#love that she can pin him down and still have her hands free it's so real | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

The Wolf's Flame

- Summary: When you take your son flying, Cregan keeps fires warm for your return.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is only daughter of Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes and is bonded to a dragon. These events happen after Fires That Never Freeze. To read all parts in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @21-princess

Your fingers gently trace the downy softness of Alysane's silver hair, a mirror of your own. Her tiny eyelids flutter as she breathes steadily against your chest, her warmth a comfort in the quiet of the nursery. The light filtering through the windows casts a soft glow, making the strands of her hair shimmer like moonlight on water. She stirs slightly, letting out a small, contented sigh, and you can't help but smile, though it is tinged with sorrow.

You can still vividly recall the first time Jace held your son, Killian. He had been so careful, so reverent, as if the boy was made of the finest glass.

"He's got your spirit," Jacaerys had said, cradling Killian in his arms with a grin that could have brightened the darkest day. "And a bit of Cregan's stubbornness too, I reckon. He's going to be a strong one."

You remember how his brown eyes had softened, his usual warrior's stoicism giving way to a tenderness that was rare to see in him. You had laughed then, a light, joyful sound that echoed in the stone halls, lifting the spirits of those around you.

But now, that memory is a dagger to your heart. Jace is gone, another brother taken by the cruel hands of war and treachery. The Battle of the Gullet claimed him, like it claimed so many others, leaving behind only a hollow ache where once there had been warmth and love.

Your grip on Alysane tightens ever so slightly, as if you can protect her from the world that has already taken so much from you. She shifts in her sleep, her tiny fists clenching, and you wonder what kind of life she will have in this world that seems so determined to tear your family apart.

The door creaks open softly, and you glance up to see Cregan standing in the doorway, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. His presence is a comfort, a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions. He steps into the room, his boots barely making a sound on the cold stone floor.

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion as he comes to stand beside you. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, a warm, steadying presence. "Just like her mother."

You smile faintly at his words, but it's a fragile thing, easily broken. "She reminds me of Jace," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "The way he looked at Killian… it was as if he could see all the good in the world reflected in him."

Cregan's jaw tightens, and he nods, his eyes darkening with shared grief. "Jacaerys was a good man," he says after a moment, his voice low and filled with respect. "He would have been proud to see how you're raising our children, Y/N. Proud of the mother you've become."

His words are a balm, easing the sting of your loss, even if only slightly. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, drawing strength from his steady heartbeat. "I just wish he were here to see them grow," you admit, your voice thick with unshed tears. "To see the family we’re building…"

Cregan wraps his arms around you, careful not to disturb Alysane, who remains peacefully asleep in your arms. "We'll make sure they know who he was," he promises, his voice strong and resolute. "We'll tell them stories of their uncle Jace, of his courage, his kindness. He won't be forgotten."

You nod, a tear finally slipping free, tracing a path down your cheek. "I just miss him so much," you confess, the words breaking like waves against the shore.

"I know," Cregan whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a long moment, the two of you stand there in the quiet of the nursery, holding each other close, sharing the weight of your grief. Alysane stirs again, and you look down at her, at the peaceful innocence on her tiny face. She is a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, life continues, new stories begin.

As you gaze at your daughter, you feel a small spark of determination flicker within you. You will protect her, protect Killian, and ensure they grow up knowing the love and legacy of those who came before them.

"I'll make sure they know," you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. "I'll make sure they remember him."

Cregan nods, his grip on you tightening just slightly, a silent promise that he will stand by you, no matter what. Together, you will keep Jace's memory alive, woven into the very fabric of your children's lives, a legacy of love and courage that even death cannot erase.

The chill of the northern wind bites at your cheeks as you stand in the courtyard of Winterfell, the ancient stones of the castle walls towering around you. The sky above is a pale, wintry blue, the kind that stretches on endlessly, promising the first snows of the season. Thraxata, your beloved dragon, is a dark silhouette against the sky, her massive form casting a shadow over the courtyard as she awaits you with the patient stillness of a creature who knows her place in the world.

Cregan stands nearby, holding Killian in his arms. Your son's violet eyes are wide with excitement, his small hands clutching at the fur-lined collar of his father's cloak. His breath comes in quick, excited puffs, visible in the cold air, as he watches you secure the last of the straps on Thraxata's saddle.

"Is Mama ready?" Killian asks, his voice high with anticipation, his gaze flicking between you and the towering dragon.

"Almost, little wolf," Cregan replies, his deep voice softened with affection. He adjusts his hold on Killian, allowing the boy to lean forward slightly, getting a better view of the magnificent creature before him.

You finish tightening the final strap and turn to face them, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your son’s eager face. "She's ready," you confirm, walking over to them with a smile that feels more natural now, more present. The cold air feels invigorating, as does the promise of the flight ahead.

Killian wiggles in Cregan’s arms, his excitement barely contained. "Can we fly now, Mama? Please?"

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and reach out to take him from Cregan, who hands him over with a tender smile. "Of course, we can, little one," you say, holding Killian close for a moment before lifting him up to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "But you must hold on tight, alright? Just like we practiced."

Killian nods eagerly, his little hands gripping your cloak as you turn to face Cregan. Your husband’s grey eyes are filled with warmth, the kind that always makes you feel grounded, no matter how high you fly. He steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist as he bends down to press a kiss to your lips, a slow, lingering gesture that speaks of love and longing.

"Fly safe," he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm in the cold air. "And bring him back to me in one piece."

You smile against his mouth, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Always," you promise, your voice soft but filled with the certainty that comes from years of shared battles and shared love. "We'll be back before the sun sets."

With a final kiss, you turn back to Thraxata, your heart thudding with a mix of excitement and the familiar rush of anticipation that always accompanies a flight. You cradle Killian with one arm as you approach the great beast, who lowers her massive head in greeting, her violet eyes shimmering with intelligence and recognition.

“Hello girl,” you whisper, your free hand brushing against her polished obsidian scales, which glimmer faintly with hues of violet and blue in the sunlight. Thraxata rumbles in response, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, as if she’s sharing in the excitement of the day.

With practiced ease, you swing yourself up onto the saddle, positioning Killian in front of you. His small hands reach out instinctively to grasp the pommel, and you secure him with a careful, reassuring grip. He giggles with delight as he feels the warmth of Thraxata’s body beneath him, the thrill of the impending flight already bubbling over.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice a blend of both motherly concern and the thrill of the adventure ahead.

“Ready!” Killian exclaims, his voice filled with a joy so pure it sends a spark of warmth through you, despite the cold.

With one last glance at Cregan, who watches you with that same steady look, you give Thraxata the command to take flight. The dragon responds immediately, her powerful wings unfurling with a sound like thunder. She launches into the air, her great body rising smoothly from the ground as the wind rushes past you, carrying the scent of pine and snow.

The world below falls away quickly as Thraxata soars upward, the chill of the wind tugging at your hair and cloak, but the cold is nothing compared to the exhilaration of the sky opening up before you. Killian’s laughter rings out, a bright, joyous sound that echoes across the open sky. He turns his head back to you, eyes wide with pure wonder. “Mama, we’re flying! Look, we’re really flying!”

You tighten your grip on him, feeling the steady thrum of Thraxata’s heart beneath you, the power of her wings carrying you higher, above the walls of Winterfell and the endless expanse of the North. “Yes, we are,” you say, your voice filled with the same awe you see reflected in your son’s eyes. “Just like I did with my mother when I was your age.”

The dragon’s flight is smooth, a testament to the bond you’ve shared since her hatching in your cradle. She’s been with you through every trial, every loss, and every victory. Now, she carries your son just as faithfully, as if she understands that he is a part of you, a continuation of your legacy.

As Winterfell grows smaller beneath you, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Up here, with the sky stretching out infinitely above and the world below far removed, it’s easy to forget the weight of your grief, the loss of Jace, the uncertainty of the future. Up here, there is only the sound of the wind, the warmth of your son in your arms, and the steady, powerful beat of Thraxata’s wings.

You glance down at Killian, whose eyes are now glued to the horizon, a look of pure wonder on his face. “What do you see, little one?” you ask, curious to hear his thoughts.

“Everything, Mama,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe. “I can see everything.”

You smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Then let’s see where the wind takes us, my brave little dragon rider.”

As Thraxata glides effortlessly through the sky, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the rare freedom it offers, the bond between mother and child, between rider and dragon. And for a time, as the cold wind whips past and the world falls away beneath you, you are simply Y/N Velaryon, a daughter of House Targaryen, a mother, a wife, and a rider of dragons. The rest of the world can wait until your feet are back on solid ground.

Cregan Stark watches as Thraxata’s obsidian-black form rises higher into the sky, the great dragon’s wings beating with a rhythm that reverberates in his chest. He stands in the courtyard of Winterfell, eyes locked on the shrinking figures of his wife and son as they ascend into the endless blue, until they become little more than a speck against the pale sky. The wind whips through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of pine and the distant promise of snow, but Cregan remains still, his gaze unwavering as long as they are visible.

There’s a sense of awe and pride that fills him every time he watches Y/N with her dragon. Even after years of seeing her soar above the battlements, it never fails to stir something deep within him. She is a true daughter of the Targaryen line, a force of nature bound to the skies, and it amazes him that she is his—his wife, the mother of his children.

As Thraxata and his family disappear from sight, he finally lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a mix of contentment and longing. He knows she’ll be back before long, but there’s always that small pang of separation, as if part of him takes flight with her every time she ascends into the heavens.

With a final glance at the now empty sky, Cregan turns and heads back toward the Great Keep. The stone walls of Winterfell rise imposingly around him, offering a stark contrast to the boundless sky from which he has just watched his wife and son disappear. The weight of his responsibilities returns to him with each step, grounding him in the reality of the world below.

As he enters the Great Hall, the warmth of the hearth fires greets him, a welcome change from the crisp air outside. The hall is quiet this time of day, the usual bustle of Winterfell subdued, with most of the household attending to their duties. He makes his way down the familiar corridors, his boots echoing softly on the stone floors, until he reaches the chamber where his daughter, Alysane, is being tended to.

The door is slightly ajar, and as he steps inside, he is greeted by the sight of a nursemaid cradling the infant in her arms. Alysane is awake, her bright violet eyes—so much like her mother’s—tracking the nursemaid’s movements with the curious intensity only a baby can muster. The soft, cooing lullaby being sung to her halts as the nursemaid notices Cregan’s entrance.

“Lord Stark,” she says with a respectful dip of her head, adjusting her hold on the child. “The little lady has been a delight today, though I daresay she misses her mother already.”

Cregan crosses the room in a few long strides, his gaze softening as he looks down at his daughter. “She’ll have her back soon enough,” he replies, his voice a low rumble of reassurance. “Let me hold her.”

The nursemaid carefully transfers Alysane into his arms, and Cregan feels the familiar, grounding weight of his daughter settle against his chest. She’s so small, so delicate, and yet she has a strength in her grip that makes him smile every time she reaches out to grasp his fingers. Alysane’s eyes, so much like Y/N’s, meet his, and he can’t help the rush of love that fills him.

“Have you been good for the nursemaid, little one?” he asks, his tone lighter, more playful as he gently rocks her. Alysane coos in response, her tiny fists waving in the air as if to say, Yes, Papa, I’ve been very good.

“She’s taken to her feeding well, my lord,” the nursemaid informs him, a smile tugging at her lips as she watches the interaction. “And she seems to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Perhaps she takes after her mother in that regard.”

Cregan chuckles softly, nodding. “She has the blood of the dragon in her, no doubt. But she’s a Stark, too. She’ll grow to love these cold winds, just as we do.”

He spends a few more moments with his daughter, savoring the simple joy of holding her, of feeling her small heartbeat against his chest. It’s a different kind of peace than what he feels when he’s with Y/N, but no less profound. Alysane is a part of them both, a perfect blend of fire and ice, and he treasures these quiet moments with her.

After a while, he gently hands Alysane back to the nursemaid, who resumes her gentle rocking and humming. “Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with gratitude. “Keep her close to the fire. The day will grow colder before it ends.”

The nursemaid nods. “As you wish, my lord.”

Cregan leaves the chamber, his thoughts now turning to the evening ahead. The wind outside has picked up, and he knows Y/N and Killian will appreciate a warm welcome when they return. He heads toward the Great Hall once more, this time with purpose in his stride. The fires need to be tended, more wood brought in, and the hearths stoked to a roaring blaze. Winterfell might be a cold, unforgiving place at times, but it was also a home—a sanctuary for his family—and he would see to it that they returned to warmth and comfort.

As he reaches the Great Hall, he calls out to a nearby servant, a young man quick on his feet. “We’ll need more wood for the hearths,” Cregan instructs, his tone commanding but not unkind. “Bring in what you can carry and see to it that the fires are stoked high.”

The servant nods eagerly, hurrying off to fulfill the request. Cregan moves to the main hearth himself, where the fire is already burning but not nearly to the level he desires. He takes up a heavy iron poker and stirs the embers, watching as the flames leap higher, their glow reflecting off the stone walls.

As the fire roars to life, filling the hall with a warm, golden light, he steps back, satisfied with his work. The crackling of the flames, the scent of burning wood, and the comforting heat are all reminders of why he fights, why he endures. It’s for these moments—for the quiet, peaceful evenings after the storms have passed, when his family is safe and together under one roof.

He can almost hear Killian’s excited laughter already, the way his little boy’s voice fills the hall with joy whenever they return from a flight. He imagines Y/N’s smile, the way it lights up her entire face, and how her silver hair catches the firelight as she steps inside, Killian in tow, both of them flushed from the cold and the exhilaration of the sky.

The servant returns with an armful of wood, and Cregan helps him stack it near the hearth. The warmth is already spreading through the hall, driving away the chill that had begun to settle as the day waned. He can feel the sense of home building around him, the very thing he’s fought to protect, to preserve for those he loves most.

With the fires now blazing, he takes a moment to himself, standing in the center of the hall and letting the warmth seep into his bones. It’s a simple pleasure, but one he doesn’t take for granted. The flickering light of the flames plays across his face, casting shadows that dance along the stone walls.

He glances toward the door, knowing it will soon swing open, admitting his wife and son back into the safety and warmth of Winterfell. He’s ready to greet them, to hear about their flight, to listen to Killian’s breathless recounting of the view from above and to feel the reassurance of Y/N’s presence beside him.

As he waits, the fire crackling at his back, Cregan Stark feels a deep sense of contentment. There’s a storm coming, as there always is in the North, but for now, his world is warm, his heart full, and his family is safe. And that is all he could ever ask for.

The warmth of the fire mingles with the lingering heat of your bodies, still flush from the passion that had just consumed you both. You lie nestled in the soft, thick furs of your bed, the heavy pelts providing a cocoon of warmth against the biting cold that lurks just beyond the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan's strong arm is draped around you, his hand tracing lazy, soothing patterns on your bare back. Your head rests on his broad chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. The intimacy of the moment is profound, the kind of peace that only comes after such intensity, when every barrier has been stripped away, leaving only raw, unfiltered affection in its wake.

His fingers slide through your silver hair, untangling the strands that had become tousled during your lovemaking, and you feel a contented sigh escape your lips. The connection between you is tangible, a bond forged not only in love but in shared trials, in the promises whispered in the dark and the strength you find in one another.

"Sometimes," you begin softly, your voice barely more than a murmur in the quiet of the room, "sometimes I wish I could be down there, in the thick of it, fighting alongside my mother. Facing the Greens with fire and blood, like we were meant to."

Cregan’s hand stills on your back for a moment before he resumes his gentle caresses. He knows how deeply the conflict weighs on you, how much you struggle with the separation from your mother and the battles you were born to fight. "You’re a warrior at heart, Y/N," he says, his voice low and full of understanding. "It’s in your blood, in your very soul. But you’re here now, and there’s strength in that too—in being the heart of this family, in raising our children with the knowledge of who they are and where they come from."

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his words. It’s not easy to be away from the fight, to know that your family is out there, risking their lives while you remain here, safe in the North. But Cregan is right—there is strength in what you’re doing here, in the life you’ve built together, in the legacy you’re creating.

