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hyuniemyunie · 3 months ago

Note

Movie! Shadow x fem!reader smut– It started with them having a innocent kissing sesh.. then things start to escalate

Fading Twilight

Shadow the hedgehog x fem reader

nsfw

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(ФωФ): unprotected sex, cumming inside

i am not confident in my nsfw writing skills ESPECIALLY THIS ONE- butttt i hope u like it🫶

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

The room was bathed in soft, dim light—the evening sun fading into hues of pink and orange as it dipped below the horizon. The air was cool, the faint scent of the outdoors mixing with the warm, lingering fragrance of your shared space.

Shadow sat on the couch, his usual aloofness softened in this quiet moment, his crimson eyes flicking toward you as you crossed the room. The atmosphere between you had changed over the last few weeks—what had once been small moments of casual touch, lingering glances, and fleeting words had grown into something undeniable.

You stopped in front of him, your breath steady but the air around you thick with anticipation. It was hard to ignore the pull between you both—the way he made you feel when he wasn’t shielding himself behind his cold exterior. There were no words to explain it. You leaned in slightly, just enough for your lips to be a whisper away from his. Shadow’s gaze flicked down to your lips, his breath slow, and then—without warning—he cupped your face in one hand, pulling you gently closer.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and cautious at first, as though testing the waters. You responded, your own lips moving in sync with his, the kiss deepening just slightly, a quiet exploration of what was between you. His hand slid from your face to your neck, the touch warm and comforting, yet there was an undeniable edge to it—something that hinted at desire, buried just beneath the surface. The kiss was slow, intimate, and full of promise. His lips parted slightly against yours, as if asking for more, and you didn’t hesitate to let the tension build, allowing the kiss to deepen.

Shadow’s body seemed to tense, his hold on you tightening just a bit as if he were trying to control the storm brewing within him. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt his warmth, his heartbeat beneath the layers of his fur.

His breath hitched when you shifted, pressing a bit more into him, and you could sense the struggle inside him—he wanted this. More than just the kiss, more than the comfort of the quiet moments you shared. You broke the kiss for a breath, your lips tingling, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You both knew where this was headed, the air crackling with tension and desire.

“Shadow…” Your voice was breathless, soft, but filled with longing.

His eyes locked onto yours, the usual guarded expression fading into something darker, something raw. “I told you this would be dangerous,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, the edge of restraint slipping.

“I don’t care,” you replied, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I want you.”

Without another word, Shadow leaned in again, his kiss more demanding now, heated with the fire of unspoken desire. His hands moved with purpose, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. The pressure of his body against yours was intoxicating, and you felt the heat of his chest, the undeniable firmness of his frame.

As his lips moved to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin, you gasped, the sensation sending a shiver through your spine. The contrast between his warmth and the cool air around you only heightened the electricity in the room. His teeth grazed your skin, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips.

He paused, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and something deeper. “Are you sure?”

You didn’t answer in words—just kissed him again, more passionately this time, your hands tangling in his quills as you drew him closer. There was no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment where nothing mattered but the way he made you feel.

Shadow's hands roamed your curves, exploring the softness of your body through the thin fabric of your clothes. His touch was confident yet tender, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. He slid his fingertips beneath the hem of your shirt, his claws lightly grazing your skin as he pushed the material up and off, tossing it carelessly aside.

Left bare, you felt a flicker of self-consciousness, acutely aware of your body, the slight softness of it, and the faint marks from past, or current, insecurities. But Shadow seemed not to notice or care, his gaze filled with a hunger that made your heart race. He leaned in, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts. His hands cupped their weight, thumbing your nipples through the lace of your bra until they strained against the fabric. His head dipped lower, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. It fell away, and cool air pebbled your nipples before Shadow's warm mouth covered one, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. You gasped, arching into his touch, tangling your fingers in his dark fur. Shadow's own arousal pressed against your thigh, hard and insistent through the fur of his quills. The knowledge that you could affect him so deeply, that your body could ignite such desire in him, sent a thrill through you. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips, pulling you more firmly against him.

He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as the other stroked down your side, over your hip, to hook behind your knee. He lifted your leg, encouraging you to wrap it around his waist as he pressed against your core, the heat of him searing even through your panties.

The pleasure was intense, the pressure and friction delicious, but you needed more. You needed to feel him, all of him. Your hands slid down his back, over the lean muscles and sleek fur, to cup his firm rear. You squeezed, pulling him closer, and Shadow groaned against your mouth.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lust. "My love," he growled, his voice rough and low. "You're playing with fire."

"Then let me burn," you whispered, boldly.

Shadow's breathing grew heavier as your hands explored his bare back, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. He was new to this, to the intimate caress of another's hands on his skin, and it both thrilled and unnerved him. Every nerve ending felt exposed, raw, alight with sensation he'd never experienced before.

His own hands trembled slightly as he slid them down to the waistband of your panties, his fingers curling under the elastic. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours, a flicker of hesitation in their crimson depths. "Love, I..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I want to... but I've never..."

He trailed off, leaving the confession unspoken but hanging heavily in the air between you. Shadow the Hedgehog, the ultimate life form, the pinnacle of human achievement, was a virgin. In all of his existence, he had never known the intimate touch of another, never experienced the depths of pleasure and connection that could be found in the joining of two bodies. It was a vulnerability he'd never allowed himself before, a weakness he'd always guarded against. But with you, in this moment, he found himself wanting to let go.

Shadow's fingers tightened on your panties, and with a sudden, decisive tug, he pulled them down your legs and off. Leaving you bare, exposed, your most intimate places revealed to his heated gaze. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of your drenched, puffy pussy, before his hands slid back up your thighs, pushing them gently apart.

Shadow positioned himself between your legs, his body poised above yours. The tip of his arousal brushed against your slick folds, and he shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips. "Starlight," he breathed, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you... all of you."

With a deep breath, he began to push forward, his length slowly parting your folds, inch by tortuous inch. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, the tight, slick heat of your body enveloping him, drawing him in deeper. Shadow's eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing as he focused on the intensity of the new sensations.

As he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside you, Shadow paused, his body trembling slightly. You gasped as Shadow entered you, your body stretching to accommodate his girth. It was a mix of pleasure and discomfort, your walls clenching around him as they adjusted to the new intrusion. Your fingers dug into his back, nails raking lightly over his skin as you tried to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations.

Shadow's breath came in short, sharp bursts as he fought to maintain control, his hips pressed flush against yours, it took every ounce of his restraint not to begin moving immediately.

"Shadow..." you whimpered, your voice breathy and filled with need. Your hips lifted slightly, instinctively seeking more of that deep, satisfying pressure.

Shadow's eyes opened, and he looked down at you with an intensity that made your heart race. His gaze was dark, the crimson of his irises nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils, and filled with a hunger that both thrilled and frightened you. He growled, his voice rough and low. "You feel... incredible."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Shadow began to move. He withdrew until only the tip of him remained inside you, before pushing forward again, sinking back into your welcoming heat. He set a steady, deliberate pace, each thrust measured and controlled. Shadow's hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh. His thumbs circled your nipples, teasing and tormenting the sensitive peaks until they strained against his touch. He leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a deep kiss that left you breathless.

You felt Shadow's smaller frame pressing against you, his stature making him seem almost delicate compared to your own, almost. Shadow's length was average for a guy like him, not the massive size one might expect from the ultimate life form. Around 5 inches of hard, throbbing flesh pulsed inside you, stroking your walls with each careful thrust. Despite his smaller size, the sensation was no less intense, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each deep plunge. You could feel Shadow's heart racing against your chest as he made love to you, his breath hot and fast against your neck. His hands roamed your body with a newfound sense of wonder, as if he seemed determined to map every curve and contour, to commit every inch of your skin to memory.

Shadow's climax approached slowly, his thrusts growing faster, more urgent. You could feel his body tensing, his muscles tightening as he neared the edge. "My love," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "I... I can't..."

He didn't finish the sentence, his words dissolving into a low moan as his orgasm overtook him. Shadow's hips jerked forward, burying himself as deep inside you as he could go as he found his release. His seed pulsed hot and thick against your walls, filling you with his essence. As he collapsed against you, his body shaking with the force of his climax, you held him close, cradling him in your arms as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

You held Shadow close as he shuddered through his release, feeling the warmth of his seed spreading inside you. Your own pleasure crested a moment later, your inner walls clamping down around him as you came undone beneath him. Soft cries of ecstasy escaped your lips, your fingers digging into his back, leaving faint red lines on his skin.

In the aftermath, you both lay tangled together, chests heaving and bodies glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Shadow's head rested on your chest, his fur soft against your skin. You stroked his head gently, marveling at the silky texture and the way he seemed to melt into your touch.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, Shadow lifted his head to look at you. His eyes were still dark, but now they shone with a new warmth, a softness that you had never seen before. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his clawed finger tracing the curve of your cheek.

"That was... incredible." A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

You leaned up to kiss him softly, pouring all of your own wonder and affection into the gentle press of your lips against his. Shadow responded in kind, his arm tightening around your waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Shadow rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. "Stay with me," he whispered, a note of something almost like fear in his voice. "Don't leave."

You realized then the true depth of the intimacy you had just shared, and the vulnerability it had exposed in Shadow. For all his strength and power, he was still a being capable of deep emotion and connection. And in that moment, he had bared his soul to you, trusting you with his most precious self.

"I won't leave you," you promised softly

Shadow's eyes fluttered shut as he listened to your gentle promise, a sense of relief and contentment washing over him. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent, letting it fill his lungs and calm his racing heart. In your arms, he felt a peace he had never known before, a sense of belonging and connection that went beyond anything he had experienced in his long, solitary life.

As the minutes ticked by, Shadow's softening member slipped from your body, a trickle of your combined essence leaking out to cool on your thigh. He made no move to pull away, content to stay nestled against you, his body curved protectively around yours.

Shadow's hand slid down to your belly, splaying his fingers over your soft skin. He could feel the slight swell of your stomach, the way it dipped and curved beneath his palm. His claws traced the line of your hip, the curve of your waist, the swell of your breast. He wanted to touch every part of you, to map your body with his hands and his mouth until he knew every inch of you by heart. The urge to taste your skin, to feel your heartbeat beneath his lips, consumed him.

Shadow's other hand slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, tracing the delicate arch of it. He tilted your chin down, forcing you to meet his gaze. The crimson of his eyes had cooled to a warm, molten glow, burning into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Mine now. I won't let anyone take you from me." he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest

The declaration was fierce, almost violent in its intensity. But beneath the possessiveness, you could hear the vulnerability, the deep-seated need for connection and belonging. Shadow had found something precious in you, and he was determined to hold on to it with everything he had. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning, the glow of moonlight spilling through the window. You and Shadow lay side by side on the bed, your bodies nestled together, the warmth of his chest pressed against your back. His arms are wrapped loosely around you, as if he's afraid you'll slip away.

You sigh softly, your fingers tracing gentle patterns over his hand. Shadow's breath is slow and steady against your neck, and his presence, though strong and commanding, feels like a soft comfort now. His usual guarded nature melts away in the calm of the night.

"You're safe here," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper, as though he doesn't want to break the peaceful silence. His hand runs up and down your arm, a tender motion.

You turn slightly to look at him, finding those ruby eyes, softened in the dim light, watching you with a gaze that’s almost vulnerable. "I know," you reply, your voice soft but certain, letting him feel the reassurance in your words.

Shadow's thumb brushes over your cheek, and you smile, the simple act making your heart swell with warmth. His lips meet your forehead in a brief, gentle kiss, and for a moment, you both stay there, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The world outside may be full of chaos and uncertainty, but here, in his arms, you have everything you need.

He pulls you closer, his heartbeat steady against yours. “I love you."

And in the peaceful stillness of the night, you both drift off to sleep, content and safe in each other’s embrace.

#shadow x you #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x female reader #female reader #f!reader #fem!reader #fem reader

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vunblr · 4 days ago

Text

Tangled (#11)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 8.8k

Note: And we have reached the end. A big thank you to the readers who accompanied me on this journey. As I always say, this may be the story with fewer 'notes' on my masterlist, but the quality of the interaction has been overwhelming -in the best way- asking, drawing, commenting, reblogging, I am so grateful I got to experience that, truly, thank you❤️

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Making the alcove habitable wasn’t so bad.

Bucky had shifted to his human form to help her carry the essentials: an air mattress, blankets, a few rechargeable lights for the pitch-black space, snacks, and water. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it would do.

Shifting during mating season, however, had taken a toll. His body, busy channeling energy toward more primal needs, had little left to spare. By the end of the day, he was sluggish, aching, and quietly grumpy, made worse, she suspected, because she’d witnessed a side of him he didn’t particularly like showing.

“You okay?” she asked, stepping close with a gentle smile. “You seem a little… indisposed.”

He didn’t respond right away, just blinked slowly, then reached out with his limbs to draw her in until her body was pressed against his chest.

“Changing forms during mating season is not... wise,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Because the body craves only one thing, and its energy is focused on that. We don’t do other things. We barely eat. We just-”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

“Oh,” she murmured, brushing a hand along his cheek. “You shouldn’t have shifted, then. I could’ve brought everything down myself, and you could’ve just set it all up.”

That struck a nerve. He stiffened, frowning. “I won’t let my mate exert herself physically when I am perfectly capable-”

She cut him off with a quick kiss. “I know you’re capable, but I could’ve made three trips. You wouldn’t be feeling like this now.”

After a while, she asked softly, “You said your kind don’t do other things during mating season. Just mating.”

He made a small, tired noise in response.

“Do you feel frustrated because we- I mean, it’s just once or twice a day, but then I…” she trailed off, cheeks warm, voice muffled as she buried her face into the curve of his neck. She didn’t need to end the sentence. Usually, she ended up sore, and he refused to take her again, even if it killed him.

“No.”

The answer came quickly, firmly, but she didn’t miss the way his arms clenched around her.

“But it’s not the same,” she mumbled. “And clearly, you want more.”

He stared up at the rocky ceiling, ticking his jaw as he searched for the right words. “I spent decades doing this alone. So you… being here with me is enough.”

