#except that i have exquisite taste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which jungkook can’t sleep, and he can’t stop kissing you either.

> fluff, suggestive / word count: 2.6k

> content/warnings: alexa play seven by jungkook! mentions of s^x, lots and lots of cutie kisses :( they’re in that afterglow <3 oc’s chest is his pillow :(

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hi. here’s ur slice of pure self indulgent fluff 🍰 i just had to write abt this jk :P there’s a reference to in which you always get what you want and jungkook is dying to kiss you 🥹 reblogs & feedback are vv appreciated. i’d love to hear ur thoughts so feel free to scream or laugh or cry <3

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a fleeting white light passes through your closed eyelids, nearly blinding, as you hear the familiar shutter of your boyfriend’s polaroid camera.

“jungkook,” you whimper weakly due to the sudden disturbance, burying your face on the soft pillows while pushing the camera away.

“shit, shit- sorry, baby-” he winces, guilty of disrupting your journey to slumber, as he scrambles to fix his mistake. “forgot to turn off the flash.”

he places the polaroid face down on the space behind him to give it the time to develop the photo he had taken. much to your relief, the bedroom falls silent once more except for the quiet humming and breathing of the airconditioner. you return to properly laying your head on the pillow, taking a small gasp of oxygen, and jungkook smiles because of how adorable you are for still refusing to open your eyes.

“can i take more pictures?”

“did you turn it off?” you whisper as you stretch your legs to find a more comfortable position, unwittingly pulling down the comforter and exposing your nakedness to the cool air. this gives rise to goosebumps on your skin, causing you to shiver, but your boyfriend is quick to your rescue. he catches the hem before it could slide past your skimpy shorts.

“i did.”

a chaste kiss is planted on your shoulder before it is returned underneath the warmth of soft layers of cotton and fabric.

you sigh, melting back into relaxation. “okay.”

he re-anchors his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his palm to admire the majestic view of you. jungkook likes this a lot, he lives for it— lying on the bed face-to-face with his sated lover, spending the rest of the night feeling like his heart is not a big enough vessel to hold all the love he has for you. the lights he is yet to turn off have splashed the dark room with a red glow that engulfs your figure as well, escalating his heartbeat, so hypnotic and tantalizing, he finds himself breathing heavier and heavier behind the viewfinder, or maybe he has stopped breathing at all. the shutter briefly fills the silence.

this is… the arch of your back is burned in his mind and he swears he still tastes you on his tongue, but seeing you like this feels so different.

he was consumed by his pleasure and yours just half an hour ago, admittedly almost blinded by his own sweat dripping from his forehead because he simply couldn’t stop wanting more of you, giving himself to you. you weren’t exactly innocent either, with your provocative touches and coquettish smiles, whispering lewd words that was gasoline to the lust flaring up inside of him. he revels in seeing that you’re just as desperate for it as he is, if not more, purely from the way you beseech him with your eyes mirroring stained glass windows. he knows you love it when he fucks you so good it brings you to tears, welcoming the delightful intensity of his nature, and that you were also trying to tire him out so he’d finally feel sleepy, but holy shit, looking at you right now, he wants nothing more but to hold you with utmost gentleness.

wildly concentrated with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, he brushes away the hair that fell on your face before capturing another exquisite memory to be burned into film.

jungkook is greedy when it comes to you.

a disgruntled whine slips from your mouth when the pillow underneath your head is replaced by his thick arm, which is then rudely cut off by his lips crashing on yours.

clearly, you’ve grown too comfortable in this relationship.

“i love you.” he drunkenly mutters, instantly going for another kiss and barely finishing his another- “i love you.” before he’s kissing you again.

“babe-” you chuckle then gasp, holding on to his wrist as his tattooed hand loosely wraps around your neck.

“i love you. i love you, i love y- i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.” he repeats himself over and over, the volume of his voice gradually getting quieter as he runs out of breath, until his tongue becomes tied. grounded by the feeling of your steady pulse beneath his thumb, he silences himself by tenderly kissing you, soft lips molding with yours for a wordless declaration of devotion this time around.

pure static— there are no thoughts running in your head. your limbs feel numb but tingly. you feel like you’re floating- no, you’re falling. the bed has turned into an abyss and you’re falling endlessly and jungkook holding you close is the only thing that makes sense. you might have to consider this true heaven, nothingness with your everything, when the whole world is lights-out and quiet that it feels like time has been suspended, and the only way to keep track of it is through each pump of your heart.

at last, your eyelids slowly flutter open as he pulls away, and he greets you with that boyish grin. “pretty.”

his hand on your neck moves to stroke your face lovingly, eyes glimmering with various emotions as they wander your features.

“____ is so, so pretty.”

“hm, really?” you hum sleepily, leaning closer to his touch. “thanks to you.”

“me?” his doe eyes widen in confusion.

“you know, for the afterglow. i feel nice.” you giggle brightly at your own half-joke, positively out of your goddamn mind as you hide your warm face on his shoulder.

“ahhh- ah!”

enlightenment then dawns on your boyfriend.

his giggles blend in with yours for a harmony that strikes the same joy as the sound of wind chimes on a windy day.

jungkook tries not to appear too cocky about the compliment, but consequences be damned, he would die satisfying his lover.

“oh yeah, baby? do you now?” there’s a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face when you take a peek at him, which then morphs into a grin when your eyes meet. “i feel nice, too.”

“nice?” your voice comes out delicate, droopy eyes asking him for confirmation.

“nice.”

he feels a tug at his heartstrings.

“you know what? fucking great… i could never have enough of you.”

it becomes silent for a while. his tattooed hand slides under the comforter, letting his fingers skim across the side of your waist, feather-light touches on your bare skin before he’s pulling you closer to his body.

“i… i don’t doubt that feelings like this can only grow as time goes on but… it’s still amazing that when i think about it, even until now, all the time, i want to be with you.”

he involuntarily breathes out a shaky sigh, ears going red as they do when he’s expressing sincerity from the deepest parts of his soul.

“really, how do you do this…? what is this magic? why- why do i like you so much? i mean, i know why! of course! but, wow!” he squeezes his eyes shut to express his disbelief, clicking his head to the side. “it’s possible for it to be this much? do you get what i’m saying? i just have thoughts like that— love is so fascinating.”

you barely process his words with your brain still in a haze of bliss, but it’s funny, hearing these questions from the same man who has the entire world madly obsessed with him.

oh, this actually sounds familiar. he’s getting all sentimental and philosophical. again. and he’s not drunk. were you that good tonight?

“i won’t give away my secrets just like that. what if you use them on someone else?” you tease him, rubbing your tired eyes and shaking your head as you giggle.

you receive a dirty look from him, clearly offended and uninterested in the thought of putting in the hard effort to impress someone that isn’t you.

“aish, stop talking! i don’t like hearing you talk in that way.”

“then what else am i supposed to do? you’re the one who woke me up.” you retort in annoyance.

but you honestly don’t think there’s any secret to tell. jungkook is in love with you. plain and simple.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. go back to sleep if you want to.”

he dips down to plant gentle pecks on your shoulder, going down on a trail to your neck, and you unconsciously tilt your head to his convenience because he’s bringing the butterflies in your stomach back to life. it feels good, everything he does always feels good.

“you’re seriously not done?” you mumble against his lips, unfaltering with the kisses as if he would run out of them any minute now.

he stubbornly answers with a “no!” as his lips ghost over your cheek.

if only bam was here, jungkook would eventually leave you alone to rest. he would pester him with his late-night burst of affection instead while talking shit about you to your child because you dodged his kiss in your sleep.

“babe, you’re supposed to sleep. you have work later.”

“no, i don’t want to sleep. i… i want to kiss you- baby.” he protests as he continues to pepper your face with kisses, giving your body a particularly tight squeeze when he searches for your lips again.

you blink at him in confusion when he suddenly sends you a look of irritation, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring.

“you haven’t even said ‘i love you’ back yet.”

“oh, i haven’t?” you wince innocently. “sorry. i love you.”

but he should be the one apologizing to you, since it’s his fault that you still can’t think straight, or walk for that matter.

you pat around the mattress behind his back until you stumble upon the camera, and it’s jungkook’s turn to be your beloved muse. you scoot away until the lens manage to capture him down to his shirtless abdomen. you watch him in complete awe behind the viewfinder. he squints at you, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously, and he smirks when you chuckle in amusement.

“ah wait- take this! take this! you have to take a good one, got it? i worked so hard on them yesterday!” he eagerly voices out a special demand.

he shuffles to flex his arm infront of the camera, showing off his well-defined triceps and biceps while releasing rich, throaty grunts. totally unnecessary, but so achingly jungkook.

your boyfriend is outrageously, ridiculously sexy— he’s still wearing that stupid black headband he hastily put on in the middle of sex because he got pissed off at his hair and he needed it out of the way so he could ‘properly see his love’s beautiful body.’

you roll your eyes inside your head.

what a fucking tease.

nonetheless, you acquiesce.

the flash goes off.

and another polaroid is crafted into existence that you selfishly want to keep for your eyes only.

“baby, let me see.”

“it’s mine!” you scrunch your nose with a childlike charm, hiding the polaroid behind your back.

he chuckles, hopelessly endeared by you.

“yes, i’m yours.” he coos in response.

and your unguarded heart is once again swept away by the taste of his tongue. the camera becomes an abandoned item. your fingers daintily pushes off his headband in favor of freely tangling them with his silky hair, and it also ends up getting lost somewhere in the sheets as his sweet kisses lull you in a false sense of security… because out of nowhere, that same blazing light burns through your closed eyes for the second time tonight.

jungkook playfully waves the polaroid infront of your face, and his toothy grin is met by your unimpressed expression.

“this is mine!”

he has been waiting to jump into this type of opportunity, to orchestrate a romantic moment to be stolen in film— you can tell by the sparkles in his eyes. reminiscent of that one late night in a tiny photobooth where your younger and clueless selves were cramped in, this is what you and his hyungs often talk about, how much you share the same fondness for the fact that jungkook hasn’t changed at all.

“just how many pictures of you kissing me do you need?” you ask him lightheartedly.

he juts out his bottom lip sullenly, and a few beats pass before he forms an answer. “i always need more for when i miss you.”

you copy his frown. “then what about me when i’m missing you too?”

“hmmm… i want you to always remember me like this, baby.” he melodramatically declares as he picks up the one and only polaroid you’ve taken of him tonight. “can you see my abs too…? oh- it’s not showing yet.”

he looks back at you shyly with a laugh, and he places it back down to let it continue developing.

“i’ll look later. i can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. ‘m so tired.” you sadly sniffle to gain his pity, fluttering your damp eyelashes at him. “let’s go to sleep, please?”

jungkook doesn’t find it in himself to articulate a consolation or protest, not when you’re tugging him down to coax him into laying his head on your chest.

“heaven.” he moans, overcome by contentment.

he adjusts himself a bit to be more comfortable before dragging the comforter further upwards to provide warmth for the two of you, all the while refusing to remove his face nuzzled up against you.

“why are you always like this? can you even breathe?” you chuckle with your eyes closed.

“i love your boobs.” his honest reply comes out muffled, cute for some reason, along with his satisfied hums prompted by your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“i know.”

he turns his head to the side to look up at you, and he carries on to speak with his cheek squished against you. “i really, really mean it.”

“yes, baby. i believe you.”

a minute of silence passes. the ecstasy still flooding your veins becomes a stepping stone in the pond towards your dreamland, where all is either fantastically perfect or horrifically fucked up.

but then you feel sloppy kisses being deliberately scattered in the middle of your chest, leading down to your stomach, and you get rudely knocked over into the cold, clear waters.

yes, plea- oh no, no, no, no.

“jungkook, baby, stop. i can’t go another round.” you whine pathetically, being driven closer to the urge to burst into tears.

“AH! o-ow- ouch- baby, wha- i swear, i wasn’t even planning on it!” he loudly exclaims in surprise when you harshly pull him away by his hair.

“still…” your voice cracks. “you know i’ll get turned on!”

his chuckles are infuriatingly raspy and of no help at all, ego inflating upon hearing your response and the frustration obviously laced with it.

“okay, okay! i’m sorry! i’ll behave now!”

thank god.

he assumes his previous position, the place that he deems to be the warmest and the coziest. as he wraps his arms around your waist, your fist relaxes into an open palm that cradles the back of his head.

“____?” he mumbles, finally feeling the tiredness seep into his sore muscles now that he’s lying motionless.

“hmm?”

“let’s eat dinner outside after work.”

“…meat?”

“and beer!” he adds, brimming with excitement, and he salivates as he can almost taste them in his mouth already. they are his favorite, after all.

