#he wishes he could hold your hand in his and feel the warmth of your smooth palms

[connorsui]

If your passions called, Simon would answer. Boxes arrived while he was gone, filled with fresh journals for your poems, new pens for your writing, and all kinds of baking supplies to spark your creativity. He wanted you to always feel his presence, even if he was half a world away, each package a testament to his unwavering affection. When he returned, you would often slip him small, handwritten notes—your own words of love and encouragement—folded neatly, and he’d keep them close to his heart, tucked in a pocket as if they were a part of him. The others joked about him looking like a:

“proper husband”

for always stopping to read your handwriting, touching every letter as if every word you wrote was a treasure on its own.

There were nights, long ones, when you’d catch him sitting at the kitchen table, leafing through a scrapbook you’d made during his deployment. Pictures of the two of you, your annotations in the margins, your thoughts and memories, capturing moments he hadn’t even noticed you were holding onto. He’d touch each page, almost reverently, lingering on the edges like he was afraid his touch might ruin the paper. And when you’d join him, sliding into his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, he’d tuck his face into your shoulder, silent, holding you close as if you were the only thing grounding him to this world.

Simon never argued with you; never needed to. He believed in “happy wife, happy life” with a fervency others might never understand. If you didn’t like something, he’d change it without hesitation. If you felt uncomfortable going out he would take you back home in his arms, helping you out of your dress with gentle hands, making your favorite tea in the kitchen, casting you warm, lingering glances as you sipped your cup by his side with the prettiest smile he swears he has never seen before in his life.

There were times you’d tease him, testing the boundaries of his devotion with light-hearted remarks about your whims. But no matter what you said, he never wavered. If anything, his dedication seemed to intensify, his love quiet but resolute, unwavering in the face of your every wish. You could see it in his eyes, the way they softened whenever he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world he wanted, needed. To Simon, you were perfection, and nothing you did could ever change that.

When it came to intimacy, Simon was utterly faithful. At night, his hands would roam your form reverently, memorizing every curve, every detail he’d missed in his months away. When you traced the veins on his neck, his breaths came out heavy, the weight of his love pressing down on him. Your touch left him trembling, his normally steady hands shaking as he held himself over you, eyes dark with an almost sacred devotion as he rocked into you with slow, deep movements that left him weak.

When you’d murmur his name, kiss his scarred knuckles, and hold him close, Simon felt himself unraveling in your arms, reduced to nothing but his love for you. His broad, muscular form sank against you, a sturdy weight softened by your warmth, and he’d surrender completely, letting you hold him, a silent confession of his trust and vulnerability.

In the stillness of those moments, he would remember a time when he hadn’t believed in softness when life had taught him only to take and endure. But now, in your arms, Simon Riley found a new truth: that he could give, could cherish, and, most of all, could love without fear. And as he drifted to sleep, wrapped in your love, he knew that he had finally found his purpose—not in battle, nor vengeance, but in this quiet, steadfast devotion to the woman who had taught him that he was worthy of peace.

[hearts4hughes]

heart-shaped box - rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mdni ; smut ; mentions of murder ; dead body ; dark!rafe x naive!reader ; manipulation at its finest ; p in v

A/N: based on this request :)

the soft, night breeze sent a chill up your spine, raising goosebumps on your arms. you shiver, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie further down, the fabric thick and warm, but it can’t push away the feeling that something’s wrong. the night is unusually quiet around tannyhill. the only sound is the occasional creak of the porch as it groans beneath the weight of the house settling, like a sigh too heavy to escape.

you begin to walk up the steps to rafe’s house, heading towards his front door. the porch light is flickering, casting long shadows over the yard; you make a mental note to let rafe know. silence fills the air thickly, making it hard to breath. something feels off. you should probably turn back, but then your eyes lock onto the truck. biting your cheek, you contemplate investigating it. with a sigh, you strut towards the dark, looming truck.

it sits there in the driveway, bigger than life, its dark frame causing an unsettling feeling to vibrate through you. there’s almost a magnetic field around it, pulling you towards it more, and more. you bite down on your cheek, the taste of blood sharp against your tongue. you could just leave it, pretend you never saw it. you could turn back, find your way back to the warmth of the house, and into rafe’s arms. but you don’t.

now, approaching the back of the truck, you hesitate, your hand hovering near the door handle, the cool metal somehow burning against your skin. and then, you crack the door open, peaking through carefully.

and there it is—renfield’s body. his lifeless eyes bore into yours. the realization comes in a sickening wave, rising in your throat like bile. you gasp, mindlessly backing up slowly when your back hits a strong, muscular chest.

“i really wish you didn’t do that.” rafe’s voice is low, quiet, a knife wrapped in velvet. his icy blue eyes slice into you like cracked glass. he grabs your wrists harshly, his fingers wrapping tightly around your quickening pulse.

“rafe-”

“what did i tell you? huh? what do i always tell you?!” his voice rises, the veins in his neck bulging as he shakes you. his bangs cling to his sweat stained forehead. his breath is warm against your frigid skin. your breath hitches in your throat and you let out a small whimper. “to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you! and what do you do? you- you find something that doesn’t concern you!” he yells.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” tears stream down your rosy cheeks. your voice cracks, horror rushing through you like a wildfire. “i didn’t mean to.” you choke on your sobs. he stares you down, his eyes not the same as before. they lack the warmth and sparkle that he holds only for you

rafe stifles a laugh, but it’s humorless, almost cruel. his grip on your wrists tightens, but his eyes lose focus for a moment. “fuck, baby.” he mutters, as though he’s just waking from a nightmare, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to stop himself from losing control. his voice lowers to a growl. “you don’t know what you just did.”

you’re not sure whether it’s fear or something else that keeps you standing there, the tears still falling, still stinging your cheeks. you tremble in his grip, the fear now tangled with something else—something that feels almost like longing, despite the chaos.

he doesn’t let go, not yet. he pulls you upstairs, into the quiet of the house, but your thoughts are scattered. the fear still hangs heavy in the air between you, and your heart still races, but there’s a weight to him now, a strange quiet around you both. the confusion mixes with something else, something raw, but you don’t know if it’s the fear or the emotions he’s stirred in you. you try to breathe, try to calm the panic inside, but it only grows.

he leads you into his room and you sit on his bed. he stands in front of you, his features blank of any emotion. you wince as you bite a sore spot in your cheek. he sighs, shaking his head as he looks at you.

“you know i’d never hurt you, right?” he asks, his fingers land below your chin, lifting your head towards him. you stare at him, your doe eyes red with tears and your pouty lips trembling. you nod at his inquisition. “because i love you, baby. i love you more than anything on this planet.” his finger travels from your chin to your mouth, pulling at your bottom lip. “and- and sometimes love makes us do crazy things.”

a shock runs through your body and settles between your legs, something not like the fear you felt before. you nod mindlessly at rafe’s words. he groans at your captivating, yet dumb gaze. his hand travels lower, unzipping your sweatshirt, and exposing your tiny, sheer tank top, your bare breasts peaking through. he bites his lip and mutters curses.

“you’re so fucking pretty, my girl.” his voice is raspy and deep. you’re not sure why, but when he runs a finger over your covered nipple, you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath. it might have been the fear paralyzing you, or maybe the naivety of you to allow yourself to fall victim to rafe’s manipulations, but you felt arousal pool in your panties.

you open your mouth to speak, but he shushes you. “shhh, just let me take care of you. let me apologize for yelling.” he whispers. you squeeze your thighs together, eliciting a chuckle from him. “desperate already, hm?”

you don’t reply, you can’t, you can barely muster up a nod as he grabs the hem of your top, pulling it over your head. the cold air hits your warm nipples causing them to perk up. he rolls one inbetween his fingers, examining each and every reaction you had. you moan, throwing your head back and giving him access to your neck.

his mouth latches onto your neck, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. your moans become louder as his hands slip down to your jeans and begin undoing them, all while his face is in the crook of your neck. he leaves deep hickies in the wake of his lips, kissing the sore skin after. he moves down your body, capturing your breasts between his lips. he sucks and nips at them, a delicious mix between pain and pleasure.

you open your eyes when he pulls away, fumbling with his belt, and zipper. his bulge causes a tent in his pants that makes your mouth water. he moans as he pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. his angry length hits his abdomen and you can’t help but stare.

it isn’t long before he’s lining himself up with your entrance, teasingly running his length between your soaking folds. “always so wet for me,” he tsked, running his tip over your clit. you twitch at his movements. he takes his ring and middle finger, running it through your sopping folds and bringing it to his lips. he sucks his digits clean, groaning at the taste.

“please, rafe,” you whine, the ache between your legs borderline unbearable. “need you so bad.” your words are barely coherent as you’re wrapped up in a blanket of ecstasy and pleasure.

he smirks and pushes himself inside you with one quick thrust. you gasp, clinging onto his biceps and creating crescent shaped indents. he barely gives you time to adjust before he’s pulling out and snapping his hips against yours. a long drawn-out whimper leaves your lips as his length stretches you.

“shit- you’re so perfect.” he mumbles, leaving sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck. he picks up his pace slightly, hitting your cervix with each thrust. he groans as your walls clench around him. “squeezing the shit out of me, baby.”

your mouth hangs agape and incoherent mumbles tumble out. you’ve had sex with rafe plenty of times, but you’ll never get used to his enormous size.

he pulls away from your neck to observe your face as he ruthlessly pounds into you. he swore he could have cum on the spot as your face contorts in pleasure. he picks up his pace, repeatedly hitting the spongy spot inside you. the only sounds to be heard are the sweet sounds falling from your lips and skin slapping against each other.

suddenly, he pulls out, changing positions so you were on top of him. he realigned himself with your cunt and slammed you down on it. your eyes rolled back in your head at the new angle. you were so full that there was an outline of his bulge inside of you. your hands fall to his chest, holding yourself up as you bounce on of him.

“tell me you love me.” he commands, his hands on your hips guiding you up and down his cock. your juices pool around the base of his cock, creating a white ring. “tell me you’ll never leave me.”

“i love you, rafey.” the words tumble out of your mouth without much thought. “i’ll never leave you.”

he grunts in satisfaction before holding your hips and halting your movements. before you can complain, he’s bucking up into you at a rapid pace. your toes curl with each thrust. his hands fall between your legs, circling your clit at a rapid pace.

with your eyes closed, you miss the way his eyes are trained on you. the way his jaw clenches with each moan you make or how his muscles tighten as he struggles to compose himself.

he feels your walls spasm around him and he immediately pulls you flush against his chest. his strong arms wrap around your body as he thrusts up faster now, making you squeeze your eyes shut. it isn’t long before white takes over your vision and you come with a final whimper. your juices drip from your cunt onto his lower body.

he chases his own high as you lay limp in his arms. the only words that slip from your pathetic mouth are ramblings of his name. he continues to abuse your pussy until he’s dumping his load inside you, painting your walls white. his hips finally begin to slow as you both come down from your climaxes.

“i love you so much, baby.” he whispers, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. he’s still buried deep inside of you, making it hard to think. “just forget what you saw before, alright?” his breath is hot on your skin, leaving a burning sensation as you’re stretched to your maximum.

“ok,”

“such a good girl.”

he coos, pulling himself out of you. you whine at the emptiness. he disappears momentarily before coming back with a wet rag and fresh clothes. he kneels in front of you, kissing your thighs, and cleaning the mess between them. the more he kisses and praises you, the less you remember the body in his truck.

and the next morning, when the world feels softer, and you wake up tangled in the sheets, the light coming through the windows, rafe stands at the foot of the bed. his expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, something that says he’s already moved past the moment.

“get ready,” he says, his voice low, distant. “we’re leaving for the bahamas. now.”

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Reader) Monster AU pt 17

(Naga Jamil has a tendency to coil up during classes, usually sitting by windows and anywhere sunny so he can keep his reptile half warm. He is technically warm-blooded, but it does take a large amount of food and magical ability to keep the snake half warm, so he will take the sunlight's assistance whenever available. During the winter, Jamil can often be found curled up in Scarabia in the sun-warmed sands or coiled around heaters for the warmth during classes.)