“Better than nothing, huh?” she teased, nudging him gently.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice came out stiff, almost panicked, words tumbling over each other. Damn his poor way with human expressions. He could hunt, fight, track movement through currents, but explaining feelings without tangling them up? Nearly impossible.

She smiled against his skin. “I know what you meant.”

“Besides,” he added after a pause, “even if your body can’t have me inside all the time, you still…” He trailed off, clearly wrestling with the wording. His cheeks tinted pink. “Service me.”

She snorted softly, biting her bottom lip to hide her grin. “That sounds so old-fashioned, and kind of dirty.”

He looked genuinely confused. “What would you call it then? You do things with your hands, your mouth… only for my pleasure.”

She reached up to brush a damp lock of hair from his brow. “I don’t know,” she murmured, still smiling. “Let’s just say I take care of you.”

He hummed at that. Maybe he didn’t fully grasp the nuance of the phrasing, but he understood her tone, her softness. She was choosing to stay. Choosing him, even when he couldn’t give her the most comfortable version of himself.

After a silent moment, she stopped brushing her fingers through the damp ends of his hair.

“Do you want some fruit?” she asked softly, reaching toward the bag by the mattress.

Didn’t get an answer.

When she leaned back to look at him, she found his eyes closed, lips parted slightly, with the kind of peace he rarely allowed himself. He’d fallen asleep mid-conversation, curled around her, completely spent.

Smiling to herself, she shifted back down into the cradle of his limbs, letting the slow pulse of the tide outside lull her into sleep. Wrapped in his embrace, she closed her eyes too, deciding that maybe a nap wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

----

Days came and went, and the pull of mating season finally began to loosen its hold on him. The fevered need that once gripped his body -the aching hunger to touch, to scent, to stay wound around her- eased gradually, like the tide drawing back from the shore. He still wanted her, always would, but the urgency had dulled into something manageable.

With that came a mutual decision: she would return to her home to sleep, to the comfort of her proper bed and familiar things. He didn’t argue, not much anyway, especially after she reminded him he was always welcome there.

She started spending her mornings in town again. A conversation with the old woman who ran the craft shop turned out to be a surprising opportunity, the chance to give beginner crochet lessons twice a week. Just a couple of hours, enough to earn a little extra and maybe help the shop sell more materials.

She hadn’t been sure at first. Teaching felt… official. But she liked the idea of sharing something useful, something she loved. And really, she had nothing to lose.

She printed a few modest posters and pinned them around town, at the bakery, the library, and the community board near the ferry docks. Just a soft-colored flyer with her name, the schedule, and the promise of beginner-friendly crochet. She didn’t expect much.

But the very next day, three people signed up.

Emma, the elderly owner of the bookshop, had always meant to learn. When she found out her granddaughter Harriet wanted to attend, motivated by a deep desire to make amigurumis, she decided it was finally time. And then there was Chris, one of the clerks at the general store, who admitted in a shy, mumbled tone that he was hoping crocheting might help with his nerves. Dealing with people every day, even in a small town, was wearing on him. He needed something quiet to focus on.

It was an odd little trio, but a good one.

----

She dipped her toes into the foamy edge of the tide, wrapped her arms loosely around her knees. Bucky stayed just within reach, half-submerged in the water, with his elbows propped on a rock as he watched her.

“I got three students already,” she said, smiling. “Isn’t that wild? I just put up the flyers yesterday.”

His ears perked faintly. “Three?”

“Mhm. Emma from the bookstore, her granddaughter Harriet, and Chris. You know, from the general store.”

His expression didn’t shift much, except for the slight furrow between his brows and the narrowing in his eyes. “Chris… isn’t it a male name?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning. “Yes.”

He pushed up a little straighter. “But… that’s a secret craft.”

“A secret craft?”

“Only females do it. It’s private.”

She chuckled, moving beside him and reaching over to tuck a stray lock of damp hair behind his ear. “Maybe in the past it was a woman's thing. But not anymore. Plenty of men crochet now.”

His frown deepened. “Why is he doing it?”

“Anxiety,” she said, smiling. “He says it helps with that. I think it’s great.”

The point of his limbs curled and swayed, a sign she was beginning to recognize as disapproval. “He must want something else.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, brushing sand off her calves. “Like what?”

“You.”

She turned toward him, surprised at his bluntness, but the stern, almost sulky set of his mouth made it hard not to laugh. “You think he signed up just to get close to me?”

Bucky didn’t answer, but the look he gave her said exactly that.

She laughed then, swatting gently at his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He didn’t laugh. He just blinked at her, completely serious. “Males don’t do manual, trifling things like that without purpose.”

That was not the best choice of words, as he’ll discover.

“Well, that trifling thing had put a roof over my head and fed me for years, and luckily for me, there are those who find it valuable.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The water stirred faintly around him.

She straightened her back, brushing the last of the sand from her skirt, not looking at him this time. “You might not get it, but that doesn’t make it worthless.”

He watched her walk a few paces down the shore. “I didn’t mean-” he tried.

“Maybe next time, think a little before calling my work trifling.” And with that, she turned and started toward the path.

In a flash of black and blue, two of his tendrils snapped forward, one curling gently around her wrist, the other at her waist. Not harshly. Just holding. Just asking her to stay.

“Wait,” he said.

She didn’t fight him, but didn’t speak either. Her gaze stayed ahead.

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” he stated in a low voice. His eyes flicked to the side, like the words were hiding somewhere in the tide. “What I meant was… it’s work for women-”

She turned back sharply, narrowing her gaze. “Oh, so it’s trifling because only women do it?”

“No!” he sighed, frustrated but not at her. “I meant… it’s not a physical trait. Not something a provider would normally do.”

He looked genuinely troubled, his brows drawn and lips parted like he was still sorting through the right phrasing.

She softened slightly, folding her arms. “Bucky… we’re not in the stone age anymore. There aren’t roles like that- not here. Maybe in some outdated societies, sure, but that’s not how things work.”

He opened his mouth again, as his stubborn instinct was brewing, but she held up a hand.

“I’ll give you this: yes, crocheting and knitting are still mostly seen as women’s hobbies. But there are men doing it. And good ones, too.”

“You’re proving me right, then,” he said.

She blinked. “How so?”

“That few males perform such activities. So it’s likely that this Chris wants to be close to you. Some kind of subterfuge-”

“Bucky,” she cut in, already exasperated. “I promise you, not every man who talks to me wants to get into my panties. I’m not exactly Sabrina Carpenter.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” he muttered. “But I know you’re not this... whoever.”

“That’s not the point,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “The point is, we’ve talked about this before. You know how things work here, men and women can be friends. They can work together, share hobbies, without any ulterior motives. And that is what happens most of the time.”

She took a step closer, calmer. “I’m going to teach this guy. If you’re that insecure, you’re welcome to come sit in on the classes.”

That seemed to give him pause. The thought of keeping an eye on things clearly appeased something territorial in him.

She lifted a finger before he could get too pleased. “Which is not a free ticket to intimidate him. Or harass him. Or loom in a corner like a judgmental gargoyle.”

“What is a gargoyle?”

----

None of the students had any experience with crochet, so they were starting from square one: how to hold the hook, how to tension the yarn, how to make a slip knot that didn’t unravel immediately.

Emma and Harriet picked things up quickly. The older woman had a natural talent, it seemed, and picked up the instructions quickly, and Harriet seemed determined to master the basic chain stitch with youthful stubbornness. Chris, on the other hand, struggled a little more. His yarn slipped too often, his fingers cramped, and he held the hook like a screwdriver. He needed extra attention, which she was happy to give, crouching beside his chair now and then to guide his hands.

They were about half an hour in when the front door creaked open.

Bucky stepped inside. Tall and broad-shouldered, wearing black jeans and a blue shirt that stretched a little over his chest. His hair was still wet, combed back pretty neatly, for being styled using his hands.

He stood silently for a moment, sweeping his blue eyes over the scene at the dining table.

She caught his gaze and gave a small nod, subtly signaling him to say something.

“Hello,” he said flatly.

Then, without another word, he made his way to the couch and sat down, resting his hands on his knees like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he’d declared his presence.

Three pairs of curious eyes followed his movements. Harriet leaned toward Emma and whispered something behind her hand. The older woman gave her a gentle nudge and a sharp look. Chris squinted subtly, then tilted his head.

“Oh,” he said, as if just connecting the dots. “This is your friend from the city. It’s been a while since we saw him around town.”

Bucky scowled without blinking. “I’m her mat-”

“Boyfriend,” she cut in smoothly, not even glancing at Bucky as she reached to correct Chris’s chain tension again.

The three reactions came in their own little time: Emma gave a satisfied nod, like she’d seen this coming all along. Harriet made a face of teenage disappointment, barely masking it with a sip of juice. And Chris… well, his was harder to read. For her, anyway.

Bucky, however, watched him closely. The second the word left her mouth, he saw the exact thought crossing the man’s mind, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Nice to meet you,” they all said, nearly in unison.

“Oh,” Chris added, still half-focused on his lopsided chain. “Wouldn’t have guessed. You’re one of those couples with zero PDA, then?”

“What is that?” Bucky asked before she could intervene.

Chris grinned a little, maybe not expecting him to ask. “You know. PDA, public displays of affection. When a couple acts like they’re together. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing in public. That kinda stuff.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “That’s expected?”

“Not expected,” she said quickly, giving Chris a short look. “Just... common.”

He seemed to mull it over, nodding slowly with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for treaties or battle plans.

“I see.”

And then, just to top it all off, he reached over from the couch, hooked a finger in the edge of her shirt, and gave a gentle tug.

When she looked over, he was watching her, not quite sulking, but clearly filing this PDA business into the things to think about later category.

She reached over and grabbed Bucky’s hand, curling her fingers around his reassuringly.

“Well, if you must know,” she said, “we haven’t been a couple until recently. We were just friends during the other times he came into town over the winter. That is why we didn’t erm- seem lovey dovey.”

Bucky didn’t respond, but the tightness in his shoulders eased a little.

“Anyway,” she went on, lifting her voice just slightly to return everyone’s focus, “now that you’ve all met the mysterious newcomer, let’s get back to it, we’ve got twenty minutes left.”

“Oh, Hermann and I started as friends too,” Emma offered, smiling softly. “Been married fifty now.”

“Wow, Emma,” Chris laughed. “Don’t scare the guy. They just started going out.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to him sharply, but he didn’t say a word.

The minutes passed without major disruptions. Harriet caught on quickly, needing only a few corrections. Emma took her time, her hands were slow, but she didn’t need help. Chris… still struggled. He kept missing stitches, his tension was inconsistent, and more than once, he asked her to come over and count with him, tilting his head and giving a sheepish little smile.

Bucky didn’t miss it. He didn’t miss anything.

From his place on the couch, he might as well have been carved from stone, silent, unmoving, sharp-eyed.

And when Chris caught him watching, he had the gall to smile. A little smug thing. Not overt, not enough to make a scene, but Bucky saw it. Knew exactly what it was.

She didn’t seem to notice.

But he did.

And the only thing that kept him from dragging him out of the house, and made sure he never breathed near her again, was the promise he’d made: to behave. To prove he could live in her world without wrecking it.

Still, she could feel his stare, like storm clouds building behind her.

So when Chris finally seemed to grasp the rhythm of the stitch and stopped calling her over every few minutes, she took the chance to wander slowly toward the couch, pretending to examine a basket of spare yarn nearby. Her fingers brushed Bucky’s shoulder in passing, just a brief squeeze.

He looked up at her.

There was thunder in his eyes. And something else, something almost young, uncertain, raw. She bent down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a soft embrace.

Bucky exhaled against her neck, hiding his face in its curve. He inhaled slowly and deep, greedily, like he needed her scent to calm himself.

When he opened his eyes again, Chris was watching.

Subtle. Curious.

Until Bucky looked back.

Something in the way he saw him -ancient and cold- made the hairs on Chris’s neck stand up. It didn’t make sense. The guy was sitting politely, with his arms around his girlfriend. But the weight of that look felt like being alone on a dark street and realizing you were being followed.

Hunted.

He blinked and looked away, back to his project. It was probably just his imagination.

Probably.

----

Chris didn’t ask for help again. Not once.

Harriet, on the other hand, lit up near the end, asking if she could try making a little Pokémon. “Something easy,” she said, “like Jigglypuff maybe?” She promised to bring some colorful yarn next time.

When the hour wrapped, everyone gathered their belongings. Emma kissed her cheek goodbye and Harriet gave a little wave. Chris on the other hand didn’t leave right away.

He lingered in the yard, standing awkwardly near the front gate, holding something in his hand.

“Um,” he started, when she stepped out to check. “I actually signed up for this class as sort of a trial.” He extended a folded bill, just the amount for the hour they’d spent. “Uh… I reckon it’s not for me. And when I take over the afternoon shifts at the store, I won’t be able to come anyway. So…”

He trailed off, like he was waiting for her to say something, maybe expecting her to ask him to stay.

She didn’t.

Behind her, the door creaked faintly as Bucky leaned against it, watching without blinking.

Chris noticed.

He hesitated a beat longer, then gave her a faint smile. “Thanks, though. You’re a good teacher.”

Then he nodded once and turned, walking down the path without looking back.

----

The second she clicked the door shut, Bucky's body crowded her against it, suddenly and overwhelmingly. He rested his forearms flat to the wood, bracketing her head and pressing his chest flush to her back.

She barely had time to exhale before he clicked his teeth near her neck, a sharp little sound, half warning, half claim.

“I told you,” he said, low and gravelly.

“Bucky-”

“I told you.” His voice didn’t rise, but she could feel the restraint vibrating against her. “But I behaved.”

“Yeah, you did.” She tilted her head slightly, trying to look at him. “Thank you.”

“You don’t know…” His lips brushed the curve of her neck. Not a kiss, something rougher, hungrier. “…how hard it was not to-”

He bit back the rest with effort. Tear him apart. That’s what he wanted to say. But he didn’t.

“-hurt him. For defying me. For pretending to steal my mate.”

Her breath hitched as he dragged his nose on the shape of her throat.