“i’ll come pick you up then.” you drop a kiss on his forehead, and he sighs happily. “but go to sleep or else i’ll kick you out of the bedroom again.”

his sweet embrace becomes an iron grip.

cold and alone, he swears those were some of the worst three hours of his life.

he squeaks in defeat. “goodnight, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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educatedsimps · 8 months ago

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— how hq men react to "i like you"

they like you back but this is just how i imagine them reacting right after you admit you like them

≪ back to fics masterlist

the NORMAL ones who’d just blush and admit that they like you too (with varying thought processes tho)

↳ suga and yaku on a good day, yamaguchi after a minor panic attack (tbh he doesn't know if it’s a panic attack or if his heart is beating so fast because of you), ennoshita, kenma, aone, kita, ginjima, komori

the ones who would panic immediately. like their brains would short-circuit trying to process what you had just said. like what do you mean, you like them? YOU like THEM??? the first thing out of his mouth is “N-NOW?!” like no shit, sherlock 😐

↳ asahi, tanaka, noya, hinata, lev, kogane, bokuto, tendō but he’s calm first then he’ll be like ‘eh? … EH??’, goshiki

the ones who CANNOT comprehend 1. what you’d just said, and 2. why anyone would like them romantically (the poor boy’s a lil insecure sometimes, okay?) so the first thing he says is “why??” with the most incredulous look on his face (except ushijima)

↳ kageyama (he’s dumbstruck tbh), unhinged kenma, kunimi, ushijima, sakusa

the ones who would ask “are you sick?” WITH ZERO HESITATION like, he’s in denial okay ✋ of course you’d get his protective and caring side out, and he doesn’t even understand what you said. i mean he does…? but again, he doesn’t believe it. yet. and yeah, he’s genuinely worried that you’d said that because you were high or something LOL

↳ daichi, tsukishima but he’s like judging you kinda, akaashi The Overthinker ™️, iwaizumi 100%, matsukawa but he'd probably say it in a joking way while he tries to process the thought of you actually liking him, kindaichi, semi, yamagata, kita

the ones who would freeze and believe it for a second before convincing himself that you’re joking. also follows up with "who paid you to say that?" with all the skepticism in the world. it's not that he doesn’t trust you, he’s just in denial 🤧

↳ suga and yaku on an unhinged day, shirabu, suna (he thinks atsumu’s pulling a cruel prank on him), osamu (also thinks it’s atsumu), aran, hanamaki and iwaizumi (they both think it’s oikawa)

the mfs who go "well, i can't fault you for having exquisite taste" or some egotistical shit like that, ALSO with zero hesitation. like sir puh-lease ✋ knock ur ego down a notch, you’re not all’at (he is, tho)

↳ kuroo, oikawa, futakuchi, MIYA FUCKING ATSUMU

a/n: idk why but in my mind i just group suga and yaku together because they just give me rlly similar vibes (except suga is a lil more cray cray) and yes the two of them def have hinged and unhinged days but anyway i churned this out at 1am so excuse the half assedness of this one, i hope it was somewhat entertaining! i tried to be funny okay 🤧

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jhdyuiee · 2 months ago

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treasure trove

𓇼 pairing: husband!johnny x fem!reader

𓇼 tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, unprotected sex, tit job, fingering, multiple positions/orgasms, oral (m receiving), tit/breast play, sucking/marking/biting, kissing/making out, dirty talk, breeding kink, cursing, name calling (good girl) & pet names (wife, babe), sex by the beach :0, rough johnny

𓇼 w.c: 2k

𓇼 a.n: hehe, i told ya'll i'd be back very soon and with my first ever johnny fic no less, hehe. anyhow this is the last release of the week, please stay tuned next weekend for my next releases! thank you for your continuous love and support, i truly appreciate it & i love ya'll just so much! until next week, jiji out 🤍

Maldives.

Nothing beats the ocean side view. The water so clear, so exquisite. You looked out the window of the restaurant you and your husband were dining in for the night. Today marked a day until your honeymoon was over. You were a bit sad, not wanting this to end, not wanting to leave just yet.

You watched as the sun slowly set, illuminating the beautiful ocean. You were always fond of the ocean, it was the center of all your good moments in life. You teared your gaze from the beautiful ocean to the man in front of you.

Your husband: Johnny Suh.

“I’m starting to think you’re on this honeymoon with the ocean rather than with me,” Johnny says as he swirls the wine in his cup.

You couldn’t help but smile at his commentary. “Jealous of the ocean, Suh?” you teased.

“You’re a Suh too now you know,” he answered, taking the cup of wine to his lips. His face scrunches up when he gets a taste. He sets the glass down, using that hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Did I ever tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” your husband speaks, a slight blush adorning your cheeks.

“Yes, yes you have… in fact it's all you’ve said to be tonight,” you told your husband who just looked at you like a love struck fool. He was your fool, head over heels for you. In Johnny’s world he always thanked the lord above for letting him meet someone like you.

“Well, what can I say, my wife is simply just the most radiant woman in the whole world!” he says a bit louder, loud enough for other guests to hear.

You slightly shout his name as you see the few guests turn around to your table. Johnny just laughs, bringing your entwined hands to his lips where he kissed it so lovingly.

“I love you,” he mutters, instantly melting your heart.

“I love you too,” you tell him as you then bring his hand to your lips so you could do the same thing.

And so your dinner with Johnny continued, laughter and smiles radiating from your table. Everyone in that restaurant could feel the love surrounding you two– the newly wedded couple. Once it was time to go, Johnny made sure to take your hand–holding it real tight–and walk you to his car. You noticed there was no one else there except you two, Johnny noticed this too. And Johnny for one was someone who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to do something… revolting.

His hands quickly find their way to your waist, holding you as he slams his mouth onto yours. You could taste remnants of his wine from him, intoxicating yourself. You didn’t mean the wine, but Johnny himself, the man was like an addicting drug, something you couldn’t help but intoxicate yourself with.

You find yourself trapped, being eaten alive almost. His tongue fights against yours, dominance overriding Johnny. His hands lingered on your ass, groping it which caused you to moan into his mouth. He lightly smacks one of your cheeks before soothing it. You could feel your panties begin to wetten, yourself begin to heat up.

He parts from the heated kiss first, instead going to kiss your cheek, jaw, before settling on your neck. He uses one hand to brush away any hairs, leaving your neck in full exposure to him. He nips on your skin before sucking on it. You grab onto his brown locks, holding him as he tries marking you. You were sure you were going to be left in a body full of marks by the time ya’ll leave tomorrow. Well, not that you were complaining.

Once Johnny felt satisfied he parts from your neck, meeting you at eye level. And just as he was about to devour you again, you two hear a woman’s laughter in the distance. You two freeze, instantly sobering up. However you didn’t fail to notice the remnants of lust in Johnny's eyes.

“Just wait until we get into the villa,” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand to guide you to the passenger seat. As you take your seat and he begins to drive off, your mind wanders to all the indecencies that are about to unravel.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You two couldn’t make it past the front door before he had you two undressing. You were left in nothing, naked as he sucked on your tits. “How are you so perfect,” he groans against your breast, kissing his way to the other one where he proceeds to suck on your nipple before marking you up. You gripped onto his hair, watching as he loved on your body.

When he’s had enough he brings his lips to yours, pecking them before saying, “why don’t you take care of me now, I’ve been hard ever since the restaurant.” Johnny guides your hand to his hardened member that was still confined by his boxers. You shyly smiled before dropping onto your knees where you then proceed to take them off. His cock springs out, leaking with pre already and the tip looking red.

You licked your lips before inching towards his cock. You dart your tongue out before swirling it around his tip, licking up his pre. You groaned at the sour taste, only focusing on his tip. Johnny looks down at you with an urge to just shove himself down your throat, but he wanted you to do it yourself. He watched as your cute tongue licked his tip before licking his slit. He curses and closes his eyes at the pleasuring sensation.

You looked up, finding your husband in pure ecstasy from just some licking. You felt it was right to now kick things up a notch, so you spit on his cock. You used one of your hands to spread the spit around him, making sure to wet him well. When you felt it was wet enough you begin.

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels his cock slide in between something soft, something he knew all too well: your tits.

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as he watches you try to fuck his cock in between your tits. Eventually opting to help you out by thrusting himself in between them, watching as you take his tip inside your mouth.

He knew he wasn't going to last, feeling himself nearing his release. You too could feel it in the way he twitched in between you. So being the caring wife that you are, you helped him out a bit by squeezing your tits a bit tighter and taking him in your mouth more deeper.

Johnny gripped your head, holding it as he came. His warm seeds erupting inside your mouth before you swallowed them. You lick him clean one last time before getting back up. Johnny immediately kisses you, tasting himself on you. You feel as his fingers go to your dripping cunt, he moans at the amount of juice overflowing you right now. He continues, sliding them in between your pussy lips. He barely gets to your entrance before you part from the kiss to say: “Pl-Please Johnny, in-inside… inside me pl-please.”

He groans, “anything for you my wife,” he says, unable to resist your pleas.

He flips your two around, your back against the wall. He takes one of your legs into his hand, holding it as he uses his other hand to bring his cock to your dripping entrance. You watched intently, watched as you swallowed him right up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding him as you feel his girth spread your gummy walls apart. He was snug inside you, fitting into you just right.

“So fucking tight, feels so good,” Johnny moans against your ear before kissing it. You mutter a sultry, yes, back to him.

Johnny starts thrusting, in and out, you watched with watery eyes. The pleasure so massive as you feel his cock reach up to your cervix, kissing your womb so nicely. You chant out his name when he continues pumping his length into you ruthlessly. You could feel yourself being fucked into oblivion already. You tightened yourself even more around him. “Fuck, already gonna cum babe?” Johnny asks.

“Mmmm,” you say, unable to cohort a simple sentence. Your fingers scratched Johnny’s back as he continued pounding you against the wall.

Johnny watches you in pleasure, watching the way your tits bounced in front of him. It was a sight he couldn't pass up on. Johnny wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on the poor thing as you grew closer to your release.

Too lost in the overstimulation from his cock and mouth, you failed to notice his fingers which grazed your clit. It wasn’t until you felt them rub your clit that you felt your eyes widened. Involuntary moans erupted from you as he continued playing with your clit.

“I’m… I’m cumming,” you moaned, as you gushed around his cock. Johnny too moans, loving the way you felt as you came around his cock. He continues his thrusting, overstimulating you into mini orgasms until he finally cums. You still couldn’t get used to how much he would cum, how’d he’d fill you up with such warmth.

However, just when you thought it was over, it wasn’t. Unlike the other nights, tonight Johnny was in a desperation of more. He carried you further inside the villa, rushing to the bedroom. He plops you on the bed, feeling it dip as he climbs on as well. Johnny opens your legs, watching as your and his orgasm mixed together and dripped out of you.

“Say, my dear wife, what if we have a child,” Johnny blurts out.

You didn’t know what to say, was this the cause of his sex driven state or was he genuine? Well, whatever the case, you didn’t mind. You were always talking about how much you wanted a child and were always ready to have one if the time ever arose.

“Do it, get me pregnant tonight my dear husband,” you whispered, pecking his lips. you were testing him, a test Johnny wasn’t going to play by tonight. He backs up a bit, spreading your legs wider before positioning his cock in between your folds. He rubs himself in between them, gathering the remnants of his leaking cum only to push them back inside.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, “I could feel you so deep.”

Johnny smirks, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching as your eyes glistened with tears. He pistoned his thrust, hips slapping against your ass. He continues his ruthless thrust in and out of your cunt as the squelching sounds echoed in the room. He was wrecking your cunt, trying to make sure he was the only one that could ever leave you satisfied for all your life.

“Keep squeezing me babe and you’ll milk me in no time,” he groans, feeling as you squeezed him. “Good girl, just like that,” he then says as he rubs your clit once more.

“I’m go-gonna cum,” you moaned, tongue lolling out, “Cum wi-with me!”

His thrusting falters, going irregular until he finally cums inside you for a second time tonight. Yet he wasn’t done, he still had a promise to uphold. The promise to make sure you left this trip pregnant with his child, our child. And so he fucks his cum into you deeper, not stopping until he’s sure he’s made you pregnant.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

Once everything seemed all perfect to him, Johnny takes his cock out of your stuffed pussy. Remnants of his animalistic side, subduing and being replaced by a gentle and cuddly husband. Johnny engulfed you into his body, his warmth, as he whispered sweet-nothings into your ear.

Then everything fell silent, the ocean waves sounding in the distance lulling you to sleep. You peacefully slept in Johnny’s arms, resting after a long day and night. In the midst of you sleep you felt a hand graze your stomach, and a loving whisper in your ear.

“I promise to protect you both, my treasures.”

2024. 11. 10

final a.n: have a great weekend! stay safe! & creds to the person who created the dividers, i lost their tumblr page so i couldn't tag them ahhh

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blackynsupremacy · 11 days ago

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SO INTO YOU

pairing: older!smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

summary: you and clark forget about the world as you indulge in each other on your honeymoon.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, fluff, established relationship, reader and clark are newlyweds, l bombs, romance, oral (f receiving), praise kink, slight size kink, vanilla, missionary, implied unprotected lovemaking, squirting, i love welling clark but reader can imagine any clark they like!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @miguelspvssy @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @ellethespaceunicorn

a/n: i swear imma get in requests! whenever i’m on pinterest i get a blurb i gotta write before i forget.