Warnings: Monsterverse TWST, yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, violence, stressful meetings, protective behavior, obsessive behavior, cruelty, somewhat brat!reader, slight violence, fem pronouned reader, redemption, backhanded comments, Nemean Lions, Hellcat, Shinigami, Cervitaur, Dragons, Vampire bat, Harpies, Drider, Toad, Rat,

~~~~~~~~

Cheka smiled and happily ate the plentiful food in front of him, sitting side by side with Grim as they feasted. You decided to have an early lunch seeing as you were going to be busy around actual lunch time. It made you happy to see Grim wasn't being aggressive towards Cheka anymore and Ortho was happy to keep the cub entertained.

Naturally, you made a simple sandwich that Silver could easily replicate as the Cervitaur was keen to help you in the kitchen especially due to your leg. Despite how you wanted to walk around and even make something complicated like fried chicken- that new deep fryer Idia made was calling to you- Malleus was keen to keep you off of your leg. It was likely a result of the diligent guarding of the dragon that your leg began to stop hurting, feeling much better than it had since you were stabbed.

All you really needed to do was wait until the actual noon hour rolled around for your fated meeting of the representatives, but you were free until then. As you watched your two young charges eat and play together, a faint cool breeze on the back of your neck had you turning to look at your company. Malleus stood with you, his tail holding you up a little above where you would stand and taking the majority of the weight off your leg. He had insisted on giving Silver a break and seemed content to just hold you.

Rook and Vil were going to be stopping by soon, wanting to choose the outfit you would wear to this deciding of fates. They were actually surprised to hear that the representatives could potentially take you away and were determined to do everything they could to stop that outcome. It seemed like everyone you spoke to about the upcoming event was of a similar mind, even Riddle swore to appear before the group to plead your case.

"You seem so happy with your cubs, (Y/n)."

"Well, Cheka isn't mine to keep, but he is a sweet boy. And of course I'm happy to see him and Grim getting along."

"I am glad. I feel much of the same when I am among my Hoard."

A slight grimace pulled at the Dragon's smile and you frowned in response. Something was clearly bothering him.

"Tsuno?"

"I don't wish to lose any member of my Hoard, yourself included. Twice I have come close to facing that reality, and twice I have been late to defend you. The Ancient One has given me excellent council that I hope to heed, and with Lilia's guidance, I have decided to bestow a blessing upon you."

"What kind of blessing?"

Malleus held up a clawed hand, shadows seeming to be drawn to the space above it and almost seemed to condense into a physical object suspended in space. The item looked like one of the magestones that the other sudents carried around on their weapons, only somewhat different. It was a bright green crystal ball that sat encased in black metal akin to briar thorns, the top of the bauble making a loop that could easily connect to the upgraded tracking collar you now wore.

"This," Malleus started, letting you observe the interesting summoned item, "is something I hold quite dear to me. It is a twin to the magestone I now use. It belonged to my mother, both stones passed into Lilia's care along with my egg before she... It means a lot to Briar Valley. It means a lot to me. Only a Dragon of my lineage can wield the unruly wild magic it contains. I have considered and agonized over ways to keep you safe, now I can do exactly that. So long as you carry it with you, I am only a breath away. Speak my name, my full name, and it will bring me to your aid."

"Tsuno, I... I don't know if I can accept this. If it means so much to you, I would be consumed with guilt should anything happen to it."

"Just as I would be consumed with guilt if anything happened to you. Indulge me, (Y/n), and wear it proudly. You are always under threat and I can't always be there. Let me be your protector and call upon me when you need me. Call me to your side even when your life isn't at risk, I adore our conversations. Allow me protect what matters to me."

This was clearly something vitally important to Malleus, so you didn't fight the Dragon further on the matter. He moved and maneuvered his tail to attach the lovely bauble to your collar, smiling as it gleamed proudly from its spot against your collarbone. It almost felt weightless on your warm skin and you vaguely wondered if it was a result of being a Magestone.

Malleus couldn't help but admire the way it adorned your soft body, drawing his affectionate gaze over your figure. He was being truthful when he said you could call out to him with it, but that was not the only role the gleaming stone played. It was the smaller of a pair of Magestones and the larger partner was always with Malleus at all times. He could now keep his eyes on you even from a distance, the pair of Magestones working as a viewing glass. On top of the added benefit of checking in on you, Malleus could now slowly begin feeding his own magic into it and you.

He took to heart the wise words of his trusted friend and advisor, Lilia, and decided to try and begin the process of extending your life. It would take time and patience on his part, but once it was ready and charged enough with his magic, your life would last as long as his own. Naturally, he wanted your approval before taking such a drastic measure, but he did not wish to live without his most precious treasure. Even Lilia would one day die before the great Dragon, he did not wish the same fate for you.

He recognized that you may see it as too much or may be upset that he acted in selfishness, but Malleus already lost so much to this world. His mother. His father. The Dragon refused to lose you too. Besides, he was certain you would carry the next generation of Draconia and he wanted you to be there to see your young grow and mature. It took almost 30 years for a Fae infant to even begin walking, let alone the slow aging Dragon Fae. If you were to carry his young, Lilia's young, and possibly even Silver or Sebek's young, you would need a long life to support those children with your ever loving and compassionate heart. He refused to let his hatchlings grow up without a mother.

"It looks stunning on you, (Y/n)."

"Are you sure about this, Tsuno? I'm still worried something may happen-"

"Enough. If I was not sure, I would not have gifted it to you. You have already given me so much, allow this Dragon to guard the treasures he values."

"Alright. It isn't like I'm going to be removing this collar anytime soon... Not unless the representatives decide to take me away."

Malleus frowned deeply at this, a sudden low rumble of lightning sounding overhead. You were surprised to hear the lightning as you had not seen a cloud in the sky earlier. It was while you glanced towards a window that Malleus gently used his hand to draw your gaze back to him.

"They will not take you. They will have to fight me for even thinking they could take you away."

"Malleus?"

"Tsuno. I am quite partial to the name you have gifted me regardless of how flippant the act may have been in the moment, I would rather you use it."

"Tsuno," you glanced from his serious expression to the rolling storm that appeared outside, "are you the one who has been summoning the lightning?"

"Yes. It is a bad habit of mine. My emotions easily impact the weather and even directly control it at times. Lightning tends to come about with my anger. Snow often comes forth with my sorrow. My joy usually brings clear skies. I must guard my emotions carefully and control them with a steady mind."

"So the lightning that second night I spent here... The storm that woke me..."

"It was a creation of my emotion. Poachers sought to take you, I refused to let them."

It always surprised you to learn the sheer strength Malleus himself carried as he seemed so gentle with you and Grim. Apparently that gentle disposition did not extend to others outside of his Hoard and it made you vaguely worry about those around you. If Malleus was that powerful, how could anyone stop him if he truly snapped one day? Perhaps that is why Lilia emphasized the calming impact the Hoard had on the Dragon. You were beginning to realize the weight of the duty that had been lain upon your shoulders.

But where did that put Grim? As far as you were concerned Grim was your boy, your child, your cub. If you were part of Malleus' Hoard, did that include Grim as well? Lilia said only Hoard members could enter a nest built by Malleus, and Grim slept in the nest with you and the rest of the Hoard.

"Tsuno, is Grim a member of your Hoard?"

"As your cub, yes. Any you choose to take under your care shall be accepted into my Hoard. I have been more than serious about your standing among the Hoard and how much your happiness matters to me. Grim makes you happy and he has managed to win over the others as well."

"Will you protect him like you protect me?"

"With all the power I have available to me."

~~~~~~~~

You were a little frustrated at the ensemble Vil and Rook insisted on for your meeting with the representatives, feeling like some kind of dress-up doll. Both men had insisted that they be allowed to coordinate your outfit and you gave up trying to fight them on their choices. They took choosing your outfit rather seriously and once they finally agreed on one, you had to let them dress you up in it.

Apparently they weren't the only ones who were keen to keep you in Night Raven. Almost all of the Housewardens and their Vice-Housewardens showed up at your dorm to try and render aid, all except Leona who was oddly absent. Despite how you wanted to ease their concerns and tell them about Papa Hades' willingness to keep the representatives from taking you, you didn't want to disrupt the plan by loudly telling everyone about it. If you were going to be safe in Night Raven College, you had to at least make an attempt to expose the representative that tried to have you killed.

Now it felt almost like you were on a death march, Silver carrying you, Cheka, and Grim to where you were supposed to meet the representatives. You were flanked on either side by Idia, Ortho, and Sebek. Not only did your guarding entourage follow you, but Papa Hades and Malleus walked silently along as well, using a complex mix of invisibility spells and concealment spells to hide their presence. When you asked why they were hiding themselves, Papa Hades said the representative was more likely to act out against you if they didn't know of their presence.

It made sense, so you simply nodded along and let the Shinigami and Dragon do as they wished.

Crowley was holding the meeting in the Hall of Mirrors and your anxiety slowly raised as the Cervitaur walked you to what would be a gathering to decide your fate. If you wanted to have any hope of returning to your home, you would have to stay at Night Raven College. You fell into this monstrous world here, you could escape this world of madness here. All you had to do was root yourself in place and refuse to let the others take you away. Easier said than done.

The doors opened ahead of you as Silver walked you into the room, feeling everyone's eyes landing on you the second you crossed the threshold. It was more than a little unnerving to be the center of such intense attention. That is why you were glad Cheka and Grim were both with you during this. The cub and kit only purred reassuringly as you held onto them much in the way a child would hold to stuffed animals.

"There you are, (Y/n)," Crowley greeted you with a smile despite the fact he knew you were arriving, it was obviously more for the representatives to put a name to their wayward ideas of you being Human, "glad you could join us for this."

"I don't have much of a choice when people demand my time and threaten my peace to satisfy their own curiosity."

Crowley was silent for a moment, privy to the plan that had been put in place but somewhat thrown off by your more than clipped words. He was used to your proclivity to be a bit more goading around him- he did collar you first, after all- but he also knew you were more of a tentatively gentle disposition in most cases. It was odd to him to have you be less than understanding of the situation.

"... Anyway, these are the representatives of Twisted Wonderland. Several have come from the various Kingdoms and Queendoms to confirm you are being treated fairly at Night Raven College. Some are also here to plead their case for why you should be removed from Night Raven College."

You nodded, taking a quick look across the several representatives seated around the large table. There were various types of creatures present and one in particular stood out to you. A man with an orange and golden mane sat proudly at a spot between where you were and the end of the table, his neck, arms, and body adorned with gemstones and golden chains. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Cheka," the little cub looked up at you curiously, "is that Dada?"

He followed your pointing finger to the Lion man who looked caught off guard by you singling him out before his eyes landed on the cub in your arms. There was little to describe how surprised he looked as several representatives began murmuring and talking about the Nemean Lion you held so securely. Cheka was not nearly as thrown off by all of this as the representatives were, a wide and excited smile taking over his features as he began to wiggle in your grasp. His little paws reached out to the older Lion and you were happy to facilitate letting him return to his father.

Though it took more energy and strength than you cared to admit to release the cub, you still placed the young boy on the table and let him scamper away. A vague sadness pulled at your heart as Cheka scrambled past several others to reach his father's arms, purring loudly and cuddling into the surprised man's embrace. Clearly, the lion had not expected such a greeting but took it in stride and held the cub all the same.

"You know," you started, tone somewhat chastising, "Leona may be your brother but he is not- and never will be- a good option for a babysitter. I'm fairly sure you knew that going into this. But, I'm always game to take little Cheka on field trips if you ever need a break from him. He's a sweetheart."

The Lion man seemed somewhat dubious about your offer even as the cub cuddled into his chest and purred at him. If anything, not even Crowley seemed at ease despite how non-threatening the cub actually was. It was this unease that gave a representative- a toad looking man with bugged eyes- the courage to speak.

"No Nemean Lion should ever be allowed near a Human, not even cubs! They slaughtered Humans for food and we all know that Sunset Savana was instrumental in driving the species to extinction-"

"And we all know it happened in the past, long before this current generation of Lions. Are you truly so bogged down by history that you would hold contempt for those who are not directly responsible for the current issue at hand? Or is it simply your own racism against them that makes you speak so confidently about a topic you nor your ancestors were privy to? In fact, I've learned that other species had shown violence in the past to Humans- from Unicorns, to Naga, to Kelpies, even certain Fae- and not only that but disease and greedily hoarding my species as pets played similar roles in the death of Humanity. Can you stay with the utmost confidence that every Human was killed by a Nemean Lion?"

The toad man opened and closed his mouth, unable to respond to your direct accusation with any grace or ability to save face. In some ways, you wondered if you were being too aggressive in your responses, but Papa Hades made your role in this dance very clear. Any representative who pushed their agendas against you should be met with equal or greater pushback from you. Besides, you have been witness to the poor treatment Ruggie and Leona received simply for being born the species they were.

"They- well, they-!"

"Yes or no. Can you say every Human was killed by a Neman Lion?"

"... No."

"My point exactly. Unless you have something truly useful to add to the conversation, maybe it isn't your place to speak at all on the matter."

The man seemed to shrink back into his seet under your gaze, wanting to be anywhere but that room as your ire was clear. His silence was enough reason for you to move on from the conversation, turning to Crowley expectantly to get this 'conference' under way.

"Yes, well, let us continue with assessing her general well-being-"

~•§•~

"-which is why I petition the Human to be put into my care."

It had been at least three hours of listening to the various representatives speak and make their opinions known. Around the midway mark is when you realized it wasn't just representatives, but scientists who were clearly eager to try and test you for more information. You were mostly tolerant of the pressing and curious natures of the scientists, but your tolerance was running low.

Cheka had moved between you and his Dada several times in an effort to keep himself entertained, currently laying in your arms and batting at Silver's uniform. Despite the exciteable cub, no one was willing to reprimand him as it was more than clear you were willing to defend him from them. Even with his interruptions- which were quite welcome given the monotony of the conversations- many had been able to make their opinions and views known without too much infighting.

Few dared to speak openly against one another, especially after you promptly shut down that first toad-man in defense of the Sunset Savana King- Falena Kingscholar- and you were bored to tears. There was only a handful of representatives who had not spoken yet- the representative of Briar Valley being the most prominent- but even those who were more long-winded were losing patience with the man who now spoke.

He was a Rat looking monster that somewhat reminded you of a Gnoll given his twisted pelt stretched over a humanoid skeleton. Since he first started speaking you got a bad feeling from him and the way he seemed to sneer most of his words. You were less than amused with this creature than you figured to be possible and you were bored enough to have a bit of sport at the expense of the clearly proud Rat.

Not only had he been ranting about how 'trustworthy' he was, but he spouted off repeated flashoods. You understood that many in Twisted Wonderland didn't understand Humans and debated what species Humans were, but the Rat spoke down to you like he was doing a favor in 'educating' you with falsehoods and lies. Something you could call intuition told you that this beast was the one who hired the Wolves.

"Tell me again what species you think humans come from?"

"Pigs. Obviously."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong."

"Not possible! I-"

"We're an evolved species of great ape. Not monkey either, we don't have prehensile tails. Ape."

The Rat seemed to try and save face, glancing around at the table before back to you.

"Well, surely a blood sample could prove-"

"Furthermore, this idea of yours that claims Humans frequently consumed their young is just reprehensible. We killed for our young. True, some abandoned them or gave them to others to raise, but to dare suggest such a thing as all Humans eating their children? Absolutely vile."

He choked and tried to speak over you, huffing out the words in indignation. It was clear to you that your pushing and less than approachable behavior was unsettling the supposed 'Human expert' as you called out his falsehoods in front of the other representatives and scientists. Many of the scientists taking notes as you spoke.

"They were theories-"

"And they are wrong. That is not the issue I have right now. My issue is the fact you are trying to argue these things with me- an actual Human- who actually knows about, you guessed it, Humans. A Human who has lived among other Humans for the majority of my life. A literal world of nothing but Humans as the primary sentient species. Do I need to continue?"

The Rat man was glaring at you now and his lip curled upwards to bare his teeth at you. Despite his attempt to look intimidating, you refused to back down or let the Rat-man talk over you. If anything, he looked pathetic instead of frightening. He didn't even seem to notice you reaching up to cover Cheka's ears as he huffed at you.