"Well," she managed to breathe, "I'm not a thing to steal. I have a mind of my own. And I wouldn't-"

He growled, low and rough, deep in his chest. “Don’t twist my words, mate,” he murmured. “I’m talking about his intentions. There’s a reason he fled, and you know it. He came with a purpose and was informed you were taken.”

She shifted slowly until she could turn around and face him. His arms still caged her, but she maintained his gaze with something firm in hers.

“And do you think I’d just indulge him if he tried anything?”

“No,” he said, voice suddenly lower, darker. “But he wouldn’t even be able to try.”

His expression was lethal with certainty. Not rage, but possession. The kind forged from instinct, not ego. And yet, behind that hard glint, there was a flicker of something else.

“Is that why you came today?” she asked quietly. “To make sure he saw you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “He needed to understand. They needed to understand.”

She studied his face for a long, quiet second. There was no bluff in his attitude, just the rigid, primal edge of someone who’d grown up in a world where claiming something meant defending it with tooth and claws. Where lines were drawn in sand and blood, not conversation.

Her hand lifted slowly to his chest, resting just over his heart. “I know,” she said gently. “I know you come from something… older than all this. Something wilder. I don’t expect you to see the world like I do.”

His eyes searched hers, still stormy but no longer threatening.

“I know what it means to you. To protect. To claim. I’m not mocking that.” Her thumb brushed his shirt soothingly. “But in my world, it’s enough that I choose you. That I stand beside you, not behind.”

His brows twitched faintly. She tiptoed and pressed her forehead to his.

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

He exhaled through his nose, warm and shaky, and nudged his face along hers, nuzzling slowly like a creature trying to soothe himself.

“Still hated how he looked at you,” he mumbled, half-pouting, half-exhausted.

“I know,” she smiled. “But you were good. You kept your promise.”

She reached up and cupped his jaw, brushing the edge of his cheek.

“I understand,” she said softly, “I know your instincts are different. I know this is all... learned behavior for you.”

His eyes flicked over her face, searching, hungry, wild, restrained by the thinnest thread of discipline. His hands pressed at her waist, and for a moment, he didn’t speak, just breathed against her cheek.

“I hate not feeling you,” he muttered. “Not the way I should.”

“You’re here,” she murmured, dragging her fingers down the front of his shirt, feeling the heat of his body beneath it. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” he snapped, not cruel but desperate. “I need more of you.”

And before she could answer, he pressed her back harder against the door, finding the line of her throat with his mouth, trailing it with sharp kisses that teetered too close to biting. His hips pinned her in place, and his breath came fast, as his hands slid up to fist her hair.

“I don’t want to pretend I’m like them,” he growled into her skin. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”

“I don’t want you to pretend,” she stated. “I want you. However you come.”

His grip became tighter, and he kissed her like it hurt, like the human shape could barely contain the hunger that lived beneath it. But as her hands slid under his shirt, as her body arched into him, as she pulled him into her bedroom for the first time -not as a creature of sea and storm, but as a man- he began to discover something else:

She didn’t just feel different under human hands. She felt new.

And new could be dangerously good.

He didn’t wait for the bed.

His hands were already under her thighs, lifting her like she weighed nothing, softly tugging her back against the hallway wall. She gasped, gripping his shoulders, locking her legs around his waist without a second thought.

“Still strong,” she whispered, awed.

“Not even close to how strong,” he growled, mouthing at her collarbone, dragging his lips over the line of her neck, then lower. “But here, I don’t have to hold back the same way. I don’t have to think every time I touch you.”

His palms gripped her hips, tightly, almost bruising, like he was testing what he could take. What she could take. She moaned, shifting in his hold, and he felt it in his bones. Her need, her surrender.

“I could throw you over my shoulder,” he muttered against her chest, his breath hot through the fabric, “spread you open on that bed and not worry about your ribs snapping, or your hips dislocating.”

His words made her ache. She arched into him, dragging her hands through the messy ends of his hair.

“So do it.”

That earned her a sharp sound, deep in his throat. His fingers fumbled at her clothes, impatiently, not bothering with finesse. He wanted skin. Now.

She barely registered crossing the threshold of the bedroom before her back hit the mattress, and his weight followed, pressing her into the bed. Her clothes were half-off, half-wrung around her limbs, and he didn’t care. He peeled the rest away with single-minded focus.

His hands roamed through her body like he was learning her all over again. He gripped where he wanted, pushed and pulled where he pleased, not restrained like in the cave, no bracing or shifting weight around sensitive places. Just him. Human and hungry.

“I don’t have to measure how deep I go,” he rasped, nosing the edge of her shirt as his fingers tugged it up and over her chest. “Don’t have to think about your skin splitting when I grip you. Can go as far as I need to.”

“You’re still holding back,” she said, as his mouth trailed lower.

His gaze shot up to meet hers, with something feral simmering behind it.

“Not for long.”

He peeled her shirt the rest of the way off, dragging it over her head in one swift pull, then paused, and just stared.

His eyes dropped to her chest, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

It hit him harder than expected, that swell of hunger in his gut. Maybe it was the way she always kept her breasts covered here, wrapped in soft fabrics and loose sweaters. Maybe it was the contrast, the novelty of unveiling something she guarded in daylight.

His kind didn’t think twice about nudity. Breasts were just another part of the body. But hers…

Hers were warm and heated from his touch, and he couldn’t stop staring at the way they lifted with each breath. Full and soft and real beneath his hands. Something she showed only to him.

He sank lower, bracing one hand on her waist while the other cupped the weight of her breast, slowly dragging the thumb across the peak until it stiffened. He bent then, wrapping his hot mouth around her nipple, and groaned as she arched beneath him.

His hand slid to her other breast, kneading it gently, grazing it back and forth with his thumb until both were stiff and aching under his attention. He flicked his tongue, slow and deliberate, drawing another one of those sounds from her, breathy and sweet and just for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gently grazing his teeth before soothing the spot with his tongue.

She shivered when his mouth released her with a soft, wet sound. His breath was hot against her skin, his hands still roaming, still greedy. But she pressed her palm to his chest and pushed just slightly, enough to make him pause, confused.

"Take it off," she said, huskily. “Not fair, I’m the only one naked here.”

Bucky blinked, then growled low in his throat. "You want me naked, mate?" His smirk was all teeth.

She raised an eyebrow and started tugging at the hem of his shirt. “You’re in my house. Strip.”

He let her pull it over his head, lifting his arms to help as the soft cotton slid up his torso and his muscles flexed under her touch. She brushed her hands down his stomach and watched the way his breath caught when her fingertips ghosted past his waistband.

He worked on the button of his jeans, growling when her hand slipped inside before he could push them down. Her palm found him, hot and straining, and she cupped him fully, feeling him twitch against her skin.

Her eyes flicked up to his, and in that moment, he felt it. The flicker of surprise. The subtle widening of her gaze, like she’d just realized this part of him was still big.

His chest puffed just slightly, and pride flickered behind the hunger in his eyes.

“Surprised, little mate?” he rasped, and his voice tightened as she gave a slow stroke. “Even like this, I can still ruin you.”

And God, he wanted to.

“Lie down,” he muttered with intent. She obeyed, trailing her eyes over his body as he shoved the jeans down, revealing himself, broad, thick, and every inch of him tensed and aching.

He crawled between her legs, pushing her thighs open with a hungry sound in the back of his throat. No teasing smile, no patience in his gaze.

“I want to know what it feels like… like this,” he murmured, ghosting his fingers up her inner thighs. “Want to taste you without the sea on my tongue, without other senses.”

She shifted, but he pressed one large hand to her lower belly, firmly but not harshly. “Be still,” he said, voice low and trembling with control. “Let me learn you this way.”

Then he dipped his head and parted her with his tongue.

His mouth was greedy from the first stroke, his wide tongue dragged through her folds with a growl that vibrated deep into her pussy. He gripped her thighs tightly, pulling her closer, still pressing her belly down with his hand when she tried to arch. “Still,” he reminded, voice half-lost against her skin.

He licked slowly at first, savoring the difference, then faster, sloppier. The flat of his tongue worked her clit, again and again, and when he felt her twitch, he groaned and pushed two fingers inside her, slow but firm.

She gasped, and he felt that. No claws, no careful restraint this time. He could curl and stretch and press into her as deep as he wanted.

His jaw flexed as he fucked her with his fingers, tongue never leaving her. Every moan escaping her lips made his own hips buck down into the mattress, chasing friction like he couldn’t help himself. The rough fabric of the afghan grew damp beneath him, smeared with the thick mess he kept leaking, desperate.

When her thighs trembled and she sobbed his name, he pushed his fingers deeper, held her down firmer, and sucked harder around her clit. She came with a cry, clenching tight, and he groaned against her like it hurt him to feel it: his mouth, his fingers, his cock all aching for her.

But he didn’t move.

He stayed there between her legs, licking up every drop, dazed and possessive in the aftermath. He then rose onto his knees, chest heaving, his face still wet with her pleasure. His eyes -dark, glassy, starving- fixed on her like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Mine,” he rasped.

She barely caught her breath before he pushed her thighs open again and reached for his jeans, shoving them down the rest of the way. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, slick already from how he’d rutted into the afghan. He grunted as he gripped the base, angling it toward her, dragging the head through her folds with a deep, shaking breath.

“You know I understand,” he said low, almost a growl. “I do. I try. But he came here to have you, and you welcomed him in.”

Her hands cupped his face, soft but firmly. “I welcomed him to learn, but I yielded to you.”

That was all it took.

He moved forward, driving into her in one thick, claiming push. She gasped as her body stretched around him, and he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing her in.

“So tight,” he gritted. “So wet for me.”

He started to move with deep thrusts that rocked her under him, gripping her hips with his strong hands, pulling her onto him as much as he pushed forward. His restraint frayed with every sound she made, every flutter of her walls around him. He wasn’t rough yet, but the need gauged at his body with every thrust.

“You were made for me,” he whispered. “Me. No one else. Say it.”

Her palm slid up to his cheek, brushing her thumb just under his eye. “No one else’s,” she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. “Yours.”

A snarl tore from his throat as he pushed forward, wrapping his arms beneath her knees and pressing her thighs up toward her chest. She gasped, but didn’t pull back, and he felt it, that yielding in her body, that aching stretch as he pushed in again.

Deeper now. She was hot and tight and utterly his.

He folded her beneath him, slamming his hips into the cradle of her body, sheating his cock again and again with a ferocity he’d never dared to unleash in his true form. But now, this body could take her without holding back, could give without fear. The wet slap of skin filled the room, raw and primal, and her cries were swallowed by his mouth when he dipped down to kiss her, panting into her lips between thrusts.

She moaned against him, and he answered with a low, hoarse growl.

He shifted his angle, grinding deeply, and a sharp cry escaped her lips. That sound spurred him on, and he rammed in again, rougher, harder, relentless. His grip bruised her thighs as he kept them pinned, opening her wide to every inch of his cock.

The wet slide, the stretch, the heat, it all blurred into sensation. His jaw clenched tight, veins standing out on his neck, as his muscles trembled with the force he poured into her body.

“Say it again,” he panted, voice dark, nearly broken. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Bucky,” she breathed again, wrecked and barely coherent.

That was all it took.

He cursed, snapping his hips forward so brutally that it knocked the air from her lungs. Over and over, he thrust into her, shaking the mattress, shaking her, and all she could do was take it, moaning, trembling, completely at his mercy.

Her body welcomed it, wet and swollen, clenching greedily around him like it knew who he was. What he was.

His mate.

“You were made for me,” he snarled into her throat. “No one else -no one- will ever take you like this.”

He pushed her knees higher, angling deeper, folding her tighther beneath him. She sobbed his name, as her legs trembled in his grip, and her hands scrabbled for purchase across his back, his shoulders, anywhere she could hold on while he took her.

Every muscle in his body was straining, and sweat slicked his skin. He was so close. His hips stuttered for a beat, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not with her looking like that, heavy-lidded eyes, mouth open, hair fanned out wild on the sheets.

Her walls fluttered around him again, and he groaned, raw and desperate. “You gonna come again for me, mate? Let me feel it?”

She nodded -whimpered- and that was enough.

He slammed in, rougher and faster, grunting with each punishing thrust, grinding his pelvic bone against her swollen clit until she broke with a cry, digging her nails into his back, spasming around him. That was it. That was it.

He hissed and growled against her neck as he came, hips jerking out of rhythm, buried so deep he swore he could feel her heartbeat around him. Hot pulses of pleasure wracked his body, thick and heavy as he emptied himself inside her, claiming her all over again.

For a moment, all he could do was breathe -harsh, ragged- and hold her close, with their bodies still tangled, slick and messy and utterly spent.

She was his. Marked and filled and ruined for anyone else.

And he’d never let her forget it.

He stayed there, buried to the hilt, with his chest blanketing her folded body, breathing hotly and unevenly against her skin. Her body was still trembling -tight, spent, and slick beneath him- and he liked it. Liked how full she was. Liked the lazy drip of his seed where they were still connected, sliding warm and slow from where he’d emptied himself into her.

It made something primal in him snarl in satisfaction.

He leaned back just slightly, grasping her hips with his hands to keep her in place, and gazed down at the mess he’d made. Her thighs were marked with faint crescent moons where his fingers had gripped too tightly, and he smoothed over them possessively. Her sex glistened with his spent.

His.

Bucky lowered his mouth and gently sank his teeth into her inner thigh's softness. Not to hurt, just to brand. Just to taste. Her muscles jumped, and her hips gave a little involuntary twitch beneath his weight.

When she squirmed again, shifting like she meant to slide down or straighten out, he just pressed his pelvis more firmly against her, groaning softly as the movement coaxed a lazy twitch from his spent cock still nestled inside her.

No. Not yet. He liked this.

Liked her folded beneath him, open, yielding. Her skin heated and damp, her scent thick in the air, her breathing shallow. She felt so his like this. So utterly owned. He could do it again. Could flip her, press her into the mattress from behind, and take her like he’d seen some of the inland animals rut, gripping her hips and-

“I’m starting to not feel my legs, darling,” she murmured, hoarsely but teasing, her chuckle was a warm flutter against his throat.

It broke the trance.