“hah, finally.”

clark kent sighed in content. your soft giggles were music to his ears as he carefully stepped over the threshold while holding you like precious cargo into the luxury italian suite that was graciously gifted to you both by lex luthor for your nuptials. the happiness you were both feeling was beyond words as you were just officially pronounced as husband and wife before your loved ones within the metropolis chapel. after a few hours of dancing and merriment at the reception, you and clark flew off to start your happily ever after in the beautiful city of venice. he smoothly kicked the door closed with one foot, never taking his eyes off of you when he placed you down to the stand on the ground. it was around seven in the evening when you landed, making the dim lit glow of the ivory and gold decor in the suite irresistible to pull your eyes from. you definitely weren’t in smallville, kansas anymore. you take clark’s hand within yours, slightly dragging him to peruse the area. you saw lex like a fairy godmother of sorts as he had exquisite tastes and boy, did it feel like you stepped in a fairy tale.

“oh, clark. can you believe this is ours? this is just—beautiful.” you confessed in pure awe. clark silently agreed, his blue eyes darting briefly around the room, but they can’t help to gravitate towards your figure. your ivory white corset dress that beautifully contrasted the melanated shade of your skin fit your body so perfectly that clark couldn’t wait another moment to remove the garment. he deliberately sauntered towards you, his large hands take ahold of your waist to press you closer to him. given his tall six foot stature, he leans down, so that his rose lips could press a kiss to the soft skin of your earlobe.

“that’s true, but it doesn’t compare to the beauty of my wife.” he whispered in a low voice and gripped tight tighter to your waist. clark felt a rush of joy course through his veins when he mentioned your new title. he couldn’t have been luckier to be with you in this moment. with the exception of a green rock, you were his true weakness. a sigh of his name escapes from your lips when his meet the warm, brown skin of your jawline to leave a trail of kisses against the bone before they descend to your neck. each kiss causes your skin to be ridden with goosebumps. he pulls his lips away momentarily and one of his large hands ascend from your waist, trailing smoothly over your chest for his palm to lay flat against your neck. the cold medal of his wedding band on your skin increases your excitement as clark pushes your neck backwards slowly for your head to lean. his face comes closer to yours for both of your lips to finally lock within each other. as they move in sync, you hold yourself together by bringing your hands up behind you, tangling your fingers in the plush, dark jungle of his hair. without breaking your lips from his, he swiftly turns you around and picks you up within his arms again, so that he could properly locate you to the master bedroom. clark lays your body down on cream, satin duvet where he temporarily pulls his mouth away from yours to just silently take in every part of what’s before him.

ever since your adolescence, you’d always held a deep respect for each other. as time passed, that respect slowly turned to admiration, transforming into the deep, true love you found in each other to this day. clark couldn’t count on his fingers the time that you’ve been there for him at his lowest. you never turned away from him when he revealed his powers or the time that he ran away from home. it had always been—you. the mere thought of you makes him almost grateful that he crashed down to earth on that fateful day in the fall of eighty-nine. you’d notice that clark had been silent for far too long, you’ve always been used to his lingering, blue eyes, but now you were starting to feel awkward as the desire for your new husband grew hungrier with each passing second,

“clark, baby, are you okay?” you softly inquire, your hands cupping the sides of his jaw as your fingers glide along his sculpted, blushing face. you beam with a small smile, you knew now that the feeling was indeed mutual.

“i don’t know if you know this, but i love what you do to me.” he pauses to press your lips in a searing kiss to pull away and resume speaking, “i love you—all of you.” you whine, pulling him down to take his lips to yours again, this time you let your tongue intrude into his mouth in which he graciously accepts by sensually intertwining the two together. you moan, bucking your hips into his direction, letting him know that your patience was running thin. you take your lips away from his, pushing any disheveled hair from his forehead to clearly peer into his eyes.

“i need you, clark—make love to me, please.” clark observed as you squirm, propping your legs up on each side of his hips, your thighs spread wider to signify of you both taking your relationship to a whole new level. clark’s breath hitched at your words, the urgency in your voice igniting a fire within him. he responded by leaning down and capturing your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine. as he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour. he doesn’t forget sneak his hands down to your ass to reward it with a tight squeeze. the more he touched, the more you felt the white lacy underwear you had on seep in your arousal. you melted into him, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingertips as you traced the outline of his shoulders beneath the fabric of the pristine button up, where your fingers succeed in their search to find and unravel each button.

“are you ready?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a mix of tenderness, hunger, and longing. “because once i start, i don’t think i’ll want to stop.” his blue eyes searched yours, wanting to ensure that this was what you truly wanted, but god, he’s practically waited years for this moment to come. your body was practically screaming “hell yes!”, but being the gentleman that jonathan and martha raised, your consent mattered, whether you’re his wife or not.

you nodded, your heart racing with anticipation, knowing that he can hear it clearly. “yes, clark, that’s the point—i don’t want you to stop. give it to me, baby.” you hastily replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“whatever you want—mrs. kent.” you bite your lip as your new name rolls off of his tongue so smoothly. he sits up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal the beautifully sculpted body that you swear gets more muscular. those long days of farm work over the years had seriously worked in his favor. clark sits you up, so that he could finally unzip your dress. you allow him to swiftly pull it away from your body before you take turns to discard the rest of your clothing until you’re completely bare before each other. clark is instantly mesmerized by your true form and he lays you back down again on the bed, his eyes never ceasing to inspect of what he thought was the most beautiful body in the entire galaxy.

“you are—breathtaking.” he proclaimed, the heat of embarrassment rises on your face. clark’s large body loomed over yours and he shifted his weight, at last positioning himself between your legs. you could feel the heat of your dripping arousal intensify at the sight of him, and it made your heart race even faster. he marveled at you as one of his hands palmed against one of your breasts. you moan out his name, encouraging him to go further with his touch. he took his time, savoring every moment as he ghosted his mouth around the other, trailing soft kisses along your dark erected nipple before enclosing it in his warm mouth. the kryptonian hummed against the skin to create a sensual vibration, igniting every nerve in your body. he didn’t forget to alternate between the two to give them equal attention.

“mmm—clark, baby, that’s so good, but i need more.” you request, bucking up your hips. clark chuckled at your impatience, he knew exactly what you needed. he wanted this to be a perfect experience for you, but he still wanted to tease you just a little.

“where do you need me, sweetheart?” he questioned before trailing kisses along your stomach. clark’s dick grew larger when he heard you whining. “c’mon, beautiful. use your words.” he went just a little lower to your navel, swirling his tongue around the perimeter of your belly button. despite the electricity he was sending through your body, you managed to articulate your need,

“clark…” you breathed, the sound laced with desire. “need your mouth—ngh, on my pussy.”

he looked up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “you deserve nothing less.” he said, his voice low and husky. as his head moved lower, he spread your thighs wider, spreading kisses within that area. he even lapped up a bit of overflowing arousal that stuck to your skin. clark was about to go crazy knowing that you were this wet for him and him only. he had finally reached to where you needed him, your scent of your desire drives him to cop a taste by dragging tongue in a deliver lick along your entrance to which you whimper in approval. clark immediately gets to work by swirling his tongue on your sensitive pleasure point like its a delectable piece of candy. you arch your back off the bed and your hands promptly find their way to grip onto his hair for leverage as his tongue starts to prod at your wet hole. the pad of his thumb takes care of your clit while his tongue explores deep into your pussy.

“oh, s-shit, clark. just like that, baby.” you want to clench your legs around his head to bring him closer, but he uses the strength of his elbows to keep your thighs separated, so that you could get all of what he was working with without you running away. you practically clench around his tongue, encouraging him to taste every single inch of you until you completely unravel beneath him. he brings his tongue back around your clit, giving the sloppiest of licks as if he were indulging in a melting ice cream cone, attempting to catch every drop. he drives you mad as you were still firmly planted on the bed, thighs wide open when you observe his head shaking side to side to bury himself deeper. with the little strength you have, you attempt to grind your hips. your thighs are trembling when you feel that ball of fire inside of you ready to erupt at any minute. the final straw when he takes your clit between his lips to firmly suckle on it.

“clark, m’gonna cum!”

at hearing your words, one of his hands grasps to yours, tightly intertwining your fingers.

“let go. cum for me, pretty girl. i got you.”

the movements of his tongue become more relentless as the other hand rapidly rubs on your nub to finally get you to the first of many highs for the evening. you cry out his name, arching your back and rocking your hips as you gush your liquids onto clark’s heavenly face.

“atta girl. you did so good.” he hums in appreciation by lapping up every single drop, never getting tired of the taste. he slides up to plant your lips on yours, slipping his tongue in so smoothly, so that you could enjoy the taste of yourself as he did previously. he takes your legs to wrap themselves around his waist before using his arms to prop himself up above you. as he finally aligned himself at your entrance, you gaze down and gasped at his impressive girth. he was well endowed as this wasn’t just some regular earth dick. clark paused, his gaze locked onto yours, ensuring that you were ready for this next step.

“i hope you’re ready, sweetheart. i’ll be gentle, but just let me know if it’s too much, okay? i love you.”

you nod, placing one last searing kiss to his lips.

“i trust you, clark. i love you so much more.” you say with sincerity, now gazing down again as he began to finally put your bodies together like two long lost puzzle pieces awaiting to complete the final picture.

you both shudder and sigh out in ecstasy once the tip was inside. you were made for each other. as he filled you up inch by inch, the world around you simply disappeared only leaving the rhythm of your breaths and the sound of your bodies moving in sync. every movement was a dance and every lewd vocalization was a song of celebration of your everlasting love. as husband and wife, you lost yourselves in the moment, surrendering to the bliss that enveloped you both for the rest of the night.

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peachyforthis · 6 months ago

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Genshin men when YOU try to make their signature dish (pt 1)

+ when they make yours

Featuring: Kaveh, Neuvillette, Alhaitham

Kaveh

Would accidentally snort in laughter when seeing you struggle to put those biscuit crusts in place.

But would refrain from laughing more in seeing your dedication to make this dish for him, a sincere smile on his lips and heart swelling with love.

Might actually start telling you the mathematically calculated way to position the crusts while you get tired eventually and remind him that these biscuits have to be broken down to eat anyways, for which he would dramatically gasp and pout while saying, “It’s all about the art and presentation!”

Would definitely add a touch of his architect designs on your favourite food that you’ll be in awe of his skills, while simultaneously thinking if you really wanna break and eat this masterpiece.

“You are truely a genius. Now i feel guilty for eating your art.”

“Nonsense!, I can make these new structures a thousand times for you. Only if you’d want that.”

How could you say no to seeing what new designs he comes up with every time.

Would feed the food to you himself, since you felt bad breaking his structure.

He wouldn’t mind. Honestly, he would be secretly so proud since you loved his passion so much too.

Neuvillette

Would have to request his Melusine assistant for his favourite, chilliest water stash to make this.

Honestly, when you sample some to check, it’s not that different from the normal consomme you make except it’s more… refreshing with his imported water (why are you even surprised anyways).

But you’d make it anyday for your beloved Dragon as you see him devour it (in his proper manners of course), while telling you how delicious it was after you finally settle down on his lap, with him lovingly kissing your cheek.

“Exquisite flavours, my beloved.”

You lean up and kiss him.

“I did use your water stash though. Never knew it would be this hard to convince Sedene that i won’t waste it. She definitely guards it like mora,” to which he chuckles.

On a rare free day, you would catch him suffering trying to learn to make your favourite food, even if the said food is fried or dried like those Mondstat hash browns or Charcoal baked Ajilenakh cakes.

“I often have wished to make some of these hash browns for you, ahem… although these oil fumes do make me feel like I’m losing my Hydro constitution.”

And honestly, to you this is more than enough proof of his eternal love.

Alhaitham

You wanna make his signature food as a surprise for him since he’s a bit stressed these days. So you make up your mind to cook it on your free day while Alhaitham is away at the Academiya.

At first, spends too much time thinking if you really wanna write the word “contemplation” on the finished dish.

Eventually, you’d add it since you wanna make this just like Alhaitham likes, even if you don’t understand the aesthetic. But if that’s how Alhaitham likes? You’ll do it willingly. Like how love is a feeling which sometimes cannot be understood fully, yet you both have it for each other.

Fishes out his special patterned frying pan and measures the spices he likes to add to the dish.

When Alhaitham comes home in the evening he immediately recognizes the smell and goes to the kitchen first to see you fully focused on making his dish, marking out the symbols albeit a bit clumsily, not noticing Alhaitham watching you with a warm, tender gaze.

Later, tries to be nonchalant when you serve him lovingly, but you know better when he kisses your head and blushes a bit after while you have that grin on your face. Smiles seeing your clumsy handwriting of “contemplation” word on his dish.

He is a methodical person. Would search up your favourite dish and measure out the exact ingredients, time and procedure. Wouldn’t mind redoing it since he wants your favourite to taste precisely how you like.

“You know I wouldn’t mind if it doesn’t taste the exact same. Whatever you make, I’ll eat it heartily,” you giggle.

“Only the best for you. Plus, don’t worry about the wastage of the previous failed attempts. I have enough mora and I know Kaveh wouldn’t mind gobbling anything since he’s always starved.”

reblogs would be very appreciated ^^

#genshin food #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #fluff #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #sumeru boys #genshin signature dish #genshin impact

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

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Vampire Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Implications of Degrading, Aftercare, Feeding, Jealous Simon, Possessive Simon, Fluff, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Self-Conscious Simon, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost is one of the oldest vampires to inhabit the planet, and as a result, has tremendous self-control when it comes to feeding.