"You could try to be polite-"

"Polite? When you came in here- the place I call home- and decided you were the expert on my species. Then proceeded to say the most inane bullshit fucking excuse of a theory and dare say I need to be polite when I disagree with your flat nonsense?"

"I have a degree-"

"And I am the 'creature' you claim to study. Not comparable in the slightest. If you're as educated as you claim, you would know that."

The silence that followed was thick and hung oppressively in the air, but you still sat tall and stared the man down. Cheka- whose ears were were covered by your hands- tilted his head curiously at you as he patted at your hands to move so he could hear. You weren't about to let the cub hear your angry cursing or taunting words, keeping your hands in place on his kitten soft rounded Lion ears.

The Rat was not faring well against your words, clearly becoming angry due to how his wormed tail writhed and his fur fluffed. There was a kind of tension in his limbs that made you wonder if he were really about to leap at you. He certainly seemed angry enough to try such a brazen act.

"What's wrong, Mr. 'Overly-Educated'? Lion got your tongue?"

"If only they killed you."

"Excuse you?"

"If only those idiotic hounds killed you. I pay them everything they demand to get rid of you and they had to muck it up! Wasted money and resources-!"

His voice caught in his throat as he seemed to realize the situation he just put himself in. Some of the representatives were shocked and some just seemed angry. All of them were staring at the Rat. When it seemed like he was about to back track on his words, you decided to be more than a little spiteful and threw in a light jab just to add salt to the wound.

"Go on. You were so confident before, did you run out of all that bought power and bullshit, or did you just realize how out of your depth you truly are?"

Only a singular eye-twitch told you what was coming as he threw himself across the table, his main goal being to maim and injure you however possible. He didn't even get close enough for Silver to respond before he was flying back the direction he came. Materializing out of the air was a familiar grayish-blue hand of a more than intimidating entity standing at your back. Even the Rat, who was trying to pull himself to his feet, flinched upon seeing the smoldering fury of the elder Shinigami behind you.

"Want to try that again, or have you realized the extent to which you've fucked up?"

"I'll kill you-!"

It was then another sound met your ears, one that rumbled and grew in intensity as the air around you began to spark with green lightning. Almost all representatives were unsettled by the show of power as Malleus materialized next to Silver, the rage in his eyes clear. Outside the deep sound of rolling thunder boomed across the island as his rage became clear.

The only one who didn't seem bothered by Malleus' appearance was the rather elegant woman that represented Briar Valley. In fact, she looked thoroughly amused by the rage of the younger Dragon. She had first drawn your eye when you had begun to mentally tire of the conversation a few hours ago, looking much like an effeminate Malleus. The only notable difference this woman had to Malleus was her apparent chest and thinner set face. Otherwise the two looked like they could be related.

Malleus told you earlier that day that his mother and father were no longer among the living. This meant that the woman who now smiled at the Dragon was either his grandmother or great grandmother. She certainly didn't look to be that old, but then again, Lilia didn't look old either. She sat alone at the table with no clear guards, but you figured a Dragon didn't need guards.

"Malleus, calm yourself, little hatchling."

"I refuse. He dare threaten my Hoard and even dare to claim violence towards my Hoard. He pays for his transgression with his life."

"That is fair, but also not your place to deliver punishment on this island. We are not in Briar Valley anymore."

"That makes his crime no less serious."

Talking to the woman clearly began to calm Malleus, and the Rat took this lapse of rage as an invitation. Blinded by rage at your earlier taunts, the Rat decided to try and leap at you again. The one who blocked him this time was an unexpected presence you hadn't even heard enter.

Leona stood holding the Rat by the neck, clearly amused in squeezing the fragile windpipe of the squirming creature.

"There you are, Mousey. Figured you had that brat with you, certainly had me running around campus looking for you two. Funny, I didn't think Rats had that much interest in Mice."

"Hi, Leona."

"That's all you're gonna say?"

"... You're an awful babysitter and you weren't invited to this meeting."

"Don't care and you're welcome, Mousey."

The Lion grinned as he threw the Rat back, clearly playing with the rodent man and not overly threatened by him. This sudden interjection was enough to make the other representatives answer the call to action as several rushed forward to detain the Rat that admitted to hiring poachers. It was while this uproar was taking place that several other Housewardens made their presence known, all of them entering the room and taking up posts around you in what was akin to body-blocking the representatives.

"You know," you loudly started, bringing a silent order to the chaos around you as all eyes turned back to you, "for all the talk of if I am safe here, not one person has addressed the full issue at large; am I safe anywhere in Twisted Wonderland? A representative- someone who is standing on guard for their country- had the gall to hire poachers to kill me and attacked me while surrounded by their peers. A room of people who claim to have my best interests in mind were incapable of acting to protect or aid me. Can any of you say you are doing a good job at keeping my safety in mind, or is this all just posturing? So far, the only ones who have truly acted in my best interests are those right here at Night Raven College and their associates. Judging from all of the complaints and issues brought up, it all pales in the light of reality that none of you could come to my defense when I needed it. Where I'm sitting, it seems like I'm already safest right here. Sure, poachers are here, but clearly they are everywhere. I don't think this meeting needs to continue, especially in light of the circumstances."

~•§•~

Despite the events, it still took time to wrap up the meeting and for the representatives to agree with you. Some scientists were still dubious and some wanted just a moment more to study you. It took your agreement to several research sessions in the future, visiting various Kingdoms and Queendoms personally, and Crowley's promise to give consistent wellness updates to get them to concede to your wishes.

Only a handful of representatives were interested in staying past the meeting, and it was primarily those who already had ties to the students that guarded you. Some scientists hovered around and- with your permission as well as Malleus' permission- took photos of you for reference and further study. None seemed willing to push you too much given the Shinigami and Dragon combo that hovered over your shoulder.

"Thank you, (Y/n), for keeping Cheka safe. He is an adventurous little cub, but he is still my son and I value your willingness to protect him."

"Of course, Falena! And I was serious about keeping an eye on him if you ever need a break. My door is always open to that rascal."

"At least I know better than to leave him with Leona again."

The Lion in question was scowling as Cheka ran circles around him, tugging at his arms and tail. You just smiled in response to the sight before turning back to Falena. He wasn't nearly as outwardly hostile as Leona had been and he was keenly interested in your recounting of the Wolves incident.

"Eh, don't write off Leona too soon. The way I hear it, he spent all day trying to track Cheka down. Despite how grumpy that Lion is- and the fact he will never admit to it- he has a good heart. He cares more than he will ever say, he just isn't the best at showing it."

"Then you see more in him than the rest of Sunset Savana. You seem to also see more in Sunset Savana than the rest of the world. I thank you for that."

"No need to thank. I've seen first hand how others treat your citizens and I don't appreciate it. We can only learn from history so we do not repeat it, no need to guilt descendants for the actions of their ancestors."

"Would it be too forward of me to hope you'll visit Sunset Savana some day?"

"Well, according to the representatives, I'll be visiting a lot of places in the near future. I don't see why Sunset Savana can't be included in those visits."

"Meeting you now and hearing your wisdom, it's hard to believe my ancestors were so willing to harm Humans for nothing more than a meal. Hopefully I can prove to the world that we in Sunset Savana have grown past such violence and barbarism."

"I don't blame you for what has happened, and I am glad it was Leona who saved me from the Wolves. Hopefully this can be an end to the mistreatment of your people."

"I would love nothing more."

As you spoke to the Nemean Lion King amicably, two Dragons watched you from afar. One elder and one younger. With both of them standing next to one another their shared blood was obvious.

"I see you saw it fit to gift her your father's magestone. You are aware those magestones are a pair and how they work, correct?"

Malleus nodded, gazing out at the Human he so greatly adored. Everything about this day had taught him more than ever that he could not bear parting with his most prized Hoard member. It didn't matter to him if he had to work endlessly to defend his soft Human, the world would fall in line for daring to encroach on his Hoard.

"You are certain?"

"More than I can convey."

"Very well. You will do well to take heed of how fragile Humans are, especially to us."

"I won't let you down."

"Lilia still has a few centuries left based on his species, his guidance will be invaluable. You may not wish to heed his words at all times, but you should still hear them all the same. I remember my court of Humans... Such fascinating creatures. Be a good Dragon and guard your Hoard."

"With my life."

[merbear25]

Glad to see requests are open again 😃

May I please request headcanons for Sanji, Mihawk, and Shanks reacting to their girlfriend being afraid to express herself sexually due to being judged and shamed by previous exes?

Heyy! I was sick today but felt a smidge better to write. Thank you for sending in a request. I hope you like it 💜💜

CW: SFW, mentions of shame, fem!reader in mind, fluff, established relationship, headcanons

Helping you feel comfortable in your own skin (Sanji, Mihawk, Shanks)

Sanji

He had always been the type to lift those closest to him up. Knowing that you were dealing with these issues…well, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

He cursed those who’d put these insecurities in your head but never did so in front of you, because he thought it would be better not to remind you of your time with them.

All he wanted to do was shower you with the warmth and affection that you deserved.

There wasn’t anything you had to say, everything was understood from just a look. Whatever it was that you needed, he gave it to you without a second thought.

Baby steps were more than okay with him, since the ultimate goal was breaking down those pesky barriers.

Nights when you fell asleep holding each other, just talking about anything that popped into your heads were among his favorites.

Never pushy, he wanted you to decide when you felt comfortable moving to different stages. Each step in your relationship was met with enthusiasm, after all he was crazy about you. However, it was normal to take two steps forward and one step back, to which his patience never ran dry.

Mihawk

He could never understand how someone like you ended up with scum like them. Holding you closely, he made sure you felt every ounce of emotion harbored in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Though he was not the type to freely express himself emotionally, that did not mean he didn’t feel just as deeply as everyone else.

When you poured your heart out to him, he’d simply listen. Adding only subtle nods and soft touches of reassurance when necessary.

There was no denying how attractive he found you, but with that being said, he knew how to exercise his patience.

Having you feel comfortable and confident would give him more satisfaction than any sexual encounter you’d have together.

His touches were warm but wouldn’t cross any of your personal boundaries. They didn’t linger for too long, even though sometimes you wish they did.

Silent with his words but loud with action, he let you know exactly what he was thinking with a simple caress of your hand.

Shanks

A tender look was all he gave when you shared your insecurities with him. 

There were so many thoughts swimming in his head, ones which were polarizing: wanting to give you everything that you felt like you might have lost and wanting to curse those who took that confidence from you.

He was soft with you, letting you feel every ounce of love and adoration that you’d missed out on with your past relationships.

The compliments he gave you were never-ending. Even if you might roll your eyes from his cheesy flattery, each one stuck with you.

He was very vocal about how gorgeous he found you, hoping that some of his words would sink in and overcome at least one of those insecure thoughts of yours.

He was physically affectionate but didn’t test your limits. The respect he had towards you was worth more than selfishly putting his needs above yours.

That puppy-like love he had for you worked its charm, eventually giving you an added confidence boost when being with him.

[crescent-blades]

Hello there, I just wanted to say how much I enjoy your posts! This is actually my first time making a request, and I'm not sure if you're currently taking them, but I thought I’d ask anyway.

Would you be able to create a scenario or imagine something sweet involving sleeping with Kokushibo? Nothing explicit, just something heartwarming would be great! No pressure if you’re not up for it, and take your time. Wishing you a wonderful day or night!

ᥫ᭡ Sleeping w/Kokushibō

Pairings⌇Kokushibō × Reader insert [Kokushibō and Y/N are in a pre-established relationship, ie married]

A/N⌇oh no worries at all, my asks are pretty much always open, lol! And sure, I hope this suffices!

𖤐ˎˊ˗Masterlist

▪︎Kokushibō exhibits a reserved demeanour when sharing a bed, yet at the same time he possesses an unexpectedly gentle side towards you. 

▪︎Although your husband is not the one who needs any sleep at night, being a demon, at times he does like to accompany you in bed. Among his long years in life, he finds your presence to be deeply comforting, and he wishes to provide you that same sense of comfort.

Kokushibō, laying on his back would have his arm gently encircling you, all six of his eyes are shut as if he’s meditating to find peace, ensuring you feel secure and are enveloped safely in his warmth. 

Kokushibō, being the most powerful breathing user/swordsman just below Yoriichi, would have incredible control of every aspect of his body—

▪︎When you began to feel chilly; Kokushibō could easily elevate his body temperature to provide warmth and when necessary, he would lower it to prevent you from becoming overheated. 

▪︎If the moment became overly affectionate, your husband would hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, gently toying with your hair using one hand. 

Kokushibō would find being enveloped by your significantly daintier arms and your softness particularly pleasant; in comparison to his constant exposure to the harshness of these lands, marked by death and bloodshed.

▪︎However, Kokushibō's aura is anything but soothing, unlike his brother—he radiates an intense power that specifically hinders the body to relax, which would make it challenging for you to unwind and drift off to sleep in his presence. 

▪︎Kokushibō would, nevertheless, make an effort to provide comfort in his own understated manner, encouraging you to take deep breaths and to focus on his voice instead. He would share many tales and stories with you, drawing from his vast age and experience. 

▪︎Although, if his presence proves too disruptive for your sleep, he would willingly step away to give you space. 

▪︎Kokushibō, given that he can literally release huge energy in the form of blades from his body—he would be killing off some roaches lying around in your house. Saving you from the pest control expanses—pew pew!  

[Given his overwhelming aura, I'm sure many roaches and rats would even end up running away from your home, lol]

▪︎Kokushibō would be your ultimate pest control hero!

▪︎In case you got a nightmare, Kokushibō would immediately sense it, especially given that he'd be awake the whole night.  

▪︎To soothe you, he would softly stroke your back, providing comfort to alleviate the distress from your troubling dreams. If things got too serious, though, he would promptly nudge you awake from sleep.

▪︎In a calm tone, Kokushibō would assure you that there was nothing to be afraid of. He would invite you to meditate alongside him, focusing on deep breaths to clear your mind of all worries. Deep down, however, he was concerned whether his presence might be the source of your nightmares. 