He let out a huff of laughter, gruff and sheepish, then kissed the bite mark he’d left on her thigh. One last gentle nip for good measure before he finally -finally-eased out of her, careful even if he didn’t want to be. Not really.

He didn’t go far. Just enough to let her stretch out again, to rub the feeling back into her calves with his big hands while murmuring something low, half-feral, half-affectionate, against her skin.

But even then, his body was ready again.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

He should’ve been sated. By all logic -by how hard he came, how thoroughly he took her- his body should’ve been spent.

But it wasn’t.

He looked at her, splayed and soft, dreamy with satisfaction and leaking his seed down the swell of her thighs… and he throbbed with need all over again.

In his true form, it would take time. Her body would be too sore, too stretched. He’d need to soothe her, let her rest, cool the fever in his blood with a swim or a hunt beside her ministrations.

But this form… this dull, dry, two-legged skin… it was weak in many ways. Yet here he was, already hardening again, marveling at how her body didn’t seem to resist him.

Didn’t ache. Didn’t tremble too much. Just lay there, warm and willing.

Bucky leaned close, mouthing kisses between her breasts, then coaxed her with large, careful hands. A gentle tap to her hip. A nudge.

“Turn for me,” he murmured.

She gave a lazy, breathless chuckle, not opening her eyes. “What are you doing?”

He clicked his teeth right beside her ear and growled, “What does it seem I’m doing, mate?”

She let him guide her languidly, as he helped her roll onto her belly. He kissed down the curve of her back, dragging her hips up into place, then sat back on his knees to take in the sight.

Gods.

Her rear was high, thighs parted, and his seed a slow, glistening thread on her skin. His jaw flexed, a hunger flaring hot through his core. This view… this view would have killed him in the sea.

He shifted closer, guiding the head of his cock against her entrance, notching himself into place. The angle was different. New. Promising. He gripped her hips tighter.

And pushed in. Slow, savoring the slick resistance, the tight draw of her walls as she gasped and braced her hands against the mattress. The angle let him sink deeper -fuller- and he growled at the sensation, at how perfectly her body received him again.

Her thighs quivered. Her back arched.

“Fuck, Bucky-”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled out partway and slammed back in, snapping his hips forward with a wet slap. Her cry turned into a moan, as she clawed at the covers with her hands.

“This-” she gasped, barely able to get her breath between the hard rhythm he set. “Ah- where did you learn-”

“Dogs,” he grunted, leaning over her back, biting lightly at her shoulder. “In the summer.”

She let out something between a laugh and a whimper, as her body jolted forward when he thrusted particularly hard.

“This is -oh my god- mortifying.”

“You don’t seem mortified,” he growled, slapping into her again, making the mattress groan beneath them.

He was relentless now, driving into her, dragging her back with his hands into every thrust, mouth open against her spine, her nape, the curve of her shoulder. The scent of her arousal, his seed, her sweat, clung to their skin and flooded his senses. And she was dripping for him, making a mess of her thighs, the bedding, his cock.

“Mine,” he snarled into her skin, losing himself all over again in her warmth, her submission, the fact that she let him have her like this. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” she choked out, her breath catching as he rutted into her harder, rougher, almost punishing. “No one else’s. Yours.”

He buried himself to the hilt, growling loud enough that it vibrated against her back. “That’s right. Mine. My mate.”

He bent over her, flattening her to the mattress, heaving his chest against her back as he rolled his hips in tight, relentless thrusts, grinding his pelvis into her ass at the end of every push. Her thighs trembled. Her hands fisted the sheets.

The slick slap of skin against skin echoed between them, his heavy balls smacking against her clit with every drag and surge of his cock. She was soaked, dripping down her thighs, down his length, and every time he bottomed out, his seed leaked around the base of his cock and made a filthy, wet mess of them both.

She whimpered something that might’ve been his name. Or maybe just a sound, raw and mindless.

He bit her shoulder again. Not hard, not breaking skin. Just enough to state a claim.

“You feel this?” he snarled into her ear, rutting deeper, as if he could crawl into her body and stay inside her. “You feel how full you are with me, mate? This is what happens when another man thinks he can come near you. You get bred.”

She sobbed out a noise, clenching around him like her body couldn’t help it, and he lost it again.

His rhythm faltered, thrusts turning erratic. Her body milked him, needy and greedy, and he pushed in one last time with a guttural moan as he came in hot pulses, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades, and his knuckles turning white while he gripped her hips.

He stayed there, panting hard against her sweat-damp skin, unmoving. Then, slowly, he let out a small groan and nuzzled her back, still buried to the root. Still thick and throbbing inside her.

She gave a tiny, dazed laugh. “Starting to not feel my legs again.”

He grunted. Didn’t move.

His hips gave the smallest twitch, already tempted again.

----

She lay sprawled over his chest, with her limbs draped boneless across his body like she’d melted there. Bucky was flat on his back, looking at the ceiling, as the rise and fall of his chest finally slowed.

"So- um," she began, her voice a little raspy from all the moaning and whining. "I take it you enjoyed doing it as a human?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her even closer, as if he still didn’t want to let her go. Then he let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes.

“It’s different,” he admitted. “It’s not- I can’t feel the same. Not like when I can taste you with my limbs. And the movements are limited.”

She tipped her head to look up at him, already smiling when he cracked one eye open to meet her gaze.

“But,” he went on, voice rough and low, “I don’t have to restrain myself like this. I don’t have to worry if I’ll break you. Or hurt you. I can be freer with what I want to do.”

“Well, look at that,” she murmured, with a teasing grin. “A positive thing you found for this form.”

“Also,” he added, giving her ass a firm squeeze, “I can finally do it all the times I want.”

She laughed against his chest, drawing idle patterns along the ridged scars scattered on his skin. “Speaking of that…”

Her finger stilled.

“You, um- don’t have a refractory period as a human?”

He frowned instantly, wrinkling his nose, clearly not liking the lack of something in the sexual department. “What is that?”

“Usually once you, erm, come… generally men have a period when they can’t get hard again. Could be minutes, could be hours.”

He made a thoughtful little grunt and turned his eyes back to the ceiling. “Don’t know. Never done this in this form before.”

But the smile that pulled at his mouth was anything but uncertain. It was smug. Lazy. Entirely satisfied. “Doesn’t seem like I need to worry about my aptitude, though.”

She groaned and hid her face in his chest.

He chuckled low and rough, clearly far too pleased with himself.

“It's not that bad,” he muttered, waving one hand in the air to gesture at the room. “This.”

She lifted her head just enough to watch his face.

“Still feels… weird. Incomplete.” His voice dropped as he exhaled. “But not like it did before.”

Her smile was soft, a little crooked. “You’re saying that because you got to have a lot of sex.”

He scowled. “I’m a healthy male with a mate. Of course I’ll have urges.”

“Hey,” she chuckled, “don’t pout. I was messing with you. I wasn’t criticizing.”

She brought her hand to his cheek, trailing the scruff along his jaw. “I’m glad you told me that. Makes me happy… that you don’t hate my world. That you’re more comfortable in it now.”

His expression softened slowly under her touch. His brow unfurrowed, though his mouth still held the hint of a sulk.

“I don’t hate it,” he said. “Did. For a long time.”

He looked around her room again. The pale morning was creeping in under the curtains. Her yarn stash, the quiet tick of the old wall clock in the living room. The calm.

“But not anymore,” he finished, his voice quieter now. “It’s still strange. But it’s where you are. That makes it… tolerable.”

She gave a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “High praise.”

“It is,” he insisted, though his tone was gentler now.

Then, after a beat, he added: “And the sex helps.”

That earned him a smack on the chest, and her laughter muffled against his skin.

She shifted a little, still tracing lazy circles near one of the older scars. The silence had turned warm and sleepy, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the old house.

“So, now that Chris won’t be coming to class anymore, I assume you lost the reason to check in or see how things are going.” She didn’t expect him to answer, not right away.

“What if I wanted to learn?”

That made her lift her head, arching her brows. “Wait. You? Crochet?”

He avoided her gaze, fixing his eyes on the ceiling with seriousness. “Seems interesting,” he muttered. “To create instead of destroying.”

That sobered her smile just a little.

“So it’s not so trifling, then?”

He turned his head to squint at her. “I already apologized about that.”

“I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up again,” she said gently, brushing her fingers through his hair at the temple. “Old habit. I’ll stop poking at you.”

He gave a grunt that meant he’d let it slide.

Then she added, softer, “I can teach you, if you want.”

He didn’t answer with words, just let his hand drift across her back in silent agreement. When he finally spoke, it was almost shy, which startled her more than any growl or sharp retort.

“Wouldn’t mind making something that’s only mine. That stays mine.”

“Right,” she murmured, her cheek still resting against his chest. “You told me your kind doesn’t really do possessions.”

He shifted a little under her, like he was debating whether to speak. Finally, he murmured, “I... I have some.”

That made her lift her head again with curiosity. “Really? What is it?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, slipping his gaze sideways toward the wall. “The… things you crafted me.”

Her heart nearly flipped in her chest. “Oh, Bucky. I thought you’d thrown them away,” she said softly. “Or that maybe they were ruined by the salt water.”

He shook his head once, firmly. “Hung them. In one of the cave’s alcoves. High up where they won’t get wet.”

A beat passed, and her smile widened. “That’s so romantic.”

He grunted. “Didn’t do it to be romantic.”

“I know,” she teased, leaning to kiss his cheek. “That’s what makes it romantic.”

He grumbled under his breath, but his arm curled tighter around her.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, absentmindedly. “I have to do some errands before the stores close,” she said. “Do you wanna come, or are you returning to the shore?”

That soured his expression immediately. His gaze narrowed slightly, and his mouth twisted as he pulled back just enough to look at her properly. Before he could speak, she added quickly, “Or you can wait here while I do them.”

“There is another option,” he muttered.

She arched a brow. “The things I need don’t do delivery,” she said, cutting him off before he could scheme.

“Don’t know what that is, and don’t care,” he grumbled.

His hand was already cupping her breast, circling her nipple with a slow, deliberate pressure of his thumb. “What if I make sure you’re so tired you can’t even walk out the door? Then you’ll stay here. With me. In your nest.”

“Bucky!” she laughed, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“Are those errands essential?” he asked, voice low near her ear. “Is it food you lack? Medicine?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then they can wait,” he said, far too pleased with himself.

She gave him a look. One that was supposed to be firm, unamused. But her breath caught when his mouth brushed softly down her neck, and his thumb flicked over her nipple just a little harder this time.

“Bucky,” she tried again, more of a sigh now than a protest. “I have things to do…”

“Mhm.” His lips trailed lower, leaving a wet, warm path across her chest. “Like staying in bed. Resting. Letting me take care of you.” His tongue circled her nipple now, slowly and reverent, then sucked it gently into his mouth.

She gasped, “I mean it.”

“You say that,” he murmured against her skin, “but you’re not stopping me.”

She huffed a soft laugh, arching into his mouth. “I was trying to.”

“Try harder, mate,” he challenged, grinning against her breast. Then he switched sides, giving the other the same attention, greedy, focused, as though he’d missed them terribly in the short span since he last worshipped her.

She could feel him hard again, pressing against her thigh. Her legs shifted slightly, just enough to part for him, to welcome him without a single word.

He caught the motion, and his eyes darkened as a crooked smirk tugged at his lips.

“Thought so,” he murmured.

And as his mouth found hers again, slow and claiming, the rest of the world -the errands, the daylight, the clock ticking somewhere in the distance- ceased to matter. Nothing mattered but the warmth of the sheets tangled around their legs and the thrum of her heart syncing to the rhythm he wove between their bodies.

FIN

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira @lazyneonrabbitt @vxllys @namjoohnie @sebastians-love @misspendragonsworld @thewriters64 @escapefromrealitylol @hi172826 @wintrsoldrluvr @reddesires @ruexj283 @buckvoidsyy @littlesuniee @kimberly-stocks @pandaxnienke @ladypncl @homiesexuallaj @kulteule @awesompawsum @killerwendigo @princessgriffin1998 @helen-2003 @nynxtea @alagalaska @maryevm @kittieboo @otterlycanadian @queergalpal97 @gentlelimerence @moogles93 @tentacle-priestess @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @lemonylover

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

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pinkaditty · 5 months ago

Text

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’.

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor.

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year.

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care.

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for.

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself.

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating.

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts.

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it.

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it.

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit.

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste.

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?”

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break.

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment.

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves.

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth.

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots.

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away.

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast.

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him.

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks.

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato.

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?”

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back.

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk.

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself.

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last.

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while.

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once.

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now.

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite.

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back.

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it.

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in.

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned.

By god, you are never getting that scarf back.

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

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a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

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fictioninmyblood · 1 year ago

Text

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N.

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged.

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in your time. She’s been far more patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive.

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked.

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own.

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised.

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member.

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out.

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him. Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?”

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.”

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely.

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted.

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

#erik killmonger #erik kilmonger x reader #Erik killmonger x black!reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther #erik stevens #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik stevens x reader #fictioninmybloodworks #fictioninmyblood #erik stevens x black!reader

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nina-ya · 7 months ago

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Queen of the Night

A/N: I have always wanted to do something like this ever since I discovered Oda associates Law with this flower so here!!! Pairing: Law x reader CW: backstory spoilers if you squint its like super vague tho • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It happens so rarely that you sometimes forget what it feels like. Law is a man of barriers built so high that you’ve lost count of the layers. And yet, Law, the Queen of the Night, blooms ever so rarely for you, and his guard falls. It’s never when you expect it. It could be at moments when the moon is at its highest and you two are sitting in comfortable silence, or it could be when the sun kisses your skin as you explore an island with the crew. Small and elusive moments, so fragile that you almost fear that they aren’t real.

“Have I told you about my parents?” There it is. The blooming of the flower that only dares to show its beauty in the most scarce moments.

It’s the kind of sentence that hands in the air suspended in time. You blink and your breath catches in your throat because you know better than to ask questions when it comes to him. You know that if you prod or push too hard, he’ll retreat back into that shell he’s so used to hiding in.

So you wait.