He’ll only feed from you if you let him, and he won’t feed from anyone or anything else.

The thought of tasting another person’s blood repulses him. Makes him feel dirty.

After all, you’re the only one for him, so why would he enact such an intimate encounter with someone else ?

He’ll get extremely jealous if you let someone else feed from you, btw.

Even if it’s a dire situation and it’s someone he knows well – Soap, for instance – he’ll struggle to not let his mind wander, to contemplate whether you enjoy having Johnny attached to your throat like a leech.

Sulky vampire boyfriend hours !!!

You’ll have to reassure him that he’s still your favourite (and only !) “Big teddy boy~”.

He secretly (shamefully) loves feeding from you.

And I don’t mean in just a romantic sense; I’m talking full-on primal instinct.

Whenever he has you pinned under him and is taking you, he can smell how close you are to your end by the scent of your blood.

And he waits, calling you every whorish synonym under the sun, smoothing over your tears with promises of love that you already know until your body gives out and you wail, back arching into Simon’s chest as his fangs sharpen and plunge into the juncture of your neck.

Your blood is a fine delicacy, but in this moment, during the pinnacle of mortal euphoria, it is exquisite.

He doesn't drain you; just takes what he knows your body can take.

And despite how rough he can be with you, when there’s blood – your blood –involved, he’s nothing but gentle.

His favourite part of the evening is when he pulls you into his arms and a trickle of blood runs down your chest and he gets to run his tongue along it; a red mercy.

Simon’s big on aftercare btw.

He’s not letting you get out of bed for at least a full day afterwards; not until you’re fully healed.

The longer a vampire goes without feeding, the more of their true form appears.

It takes energy to keep his human skin intact, so if Ghost hasn’t been drinking, his features become gradually more monstrous as the days go by.

He’ll wear his mask when this starts to happen.

He loves you, trusts you with every ounce of his existence. But he doesn’t want you seeing him. The real him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that you love him “Regardless of what’s underneath your pretty boy face !” – he’s not letting you see it.

Often, your reassurances turn into quick ‘self-love’ sessions in the nearest, most convenient spot, ending with Simon gasping and whining beneath your touch.

He knows his vampire form isn’t easy to look at. A man’s heart once gave out the second he caught sight of Simon without his human face on.

And he doesn’t want that for you.

He just loves you too much.

Speaking of; he’s always hinting towards turning you into a vampire.

Like, constantly.

He brings it up at some of the most inopportune moments – like when you’re cooking dinner or trying to

Once, to shut him up, you told him (jokingly) that he’d have to “Marry me before I let you turn me !”

And that put a dangerous little idea in Simon’s head.

Now, he’s always trying to find the perfect opportunity to propose to you – to turn you.

He’s not stupid, he knows that tone in your voice meant you weren’t being entirely serious.

But it gave him hope. A rare commodity in the world of an undead.

He has about ten engagement rings hidden in your shared home, each having been tweaked and perfected to be as timeless as possible.

You’re the most wonderful human there is, in Simon’s eyes, so you deserve the best.

So be on the lookout for that faraway look in his eye as he peers into a future he doesn’t think can come soon enough; one where your love will outlive all those that have come before and after.

A life where, for the first and last time, Simon has a constant in his life.

You.

Domestic Vampire Boyfriend !!!

He’ll cook for you whenever you ask him to, no questions asked.

Though, he won’t be handling any garlic.

Or be going near you when you’ve eaten it.

Soap constantly tries to bring up embarrassing stuff Simon’s done.

Which is why he’s always at your side whenever the 141 come over.

He can’t risk johnny jeopardising the slick, suave, sophisticated image of a loving boyfriend (and stone-cold killer) he’s cultivated for himself. Well, for you, mainly.

“Ey, did’ya know that once when Si and I were just wee vampires, that he almost set a whole town on fire because he forgot he burns up in the sun–”

“That’ll do, Johnny.”

“Aww, it’s okay, Sim-Sim,” you say. “You’re still my favourite little leechie in the whole world !”

He is going to get bullied by his associates after that, but if it’s to hear your sweet praises, he’ll gladly tolerate it.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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thepencilnerd · 3 months ago

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Scary Love

summary: Chishiya is a doctor whose world is turned upside down when a patient is rushed into the hospital after a devastating accident. As you are whisked past him into the ER, he becomes captivated by the intoxicating scent of your blood, igniting a primal hunger within him. Despite battling the insatiable urge to claim you as his own, he realizes in that moment that he must have you—at any cost. word count: 9.3k genre: Vampire!Doctor!Chishiya AU, horror, paranormal, angst warnings: toxic relationship, obsessive, manipulative, and possessive behavior, blood-drinking/sharing a/n: I am vampire trash; complete fic posted here :) - inspired by @aliceinborderlandsquidgame's post <3 full moodboards here ;)

The fluorescent lights of the hospital flickered, casting a sickly glow over the linoleum floors. Chishiya Shuntaro had grown numb to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of machinery, his steps echoing with a detached rhythm as he made his rounds. His pale fingers flicked through patient charts with the same indifference, a façade of professionalism masking a complete lack of investment in the lives he was supposed to save. He was a doctor because it passed the time, and time was his greatest enemy—a relentless, never-ending stretch that blurred the line between life and death.

It had been centuries since he had felt a spark of genuine curiosity. No patient had ever captured his attention; their faces all blended together, just like the fading lights and the indistinguishable corridors.

Until now.

Chaos broke out suddenly. “Incoming! Trauma, we need the ER prepped, now!” The doors flew open, and a stretcher burst through, surrounded by frantic doctors and nurses. The air changed, thickening with tension and something else—something that pulled Chishiya to a halt.

Then, he smelled it.

The coppery, tantalizing aroma hit him like a shockwave, making the blood in his own veins pulse with a long-forgotten hunger. It wasn’t just the scent of any blood—it was yours. Rich and intoxicating, it seeped into the sterile hospital air, spreading like a thick mist, curling its way around his senses. For the first time in years, something surged inside him—no, not something, but someone.

You.

As they whisked you past him, your pale, bloodstained form nearly limp on the stretcher, his muscles tightened against a primal urge. He pressed his wrist to his nose, but it did little to muffle the smell. The veins beneath his skin darkened and bulged, his fangs pushing against his gums. Hunger clawed at him, vicious and demanding. He almost doubled over as the shift threatened to take him right there, nearly exposing the angel of death he truly was in this place that was supposed to be a sanctuary of life.

The doctors were still shouting orders, oblivious to his struggle. They didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your body, transfixed as you disappeared behind the swinging doors of the trauma room. The chaotic rhythm of the hospital seemed to slow, all sounds fading except for the maddening yet weakening beat of your pulse. You were dying. And if you died now, he would never taste you—never experience that exquisite fire as your blood coursed through him, burning away the boredom that had settled in his bones like rot.

No. You couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow it.

Inside the trauma room, the staff’s desperation grew as your condition worsened. “Where’s the trauma specialist?” a nurse shouted, panic fraying the edge of her voice. Another doctor shook his head, hurriedly checking his phone. “Not on call,” he replied, his tone laced with frustration. “We need someone now, or we’ll lose them.”

It was the opportunity Chishiya had been waiting for.

“I’ll take over,” he said, his voice slicing through the chaos with an unsettling calm. His eyes glinted with a purpose no one else in the room could fathom. A few heads turned, doubt flickering across the other doctors' faces, but there was no time to debate. Lives were at stake, and Chishiya’s reputation as a skilled, if unorthodox, surgeon had never been questioned.

As the son of the chief and owner of the hospital, he had a certain authority that made it nearly impossible for anyone to challenge him, not that they could. His cold, calculated precision as a doctor was unquestionable; he was known for making the right call in dire situations. The other doctors exchanged hesitant glances, aware of his lineage and the weight it carried.

Chishiya had chosen surgery because it was the place where life and death hung in the balance, where the line between salvation and demise blurred into one. It was the only place where he found any semblance of stimulation, where his own indifference toward life could be masked by the sharp focus and swift precision that surgery demanded. He held no sentimental notions about saving lives; for him, each procedure was simply another test of skill, a challenge to pass the time.

The truth was, Chishiya didn’t care whether his patients lived or died. He had spent too many lifetimes watching people come and go, their lives flickering out like so many dying stars. Life, with all its fragility and unpredictability, held little meaning for him. But in the operating room, as scalpels sliced and sutures stitched, there was a fleeting thrill—a momentary exhilaration that came with deciding who would cross back over from the brink of death, and who would not. It was in that precarious dance that he found a reason to continue his own unending existence.

And now, as he stood over your bloodied body, he felt something he hadn’t felt in centuries—a stirring of genuine desire. Not to save you, but to possess you. The scent of your blood had gripped him in a way that defied his otherwise indifferent nature, as though it held a promise that could reignite the fire that had long gone cold in his veins.

With a newfound resolve, he pushed forward, gliding into the awaiting trauma room with an unnatural, quiet grace. He was greeted by a flurry of activity: doctors barking out commands, nurses adjusting IV lines, and the faint, steady beep of the heart monitor.

Your heartbeat. Weak, fluttering. But still alive.

Chishiya could see the crimson staining your skin, pooling around the gaping wounds that painted your body. His gaze fixated on the deepest gash, almost losing himself in the way your blood glistened under the harsh lights. It took everything in him to not lean over and taste it. He gritted his teeth, his fangs aching against his gums, and forced his gaze upward, meeting your half-lidded eyes for the briefest moment. Even though you were barely conscious, something flickered in your gaze, a spark of recognition—or perhaps, instinctual fear.

But he wasn’t here to save you because it was his duty as a doctor. No, it was far more selfish than that. It was the first time in his endless life that he had felt compelled to possess something—someone. He needed to keep you alive, not for your sake, but for his own. Because in that fleeting moment when your blood had perfumed the air, he had felt alive again.

The doctor in him barked orders for blood transfusions, sutures, whatever was necessary to keep you from slipping away. But the predator within already had plans far darker than anyone in that room could fathom. When you woke, if you woke, you would be his—his to heal, break, drain, turn, to keep. Your blood was his now, and he would not rest until every drop had quenched his thirst.

The darkness around you was heavy, a suffocating fog that clung to your senses as you struggled to break free. Gradually, the world returned in pieces—muted beeping, the sterile scent of antiseptic, and an ache that radiated throughout your entire body. Your eyelids fluttered open, and bright fluorescent lights blurred into focus. You were in a hospital bed, a grey blanket draped loosely over your body, and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor kept pace with your sluggish pulse.

You blinked, taking in the unfamiliar room. It was quiet, save for the soft hum of the machines. A vague memory of chaos resurfaced—voices shouting, hands pressing down to stop the bleeding, and the overwhelming sensation of slipping away. But now, you were still here, alive. How?

The sound of footsteps pulled you from your haze. A figure stepped into view, and the sight of him made your breath hitch in your throat. He was beautiful—hauntingly so. Pale skin that almost seemed to glow under the harsh lights, juxtaposed by his jet-black hair, sharp features softened only by the faintest curl of his lips, and eyes so dark they could swallow you whole. There was a strange magnetism to him, a pull that made it impossible to look away.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said, his voice low and calm, yet laced with an edge of something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze flickered over your form, as though assessing you, and a faint, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You gave us quite a scare.”

You swallowed, your throat dry and raw. “W-where am I?” you managed to croak.

“You’re in the hospital,” he replied, stepping closer to your bedside. “You had a nasty accident, but you’re stable now. I was able to take over your case.”

There was a glint in his eye, a darkness that contrasted with the reassuring tone in his voice. Something about him felt… different. You couldn’t shake the sense that his presence wasn’t just happenstance. It was almost as if he had chosen to be here, with you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, but there was an inexplicable allure that made you lean into that fear rather than shy away from it.

“You’re my doctor?” you asked, the words coming out softer than you intended.

He inclined his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes,” he said smoothly. “Dr. Shuntaro Chishiya. I’ll be overseeing your recovery from here on out.” His fingers lightly grazed your wrist as he reached for the chart at the foot of your bed, and the touch sent a faint jolt through you, waking something you couldn’t quite name.

You didn’t know how long you stared at him, only that you felt an odd flutter in your chest—a mix of fascination and trepidation. There was something intense about the way he looked at you, as if you were a puzzle he was in no rush to solve. Or a prize he had all the time in the world to claim.

He continued to speak, explaining your injuries and the procedures they’d performed, but you couldn’t focus on his words. All you could think about was how close he stood, how captivating his voice was, and how each syllable seemed to wrap around you like a velvet chain. There was an energy about him that made you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if you were being seen in ways you didn’t fully understand.

“Why did you…” you began, then hesitated, your brow furrowing. “How did you take over?”

"Wrong place, right time." His eyes flashed with a hint of amusement, but his expression remained impassive. “Let’s just say,” he murmured, his tone dropping lower, “that I have a vested interest in seeing you recover.” His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “After all, I went to such great lengths to keep you alive. It would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

The words sent a chill through you, and yet, some part of you was drawn to the danger in his voice, to the mystery that surrounded him. You could feel your pulse quickening, and from the way his gaze lingered on you, you had the unsettling suspicion that he could sense it too.