▪︎Nevertheless, Kokushibō would keep an eye on your brain activity; as soon as you fell asleep, he would quietly exit to ensure you could rest peacefully; not wanting his presence to distress you further.

[caramara3]

sneaky peek...

Just a quick lil sneaky peek of what's going on over here....

Chapter 1

(sorry it's taking so long, life's been hectic lately...)

Seconds began to feel like hours passing by as the two of you stood silent in front of each other. You tried avoiding his gaze but to no avail. You’d never been shy about being naked a day in your life, not even as a kid. You were blessed with good genes along with a lean curvy figure that you absolutely loved; you loved your skin, you loved your curves… every freckle, flaw, and slight imperfection you wore as a badge of honor. You had no qualms about showing off the body you busted your ass to maintain as often as you wanted, in as little as you wanted.

But there was something about the way Damian was looking at you right now, like a hungry dog staring down a thick ribeye slab, that made all of that confident bad bitch motif you possessed leave your body and make you want to hide under as many layers as you could. There was a level of tense restraint etched into his face that radiated throughout his body, like he was trying to hold himself together in the moment. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s on the verge of saying something, but says nothing, rather catching his bottom lip between his teeth. There’s a faint tightness in his jaw while his chest rises and falls with a deep breath as if to steady himself. His hands rest at his sides, fingers flexing now and then, like he wants to reach out and touch out but stops himself at the last minute. It was almost like he was trying to decide whether he should look away out of his respect for you or toss you back on the bed and recreate the memories of last night neither of you seemed to remember.

Then there were his eyes; those onyx, almost black orbs that held nearly eight years worth of shared memories and treasured secrets between the two of you. His gaze wavered between warmth and intense, with this flicker of raw unguarded desire hidden behind them. 

You felt the heat rising swiftly to your face as your mind raced with thousand of questions: 

What was he seeing?

Did your thighs look too big? Could he see your stretch marks? Did you forget to shave down there?

Oh God please don’t tell me he’s looking at the scar, please don’t tell me he’s looking at the scar…

It was becoming too much for you. You begin to shift your weight from one foot to the other while your hands fidget restlessly. You drop your gaze from his, shifting your focus to the random watercolor painting hanging above the bed. In an instant, the energy in the room shifts and the trance Damian was seemingly under breaks and the realization sets in. 

Embarrassment washed over him as you saw the heat rise to his cheeks. His eyes dropped to the floor with a quickness followed by his face.

if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or anything else that may come your way, please let me know!

Tag List:

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[skyloftian-nutcase]

Fluffvember Day 15 - In the Firelight

Twilight was cold.

A land that bathed in shadow naturally didn't have the same warmth to it as the land of Light. But the coolness of it was crisp and pleasant, refreshing and soothing.

Midna was used to the cold of Twilight. But this chill was far different, and even she shivered a little when she wasn't hiding in the shadows.

So she wasn't surprised when, halfway through traversing the manor those beast people lived in, Link finally succumbed to something. They'd been traipsing around in this forsaken frozen wasteland for at least a week, between tracking down the mirror share and then exploring the mansion. They'd been here for half a day and had already been misled what felt like a dozen times, leaving Midna growing progressively more frustrated despite her effort to just stay at a level of exasperation instead of outright anger.

The Yeti woman was sick. Midna tried to be patient. But the more they moved, the more she'd noticed that Link too was sniffling and shivering, that with each blow from an ice monster he slowed down even more.

When he couldn't swing the ball and chain that he'd collected, Midna had finally stepped in, forcing him to take a break.

"We'll resume tomorrow," she said evenly, trying to keep the annoyance out of her town. It wasn't his fault. He'd gone out of his way so many times for her. The least she could do was be patient one more day and make sure the idiot didn't get himself killed over a cold.

So here Link sat, curled in on himself by the fire. Midna wished she could go to the next room herself and get the soup that was being made for other sick occupant of the room, but she couldn't. So she watched Link shiver, feeling helpless.

Her frustration grew, and she aimed it at Zant. No one would be suffering if it weren't for him.

"Link," she said softly. "You need to eat. Why don't you have some of that soup? We've gathered half the ingredients, anyway."

She couldn't quite help the sarcasm in her tone, but Link smiled at it, typically finding amusement in her quips. She smiled back, though she wasn't sure he could see it.

Sniffling, Link moved to get up, shuffling sluggishly towards the other room. Yeto was kind, fretting over Link's state and asking if perhaps he had gotten his wife's illness. He insisted he would make soup for him too, offering him a large helping and shooing him back to the other room.

"Aw, they're adopting you," Midna teased with a snicker.

Link raised an eyebrow at her, but whatever reply he had was covered by a heavy cough. Sniffling, he slumped on the ground, sipping at the soup.

"Oh, little human sick, uh?" Yeta asked in her soft, weak voice. "Cold?"

"I'll be fine," Link said shakily with a gentle smile. The sight of it made Midna sigh a little - Link was...

She'd never met a man like him. She'd just say that.

"Eat," she ordered mildly. "You can cheer up everyone else with your chubby cheeks and cute little smile later."

Link flinched, looking at her, blushing. Midna felt her heart rate spike--that--she hadn't--that came out wrong. Thankfully, his reaction seemed less flustered and more embarrassed, as to him she was nothing more than a shadowy imp, but...

She shook her head. She wished she wasn't starting to hold such feelings, but...

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. What mattered was defeating Zant and getting home. The separation between Light and Dark had to be maintained.

The Ordonian Hero sighed, sipping the soup a bit more before just holding it in his hands, shivering.

"Ah, yes, cold," the strange, large woman commented, nodding. "Little human should come here."

"He's already by the fire," Midna said, though she knew she couldn't be heard. It was a little frustrating right now.

Well. It had been frustrating this entire time. She wasn't in the habit of being quiet or ignored. This entire certainly had been humbling.

Link looked like he was going to argue something similar and say he was fine, but Yeta shifted a little in her bundled up state, humming quietly. "Cold, uh? Come here, blankets warm. Fever warm."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Link said, though the way his teeth chattered didn't do him many favors.

Yeta shifted again, coughing as she did so, and Link hastily moved to her to prevent her from straining herself.

"We find key in morning," she said as she shuffled closer to Link, pressing him between herself and some cushions just by the fire.

Midna snickered as Link was practically drowning in the Yeti's quilts and fur, but his shivering at least stopped. He barely got through half his stew before he started falling asleep.

Yeta hummed, watching him a moment, and then looked at his shadow. "Voice sleep too, uh?"

Midna jumped, startled. Did she--?

Shaking her head, she grew quiet, watching Link in the firelight. Honestly, he looked far more comfortable than he had in a while, despite the cold that was running him down. Yeta smiled and closed her eyes.

The Twilight princess had to marvel at the kindness she'd seen on this journey. It...

Her people were not cruel. But being in her position, she wasn't entirely used to seeing people at their best. This had...

If she could take anything from this disaster and adventure, it was that people could be kind. And Link was the prime example.

Midna sighed, heart warm, and disappeared into the shadows.

[strawberriesoup]

you are my sunshine٠࣪⭑

── .✦ awakened by a nightmare, you seek Jisung for comfort.

word count: .7k

genre: angst/fluff, jisung x female reader, established relationship, comfort

warnings: nightmares, jisung is a green flag, lots of comfort and fluff

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Wake up. Wake up.

A cold sweat trickles down your back as you jolt upright in bed, breath coming in gasps. What time is it? You rub your chilled arms, striving both to draw some warmth back into them and to persuade your unwilling mind to blip back into reality as the ghost of the nightmare threatens to breach the delicate wall at the back of your mind.

Your eyes, unfocused and groggy due to being prematurely yanked from your slumber, search the room for your clock. 3:30. What a ripe time to be up.

You’re safe. It wasn’t real. You’re okay. But no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, the roaring blood in your ears and the bitter taste of adrenaline in your jaw beg to differ.

Uncomfortable and sweaty, you untangle yourself from the snare of blankets and sheets and head to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of hot cocoa will bring you back to a good headspace.

Nightmares are a common reoccurrence for you. Of course, that doesn’t make it any easier when they do happen though. Every night, you settle down in fear of the horrors you might face. The horrors that only feel more real each time.

Rubbing the crust from your eyes, you squint as you emerge into the bright kitchen. You could have sworn you turned the lights off before going to bed. Maybe Jisung is up. You hope he is. It would be really great to hear his voice right now.

Mission hot cocoa abandoned, you peek into the darkened living room, expecting to see Jisung scrolling on his phone or scribbling down lyrics on some spare paper.

To your delight, you find Jisung sat on the couch, lamp on, illuminating his form in the darkness of the room. By the gentle sound of his snores paired with his awkward position on the couch, you can tell he’s fallen asleep. He looks so peaceful like this, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. a pillow is fit snugly in his lap, and his socked feet are tucked up on the couch.

Waking him up feels like a crime. He finds solace in sleeping, letting dreams sweep him up and take him far away from the stress and worries of life.

Well, You’re willing to be a felon.

Kneeling on the couch next to him, you rub his shoulder gently, slowly coaxing him to consciousness. With a sudden intake of breath, he awakes, blinking groggily at you.

“Mmf… g’morning…” His words slur together as he squints at you, managing a small smile.

“It’s not morning yet, Ji,” You brush the hair from his face, “Can I sleep here with you?”

You don’t mention anything about the nightmare, chickening out at the last second. It feels silly to disturb him just because you had a bad dream.

Instead of answering, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest. Snuggling into him, you let out a wavering, pent in sigh. You’re safe.

“You’re shaking.” Jisung rubs his hand up and down your arm, gazing down at you with brows furrowed in concern.

“I- yeah. I can’t really sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

You nod, turning to bury your face in the warm folds of his hoodie. Cradled in his lap like this, it feels as if nothing can hurt you.

Jisung smoothes his hand rhythmically over your back, soothing you. He doesn’t say anything else, just holds you tight and steady until the trembles leave your body.

Eventually, his hand stills. He probably fell back asleep. You wish you could do the same, but your mind is running this way and that, trying to keep the dark memories at bay. Jisung’s presence helps exponentially, but your body is still unwilling to succumb to the grips of sleep.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

Jisung’s soft voice penetrates the silence, quiet and husky from sleep.

You make me happy, when skies are grey

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

It’s embarrassing to admit, but this song always put you right to sleep as a kid, and the same is true now. Your breathing steadies out underneath the blanket of his mellow voice, your mind finally drifting into the realms of unconsciousness.

Please don’t take my sunshine away

[morkleesgirl]

Butterfly Kisses l.jn

idol!Jeno x choreographer!reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ends in a tiny bit of smut (body worship and pussy eating)

Word Count: 639 Words

A/N: I'm so so so sorry for how long I've been gone, but school has been absolutely killing my time lately. but I've written all day today and am hoping to write some more in the next couple days!! Please please please request, they are open, and I would love some inspiration to write more of what you all want to see!

But, without further ado, please take some Jeno fluffy smut(ish) as my apology

Warmth surrounded you, allowing a comforting haze to wrap around you. The bed feels so warm with his arms wrapped around my waist. Jeno, he's home, he’s actually home. He finally has a couple days off before promotions for the new album go into full swing. He wanted to take you somewhere today, but with how little time the two of you have had, there was nothing that could have pulled you out of his warm embrace. The only thing on your mind was staying as close to Jeno as you could remain. I hope he isn't going to get upset about not going out, you thought, but before you got the chance to think too hard about it two arms tightened around you, pulling you closer to his broad, bare chest. Next you felt his soft lips leaving butterfly kisses up and down your neck "good morning beautiful" he whispered as he kissed that spot right below your earlobe "are you ready for today?" "Baby can we stay here, stay close to each other? I just wanna lay here with you, I’ve missed you so much." That was half true, you did want to soak in all the time you should being close to Jeno today, but you also had been working a lot more often lately, 10 hour days had become your new normal without anyone to remind you to take care of yourself. The kisses halted as his hands slid up to your sides, his hands holding your waist, which was much smaller than the last time he had held you like this. "Beautiful have you been eating enough lately?" Damn, the last thing you wanted was to talk about yourself today, especially because of how upset it makes Jeno when he thinks your not taking good care of yourself. "I'm fine Jen, just been working a lot" you feel him sigh against your neck, "Baby I wish you would take better care of yourself.” He whispers softly against your shoulder, as he shifts you to lay on your back beneath him. “I wish you would realize that you're my everything, that you’re the most important think in the world to me." "Baby it's fine, I just had a really big project, and I was able to lose some weight while working hard on the choreography I was making" you tried to explain, trying to push the attention onto your work and not how poorly you’d been taking care of yourself. "Lose some weight?” he scoffed, looking lovingly into your eyes “baby you're beautiful, and you're perfect how you are." There was silence as he slowly moved to capture your lips in his. "Look in my eyes beautiful," he said softly, placing one of his hands on your cheek, as the other rubbed soothing circles into your bare hipbone. "I'm going to remind you just how perfect you are" he whispered kissing your lips softly before moving to trail more kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. He kept his eyes full of love locked with yours as he moved down your body leaving marks occasionally. Nipping at the skin of your thighs before pressing them open. “I love you” he whispered before kissing your inner thigh, working closer and closer to the place you needed him most. “You’re so perfect, so so good to me” he continues as he finally locks eyes with you once again as he finally kisses your clit, and begins to eat you out like a starved man. Determined to make you feel as good as you make him feel. Determined to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you could do nothing but whine out his name. Determined to take care of you, and he did, leaving butterfly kisses all over your thighs until you were in ecstasy. 

[heartsandstars46]

Just a fluffy lil bf tasm!Peter x fem reader blurb! Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Weighted blanket?

You were half-asleep, wrapped in Peter’s arms, when you could feel him slowly and carefully trying to slip away from you.

“No,” you mumbled drowsily. “You have to leave now?”

He leaned over and kissed you. “Not because I want to.”

“Yeah, yeah, great responsibility and all that crap.”

You could hear him chuckling in the dark as he got dressed. As you became more lucid, that familiar fear started whirring in your chest. It was infinitely easier to sleep when you knew he was safely tucked in next to you. Your fears were getting worse, each time it took him longer to come back, and each time he came back with more cuts and bruises….

You could feel your breathing turning ragged and panicked.