Law’s eyes are fixed on some distant point off across the room, as though he is seeing the very manifestation of something that no longer exists.

“They were good people. Doctors. Believed in saving lives… even when the world told them it was pointless.”

There’s a bitterness in his words that you can feel deep in your chest. He’s not talking about the heroism of their profession- no, this is something darker, something heavy that sits on his shoulders and is weighing heavily on him.

You stay silent, giving him space. You watch as the flower opens slowly, petal by petal, revealing its delicate center only when it feels safe.

“They didn’t deserve what happened to them,” he continues, voice cracking in a way that you know he wouldn’t allow on any other occasion. It’s a sound that feels too raw, too real, for someone of his nature.

His hand twitches against his leg, the muscle tensing as if fighting back the urge to hold something that isn’t there anymore. You want to reach out and touch him, but something holds you back. Not fear, no, but respect. You understand that these moments are a gift, and you don't show him pity or try to interrupt him, you just let him open up on his own accord.

“And when they died- my parents… sister… everyone…” He swallows, throat tightening as he struggles to get the words out. “I fell into a very dark place. One that I am not sure I have completely gotten away from.”

His words are jagged, straight from the depths of his soul and you wonder just how long he’s carried all of this with him, letting it fester in his mind waiting to be told to those who are patient enough to wait for him to be ready to say such things.

“What happened during that darkness- the man who brought me out of it…” he pauses once more, taking a shaky breath. “He’s the reason why I am doing all of this. He’s why I am even here.”

You don’t dare ask for details of the savior he speaks of, knowing that he will tell you when he’s ready. Tonight might not be the night, but you have already accepted that you won’t be getting all the details, but rather just a few pieces of the puzzle of his past that you ought to put together over time.

The flower will soon close again by morning and Law will soon put back up those walls, locking himself away for the unforeseeable future. So you savor what little time you have watching him blossom. You feel a sense of honor knowing that he trusts you enough to let you see this side of him, even if it’s just for tonight.

And even when the flower of his heart begins to close, you know deep down that it will bloom again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But it will. And when it does, you’ll be right there, waiting, just like you are tonight.

Because that’s what it means to love him. To be patient. To wait. And to cherish every moment that the Queen of the Night blooms for you.

#nina writes~✦#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #x reader

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borderlinereminders · 1 year ago

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They left you on read, and now you feel like spiraling. So the question is, what do you do? I want to specify that for this post, I am talking about pre-established friendships.

First of all, stop and take a breath if you can. A lot of times, we have urges to spam message someone, or send messages asking if they still care about us, or even urges to be passive aggressive because we feel hurt. This can damage your relationships though. If you are struggling with urges, please read about Urge Surfing. The goal of urge surfing is to "ride the wave" of an urge. Another suggestion I have is to try some grounding exercises to pull yourself out.

In most cases, being left on read does not equal rejection, even though it can feel that way. The next thing to do is to find an alternate reason they might not be responding. Here is a list of possible reasons here, but keep in mind that there are numerous other reasons that are not on this list. People have downtime sometimes, but it doesn't mean they want to fill that downtime with talking to people. Even people who are important to them. And that's okay. It doesn't mean they care about you any less.

If you are feeling rejected, challenge those thoughts. I personally keep screenshots from my loved ones that tell me they love me that I can read back when I need a reminder. I also keep a list of things they've done that show me they love me. Here's a post on challenging thoughts.

The next thing I recommend doing is to focus on distraction. A really great skill for that is ACCEPTS. Here's a write up on that here.

Below the read more is some stuff for some long-term coping/communication. It can totally be skipped though if you were just looking to get through an immediate situation.

Sometimes, greater communication might be needed. While no one owes you unlimited access to them, it might be good to set up plans with people who may feel too drained to talk (possibly for days on end), or even friends that may open a notification and then get distracted and forget to reply (and no, this doesn't mean they don't care about you.)

In the first case, it's so valid to feel drained from talking to people. And while people are allowed to take space they need, sometimes it can be a lot for us if it's going on multiple days. It is possible to find compromise. For example, I have one friend who feels insecure if I go a few days without talking to them. For us, we've established a specific emoticon that I can send that says "Hey, it's not you at all. I just am not up to talking right now." I send the emoticon if it's going on a couple days because I don't want to leave them hanging.

For the second case, someone forgetting, in situations like this it might be good to establish beforehand what an acceptable amount of time is before you can send a follow up nudge. While my best friend and I talk a lot, sometimes she forgets to do stuff that we need for the business we run together. We've discussed that it's okay for me to nudge her once a day because she does genuinely forget.

There are also different rules for different friendships. For example, my best friend is allowed to absolutely spam me. The messages can be related or not. But we've established that it's okay if I'm not up to answering, and in this specific friendship, it doesn't drain me if she messages multiple times because there is no pressure on my end to respond.

Either way, it's okay to talk to your friends about situations like this. Is there an acceptable amount of time they're okay with you sending a follow up message? Is it okay if they aren't up to replying to your message, but have the energy to send you an emoticon or even a picture of their pet without responding to the actual message? (Sometimes I have the energy to share memes, or pet pics, but don't have the mental energy to answer a bigger question, and my friends know and are okay with me coming back to the question later while continuing on the conversation in other ways.) If they frequently go quiet because of their mental health, is there a compromise for both of you? Sometimes, it isn't even about our insecurity but that (especially with online friends) we may be concerned for their well-being and would like an indicator they're okay.

Remember that sometimes friendships aren't compatible, and it isn't a reflection on either of you. But if your friend isn't able to compromise and you feel constantly stressed/worried, then maybe the friendship isn't compatible. And that's okay! It's okay to need to walk away from a friendship even if someone hasn't actually done something "wrong."

A lot of my anxiety about being left on read went away as I worked on my own healing and coping. I used to make my life all about my relationships, and I'd feel lost if I was alone. It took me a long time for me to find an identity outside of other people, and it was so worth doing.

#my post #relationship advice

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cultofdixon · 1 year ago

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Little one had other plans

Rick Grimes • She/Her Pronouns • Timing is never perfect when it comes to babies coming into the world. Rick just wished the group wasn’t…homeless when his baby decided to make an entrance • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Anxiety / Unbearable pain

A/N: Really bare with me and TWD timeline

Requested by: Anon

“Rick?” Her voice brought the retired sheriff out of his slumber as he carefully sits up from their shared bed.

“Yes darling?” Rick smiles moving aside for Y/N to sit with him as she instantly locked their arms bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright? Missed yea this morning”

“Uhm. I know we just…hitched and we didn’t talk about certain things especially given it’s the apocalypse and Lori but…”

“Y/N. Please just say it”

“I’m pregnant”

Rick’s silence only brewed the fear and anxiety within Y/N as she was about to pull away when he shifted so that he could pull her entire person into his embrace.

“Are you upset?” Y/N frowns holding onto her husband as he started to rub soothing circles on her back feeling her relax. “Rick—-“

“We’re just…so in love with each other that we couldn’t contain it all.” Rick whispers feeling her tighten around him as he did the same. “So we made another person out of that love” he held her as she sobbed in his embrace.

“We’re happy about this?”

“More than happy darling. We’re safe here. I can’t wait for this chapter with you” Rick smiles bringing his lips to her temple keeping her close as the two wouldn’t separate for a while longer.

But the luxury of the prison never lasted…

When Rick reunited with Daryl on the road, after dealing with the claimers…the archer brought it up. Brought up the thought that Y/N could be dead and being met with Rick’s silence was his answer meaning he didn’t want to even think about it.

“We’ll find’em.” Daryl states watching Rick turn to him slowly with a low expression before looking away. “She’s a fighter. May be the size of a planet currently but you know she ain’t leavin’ this earth without fighting to get back to you”

“Did yea just call my wife a planet?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Just shut up and let’s follow the train tracks once Michonne and Carl got some rest”

We will find them

And they do. Thankfully not in the mess of Terminus and Rick was extra thankful after hearing a few things about the cannibals that quickly met their end in the chapel later on.

The Grimes boys will forever be thankful to Tyreese with saving Judith and for both him and Carol finding Y/N moments after the two had found each other. Rick handed his daughter to his son quickly but gentle for Carl to get a good hold of her before he ran over to his partner bringing her in his embrace.

“Thank god you’re alive” Y/N sobbed out as she held onto Rick the best she could given the space they didn’t have. Rick pulled away from the embrace to kiss her firmly on the lips before bringing his gaze to her belly and placing his hands on it. “That’s also a bonus…”

“What? The baby kicking?” Rick asks while his gaze still focused on her bump.

“Yeah…Baby hasn’t kicked since the prison fell. Guess it missed its daddy” She breathed out a laugh listening to his follow in suit. He pressed his forehead against hers still staying in this moment as no one dared to interrupt.

The cannibals

The hospital

Beth…

Tyreese…

So many things could’ve been avoided and now the remaining group found themselves struggling with the fact that this could be the end if they don’t find anything. By anything the essentials for survival. Daryl did his best to hunt what he could find but nothing was turning up. The creek within the forest didn’t carry enough water like they hoped when they first planned to check. But Rosita boiled what they could draw up and insisted it be given to Y/N which the peanut gallery didn’t protest.

“Rick we need to prepare for the worse cause scenario” Carol pulled him aside as the group continued its tiresome walk to nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

“She could go into labor. She is that pregnant where it could just happen without any of us prepared. We need to at least somewhat be”

“Or what?”

Carol didn’t say another word and only gave her friend a stressful look littered with fear of losing Y/N to this pregnancy like they did with Lori’s. They wouldn’t know what to do if Y/N needed a c-section or if she lost a lot of blood. Anything could happen and it didn’t take words for Rick to know he could lose the love of his life.

________

Y/N laid tiredly on the makeshift bed in their shared cell as she hasn’t been able to keep anything down for a few weeks. Typical morning sickness but Hershel had his worry about dehydration, not like Carl hasn’t been hovering making sure his stepmom had water. Rick asked him to keep an eye on her and his baby sister when he tended the garden but he didn’t need to be asked to do such. The two grew close when Lori passed and if she would do anything for Carl, he’d do anything for her.

“If your dad is making you hover. You don’t have to” Y/N said almost exhausted as she sat up in the bed when Carl was once peaking from the curtain now fully entering the cell with another canteen.

“Dad didn’t tell me anything. I’m allowed to check on you if I want to”

“I should be checking on you. You don’t have to worry about me” She states patting the empty space beside her while moving the blankets to cover her legs. “I’m okay”

“I know…b-but I want to…I don’t want to miss anything”

Y/N gave him a confused look gently making Carl look at her as he tried to cover his face with his hat. But then Y/N took his hat off lifting his chin to find his tears.

“Carl…love, what’s wrong?”

“I-I…” Carl choked up a bit feeling Y/N carefully wipe away his tears whenever they spilled from his waterline. “I don’t want to lose you too. I didn’t see…a-anything before and I just—-“

“Carl. We couldn’t have predicted what happened to your mom to have happen and I’m always so deeply sorry you lost her.” Y/N gently held his face feeling him ease into her touch letting her wipe away his tears. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but I will promise you. I’m going to be okay”

“But you can’t…you can’t promise something like that”

“I’m going to anyway. I’m going to take good care of myself and this baby, knowing damn well my boys are going to help me. I’m not going anywhere love…I’m going to be okay”

________

Something didn’t feel right.

Y/N had tried not to think much of the growing pain in her stomach as she thought it was the lack of food in her system or the mild dehydration she was reaching.

Then when the mysterious water appeared and the debate of drinking such was washed away in the little sense of the rain pouring down on them. Her distressed expression matched those who’ve lost since the fall of the prison hence no one second guessed the feelings. Until Carl took note of it.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little uncomfortable. Keep her covered or she’ll get a cold” Y/N fixed the coat she was once wearing to cover Judith better as Carl took his hat off to cover her head.

“Are you really sure that’s all mo—-Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m—-“ She stopped herself reaching for Rick grabbing his bicep harshly to indicate how much pain she was in as he quickly addressed the matter bringing her close. “R-Rick I think. I think the baby is coming”

“Well that couldn’t have been poorly timed” Eugene commented only for Abraham to smack him upside the head. “You have any better idea where the pregnant woman should have her baby? In the middle of the road with the rain pouring down on us and unable to see the walkers when nightfall approaches”

“Someone shut his mouth” Rick snapped watching Glenn push Eugene out of the Grimes’ line of sight as Abraham and Rosita blocked his view.

“Nah we got somewhere. Saw a barn on my way back to y’all after searching for water” Daryl states before leading the way as Rick didn’t hesitate to pick up his partner bridal style following the archer along with the others following shortly behind.

Once they got in the barn, everything had to happen again. Going in all different directions. Maggie and Carol took care of getting Y/N situated, prepared while Carl took care of watching Judith while the others swarmed respectfully on the other side of the half wall to give Y/N some privacy while she stripped from the waist down.

“Tell me how you’re feeling. Especially if there’s major changes” Carol stated watching Y/N nod trying to take deep breaths feeling Rick gently brush the hair out of the way of her face watching her look at him through anxious tears.

“Your baby will come perfect okay, okay? Nothing wrong will happen” Maggie’s choice of words confused those who weren’t there when they lost Lori, and especially how they lost her. No one questioned. All the focus was making sure that baby comes out okay while protecting everybody.

It felt like a cue. When the walkers came a banging on the barn doors resulting in almost every muscle they’ve got keeping them closed, Y/N was already in the motions of pushing this baby out only for a smooth sailing to reach a jammed complication.

“H-Hurts. Hurts so much!” Y/N shouted as the growling tuned it out except for Maggie and Carol’s ears as they both were checking what is happening. The baby’s shoulder is stuck and in a perfect world they’d have the tools or the operating room to go to that nuclear option of a c-section. Something they didn’t want to do.

“Y/N you have to stop pushing”

“O-O…I…” Y/N sobbed listening to Carol’s words as she gripped onto the blanket she laid on not finding the words to ask for her husband but the anxiety growing in the situation made Maggie shout.

“Rick we need yea!” That caused a few head turns as the pounding shifted the weaker few against the door.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Rick instantly asks, taking Y/N’s hand into his feeling the bone crushing grip she was producing as he kept his ground a straight face for her.