"I know," you whisper, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart. "I know. But I’m grateful, Cregan. For this, for you, for everything we’ve found here in Winterfell. It’s more than I ever imagined for myself."

He shifts slightly, turning so that he can look down at you, his grey eyes dark and intense as they meet yours. There’s a tenderness there, a love so deep it nearly takes your breath away. "You’ve brought light to this place, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "You’ve made it a home, not just for me, but for everyone within these walls. You are the heart of Winterfell now, just as much as you were born both of Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I will always be grateful for that, for you."

You smile up at him, a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the fire. "And I, for you, my love," you reply softly, lifting your hand to trace the strong line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard beneath your fingers. "I never thought I could find such peace, such happiness, in a place so far from the warmth of the South. But here with you, it feels like I’ve found something even better. Something that feels like home."

He leans down to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, one that speaks of love and promises, of the future you’ll face together. When he pulls back, his gaze is serious, his expression thoughtful. "Winter will come soon," he says, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "The snow will fall heavier, and the North will sleep beneath its blanket of white. But when the spring sun melts the snow, when the rivers flow again and the ice recedes, the North will rise. And we will march south, to deliver the justice that has long been owed. Just as I promised you, Y/N. The time will come."

You see the resolve in his eyes, the fire of his conviction, and it stirs something within you—a spark of hope, of purpose. You’ve always known that the North was a place of endurance, of long winters and even longer memories. But with Cregan by your side, you also know it is a place of honor, of loyalty, and of promises kept.

"And I will be ready," you say, your voice firm with determination. "We will be ready. For whatever comes."

He nods, the tension in his expression easing as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal the promise between you. "But for now," he murmurs against your skin, "we have this. These moments, this peace. And we will hold on to it for as long as we can."

You close your eyes, letting his warmth and the steady beat of his heart lull you into a state of calm. The world outside can wait for now—the battles, the struggles, the uncertainties of the future. Here, wrapped in Cregan’s arms, you find solace, a reprieve from the weight of the world, and the strength to face whatever comes next.

As you drift off to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of the furs and the security of Cregan’s embrace, you feel a deep sense of contentment settle over you. The future may hold its challenges, but in this moment, all is well. You are together, and that is all that matters.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd cregan #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark

709 notes · View notes

soarrenbluejay · 8 months ago

Text

Supervillains for a community. (Well, except those jerks over in Gotham, insular lot, but they’re they’re one problem) Of course they do- supervillains are a group defined by strong opinions and a willingness to see them through, often with a healthy dash of societal failures and trauma as a catalyst.

The fentons, while not active even on the online message boards, are well known and explosive when they do show up, full of fascinating insights and hours long rants on mad science on hair pin turns courtesy of that ADHD attention span. Bit of the cryptids you feel honored to bump into kind of deal. Besides, like a good quarter of the community as it aged, they’d settled down and had kids (not necessarily in that order) and taken it very seriously! Out in the middle of nowhere, where even the most fearsome government outpost members, the local branch of the IRS, quake before them in fear. Out of the way.

Reveal gone okay-ish, Danny moves to Gotham still to get some air bc now things are Akward and he landed that engineering scholarship which is loads better than any other college would give him with his track record. So- the mysterious Fenton children are finally crawling out of hiding! Everyone is psyched! And roll in to Gotham en masse to witness the fireworks!

Except Danny is Determined To Be Normal. He’s had enough of the throwing himself into harms way shit for a lifetime- he wants to be free to peacefully built Rube Goldberg machines and unintentional increasingly complex bombs to his hearts content. JAZZ, on the other hand- the coveted token Normal One, has finally snapped! She’s watched her baby brother she practically raised throw himself into danger over and over and could do nothing, and now that she’s exposed to this whole network of superheroes outside of small town Amnity, some of those uglier emotions are coming out. And boy is she pissed! And can’t afford to show it much while filing the paperwork to have Arkham legally razed to the ground!

See I love this idea of like, niches in superhero society. A villain the heroes know they can plop their kiddo down with for an exciting afternoon brawl while they take care of a particularly grisly case and come back to a few hours later ranting about some new life lesson and a new move they really want to try. A villain who has a functioning moral compass despite their somewhat batshit long term goal and you can contact to fuck with another villains’s plan so they can laugh at them and you can have an easy afternoon. One who pries up hostile architecture and fills in pot holes, idk man. Get creative here, there’s such potential!

So Jazz becomes a Training villain- someone the heroes know their sidekicks will walk away from in a fight 100% of the time, usually with some new lesson to ponder and only a couple of bruises. Sometimes even snacks!

She also absolutely ambushes mentors to check that they’re worth the kiddo, which they appreciate once they get over being jumped in a dark alley by a 7 foot Amazon trained force of nature. They are not used to being on that side of the jumping, it’s a little unnerving.

(Yes, she low key adopts Shazam upon checking in with him on cursory ‘is the main hero of this city and asshole’ checkin. Yes, the super clones get yoinked out from under Superman’s negligent thumb to go have a blast with Ellie. What about it?)

This however only encourages more assorted weirdos to crawl out of the woodwork. It’s not often one of their own forfeits their potential spot for the running of the coveted Most Normal I Swear prize, but when they do it’s bound to be good! But jazz is off hounding various heroes and punching the faces in of pedophiles and shit whenever there’s no cape within easy reach, and so is a mite bit harder to contact than Danny, who has innocently gotten an apprenticeship under a clockworker for access to their workshop and is gleefully going about doing nerdy shit with great abandon.

Plus this is Gotham. No one gives a shit if someone in the Mad Alchemist uniform and still smoking from their latest experiment pokes their head in a window to bother the local shrimp teen- none of the usual social rules apply, everyone’s crazy here! So everyone drops any and all attempts at masking and just acts their genuine unhinged selves, much to the alarm of the Bats and frustration of Danny.

Bc he cannot get these mfers to go. Away. Even liberal use of the creep stick has little effect when the interloper is calibrated for an opponent with super speed or laser vision or whatever, and he’s trying to maintain his guise as a Normal College Student Do No Investigate.

So he calls in the big guns. He’s not super active in the supervillain kids group chat ever since things in amnity calmed the fuck down post becoming King and then immediately using a loophole that says he will not take the throne until he is grown, as defined by finishing learning his trade a la the medieval standards Pariah set up. So he can just take his sweet ass time with his graduate degree and out of inter dimensional bull shit that much longer! Point is, he hasn’t taken the chance to rant over there in a while, so his Crazy friends are getting a lil worried.

The change to come over and shout at their batshit crazy but (mostly) well meaning parent AND see Danny? Score!

The bats, however, are getting awfully suspicious about this one kid that villains from all over the country are flocking to, especially young and upcoming ones as of recently! And he’s acting his engineering course- all the worst rogues are known to have flown through their PhD studies prior to Cracking. They seem to have a real problem on their hands with this Fenton guy.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #mad science #supervillain community #bonus points if you can pull out some super niche comic villain #justice for kite man #local child of a crazy chemist: so you know that trick you showed me with the soda and the reaction that could turn into just like all foam #Danny: yeah and also back the fuck up #lcoacc: so it’s been like my comfort food right but like I started wondering what you could do #danny: oh no (he says while making what amounts of an overachieving smoke bomb)#lcoacc: so I was like what if I add more of a base to it so it could be solid and then maybe just like a LIL acid to see what happens #Danny: oh ancients #lcoacc: but then the killjoy supes came in a ruined everything from where I was ruining lex Luther’s day #Danny:… did you get in on camera #lcoacc: OF COURSE. oh also like everyone ever if coming over for a sleepover lol #Danny: WHAT I CANT FEED YOU MONSTERS #lcoacc: no worrries we’ll rob a bulk store or something lol #Danny: nO

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 9 months ago

Text

To the Moon and Back

Lando Norris x astronaut!Reader

Summary: not many people can say “I love you to the moon and back” literally … but you’re the exception

Based on this request

Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves 🫶

The roar of the engine echoes through the car as Lando revs the McLaren 720S Spider. You glance over at your boyfriend and can’t help but smile. His eyes are bright with excitement beneath his helmet.

“You ready for this, love?” He asks, giving your hand a quick squeeze.

You nod, adrenaline already pumping through your veins. “Let’s do it.”

As an astronaut, you’re no stranger to G-force. But taking a hot lap around the race track with Lando is a different kind of thrill. The track marshall gives a thumbs up and Lando eases the car out of the pit lane. He takes it easy for the first few turns, warming up the tires.

“How’s it feel?” He asks.

“Smooth,” you reply. “Can’t even tell we’re going 200.”

Lando grins. “Oh just wait.”

He floors it down the back straight, pinning you back against the seat as the speedometer climbs towards 320 kilometers per hour. The G-force builds as he brakes hard into the next corner, expertly controlling the slide.

You let out an exhilarated whoop. “Now that’s more like it!”

Lando chuckles. “Barely getting started, babe.”

The next few laps are a blur of adrenaline and speed. Lando dances the McLaren through the corners, braking impossibly late before powering out in a controlled slide. You relish the forces pressing you back into your seat, so similar yet so different from a rocket launch.

As you pull back into the pits, crowds of fans erupt into cheers. Lando parks the car and hops out, pausing to take off his helmet and run a hand through his curly hair before coming over to help you out.

“So, what did the astronaut think?” He asks with a playful grin.

You’re still catching your breath, heart pounding. "That was insane! What a rush."

Lando looks pleased, keeping an arm wrapped around you as you’re swarmed by fans seeking autographs and photos. Most want a moment with their favorite driver, but a few recognize you as well.

“She’s the astronaut girlfriend, right?” Someone asks.

You nod, giving a little wave. “Yep, that’s me!”

The fans seem impressed that you were able to handle Lando’s hot lap so easily.

“Wow, you took those Gs no problem!” A teenage girl remarks.

You laugh. “Well, I have some practice from launch and re-entry.”

“You must be fearless to be an astronaut,” adds an awe-struck boy.

“It’s intense for sure,” you agree. “But so rewarding.”

Lando smiles proudly, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “My girl’s a badass. Takes a lot more than some high-G corners to phase her!”

You laugh and pose for a few more photos before Lando regrettably has to head in to prep for free practice. After a quick kiss goodbye, you wander through the bustling paddock, enjoying the infectious excitement in the air on race day.

You’ve just grabbed a water bottle when you hear rapid footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

Turning, you see Lando’s performance coach approaching. He gives you a polite smile. “Got a minute?”

You nod. “For you, always. What’s up?”

He falls into step beside you. “I wanted to run something by you. Lando seems distracted lately during training and physio. Have you noticed anything off with him?”

You frown, thinking back over the last few weeks. Now that he mentions it, Lando has seemed a little distant at times.

“I have noticed he’s been quieter than usual,” you admit. “But I figured it was just nerves or fatigue going into the season.”

Jon nods thoughtfully. “Could be. I know he really wants to impress this year. But as his girlfriend, I thought maybe you’d have a better sense of if anything else is on his mind.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” you promise.

“Appreciate it,” Jon says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

You part ways and head out to the pit wall to watch the start of the race. But your mind is only partially on the action, thoughts preoccupied with concern for Lando. He’s normally so upbeat and energetic, but thinking back, you realize there has been a muted quality to him lately that is unusual. You wrack your brain trying to pinpoint if there was a specific incident that triggered this change, but come up empty.

After the podium, you pull Lando. “P3! What a freaking drive," you give him a quick kiss.

His eyes brighten momentarily. “Thanks, love. Feels good to start the season off strong.”

You study his face, wishing you could read his thoughts. “So … can we talk later? Maybe grab dinner in the city before heading back to the hotel?”

Lando shrugs. "Sure, I guess so."

You frown slightly. His response is lacking his normal enthusiasm. But the paddock is too crowded to dive deeper now. “Great, it’s a date!” You say brightly, taking his hand as you both head out to spray champagne. You’ll get to the bottom of this tonight.

After a flurry of post-race obligations, the two of you finally slip away to a quiet restaurant downtown. When the waiter steps away with your orders, you reach across the table to take Lando’s hand.

“So, what’s really going on?” You ask gently. “And don’t say nothing. Everyone can tell something’s been off lately.”

Lando sighs, avoiding your eyes. He runs his free hand through his curls. “It’s stupid, really …”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not stupid. Talk to me, babe.”

He’s quiet for a long moment before responding softly. “I’m worried I don’t deserve you.”

You rock back slightly, caught off guard. “What? Where is this coming from?”

Lando keeps his gaze down. “It’s just … you’re this badass astronaut. You literally go to space! And I’m just a guy who drives cars in circles.”

Your heart aches for the vulnerability in his voice. You give his hand another supportive squeeze. “Lando, you’re so much more than that. Yes, I love space. But racing is your passion and you’re incredible at it. You bring joy to so many people. That matters.”

‘I know, but …” Lando trails off uncertainly.

You lean forward, gently tipping his chin up. “No buts. You deserve the world. I’m the lucky one here.”

He finally meets your eyes. “Really?” The doubt is clear on his face.

“Really,” you confirm. “I fell for you, Lando. Not your job or your fame. Your kindness, your humor, your giant heart … that’s what I love.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “When you put it like that …”

“It’s the truth,” you say firmly.

Lando lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as the tension eases. “I’ve been in my own head about this for weeks. Should have just talked to you sooner.”

“Well, you have me now,” you remind him. “No more keeping worries bottled up, deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, lifting your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?”

You laugh. “It’s always nice to hear.” Your heart swells with happiness to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

Just then your food arrives, and Lando insists you try a bite of his pasta. The conversation flows easily again as you trade stories and banter. With the worry lifted from his shoulders, Lando’s charm and humor are on full display. By the time you meander hand in hand back to the hotel, the moon is high in the sky.

Lando pauses outside your door. “Thank you for tonight. And just … for everything. You’re my whole world.”

“I love you to the moon and back.” You gaze at him adoringly for a moment before adding, “Now, I believe a celebration is in order for that podium today …”

You open the door and pull him inside by his collar as he laughs. As you kiss him deeply, you make a silent promise to always be the safe space he can turn to when doubts creep in.

You’re the luckiest girl in the world to be loved by this incredible man. And you plan to spend every day proving he’s worthy of the same boundless love … to the moon and back.

***

You take a deep breath as you stare out the small window of the shuttle, watching the Earth get smaller and smaller as you ascend into the sky.

This is it. Your first mission to the moon.

You’ve dreamed of this moment since you were a little girl, gazing up at the glowing orb in the night sky and imagining yourself walking across its cratered surface.

As an astronaut with NASA, you’ve completed years of intense training to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the rigors of space travel. But nothing can fully ready you for the surge of emotions that hits you now as your childhood fantasy becomes reality.

Excitement.

Awe.

A twinge of nervousness.

And above all, gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to push the boundaries of human exploration. To boldly go where only a handful of people have gone before.

You think of Lando. How his eyes lit up when you got the call informing you that you had been selected for this mission. How he immediately started planning a big celebratory dinner, inviting all your friends and family. How he held you tight before you left for quarantine and launch preparations, whispering “I’m so proud of you” and “I love you to the moon and back.”

Your relationship with Lando has always been anchored in mutual love, trust and encouragement. As a Formula 1 driver, he understands the demands and dangers of your job, the laser focus it requires. When he races, you’re trackside or glued to the TV, cheering him on. When it’s your turn to take the spotlight, he’s equally in your corner, hyping you up and telling anyone who’ll listen that his girl is an astronaut headed to space.

You chuckle thinking back to when you first met Lando at an Engineering for the Next Generation event. Him in his McLaren gear, standing out like a beacon in bright papaya. You in your crisp blue flight suit, NASA insignia shining. Sparks didn’t just fly, they erupted into fireworks.

Fast forward five years and here you both are, thriving in your dream careers, happily together and each other’s biggest fans.

Your daydreaming is interrupted by the voice of the commander crackling over your headset. “Prepare for trans-lunar injection burn.”

It’s time.