“Hey, hey.” Peter brought his forehead to yours, and his brown eyes glistened in the moonlight. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can. Where’s your weighted blanket?”

“I don’t know. Probably at my place.”

He was studying you carefully. “Do you want to try what we did last time?”

You were already feeling around for the scissors on the nightstand. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Okay. Lie back.”

You did as you were told, and Peter began to craft a web that pressed your body firmly but gently to the bed. You kept one hand outside of the cocoon, able to reach the scissors if need be. That was your agreement; he would only leave you like this if he knew you could set yourself free, should you change your mind.

“I feel like I’m wrapping a present,” he chuckled. “Can I unwrap it when I get home?”

“You better.”

He hovered above your face so you were able to kiss him.

“Is it too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect. Well, no, not compared to you, but it’s good enough.”

The two of you kissed again… and again…

“Okay, okay! Ah! The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I get back.”

“I love you,” you said, wishing the words could also convey some sort of protection.

“I love you too, sweetie.” And then he was gone, out the window, Peter no more, your boyfriend no more. Now he was everyone’s. The entire city’s Amazing Spider-Man. Which was fine—except that you knew Peter Parker to be even more amazing. And you liked when he was yours and yours alone.

Tucked into the gentle pressure of the web he had made you, you tried to put fear out of your mind and eventually dozed off.

Peter might have been the one with heightened senses, but you were a light sleeper and could hear him slip through the window as the sun came up. He seemed to be okay, though he was moving slowly, probably in pain, and you could see bruises forming on his face.

“Hey.” You reached out your free hand toward him. He smiled as he stripped off his Spider-Man garb. “I would ask if you’re hurt, but you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

He chuckled softly, kneeling on the bed. “I hope you got some sleep,” he said as he carefully began pulling apart the web that enveloped your body.

“Some.” As soon as you were able, you sat up and hugged him tightly, hoping not to make any pain worse. You sat nestled like that for a few moments, your head on his shoulder, your hearts practically beating against each other’s.

“Okay.” With a sigh, you let him go. “Now you need your sleep. Come on, lie down and roll over. No, the other way.”

He laughed. “Um, how am I supposed to hold you if I have my back to you?”

You lay down beside him, pressed against his back, and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re not,” you murmured, kissing the back of his neck where a bruise was beginning to purple. “I get to hold you now.”

He took one of your hands and kissed it before bringing it onto his chest. What a relief it was to feel his heartbeat and lean into his warmth.

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[mssalo]

worship

Ignored and humiliated by your husband, you find yourself in Joel's arms-his best friend who's been silently craving you for far too long. One heated night pushes you both over the edge, and Joel isn't holding back. He's ready to give you what your husband never could: everything.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cheating, body worship, your husband treating you bad, Joel treating you good, oral (f receiving), kissing, (P in V), pinning, cumming Inside, breeding kink, Joel gets nasty with it, 10k

Part: 2

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The late afternoon sunlight filtered gently through the lace curtains, casting soft patterns across the dining table where you sat with Sarah, helping her with her homework. Your smile, though kind, felt heavy today. You leaned over the table, explaining a math problem to her with patience, even though your mind was clouded with thoughts of your husband.

It had been weeks—maybe months—since he’d been fully present. You had long suspected something was off, but now it was undeniable. He came home late, if at all, and when he did, his eyes never seemed to meet yours. You’d catch glimpses of texts on his phone, messages you weren’t supposed to see. You weren’t stupid. You knew.

But you’d spent so long being the perfect wife, the one who never caused trouble. He’d always introduced you as his “trophy,” an arm to show off at events, beautiful and polished. It was the role you’d filled for years, playing the part he wanted you to play. Smile, be perfect, don’t question. And you had been doing just that for far too long, even though inside you were crumbling.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face and forced a warm smile as Sarah struggled with her fractions.

You adored Joel’s daughter. She was smart, sweet, and had a lightness about her that made your heart ache with a longing for the family you never had. Sarah was only fourteen, but she had a way of reading people that made you think she saw right through you.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” you encouraged her softly. “Just think of the numerator as the number on top and the denominator as the number on the bottom.”

Sarah gave you a soft smile, but it was clear she wasn’t fully focused. Her big, brown eyes studied you carefully, picking up on the sadness that lingered just beneath the surface of your cheerful demeanor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice hesitant but filled with concern. “You seem… off today.”

Your heart sank a little at the realization that she noticed. You were supposed to be the adult here, the one keeping it all together, but it was getting harder to hide the cracks. You blinked back the tears threatening to well up, reaching over to give Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m okay, baby,” you whispered softly, trying to steady your voice. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah looked at you for a moment longer, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t quite believe you, but she didn’t push it. She was too kind for that, too sweet. You wished your own husband had even a fraction of the empathy this girl had. Instead, he barely acknowledged your presence anymore, leaving you to feel like a ghost in your own home.

After Sarah finished her homework, you walked her to the door, sending her off with her usual hug. She hugged you back tightly, sensing more than you were letting on, but when you said goodbye, you assured her again that you were fine. She gave you one last concerned look before heading home.

After Sarah left, the silence in the house became overwhelming, filling every corner with the weight of your thoughts.

You leaned against the door for a moment, closing your eyes, fighting the urge to let the tears spill over. It was getting harder to keep up the facade. The loneliness, the sense of being unseen in your own marriage—it was suffocating.

You’d done everything you could to save the relationship, to bring back the warmth that had once existed between you and your husband, but there was nothing left.

With a deep breath, you pushed away from the door and headed to the kitchen, trying to busy yourself with anything that could distract you from the ache in your chest. But the sound of a knock at the door startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you opened it, Joel stood on your porch, concern etched into his rugged features. His broad shoulders seemed even larger framed by the doorway, his familiar Texas drawl cutting through the silence as he spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle but serious. “Sarah told me you weren’t doing too good today. Figured I’d come by and check on you.”

You blinked, surprised but not unwelcome to see him standing there. It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts, your heart catching in your throat at the sight of him. Joel had always been kind to you, always present in a way your husband wasn’t. He was a steady, comforting presence in your life, one you had grown to rely on more than you ever intended.

“I—I’m fine,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to worry her. It’s just been a long day.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t hesitate to step inside, closing the door behind him. He looked down at you with those dark, thoughtful eyes of his, reading you in ways you wished your husband still could. His gaze softened, but he didn’t buy your answer for a second.

“You don’t gotta put up a front with me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I can tell somethin’s been bothering you.”

It was those words—the way he said them with such understanding, such care—that made something in you break. You couldn’t hold it together any longer, not with Joel standing there, offering the kind of concern and kindness you hadn’t felt in so long. The tears you had been holding back began to well up again, this time falling before you could stop them.

Joel stepped forward, his hands settling gently on your arms.

“Hey, hey now… don’t cry,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His words, so simple yet so full of warmth, only made the tears come faster. You wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed that you were falling apart like this in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just… everything feels so wrong.”

Joel’s grip tightened slightly, a gesture of reassurance. He guided you over to the couch, sitting beside you as you tried to compose yourself. You leaned into him instinctively, finding comfort in the solid presence of his body next to yours. Joel had always had this way of making you feel safe, like you could let your guard down without fear of judgment.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, his hand still resting on your arm, warm and steady.

You hesitated, the words heavy in your throat. You’d kept it all inside for so long, afraid to say it out loud, afraid that acknowledging it would make it all too real. But sitting there, with Joel looking at you like he genuinely cared, it all came tumbling out.

“He doesn’t care anymore, Joel,” you murmured, the words spilling from your lips, weighed down by the months of heartache you had been carrying. “It’s like I’m invisible to him. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even look at me… and I know he’s seeing someone else.”

The effect on Joel was immediate. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to contain the anger that flared up inside him.

His eyes darkened, filling with a storm of emotions—disbelief, frustration, and something protective, primal. His hand, which had been resting gently on your arm, tightened its grip slightly, grounding you as he processed your words.

He stared at you for a long moment, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could treat you that way.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Joel muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice low and rough. “How could he—how could anyone—do that to you? To you of all people?”

He shook his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His voice softened, but the rough edges of his anger were still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“You deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who sees you, who knows just how lucky they are to have you.”

Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, urgent murmur as he continued.

“You’re kind, thoughtful… hell, you’re always puttin’ everyone else first. The way you care for Sarah like she’s your own, the way you keep your home so warm and welcoming, the way you’ve always been there for him… you’re so damn good, and he doesn’t even see it.” He shook his head again, the disbelief etched deep in his furrowed brow.

“How could he not see that? How could he throw that away?”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, filled with a mixture of admiration and frustration.

“It breaks my heart to see you treated like this. You deserve someone who cherishes you, who shows up for you, every day… who loves you for exactly who you are.”

His words hit you like a wave, each one wrapped in the raw sincerity and care that had always been so natural for Joel. You could see the anger and confusion in his eyes—he truly couldn’t understand how anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary.

You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that it was enough to be the perfect wife, to keep playing the role you had been assigned, but Joel’s kindness made you question all of it. His care, his attention—it was what you had been craving for so long, and now, here he was, offering it to you without asking for anything in return.

“But I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the weight of everything settled heavily on your shoulders. “I’ve tried so hard to make it work, to be what he wants, but nothing’s enough.”

Joel’s hand lifted to your face, gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his palm grounded you, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the tenderness in his touch. He guided your face to meet his eyes, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You don’t need to be what he wants,” Joel said, his voice low, almost a growl, roughened by emotion.

“You deserve to be seen, to be loved for who you are. Not just for what you can give someone else.”

His words hung in the air between you, wrapping around your heart, pulling at the deepest parts of you that had felt so neglected, so starved for this very thing—connection.

The space between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken emotions that had been simmering for far too long. It was as though every unexpressed feeling, every suppressed desire had built up into a moment that neither of you could stop.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the ache of loneliness and longing that had been gnawing at you for months. Joel had always been there, quietly, steadily, offering you the care your husband never could.

And now, sitting so close to him, his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, the pull between you was undeniable.

“Joel…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze flickering between his deep brown eyes and his lips, so close, so tempting.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His touch was tender, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper—something that had been quietly building between you for longer than either of you cared to admit.

“I’ll take care of you,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with the promise of protection, of something more. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

Your heart raced, torn between the vulnerability of the moment and the undeniable comfort of his words.

The way he spoke, the way he looked at you—it was everything you had been craving for so long. The tenderness you had missed, the feeling of being truly seen, appreciated, cared for. It was overwhelming. And yet…

Before you could fully process what was happening, Joel leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing grounding you being the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his hand still cradling your face.

The kiss was gentle at first, full of the tenderness and care you had longed for, but there was something else beneath it, something more intense, more primal, as if he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if needing something to hold on to, something solid in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

His kiss deepened slightly, his other hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It felt like everything you had wanted—someone who saw you, who cared for you, who wanted you.

But just as quickly as the warmth of the kiss had filled you, the weight of guilt crashed down like a tidal wave. You broke away, pulling back suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, breath coming in short gasps. You shook your head, stepping out of his reach, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, but your mind already spinning.

“I—” you stammered, the words barely forming as you backed away, your hands trembling. “I can’t… I’m sorry, Joel, I just… I can’t do this.”

The look on Joel’s face was one of hurt and confusion, but also understanding. He stood there, his arms falling to his sides as he watched you retreat.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle, though the rough edge of his emotion was still there. “You don’t need to apologize.”

You took another step back, trying to steady yourself, your heart in your throat. “It’s not right,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you tried to rationalize everything that had just happened. “I can’t… I’m still married, and this… this is wrong.”

Joel didn’t argue. He didn’t push. He just watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and a quiet sorrow.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words hit you hard, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t face the reality of what had just happened, of what you had almost allowed yourself to feel. The guilt was too much, too overwhelming. You turned away, your hands still trembling as you moved toward the stairs, needing distance, needing space to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible as you left Joel standing alone in the living room. You hurried upstairs, your heart heavy, your mind racing, every step a reminder of the pull between you and Joel that you had just tried so desperately to resist.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused, your hand gripping the banister as you tried to steady your breath. You could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, the safety of his arms around you, and it terrified you.

Because for the first time in so long, you had felt something real, something you wanted. And yet, the weight of everything else—your marriage, your vows, the guilt—it was too much to bear.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel Joel’s presence downstairs, lingering in the quiet of the house. His words echoed in your mind, and despite everything, you knew deep down that what he had said was true: you deserved more. But admitting that meant facing the truth about everything you had been avoiding for so long.

And you weren’t ready for that.

· · ─────

The days following the kiss were thick with awkwardness and tension that hung between you and Joel like a fog neither of you knew how to clear. Every time you thought about it—his lips on yours, the tenderness in his touch, the way he had made you feel seen and wanted—your stomach twisted with guilt. But there was another feeling too, one that gnawed at you in the quiet moments when you were alone: longing. That kiss had stirred something deep inside you, something that had been buried for far too long, and now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You longed for that feeling again—the safety, the warmth, the tenderness that had been absent from your life for so long. It made the distance between you and your husband feel even wider, the coldness in your marriage more unbearable. But despite how much you tried to shake it, that kiss was constantly on your mind.

Then came the day Joel came over to watch the football game with your husband. You knew it was coming—your husband had mentioned it in passing—but you weren’t prepared to see Joel again. The thought of being in the same room as him after what had happened made your heart race and your palms sweat.

When Joel arrived, you could hear his familiar knock on the door, followed by your husband’s slurred greeting. He had already been drinking, you noticed. You had hoped he would keep it under control, but knowing him, that was never a safe bet.

You opened the door and found Joel standing there, looking as calm and collected as ever. But the moment his eyes met yours, a wave of heat rushed to your face, your heart skipping in your chest. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it was impossible to ignore the way the memory of that kiss flooded your senses all at once.

He shifted slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as if he was just as unsure of how to handle the tension between you. His gaze flickered over your face for just a second longer than it should have, his eyes darkening with something unspoken before he quickly looked away.

You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks growing warmer by the second. You cleared your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to greet him without giving anything away.

“H-hi, Joel,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look at him, even though your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of your shirt, desperate to find something—anything—to do with your hands.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours briefly, and you could see the hesitation there, the same uncertainty you were feeling. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his voice coming out low and gruff, but with a warmth that only made you blush harder.