“Baby is stuck”

“I have a plan but if it doesn’t go well, we could lose them both” Maggie frowns, remembering an old conversation back from the prison with her father about breached babies and if it ever happened to her then one would have to reach into her while another pushed down on her belly to help the baby progress.

“Take me through it. We’ve got this” Carol states turning to Y/N and her worried expression. “Scream. Scream it out. Everybody’s got our back and you will make it. You both will make it”

The growling grew louder along with the blood curdling screaming as Michonne brought Carl into her arms covering his ears while the two kept their ground against the door. He sobbed listening to his mom’s screaming and those from the beginning of the prison sanctuary were all feeling the old anxiety bubble up inside them.

But once it settled…the growling faded and the anxiety dissipated…the screaming stopped…

Rick pressed his lips to Y/N’s feeling the tears roll off his cheeks as he pulls away to look at their baby boy laying on her chest calming instantly to the soft touch his mother brought with the finger grazes.

“He’s perfect…”

“You did it, darling” Rick exhales a chuckle, kissing her forehead and bringing her close keeping his coat to cover their baby keeping him comfortable in her arms.

“We’re okay” Y/N felt the tears pour as she laughs the anxiety out bringing her gaze to her son when he brought himself to look at his brother. “We are okay, like I promised”

Carl felt the tears return in his eyes as Y/N tiredly reaches to wipe away his tears. Rick smiles at the gentle act admiring his little family as he made this declaration a long time ago…

But he’ll never let anything happen to his family.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes fanfiction

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messedchords · 3 months ago

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Unseen and Unheard // Bodhi Durran x Reader

AN: More bodhi and more angstI need to write a part two cause how dare I leave bodhi sad

part 2

masterlist

He was late—again.

Your fingers drummed against the stone railing, frustration gnawing at you. You had tried to understand, tried to be patient, but the constant feeling of being second place in his life was starting to wear thin.

The low sound of footsteps reached your ears, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was—tall, rugged, and always so damn consumed by everything but you. His dark eyes met yours, and the usual warmth you’d grown to expect from him seemed absent tonight.

"Bodhi," you started, your voice sharper than you'd intended. "You’re late."

Bodhi’s eyes flitted around, not meeting yours directly. "I got caught up doing something for Xaden. I’m sorry, okay?" He ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression unreadable.

"That’s always your excuse, Bodhi." You took a step toward him, heart pounding. "I get it—you’re his cousin. You have responsibilities. But I’m tired of being the last thing on your list." Your words came out in a rush, the anger that had been building up over the past few weeks bubbling to the surface.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden burst. "You know I can’t just drop everything for—"

"No, I don’t know," you interrupted, voice rising. "I don’t know why you never have time for me. You’ve been buried in your duties, your missions, keeping watch of violet, your training. And I’m still here, hoping for just a moment of your attention, but it never comes." Your chest tightened, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

Bodhi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away, the tension too thick to cut through. But instead, he took a step toward you, his voice low. "I’m doing my best. What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to prioritize me for once. To show me that I matter," you shot back, the words stinging both of you. "I’m not asking for all your time. Just some."

Bodhi exhaled sharply, his hands rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn’t think this was something I had to explain to you. I—"

"You didn’t think it was important to explain? To show me?" you cut in, the hurt and frustration finally breaking through.

His eyes softened, but the tension in his shoulders remained. "You know what it’s like, don’t you? The weight of this responsibility. It’s not just about me, or what I want. There are people counting on me. Lives are at stake. I can’t just walk away when there’s work to be done."

You shook your head, fighting back the sting of tears. "I know what it’s like, Bodhi. I understand that there are other things, bigger things. But I’m tired of being invisible. Of feeling like I’m the one who has to wait while everyone else takes priority."

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. His gaze fell to the ground, and you watched the conflict play out on his face. The realization hit you that he was never going to fully understand how you felt. His world had always been one of duty and sacrifice—one where love was a luxury, not a need.

Finally, he looked back up at you, his expression vulnerable, raw. "I don’t know what to do. I’m not good at this, at balancing everything. But I’m trying, okay? I am trying.”

You could hear the honesty in his voice, but the distance between you felt like an insurmountable chasm.

"I know," you whispered, a mixture of sadness and acceptance in your voice. "But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still standing here, alone, waiting for you to see me."

The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words. For a moment, you both just stood there, neither knowing what to do next. The space between you felt too large, but neither of you moved to close it.

Finally, Bodhi took a tentative step forward. "I don’t want to lose you," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You sighed, feeling a knot loosen in your chest. "Then show me that I’m worth it."

Bodhi nodded, looking as if he might finally understand. "I will. I’ll try harder. I promise."

The evening air was cool now, I turned to him one last time. “ I guess we will see” And left him standing on the balcony.

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #onyx storm #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran

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ace-and-the-rpg-horrors · 10 months ago

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i doubt that Arata's going to make any major appearances now, but i think it would be so funny if VBS starts travelling and he is made to supervise them, because Ken is busy and tells the kids, "sorry, i am not trusting you guys by yourselves abroad in a million years." so he calls up Arata, since he's travelled before (to America)

Arata is like "yeah, sure. how hard could it be?"

about everything that could go wrong goes wrong.

in the middle of the night, they were all meant to meet at WEG, from where Ken would drive them to the airport. all of them except Toya forgot at least one thing at home and had to go all the way back to retrieve it.

Arata ordered a cup of strong coffee while they all waited for An to come back after running up to her room for the sixteenth time.

at security, An, Akito and Arata seem to accidentally create a "whose jewellery can set off the metal detector more" competition. Toya is highly disappointed in Akito. and just before the trip, Emu had given Kohane a tiny little robot that has recorded messages from all of W x S, to remember them by while she's away!! so cute!!

it gets Kohane pulled away to be searched.

not even anything dodgy in it, it's just as if the machines could detect the Made In Rui Kamishiro's Room essence. Kohane was terrified. it took Arata, Akito and Toya to hold An back from fighting security and getting them all arrested. Rui woke up at home a few hours later to fifty missed calls from Akito, An and the airline.

Arata bought another coffee at duty free afterwards.

oh, and since i'm silly about my headcanon of Iori and Arata being twins, STANDOUT happens to be doing a world tour at the same time. Arata prayed he would not see his sister at the airport. he is not God's favourite. she sees him struggling with the kids and immediately takes the piss. he retorts that he hopes her plane crashes. nearly gets jumped by the other band members (minus Mio)

he needed two coffees to recover from that.

Kohane is super excited about taking as many photos as she can while in the airport, wanting to capture everything. Arata sees her struggling with holding the camera while dragging her suitcase and decides to be nice, offering to hold it. she accidentally calls him nii-san and he feels joy for the first time, thinking that maybe it's all worth it. which is very quickly dissolved when An takes him holding Kohane's bag as an invitation to drop her bag on him ("cheers, Arata!!"), followed by Akito. Toya tries to scold them and help carry all the things, though sheepishly finds that he does not have the strength to.

"why the fuck do i bother." ~ Arata Tono, 2024, on his fifth coffee.

Arata gets a call from Souma checking up on him and is so relieved that he's positively beaming (and maybe even tearing up) while he walks away to answer.

"ehhh, he hasn't smiled at us like that all night, even though we've been so good!!" ~ An. she and Akito tease the hell out of his relationship with Souma when he returns.

while waiting to board the plane, he has to deal with standing next to a bickering An and Akito, the sleepiness starting to really get to the both of them, making them more snappy. Toya is starting to really realise that flights involve... heights. and is staring into space while having a silent panic attack. Kohane unintentionally wanders off to go take more photos, nearly giving Arata a heart attack when he thinks he's lost her. or that might've just been the caffeine.

he is unable to buy another cup of coffee at this time.

the second Arata gets into his plane seat, he goes "do not talk to me" to all of them and immediately falls asleep. some poor flight attendant has to shake him awake to ask him to put his belt on because he'd forgotten. he starts sobbing right then and there.

he gets to order his now hourly coffee from that same flight attendant a bit later.

he tries to drift off once more, though is awoken again, this time by poor Toya in the middle seat digging his fingernails into both his and Akito's arms from fear, like a cat, while the plane takes off.

Arata downs some more coffee and reflects every one of his life's decisions while his arm is taken hostage.

An, who is much too peppy at this sort of hour, in Arata's opinion, reaches across the aisle every ten minutes to shake his free arm and ask "are we there yet??" so he makes Toya keep an eye on how many exact miles away they are and regularly report it to her, to both distract him from the height and satisfy An's curiosity.

when they arrive at their destination, VBS is ecstatic. Arata promptly goes to his room in the hotel and passes out for about twelve hours.

he gets offered coffee during breakfast and feels sick at the thought... before remembering that he's with this lot for a good few days and quickly accepts.

#“Arata develops a caffeine addiction” - the event #fun fact *i* was shaken awake by a flight attendant once. so embarrassing #this is so stupid #ace's random thoughts :)#project sekai #pjsk #arata tono #kohane azusawa #an shiraishi #akito shinonome #toya aoyagi #rui kamishiro #vivid bad squad #vbs #vivibasu

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simp-ly-writes · 10 months ago

Text

The Bodyguard

─────── · · THE GENTLEMEN (2024)

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Edward "Eddie" Horniman x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your parents decide with your recent party-heavy behaviour that you are in need of an adult babysitter- or as they call it a bodyguard.

─ · · WARNINGS: contract relationship, child neglect, anxiety attacks, overall angst with fluff

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,112

─ · · A/N: Find it funny how many posts I see complain about "small fandoms" then you have The Gentlemen (2024). I need more people to talk to about this show...

─────── · ·

Up until now, you were always by yourself. In school you struggled to make friends and the few that you still kept in contact with were set with quarterly interactions. The large house you resided in empty besides the few staff that maintained the estate- they were disgusted by the lifestyle you lived- or rather, how they thought you lived.

You got used to not having your parents home, on having no one to ask you how your day went, if you ate that night and what your plans were later that week. The statue collection soon became your greatest confidants, the gallery your absolute favourite room to take lunch in beside the garden when the weather was acceptable.

In all the assets you held, the clothes all still new with tags on in the closet, the endless rows of wine bottles in the basement that your teenage self drowned in and the hedge maze you lost yourself in even when knowing where every exit and secret nook and cranny of. It was plastic happiness, just shiny objects staring back at you and reflecting upon yourself.

You tried to loose yourself in the high life just as every other member of your family did. Sleeping with actors and musicians alike, forcing yourself into yoga classes with young rich wives that only used their manicured nails to pierce each others skin behind doors. It was when you were reaching your late twenties that your parents took notice of your failing public image as you stumbled out of cabs, got caught in multiple scandals only because you were affecting their businesses.

And thats how you found yourself no longer alone but with an adult babysitter, or how your parents described it- a bodyguard.

─────── · ·

"I am old enough to take care of myself, I hate no need for someone to follow me around-" you started to say, your nails digging into your palms as anger started to swell into your eyes in unshed tears of frustration. A younger version of yourself would have been jumping out of joy for having company- your mature self only realizing how much having someone with you would only be added weight.

"Well it is too late for your opinion, the contract has already been finalized and settled, now he is waiting for you by the car. Please, don't make a further embarrassment of the family name," your mother concluded, already turning away from you and walking down the overwhelmingly bare and white hallway. Her heels clacking to a still as you picked up your voice in retaliation.

"How am I much more of an embarrassment than your lack of care or Cousin Simon's multi-day ragers! What about father's multiple hook-ups, or Jacklyns-"

"ENOUGH! I am sick and tired of your incessant whining since you were a child- you are a spoiled little thing since you were born. I gave you everything you could have wanted: books, toys, clothes, sports, and yet you throw all of my hard work aside for what- your constant need for attention? Your new bodyguard will give you everything you ever wanted- be grateful for once in your life and go- now."

The tears now endlessly poured down your cheeks, your breathing rapid, in-takes frequent as you stumbled outside the office space. Your vision was blurry, hands shaking and make-up now a mess as you threw yourself into the car without a second thought.

A detailed handkerchief was soon presented in front of your face as your eyes narrowed in confusion. Turning your gaze to the side and up an attractive man stared back at you. Brown curls framed his eyes paired with slim black frames for glasses. His beard was freshly cut, stubble poking out across his cheeks and chin as he offered you a polite smile at the time you took to analyze him and the well-tailored suit that fitted his tall form.

Cheeks feeling warm, you pitifully chuckled to yourself and took the napkin, opening up your handbag to find a compact mirror as you readjusted yourself. Satisfied you thought of handing the piece of cloth back before decided otherwise, the man noticed your hesitating hand with a brief chuckle before responding, "I can take it back later, are you doing better now miss?"

Still struggling to find your voice to signal your shock, grief, and anger after the interaction with your mother- you forced a nod before looking out the window. Your shoulders only rising as anxiety coated every goosebump on your skin. The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating with himself to continue conversation before decided to continue the ride home in silence- much to your approval.

─────── · ·

A few weeks into having your bodyguard, who you found to be named Edward- Eddie he insisted you called him with how much time your spent alongside one another. You tried to forget he was there as you continued your schedule, taking breakfast in bed as he stood outside your door to take you down to the car.

You would then head to your morning yoga classes. He would stand near the door, your water bottle and bag in hand as multiple of the said-to-be-married women tried to coax him into their beds with fake eyelash flutters and tight-fitting clothes yet he would keep his gaze forward. Eyes only snapping to your own as he greeted you with a pleasant smile, asked you how your session went and provided you with the materials in hand before leading you out once more.

Next, a walk around downtown and a visit to the local galleries, two steps behind you he walks was, you could see his shadow overtaking your own on the floor as you talked with the curators- wondering if you could add to your parents (now practically your own) growing collection before heading back home for lunch among the paintings or flowers.

You would insist on Edward- Eddie, to sit across from you. A guilty part eating away at yourself for having someone to join your little glass prison as you offered food of your plate only to be denied. "I will take care of myself once knowing you are fully taken care of miss, now please enjoy your meal- act as if I am not here as you usually do."