Chishiya had saved your life. And as you lay there under his watchful gaze, you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that this beautiful, almost ethereal doctor had taken a special interest in you. His words wrapped around you like a soothing balm, pushing back the panic that had threatened to take hold.

“You must rest now,” he murmured, his tone gentle yet firm. “The road to recovery won’t be easy, but I’ll be here every step of the way.” He leaned over to adjust the drip in your IV line, his movements calm and practiced. When his fingers brushed against your wrist, a spark seemed to shoot through your veins, making your pulse flutter in response. You told yourself it was only the aftermath of the accident, the lingering adrenaline playing tricks on your mind.

The corners of his lips twitched, as though he was holding back a secret, but there was nothing in his expression that gave you reason to question him. The hospital room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and you were suddenly aware of how loudly your pulse echoed in the space between you. You had the unsettling suspicion that he could hear it too, his eyes tracking the faint rise and fall of your chest, as if to confirm that life was still coursing through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice almost inaudible. “I… I don’t know what would’ve happened if—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as he leaned closer. “You don’t need to thank me.” The way he looked at you made your skin prickle with an inexplicable heat. “It’s my job, after all,” he added, but there was something unspoken behind the words—something that made your heart skip a beat.

Your scent washed over him in a maddening wave. It was faintly metallic, laced with the lingering traces of blood and the sweetness of your natural aroma. It wrapped around him like a drug, igniting a hunger he had been suppressing since the moment he first caught your scent in the trauma room. He clenched his jaw to keep his composure, forcing his body to remain still, but every cell screamed for him to close the distance, to taste you.

For a moment, you wondered why he had taken over your case. Surely there were other doctors who could have handled your injuries. But those thoughts melted away as quickly as they had come, dissolving under the intensity of his gaze. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it was just fate that had brought him to you in that critical moment.

As he straightened up and began to walk toward the door, you found yourself not wanting him to leave. “Will I… see you again?” you asked, almost embarrassed by the urgency in your voice.

Chishiya’s gaze flickered briefly to the pulse in your neck, his thoughts dark and dangerous. The rhythm was elevated, stronger than when you had been clinging to life on the operating table. Each beat seemed to resonate in the air, taunting him with the warmth that coursed through your veins. He could feel the veins under his skin begin to swell, the familiar ache of his fangs pushing against his gums. It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to lean in and press his lips to your skin, to sink his teeth in and finally experience the intoxicating concoction of your blood.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the hunger roil beneath the surface as he forced himself to focus on the here and now. He couldn’t lose control—not yet. There would be time for that later, when you were stronger, when you trusted him enough to let down your guard. But for now, he needed to play the role of the devoted doctor, the savior who had plucked you from death’s grasp.

He glanced back at you with a faint, almost cryptic smile. “Oh, you will,” he said, his tone hinting at a promise. “I’ll be keeping a very close eye on your progress.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a feeling you couldn’t quite name. You didn’t know why, but the thought of him watching over you, being there each day, brought an odd sense of comfort—even if it was laced with something darker that you couldn’t yet understand.

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under once more, unaware that Chishiya’s promise had far deeper implications than you could have ever imagined.

Days passed in a blur of routine and quiet moments, the sterile monotony of the hospital broken only by Chishiya’s daily visits. He would appear at your bedside with an easy grace, carrying trays of food or cups of tea that were far better than the bland hospital meals. It wasn’t his duty to bring you such things, but he always insisted, saying it was no trouble at all.

“You need your strength,” he’d say with a faint smile, setting the food down before pulling up a chair to sit beside you. “And the hospital’s kitchen could use some improvement.”

At first, you thought he was simply being polite—going above and beyond to reassure you in the wake of the trauma. But as days turned into a week, then two, his presence became a comforting constant. He would linger, taking time out of his rounds to talk, asking you questions about your life before the accident. You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing small stories and fragments of your past. It felt natural, effortless. Almost as if he were more of a friend than your doctor.

And then, there were the moments where you caught him looking at you—not with the detached concern of a physician, but with an intensity that sent a warm flutter through your chest. It was in the way his dark eyes would linger just a little too long, or how his voice would soften when he asked how you were feeling. He had an aura of mystery, a quiet depth that drew you in, making you curious to know more about him.

“Why did you decide to become a doctor?” you asked one afternoon, after he’d brought you a bowl of soup. “You don’t seem like the type.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting the tray down. “And what type is that?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone, though his expression remained inscrutable.

“I don’t know,” you replied, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. “It’s just… you’re different. Not like the other doctors.”

“Different?” he echoed, his lips curving into a small, enigmatic smile. “I suppose I am.”

Chishiya’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, as if weighing his response. “Well,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “I suppose it’s not entirely unlike the others. The desire to help people… to make a difference.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “But it’s not always about saving lives. Sometimes it’s about giving people a second chance.”

There was a strange, almost wistful note to his voice, as though he were speaking from some place deeper than his words suggested. “When you see someone on the brink,” he continued, his gaze drifting to the window, “when they’re standing at the edge between life and death… you realize how fragile it all is. Being a doctor means you get to be there at those moments. You get to decide if someone gets to come back.”

He glanced back at you then, his eyes dark and inscrutable. “I suppose there’s something… meaningful about that.”

The explanation sounded genuine enough, but there was an elusive quality to his words, as if he were hiding something behind them. It was almost as if he were playing a part, reciting the lines expected of someone in his profession, but with a subtle twist that hinted at a deeper, unspoken truth. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he had deliberately left out the real reason, that there was something more lurking beneath the surface. But the way he spoke, with such conviction and calmness, made it hard to question him.

“Meaningful,” you echoed, considering his words. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Chishiya’s smile deepened ever so slightly, though his eyes remained as shadowed as ever. “It does,” he murmured, his voice dipping into that familiar quiet cadence that you had come to associate with him. “At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

He didn’t offer more, and you didn’t press, but it left you wondering. Who was he, really? There was so much about him that seemed out of place, as though he didn’t quite belong here in this world of beeping machines and sterile white walls. But those questions seemed to fade when he was around, replaced by a sense of ease you hadn’t felt in a long time.

One day, when he brought you a book from the hospital’s library—an old novel you’d mentioned wanting to read—your heart stirred with a flutter of warmth. He had remembered. You hadn’t even been sure he’d been listening when you’d said it in passing, yet here he was, handing the book to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I thought you might like something to occupy your time,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a faint glint of satisfaction in his eyes, as though he took pleasure in your surprise.

“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing down at the cover. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, settling into the chair beside your bed. “Besides, I like to see you smile.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the words, your fingers tightening around the book’s spine. He spoke so easily, as though they were just another fact. And yet, there was a sincerity there that made your heart quicken. The two of you continued to talk, falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation, but now there was an unspoken bond between you—a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

As you laughed at one of his dry, almost cynical jokes, you realized just how much you’d come to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just your doctor anymore. He was the person who brought light into the sterile stillness, whose presence made the days feel shorter and the nights less lonely.

You didn’t know when it had happened—when his daily visits had stopped being just a part of your recovery and had become the best part of your day. But it didn’t seem to matter. All you knew was that when Chishiya was there, everything felt… different. Better, even. And the thought of him not being there once you were discharged sent a quiet pang of dread through you.

You brushed the thought aside, telling yourself there would be time to worry about that later. For now, you were content to let things unfold, to savor the way his voice filled the silence, and to lose yourself in the captivating mystery of the doctor who had saved your life—and somehow, made you want to keep living it.

But as the days passed, there were moments—fleeting and faint—where you would catch a shadow in his eyes, or feel a strange chill in the air. Little things that seemed out of place, that made you wonder if there was more to him than he let on. If there was a reason why he seemed so invested in you, in ways that went beyond what any doctor should be.

You told yourself it was nothing. It had to be. But in the depths of your mind, a voice you couldn’t quite silence began to murmur. There was something about him—something hidden beneath the calm exterior, behind the kind words and soothing touch. And while part of you yearned to understand him, to get closer and unravel the enigma he presented, another part recoiled, sensing danger in the allure.

You brushed the thought aside again, convincing yourself that there was no harm in letting things unfold a little longer. You were drawn to him, captivated by the man who had breathed life back into you when you had come so close to losing it. Whatever else lingered beneath the surface could wait.

Chishiya leaned against the wall, watching you sleep with a predatory intensity that belied his calm demeanor. The sterile light of the hospital room bathed you in a soft glow, illuminating the delicate contours of your face, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed. It was a picture of innocence, and yet, he knew better.

Each night, as you drifted into unconsciousness, he had taken it upon himself to ensure your recovery. He would enter your room with a careful quietness, his heart racing with anticipation. The blood he had transfused into your veins was his own—rich, dark, and heady. With every drop, he watched as your body healed at an extraordinary rate, responding to his unique gift in a way that no ordinary human’s could.

But it was more than just healing. With each transfusion, he wove a delicate web around your mind, guiding your thoughts, dulling your instincts, and filling your dreams with vivid images of him—of the two of you together, as if fate had conspired to bring you closer. It was a power he had grown accustomed to wielding, the ability to shape your perception, to cloud your judgment, and to eliminate any lingering doubts that might threaten to disrupt his carefully laid plans.

Tonight, he felt particularly bold, his blood coursing through your veins like a gentle whisper. As he knelt beside your bed, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, letting his fingers linger against your skin. The cool touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt a familiar urge rise within him—the insatiable hunger that had first drawn him to you. But he pushed it down, focusing instead on the connection he shared with you in that moment.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, delving deep into your subconscious. The edges of your dreams were malleable, a landscape he could shape and mold to his liking. He wove his essence into the fabric of your thoughts, allowing himself to seep into every corner of your mind. You would find him there, in the laughter of shared moments and the warmth of stolen glances—never questioning, never doubting.

With every drop of his blood you took in, he could almost taste you—sweet and intoxicating, a tantalizing blend of life and vulnerability. Each transfusion deepened the bond between you, intertwining your fates in a way that transcended mere human comprehension. It was an unspoken pact, a mingling of blood that forged a connection so profound that it felt as if your very souls were entwined.

Chishiya reveled in the sensation, the way your body responded to his essence, healing at an accelerated pace. It wasn’t just a matter of recovering from injury; it was about forging something extraordinary, something that no one else could ever touch. With every heartbeat, he could feel your pulse syncing with his, an intimate rhythm that resonated deep within him. He no longer felt like an observer in your life; he was becoming a part of it, an intrinsic element of your very being.

As he navigated the landscape of your dreams, he could almost hear the echo of your thoughts. They were softer, gentler, reshaped by his influence. Fears and doubts that might have surfaced were quelled, replaced by feelings of safety and warmth whenever you thought of him. It was as if he had woven a soft blanket around your mind, lulling you into a state of trust that was as intoxicating as the blood flowing through your veins.

In those moments, he knew you could sense him. You would smile in your sleep, murmur his name as if it were a mantra, and he would feel a surge of triumph course through him. You were blissfully unaware of the truth, caught in the web of his enchantment. Chishiya rejoiced in the knowledge that he was the architect of your dreams, the keeper of your heart.

Your connection went beyond the physical; it was spiritual, primal, a merging of souls that would leave scars on both of you, forever binding you to him. As he watched you drift deeper into slumber, he felt the weight of his own immortality pressing against his chest. In you, he found something he thought he would never experience again—a reason to embrace the world and all its fragility.

Every time you took in his blood, he was there, living within you, and he could feel the bond solidifying, deepening into something admantine. With every transfusion, you became more of his and he, more of you. It was a dance of life and death, and Chishiya savored each step, each shared heartbeat, each lingering glance that tied you together in a way that transcended the boundaries of life itself.

In that silence of the night, with you sleeping soundly before him, he made another silent vow: he would protect you, not just from the world but from yourself, ensuring that you would never question the depths of your connection. After all, he had given you life, and now he intended to keep you, to possess you wholly, in a way that no one else could ever understand.

“Sleep well, Y/N,” he whispered softly, the words brushing against the boundary of your dreamscape. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, the contact felt like electricity. “I’ll always be here, watching over you.”

As he settled into the rhythm of your dreams, he felt a thrill of satisfaction wash over him. You were his, bound to him by blood and desire, your fate intertwined with his own. The world outside faded away, replaced by a reality he controlled—where every beat of your heart resonated with his own, and every sigh you breathed echoed with the promise of what was to come.

In your slumber, you would never suspect the truth. You would remain blissfully unaware of the shadows lurking beneath his charm, the darkness that fueled his desire. And while you thought you were healing, he knew the truth: he was ensnaring you deeper under his spell, inch by tantalizing inch.

And the best part? You would never question it.

As the days turned into weeks, you found comfort in the routine that Chishiya established. He would arrive each day with a new meal, often sharing stories of his life that drew you in like a moth to a flame. His voice, smooth and enchanting, would fill the room, replacing the sterile sounds of beeping machines with warmth and familiarity. You felt safe in his presence, as if he alone understood the fragility of life.