“hello there,” he said, his tone casual, but the way his eyes softened when he looked at you made your stomach flip.

The awkwardness was palpable, like neither of you knew exactly what to say. You wanted to hide from the intensity of the moment, to avoid the feelings that had been swirling between you since that kiss. Your gaze darted down to your feet, your fingers still twisting the fabric of your shirt nervously.

Your husband’s voice suddenly bellowed from the living room, a loud demand for more beer, pulling both of you out of the charged moment. Joel winced slightly, his brow furrowing in mild annoyance at the sound, but you just gave a small, flustered nod.

“Uh, I’ll get that for him,” you mumbled quickly, stepping aside to let Joel in, your skin tingling with the awareness of how close he was as he brushed past you.

As Joel entered, you couldn’t help but glance at him one last time, your heart racing again when you saw the way his eyes lingered on you for a brief second before he turned toward the living room, where your husband was already half-immersed in the game.

“Thanks,” Joel murmured softly, his voice still gruff but gentle as he moved to sit beside your husband.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You knew tonight was going to be hard—being in the same room as Joel, pretending that nothing had changed. But the way your heart leapt every time you caught his eye made it clear that things were far from normal between you.

The night dragged on painfully, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Your husband’s drinking had started early, his excitement for the game quickly turning into something darker, something meaner as the alcohol took hold. It wasn’t unusual for him to drink during football, but tonight, it seemed worse than usual. Each beer drained away whatever patience he had left, and you could feel his mood souring with every sip.

“Get me another one,” he grunted, not bothering to look at you as he pointed at the empty bottle on the coffee table.

You moved quickly, not wanting to cause a scene, especially not with Joel sitting there. The last thing you needed was for Joel to witness the full extent of your husband’s irritability. But as you handed him the beer, your husband’s gaze flickered up to you, and his expression turned sour.

“Can’t you just do one damn thing right?” he muttered, snatching the bottle from your hand. His words were slurred but sharp, laced with frustration as if your mere presence irritated him.

Your cheeks flushed with humiliation, the familiar sting of his words settling deep inside you. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you from across the room, but you didn’t dare look at him. The embarrassment was too much. All you wanted was to get through the night, to make it out of this room with what little dignity you had left.

But it only got worse. As the game continued, your husband’s tone grew harsher, his demands more insistent.

“Get me some more chips,” he barked, barely glancing at you. You quickly obliged, fetching the bowl from the kitchen, trying to keep your hands steady as you placed it on the table in front of him.

Joel, always polite, nodded in your direction. “Thanks,” he said softly, his voice warm and sincere. The contrast between Joel’s quiet gratitude and your husband’s increasing belligerence was jarring, and it only made the ache in your chest worse.

As you turned to walk back to the kitchen, you felt it—your husband’s hand coming down hard on your ass, the slap echoing through the room. You froze in place, your entire body going rigid as the sting of his hand sent a wave of humiliation crashing over you.

“Good girl,” he slurred, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re real good at one thing at least, huh?”

The room felt like it was spinning, your face burning with shame. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, to even breathe for a moment. Joel was right there. He had seen it all.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the humiliation overwhelming, crushing. You had endured so much already—his cruelty, his indifference—but this? In front of Joel?

You couldn’t stay in the room any longer. Without a word, you turned and walked quickly toward the stairs, your vision blurring as the tears threatened to spill. You could hear your husband muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get away.

As you reached the bathroom, you closed the door behind you and leaned against the sink, gripping the edges tightly as the tears finally came. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to hold it together, but it was no use. The humiliation, the shame—it was all too much.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection blurred by the tears that streamed down your face.

What had happened to you? How had things gotten this bad?

You had spent years trying to hold onto the marriage, trying to make things work, but now it felt like you were nothing more than an afterthought, a servant in your own home. The sting of his hand, the cruel way he had dismissed you—it was unbearable.

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there when you heard a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey… it’s me,” Joel’s voice came from the other side, low and cautious, full of concern.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You weren’t sure if you could face him, not after what had just happened. Not after he had seen the way your husband had treated you. But Joel wasn’t like your husband. He had always been kind, always understanding. He had seen you—truly seen you—when no one else had.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, wiping at your tear-streaked face as you tried to compose yourself. Then, slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to let him in.

Joel stepped inside, his presence filling the small space, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His eyes softened when he saw your tear-streaked face, his brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for things to get like that.”

You shook your head quickly, wiping at your eyes again. “It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “It’s just… this is how it is. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Joel’s expression darkened slightly, but not with anger—just with sadness, frustration at the situation. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a tear from your cheek, his touch so different from the harshness you had just experienced. His fingers were warm, careful, like he was afraid to push you any further than you were ready for.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words broke something inside you, and you felt your lip tremble as another sob escaped. You had been holding it in for so long—holding everything in, trying to be strong, trying to make it work. But now, standing here with Joel, it all came crashing down.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I feel so trapped.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, full of understanding. And then, quietly, he spoke again.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. Whatever you need… I’m here.”

The warmth in his words, the tenderness in his touch—it was more than you had felt in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt seen, felt valued. It stirred something deep inside you, something desperate and raw, a need that had been pushed down for so long.

Before you could even think about it, you lunged toward him, closing the small distance between you and crashing your lips into his. It wasn’t delicate or hesitant—it was a kiss born out of longing, out of months, maybe even years, of being unseen, unheard.

Your hands fisted into his shirt, pulling him closer as your body pressed against his, needing more, needing all of him.

Joel responded immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with a fierceness that matched your own. There was no hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours, no doubt in the way he held you tight.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his mouth hungry, demanding.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire, igniting every nerve in your body. His kiss was rough, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own, like he had been holding back for too long and finally, finally, he could let go. The tension between you, all the unspoken words, all the stolen glances—it was exploding now in this moment, and neither of you could stop it.

Your heart raced as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him under your fingertips. The years of loneliness, of being ignored, melted away with every touch, every kiss. Joel’s hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as if he was afraid to let go.

He pulled back just slightly, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick with emotion, his lips still brushing against yours. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You couldn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you pulled him back into the kiss, your lips crashing together again, more desperate, more urgent. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he backed you up against the bathroom wall, pinning you there as he kissed you harder, deeper.

There was no space left between you, no room for doubt or hesitation. Your body responded to his in ways you hadn’t felt in years, every nerve alight with the intensity of it. His hands slid down your sides, rough and possessive, holding you tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel the heat rising between you, the desperation building, as if all the longing, all the frustration had finally found an outlet. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, each touch making your breath hitch, your body arch into his.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice breathless, barely able to get the words out.

But he already knew. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was even more intense, more consuming than before. You were lost in him, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. Everything else—the hurt, the humiliation, the loneliness—faded away until there was only this moment, only Joel.

This was what you had been missing. This was what you had been longing for. And for the first time in so long, you felt alive.

Joel’s breath was hot against your skin as his lips moved along the curve of your neck, each kiss searing into you, grounding you in this moment, in him. His hands gripped you firmly, possessive yet tender, his touch a reassurance that you were more than what you had been made to feel for so long.

“God, you have no idea,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with need. “You’re everythin’. You deserve so much more than what he gives you. So much more.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity in his tone, the sincerity. You could feel the heat between you building, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, kissing along your collarbone, your chest. You were lost in the sensation, the way his hands moved over you, the way his breath ghosted over your skin.

Joel's kisses became more urgent, more fervent, as he slowly knelt before you, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with an expression that was both filled with desire and a silent question—a request for permission, for trust.

“Let me worship you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his hands steady as he began to ease your pants down, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent sparks through you. “I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want you to feel everything.”

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity as he pulled your pants away, his eyes dark with want as he drank in the sight of you.

Joel stood, lifting you effortlessly in his arms, turning and pressing you gently but firmly against the wall. The coolness of the tile was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off of him, his body holding yours securely, every inch of your weight supported by his strength.

“You’re everythin’,” he murmured again, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss before trailing down your neck. “You deserve the world. And I’m gonna it to you.”

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you slightly, his hands gripping your thighs as he held you against the wall. His mouth moved lower, his lips, his tongue, trailing over your stomach, your hips, until he was kneeling before you again, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The sensation of his breath against your skin made your head spin, the anticipation building as his kisses grew slower, more deliberate, inching closer and closer to the center of your need. Every kiss, every touch felt like a promise—a promise that you were cherished, that you were seen.

Joel’s lips trembled against your skin as he kissed down your stomach, rough and hungry, his hands gripping your hips tightly as though he was afraid to let go.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and his breath came out hot against your bare thighs as he spread you open for him, his tongue flicking out to tease the edges of your soaked entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "I've been waitin’ for this, waitin’ to taste this sweet pussy. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it—about you."

You gasped as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue flat and wide as he dragged it through your folds, groaning like he was savoring every drop.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly as your legs trembled, and he groaned again, the vibration making you whimper.

"God, you're perfect," Joel mumbled against you, his voice muffled as he licked you with long, languid strokes. "This cunt is all mine tonight, yeah? You feel that? You hear that? This pussy's mine."

He sucked noisily, deliberately making sure every stroke of his tongue was loud, wet, and filthy. You could hear the lewd slurping sounds as he devoured you, his mouth greedy and desperate as if he’d been starving for this moment.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps, your whole body burning under his relentless attention.

“What if he hears?” you whispered, your voice shaky as your head fell back against the wall. “Joel… what if—”

“He won’t hear shit,” Joel cut you off, his voice rough with possessiveness. “That asshole’s passed out cold on the couch. Even if he could hear, I wouldn’t stop. He doesn’t deserve you. But I do.”

His tongue plunged into you, fucking you with wet, deep strokes, his nose brushing against your swollen clit as he grunted against you. “This pussy tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby. All I want is to hear you moan for me. Let him fuckin’ hear it.”

You couldn’t help but whimper, your hips bucking against his face as he growled, his tongue thrusting deeper, his lips and chin coated with your arousal. He pulled back for just a second, his breath heavy, his eyes wild as he looked up at you.

"Fuck, I could eat this pussy all night," he murmured, his voice almost a snarl as he gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you even closer. "I want to make you come on my tongue over and over, until you can't stand. You deserve to be worshipped like this. I’m not stoppin’ until you scream my name."

With that, he dove back in, his tongue swirling over your clit as he sucked you harder, his mouth relentless. You moaned louder, your fingers tugging at his hair as your body arched off the wall, pleasure crashing through you with every filthy stroke of his tongue.

He groaned again, louder this time, savoring every moment as he devoured you, his mouth hot and hungry, like he couldn’t get enough.

He alternated between sucking your clit hard, his lips tight around the sensitive bud, and sliding his tongue deep inside you, fucking your pussy with slow, torturous strokes.

Each time you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard it felt like he was staking a claim.

"Yeah, that’s it," he murmured between licks, his voice raw. "I want to hear you scream for me. Let me hear how much you love it when I eat this sweet little cunt."

Your moans grew louder, filling the bathroom as Joel’s tongue worked you harder, faster, his groans matching your own as he lost himself in the taste of you.

His hands slid up your body, gripping your breasts roughly as he continued to feast on you, the pleasure so intense it was overwhelming. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore—every nerve was on fire, your mind blank as you gave in completely to him.

"Joel, fuck, I’m gonna—" you gasped, your thighs trembling as you teetered on the edge of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he growled, his voice hoarse as his tongue flicked over your clit again, harder, faster, relentless. "Cum on my tongue. I want to taste all of it."

With a final, devastating suck on your clit, you shattered. Pleasure slammed into you, your entire body shaking as you screamed his name, your nails digging into his scalp as he held you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of your orgasm.

Joel didn’t stop—he kept licking, kept sucking, devouring every drop as your body convulsed, the intensity of it making your legs shake.

He moaned against you, his tongue softening slightly but still teasing your swollen clit as you came down, his grip on your hips loosening just enough to let you catch your breath.

When he finally pulled back, his face was slick with your arousal, his eyes dark with lust as he looked up at you, his chest heaving.

"You taste like heaven," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction as he stood, pressing his body against yours again, his lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, feel the raw, aching desire still burning between you, and you knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s what you deserve,” he whispered, his hands roaming over your body, possessive and loving all at once. “And I’m not done worshippin’ you.”

Joel’s hands moved up your body slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second his fingers touched your skin. His breath was still ragged, and his lips were barely an inch from yours as he whispered against them, his voice rough but tender.

“If you were my woman, I’d never let you leave the house without makin’ you cum at least twice,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver through you. “And here he is, treatin’ you like garbage. Doesn’t he see? You’re a goddess.”

He paused, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch gentle but insistent as he slowly pulled it up, over your head, tossing it to the side. His eyes darkened with hunger as he gazed at your bare skin, his breath coming out in a heavy exhale as he traced his fingers along the curve of your waist, up to the clasp of your bra.

“You represent everything good in this world,” Joel continued, his voice deepening as his fingers worked to unhook your bra, his eyes locked on yours. “He should feel so damn lucky to have you. How can he not see what he has?”

Your bra fell away, and his eyes dropped to your breasts, the sight of them making him groan deeply, the sound vibrating in his chest. His hands cupped them reverently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as his lips curled into a smirk.

“These,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “prove my point exactly.”

Without another word, Joel dipped his head, his lips brushing against one of your nipples before he drew it into his mouth, sucking gently at first, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, your back arching as you gasped, your hands instinctively finding his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned again, his hand kneading your other breast as his mouth worked your nipple with expert precision, sucking harder, his tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh with just the right amount of pressure. Every movement of his mouth, every touch of his hands, felt like he was worshipping you, like you were something precious and sacred.

“I swear,” Joel mumbled against your skin, his lips trailing to your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth with the same intensity.

“If you were mine, I’d worship this body every damn day. You deserve to be treated like the goddess you are, not some afterthought.”

His teeth grazed your nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you, making you whimper as he continued to suck and lick, his hands never leaving your body, constantly exploring, worshipping. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his mouth greedy, his hands possessive, but all of it wrapped in the tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his breath hot against your skin as he switched between your breasts, lavishing each one with the same amount of attention. “Every part of you is fuckin’ perfect.”