When you first met him, you failed to realize how comforting his baritone voice sounded in your ears. How heavy he made each word feel as they draped a blanket of calmness of yourself in reassurance. Offering him a smile in silent thanks, he raised a brow in question to your reaction yet continued just as he asked- chipping away at your meal before turning in early for the day.

─────── · ·

He was protective, you noted to yourself- maybe even bridging on overprotective as his eyes followed your shining form in that dress across the bar top and towards the dance floor as you met up with nepo-babies and start-up engineers alike.

You danced in twirled, a smile fighting its way across Edwards face as he took in your radiant smile as you drifted in between the sea of sweaty bodies and pumping music. The strobe lights had him seeing double before clarity soon coated his vision alongside red as a man felt of your backside. He watched you politely smile, your shoulders crawling upwards, your spine twisting into itself as you tried to raise the mans touch to a more respectable level before looking for a way out once realizing he was not taking the hint.

Edward walked through the people as the crowd parted for him with his determined steps. His hand gripped the mans, his head flipping over to catch the glare in his stare levelling his own. "More along," Edward said in a firm tone leaving no room for question- or what you both thought. The man smirked up at your bodyguard, a laugh erupting in his throat as he leaved in closer a finger pressing at Edwards chest. "And who are you to tell me off, the girls single so you need back the fuck off man- I got to her first."

"And it seems even though you were first, you are the last person she wants to be with right now. I ask you again to leave or I will show you out, your choice," Edward replied. His head and tone dipping towards the shorted man as you looked in between the two. Not knowing weather to jump the man for touching you or to jump your bodyguard for the vein budging from his neck. Your stomach soon decided for you as you leaned into Edwards side, face pressing into his arm, "I want to go home now, I feel like shit."

"Alright miss," and with one last glare towards the man, he wrapped his jacket around yourself as you fell back into and out of your party lifestyle once realizing he was not going to leave your side and also realized just how much his gaze on you made you feel like a teenage girl once again.

Butterflies in your stomach, skin hot and eyes wide as you stared up at him in a drunken daze. You felt his hand on your cheeks as he inspected your face, catching on your nose as some residue still sat on its tip. Wiping it off with his thumb before calling up your driver. He sat with you the whole ride home as you snuggled into his side with your hazed babbles.

Once exiting the car, you swore to feel the need of puking- the next moment he was holding your hair back, rubbing your back as you emptied your stomach into the front bushes.

You don't know how you made it into your bed the next day, or slipped out of your heels and took your hair out of its style in your drunken state. Yet you celebrated yourself by taking a bath that morning before getting lost in the warm waters that soon turned into cold realization. You couldn't look at your bodyguard for the next week without doing your best to speedily walk away from him, or turn your head when he asked about your itinerary.

You hated how much you smiled when hearing his chuckle at your antics, reminding you it was all part of the job. And you equally hated the disappointment your heart felt when he mentioned your time together was a contracted one.

─────── · ·

You soon became obsessed with taking in every detail of this man. How after you asked where his glasses went on that first day had returned the next. How he fixed them every time you laughed at a snide comment he made, joining your commentary of the women at yoga that day.

You became fixated on how his suit would move with his body, fabric subtly outlining the muscles of his arms, how how when you ate dinner in the greenhouse, he would straighten out his coat on the chair behind himself. Rolling his sleeves up before picking up the seemingly small teacup in his large hands with high-class elegance before casting you a cheeky wink as you choked on your own drink.

You loved the way he rushed to pat your back, ask if you were feeling alright and then went back to his emotionless facade as if nothing had happened moments later and you too would fall into this habit. Your lagging mind catching up with your heart as realization overcame the two of you on how nothing more could come of this- nothing good at least.

Edward would open every door for you, allow you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, would make sure you had the booth seat and take a hand in between your shoulder blades, sometimes the back of your neck in crammed and crowded spaces as you made your way through your parents workplace events and end-of-year parties.

And every night when you would come home, the house quiet your cold bed waiting for you with dim lights. Edward would wish you a goodnight before softly closing the door, you would wait in the far side of your room till you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore in fear of asking him to stay with you.

To truly give you all of his time, your mothers voice came back into your head, calling you selfish in your wants and you listened once more. Listening had gotten you to meet Eddie but maybe you were failing to listen to the right parts...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: It has been such a long time since I have written something, I hope that this was not a terrible read (hahaha... ermmm...)

#eddie halstead x reader #x reader #eddie x reader #the gentlemen #the gentlemen x reader #netflix #the gentlemen netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #eddie horniman #eddie horniman x reader #edward horniman #edward horniman x reader #the gentlemen 2024 #bodyguard #bodyguard au #au

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metranart · 10 months ago

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My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 6)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

Megumi raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "What's going on?”

Without a doubt, they had raised Megumi to be better than them, more skilled, stronger, and way more, smarter...

“What’s going on where?” Gojo feigned innocence, cocking his head to the side slightly. “I don’t-”

“-Sure, you do, Satoru.” Megumi was quick to interrupt holding the same eyebrow up.

“Dad, you are supposed to call me Dad or Daddy, how many timed do I have to ask you, Megumi.” Gojo teased, hiding his nervousness behind fake annoyance, all his efforts put on gaining a few more minutes.

Megumi growled in annoyance at the old act his adoptive father used to play when he wanted to get his attention. Since he was little, was always the same fight with Satoru Gojo-... the young adult swallowed his annoyance and instead tried to go downstairs to get you, only to find himself flanked by Gojo, but this time by his broad body getting strategically on the way.

"Why are you blocking my way?" Megumi asked without patience, and Gojo snickered, lamely.

"Am I?" chuckled out the special grade sorcerer awkwardly, "...you misunderstand me, my child, I-I…I just want a kiss on the cheek from my Gumi-"

"NO!" Megumi’s voice raised, cheeks coloring with embarrassment, and Gojo saw it as his chance to take advantage of his obvious discomfort to get closer, to block his path better, to buy more time for you to come back from that mind-blowing orgasm he had just given you, all disguised behind his typical and characteristic needy self, finally his spoiled personality will serve someone else’s than him. "Come on, Gumi. Give Daddy a goodnight kiss-"

"...You're crazy, I'm not a child anymore... stay away!" Megumi grunted, pressing his strong palm on Satoru’s face who kept insisting on invading his personal space, lips raised, pouting like a fool who was ready to steal that embarrassing kiss. "Stop it, Satoru!"

"Satoru, leave him alone, he didn't even want to kiss you as a child... now that he's older, even less so." Both struggling sorcerers heard Geto say with an amused chuckle right next to them.

Satoru pouted throwing a tantrum but internally highly relieved, if Geto was there that meant that you...

"Satoru-sensei, if you're going to be harassing us like that, I'd better go," your voice made its appearance, that hint of tiredness and shortness of breath disguised behind false irritation.

"(Y/N)," Megumi sounded surprised, his cheeks exploding at being caught in such an awkward domestic scenario and forcing himself to use all his strength pushed Gojo off him.

"How mean are my favorite students with their poor sensei," Gojo complained, putting a hand against his chest to feign indignation, "...if I didn't know that I was your favorite professor, I'd be offended-"

"You're not our favorite professor." Megumi answered mercilessly, and you supported him, only to fall once again into the usual protocol, a protocol that would chase away any suspicion from Megumi's mind of what was really happening between you and his parents.

"Nanami is our favorite." You delivered the final thrust, and Gojo's shoulders drooped comically, Suguru laughing at the comical outcome.

From where he stood, the curse-eater could see from the corner of his eye that slight tremor that accompanied your knees, the way the muscles in your thighs continued to have involuntary spasms, your pretty hands squeezing your uniform shirt to catch your breath and summoning all your strength to keep you upright when the only thing you wanted at that moment was to collapse and rest.

That orgasm had been way too intense, it was the longest minute of your life, you had never cum so fast and so hard, every nerve felt on fire, your sensei had ripped every ounce of strength from your body, and you could only think about now was sleep.

"-It's late, maybe we should go rest, Megumi."

You suggested quickly, hoping that you could catch your breath in the arms of Morpheus, clean the saliva that covered your thighs and pussy, and sleep under Megumi's sweet and safe company.

Megumi nodded, handing the briefing to Satoru and offering you his hand, which you took without hesitation to let him guide you up to his room.

"Leave the door open," Suguru commented a little too firmly, and immediately regretted his involuntary spurt of unnecessary jealousy.

"We are not children anymore, Suguru-san. Good night." Was Megumi's final response.

Gojo and Suguru were reduced to wishing you goodnight, there was nothing else they could do, they had to control themselves no matter how much what was happening bothered them.

"G-Good night, Suguru-san, Satoru-san." You said and both softened their voices to respond.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

"Sleep well, little one."

A growl was the last thing that was heard before the door to Megumi's room was closed and the latch put on, you were now inside the room of their adopted son, and they couldn't feel more uneasy.

No matter how much you insisted, Megumi wouldn't let you sleep on the futon on the floor, giving you his bed instead.

"I don't mind, (Y/N). I prefer that tomorrow you are at your best for the mission." He had said without letting you protest, getting into the futon and watching you from below as you climbed onto her bed and snuggled against her pillow.

“Thank you, Gumi.”

Were the last words you directed at him making him smile timidly before darkness reigned in the room as did silence, only a ray of moonlight subtly illuminating one part of the room until Megumi's eyes became accustomed to the shadows.

How he wanted to be in that same bed with you, his arms around you, your face against his chest, your warm breath against his skin.... he had to stop thinking about it or he couldn't control himself.

Megumi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and his cheeks flushed when he opened his eyes again and found you looking at him from the edge of her mattress. A mischievous smile kidnapped your lips, and you couldn’t stop to tease him.

"What were you thinking, Megumi Fushiguro?" you asked him in a not-so-innocent whisper, "your cheeks are red, and you look agitated..." you continued, ignoring how uncomfortable he looked, "tell me, best friends don't keep secrets from each other."

Megumi gulped and you could see the abrupt movement of his Adam's apple.

"-Nothing interesting," the black-haired man answered, looking away.

"Liar,” you accused, “don't you trust me?" you asked him and this time, his mouth opened without his permission, letting out his biggest insecurity.

"Trust? How dare you-” he cut himself mid-speech and instead, asked. “... You like older men?"

"Older men?" you repeated dazedly.

The question was out there with all its implications and silence reigned once again in the room, "I know I declared my feelings to you this morning but-" Megumi steeled himself, "-but I need to know if you prefer them... "

Megumi's heart beat a mile a minute. You're smart, he doesn't need to say more for you to know who he's referring to. He's not stupid, he's not easy to fool... of course, he noticed the traces of sweat covering your face, your rosy cheeks and your shortness of breath, combined with Satoru's needy attitude so suddenly, something was happening and even though he refused with fervent stubbornness to believe that you could have an affair with his guardians... he needed to say it out loud and hear you deny it out loud. Megumi wants you for himself, you are soulmates. Satoru and Suguru already have each other, it's only fair that they let him have you.

Your silence felt like a hot knife piercing his beating heart, that heart that for years has only beaten for you, for your attention, for your affection.

Megumi sighed heavily, and this time it was anger at your cowardice that made him insist.

"Who do you prefer? Satoru or Suguru?" this time his question dripped venom, "Despite their age, both are still very popular with-"

"I prefer you." Your sudden confession stopped him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Don't just tell me what I want to hear, (Y/N)-"

His stubborn mouth was silenced as your soft lips claimed it. Slowly he felt you crawling from the safety of the bed towards his dangerous futon, where he would no longer be or want to be the kind boy who only held your hand timidly.

Your tongue pushed its way between his lips and Megumi's crotch woke up, firm and throbbing against his pajama pants. His hips stuttering up against your warm, covered core, he doesn't want to force you into anything you don't want but he's not in control anymore.

"...Are you sure?" Megumi forced himself to ask and immediately scolded himself for fear of a refusal, but you grinned against his mouth and your tongue licked his lips before asking.

"You do not want?"

Megumi nodded, "I want, I want you more than I need air." The black-haired man declared fervently, "...I just want you to-"

"I want to, Megumi." You voiced out and he shuddered with excitement, "I want you to do to me everything you've been planning for almost two years-"

"Three years, hun." Megumi revealed, stealing little pecks from your panting lips, "Three agonizing years, I've loved you since you set foot in school-"

"Then don't hold back, Megumi." And that was all the permission the young adult needed to let go.

His head shifted to the side finding refuge in the hollow of your neck. Slightly parted lips pressing too insistently against the tender skin as he bathed it in warm, elaborated breaths.

“You had your chance.” Megumi warned and soon, there was nothing innocent or gentle about the way his lips moved against yours, or his hands slipped under your pajamas, or the way he gets rid of those cumbersome layers of clothes.

This boy’s actions were fierce and desperate, could feel the heat radiating with each touch, each movement was devastatingly daring and conceived just to drive you to the edge and let you rush into the abyss of his very soul. It was the true essence of a greedy man who had been asleep for far too long under layers of control. Each layer had been ripped apart by your acceptance of his feelings and now only the raw man remained, wide awake and hungry.

You felt at his mercy, more precisely, like his willing prey.

Megumi grew too enamored with the plush curve of your hips and all restriction flew away from his rational grasp.

“Fuck-…. Do your very best not to scream, baby.”

PART 7

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER.

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gwenyn28 · 26 days ago

Text

Since some people seem to struggle to understand the difference between facts and what is speculation or interpretation, here are a few things I think we should talk about concerning season 8b, especially episode 11.

What is a fact? What happened on the episode? What does this mean? What is commonly used in media and what is just interpretation or an assumption about it?

Fact: Eddie said it once and Buck twice that “Eddie is straight.”

From a screenwriting perspective, unfortunately “straight” is the default sexual orientation. It is always assumed that characters are straight unless it is stated otherwise.

Hen is shown as a lesbian from the beginning due to her marriage to Karen. Michael came out to Athena and also to the audience in season 1. Buck started to date a guy so he is at least seen as queer since his sexuality has not been explicitly addressed on the show yet. There was just a hint about the “in which pool he should dip into”. That he is bisexual is stated solely off screen in interviews; if it will ever be said on screen is unclear.