You watch attentively as the burn commences, adjusting the shuttle’s trajectory until you’ve escaped Earth’s gravity and are hurtling towards the moon.

The next few days pass in a blur of course corrections, equipment checks, meals, sleep, and anticipation. Then finally, the moment arrives. You feel the shuttle tremble as the engines fire, slowing you down until you achieve lunar orbit insertion.

For the first time, you’re gazing upon the entirety of the moon’s pockmarked surface rather than just a slice of it in the night sky. It’s simultaneously familiar and foreign, a world both near and far.

“We are go for powered descent,” comes the voice of Mission Control. The shuttle shudders as the lander separates, ferrying you and your crewmates down to the awaiting surface. Through the window you watch the grey, dusty terrain rise up to meet you. A perfect landing kicks up plumes of powder.

You’ve arrived.

Stepping outside in your bulky space suit, you marvel at the stark beauty surrounding you. The pitch black sky, dotted more vividly with blazing stars than you could have ever imagined. The rolling plains and hills in muted grays. The unfiltered rays of the sun overhead. And above all, the profoundly silence, unlike anything you’ve experienced on noisy Earth.

You bend down and scoop up some lunar soil, letting it sift through your gloved fingers.

The next two days pass swiftly, filled with collecting samples, setting up experiments, and traversing the alien landscape. Too soon, it’s time to depart. As the shuttle lifts off in a spray of dust, you take one last look at the moon’s cratered face, etching it into your memory.

Returning to Earth, you’re met with great fanfare. Lando wraps you in an enormous bear hug, his relief and elation at having you home safe and sound is infectious. “I’ve missed you so much! Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he holds you tight and refuses to let go.

At the dinner he’s arranged, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you regale everyone with stories about your lunar experience.

Walking in spaces so silent your own heartbeat sounded thunderous. The inexplicable lightness in your limbs from the reduced gravity. Seeing Earth hover above the horizon, a blue and white marble in the void. The sense of wonder at walking upon a heavenly sphere humans have gazed upon for millennia but few have ever touched.

“I’ve always loved you to the moon and back,” you tell Lando, taking his hand. “Now I can say I’ve literally loved you to the moon and back.”

You see his eyes widen as you pull out a small pouch and tip glittering gray dust into his palm — a moon rock. “A little piece of the moon, just for you,” you close his fingers around it.

Lando is momentarily speechless, touched beyond words by your gesture. Then a grin spreads across his face. “You are simply out of this world,” he laughs. “This is going in my trophy case for sure!”

Over the next year, Lando has the moon rock fashioned into a ring, which he wears on race days for good luck. Sure enough, he scores his first ever victory that season, a thrilling achievement after years of near misses and podium finishes.

Standing on top of the podium, Lando whoops and thrusts his trophy high. Then he gazes straight into your eyes and says words meant only for you. “This one’s for the person who has always loved me to the moon and back.”

You beam with joy, pride surging through you. In that moment, all the years of supporting each other through the highs and lows to follow your passions feel profoundly worth it. Because at the end of the day, whether it’s launching into space or racing on Earth, you’re always each other’s biggest fans, connected by a love deeper than any distance — even 768,800 kilometers to the moon and back.

1K notes · View notes

oppopotamus · 2 months ago

Note

The other hashiras have been noticing that sanemi has been less agressive the past few days and they start to wonder not knowing that sanemi gets his stress fucked out of him whenever he's home by his hubby that was married assigned to him by kagaya 🙀😽

Can be a Req if you feel up to it!!

first time seeing bottom sanemi truthers out here

De-stress

omg this was so yummy thank youuu

Warning: NSFW, spanking ig?, rough-ish sex,

"Haven't you noticed?" Mitsuri whispers in Obanai's ear, they were eating lunch together, watching from afar as Sanemi was training.

"What do you mean?" Obanai asks, raising one of his eyebrows, Kaburamaru sitting lazily on his shoulder.

"Sanemi, of course! He's been so... normal," she says, sounding completely confused even at her own words.

Truthfully, Sanemi has been a lot more normal lately, or at least a lot nicer. He didn't yell or scream so much, unless somebody actually deserved it, which was pretty rare.

All the Hashira have noticed, it was extremely obvious since Sanemi was just so... polite.

Nobody knew why, except for Sanemi and his husband, of course.

Any time Sanemi was home, he enjoyed his time with his husband, he adored him so much... at first he didn't, considering Kagaya had practically forced them to get married, 'it would be good for you' is what Kagaya said to Sanemi, Sanemi disagreed at first but eventually gave in and accepted.

He quickly fell deeply in love with you, much to his, and your, surprise.

Now, he had just returned from a long mission, he had been gone for about two weeks until he was finally able to return home.

The second he walked inside, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw that his husband was already home from his own job.

"(Name)..." Sanemi muttered as he dropped his blade and kicked his shoes off before practically collapsing into your chest.

"Hello to you too," you said with a small chuckle, almost immediately wrapping your arms around Sanemi, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Miss me?" you joked.

"Missed your dick, yeah..."

You let out a surprised laugh at Sanemi's vulgar words, not at all expecting them. "Wow, you really did miss me, huh?"

"Mhm," was all Sanemi mumbled, snuggling impossibly close to your chest, as if he were trying to melt into you.

"Okay, okay, come on," you said, holding Sanemi tightly as you walked him backwards to the couch. Sanemi fell back onto the couch and looked up at you.

For the rest of the night you two simply snuggled on the couch together, doing nothing more than relaxing and spending time together. It was completely peaceful until the next day when you woke up to Sanemi angrily yelling in the kitchen.

"What the hell going on right now?" you asked as you stepped into the kitchen, looking Sanemi up and down as he angrily shouted about something as he searched through the kitchen cabinets.

"What?" he snapped, spinning around to face you. "Oh, only the fact that I have another fucking Hashira meeting and I can't find my fucking sword!" he shouted, his own hands gripping his hair and tugging it in frustration.

You sighed and walked up to your husband before grabbing his waist and spinning him around, then bending him over the kitchen countertop.

"Wha- get the fuck off of me!" Sanemi shouted angrily, squirming in your grip in a weak attempt to break free. "Not a chance," you began, holding onto the back of his head with one hand, keeping him squashed against the kitchen countertop.

"You need to calm down, and don't you worry, I know exactly how to help you relax."

It wasn't much later when Sanemi was still bent over the kitchen counter, now naked with you pinning his hands behind his back as you fucked in and out of him, his moans and cries filling the room.

"Mm- ufgh... t-too- too m-much...!" he called out, his voice broken and needy as tears of ecstasy spilled down his cheeks, his eyes rolled back into his skull.

You huffed and tightened your grip on his wrists which were held down by your right hand, your other hand on Sanemi's shoulder, keeping him in place.

'U-Umph..! P-Please!!" he cried, his body being pushed back and forth against the countertop with each of your thrusts, the edge of the countertop pushed against his stomach uncomfortably, but he barely noticed it, his complete attention was on the rough, unforgiving thrusts as you pounded into his tight hole.

You let out a breathless laugh, your thrusts getting slightly sloppy as you got closer and closer to your climax. "Haah- you love it rough, dirty boy," you groaned and removed your hand from Sanemi's shoulder to spank his ass, watching the flesh jiggle.

"Ngh-!" he whined and his thighs trembled at the spank, it hurt, but he loved it, it was so hot to him whenever your hand came down on his ass.

"Mph- m' g-gonna come-" he whined, his fists clenching and unclenching with each thrust. "Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby doll?" you asked, earning a quick nod from Sanemi.

"P-Please... lemme... tell- tell me-" he began, getting cut off with a loud moan as you gave a particularly hard thrust, he couldn't even finish his sentences anymore.

You knew exactly what he wanted, or needed rather. "Come for me, baby," you ordered, giving him permission to come, to which he eagerly did, cum spurting from his cock and onto the kitchen counters. You followed not long after, finishing in his tight little hole, filling him up just how he liked.

Sanemi had finally calmed down once again.

#male reader #male reader smut #dom male reader #top male reader #male reader blog #demon slayer #demon slayer x male reader #sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi

855 notes · View notes

bucks-babe · 7 months ago

Text

Heated Punishment

Pairing: Omega!Bucky x Alpha!reader

Summary: Omega Bucky goes into heat, but his alpha isn’t too happy with him when he tries to hide from her

Warnings: Smut, mommy kink, omega!Bucky, sub!Bucky, soft!dom reader, also mean!dom reader, Bucky gets a boner fighting Natasha, handjob, edging, cock slapping, exhibitionism?, dirty talk, masturbation (Bucky), handcuffs, sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, turns into free use?, begging, crying during sex (I have a problem), subspace, way too much cum but I couldn’t help myself, aftercare, worried Bucky

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Written with the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier and this was her idea so go give her some love! She really helped me so much with the direction of this fic. I can say that's the best a/b/o story i have ever read. And I'm in love with that! You should definitely give it a try because your panties will be destroyed with so much arousal — you didn't know you have such an amount down there!

Bucky grunts, dodging another punch thrown at him by Natasha. They had been going at it for hours, pinning each other down, punching and kicking. Even though he was a super soldier, he was an omega. His natural instinct was to submit to the alpha in front of him. If he was any other omega he would have, but the years of training kept his mind clear.

“C’mon, Buck, that all you got?” He growls at her taunt, throwing his next punch into her side, too fast for her to move out of the way. She gasps, leaning over to catch her breath before flinging her head back up. “You hit like a girl.” Natasha’s words pissed him off, not wanting to be shown up by the alpha in front of him, but it was getting hard for him to resist submitting to her.

He’s never struggled this much. He had his own alpha that took care of him, but right now, the unmated alpha before him was stirring something inside of him. Natasha stopped for a second, sniffing the air before her eyes darkened. She could smell his heat. About to call off the match, not wanting to be near her best friend’s omega right before his heat, she lets her guard down, only for Bucky to pin her to the ground, straddling her.

Natasha gasps at the sudden impact on her back, even more surprised when Bucky whines, high pitched and needy. His hips buck into her stomach unconsciously, jerking back when he realizes his cock is hard and throbbing. A whimper leaves his lips, he got hard for another alpha. He didn’t want Natasha, but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted.

“I-I’m sorry, alpha, I didn’t mean to-” Shame fills his body. How could he betray his alpha like this? The only person to take care of him in 80 years.

“Bucky, it’s not your fault. You’re about to go into heat.” His head shoots up. Bucky didn’t even realize he was going into heat. Now he feels even worse. Another alpha was near him when he was about to go into heat.

Without stopping, Bucky gets up and runs straight past your room and straight into his. Not wasting a second to jump into the shower and wash away his disgust. His cock is still hard, precum steadily leaking from his tip. He wants to touch himself so bad, to give himself some sort of relief, but he can’t. He didn’t get this erection from you, not deserving to pleasure himself.

The longer he is in the shower, however, the harder his cock begs for friction, balls heavy with cum, desperate to relieve the pressure building up. One touch won’t hurt, right? His hand sneaks down his slick body slowly inching his way to his cock. He barely touches himself when the door to the bathroom shoots open. Without a second thought, Bucky pulls his hand away, turning to see you enter the bathroom, and you are pissed.

“Omega!” Bucky felt his cock pulse at your anger, finding it sexy. He whimpers, balls filling up with more cum. “You think you could get away with the stunt you pulled earlier? Think Natasha wouldn’t tell me how your dick got hard, humping her like a dirty slut? You think your alpha wouldn’t want to know you were in heat? What? Did you not want your alpha to take care of you?” Even through his lust filled haze, he can hear the hurt in your voice.

“No! I didn’t know I was in heat! Would have came to you, alpha. I was ashamed. Didn’t want you to be mad at me.” Bucky gulps, even through his fear, his cock still pulses, hot and heavy, ready for his alpha to take him.

You growl, the sound sending shivers down his spine, making his hips buck into the air and he moans. “You think this is funny, Omega?” You storm over to the shower, turning the water off and pulling Bucky out, not bothering to dry him off.

“Get on the fucking bed.” He has never seen you so mad, not at him anyway. The omega in him was bouncing around, trying to decide if he thought this was hot, or if he just wanted to be a good boy for you. Both, he wanted both. You sat him down on the edge of the bed, straddling his lap.

“Wanna be a dirty whore? Then you’re going to be treated like one.” Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking it hard and fast, not easing him into it at all.

“Fuck, alpha, so fucking good. So hard for you.” You pull your hand away but before Bucky can complain, your hand comes back down, slapping his cock, making it jolt around. “SHIT! Why did you do that?” You don’t answer him, only hitting him again, harder this time. “PLEASE.” You give him one more slap before pulling your hand away.

“You know why you got your dick slapped, Omega?” Bucky shakes his head. “Because you’re a liar. You’re not hard for me, are you? No, you got hard for another alpha.”

“Only hard for you, promise.” You don’t say anything back, only jerking his cock harder and faster than before. “Alpha, gonna cum, gonna cum, please.” And just like that, you pull away and stand, turning around and about to head to the bathroom to shower. “Alpha! Where are you going? Please! Cock so hard. Hurts. Need you to help, balls are so fucking full.”

Turning back to him, you tilt your head. “You think you deserve to cum when you’re acting like a little whore, just because you’re in heat?” You stalk over to him, like he was your prey. You grab his jaw, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Get dressed, we’re going to movie night.” Letting go of his jaw with more force than necessary, you turn and walk away. “And don’t you dare think about touching your cock.”

Bucky scrambles to get dressed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that was inside out, not caring that he was still soaking wet from his shower. He follows you, sneaking into the bathroom only to be caught when a heady moan slips from him. Cock pulsing with every beat of his heart. “You wanna watch your alpha shower, but you better not touch your cock. That is only for me. You hear me?” Bucky frantically nods his head, agreeing to anything you say.

He pants as he watches you strip, each piece of clothing you remove making his balls heavier. Without a glance back to him, you get in the shower, not bothering to close the curtain. With so much blood rushing to his dick, Bucky feels lightheaded, needing to sit down on the bathroom floor, looking up at his alpha, pupils completely blown.

He swears he could cum just at the sight of you, body soaking wet, soap suds making your body slick. His hand moves to his dick unconsciously, needing some relief. His cock was starting to become too painful, balls needing to be drained. “You’re getting yourself into more and more trouble, omega.” That knocks Bucky out of his stupor, pulling his hand away, still left unsatisfied.

The rest of your shower is uneventful, Bucky finally listening, even though you don’t give in to his whines about his cock and balls. Scenting him before you leave, he follows you like a lost puppy, the bulge in his pants extremely noticeable.

The two of you are there first and you walk Bucky to the most secluded area in the room, where no one could see the two of you. You cover the both of you up with a blanket, making sure that the others won’t be able to see his cock about to burst. The others arrive not too long after and you can see the other alphas take a deep breath faintly smelling the scent of Bucky’s heat, only hidden by your scent.

Bucky tries to hide himself behind you, the omega in him desperate to get away from the other alphas, only wanting to be surrounded by you. The further he crawls into you, the harder it is to resist dragging him back to your room and fucking him until he passes out.

You have to be the strong one now, making Bucky wait until he physically can’t anymore. Eventually, the other alphas settle down and everyone is watching the movie. Well everyone except for you and Bucky. Your omega is curled up into you like he was trying to live inside your skin. Usually, you would think it’s cute, but right now he is testing your will.

He finds the small crack in your disposition and you sneak your hand over, resting it on his thigh under the blanket. His entire body tenses, desperate for any type of release. You slowly move your hand up his thigh, feeling how impossibly hard your mate is. He has to bite your shoulder to stop the pornographic moan that leaves him, lucky that an action scene is unfolding on screen.

You only get a few strokes of your hand before you stop, pulling your hand away, knowing that he was about to cum. The look Bucky gives you is wild; like he was a feral animal, caged and ready to pounce at any given moment. It makes you smirk and the rest of your restraint leaves your body.

Grabbing his wrist, you pull the both of you up and leave the room, not saying a word to anyone. As soon as you get inside your room you push Bucky down on the bed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at your display of dominance. “Strip, omega.” It was a simple order, one that Bucky had no problem following. While he was frantically throwing his clothes across the room, you head over to the dresser, pulling out one of your favorite toys - a cock ring.