His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you, his erection hard and insistent through his jeans. The friction only added to the heat between you, the tension building with every kiss, every touch. Joel’s lips moved back up to your neck, his breath ragged as he pressed soft kisses along your jawline, his words spilling out between them.

“I could spend all night tastin’ you, touchin’ you,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with raw emotion. “You deserve to feel this good all the time. I’d make sure you never forgot it.”

Your mind was spinning, your body burning under his touch. Every word he spoke, every movement of his mouth, was like gasoline on a fire, and you were completely consumed by him, by the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, worshipped.

Joel’s hands slid back up to your breasts, kneading them as his lips claimed yours in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body radiating heat, his need for you palpable.

“Tell me,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how much you want this.”

Your breath hitched, your lips parting as his words hung in the air between you. The heat in his eyes, the intensity of his touch—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding.

“I want it so bad, Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need, your body arching into him. “Please… take your clothes off. I need to feel you.”

He groaned at your words, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his erection pressing harder against you.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing yours, “you need to see a real man. Feel a real cock, not just someone who acts like one. I’ll show you the difference.”

With a swift movement, Joel pulled back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the broad, muscular chest that you’d only stolen glances at before. His skin glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing as he moved, and the sight of him made your mouth water. Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as you let out a soft moan of appreciation.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathless as your hands wandered lower, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Joel smirked, his hands already working to unbuckle his jeans, his voice dropping to a rough, dirty whisper. “You want this cock, hm? You’ve been starving for it—starving for a man who knows how to take care of you, who knows how to make you cum like you deserve.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he pushed his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion, his thick, hard cock springing free, already leaking with precum. It was big—thick and long, veins running down the shaft, the head swollen and glistening.

He gave it a slow stroke, his eyes locked on yours, the sight making your thighs clench with anticipation.

“See this?” he growled, tapping his cock against your thigh, making your breath hitch. “This is what you’ve been missin’. And I’m gonna make sure you never forget what a real man feels like.”

You whimpered in response, your hands reaching out to touch him, to wrap your fingers around his length, but he pulled back slightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured, his voice full of filthy promise. “I want you to feel it everywhere first.”

With that, Joel pressed his cock against your stomach, dragging it slowly across your skin, leaving a slick trail of precum in its wake. You moaned, the sensation driving you wild, your body arching into him as you felt the heat of his shaft sliding over your skin.

“Fuck, you look so good with my cock on you,” he groaned, his hand gripping his length as he slid it up between your breasts, over your chest, your neck, and then back down again. “You want this. You want to feel it inside you, stretchin’ you, fillin’ you up.”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice shaking with desperation. “I need it. I need you. I want your cock so bad, I can’t stand it.”

He chuckled darkly, his hand moving to tap the thick head of his cock against your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you cry out.

“You want it here, yeah?” he growled, slapping his cock against your swollen clit again, harder this time, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You want to feel me inside this tight little pussy, fuckin’ you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Oh, God, yes,” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembled with need. “Fuck me, Joel. I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes flashed with pure desire as he tapped his cock against your clit again, the wet head of his cock throbbing as more precum leaked out, mixing with your own arousal.

He dragged his length through your folds, coating himself in your slickness, groaning as he teased you.

“I’m gonna make you scream for me,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll never even think about another man again. You’ll be mine, baby. This pussy will be mine.”

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you ache for him. Every word he spoke, every filthy promise he made, sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your body desperate for the release only he could give.

“Say it,” Joel demanded, his voice rough as he slid just the tip inside you, stretching you ever so slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as you felt him start to push inside you. “I’m yours. Please, fuck me. Make me yours.”

With a deep, guttural groan, Joel thrust into you, his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching into his as he buried himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he held you in place.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you in slow, deliberate strokes. “This pussy is mine now, baby. And I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll forget anyone else ever existed.”

Joel’s thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, but the delicious pressure only intensified the raw need coursing between you. His cock filled you so completely, stretching you to the point where you could barely think straight, only able to feel him.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with lust as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you with a force that made you gasp.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your ragged moans and the wet, lewd sounds of your pussy taking every inch of him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice low and rough as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “This is what you’d get with me all the time. Not that half-assed bullshit you’ve been settlin for. You’d get this—my cock fillin’ you up, my hands on your body, making you cum until you can’t even fuckin stand.”

He punctuated his words with rough, powerful thrusts, his cock driving deeper into you with each one. Your head fell back against the wall, your legs trembling as he held you up, completely at his mercy.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as his hips snapped into you again and again. “You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like this every day. Not treated like you’re worthless.”

Joel’s mouth was everywhere—his lips moving over your neck, nipping at your skin before kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your skin, and you moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he fucked you harder, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with praise and hunger. “My perfect little good girl.”

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower until he found your breasts again, groaning as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin, combined with the relentless pace of his hips, had you gasping, your body on the verge of breaking apart with pleasure.

“Fuck, ’could suck these tits all day,” Joel murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple as he switched to the other breast, sucking and licking, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he fucked you harder.

“So fuckin’ beautiful. You’d get this all the time with me, baby. You’re my good girl, hm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, your nipples aching under his relentless attention. “I’m your good girl. Please, don’t stop.”

Joel growled, a deep, primal sound that sent a shiver down your spine as he kissed his way back up to your mouth, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss.

His tongue invaded your mouth, hungry and demanding, as he continued to pound into you, each thrust harder than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You whimpered beneath him, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you, his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming you, and you could barely form coherent words. All you could do was moan his name, begging for more.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel rasped, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips snapped harder, faster. “You love this, baby? You love havin’ my cock so deep inside you, fuckin’ you the way you deserve. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you need it.”

“I need it,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as your head fell back against the wall, your body trembling with pleasure.

“I need you so bad, Joel. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me harder. I love it. Please, Joel, don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” he growled, his hands sliding up your body, cupping your breasts again as he continued to thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“I’ll never stop. You’ll never go a day without feelin’ this. Without knowing how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

His lips moved across your face, kissing your cheeks, your jaw, before finding your neck again, sucking and biting at your skin as he pounded into you. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed you closer to the brink of release.

His tongue claimed your mouth with the same intensity as his cock claimed your pussy, his hands still worshipping your body as if he couldn’t stop touching you.

“You feel so good,” he growled against your lips, his breath ragged as his hips continued to slam into you.

“This is what I’d do every single day if you were mine. I’d wake you up with my tongue on this perfect pussy, make you cum before breakfast, fuck you until you can’t even think straight.”

You moaned loudly, your body arching into his as his filthy words made your head spin, the pleasure building inside you with every thrust of his cock.

His hand slid down your body, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles as he fucked you, his touch sending sparks through your veins.

“I’m gonna make you cum, babygirl,” Joel whispered, his voice thick with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours. “I want you to cum all over my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as the pleasure mounted, your mind going blank as Joel’s cock slammed into you harder, deeper. His hand on your clit, his mouth on your neck, his body pressed tightly against yours—it was too much, and you felt yourself spiraling toward release.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough as he felt you tighten around him. “Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

With a final, devastating thrust, the coil inside you snapped, and you screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him as he groaned deeply, his hips never stopping, prolonging your pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Joel’s hips slowed, but his thrusts remained deep and deliberate, his cock throbbing inside you, the heat of him radiating against your skin. His breath came in hot, ragged bursts against your neck as his hands roamed possessively over your body, caressing every inch of your trembling form.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hips ground deeper, each thrust making your body arch against him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. My good girl.”

His words sent another jolt of desire through you, your body still sensitive from your orgasm, but you could feel his need, the tension in his body as he held back. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was close—so close.

Joel’s pace slowed slightly, his cock throbbing deep inside you as he hovered over you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. His hand slid down your side, possessive, as if every inch of your body belonged to him now. He kissed along your jawline, his voice husky, thick with lust and something deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum, baby?” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his cock still twitching inside you.

“Tell me where you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You felt a rush of heat, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Your voice came out shaky, but full of want as you gasped, “Inside, Joel. Please cum inside me.”

A guttural groan escaped his throat, his eyes darkening as he stared at you, the words hitting him like a spark to gasoline.

"God, I’ve been dreamin’ of hearing you say that," he growled, his hips bucking forward again, harder this time. "Pumpin’ you full of my seed. Fuck… the thought of you pregnant with my child?"

“The thought of you, round and swollen with my baby—fuck, sometimes I just cum from imaginin’ it,” he growled, his voice growing more desperate as his thrusts quickened, his cock hitting deep inside you with every movement.

“You’d be so beautiful, so perfect. And you’d be mine—all mine.”

His words sent a shock of pleasure straight through you, the intensity of his dirty talk igniting every nerve in your body. Joel’s hands gripped your hips harder as he thrust deeper, his cock filling you completely with each powerful stroke. His voice was raw, full of desperate hunger as he whispered in your ear.

“Imagine it,” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck, his cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“You, swollen with my baby. I’d make you cum again and again while my child grows inside you. I’d take care of you, worship you… make you feel like the goddess you are.”

The filthy images he painted, combined with the overwhelming sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, made your body tremble, your mind reeling with the intensity of it. Your fingers dug into his back as your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

His pace grew faster, more frantic as he chased his release, the idea of you full of his cum, of you carrying his child, driving him wild. You could feel him getting closer, his grip on your hips tightening as his cock swelled inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“You’d be such a good mother,” he groaned, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. I’m gonna make sure every drop stays inside. ’ gonna be so full of my cum.”

You were lost in him, lost in the way his body felt against yours, the way his words wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the pleasure.

“Yes, Joel,” you gasped, your voice shaky as your body trembled with anticipation. “Please, cum inside me. I want it so bad.”

“Take it, baby. Take all of it. I’m fillin’ you up. God, you feel so fucking good.”

With a deep, primal growl, Joel’s hips slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside as he came with a force that made his whole body shudder.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged as he groaned your name, his cum spilling inside you, filling you completely.

You could feel every twitch, every hot pulse of his release, the sensation sending you over the edge again, your body convulsing as a second wave of pleasure crashed through you.

His body shook with the force of his release, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as he held you tightly, his cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself.

He stayed like that for a moment, his body pressed tightly against yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he caught his breath. His cock still twitched inside you, his cum warm and thick as it filled you completely. His hands caressed your sides, his touch tender and loving despite the roughness of what had just happened.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, still trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm. “Fuck… you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of emotion. “’ everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His cock still twitched inside you, the warmth of his cum spreading through your core as he slowly pulled back, pressing soft kisses along your neck, your shoulders.

Joel's breathing was still heavy, his chest pressed against yours as he held you tightly, his cock still buried inside you. He kissed your neck softly, murmuring between deep breaths.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this,” he rasped, his voice low and raw. “You have no idea how long I’ve been savin’ this for you, baby. No one else could ever do it for me. You’re the only one… the only woman I want. I’m full of it, every drop of cum was meant for you.”

His words were tender but possessive, the weight of what he was saying wrapping around you. His hand slid up your side gently, still exploring, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice took on a pleading tone.

“Please, baby,” he whispered softly, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Leave him. You deserve more. You deserve to be worshipped, loved, the way I’ll love you every single day. You’re mine now. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart pound at the weight of his words, your body still trembling from the intensity of the moment.

As the intensity of the moment began to fade, the weight of Joel's words hung in the air between you. You felt the warmth of his body still pressed against yours, his breath steadying as he held you close, but now, the frantic passion had simmered into something deeper. Something certain.

For the first time in what felt like forever, clarity washed over you. Joel had peeled back all the layers of doubt, of shame, of loneliness, and left you with the undeniable truth—you deserved this. You deserved more.

You shifted slightly in his arms, and he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was soft, no longer driven by raw desire, but by something far more profound. There was a silent question there, one he didn’t have to ask out loud. He had already said it all.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. You didn’t need to say anything right now. You didn’t need to make promises or decisions this second. But for the first time, you knew. You knew what you wanted, who you wanted.

And Joel knew it too.

“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple, the tenderness of the moment grounding you both. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in years. You weren’t just his now—you were finally yours.

As the room grew quiet, the weight of your choices settled in, but it wasn’t daunting anymore. It felt like freedom. Like the start of something new.

The beginning of everything you’d been missing.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[sennenpharaoh]

"What are you--" Was the only thing that came out of his mouth as he was picked up. There was no response from his Colonel, nothing, until Atem was laid down on the bed, and before he could say anything else there was Roy climbing into bed right with him, draping the covers over both of them.

"I don't understand," Atem whispered, looking at the small enclosed space the covers have given them. "What is the meaning of-"

"Now... let out your feelings, Atem."

He looked back at Roy, his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. Why did Roy bring Atem here, to his bed? Why under the covers? What was the point of-

"Don't hide them from me, be honest."

Did... Did Roy know? How? How?! He had his eyes closed shut so Roy couldn't see them, kept his mouth shut so he could hear anything, and still... A look of bitter disbelief shot right at Roy before it was interrupted by the feeling of his Colonel's lips against his own, the warmth of Roy's arms around him pressing him close to the other, and of course... the sound of those four words.

"I love you, Atem."

That was when his eyes widened yet again as he just looked into Roy's eyes. Every time Roy would say that phrase it meant more than just a declaration of love. It was a push. A gentle shove in a certain direction. Sometimes it's forgiveness, others it's letting go, right now... he could only see one message.

Let it out.

With a long sigh he looked down, his hands up against Roy's chest, focusing more on the fabric of his shirt than anything. Something to hold on to.

"I... want to believe. While I want nothing more than to have faith in the both of us... I... can't. I have all the faith in you, after what I've seen. You can handle yourself around so many enemies, defeated a powerful... non human... whatever it was, and your flames are so potent it can destroy thousands. I've said it already. Between the two of us, if anyone has any hope of defeating Dartz, it's you. Not... me." And right as he said that he already started to feel his body betray him yet again, except this time... almost as if he was listening to his Colonel's words... he allowed his body to betray him, trembling as he grabbed hold onto Roy's shirt, eyes squeezed shut as he could feel the tears he was holding back starting to form, and his voice low and shaky.