"Have you ever thought about what comes after all of this?" he asked one afternoon, his eyes dark with something deeper. “After you’re healed?”

You looked up, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. "Not really. I guess I just want to get back to my life." But the truth was, you had started to wonder if your life could ever be the same again—especially with Chishiya so close, making every moment feel more vivid.

"Life has a way of changing us," he replied, his lips curling into a smile that sent shivers down your spine. "You might find that what you once wanted pales in comparison to what you could have."

The way he spoke, it felt as if he were weaving a spell around you, tantalizing and entrancing. You brushed the thought aside, unable to shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on. But the sensation faded like mist, replaced by the warmth of his presence.

That night, as you drifted into sleep, you could feel his essence lingering in your dreams. Vivid images danced before you—Chishiya laughing, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as you shared moments of joy that felt almost too perfect. Each time you murmured his name in your sleep, a thrill of satisfaction coursed through him, binding you closer to him, reinforcing the invisible ties of your connection.

Yet, in the corners of your mind, shadows lurked—brief flickers of doubt that would evaporate like smoke when Chishiya was near. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him, a depth that both intrigued and unnerved you. But every time you reached for the questions, they slipped away like grains of sand, like they were never there.

One night, sleep enveloped you like a thick fog, and you drifted into a dream that felt more like a waking nightmare. The atmosphere was heavy, suffused with a gothic eeriness that settled over your senses, and you found yourself wandering through the dimly lit corridors of the hospital. The walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, shadows flickering just beyond the edges of your vision.

As you wandered, flashes of memories flickered in and out, disjointed yet vivid. You saw Chishiya standing at the entrance of your hospital room the night you were admitted, a sly smile on his lips as he volunteered to take you as his patient. His confidence radiated in the sterile air, and there was something unsettling about the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Then the scene shifted, and you were back in your room, the moonlight spilling through the window, casting eerie shapes across the floor. Chishiya was there, but he seemed different—more predatory. You watched as he stood silently beside your bed, his eyes fixed on you, a certain hunger swirling within them.

Suddenly, the dream twisted darker. You found yourself an unwilling observer of a horrifying act—Chishiya leaning over your sleeping form, an IV drip connected to your arm, his fingers deftly removing the tubing. In an instant, he was sucking on the end, your blood shimmering on his lips, glistening like the black nectar of forbidden fruit under the moonlight.

You tried to scream, but no sound escaped your lips as you witnessed the scene unfold. The veins beneath his eyes rippled, the whites of his eyes stained a pure crimson, a macabre reminder of the life he was stealing from you and the revealing of his true form. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

The sight of him licking your blood from his fingers sent a chill down your spine, refusing to waste a drop, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable. "Fuck," he murmured, his voice a sultry whisper that wrapped around you like chains, binding you to the horror before you. The twisted intimacy of the moment felt suffocating, and you could sense the bond he was forging—one that tethered your very essence to his.

Chishiya’s movements were deliberate and eerily calm as he reached for a bag of blood, the contents dark and viscous, far blacker than anything human.

His blood.

You felt your heart race, pounding against your chest like a trapped bird. Panic surged within you, but it was accompanied by an unsettling sense of familiarity, as though this was all part of a dream you had been too naive to realize. You felt the suffocating weight of his gaze, the thrill of danger mingling with an inexplicable attraction.

And then, just as abruptly, the dream shattered. You woke up, gasping for breath, the echoes of terror still reverberating in your mind. Your heart raced as you glanced around your hospital room, the soft beeping of machines grounding you in reality. But the image of Chishiya—the blood, the hunger—clung to you like a shroud.

Shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, you tried to rationalize it away. Perhaps it was just your subconscious playing tricks on you, an exaggerated reflection of the vulnerability you felt. Yet, as you lay there in the dark, a shiver ran down your spine. There was a whisper of truth in the darkness, an inkling that perhaps you didn’t know Chishiya as well as you thought you did.

The idea that you were entangled in something far more sinister than you could comprehend lingered at the edges of your mind. As you clutched the sheets tightly, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadows were closing in, and it was only a matter of time before the truth would surface.

But for now, you would push those thoughts aside, retreating into the safety of your dreams, even as the haunting memories of the night left you trembling in its wake.

Before you knew it, the morning sun peeked through the blinds. You blinked away the remnants of sleep and turned your head to find Chishiya sitting in the corner of the room, his gaze fixed intently on you. His presence was both a comfort and a source of unease, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice smooth as silk, but there was an undercurrent of something darker beneath his calm demeanor. “How are you feeling?”

You forced a smile, attempting to mask the tremor in your heart. “I—uh, I had a strange dream.”

His interest piqued, and for a brief moment, the usual amusement flickered in his eyes. “Strange how?” he asked, leaning forward, his posture relaxed yet attentive.

The memory of your nightmare washed over you, but you hesitated to divulge its true nature. “Just… odd,” you replied, choosing your words carefully. “Nothing to worry about, I guess.”

Chishiya studied you, a calculating expression on his face. There was a silence that stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. The lingering fear from your dream wrestled with the reality of his presence, and you felt the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, searching for something—answers, perhaps, or the cracks in your facade.

He nodded slowly, as if weighing your response. “Dreams can be powerful things. Sometimes, they reveal what we’re truly feeling, even when we don’t want them to.”

His words sent a chill through you, resonating with the unease that had taken root in your chest. You felt like a moth drawn to a flame, teetering on the edge of enlightenment while also fearful of the depths it could reveal. The shadows of your dream flitted in your mind, reminding you of the danger lurking behind his charming exterior.

“Did you remember anything specific?” he pressed, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone, as if he were a predator probing for weakness in his prey.

You shifted under his gaze, unwilling to disclose the true content of your nightmare. “Not really. Just… ghosts of memories, I suppose.”

His smile was sharp, as if he enjoyed the game you were playing, but the air felt heavy with tension. “Past experiences can hold great meaning,” he replied, the words laced with an enigmatic undertone. “But memories are also unreliable and simply serve as backbones for rumination.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. The shadows danced at the edge of your vision, and despite your efforts to shake off the remnants of your fear, you felt a chill crawl up your spine.

Chishiya’s expression remained inscrutable as he regarded you for a moment longer, then he straightened, the tension in the air shifting. “You need rest,” he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You were left in the soft hum of the machines, the silence amplifying your thoughts. Looking up at your IV bags, they were clear—no blood. A wave of unease washed over you, and you instinctively reached for the line, feeling the cold plastic against your skin. It was strange, unsettling, as if the absence of his blood—if your crazy dream had any basis in reality—was somehow a void that left the air heavy with unsaid words.

Outside, Chishiya leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to center himself. He was acutely aware of the nightmare that had haunted you; it had been no accident. By withholding his usual compulsion last night, he had intended to see how much you knew—how aware you had become of the threads connecting you both.

He knew you had glimpsed the darkness lurking beneath the surface, the unsettling truths about your bond. The look of horror on your face as you witnessed his true form had been exhilarating yet worrying. He knew had to act before those fears took root and blossomed into doubt.

Chishiya pondered his next move. You were already beginning to piece together the puzzle, and that was commendable. But he needed to ensure that your trust in him was absolute. The last thing he wanted was for you to start questioning your reality or, worse, seeking out the truth beyond the lies he had crafted.

It was time to tighten the bonds that tied you to him. He could feel the connection deepening with each passing day, but now he needed to escalate things, to ensure you remained ensnared in his web. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

His mind raced with possibilities, each more tantalizing than the last. The idea of bringing you deeper into his world, of showing you the true nature of your connection, thrilled him. He envisioned guiding you through the shadows, illuminating the dark corners of your mind, and transforming your fear into blind acceptance—for eternity.

For the next few days, Chishiya adopted a calculated distance, allowing a careful space to grow between you. It was a tactic, one designed to cultivate a longing in you, to ignite a sense of loss that would render you desperate for his presence. He had learned long ago that desire, once kindled, could burn hotter than any flame.

During the day, he was a ghost, slipping in and out of the hospital like a shadow, his interactions minimal yet charged. You caught glimpses of him from afar—his laughter mingling with the nurses, his easy demeanor drawing people in. But when night fell, you would drift into dreams steeped in his essence, each encounter filled with a vividness that left you breathless.

While you slept, he entered your subconscious like a thief in the night, weaving a tapestry of sensations and emotions that rendered you utterly enthralled. He didn't need to compel you; instead, he sparked a craving within, igniting a hunger that pulsed in your veins. You would dream of him standing in the doorway of your room, his presence a beacon of light amidst the dark, a sweet reminder of everything you were missing.

You often awoke in the middle of the night, heart racing, yearning for him. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the warmth of his gaze that lingered in your memory. Each day without him felt like a slow unraveling, the world outside your window dimming without his touch.

Your nights became a blend of fragmented dreams where he danced just out of reach, a haunting melody that pulled at your heart. You felt the ache of longing settle deep within you, a relentless pulse that begged for his return. It was as if he had planted seeds of desire in the fertile ground of your mind, nurturing them with whispered promises that echoed through your dreams.

“Chishiya?” you would murmur, a question directed at the void that seemed to mock you. The silence that followed felt heavy, yet a part of you knew he was there, lurking just beyond the veil of your awareness, savoring your fragility.

Throughout the daytime, you tried to focus on your recovery, but his absence haunted you, lurking at the edges of your thoughts like an unwelcome specter. You walked around the hospital, taking small strides that felt like victories in your healing journey. Yet, each step felt heavy with the weight of longing, as you scanned the corridors for a glimpse of him. The nurses, concerned for your well-being, would occasionally check in, their gentle smiles unable to dispel the heaviness that clung to your heart. You found yourself restless, unable to shake the feeling that someone was missing.

Chishiya’s grand plan unfolded beautifully. Each passing day, you became more attuned to the bond between you, the pull he had on your heart. You craved his presence, the way he made you feel—safe yet exhilarated, ensnared yet free. He was a paradox, a mixture of light and shadow, and you wanted to explore every facet of him.

One night, as you lay in the dim light of your room, the hospital quiet around you, he slipped back into your dreams. This time, he was more vivid than ever, stepping into the moonlight that filtered through your window, his eyes shining like liquid silver.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a caress that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

In the dream, you reached for him, desperation clawing at your chest. “I need you,” you breathed, the words spilling from your lips before you could think to hold them back. The longing was palpable, a force that pulled you toward him.

Chishiya smiled, that predatory smile that sent shivers down your spine, and stepped closer. “Good,” he murmured, his voice a silken whisper.

As you moved closer to him in the dream, the space between you vanished, and you felt the weight of his presence envelop you. The warmth radiating from him was intoxicating, igniting a fire within that had been smoldering since his absence.

“Don’t you see?” he continued, his gaze piercing into your soul. “You need me just as much as I need you.”

The intensity of his words resonated deep within you, igniting a longing so profound it was almost painful. You could feel your heart racing, your body aching for the connection you once shared. “I can’t live without you,” you whispered, fully aware of how much power he held over you.

A smile crept across his face, an expression that melded satisfaction with something darker. “Then let me show you what it truly means to surrender completely.”

He leaned closer, and the world around you blurred into a haze of color and sensation, the lines between reality and dreams merging until you felt as if you were suspended in a state of blissful oblivion. You surrendered to the pull of his essence, the bond between you solidifying with every heartbeat.

When you awoke the next morning, your heart was still racing, the remnants of the dream clinging to you like a silken web. The absence of Chishiya felt more profound than before, a hollow wound that begged to be filled. You could almost hear his voice echoing in your mind, whispering promises of connection and understanding.

As the day stretched on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the emptiness he had left behind. The nurses bustled around you, their chatter falling on deaf ears as your thoughts spiraled into an abyss of longing.

He had woven his influence into the fabric of your very being, and you felt more entangled than ever. With every moment that passed, you realized you were no longer just a patient recovering in a hospital. You were a puppet, dancing on the strings he had crafted, and the desire to be near him pulled you inexorably closer to the edge of his world.

But you didn’t care.

The only thing you wanted—needed—was Chishiya.

That night, sleep was a treacherous companion, dragging you into the depths of a nightmare you couldn't escape. You were back on your bike, the world around you bright and carefree, until it shattered in an instant. The screeching of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and the sudden pain that ripped through you were all too vivid. The memory of the accident clawed at your mind, the feeling of helplessness suffocating you. You saw the drunk driver’s face, a twisted mask of indifference, and felt the darkness creeping in as your consciousness faded.

Then came the familiar presence, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold terror—Chishiya had saved you. He had stitched you back together with modern medicine and healed you with his own blood. Every moment he spent by your side had been woven with an obsession that, in your shattered mind, felt like the purest form of love.

As you jolted awake, tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling with the weight of the realization. “Chishiya!” you sobbed, the name a desperate plea escaping your lips as you grasped at the darkness, willing him to emerge.

From the shadows, he appeared, an ethereal figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through your window. His eyes glinted with an intensity that set your heart racing. “I’m here, Y/N,” he murmured, gliding toward you with an unsettling grace. The moment you stood, he wrapped his arms around you, the world solidified, his presence anchoring you back to reality.