When Bucky sees what you’re holding, he whines, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, hoping that you won't use it on him, at least not tonight. Not when his balls are so heavy, so full of cum that it is painful. He needs to cum in you, he can’t wait, but you’re not playing fair.

“Ah, ah, none of that now. You know why I’m using this right?” Bucky doesn’t know how it happened, but you’re naked, slowly walking over to him.

“Because I was bad, alpha.” Heat rises to his cheeks, never wanting to disappoint his alpha.

You sigh, dropping to the bed to grab his cock. You don’t even need to use any lube to work the ring down his cock. He’s been leaking precum all day. If you looked at the front of his sweatpants you would see the huge wet stain on the front. His entire cock was slick, precum still steadily dripping from his tip.

He hisses at your bare hand touching him, attempting to buck his hips up to get more friction. You just pull your hand off and slap his thigh. After he calms down you work the ring to the base of his cock. You purposefully chose a size that was just too small for him, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t cum without permission.

“No, omega, that’s not why you have to wear the ring. You have to wear the ring because you act like a bitch in heat as soon as you’re in my pussy.” Bucky’s toes curl, hips jerk, and he lets out a shameless moan making you glad Tony had soundproofed the walls.

“Please, alpha, promise I won’t cum until you tell me. My balls are so fucking heavy, need to fuck you, please.” Tears well up in Bucky’s eyes, needing some type of release. You aren’t fairing much better, cunt throbbing to be filled with his cock.

You straddle his waist, grabbing his cock and sitting down without preamble, not wasting a second to start bouncing on him. “ALPHA, FUCK M’GONNA CUM.” He could feel it, could feel the cum trying to make its way out of his balls and up his cock, but it couldn’t, the cock ring too tight around him, not letting anything get past.

“Gonna cum already? Barely been inside me.” The moans Bucky lets out completely drown out yours.

“Please, please, take it off, let me cum. Will be so good to you, please. Need it so bad. Cock hurts, alpha, please make it stop.” There was a constant stream of tears running down your pretty omega’s face, too lost in pleasure to form a coherent sentence, only able to beg you to drain his sack for him.

His hands fly to your hips, feet planting on the bed so he can thrust up into you harder and harder. The feeling of his cum filled sack slapping against your ass almost makes you cum; however, your omega knows better, he knows not to try and take control when you haven’t told him to. No matter how good it felt to be pounded into like his own personal fleshlight, you have to punish your omega for breaking the rules.

Pushing his arms off of you, you pull yourself off his cock. “Alpha, nonono, come back, need to feel your pussy, can’t be outside of it, need my cock back in, please!” There wasn’t a single thought in his brain, only the carnal need to fuck your pussy until his balls were empty and his cock was too sensitive to keep going.

Instead of listening to his begging, you get off the bed once again, heading back to the dresser to get out three pairs of handcuffs. Before you even turn around you hear the shlickshlickshlick of Bucky fucking his fist as fast as he can, trying and failing to coax an orgasm out of himself. Shaking your head, you turn around, Bucky’s eyes rake over your body, not stopping the assault on his cock until you get to the bed and grab them, placing them over his head.

“You wanna be bad? Then you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.” Bucky can’t even find the strength to protest, letting you move his hands to the headboard, cuffing one hand and passing the cuff through a bedpost before cuffing the other.

You look him in the eyes, red and puffy, yet still blown. He knows what you want. “Not too tight, feels good.” With a nod you move down to his left leg, pulling in diagonal to the post at the bottom, handcuffing it. You look up at him, only moving to the next leg when he nods. You do the same to his right leg, but this time he shakes his head. “Little too tight, alpha.” When you go to loosen the cuff Bucky frantically shakes his head. “It’s okay alpha, you don’t have to loosen it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing that he’s only saying that because he’s in subspace, not wanting to disappoint you, willing to be uncomfortable just to make you happy. “Omega, you know better than that. You know that your alpha doesn’t like when you lie to her.” Bucky hangs his head in shame as you loosen the handcuff and put it on again. As you crawl back on his lap you grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “You know not to lie to your alpha, but since you’re so pussy drunk, I’ll let you get away with it this one time.”

When he looks back into your eyes, you slam yourself down again, riding him with renewed vigor. You could hear the clink of the handcuffs as he tries to pull against them, desperate to thrust up into you, or even touch any part of you. “Oh, fuck mommy, please let me cum, feel like my balls are going to burst, they’re so heavy.” With all his whining, Bucky was pushing you closer to the edge. He was slipping further and further into subspace, bringing out the most submissive side of him. The little jerks of his hips making your pussy leak more.

“Are you gonna wait for your mommy to cum, huh? Don’t you want to feel her milk you cock dry?”

A desperate whine leaves his mouth, eyes locked into your tits, just watching them bounce, mouth slackjaw. “Yesyesyes, wanna make you cum, wanna feel you around me.”

With every bounce, you grind your hips down, the coarse curls at the base of him rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm bubbling up, tightening a knot in your belly. “Yeah, Omega? Gonna make your mommy cum? Gonna make her cream all over your dick?”

Bucky can only nod, puff of air leaving his lips in between salacious groans. He can feel his cock swell, his knot growing at the base of him, increasing the pressure from the ring, making it painful. “Mommy, think-think I’m gonna blow.”

“Hold it baby, mommy’s almost there.” You speed up your hips, feeling the size of his cock get bigger and bigger. “My little clit is fucking pulsing, baby, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make your mommy so proud of you.”

It all happens at once. The swell of his cock too much and the ring holding his orgasm in place breaks, flying onto the bed somewhere. At that exact moment, his cock practically explodes with cum. “MOMMY, OH FUCK. OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT. TOO MUCH.” Bucky was screaming, the soundproofed walls doing nothing to hide the sounds of his orgasm. “Fuck, so much cum. Mommy, why won’t it stop, can’t stop cumming, fuuucckk.”

Your pussy clenches around his cock, cumming just as hard as him, cunt trying desperately to keep his load inside even though it is futile. You can’t even make a sound, eyes rolling back, body convulsing around his, you fall onto his chest, feeling the shake of his whole body.

“Mhmmmmm, mommy, leaking so much, getting my cum all over, fuck, my balls are still so fucking heavy, need to fill you again, can I mommy? Please want to keep fucking you.” You can’t even feel your fucking toes and his cock is still rock hard inside of you.

Mustering up all the strength left in your body, you get up and undo his handcuffs from his hands and feet. As soon as his hands are free, they fly down to his cock, one hand wildly stroking his cock, his other hand fondling his balls, trying to tempt another load out of himself. When his feet are free, he plants them on the bed, bucking his hip uncontrollably, moaning so hysterically almost thought he was in pain.

“Please, come back, mommy. Want to cum in your pussy.” You flop down on the bed, laying on your stomach, for you being the alpha out of the two of you, sometimes you just couldn’t keep up with him.

“Use your mommy how you want, omega, make yourself feel good.” The poor thing was practically sobbing at this point, so needy to fuck you. Bucky doesn’t waste any time, hastily straddling your ass, slipping his dick back into its rightful home.

“Yesyesyes, s’goods’good, can’t stop, mommy, needed this so bad.” Without warning Bucky squats over you, slamming his hips into yours. The clap of your ass against his hips causes your ass to bounce. He watches with rapt attention, almost wailing at the sight, another load about to leave his cock. “Mommy, your ass is so fucking hot. How does it move like that, oh shit. Bout to cum again, can’t fucking stop it.”

Bucky can’t stop fucking you, not even when his knot swells, just rutting against you as much as he can until it goes down, letting him pull his cock out almost all the way before slamming right back in.

His cock dragging against your walls over and over again, stretching you in the most delicious way, is almost too much. You can’t help but moan anyway, fighting with yourself if you want to push him away or beg for more. His thrusts only get more and more frantic, desperately searching for another orgasm.

“Mommy, want you to cum for me again. Please give it to me.” He rolls his hips, each stroke hitting your sweet spot without fail.

“Can’t, omega, just want you to make yourself feel good, just want you to fill me up until you’re satisfied.” This only makes Bucky thrust even harder and a loud keen leaves your lips.

“I need you to cum, mommy. Just one more, please, just give me one more, I swear, s’all I want.” You couldn’t deny your sweet omega when he was begging so beautifully. There was no way your body wouldn’t listen to the pleas of your mate.

His hips slap against yours even faster, the coil in your belly getting tighter, feeling like it was about to break. “Fuck, ‘mega, gonna cum for you.” The only sound Bucky can get out is a breathy Uh huh.

You can feel the swell of his knot, the friction doing nothing to slow Bucky’s movements. “Yeah, mommy, I want your cum, need your cum, please.” His begging was the final straw, your orgasm washing over you. Blinding white pleasure thrums throughout your body, pussy clenching so hard that Bucky’s knot pops, locking him to you as he pumps his cum in your welcoming hole. “Mommy, you’re making my cock feel so fucking good, giving you so much cum, can’t stop it.”

You can’t even hear Bucky’s whines and groans as he rides out his final orgasm of the night, too lost in your own pleasure, blood rushing through your ears, barely feeling Bucky collapse on your back, legs no longer able to hold himself up. You don’t know how long it takes for the both of you to come down, but by the time you do his knot has deflated, yet his cock stays buried in the warmth of your cunt.

The weight of his body is soothing, helping to ground yourself after such an intense session, but your omega is pure muscle and soon you’re struggling to breath. “Can’t breathe, ‘mega, need you to roll over.” Bucky whines and rolls the both of you over on your sides, keeping his cock nestled inside of you.

You know that Bucky needs to be held and taken care of no matter how much you just want to lay down and sleep with him. Bucky whines when you leave his arms, cock slipping out of you. “It’s okay, omega, let your alpha take care of you, just gotta get you cleaned up.” The pout on his face makes it almost impossible for you to leave him, but you have to in order to clean him up.

As quickly as you can, you head to the bathroom, trying to ignore the copious amount of cum leaking down your legs. After peeing and cleaning yourself up, you grab the softest washcloth and wet it with warm water and walk back to the bed to find Bucky still pouting and waiting for you.

A small giggle leaves your lips as you climb back into bed. Before you move to clean him up you look at him, silently asking him for permission to touch his spent cock. Of course he does, nodding his head in confirmation, just wanting his alpha to take care of him. He tries not to wiggle too much when you bring the cloth to his sensitive skin. You move as fast as you can while still being cautious of overstimulating him even further, not wanting to draw it out, throwing the rag somewhere across the room so you could pull him to your chest after getting under the covers.

“Alpha?” Bucky’s voice is soft and timid, slightly muffled by his face in the crook of your neck.

“Yes, omega.” Your voice is welcoming, trying to ease his worry.

“Were you really mad at me earlier? With what happened with Natasha.” You could feel his whole body tense, worried that he was a bad omega.

Pulling him up to look him in the eyes you can’t help but to feel your heart break at the uncertainty that covers his face. “Of course not, omega, I know that it was just your body’s response and you didn’t actually want her. I would never blame you for something you can’t control. But I would like it if you came to me to help you, not hiding away from me. But if I did anything to make you feel less than I need you to tell me. Did you not like it when I talked to you like that?”

Bucky frantically shakes his head no. “No, alpha, I loved it, I just-” His eyes break off from yours, heat creeping up his face.

“Oh, ‘mega, is your brain feeling fuzzy right now?” He gets this way sometimes, when he is so deep in subspace that nothing makes sense except for his alpha, knowing how much he was loved and cared for.

Bucky only nods, not having the energy to speak. “That’s okay. Just lay down with me and get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Could I have a kiss, please.” A small smile crosses your face, eyes scrunching up. How could you say not to your perfect omega. Leaning up, you give Bucky a gentle kiss, conveying all the love you feel for him, all the love that you can’t put into words. That was all Bucky needed to lay his head down on your chest, wrapping his arms around you, cuddling you like a teddy bear knowing that he was safe from everything and everyone when he was in your arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #omegaverse #omega bucky barnes #omega!bucky #alpha!reader

785 notes · View notes

jaythes1mp · 5 months ago

Text

5070 words, 29086 characters, 239 sentences, 116 paragraphs, 20.3 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Please send me requests. I love writing but I can only do it with actual ideas to motivate me🙏

On your late-night journey home, you're cornered by one of the numerous street criminals prowling the streets of this cursed city. Getting mugged in Gotham isn't anything out of the ordinary, but even still, you can't help but feel surprised. It seemed that strangely enough, the past four years, thugs had begun to avoid you like the plague.

This was a situation you hadn't found yourself in since you were just a fifteen-year-old kid, still struggling to find your footing in the grimy underbelly of Gotham.

The street thug pinned you against the wall, holding you in place while her accomplice jabbed the cold barrel of a gun against your head.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, fear and panic clawing their way up your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, a cold sweat pricking at your skin as you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

As the cold metal of the gun was pressed harshly against your temple, you fought to tamp down the tremors shaking your body. You knew that any wrong move could spell disaster, so you forced yourself to remain still, praying that the thugs would be merciful enough to let you free.

Your mind raced as thoughts of the worst-case scenarios flickered through your mind. The thug with the gun pressed against your head sneered, her grip on your shoulder growing tighter as she spat out a threat.

The sheer terror you felt in that moment was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. The harsh reality of the situation settled on your shoulders like a crushing weight. You were all too aware that you had no experience in dealing with situations like this, leaving you feeling vulnerable and powerless. Your eyes squeezed closed, a lump forming in your throat.

The rough brick of the wall dug into your chest, the cool air of the night doing nothing to soothe the panicked frenzy of your heart. The thug's hand on your shoulder was a vice-like grip, their fingers digging deep into your flesh.

In times like these, you regretted ever turning down the self-defense classes that your old employer had offered. The weight of that decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you longed to have the skills to protect yourself from the imminent danger.

You silently berated yourself for your naivety and carelessness. It had been foolish to believe that just because the villains had avoided you for the past few years, you would be safe from any harm. Yet, here you were, pressed against a wall, a gun held to your head by street thugs.

As your thoughts ran wild, your mind spiraled into a whirlpool of grim possibilities. The thought of your friends' reactions to your potential death played through your mind - the pain and grief they would feel upon losing you. You wondered if Damian would be upset about his sketchbook, the most constant connection you had to him. If Jason would be filled with anger at the inconvenience of tidying up your belongings, if your... no. She’d probably find relief in your absence... You wondered if Tim would shed tears in sadness. The image of him crying, tears streaming down his face, left a bitter taste in your mouth. Then you thought of Bruce. Would he be disappointed you never got to accept his offer? Your thoughts spiralled as you got increasingly more upset. Who was going to feed your pet turtle...? Would she think you abandoned her?

The weight of those unanswered questions gnawed at your thoughts, the possible reactions of your friends, pet, and the people who had offered you a place to call home. Your mind latched onto the image of them crying, the thought of any of their tears causing a pang of anguish to settle deep within your chest. You didn't want to imagine your friends' pain upon your loss, but the what-ifs haunted your mind like a relentless ghost.

The rough bricks of the wall dug into your chest, the sharp edges of the broken and uneven surface biting into your vulnerable flesh. The cold, unforgiving metal of the gun against your skull pressed further against your skin, an imminent threat hanging in the air. You clenched your teeth together, fighting to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape from the back of your throat.

Damian's heart raced in his chest, thumping out a rapid rhythm against his ribcage. Disbelief and anger twisted his features into a fierce scowl. From his stealthy perch on a nearby rooftop, he had silently tracked your movements throughout the night, his gaze never straying far from your form. But now, as he watched intently as you were cornered by a bunch of worthless thugs, his protective instincts surged through his veins. How dare these lowly criminals think they had the right to touch you?! Especially after all the efforts he had expended to ensure your safety. You were his sibling.

The sight of you in danger ignited a fire within him, burning hot with both rage and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he have let this happen? He had been so careful, making sure to keep watch over you from a distance, and yet here you were, at the mercy of criminals who were nothing but scum. His fingers dug into the edge of the rooftop, the urge to leap down and intervene overpowering his self-control. He didn’t have to think twice before swinging into action.