"I have fought him... countless times. I have killed him... twice. I threw all I had at him. Everything. And all that did was make him laugh, defeat me in one shot, and leave me for dead. I'm not... who I was before." At this point a sob here and there escaped him, the tears that he was holding back slowly left his squeezed shut eyes, and the grip to Roy's shirt tightened. "When I was with Aibou, when I was Pharaoh, I was fighting on the front lines, keeping those I care about safe, fighting for my friends, my loved ones, my entire Kingdom! I commanded the gods, I commanded the Creator of Light itself and took down a Dark God! I defeated the Leviathan and sent it away with the power of all three gods at once!"

He felt his lips curl as he continued. "But when I made my wish to come back to the Modern World... I had to pay a price. My title was stripped, my connection to the gods is gone, and my magic is nothing but the energy to use a handful of Magic Cards if I'm lucky! My wish reduced my magic to a fraction of what it used to be, there's no way in hell I can beat him!!!" With that outburst Atem finally snapped open his eyes, tears now freely pouring out of them, revealing a turmoil of emotion: anger, self hatred, frustration, fear, sadness, and regret.

"Time and time again I have fought him, and time and time again I have lost. I can have all the faith in your strength, but in mine... I can't. So don't you dare sit here in front of me and lie to me like this. Don't you lie to me and tell me that I'm strong because I'm not! Not anymore." He felt his whole face twist before he allowed everything to go limp and just... feel. "Not... anymore..." And with that he just allowed his body to cry, the feeling of being powerless and weak all this time, after so many time of him pushing that feeling down and bearing it, finally being too much for him to hold back. So... as Roy said... he just let it out.

"Do not... lie to me..."

He knows he's holding back from showing his true emotions. Roy knows that look all too well. Tracing his thumb against him softly still he kisses his forehead softly, hoping to ease the others nerves and worry.

He then had an idea, he doesn't know if the snake would even dare watch them in the bedroom. He doesn't reply to Atem just yet as he picks the other up in his arms bridal style like he has been doing easier now and takes them both to their bedroom and closes the door behind them as he pulls the covers out and sets Atem under them before climbing onto the bed with him covering them both up so it he was the only one to see.

"Now... let out your feelings, Atem. Don't hide them from me, be honest." He whispers kissing his lips softly as he wraps his arms around him, holding him close to his body.

"I love you, Atem."

Let it out with me, it's just us now.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

[arcielee]

ilībio

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 2.6+ Warnings: reader AFAB, dubcon elements?, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, rough sex as a coping mechanism, p in v unprotected, a hint of possessive Aemond as a treat Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 This story was partly inspired by the brilliance of @peachysunrize (my muse 💜) and @adragonprinceswhore and their wonderful pieces they shared on this hellsite, but it was also inspired by this bitch ass anon. This man is beautiful and I would do anything to be a hole at his disposal. Enjoy! Valyrian translations: ilībio is whore, Iksā ñuhon is you are mine 😈

The instructions from the madame were clear: you were not to speak to the prince and you most certainly were not to look him in the eye. 

It was hard to follow her explicit instructions, as he was as beautiful as he was captivating. You recalled the night when you first saw Prince Aemond. He was poised at the entrance, pulling back his hood to reveal the silver spill of his hair that showed gold in the amber light basking the brothel, his brow furrowed as he looked over the room before taking a step. He was tall and lithe with a grace that cut through the crowd, not sparing a glance at the patrons or whores that parted to allow him through. 

You remembered hearing the stories of the old gods of Old Valyria and thought that he was truly the embodiment from those legends, that he glowed from the ichor knitted into his veins. 

He paused to look at you, and you felt your heart begin to gnaw at your ribs, your pulse erratic as you burned under his one-eyed scrutiny. Your head was in a fog, unable to understand his question. “Your grace,” you chose to say with a curtsy that was clumsy and unpractised. 

He did not care for the attempt or for your formality, but instead repeated his question. “Where is she?” 

You escorted him to Sylvi as requested, and the madame was quick to capitalize on her honored guest, excusing you at once. You continued to watch him from the shadows, entranced, lost in the daydream of being whisked away with the favoritism of a Targaryen prince. 

When he finally left, she caught your gaze that followed him. Her law was laid, he was hers alone, and your envy was hot and thick in your blood, but you were nothing but another whore to serve, awaiting at her beck and call. 

It was her constant threat of being cast out to Flea Bottom that kept you obedient. She wished you to be a decorative piece, dressed in sheer gowns chosen to complement your figure, and tasked to carry a carafe that would keep the cups filled. You did what you were told; you moved throughout, your fingers curled around the neck and the other hand supporting the bottom, careful not to spill a drop. 

Your second run in with Prince Aemond was nearly your undoing. 

You did not even see him, as your trained demure gaze left you counting your footsteps, and despite how lean the prince looked, he felt solid enough when you stumbled into him. Your hands cramped to hold the bottle upright, your senses flooded with the scent of the leather he had been wearing earlier, mixed with the sheen of perspiration and the bathing oils you surely would never afford.

You were rooted to the cobblestone with the realization that he was bare. 

He seemed to tower over you, and the dragonfire that burned bright showed in the lavender of his eye, glittering in the sapphire of the other. You were mortified and he frowned in return, his silver brow furrowed as he looked you over.

You stared back at him, your embarrassment fading, and perhaps it was your unabashed awe that caught his attention–but whatever it was, he would not tell you.

Prince Aemond reached out to grip your jaw, dimpling into your cheeks. You could feel the warmth from his fingertip trickle down your spine and pool into your core; your thighs clenched for relief, your heart screaming to be consumed.

He tilted his head, his eye boring through as if he could see what you desired, though it was painted plainly on your face. He smirked. “One whore is as good as another,” he spoke out loud, and you felt your heart expanding, pumping your blood and encouraging your steps to follow after him. 

The prince glided to a stop in front of an enclave that was draped in silk and lace. The whore and her patrons inside recognized him at once, scattering like rats into the shadows and leaving you alone with the dragon prince. 

Your hands were still shaking as you set the carafe on top of a table, wiping your palms on your skirts. You turned to face the prince and saw his posture was proud, his muscles tensing as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his eye was ever-watchful of you. 

Your lips parted with a soft exhale to soothe your nerves, to settle the pounding in your chest. You took a slow step towards him, your fingers wishing to reach and touch the marble he had been crafted from, but instead you untied the dress that was wrapped around your waist. The fabric pooled at your feet and you were just as bare, your blood seering to the surface when you saw his cock twitch, a lust that began to cloud his eye. 

It was exhilarating to entice a god. 

Your eyes widened with your own admiration as you took him in, a trepidation that fluttered throughout when he did not reach for you right away. Another exhale and you moved closer to kneel before him, your head tilting up to look at him. 

His jaw ticked, a curiosity flickering, waiting for your next move. 

You swallowed your hesitation and your eyes washed over him with reverence, falling to the lines that cut into his slim hips and trailing in-between. Your touch was gentle to wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, moving it aside to press a wet kiss on the curve of the base. You rested back on your heels and looked up again, licking your lips. 

The prince had you rooted with his heady gaze, a rose dusting to his features. His hand touched the top of your head, returning your attention back to how hot and heavy he now was against the palm of your hand. 

It thrilled you. Your tongue flattened to follow along the side, tracing every ridge and vein of his impressive length. The tip was flushed and you pressed another kiss, licking away the briny taste from your lips before wrapping them around to savor the dragon thrumming in your hand. 

He gave a low groan, tensing with how your mouth moved to engulf him. His hand curled into the back of your scalp with a hold that made your skin prickle; your hand grabbed his hip to anchor your endeavor, moving up and down until he was slick from your spit, your desperation to try and swallow every inch of him. 

You gagged, pulling back to lick your other hand and wrap it around what could not fit, matching your pace. He now held onto you with both of his hands, his fingers knotting into your hair with a hold that brought tears to your eyes, but you would not stop–the taste of royalty igniting in your blood vessels. You were spurred on with the sounds that spilled from his lips, and he bucked into your mouth, bruising your throat. 

Only then did you let go, gasping for air. “Forgive me–”

He did not let you finish. He reached to wrap his hand around your upper arm and he pulled you to stand. “Get on the bed.” His voice was low and lethal, velvet that wrapped around to control you. 

You scrambled on top with a visceral shiver from that anticipation already curling at the base of your spine. You looked up at Prince Aemond and it beckoned him closer with a heavy sway between his slender thighs. “My prince, you will not fit,” you realized, “I must–I need to prepare myself…” 

He loomed over you, balancing one arm on the edge of the mattress while the other reached to stop your hand. “Allow me,” he murmured, bringing his first two fingers to his tongue before dipping to slip them between your silken folds. 

It mixed with your arousal, jolting through you as his fingers curled into you. The stretch burned for a moment, but his touch was tactful, pressing upwards until colors began to dance in front of your eyes, soft sighs spilling.

You whined when his hand pulled away, wiping your slick onto his cock. He pushed forward until you melted back onto the bed. Your legs spread to invite him to the cradle of your hips, and he paused to look at you, a softer expression worn as his eye dropped to your lips. 

Your pulse quickened with your hope for a kiss. 

But instead, his hand dipped to guide his length. You felt a shiver of delight from the glide of his swollen cockhead up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that pooled. You ached for more, willing, wanting, canting your hips to angle yourself in a way for him to sink into you.

The prince took his time and you back arched, gooseflesh rippling over from the intimate pressure, from his intoxicating scent and the softness of his hair tickling your skin, from the heat that seemed to permeate from him. He pushed into you further and it was a fullness you had never experienced before; your walls clenched with the slow rut of his hips, deeper and deeper, until he fully sheathed himself within your warm cunt. 

The prince melted into you, molding to your body. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse to muffle his low groan that rumbled through you.

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, a muted mewl in response. Your vision spun and your legs lifted to wrap around his slender waist, pulling him closer. Your hands followed up the definition of his arms to his shoulders, nails biting to hold onto him; you licked his skin. 

He pushed back with a shudder, eye blown and red blotches staining his alabaster skin. A slow roll of his hips went even deeper and you moaned at the sensation. This pleased the prince, and his lips touched the soft spot under your ear, your nipples pebbling when you felt his smile, his rasped command on your skin: “Let them hear you.” 

The madame taught all the girls how to feign pleasure. There was an art of kohl and hooded eyes, of girlish whimpers and whines to encourage patrons to completion. 

But it was unneeded with how the prince was splitting you in half with his cock.

His palms pressed to hold you against the slow snap of his hips, fucking you into the bed until you were teetering on the precipice of both pleasure and pain. Tears pearled at the corners of your eyes and spilled with his brutal pace. He does not see them, his sharp chin tucked to his chest, mesmerized by the white ring forming around the base of his cock that glides in-and-out of you.

It sparked a kaleidoscope of colors with each thrust and you clenched again. “Gods,” he hissed, “you were made for me.” 

His praise was muted, your mind so lost in the haze of passion building, in the wet suction of your cunt desperate to pull him back into you. Your slick spilled in-between your thighs, your fingers fluttering to his hips to pull him even closer– 

But Prince Aemond pulled away. 

You could not stop your whine, pressing to your elbows to watch him. He cupped your chin, not  rough like before, but enough to tilt your head back and truly look at you. The severity of his features softened, the natural curl to his pink lips ticking upwards and hinting at a smile. “I want you to turn around and get on all fours.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of him claiming his pleasure in a more… unnatural means, remembering the horror stories that the girls shared. You burned as you moved, just as he wished–for how could you deny a prince? You faced away, your arse up. 

His palms were warm when they touched your hips, sliding back to spread your cheeks to see how you glistened for him. There was another noise of content as he shifted behind you, another trill of pleasure up your spine when you felt his cock pressing into your cunt again. 

This new angle was tight, and your hands knotted into the linen of the bed to brace yourself. The prince does not force himself on you, but takes his time to fit; he leaned over you, his lips touching the curve of your spine and his large hand reaching around to palm your breast, pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You crumbled, another muffled cry into the bed, your nerves aflame. His hand followed to the nape of your neck, a firm hold to pull you back up. “Let them hear you,” his repeated rasp was hot against your skin. 

His hands bruised into your hips, sinking into you until the tops of his thighs were flushed against your arse. You were shaking, your back arching to feel him pressing even further than before. He hummed and slammed into you with a pace that builds.

It returned you to that pleasure you tasted earlier when his fingers curled within you, something anew. It was a warm sensation that prickled over your skin, igniting with his thrusts. Your hips rocked back to meet with his unrelenting rhythm as he crashed against you, again and again, until you shattered, splintering off and lifting above, a thousand butterfly wings fluttering throughout you. 

Your cries pulled him after, your cunt grasping for his release. It was quieter for him; the prince hunched over you, his damp brow pressing to your spine with another guttural groan as he pulsed hot and deep into you. 

You fell into the mattress, breathless and drunk from the pleasure pulled. Your mind was tittering how you should fetch a cloth to clean the prince, to pour a fresh goblet to wet his throat, but your body refused. 

At best, you muscled enough strength to turn your neck and look at his sharp angles as he laid on his side, taking in the vision he commanded: the rose tones that touched him intimately, the freckles sprinkled on his shoulders, the lavender color that returned to his one eye. 

Princely, you thought. “Beautiful,” you murmured.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, you swore he flushed from what you said. He touched a finger to your hip, following your curves and coming up to press into your chin to hold your attention–as if you would dare to look away. 

“I will be back for you tomorrow,” he decided.

Your practiced stoicism masked your elation. “She will not like that, my prince,” you reminded him, thinking of the venom that poured when Sylvi glared at you. She made sure to mention him like a trophy she possessed, her face perpetually smug with her every mention of him. 

A smirk played on his lips. He pulled you into his chest and you felt his spend spilling in-between your thighs. You did not care but melted into his warmth, your arm wrapping around his waist, pressing your face to his chest and feeling the low hum of his heart. 

“She will be of no concern,” he spoke like a man who acted without any fear of consequences, but you supposed that this was the tone of all royalty. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and it jolted through your chest. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You curled against him, too dazed to comprehend the weight of his words that rolled from his lips–the tongue of Old Valyria. They meant nothing to you as you laid in the arms of a god.

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