The gnawing urge inside you felt like poison, a slow death that throbbed with each heartbeat. The pain of his absence had become unbearable, a void that swallowed you whole. “I can’t live without you,” you whispered, the admission heavy on your tongue.

Chishiya pulled back slightly, his gaze piercing through you as he stroked your hair, soothing the tremors that wracked your body. “What would you be willing to do for me?” he asked, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

“Anything,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips like a sacred vow.

“Would you live for me?” he pressed, his expression unwavering.

“Only with you,” you replied, the conviction in your voice growing stronger.

In that moment, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against the delicate skin of your neck. The sensation ignited something primal within you, a fire that surged through your veins. Then, without warning, he bit down, and a wave of pure ecstasy flooded every nerve in your body.

As Chishiya sank his fangs into your neck, a sensation unlike any other surged through him. The warmth of your blood flowed into him, rich and vibrant, igniting a hunger that had long been a shadow at the edge of his existence. It was a taste that transcended the mere physical; it was the essence of you, the very core of your being, submerging his senses with an exquisite euphoria he hadn't known he craved.

With every drop, he felt the ties between you solidify, weaving a bond that could never be broken even in death. The world outside faded into obscurity, leaving behind nothing but the rhythm of your heart and the potent pulse of your life force surging through him. This was not merely sustenance; it was a communion, a merging of souls that set his very essence ablaze.

He reveled in the taste, feeling it seep into his soul, satiating a deep hunger within that he had never fully understood. The sensation was overwhelming, and for a fleeting moment, all his thoughts dissolved into a singular focus: you. The connection deepened tenfold, intertwining your fates in a way that felt predestined. He was no longer just a watcher in the shadows; he was a part of you, and you were a part of him.

Every heartbeat resonated with the truth of your bond, a melody that played in harmony with the pulse of your blood. He drank deeper, savoring the intimacy of the moment, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken promise of loyalty, protection, and an unyielding devotion. You were his—enthralled and ensnared, bound by a love that was both beautiful and terrifying.

Your vision grew spotty, your heartrate slowing, your body melting into his arms like a puddle of surrender. The world around you faded away, leaving only the clarity of his presence—his warmth, his scent, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

Chishiya’s grip tightened around you as he continued to drink, his fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that belied the ferocity of his earlier actions. Finally, he pulled away, your blood covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. His eyes glowed red, piercing into you like liquid fire.

“You’re mine,” he declared, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a flame deep within your core. With that proclamation, a sense of belonging surged through you—a realization that this was where you were meant to be.

“Will you stay with me?” Chishiya’s gaze bore into yours, searching for an answer, for affirmation. The intensity of his stare held you captive, and you felt the weight of his question settle deep within you.

“Always,” you breathed, the words spilling from your lips with a conviction that surprised even you. The promise hung between you like a delicate thread, binding your fates together in an intricate tapestry of love and darkness. Life ebbed away from you, your breaths growing shallow and your body cold.

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes that promised both pleasure and peril. With a swift motion, he bit into his wrist, the crimson liquid pooling at the wound. He took in a mouthful of his own blood, then captured your lips with his, coaxing you to drink.

Suddently, energy thrummed at the tips of your fingers, and instinctively, you brought your hands up to his face, holding him as he kissed new life into you. It was a rebirth, a metamorphosis that coursed through your veins like wildfire.

The metallic taste of his blood was soon replaced by something sweet and utterly indescribable, quenching a hunger you didn’t know you had until the moment his lips touched yours. With each passing second, your heartbeat grew stronger, intensifying the sensation and drawing you deeper into a realm where pleasure and pain intertwined seamlessly.

As the kiss lingered, the world around you faded even further, leaving only the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies entwined. You could feel the insatiable hunger swelling within you, demanding more. With a fervent need, you trailed soft kisses down his neck, inhaling his scent—irresistible and amplified. Every breath drew you closer to the edge of something carnal.

In a surge of instinct, your teeth sank into the delicate skin of his neck. Chishiya let out a moan as his hands threaded into your hair, holding you tighter in his embrace. The taste of his blood mingled with the sweetness of your rebirth ignited a fire that surged through you. It was a delicious paradox, the push and pull of pleasure and hunger intertwining, leaving you gasping for more.

You could feel his heartbeat thrumming beneath your lips, each pulse a seductive rhythm that urged you on. With every swallow, your senses heightened, drawing you deeper into the essence of him. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a game where both of you were willing participants, losing yourselves in the moment.

Chishiya’s grip tightened, fingers curling around your nape as if to ground you, to keep you from drifting away in ecstasy. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Take what you need.”

The command sent a thrill through you, amplifying your desire. You bit down a little harder, savoring the rich, metallic flavor that flooded your senses, blending with the sweet, almost ambrosial undertones. It felt like power—his vulnerability in your hands, a delicious contrast to the control he had always held over you.

As you pulled back, your eyes met his, and the intensity of his gaze nearly stole your breath. He leaned into you and kissed you once more, both of you licking whatever remnants of blood remained on each other’s lips.

The implications of your actions hung in the air, promising a future steeped in darkness and unbridled passion. But in that moment, nothing else mattered—only the undeniable connection between you, the bond forged in blood and desire.

“Together,” you whispered, the vow escaping your lips like a prayer, a commitment to whatever darkness lay ahead.

His smile was wicked, full of promise and peril. “Always,” he replied, sealing your pact with a kiss that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It was a declaration of war against the mundane, a leap into the unknown where love and madness entwined like vines around a tree.

In that instant, you knew there was no turning back. You were his, and he was yours, the two of you entwined in a dance of desire that would take you both to the edge of oblivion and beyond.

thank you for reading <3

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buckets-and-trees · 8 months ago

Note

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Love That's Laid Beside Me

Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. ��Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

READ THE NEXT PART: THE SILENCE OF THE HUSHED SUBLIME read more of the Cedar Trees AU

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #royal au #steve rogers x reader #royal steve rogers #aspen wrote something #cedar trees au #askpen

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literatureloverx · 3 months ago

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Please could you do headcanons or mini scenarios for first date with chuuya, dazai and fyodor?

Also please could I have an anon emoji...except I don't know which emoji because I'm indecisive.

Hello, my dear! Of course you can. How about 🍄-anon?♥️

I wrote scenarios. I hope it’s okay!♥️

BSD MEN x the first date

BSD MEN x ideal type fem!reader darlings.

Characters: Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Dostoevsky had always been meticulous in his plans, and tonight was no exception. Every detail of your first date had been carefully orchestrated to unfold exactly as he envisioned.

He had lured you into a seemingly casual meeting of “intellectuals” in a secluded, elegant setting, a lavish estate that echoed the grandeur of the past.

The soft light cast by ornate chandeliers flickered against the walls adorned with grand paintings, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.

You had asked him beforehand what to wear, and his answer had been simple yet deliberate: a white, elegant dress.

As you stepped into the opulent space, you felt a wave of acceptance wash over you; everyone else was dressed in white, their attire a silent agreement that you belonged in this curated circle.

Fyodor’s puppets, each a pawn in his grand design, mingled and chatted, their laughter echoing like distant music, adding to the atmosphere of sophistication.

But as the evening progressed, one by one, his so-called friends vanished, slipping away into the vast halls, leaving you increasingly alone with him. The soft strains of Tchaikovsky filled the air, and you could almost feel the notes dancing around you, wrapping you in an embrace as intimate as the one Fyodor offered.

He positioned himself beside you, his gaze piercing yet inviting, ensuring you felt safe and secure in his grasp. Fyodor was a man who possessed an unusual liking for you, a sentiment that surprised even him.

He watched you subtly, dissecting your thoughts and reconstructing them to his will while appearing to engage you in intimate conversation. Each word he spoke felt like a thread woven into the fabric of your connection, drawing you closer to him.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was reading your mind, an idea that thrilled you and made you blush.

Your heart raced as you responded to his questions, and every so often, he would lean in just a little closer, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. This only deepened his fascination with you. It was the beginning of a push and pull that would last forever, a delicate balance between desire and control.

As you sipped wine together, the rich flavor blossoming on your palate, you found yourself drawn into discussions that felt as if they were crafted by him.

The way he spoke, weaving complex ideas with effortless elegance, made you feel as if you were engaging in a private dance, a conversation that held the weight of something profoundly intimate. He ensured you were served exquisite meals, each dish a work of art, the presentation as much a part of the experience as the taste.

But the flicker of curiosity crossed your mind as you finally noticed his friends disappearing into thin air, leaving the two of you in a secluded corner of the hall.

The vastness of the space seemed to close in around you, amplifying the intensity of your interaction. You turned to him, the question hovering on the tip of your tongue, but before you could voice it, he leaned in closer, his voice low and reassuring.

“No need to worry about them, darling,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “They’re simply adept at recognizing the signs.”

Yet, the way he looked at you held a different message, one that was unmistakably clear: They know I wanted you all to myself.

The tension in the air shifted, a palpable electricity between you as he continued to draw you in, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and the beautiful strains of classical music, you realized that you were no longer a mere guest in his carefully constructed world; you were the centerpiece of it.

And as Fyodor continued to engage you, the boundaries of your reality blurred, enveloping you in a night filled with possibilities and whispered promises that felt both exhilarating and dangerously thrilling.

Dazai Osamu

Dazai had always possessed a certain charm that could lure people into his world with little more than a smile. But today, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, the stakes felt different.

He had watched you for months, a sweet girl with your head in the clouds, and he realized you had become a central figure in his world. He wanted to love you, to spend time with you, and to create a perfect first date—something memorable and just for you. He arranged a light-hearted escape to the beach, masking the weight of his intentions beneath a carefree façade.

As you arrived, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the water. The air was thick with the scent of salt and freedom, creating an atmosphere of tranquil beauty.

Dazai had spread out a checkered blanket on the sand, artfully arranged with an array of delectable treats—fresh fruit, pastries, and a bottle of sparkling juice. It looked inviting and perfect, just like the romance he knew you craved.

“Welcome to our little paradise, Bella~” he said, gesturing with an exaggerated flourish.

His smile was bright, yet he felt a genuine pressure to make this evening special for you. He wanted to impress you, to make you happy—more than anything, he wanted this to be good. Perfect, even, just the way you deserved.

As you settled onto the blanket, Dazai could see the way your eyes sparkled with delight. You looked enchanted, as though you were stepping into one of your daydreams.

A warmth blossomed within him, but it was accompanied by a tinge of fear—the fear of not living up to your expectations and the fear of losing you. He couldn’t quite understand why the thought of losing you felt like a weight pressing on his chest, yet he acknowledged it nonetheless. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him; he had experienced the pain of losing someone he cherished before.

However, you were different from his beloved friend. You were unlike Odasaku. You were addictive to him, and he wanted to make this connection official.

Dazai sat beside you, the blanket soft beneath you, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind. He began teasing you mercilessly, weaving absurd stories from his life that he concocted on the spot, knowing the real ones might scare you. These dangerous escapades left you laughing, yet beneath it all, he felt as if he were peeling back the layers of both of you.

The more he revealed, the more he exposed his own vulnerabilities. Each laugh and shared glance deepened the connection between you, weaving an invisible thread that pulled him closer.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost got kicked out of a café for reading too loudly?” he began, eyes glimmering with mischief.

He spun a wild tale filled with embellishments, his laughter contagious. You joined in, your giggles ringing like a melody against the backdrop of the waves crashing against the shore.

As the sun continued its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Dazai’s expression shifted. The playful façade faded, revealing the deeper truth lurking beneath.

He felt almost naked, utterly vulnerable under your gaze, acutely aware that you truly saw him. He knew that you loved him. The little spark he was about to showcase would blossom into a deep relationship, and he was ready to overcome his fear.

He turned to you, his gaze drifting toward the ocean, as if searching for something just out of reach.

“You know,” he mused, his voice soft, “there’s a certain beauty in transience. We grasp at moments, knowing they’re destined to fade.”

You felt a chill at his words, a hint of the sadness that lingered behind his signature smile. It hung between you like a threadbare veil, a reminder of the battles he fought internally. Dazai leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth curving, yet the light in his eyes seemed dimmed by unspoken truths.

In that moment, you sensed the depth of his feelings. You reached for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his. “But isn’t that what makes those moments worth savoring? The fact that they won’t last forever?”

He turned to you, something vulnerable shining in his gaze. He swallowed hard, fighting against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I may not know if I’ve found my reason to live, but there’s certainly someone who makes it worth trying.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the water, you felt the weight of his confession settle between you, anchoring the moment in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You smiled softly, leaning closer, the warm colors of sunset wrapping around you. In that moment, everything felt possible—each fleeting second with him was something to cherish, something beautiful and fleeting, just like the sunset itself.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya had spared no detail tonight. The restaurant, renowned for its exclusivity, was reserved entirely for the two of you. Its luxurious décor, all deep mahogany and velvet, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, felt intimate, almost too perfect for a first date. You’d heard of this place, its name whispered with reverence, but you hadn’t expected him to pull such strings.

Chuuya stood beside you, dressed sharply in a fitted black suit, his hat set aside on the chair next to him. His cobalt eyes, typically sharp and commanding, held something softer tonight as they settled on you.