Damian swiftly made his way toward you, propelled by the rooftops with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed his face as he bounded between buildings, his agility and precision a testament to his years of training. He remained hidden from view, his black, yellow and grey costume blending into the shadows, allowing him to quietly approach the scene unnoticed.

As he drew nearer, he could hear the thug's threats, the cold barrel of the gun pressing closer to your head. His temper flared, a dangerous heat building in his chest. These worthless lowlifes were going to pay for putting you in danger.

Robin, perched high above, kept a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene. Every word from the thug's mouth only fueled his anger. He assessed the area, taking in every detail with a cold, calculated gaze. The street was eerily silent, devoid of any other souls. No potential witnesses or interruptions to hinder his intervention. This moment was perfect. A chance to make these pathetic thugs pay for their audacity. They dared to touch what was his.

Each breath Damian took was measured and steady, his heart drumming steadily in his chest. He knew he had to act swiftly and with precision. He couldn't afford any mistakes. You were his responsibility – his blood. No one was allowed to touch you. No one.

Robin’s muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. His eyes flickered between the thugs and their guns, mentally calculating the best course of action. His instincts were on high alert, every fibre of his being focused on the mission: protecting you.

He’ll make a mental note to have you under tighter security starting in the immediate future.

With a final, calculated assessment, Robin silently prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. He would protect you at all costs. The thought of you getting hurt, because of his carelessness, was unacceptable. He would eliminate these fools before they could even think to touch you again.

The woman holding you, pinned your arms behind your back in a rough and painful grip. Their hold was unyielding, causing your arms to bend in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. You couldn't help but let out a small, pained whimper, the sharpness of the maneuver making you wince.

Your eyes pinched shut, and you forced yourself to take deep, measured breaths. It was your attempt to steady yourself, to hold back the wave of panic and fear that was overtaking you.

Your chest heaved with the force of each breath, trying to regulate your racing heart. A small shiver ran through your body, the fear and helplessness of the situation gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pressure of the woman's grip on your arms made you want to squirm and struggle, but you steeled yourself against the natural inclination.

Robin, like a silent wraith, leaped into action. His katanas moved in a blur, swiping the gun away from the goons' grasps before they could even register the movement. His presence was both dangerous and deadly, every muscle tensed and coiled like a predator ready to pounce. His sharp, grey eyes fixated on the thugs, a silent warning in their depths.

A sharp gasp slipped past your lips as the cold metal of the gun abruptly lifted away from your head. The sound of it banging loudly against the gritty, dirtied concrete ground echoed through the air, the sudden absence releasing a tiny bit of the tension that had been coiling painfully in your chest.

You stayed still, barely breathing, your body locked in the woman's tight and cruel grasp. Her hold on you was unrelenting, an indication that any wrong move would result in snapped bones. You couldn't turn your head to see what was happening, fear and pain keeping you rooted in place.

The woman's grip on your arms tightened, a painful reminder of the danger of any movement. You were trapped, unable to see what was happening behind you. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to struggle and get away, but the fear of severe injury made you hold yourself perfectly still. The only thing you could do was remain in this terrifying, vulnerable position.

Robin's mouth curled into a snarl, his anger flaring as he saw you trapped in the woman's grasp. Your small gasp of relief at the gun being removed from your face only fueled his rage. How dare these pathetic humans touch you, his sibling, his family, without any regard for your safety and wellbeing. The thought alone filled him with anger he had trouble controlling. He had failed you.

As Robin stood before the thugs, his katanas held at the ready, he locked his gaze with the woman holding you in her iron grip. His eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, a silent challenge in their depths.

Robin's gaze, burning with righteous anger, fixated on the woman who held you captive. The air around him crackled with a dangerous aura, his muscles coiled tensely as he held himself back from pouncing on the pitiful excuse for a human being in front of him.

The woman holding you in an iron grip was clearly an amateur, her sloppy and harsh moves betraying her lack of experience. She seemed to rely on brute strength, rather than skill, to overpower her victims.

Her careless and overly aggressive approach was a stark contrast to Robin's years of training and discipline. He took in every detail, every movement and expression, noting the flaws in her techniques. She was like a novice facing a seasoned warrior. It was downright pitiful.

To Robin, the woman's every move stank of amateurishness. Her clumsy and brute force tactics were as subtle as a bull in a china shop. It was clear that she had never received any formal combat training; relying solely on the ability to intimidate and overpower her victims. In comparison, Robin was a paragon of discipline, control, and skill. The difference in their approaches could not be more stark. She was insulting you for even thinking someone like her could ever be in your presence.

The woman's lack of finesse and skill made Robin's blood boil. She was like a pathetic child playing at being a thug, an insult to the name of criminals everywhere. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut with restrained anger. He could see her flaws from a mile away, her amateur tactics screaming for correction. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his mind racing with possible ways to take her down without harming you further.

Robin's intense gaze continued to pierce through the woman holding you. He was like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and taut, ready to pounce at the very next moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as he observed her sloppy moves. This is the type of amateur who would get themselves killed in Gotham in the blink of an eye. His anger flared further as he saw how carelessly she was handling you, her fingers digging into your flesh in a painfully tight grip.

For a brief moment, he considered just knocking the woman unconscious and freeing you from her grip. But then, with a cruel and calculated grin, a different thought occurred to him. He wanted to teach her a lesson. Maybe if she was truly frightened, she might actually learn something.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Robin tossed one of his throwing stars at the ground, the sharp and sudden movement drawing the woman's attention. Startled by the sound, she turned her head to look at the star, her grip on you loosening just a fraction.

Robin seized the opportunity, and in the blink of an eye, he moved behind her, his footsteps so silent that they made no sound.

The woman's eyes widened as she realized Robin's presence behind her, but before she could turn to face him, he had her by the throat, his hand encircling her airway in a firm grip.

As Robin observed your trembling form, your eyes still squeezed tightly closed, his heart clenched in his chest. He could see the fear and helplessness your body was radiating and it infuriated him. You looked like a terrified animal caught in a trap, desperately trying to hide from your captor. The thought of how scared you must be only served to fuel his obsession. You needed their protection.

Robin's grip on the woman's throat tightened as he drew her closer to him, his face inches from her ear. His voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge as he snarled, "You dare lay a hand on MY family and think you'll get away with it? You're a pathetic excuse for a thug."

The ringing in your ears and the shortness of your breath is all you can focus on, having not heard the boy’s words. Luckily for him.

Seeing that you were still too scared to open your eyes or listen, Robin tightened his grip even further on the woman, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer to her ear. "You thought you could get away with this? Pathetic."

As the woman began to struggle in his grip, her eyes widened as she realized the severity of the situation. Fear and panic filled her gaze, and her chest began to heave with labored breaths. Robin took a sadistic pleasure in seeing her fearful reaction. He smirked, his grip unwavering.

He was enjoying this. Teaching this low-life a lesson was like music to his ears. He wanted her to be terrified, to feel the same fear she had inflicted on you. You were his family. His.

As the woman gasped for air, her attempts to break free growing more frantic, Robin leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. The smirk on his face only grew wider. "Not so strong now, are you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

As the woman's grip on you suddenly loosened in panic, it caused you to lose your balance and fall unceremoniously onto your knees with a thump. The sudden movement startled you, freezing you in fright. Your limbs locked up in response to the sudden movement, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as you knelt on the dirtied ground.

Robin's heart stopped as he saw you fall to the ground with a thump. His eyes widened briefly, his grip on the woman loosening slightly in shock. He watched as you knelt on the ground, frozen in fear and vulnerability.

His protective instincts flared up, and he had to suppress the urge to immediately rush to your side. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused, keeping the woman pinned in his grip.

Robin's sharp gaze snapped from the woman to you as he heard the thud of you falling to your knees. Concern immediately replaced his previous satisfaction. He could see the terror freezing up your body, rendering you frozen and vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and worry. He needed to get you out of this situation, preferably without causing you further stress or harm. His grip on the woman tightened again, cutting off her panicked gasps as he held her at bay.

With a quick, sharp jerk, he slammed her against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.

He then turned his attention to you, quickly crossing the distance between you. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes flicking over your form, assessing for any signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of moments ago. He reached out a hand, gently touching your shoulder as he tried to coax you out of your frozen state.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise and wonder, as you took in the sight of the young vigilante towering above you. Your throat closed up for a brief moment, your mind struggling to fully believe that it was indeed Robin, the Robin, standing before you.

You managed to force out a meek whisper, the word barely audible. "Robin...?"

In your current frightened and bewildered state, there are a million questions and thoughts running through your mind. In a normally clear state of mind, you would have jumped at the chance to ask the Boy Wonder for an interview. In this moment, however, the only thing you manage to let out is a hesitant whisper, his name. Your mind trying to piece together the reality of the situation.

Robin knelt down in front of you, watching as realisation flooded your eyes. He could almost see the thoughts spinning through your mind like a whirlwind. For a brief moment, he was thankful for your stunned silence. It gave him a chance to assess the situation without being bombarded by a thousand questions.

He watched you take in his presence, your gaze wide and filled with wonder and disbelief. The word 'Robin' escapes your lips in a barely audible whisper.

He nods slowly, acknowledging your tentative recognition, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He could see the questions brimming behind your lips, but to his surprise, you remain silent. It seemed your fear had rendered you speechless, and for a moment, he found himself relieved. It gave him a few precious seconds to focus on the task at hand: getting you out of danger safely. He gave your shoulder a firm, gentle squeeze, his voice remaining hushed as to not startle you further.

"I'm here, you're safe." He tried to keep his tone calm.

Robin swiftly scooped you up, pulling you against his chest in an easy movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pause, relishing the feeling of having you so close to him. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest, an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness and possessiveness rushing through him. The thugs already forgotten, as he now focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he quickly leaped from one roof to the next, never slowing his pace, he spoke, his voice low and even. "Where do you live?" He’s already running in the direction.

He kept a firm but gentle grip on you, making sure that you were held safe and secure in his arms as he ran. The wind whipped around you, cool and exhilarating, as Robin navigated the Gotham rooftops with practiced ease. He repeated his question, his tone now slightly more demanding, as he continued traversing through the city.

You tried your best to gather yourself, blinking against the cool night air buffeting your face as Robin held you against his chest. Your voice was soft and slightly shaky as you spoke, the wind attempting to carry your words away.

"Just... just around the corner.."

Robin nodded, accepting the information without question. His strides didn't slow as he continued moving, the muscles in his legs propelling him forward with trained speed.

The city lights flashed by as Robin swiftly carried you through the maze-like labyrinth of Gotham's rooftops. His strides were long and purposeful, his movements fluid and precise. His arms held you firmly, one hand tucked under your legs and the other looped around your back.

Despite the circumstances and the speed at which you were moving, he took great care not to jostle you any more than necessary. It was clear that you were in pain and scared, and he wanted to minimize any further distress.

“... thank you.”

As you murmured your thanks, Robin's heart clenched in his chest. The pure gratitude in your voice was a stark contrast to the vulnerability and fear he could feel in your trembling form. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he was willing to do to protect you, but he remained quiet. He had to stick to their plan. Right now, he was solely focused on getting you home, where you would be safe from harm. His arms wrap tighter around you. He gives a simple nod in response.

You lifted your hand slightly, carefully pointing in the direction of your apartment balcony. The gesture was small, but it was enough for Robin to understand your meaning.

Without a word, he altered his course, angling his body to head towards the balcony you had indicated. Each leap and bound over the city skyline brought him closer to your apartment, the destination in sight.

Despite his casual demeanor, Robin was fully aware of the path they were taking. Years of patrol and countless hours of study had etched the city's layout into his memory, a map constantly present in the recesses of his mind.

He could flawlessly navigate the maze of Gotham's buildings, his muscles and movements guided solely by pure instinct. Every twist and turn was memorized, a testament to his extensive knowledge and dedication.

As they approached your apartment, he adjusted his hold on you, preparing to make the final leap onto the balcony.

With a final powerful bound, Robin lands on the balcony gently, steadying you against his chest. He carefully lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your body for a moment longer than necessary, as if ensuring you were truly safe and sound.

He takes a moment to glance around the vicinity, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. The Gotham night is relatively quiet, the sounds of the city reduced to a hushed hum in the background.

Once satisfied that the area is clear, he turns his attention back to you. He takes a step back, giving you a moment of space. His eyes watch you closely, searching for any signs of distress or injury.

He lifts a hand, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. Emerald eyes searching your form. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Despite his mask concealing his face, the concern in his voice is palpable. He takes a step closer to you, his hands moving to your shoulders as he steadies you against him. His gaze remains fixed on you.

You gently shook your head, a small, reassuring grin playing at your lips. Despite your earlier fear, you were clearly feeling somewhat better. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the simple fact that you were safe now.

Robin noticed the shift in your expression, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. He could feel the tension slowly draining out of your body.

Robin observed the small smile on your face, his eyes studying you closely. The brief moment of relief he felt at your reassurance was quickly replaced by a sense of caution. He could see the adrenaline still coursing through you, but he knew from experience that it was a temporary high. The fear would return sooner or later.

He nodded, accepting your answer but still feeling a small pang of unease. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he repeated, his hands still on your shoulders.

Your brows raise in slight disheveled amusement. This was the infamous arrogant vigilante? You call bull.

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thank you.”

Robin's eyes narrow slightly at the amusement in your tone. Despite your gratitude, he can sense your slightly disbelieving and slightly amused. For a moment, he wonders if you are treating him like a kid playing dress-up.

He straightens up, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He cocks his head to the side, his voice a mix of annoyance and determination.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

Despite the irritation in his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability. He's not used to being questioned, especially not by someone he feels responsible for. He wants to be taken seriously, to be seen as more than just a young boy playing at being a hero.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm serious. You could’ve been seriously hurt," he says, his voice stern. He's not used to expressing his emotions openly, but the thought of you in danger is making his typically controlled facade start to crumble.

You bite your tongue, holding back the sarcastic remarks and jokes that usually come so easily to you. You were well aware of how close you had come to serious danger, and the severity of the situation.

Robin can see the restrained smirk, the flicker of a joke on your lips, and it irks him more than the actual sarcasm. He's used to dealing with sarcastic criminals and sarcastic bats, but the thought of you making light of your own safety is frustrating. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

"This is no joke," he finally says, his voice firm. "What you did was stupid. Walking alone in Gotham at night."

Robin's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and frustration and worry and protectiveness. But beneath it all, he was most angry and frustrated with himself. He should have been there sooner, he should have been able to stop those thugs before they even got close to you. This event was only proving to him what he already knew - you were not safe in the city, not without someone to protect you. They needed to speed up with their plan before he goes insane.

He withdrew his hand from your cheek, the loss of his touch leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. He fidgeted with his utility belt, a nervous habit.

"I have to go." He murmured, his voice low and laced with a hint of reluctance. His eyes scanned over you one more time, mentally committing your features to memory. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every curve and contour of your face.

"Be sure not to walk alone at night. Or ever." The last words came out as more of a command than a warning, a hint of desperation laced in his tone.

Before you could even think of a response or express your gratitude, Robin had already vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone on your balcony.

Despite the circumstances, a soft, almost wistful grin crept across your lips as you replayed the events of the night in your mind. Despite the danger and the near brush with violence, you couldn't shake the thrill of meeting the young vigilante, the Batman’s associate himself.

Even though you didn't get to ask all the questions you wanted, the encounter was still something exciting.

You silently crept into your room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jason who was probably asleep in his room down the hall. You shrugged off your bag and jacket, discarding them to the side before crawling into the safety and warmth of your bed. You bring your hand out to tap softly against the glass of your turtles enclosure as a silent good night, cuddling further under the blankets.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the sheets surrounding you, you let out a soft sigh, already feeling the exhaustion starting to pull at your eyelids. Unaware of the chaos that was brewing at Wayne Manor, nor the many sets of watchful eyes observing you through the carefully placed cameras that dotted the room.