Now, let’s focus on Eddie and the statement that he is straight. The question is: Why would you need to say that? Nobody announced that Bobby, Athena, Chim or Maddie are straight in the show. Why is it said three times in such a short time span about Eddie? The explanation is very simple and can be circled back to a common narrative device - mention something that stands out as weird or different to come back to it later and to prove it to be wrong.

For example: In a crime movie let someone talk unprompted about the crime, asking questions about it just to show in the end that this person was the one who did it. Why would they talk about it otherwise? Normally a culprit would try to lay low and to not get any attention. So, that person mentioning the crime on their own unprompted leaves the viewer with the question “Wait a minute, that is weird… Maybe they have something to do with it.”

The same goes for the “Eddie is straight” phrase. Why would you mention it explicitly more than once if that was not something you need to circle back to? Like a narrator saying “In fact, he was not straight.”

Fact: Buck and Tommy spent the night together. Buck woke up alone but Tommy was already up and in the kitchen to make breakfast for them, suggesting that they might give their relationship another try.

Buck: Don’t worry. I know it doesn’t change anything. Tommy: Why not? Buck: What are you saying? Tommy: I’m saying… what are you doing on Saturday? Buck: You want to try again? Tommy: I mean I’m not ready to move in or anything. It kind of seems like you aren’t either. Buck: And you’re not scared I’m gonna break your heart anymore? Tommy: Not as much. Now that the competition’s out of the way.

Why would he use the word “competition”? That was intentional because we know writing in a tv show is always intentional. They don’t put up random words just to fill spaces. There is not enough time for that. And even though Tommy didn’t say the name, Buck knew that he was talking about Eddie after a moment of thinking. Which led him to the conclusion that Tommy saw Eddie as a competition.

Yes, I admit that you don’t have to read this in a romantic way. You can also see it purely platonically. But in the end it comes down to one fact. Eddie and Buck are friends first. Best friends. Your ex-boyfriend you just hooked up with thinks that this man is his competition. That he can just be in a relationship with you when said man is gone. So he is no competition anymore for your attention or something else.

We know how important Eddie is for Buck. So suggesting “hey, I feel threatened by your best friend and I am happy that he is gone” (not to forget that Tommy bought Champagne to probably celebrate the night they spent together, as well maybe them getting back together) is a very shitty move. No matter if Buck has feelings for Eddie or not in a romantic way… but they are friends. And his ex wanting his best friend gone, even celebrating it? How can Buck accept that and get back together with a person who will probably always feel threatened by Eddie? Buck is living in his house and they talk regularly even though they are apart for now. (And we know that Eddie will be back later in the season.) What does Tommy expect to happen even if he thinks that Eddie stays in Texas for good? He would probably want Buck to choose between him and Eddie, that Buck should distance himself from his best friend. And that is never a good foundation for a working and healthy relationship.

We get it even explicitly told later on in the conversation with Maddie when Buck said that “I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have…”

Fact: Tommy scoffs when Buck told him that Eddie is straight.

You usually scoff when you don’t believe what the other person is telling you. When you think they are wrong, on purpose or not. And exactly that is what is happening here. Buck might be convinced in that moment that Eddie is straight but Tommy is not. Therefore he can’t hold back and scoffs at Buck saying it, insisting on it, even slightly rolling his eyes.

To read a bit deeper into it, even though that is pure interpretation now, you could say that Tommy might see himself in Eddie in that particular situation. We know that he came out later in life, being engaged to Abby before. Tommy and Eddie have spent some time together in the beginning. So he might have seen Eddie acting in ways that looked familiar. Like how Tommy behaved and talked when he was still in the closet, still denying his true sexuality. Therefore his assumption that Eddie might not be as straight as Buck thinks he is.

Fact: Buck said “I don’t have to want to sleep with everyone I have feelings for. And I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with.”

Let’s focus on the second part first. This is about Tommy who also understands that this is about him because of his immediate reaction. He takes a step back and he closes himself off. He acknowledges that Buck says that just because they slept together last night it doesn’t mean that he has any feelings for Tommy. Because he can sleep with someone without having them. And we know that he definitely can do that when we remember how Buck slept around a lot in the beginning of the show (even though he might have done that because he was looking for something meaningful). So, Buck made it clear that the night was nice but it doesn’t have to mean a thing and… actually, it doesn’t. It was just them sleeping together. Later in the conversation with Maddie he even admits that he was just using him as a distraction (see more about that down below).

Now, the first part of that sentence is more up for interpretation. Buck says that just because he has feelings for someone doesn’t mean that he has to automatically sleep with them. If we remember season 1 and his time with Abby… it took a while for them to sleep with each other. First they got to know each other over the phone and Buck developed feelings for her. So, this can be read as “sex is just a means to get some relief and because he likes doing it. But if he has feelings for someone, the focus on sex is shifting. It becomes more meaningful and not just something he jumps into carelessly.”

Fact: In 8x06 Tommy broke up with Buck, using the words “I’m your first, not your last.”

Before getting to the conversation with Maddie this is worth mentioning here. Because this fits into the whole narrative that was written around Tommy. He calls Eddie his competition and only without him being there he can be in a relationship with Buck. Which means that he probably also saw Eddie as the competition during the six months he and Buck were together. This sheds a certain light onto the first/last comment. Tommy made it very clear in the conversation with Buck the morning after their hook up that he felt threatened by Eddie’s presence in Buck’s life. Which can be read as that his comment during the break up was about Eddie. That Tommy might have been Buck’s first, but that Eddie would be his last in Tommy’s opinion. Because he thinks that there is something going on between them (otherwise he would not feel threatened by Eddie and wouldn’t have scoffed at the straight comment) and this might be what leads to Buck breaking his heart. Therefore, he ended it before that could happen.

Fact: In that kitchen scene Buck and Maddie talked about the possibility of Buck having feelings for Eddie.

Buck: I mean what’s that even supposed to mean? I’m living in Eddie’s old house, therefore I must be in love with him? Maddie: Are you? Buck: In love with Eddie? Maddie: It wouldn’t be so crazy. Buck: Except I’m not. As much as everyone seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend, it isn’t just like that. I mean does not having him in my life - and in the field - leave a big hole? Yes, it does. Sure.

It is a fact that Buck said that he is not in love with Eddie and that it is not like he is pining for him.

Now, let’s interpret or better explain that.

Why did they talk about this in the first place? Why mention the thing that Tommy brought up the morning after Buck and him hooked up? Why not just talk about Tommy? If the goal was to make these two get back together, the whole conversation would have been solely about Tommy and what they did and what and how Buck feels about it. And how to move on, considering Tommy’s “offer” for a second try. To get back together somehow or at least to dive deeper into Buck’s feelings for his ex. But instead, for the first time in the show, the question was brought up if Buck was in love with Eddie and that it wouldn’t be that crazy.

There are three things worth mentioning here.

1. Nobody, neither Maddie nor Tommy, has used the word “love” before. This came from Buck who used that word, who drew the conclusion subconsciously about the whole exchange with Tommy that this was about him being in love with Eddie. Not “having feelings for him”, “having a crush on him” or “seeing him as more than a friend”. No, it was the word “love” that was used. And that is a very meaningful word. It doesn’t even stop there because he talks about pining for his “straight” (see the importance above) best friend who left a big hole in his life because of his move to Texas. He didn’t even give a clear answer to Maddie’s question. He could easily have said “No, I am not. I see him as a friend/brother.” And that would have been the end of it. But instead his reply was more a deflection. “Are you in love? - He is straight.” Leaves one thinking about this.

2. And about the pining part… Buck says “as much as everyone seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend, it just isn’t like that.” Who is everyone? Nobody has said anything about him and Eddie before. Tommy is the first who brings up potential feelings for Eddie, nobody has ever voiced anything that comes close to these “accusations”. So, again. This is a connection made up in Buck’s mind, similar with the “love”. Nobody has mentioned either of these things before. This might be just an assumption but maybe he talks about “everyone” because deep down he has feelings and thinks that it is obvious for everyone. So that is why he refers to everyone in his statement.

3. Since wording stuff in a particular way is so important and is always intentional it has a deeper meaning that the question about “being in love with Eddie” is brought up in such an explicit way. Doing this is exactly the same that happens when Eddie’s straightness is mentioned so many times. It is for the casual viewer outside of any fandom. The seed is planted and the viewer starts to question “Wait a minute… could he be in love with Eddie? Is that an option?” For the first time, the thought is out there for them to consider it. About Buck and Eddie maybe becoming a thing, being in love with each other. They are clued in and start to think about the possibility, maybe they even start to look out for further clues in any upcoming episodes.

Worth mentioning here is also the fact that Buck said “I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have but… he seemed so relieved he was gone. It pissed me off. It felt like he was accusing me. Is this what he’s been thinking the whole time we were together?” That is a fact that this was said on the show.

This is directly circling back to the words Tommy used in that prior scene the morning after when he talked about Eddie being a competition and which makes the conversation with Maddie more about Eddie than about Tommy. And how much Tommy is convinced that Eddie could be and probably has been a threat to his relationship with Buck.

Also, let’s not forget another important thing here. The common romcom tropes. People might say “But Buck said that he has no feelings. So the possibility is definitely shut down.” This is not how these tropes work. Two people can be friends for years and then they start developing feelings for each other. Or realize they have had these already without being aware of them. They always are in denial at first because they are convinced that starting a relationship could ruin their friendship. So, they try not to dive into this, to deny that there are feelings involved.

Take Jess and Nick from New Girl for example. Happened with them as well. And there are many other tv couples that started as friends and before they got together they denied their feelings until something happened and they finally took the risk.

Fact: Buck suggested that maybe he should call Tommy to apologize.

Buck: I should call him. Maddie: Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying. It’s not like he moved to Mars. Buck: No, not Eddie. I mean I will call him but… Tommy. I should apologize. He’s probably right. I was using him as a distraction so I didn’t have to feel alone. Maddie: Not the best reason to get back together with someone. Buck: No.

Buck thought about calling Tommy, yes. But not to make up with him, to apologize and to tell Tommy that he was wrong. That there was nothing going on with him and Eddie. That he wanted to try it again with him. To give them a second chance. Nothing was said that could lead to the assumption that he wanted to call him for any of that.

No, he just felt bad about using him as a rebound. Because he felt lonely. That Eddie’s absence had a huge impact on him. (Let’s not forget that he said Eddie’s name 15 times alone in that episode. That is an all time high, the only episode Buck said Eddie’s name almost as much was in 7x04). Buck even admitted that Tommy was probably right even though he did not explain about what exactly. One could read into this that Buck agreed with Tommy about having feelings for Eddie though this is definitely just an assumption. But even this assumption aside, that part of the conversation Buck had with Maddie is only about him feeling guilty of using Tommy. That is how to read that exchange. Nothing else.

In the next episodes it is not even mentioned if he did call him to apologize (or rekindle). On the contrary. We see Buck in these next two episodes having meaningful facetime calls with Eddie instead to support him and to be there for him. While Tommy or calling him isn’t even mentioned at all.

_____

Let’s sum it all up then. After Eddie left Buck misses him and he feels lonely that he can’t stop talking and thinking about him. Then he runs into Tommy and sees him as a nice way to distract himself from that. So that he doesn’t have to think about the hole Eddie left in his life. There are no real feelings towards Tommy involved anymore. He just feels sorry that he was using him the next day.

Meanwhile Tommy is ready to jump back into bed with Buck and to even go further towards restarting their relationship because Eddie is gone and he doesn’t have to feel threatened anymore. Because Eddie was seen as a threat during their relationship, that he would probably be the reason for Buck to break up with him.

There is not much room left for interpretation. This is what happened on screen. I tried to put up as few as possible assumptions, mostly trying to base the explanations on facts and common screenwriting means and storytelling tropes.

_____

Honorable mention:

I know we should not put too much weight into interviews because they are just partly reliable since a. the people can lie with what they say and b. they don’t know the full story yet or the story changes between the interview and episode. But still there are certain quotes that support what I explained above. So that it is not far fetched to either draw these conclusion or explain it in a certain way.

“Yeah, I mean, he’s going to be moving to what’s in his future. And look, Tommy is in Buck’s romantic past for sure.” Tim Minear, November 14th, TV Fanatic

“But series creator Tim Minear said Episode 11 is not meant to shut down the shippers once and for all — no matter how insistent they are on making Buddie happen.” Tim Minear, March 20th, The Wrap

“It makes sense for his boyfriend to notice, you moved into the guy’s house and really he takes up a lot of space in your world and I think you might be in love with him, and Buck protests and kind of knocks that down. And also when Maddie asks him flat out, he says, it’s not like that. So you can either believe Buck or you don’t have to. It’s up to you.” Tim Minear, March 20th, TV Insider

“He’s telling his truth in the moment, for sure. I don’t think he’s trying to lie and hide anything from [Maddie],” he says. “He’s never even considered this before. He’s telling his truth, for sure in that moment. This is something that’s been brought to him from Tommy and something that he was not, as I say, having any kind of prior thoughts about.” Oliver Stark, March 20th, TV Insider

“is this really about the fact that do I really want to be back with Tommy or am I trying to fill a void in my heart because my best friend just left and moved away?” Aisha Hinds, March 20th, TV Insider

“You run into an ex, and you're in a place where you could just use some company and some distraction, and sort of one thing leads to another.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“And it was also important for me to have Buck say, "Look, I don't have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for, and I don't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with," which is a direct reference to who Buck was in the first season or so.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“The truth of the matter is, Buck is using Tommy as a distraction for the turmoil he's going through.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“Tommy has a function in this universe that isn't just to be Buck's bed buddy” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“And I think in that episode, Buck even realizes, "Maybe I'm not interacting with Tommy here for the right reasons." And then obviously he's kind of a d*ck to Tommy in the way that he handles that conversation, and it's obviously because he's so taken aback, but he's kind of rude in what he says to Tommy. So I think for the most part, he probably has gone some way to shutting that door regardless of what he would want.” Oliver Stark, March 24, Screenrant

#911 abc #911 on abc #anti tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #anti bucktommy #episode analysis #post episode 11 #season 8 analysis

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aliceintheworld · 8 months ago

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PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

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