Still, there was an edge beneath it— confidence. He leaned in, closer than necessary, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk when he saw the way your breath hitched at his proximity.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice smooth but laced with that familiar confidence. Also low, teasing, but there was a firmness in the way he held himself, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed, gathering your composure, and nodded. “It’s beautiful, Chuuya. You didn’t have to go this far.”

He pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before taking his own seat across from you.

“It’s incredible,” you said, still in awe of the setting. The candlelight flickered between you, giving his already striking features a softer, more intimate look. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled, almost as if relieved by your response.

“Only the best for our first date,” he said, leaning back slightly, fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. “Wanted to make sure it was memorable.”

The evening began with a flow of the finest dishes, each one more exquisite than the last. Chuuya, known for his impeccable taste, made sure everything was perfect. You both talked—about anything and everything.

The usual rough edges Chuuya carried with him seemed to smooth out as the conversation deepened, the two of you slipping into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.

At one point, you caught the way he looked at you—his usual sharpness softened by something deeper. His hand reached across the table, brushing against yours lightly before settling atop it. His touch was warm, contrasting with the cool elegance of the restaurant around you.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “It’s almost… too perfect.”

Chuuya’s lips quirked into a grin, but there was something sincere in his eyes. “You deserve perfect,” he replied, voice low, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence. “I don’t do anything halfway; you should know that by now.”

The night continued to unfold, filled with laughter and quiet moments exchanged between the two of you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on your dreams, your fears, and everything in between. By the time dessert arrived—an intricate display of chocolate and gold leaf—you found yourself more captivated by him than you had ever anticipated.

As the evening began to wind down, Chuuya leaned back in his chair, studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. “So, what do you think of the Port Mafia’s culinary choices?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d be dining at a mafia-recommended restaurant. I’m impressed, really.”

Chuuya chuckled, a genuine sound that warmed you from within. “Maybe it’s time to show you more of what my world has to offer,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “But only the best parts, I promise.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the connection between you deepening in the cozy atmosphere. As you finished your dessert, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary. The evening felt like a carefully orchestrated performance, one where both of you were the stars.

With the candles flickering softly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between you.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #yandere bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you

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gnawing-suspicion · 24 days ago

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Favorite Hannigram Fics of 2024

So! I’ve been thinking about making this list for weeks but it overwhelmed me — I started reading Hannigram fic this year and have consumed millions of words of it. I began without an ao3 account so many of the ones I started with are lost to the aether, but here are the absolute gems, the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Some are popular, others less known.

My tastes might not be yours, but I am drawn to excellent writing, slow burns, power dynamics and a healthy dose of twisted kink. So! ONWARD!

Note: The Shape of Me Will Always be You and Consenting to Dream are a given.

Blackbird by @emungere - “Shortly after Will kills Garret Jacob Hobbs, he and Hannibal stumble into a D/s relationship. It's a relief to have Hannibal telling him what to do, but the closer they become, the closer he gets to realizing who and what Hannibal really is.”

I love D/s Hannigram and this was exquisite. Everything by emungere is, of course, but this is my favorite.

Bram Stoker’s HANNIBAL by @dbmars - “Hannibal + Bram Stoker's Dracula + the classic novel = a new version of the seductive vampire legend.”

A love letter to both the 90s film and the original work. This is the longest fic I read this year and it consumed me for weeks. It’s gorgeous, sexy, beautifully-written and every casting choice made me kick my feet with glee.

Secretary by FragileTeacup and ThisIsMyDesignHannibal - “Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head.”

Secretary is one of my favorite films ever, and this take on it had me foaming at the mouth. It’s so good. SO GOOD.

Hinterland by @pastelwell - “When they crash into the water he believes it’s over. He followed his final impulse to do the right thing by his friends, his family, the world. The last flutters of morality within him had guided him, even as he looked into the eyes of a murderer who had somehow compelled his fall from grace. Here, in the frigid deep waters, their chapter is closed and their story is concluded. Except it isn’t. This is just the beginning.”

A divine post-fall fic of rehabilitation, angst, longing and some of the hottest smut imaginable. I love a post-fall fic and this is top-tier!!

With skin intact and altered souls by romanticallyinept - Will snorts his laughter, shifting to tuck his hands under his arms. “Come on,” he says, turning his head to look over at Hannibal. “The chances of two serial killers being in one car would be astronomical.”

They’re both serial killers!!! What are the odds!! This one is so fun, so fucked, so hot. Really great dialogue.

Our Shadows, That are Bold, Sing by @highermagic - “The monster under Will's bed calls himself Hannibal. He has lived there since Will was old enough to have a bed. He is very smart, and Will likes him very much. He protects Will's dreams, wakes him when he has nightmares. He embraces Will with shadows that black out the morning light when dawn comes, and sings soft songs that Will doesn't know.”

Listen, I read basically every one of HigherMagic’s fics this year. They’re all, every one of them, incredible. This one really got me, though. Monster Hannibal is my husband now.

patroclus in furs by bleakmidwinter - “Will Graham has been acting in heterosexual porn for years but is fired when his manager encourages him to take a higher-paying job for a homosexual centric porn company. There, he finds his expectations turned upside down.”

This is obviously ABSURD but oh my god, did I love it. Will Graham having a sexual identity crisis with notoriously sadistic porn god Hannibal is like candy to me. 10/10.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia - “Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.”

Will gets obsessed with Hannibal’s secret ASMR channel. Incredible phone sex is the natural conclusion. The descriptions of sound in this are viscerally gorgeous.

Funeral of Flowers by thecountessolivia - “Venice, 1870. The heart of winter. The once great city republic is on its knees. The banned institution of Carnevale lives on discreetly in the masked balls that light up the grand palazzi of the rich and the well-born.”

Hannigram at Carnevale. Sumptuous, longing, decadently described historical AU. Loved this to death.

Black Rock Mountain by bokunojinsei - “Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.”

An even smuttier They’re Both Serial Killers fic that had me howling in the streets. You want bloody horny Hannigram? This is elite!!

To Fuel Your Radiance by GoldenUsagi - “AU where Will is the actual Devil. After Hannibal sells his soul, a fascination begins to develop between them. Will is intrigued by the unique monster Hannibal is, while Hannibal thinks Will is the most magnificent thing he's ever encountered. As their conversations continue, their involvement with each other becomes something else entirely.”

I’m not gonna lie, I think this was my favorite fic I read this year. Will as The Devil is so hot I screamed. There’s a scene at the end that is so fucked I lost my mind. Not even close to safe or sane. A masterpiece.

The Night Owl by sourweather - “Will works the graveyard shift at his University's 24 hour Library. There's another student who only comes in to study in the dead of night. Will can't explain why, but something about that boy has caught his attention.”

College AU! COLLEGE AU! Featuring some great Beverly fun.

An Ounce of Wit by winddragon - “AKA a modern magical AU where the entire point is to turn Will Graham into a catboy.”

The infamous Will is a Catboy fic that is somehow SO good. I had to be convinced to read this but I’m so glad I did. It’s an absolute delight, and the dark magic is so cool?! Goofy, yes, but delicious.

old-fashioned divinity candy by antiheroblake - “the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham”

An ongoing WIP that has me hooked by the throat. If you like the boys being absolutely stupid for each other and also absolutely stupid about it, you’ll eat this up. Young Hannibal is such an idiot. I love him.

in the gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini - “Hannibal and Will have murder husbands mind palace sex, and Alana watches obsessively.”

I mean, it does what it says on the box. It does it SO WELL. Honk honk and, if I may add, awoooga.

show me where it hurts (I’ll lick it clean) by antiheroblake - “at 18, will inherits a ranch upon the death of his father, a man who died from a supposed family curse. at 33, will becomes prone to accidents, and the new town doctor starts to see him more than he sees his cattle.”

Accident-prone Will in the Old West HATES his sexy new doctor. You won’t believe what happens next!!!

Bring Out Your Desires by TheCosmicNSFW - “After spontaneously having to save a man's life inside an ambulance, Hannibal Lecter finds Will Graham being naughty in the bathroom. He decides that Will Graham might be a more valuable asset than he originally thought, and he convinces Will to let him work out his true desires - but is offering your mind to Hannibal on a silver platter such a great idea?”

An ongoing Hypnosis Kink fic that has absolutely inspired some of Fever Dreams. Bonus points for a fic that gave me a new kink!! Doesn’t happen every day!

The Sugar Bowl by BelladonnaWyck and raiast

Listen, ok, I like a sugar daddy fic. I’m picky about them, though!! This one involves University Will and he’s such a perfect mess.

Mine to Touch by piginapoketuesday - “Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.”

This one popped up during my exploration of the Sub Will Graham tag and woooooof, yes. Yes!!

2 weeks by EarthsickWithoutYou - “After reading the news of Will's marriage to Molly, an incarcerated Hannibal cannot bear their separation or his own jealousy any longer. He breaks out and finds Will, proposing a bet: that Will gives Hannibal two weeks to prove his love and convince Will to run away with him. If Hannibal succeeds, they will be together for life, but if he fails, he'll return to the BSHCI and never see Will again. With Hannibal's heart on the line and Will's inner moral conflict hard to hear above the roar of his longing for the killer, what choice is he going to make?”

Insanely jealous Hannibal + bone-deep yearning + “I can give you what she never could” = 🔥🔥🔥🔥😤🥵

Appetites of the Flesh by Magnetism_bind - “Will gets aroused at murder scenes. Eventually this gets noticed.”

A rec from @graciereadshannigram that also introduced me to a new kink. It’s twisted, obviously, but godDAMN it’s hot. And speaking of Gracie…

CrimsonDesires by Scifibabe - “Post-fall, Will and Hannibal discover that Alana became a bestselling erotic novelist and surprise! She based her characters on Will and Hannibal. Drunken dramatic reading of various passages ensues.”

This is absolute crack and I ate it up like ICE CREAM. A kick-your-feet delight. Watch as Will blushes so hard he nearly dies. And lest we forget my fave of her Kinktober fics…

Touched for the Very First Time by Scifibabe - “One night post-fall, Will proposes something new: letting Hannibal seduce him as if it's his first time. As Will slips into a younger, more hesitant version of himself, he’s reminded of all the things he's never let himself fully experience. With Hannibal guiding him through each step, Will discovers just how much he still craves being taken care of, in every sense.”

This blew my mind. It’s so hot. Thank you for the food!!!! Bonus mention for the Daddy Kink Fisting episode.

act on it by acheforhim - “Will is lonely and his long-distance fuckbuddy encourages him to pursue Hannibal.”

It took me MONTHS into reading fic to give omegaverse a try. I’m still fussy about it, but this one is so hot.

Graham Cam by bigfootghostdick - “In nearly every aspect of his life, Hannibal is wholly unabashed in the endeavors he chooses to take on, especially where Will is concerned. At his core, he lives outside the realm of societal norms, so in a twisted effort to learn more about the beautiful empath that has captured his attention so utterly, he decides to install hidden cameras inside Will’s home.

Will is blissfully unaware…or is he?”

Hdhagahajajbfdg.

Illicit Affairs by EarthsickWithoutYou - “AU in which Will is living a quiet, safe, but deeply conflicted life in Maine, married to Molly but secretly longing for his dark Becoming. Mired in self-hatred and despair, he seeks comfort in the church. But things get very complicated once he meets the new priest at his parish, Father Hannibal Lecter.”

I have a massive Priest Kink and this did it for me in every way possible. I love how all of EarthsickWithoutYou’s fics are so deeply religious. I’m not, but I love reading it!!

suffer does the wolf by cedarbranch - “Under extreme physical duress, a werewolf's transformation cycles may fall out of phase with the moon. Will has experienced it once before. He'd hoped he never would again. But the fall was not kind to him, and when two full moons pass afterwards with no sign of a change, something has to give.

The solution: a tight leather collar, woven through with pure silver chain to prevent unwanted transformation. Will hates the collar. But it might be different when Hannibal's the one putting it on him.”

I may be iffy on omegaverse, but I LOVE fics where Will is a werewolf. It just suits him. That plus BDSM power dynamics? SOLD

even though our love is doomed by bleakmidwinter - “Hannibal solves the mystery of time travel and he and Will decide to go into the past and take opportunities previously missed along with rewriting the regrets they each hold. Changing the past does not effect the future and they have free reign to play as the please.”

I loved this, oh how I loved this, particularly when they fuck themselves. What a treat for me!!

How to Be a Good Boy: A Guide for the Novice Werewolf by HigherMagic - “Will gets scratched by a strange dog during the full moon.”

I told you I like Will as a werewolf and this is peak!!

WHEW. I know there are more I could add and some I’ve lost track of or forgotten, but these fics changed me!! I obviously pored through the archives of a few authors - HigherMagic, emungere, MissDisoriental, thecountessolivia, EarthsickWithoutYou, Scifibabe, antiheroblake, bleakmidwinter and DBMars all kept me fed this year! 🖤 without all their incredible work I never would’ve started writing my own fic, so I’m deeply grateful.

I love this fandom and now that you can see my tastes, I am very open to your recs 🖤🖤🖤

#hannigram #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fic #Hannibal fic recs #hannigram fic rec #fanfic

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