The cameras strategically placed throughout your room recorded every subtle movement as you got yourself settled into bed. Every blink and every shift was captured in sharp, high-definition video, the images streaming directly to the computer screens at Wayne Manor.

In the depths of the batcave, the video feeds played on several large screens, each one displaying a different angle of your room.

Multiple figures looking over the room full of monitors, displaying your every breath, every toss and turn as you drifted off to sleep. Watching each and every twitch, each flutter of your eyelashes.

The silence in the batcave was heavy, only disrupted by the soft hum of the computer equipment and the occasional murmur between the group of figures huddled in front of the bank of monitors.

Each screen showed a different angle of your room, the camera feeds streaming smoothly, giving an intimate view of your every movement. Every breath, every twitch, was recorded, observed and analyzed by the watchful eyes monitoring you. Every inch of your room was on display, the cameras capturing even the tiniest detail.

Even in your sleep, you were still being watched.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for reader, no mention of gender.

Does anyone have any ideas for the name of your pet turtle?

505 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 6 months ago

Note

oh my god absolutely feral for the cynical prompt list PLEASE!!! maybe like bad at feelings/grumpy!r x steve with these vibes?:

• "you.. LIKE ME???" "i'm a little wary but so far, yes."

• "you're my favorite person. i didn't know you could have those."

• i love the idea that although they're cynical they would simultaneously not care to admit it ^ like "okay, yeah, i fell in love. so what???? people fall in puddles, and pools, and you know, other things!!! don't hold this against me!"

or literally anything from that list like i just know you’d eat

hope you like it angel xoxo — you tell steve you love him for the first time in front of all your friends who didn't even know you were dating (grumpy!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Eddie drops off a few Hellfire stragglers at Family Video after a lengthy campaign, you among them. Robin watches you file in with a freckled chin nestled in her palm. “Stevie! Your children are here!” she singsongs in the otherwise empty store, flipping unenthusiastically through an old magazine.

Dustin and Lucas grumble under their breaths about being called children, though you think they’re still very much deserving of the term. Eddie, meanwhile, crosses his leather-clad arms over his chest. “You know I’m older than him, right?” he monotones with squinted eyes. “So that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”

You deadpan from beside him, somehow more stoic than the raucously dressed metalhead. “And also, I’m dating him,” you frown. “So that’d be, like, extra weird.”

Everyone looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, then. Like you’ve just said something awful.

Steve’s presence saves you, but only for a moment. He comes out from the back wearing a stupid grin on his scruffy face. “Hey, babe,” he greets you first, with a wide hand spread warmly over your back.

When he ducks down for a fleeting kiss, you can taste the Cheetos he’d been snacking on and the wintergreen gum he’d just plucked into his mouth. The concoction is strange. Maddening, still.

All of your friends leer at you for several long moments. They gape at the two of you in horror, as though there was some kind of truth in what Robin had just announced moments ago — as though you and Steve shouldn’t be kissing at all.

“Wait,” Lucas mumbles, filling the heavy silence. His face twists in confusion a second later. “What?”

Eddie’s pale face contorts in something short offense, like you’ve betrayed him somehow. You sort of did, in a way. You’re Hellfire’s prettiest, grumpiest, weirdest member — you’re not supposed to be dating Steve The Hair Harrington. It goes against, like, every unwritten rule in the handbook.

“Is this why you wanted me to drop you off here?” he questions, palpably heartbroken. “So you two could— suck face?”

You shrug, emotionless. “Sorta.”

“We have a date tonight,” Steve announces with a proud smile. He squeezes gently at your shoulder, then cowers at the glare you give him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Not date.”

You’ve noticed his very strange tendency to call any time you spend together a date. You don’t like that. It makes you feel it’s some kind of appointment you have to book with him — an engagement you have to put too much effort into. Sometimes, you don’t want to go on a date. You just want to sleep over at his place, steal one of his shirts, and raid his kitchen in your underwear.

Eddie does everything but pout. “But I thought… I thought we came here to bother Steve until he let us take something home for free?” he confesses in a quiet voice.

“We can still do that if you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he frowns.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin shouts, abandoning her magazine and waving her hands in front of her face. “How did I not know about this?”

Steve bounces his shoulder, jostling the nametag pinned to his chest. “You don’t know everything about me, Buckley,” he sasses.

“So… you like him?” she presses, pointing to you and then the boy beside you. “You like Steve? Steve Harrington?”

You swallow hard and hope you don’t look as anxious as you feel. You shrug to feign an air of nonchalance. “I’m still a little wary about it, but, yeah… So far, anyway.”

Dustin’s senses return to him, then. He shakes his curly head in disbelief. “That is just… confounding,” he mumbles to himself.

“And how long has this been going on, exactly?” Robin squints.

“Couple months, I guess,” you monotone.

Steve has a much different, much more enthusiastic answer.

“Well, if we’re going by the first time I knew she liked me, it’s been five months. But if we’re going by the first time we kissed, it’s been four,” he rambles with his honey eyes flitted to the ceiling. “But if we’re going by the first time she actually admitted she liked me, it’s been… A wonderful six days.”

He flashes you a grin, which you meet with a hardened scowl. “Shut up…” you grumble, but don’t push him away when he cuddles you closer to his side.

“You? And Steve Harrington?” Eddie gapes. “You’re kissing?”

Steve scoffs. “Well, we’re dating Munson. So obviously we’re kissing. Among other things…”

You dig an elbow into his ribs to shove him away. “Do you have a death wish?” you spit, eyes narrowed and bitter, while the boy just chuckles to himself.

“It’s just… weird,” Dustin remarks.

“But, like, a good weird,” Lucas nods. “Like a solar eclipse, sort of weird.”

“Or, like, that one in a billion chance of atoms aligning and your hand going directly through a solid object, sort of weird,” the curly-haired boy adds, punctuating his sentence by slapping the front counter. His palm collides with the hard surface with a resounding thud.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” Steve monotones when Dustin winces.

“Well, impossible things happen all the time, Steve. Including now.”

You start to choke on the attention. The stares are borderline suffocating. A bunch of wide-eyed gazes holding yours until you feel like you can hardly breathe.

“What’s the big deal?” you blurt before you mean to. “We fell in love. Who cares? Dustin fell into a puddle earlier today— how’s that any different? People fall all the time.”

Dustin’s eyes narrow. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up.”

“Wait…” Steve mumbles, pink lips quirked in a crooked smile. His chocolate gaze glimmers with hope and confusion, eyes darting back and forth between yours. “You’re… You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah?” you shrug, trying not to cower at the way he looks at you. “So what?”

His grin widens. It takes everything in him not to kiss the life out of you then. He settles for a warm squeeze at your shoulder for now. “Nothing. Nothing, I just— I love you back. That’s all.”

The honeyed moment is ended bitterly by the sound of Eddie’s fake gagging. Robin gripes beneath the horrid noise, “You guys are gross…”

Lucas smiles. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Only ‘cause you’re more lovesick than these two idiots,” Eddie scoffs. He saunters away from you and takes the two Hellfire boys by the shoulder, leading them inevitably to the Sci-Fi section. Robin has no choice but to fix her frowning face and smile when a customer walks in.

With the crowd freshly dispersed, and the attention no longer on the two of you, you look up at Steve with a softer look than you’re used to. “Why did you look so shocked?” you murmur, eyes all squishy around the edges. “When I told you that I— that I loved you or whatever.”

“I wasn’t shocked,” Steve laughs and turns to face you fully. “I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

You squint. “So you were shocked?”

“…I guess so. Yeah.”

“Well— you’re like— my favorite person or whatever,” you stumble over your words, finding it suddenly very difficult to meet his gaze. You gesture wildly with anxious hands. “And I didn’t even know you could have one of those, so… By that logic, I figured I must be in love with you.”

Steve grins, maybe bigger than he realizes. It’s all plush and pink and petaled, dripping with an adoration you’re not sure you deserve. “Well, by that logic, I must be in love with you, too, then, huh?”

“Guess so…” you grumble under your breath.

Steve smiles at the distant look of disgust scrunching your pretty face. “You’re so cute…” he mumbles under his breath, pressing a kiss to your pout before you can blink.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble

651 notes · View notes

darkenedurge · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞. (𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭).

CONTENT : Blood Kink | P in V Sex (Fem Durge) | Violence, Violent Language | Durge being a freak, Gortash eating it right up | Pre-Tadpole Durge & Gortash

˚ ✧.

“If I didn’t love you so, I’d drown in your blood. It’d be pretty, I bet. I can see it.” She says, as she lays – naked, head upon his chest, pointed nail tracing his chest hair. Disturbing it, coercing it into haphazard patterns. She has a habit of this, accompanying tender, gentle movements with deranged words spoken in her pretty, pretty voice. It had never frightened Gortash. Surprised him perhaps, when she had first enlightened him toward the notion – she was rolling her hips into his, palms cupping his jaw with an uncharacteristic softness, completely unbefitting to her, and the tandem of her hips.

“I wish I could slit your throat, and drive my tongue across the slash. Taste you, in ways I haven’t before.”

A minx, he’d called her, with a shake of his head – a tut, and a huffed chuckle.

“I am no General Thorm, dearest,” Gortash replies, finally, his hand trailing down to her thigh – repositioning her. She whines. “Cut me too deep, and I will not be resurrected.”

Silence, for a moment.

And then, a compromise.

“Let me cut your tongue, slice it.. I want to sup the blood as it spills, as we kiss.”

There was always a breathiness to her voice, a shuddering undertone of unadulterated, unhinged, excitement. Carnal desire, urge. There’s a tremor, in the very tips of her fingers, as she grips the blade – like a vice, furthered well beyond its limits. Gortash pretends to consider, pretends to have his debate – internal, between yes, and no. He pretends, and pretends, before simply sticking out his tongue.

She grins, giggles, raises her blade. Her blade was always close, always near. Within arms length.

She then shifts, onto her knees – resting on her heels, eyes flickering with want. Need.

“Only a little cut,” She specifies, and she’s honest, “I don’t want to ruin you..”

A half-tease. Gortash raises a brow.

True to her word, she makes the slit – immediate in tangling her tongue with his, succumbing to the sickly, sweet taste of iron. Copper, intermingling with the heady aftertaste of wine on his tongue. On hers. They always drank, always fucked. Always talked, always kissed. Bled, burned.

The downfall of one another, the detonation to one another’s ticking time bomb.

“Incredible,” She gasps, breaking them from their saliva stricken embrace – a string of desaturated red still maintaining a shred of connection between them. “You’re incredible.”

Gortash shakes his head, pinning her beneath him in one push – a press of his hand, fingers curling around her crisscrossed wrists, burying her bones in the mattress beneath them. “You are the incredible one, my dearest, dearest pet.”

“I hate it when you call me that.” She lies, spreading her legs – sinfully wet.

He pries her apart, sheathes himself inside of her – the fluttering of her walls greeting his cock, accompanied by her hellish, flaming heat. Her constrictive tightness, mouth falling open with a wiggle and a squirm. “No you don’t,” Gortash replies, with a grunt of effort, as he fucks into her hard. Harsh. Abusive and abrasive.

She moans, upon each thrust, thighs tensing and untensing, only to tense again.

“Bleed me again,” Gortash pants out, gaze dark – voice, low. Despite its strain.

His grip upon her hip, with his free hand, is blissfully bruising. “Kiss me,” She demands, commands, pleads – all at once. “Kiss me, and I will.”

And so kiss her he does. She bites his lip, drawing blood –letting it dribble, down, down his stubbled chin. She drags her tongue, efficiently cleaning up the mess. Her mess.

Gortash finishes, inside of her, not long after. She’d squeezed his throat, their first time together, thumb pressed hard – “You fill me up. Everytime. Don’t waste your seed, lordling. Don’t go claiming anyone else. No, you’ve claimed me now.”

He’d lost count, this was perhaps their third time of the night. Fourth, fifth, even.

Though, she finally seems tired – small, curled in his arms, nestled against him. He knows she doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t like to, doesn’t want to. She’ll be up again, in the midst of the night – naked, hands buried in some poor unfortunate’s innards. He’ll cling to the smell of her skin, imprinted on the linen sheets.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #bg3 #bg3 durge #dark urge x gortash #durgetash #gortash x durge #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #dark urge #bg3 smut #smut #gortash x reader #bg3 x reader #x reader

1K notes · View notes

quirrrky · 1 year ago

Text

. : ･ﾟ✦ ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIS

KUROO, BOKUTO, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI; when you thought your love for them was unrequited, but is it really?

≡ NOTES ⋮ Oikawa's hits different on this one 🥺

KUROO

"Looks good," Kuroo commented over your shoulder—his cheek just a mere few inches from yours. "Nice work as usual, Y/N."

You refused to look at him directly. At least, not this close. Everything about Kuroo was just admirable. He excelled at work, got along with everyone and bore looks that always fit his business attire. Aside from that, you never knew anyone who understood you in the way he did. But you're just colleagues. You knew it was only that for him.

"Are you free tonight?" He pulled back and asked. Finally, you could gaze back at him.

"I have nothing else to do and it's weekend tomorrow. I can spare some time. Is there something I need to revise?"

He placed his hands on his hips. "This is why you're single, Y/N," he sighed. "Go on a date! I know someone. I think you'll like him alot. I could set you two up later."

You forced a smile. Kuroo had been consistent in setting you up with some other guys. It hurt everytime, because you're not interested in them, you wanted him instead. You liked Kuroo a little more than you should and it's hopeless. You were hopeless.

"Fine," you surrendered. Just to put an end to this. You couldn't be hurting everytime he'd ask you to meet someone else for a date.

Evening came and you walked to the meeting place, still trying to accept the reality that Kuroo never liked you in the same way. After all, he asked you to date some other guy and it was totally cool for him to let you be with someone else.

"Y/N!" Kuroo called as he approached you.

"Oh, Kuroo..." You greeted a little melancholic then you looked behind him and around you, "Your friend? Is he....already here?"

"Friend?" He narrowed his eyes. "What friend?"

You tilted your head in puzzlement. "You told me that you'd set me up on a date with someone."

"Yes, I did. But Y/N..." He said, leaning forward and casting a mischievous smirk. "... that someone is me."

You were baffled still couldn't believe that he liked you back.

Kuroo could see the disbelief and joy in your eyes. God, he'd been wanting for things to come to this for so long. Finally, your eyes locked and he inched closer. His lips captured yours in an all-consuming kiss that got you gasping when he pulled your body against his. You felt weak in the knees that you didn't want it to end.

Slowly, he pulled away still pinning your gaze while you were left wanting for more.

"I told you," he whispered to you, closely. "You'll like him alot." He playfully grinned.

And though you wanted to give him a lighthearted slap you couldn't deny that yes, you like him a lot.

BOKUTO

Confident that his team would win, you immediately ran towards Bokuto. A grin widely spread on your face as you went towards the hallway on your way to meet him before he head over to the lockers. Turning to the corner, however you saw him kissing a girl. She was tiptoed with eyes closed as she had his face cradled in her hands.

It crushed you.

Tears instantly pooled at the corners of your eyes and your instinct pushed you to turn back and run away. You were so much in a haste that you bumped into Akaashi without even noticing.

All this time you held affection for your best friend. You never knew that a day would come when you’d feel so much more for him. You tried to fight back the feeling but it turned out unsuccessful like always. Maybe a sliver hope remained in you because you never saw him with someones else until now.

Maybe this was the sign to let go.

You sat at the bench of a bus stop and hugged your bag firmly as tears began to trickle down your cheeks involuntarily. It’s so stupid! Why’re you crying?

“Y/N!” You heard Bokuto’s voice called out to you. His tone, laced with urgency and worry. He sat beside you you and draped an arm across your shoulders. “What’s it? What’s wrong? Akaashi told me you don’t look alright. Hey, Y/N…Are you…are you crying?” You could definitely hear his sad face from his voice.

You just shook your head refusing to look his face. You knew. You knew you couldn’t afford to face him like this.

“Hey, Y/N…answer me.” He begged as he leaned his head against yours like a puppy. “Why’re you crying? What’s wrong? Did I do somethin’? Please tell me. Are you mad at me?”

Still, you’re resisting until he cupped your face and made you look at him. “Hey, hey... you know I love you, right?”

Hearing those words yet you knew it meant different for you teared up caved in and said, “We can’t be friends anymore.”

“But why?” He asked with a pout.

You gripped your bag, mustering all the courage you could. “Because…Because I can’t take seeing you with some other girl.”

“What do you mean?” Bokuto paused for a brief moment, tilting his head while trying to figure things out.

“I saw you….kissing-“

”Oh that! I don’t even know her name. She just suddenly went in for it.” He explained and rubbed the back of his head. “Geez…Y/N if I’d kiss someone, it would rather be you.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “H-Huh?”

”Well, yeah…I’ve always been wantin' to kiss you.” Bokuto leaned his face close to yours. “Do you…”

“Do I...?”

“Do you wanna kiss me too?” He asked and you blushed. One moment you were crying and now your heart was pounding loud.

“I…” You trailed off as got lost in his pleading gaze. Your eyes lulled close and soon you felt his lips soft against yours. It was sweet, slow and magical that when he pulled away you breathlessly muttered, “I love you.”

Bokuto beamed with eyes like he was about to cry out of joy, “I can’t believe it. You finally say it back.”

OIKAWA

It was dumb for a wallflower like you to even believe that Oikawa Tooru, everyone’s dream in your campus, would fall in love with you. It started when he would casually talk to you along the hallway.

Eventually, you became classmates and he would sneak from his volleyball practices just to bother you as you studied alone in an empty room after class. Then, he would join you during lunch from time to time and would give you a packet of his favorite milk bun sometimes.

You felt special. He’s the only person who made you feel seen. He made you feel like you existed. While others chose to pass you by, he would stop in his tracks to greet you. You could still recall the melodious way he’d call your name. Y/N-chan! You anticipated his casual visits to you everytime. It was like the best part of your day.

There’s always a little smile reserved just for him. That kind of smile he said he loved seeing. You loved Oikawa Tooru, but to think a mere peasant like you would be noticed by a prince, it was all a mistake.

There were rumors about him pursuing some other girl. You thought it was just a rumor until they ended up together. You’re such a fool for believing in fairytales. Gradually, you drew a distance between you. You’re no longer receptive of charms or, at least, you showed you weren’t. Next thing you knew he flew to Buenos Aires and he was all a fairytale.

Years passed and you didn’t know how you end up visiting your campus again. Memories of him flashed back and a bitter smile appeared on your face. You still thanked him for everything, because even just for a year, you felt important. He showed you how valuable you were and how much you needed validation, consequently realizing that the appreciation that would make you whole was not from him, but from yourself.

You would never forget him, though, for showing you what a fairytale looked like even just for a moment in time.

“Y/N-chan!” A familiar voice called out and you found him...Oikawa....He’d grown a lot now. Wrinkles on the side of his eyes and shoulders broader than the last time you recalled. “Have you...forgotten about me?” He asked, sounding sad.

“How can I?” You replied.

“Yeah, I guess. I was pretty memorable back then, huh?” He rubbed the back of his head. “I...I haven’t forgotten you though.”

You gulped. Why do you still feel happy? “Really?” You asked. “You have a lot swarming around you. I’m pretty sure I’m forgettable.”

How could he forget you? How could he forget the one who looked past his recognition and physical appearance? You listened to him tirelessly about volleyball without complaining. You were invested in him when he showed his vulnerabilities. You didn’t run away in times you couldn’t understand him anymore.

You were perfect. In fact, too perfect for him. He knew back then that all he had in his immature brain was to reach for his dreams. He didn’t want to hurt you like how he did others because he’s not free to invest time. Next thing he knew you slowly slipped away from him and you were just his fairytale.

“How could I forget you?” He smiled, bitterly. “My Y/N-chan with the beautiful smile.”

You both chuckled. The ache of the past memories was being purged out. Somehow, it’s such a relief.

He extended his hand and you meekly took it.

“Tooru, please call me Tooru now.” And maybe this time things would work out the way it should’ve been.

IWAIZUMI

You basically grew up together. He was your brother’s best friend and he’d always hang out with him and had sleepovers in your home. They would usually join you as they played. Sometimes, they played as your princes, winning over who could save you from the daunting aliens.

But Hajime was always your prince.

Even when you were little, you dreamt of marrying him. It was all just a childish dream back then, but as you grew older, it was nothing sort of childish anymore. You could never imagine anyone else to be with for life other than him.

However, when your Tooru-nii began living in Argentina, Hajime went back to replace his role over you. To be your brother.

“I don’t like that guy for you, Y/N.” He said, after informing him of the blind date you'd be attending after work.

“Why do you care so much?” Why was he acting this way? Why do you always take care of me? He didn’t have to do that. Stop making me fall in love with you! 

“Because your brother is away and no one here’s gonna look after you!”

“You’re not my brother! So stop acting like one!” You answered back, not looking back as you walked out the door. 

The night fell and your date was still not showing up. Maybe the guy saw you but was not interested. Maybe Hajime was right. You hated it when he’s right, because you knew he was. You knew that there couldn’t be anyone more right for you than him, but it was all so wrong because you’re just a little sister for him.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and immediately looked. Your hope subsided.

“You dropped your handkerchief,” the stranger said.

You knelt and picked the item up. As you stood back up again, you were surprised to see Hajime in front of you.

You felt relief and an undeniable sting inside. You could never get over him. You knew that for sure.

“Let’s go home,” he said, and you earnestly refused no longer capable to bear any hope for him.

“I’ll pass for now. I’ll walk home”

“Y/N, it’s late now-”

“I know. I know,” you dismissively and mockingly said. “It’s not safe and my brother isn’t around so no one’s here to protect me, but you because I’m like a little sister to you right? A little si-”

Your eyes widened as he stopped you from babbling with his lips on yours. Both od his hands cupped your cheeks as he kissed you passionately like it’s something he’d been wanting to do for so long. He parted with the both of you catching your breaths.

“You’re right I’m not your brother, and I never wanted to be.”

#kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #oikawa scenarios #oikawa drabble #bokuto fluff #bokuto scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu x reader

1K notes · View notes

queen-of-fanfics · 7 months ago

Text

I Told You To Stay pt.2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt: After chasing you down, Peter catches you in the forest and things get ... spicy

A/N: Hi!! So, I know it's been a year since the first part, but I felt inspired, and I love that you guys enjoyed it! THERE IS A SPICY SCENE AT THE END OF THIS PART! I indicated it in case anyone doesn't want to read some nasty; you can skip it. :) I don't ever do NSFW scenes, but I felt like this needed it.

I am expecting to write a part 3, but I was requested to make something angsty, so the next part will wrap up this little series, but not in a happily ever after. So if you want something sweet and happy, you can stop this little series with this part, but if you want something angsty, you can keep going to part 3 (whenever that comes out) and feel some sad girl summer. But enjoy this and let me know what you think! If y'all hate it, I'm deleting it... jk jk .....

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

What a compromising situation you found yourself in. Arms pinned above your head, held against a tree staring up into some very angry, yet worrying, eyes, you can’t help but want to laugh at your position. Figures, this is what you get for slipping out the window and running into the woods like hell hounds were nipping at your heels. But in all fairness, your actions were warranted.

How else were you supposed to react when Peter brought you back to his secret cabin after spending a romantic night together and then suddenly, Wendy is at said so-called “secret cabin” calling him ‘baby’ and trying to rub up on him? Regardless of Peter’s denials, it’s hard to believe that truth when she was standing right in front of you.

“I thought I told you to stay,” Peter says in a threateningly calm voice.

“Let me go, Peter.” You tried to keep your voice calm, trying to seem nonchalant. You kept your face passive, but there was a war of emotions inside of you.

You felt hurt. Angry. Embarrassed. Betrayed. And as much as you were trying to suppress it, you felt …. yearning. Even through all this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. It skipped and leaped in happiness that he was here. That he came racing after you. That he came looking for you when Wendy was probably waiting for him back at the cabin. The thought of her cause a bite of anger to shoot through you.

“Go back to Wendy, Peter.” You clipped.

“I told you to stay.” His voice was deadly. Deadly to your nerves and deadly to your heart.

Squeezing your eyes shut and blowing out a breath of frustration, trying desperately to get a hold of your temper that you could feel rising. “Go back to your cabin, Peter. Let me go.”

“I told you to stay. All you had to do was stay.” He snarled right back as if you hadn’t said a word and he had the audacity to sound upset with you!

Your eyes shot open and in a burst of adrenaline, you yanked your hands free and shoved against his chest, blurting “Let me go! You lied! I trusted you! I trusted you when everyone else laughed at me and you lied to me!” Shock flashed in his face quickly before he was able to hide it. You have never lost your temper or shown an ounce of venom since you’ve arrived to Neverland.

You pushed at his chest and tried to shove up off the tree to make your escape, but he wasn’t budging. Instead of stepping back to give you the space you desperately wanted, he stepped into you. Your hands pressed against his chest and your back pressed into the tree. Your bodies were flesh against each other now.

“I have never lied to you, Y/N.”

Scoffing in disbelief, your rising temper spoke for you, “You said that you and Wendy weren’t together.”

“Again. I have never lied to you.” He growled.

“Oh really?” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It didn’t look that way to me. My mistake. It definitely didn’t look like she was cozy in your place and on your body. Peter, I don’t know what game you’re playing but I don’t want any part of it. It looks like Wendy is already in the picture so I don’t want any part of this!”

“Y/N, would you please just listen to me. I’ll explain everything.”

“I’ve been asking you to explain! I’ve been asking for months and you’ve avoided giving me even an ounce of clarity and now is when you want to explain?! Now that I’ve seen things clearly with my own eyes? I’m supposed to have faith in my feelings towards you but I have to ignore the proof right in front of me? The pair of you are playing mother and father all over this island and I’m supposed to ignore that?!”

“It is not like that.” He snapped, his own frustration growing.

He went to grab your hands again but you batted them away. Pushing and shoving at his chest, you were desperate to get away. Feeling frantic, the anger you’ve been trying to smother was starting to bubble and rise to the surface. But now your feelings were out of control. Laying too close to the surface was your frustration, hurt, confusions and yearning. Somehow in all of this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. Feeling pinned and trapped, the frustration was bringing tears to your eyes.

“Just listen, Y/N-”

“Get off me!”

Fed up with your pats and pushes, Peter finally shoved your hands aside and firmly cupped your face. Bringing his forehead down to rest against yours, his fingers cradling the back of your head creating a warm cocoon of just you and him.

“My dear sweet, Y/N. Listen to me. I know asking you to put your trust in me is not a fair ask but I’m going to do it anyway. I have my reasons for keeping Wendy on this island, but I promise you, it’s not romantic. I have … suspicions about her that I need to resolve before I can decide what to do with her. But please just trust in me.” The sweetness of his soft voice and his request soaked into your heart the way watercolor soaks into fine paper. His softness and intimacy drained the fight from you, leaving you with only hurt.

Not wanting to fall for his tricks and continue this loop, you whisper, “Please don’t do this, Peter. These mind games, I-I-I can’t! I’m too tired and too weak to survive you. Please-”

But before you could tell him off, he interrupts, “I know it’ll sound like an easy excuse or some made up lie but I’m telling the truth. I’m going to need your trust because it’ll sound like I’m paranoid, but I promise, this isn’t some easy way out excuse…. just something isn’t right with her. And things haven’t been right since she’s gotten here. I can feel a change in Neverland, but I can’t figure out what she’s done. I’ve caught her rifling through my things and trying to follow me. I’ve been letting her and acting as though I haven’t noticed, but only so that I can figure out what she is trying to do. But that’s how she found my cabin before. I didn’t take her there and I didn’t tell her about it, but she knows about it because she followed me one night. I’m telling you the truth. Just let me figure out what is going on and I’ll get rid of her.” His voice was earnest, like he was being honest but there was a whisper of doubt in the back of your mind.

Maybe he was being truthful? But I haven’t noticed any changes in the island. But I guess I arrived around the same time Wendy did and didn’t know what it was like before. But he could also be lying just to keep me placated.

Sensing your doubts, Peter tilts your head up and plants his lips on yours. One of his hands slide to the back of your nape to hold you steady for his onslaught of your mouth. His mouth was soft and warm. Sweet and demanding. Fervent but nervous. A man yet still a boy.

Tears finally slip down your face as you went the unwanted relief that washed over you. How could you want this man so much, a man you weren’t even sure if you could trust, but needed desperately. A man that made you weak with want but afraid of the fall. Against your lips, he whispers, “Please, Y/N, please,” but his kisses never stop and your heart tugs with every quiver you could feel from his lips. What was he asking for? What else could he want from you? But whatever it was … you knew you would give it to him.

“Trust in me. I’m begging you, just trust in me. Let me show you. Come back to the cabin, I sent her away, you’ll see, she’s not there anymore.”

“It’s not just the cabin, Peter. It’s everything. She’s everywhere. I see you guys-”

“But have you ever seen me affectionate with her? Never. It’s never been like that. She might be donned the title of Lost Mother or whatever, but that doesn’t have any association to me. It’s all for the boys.”

“Peter-” He cut in before you could argue.

“Please. Just trust in me. Just enough so that I can prove it to you. Then decide for yourself, but for right now, just trust in me enough. Come back with me tonight. Don’t leave me.” And that was it. That was when your resolve broke and there was nothing you could do but pay heed to his request. With your heart in your throat, throwing caution to the wind, you return his kiss tenfold; letting your actions answer for you.

~~~ it’s nasty time, ladies and gentlemen ~~~~

Your hands cup his jaw and you push up on your toes, slanting your head to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth in invitation and he accepts instantly. His tongues rushes in to meet and dance with yours; a happy reunion. His groan of relief vibrates through your body and your core tightens in excitement. Squeezing your thighs together to find any sort of relief and you run your hands down his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

Suddenly, Peter reaches down and hooks his arms behind your thighs before hoisting you up, your back against the tree and your legs wrapped around his hip, only his body keeping you suspended. The dress that you were wearing rides up high on your thigh and the cold air swirls against your burning skin cause goose bumps were pebble in their wake. Peter uses his hips to keep you pin against the tree but that meant that your could feel his hard member resting against your sex.

Peter shoves his face into the crook of your neck and suckles and nibbles all along any exposed skin. His hands were gripping and kneading your ass as he was supporting your weight. Almost like he couldn’t help himself, Peter rocks his hips into yours pulling a gasp from you and a groan from him at the sudden delicious friction. “What have you done to me, Y/N? I can feel your grip on your mind and I can do nothing to stop you. You’ve bewitched me. All I could ever need is you, like this.” His whispered breath skates across your skin, burning your ears and curling your toes.

Giving him easier access to your skin, your eyes close and your head rolls to the side. Unbeknwnsts to you, this movement causes the strap of your dress to slip off your shoulders, the top of your dress falling slightly, giving Peter a perfect view of the tops of your breast. You felt one of his hands tease up your legs and in between your flushed bodies. He pulls your panties to the side and your feel his fingers delve into your folds. You let out a small whimper as he hits his mark, using your wetness, he swirls his expert fingers around your clit with ease. “Peter, please.” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, causing his to chuckle and you yelp in surprise as he plants a firm bite on your neck, causing threads of pleasure down your spine. Your breast felt heavy and achy with need, every pant from you causing your nipples to rub against his chest. Your hips are now rolling on their own accord, moving in time with his torturing fingers.

“You keep begging sweetly like that and I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you right here. I’m barely holding onto my reserve right now, Y/N. I want nothing more than to throw you down and have my fill of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me to stop right now.”

Sighing dreamily, you tease, “Weren’t you the one who started this, hmm?” His movements slowed to a stop, and he simply held you for a long moment. Your heart felt like it was floating and soaring through the cloud, butterflies in your stomach as his breath fanned against your breast. “Yeah well … I’ve never been the reasonable one, have I?” You felt his smirk against your neck before it disappeared in his seriousness, “If you want me to stop, Y/N, you have to let me know now.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?” Your whisper was barely heard as it floated through the silent night.

He was silent for a moment before he responded, “I would. It would kill me but I would. I would do anything you asked of me, Y/N. I would steal the moon for you if you asked it of me. Please … just stay with me.”

Wrapping your arms around his head and shoulders, you envelop the precious bundle that was clingy to you like you were his life source. How could you deny him? Tilting your head towards him so that you lips ghosted over his ear, you whisper, “I need you, Peter. Are you going to make me beg?”

You let out a started gasp as he shot to life. Your hands falling away from him and bracing behind you against the tree as one of his hands shot down to undo his pants while the other ripped the top of your dress down the middle, leaving the two sides falling open and revealing your body to him. Your dress hung loosely, like a belt wrapped around your waist now, your breasts exposed to the cool air causing your nipples to pebble. Suddenly his naked cock was dragging between your wet lips as he rocked against you, coating it with your arousal. Peter pushed to have his body flush against yours again and his face back in your neck, one hand went back to your ass while the other grabbed and squeezed at your breast.

“Y/N. I need you. Hard and fast. I can’t think straight and having you like this is pushing me towards the brink of insanity. I can’t control myself right now.”

“Don’t hold back, Peter. I need you, just as you are.”

A pleasured cry and a “oh my god” was ripped from you when Peter lifted you and slid you the whole way down, taking his whole cock inside you until you were sitting flush against his thigh. “Oh, fuck, Y/N. My dreams are nothing compared to this.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he used you to milk his cock; using you to ride him. His arm flexing to lift you and his hips slamming up to meet you. His pace was brutal. His strength had you slamming down with a force that made your muscles squeeze and pulse with every thrust. Your cries were loud and obscene but his growls and grunt were feral; only causing you to react more frantically. Your hips your rolling to meet his thrusts and the strong kneading on your achy breasts and bites along your neck was almost too much to bare. In and out. In and out. Every slide and every slam sending pleasure to the tops of your head to the tips of your toes.

Then suddenly, his hand was there again, right on your clit with enough pressure that cause nearly painful pleasure. He continued to buck into you like a wild animal, your muscles clenched like a vice in satisfaction. He swirled and flicked with such precision as though he knew exactly what you felt and knew what you needed. Your head was swimming with arosual, your toes curling and your back arching against the rough texture on your back, cause little delicious scratches to scrape there. “Peter, I’m right there. Cum with me. I need you.”

He slammed his lips into yours, drinking in all your cries, and his efforts doubled, then all at once, he stilled and groaned into your mouth, and he shook and emptied into you. Sweaty and panting, you both held each other, desperate to catch your breaths. After a few calm and blissful minutes, Peter softly kisses your jaw and whispers, “Come back with me, Y/N. Stay with me.”

With your eyes closed, your head rolled back, and your smile pointing up towards the dark sky, you whisper, “Ok, Peter. Take me home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

tags: @fandom-fae @mmikeypopcornperil @layla2-49 @sjisfindingneverland @rainbow-alilou @hirohard0 @kaypan9909 @riordanness @vampbloodbunny2 @mk-the-great @fightformidnightx @lanelovesdilfs @queeniemariel @ariaroseloklover @quackitysdrugdealer @wildcatglove13 @james-800 @impossiblesaladwerewolf @bellarose-24

#fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing #ouat #peter pan fanfic #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagines #peter pan #ouat imagine #ouat fanfiction #ouat fanfic #peter pan imagine #peter pan fanfiction #peter x reader #ouat peter pan #ouat x reader #peter pan ouat

525 notes · View notes

borathae · 24 days ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 28 - Sounding]

Pairing: Good Boy!Yoongi x Mommy Hard Dom!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Idol!Yoongi

Kinks: very intense and deep subspace, he is a subby and devoted masochist, hints of enjoying rather rough free use, primal play cause she roughs him up a little and calls him “her prey” hihi, she presses him against the front door and touches him, choking, he also later chokes himself, hair pulling, thigh riding, some very mild CBT with her knee, needy and sloppy making out, she leads him to the bedroom by his tie, oh yeah he is wearing a suit, needy stripping, use of a sensitivity cream, use of a prostate vibrator, male anal play, sounding of his leaky cock, he experiences very intense pleasure, use of a vibrator against the sound, full body squirting orgasms <3, subby boy tears, dirty talk, praise, I just gotta say it again he is in very deep subspace, this is my service Dom dream oh lord, loving aftercare, they’re kinky & in love <3

Wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: click this !nsfw! link if you wanna get a visual. like, i don’t think you guys understand. i’m fucking obsessed with this kink jdfja confession time, i never did it in real life but it looks so fun and i need to do this to a willing subby boy omfg oh lord what the fuckckkckc i need to touch some grass lmaooa

Yoongi in a suit is to die for. Yoongi in a suit tight enough to show off his strong chest and big butt is your official end.

So when he comes home that night, exhausted from an award show and happy to be back with you, you can barely keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi manages to place the keys down on the dresser and he already has you around him, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

“Hey there superstar, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You give him a little nibble, grabbing his butt unapologetically.

“Oh”, he gasps, tensing up. “What are you doing?”

“Just making sure it’s still there.”

He laughs, looking into your eyes deeply. He is amused by you and enjoys what you are doing, it’s obvious in his look.

“Last time I checked, it was still there. Yeah.”

“Mhm, it is. Mhhhhm it really is”, you coo, rubbing his buttocks unapologetically while you press your chest against his’. You slide your grabby hands between his legs and squeeze.

Yoongi squeaks in surprise, getting on his tiptoes and widening his eyes. He even grabs your shoulders, looking completely disoriented for a second.

“That seems to be still there as well. Mhhm how heavy and warm, my darling”, you rasp, massaging his balls rather disrespectfully. He is wearing very tight briefs in order not to have a weird bulging accident in public. They are very tight and very thin and keep his plumb balls right where they’re supposed to be and oh lord, how easy it is to grab them like this.

Yoongi’s knees buckle slightly, his eyelids flutter for just a second.

“Okay, can we- Ahm, ah, ___ this isn’t my butt”, he gets out.

“I’m aware”, you say matter-of-factly and grab his waist, using his moment of total surprise to twirl him and press him against the door.

Yoongi both squeaks and moans, head hitting the wood against his will as you practically keep him hostage.

“Tell me to leave you alone”, you rasp and Yoongi knows that this is you asking for his consent.

“Please don’t leave me alone”, he begs, giving you everything you needed to know.

You hook your hands in the collar of his suit jacket, ripping it off his body like this. His weakened arms flail for a few moments before you have them pinned against the door.

“Holy fuck Yoongi, you ripped your vest”, you gasp, staring at the ruined fabric of his suit vest.

“My back was too big, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you practically steal his breath away by pulling him into a kiss by his hair. His head is tilted back like this, his back is arched.

A tremor of shock and pleasure runs through his entire body, his hands desperately reach behind him to grab your wrists. You tug rather harshly on his hair and his poor little heart can only take that much before it implodes. It also isn’t helpful that you have your knee lifted between his legs, applying rather painful pressure on his cock and balls.

He whines into the kisses, throat working oh so hard to swallow all the drool he suddenly produces.

He had a very stressful and long day. The award show was filled with exhausting social interactions, tiring speeches and way too many noises. There was also his constant need to look presentable in fear of being filmed in an unflattering moment and the constant pressure not to do something that could later be regarded as a “scandal”. Yes, that even includes normal human functions like letting out a little yawn or accidentally zoning out on someone’s face. Truly, his day was long and exhausting and he was so excited to come home to you and be himself again.

He didn’t expect such a greeting and quite frankly, it is way too powerful for him. His toes give up on him, forcing him to sit down on your knee and therefore increase the pressure on his balls. The kiss breaks because he lets out a pained moan.

You eat it up with a hungry growl, digging your hand deeper into his luscious locks. Your other hand slides to his waist, bruising it slightly as you begin guiding his body over your thigh.

“Wait please”, he gets out, collapsing into the door, “wait.” His eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed, “Mommy, wait.”

“How do you expect me to wait when you call me like this? I had to watch you be pretty on stage and I couldn’t do anything about it. Don’t deny me my right to claim you.”

Playing rough is what works for you and him. In the earlier stages of your relationship, when you and he got to know each other’s kinks, you had a long and thorough talk about your dos and don’ts. Playing rough and using the other “whenever” is something you discovered to both like. Honestly, you feel like Yoongi secretly likes it even more than you. He might be whining right now, but his body speaks a different language. He bends and arches it into the most unnatural positions just to get closer to you. His cock is so swollen in his slacks and his balls so plumb against your knee. He gets off on this.

He gets off on the thought that you were practically waiting for him to come home, that he is so desirable to you that you can’t control yourself anymore, that everything you need is him. Yoongi would never admit it, but he loves being desired to the point where you are almost animalistic with him. Sometimes he does something solely to catch your attention and when you react in uncontrollable desire to touch him, Yoongi feels high. A true rush of pleasure however are the moments where he wasn’t trying and you still end up needing him. When those disrespectful, horny touches start, when you are rough with him, when you almost seem to hunt him like prey, Yoongi could honestly climax just from that.

It turns him on so much.

“Mhm Yoongi? Tell me why I should wait”, you stress, digging your fingertips into the back of his neck.

“I don’t know”, Yoongi whines, tilting his head back.

“You don’t know. That’s too bad then”, you hiss, giving him a rough shove.

Yoongi stumbles, arching his back. He mewls, reaching behind himself to pull you into a kiss. You gladly let it happen, shoving your tongue into his mouth and grabbing his chin to keep him pinned. He has to crane his neck like this, feeling his blood pound in his dizzy head. Your grip is so territorial, your kiss so hungry. Yoongi feels like a well-desired price being taken no matter what.

He turns in your possessive hold, hooking his arms behind your head and letting you kiss him as if his taste was your life elixir. He willingly sits down on your knee again, fucking himself needy with sloppy wiggles of his hips. He also willingly lets you claim his throat in an obsessive grip, melting like chocolate in the sun when you apply gentle pressure on his veins. He trusts you with his life, knowing that you are an expert in stealing his breath. Not once did he get the feeling that having your hand around his throat would end badly for him. You know exactly where to hold him, how to choke him, what not to do. This is religious to him. It leaves him vast of air, dizzy and completely at your mercy and he wants to swim in the fuzzy feelings you create in his chest because of it. Granted, he could still breathe because you never apply pressure on his throat, but he still can’t. He holds his breath to kiss you for longer, only fighting for it once his lungs work against his will. And each time he does, you catch your breath as well, tasting every one of his sounds before claiming him again, needier than before.

And soon, oh so very soon, you cannot take it anymore. You abandon his neck for the sole reason of dragging him with you by his tie. You and he kiss sloppily, moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth as you maneuver through your home.

Yoongi gladly lets you drag him around. Quite frankly, you could do whatever you want with him to get him from point A to B. If you decide to drag him around by his hair, he would welcome it gladly. One time, you decided that it was only appropriate to lead him around by his balls and Yoongi had to do everything in his power to not orgasm too soon. He is quite frankly, your devoted, happy puppy who wants to follow you everywhere.

Tonight he really needed it. He needs to follow you into a place of worship, desire and pleasure. It is the only way to leave behind the stressful award show with its stupid rules and social contacts.

His ripped vest leaves him in the hallway. His belt, which was solely decorative, leaves him in front of the bedroom door. His tie gets loosened inside the room and his buttons get messily opened as you push him to the bed. Yoongi feels like a present being unwrapped prematurely, having to work very hard not to climax prematurely himself.

The back of his legs hit the edge. You weakened him so intensely that he collapses with the first contact, falling onto the bed with a squeaky moan. His back hits the mattress, arching off at impact.

You ravish him with needy touches, clawing off his button up shirt and ripping open the fly of his slacks.

A tight compression shirt reveals itself under the button up. His chest and waist look so snatched in it, his nipples protrude through the fabric.

“You wore this underneath all of it?” you gasp.

“I don’t like to go shirtless under button ups”, he whines, writhing in ecstasy when you drag your nails down his chest and stomach.

“I feel like a fucking predator who got its prey. I literally wanna rip you up and eat you.”

“Please”, Yoongi keens, arching his back.

Ever since the beginning, it was clear that he will be the little bunny and you the big bad wolf in your relationship. And he loves it. He dreamed of it for years, thinking to himself that he will never find someone who can actually make him want to submit like this. And then he met you. You are the most wonderful and kind person ever, you are so sweet and loving and so understanding. Yoongi hasn’t laughed like this with anyone ever, he hasn’t felt so safe and so loved. Being your little prey is everything he lives for these days. You make him feel so fucking fulfilled and in return, you feel completely fulfilled yourself.

He is everything you ever dreamed of. He is kind and sweet and unbelievably loving. He makes you laugh and never makes you feel alone. When you aren’t with him, you think of him and when he is with you, you are happy. It has been years and your obsession with him hasn’t shrunk, on the contrary, you love him more and more each day.

“Fuck, I could honestly eat you”, you get out and begin tugging his shirt out of his pants quickly. Yoongi helps you by sitting up and pulling it over his head, dropping into the sheets again afterwards. He stretches his arms over his head, writhing sensually for your viewing pleasure.

He moans loudly when you instantly claim his unmarked skin with your hungry mouth. You kiss and lick him, leaving spots of your devotion wherever he is sensitive. He takes each mark with pride, leaking into his slacks. He becomes more and more yours. Finally he gets to see it as well. He gets to look into the mirror and count each mark of love you left. He gets to trace them and reminisce about how it was to be yours. He is in paradise.

You suck an especially dark hickey right under his belly button.

“Thank you”, he croaks out, unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer.

You let go of him, soothing the pinch with long, deliberate licks.

“Thank you?”

Your hands are on his waist, holding him hostage. You are kneeling on the floor between his legs. Despite your difference in height, it is you who towers over him. At least emotionally. You might be the one looking up at him right now, but there is no ounce of power in Yoongi. He is completely and utterly under you, choking out another “thank you” while his hips roll up against nothing.

“For marking you?”

He nods his head, squirming sensually.

“Fuck. You drive me insane”, you rasp and claim his waist by biting him deeply. Obviously not enough to actually hurt him, but still hard enough to leave a red mark.

Yoongi wails up, twisting the sheets above his head and leaking into his pants so aggressively that he can feel it stick to his skin.

“Mine.” You come up, kissing the tender spot. “All mine. You’re mine.”

“Yours”, he moans, meaning ever single fucking letter of this word. If he could be yours even deeper, he would. Without hesitation. He was independent and a lover for solitude before he met you. Granted, he is still these things, but he is also very clingy and cuddly and obsessed with attention. Yoongi never thought it possible that he could be a lover of such “cheesy” things, but he is. He loves, loves, loves it when you touch him and hold him and make him yours.

You take off his slacks next, dancing your hands up his legs.

“One last chance to stop this”, you tell him, ogling his bulge. His cock practically wants to burst through his briefs.

“I don’t want to stop this, please touch me more”, he begs, lifting his hips.

You take his consent, pulling off his briefs carefully. You throw them to the side, instantly claiming him by marking his thighs as well.

Yoongi mewls, throwing his legs over your shoulders and giving you complete control over them. They are trembling like crazy each time you mark another spot with your love.

Soon you reach his middle and you waste no fucking time. You nuzzle your face into him, inhaling deeply which embarrasses him.

“Don’t do that”, he begs, wanting to go up in flames. You always tell him that you love his scent, but it’s so embarrassing when you smell him like this. His face feels so hot, his stomach is so tight.

You growl and come up for air, meeting his shy gaze. Yoongi has to gulp when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“If I could, I would bottle your scent so I always have it with me.”

“Stop please”, he begs, closing his legs in embarrassment.

You obviously force them apart again, holding them in a tight grip as you stand up. They slide off your body like this, but still stay in the air as you hold them. You bend them by his knees, slowly forcing them into the sheets beside his body. Yoongi’s ability to breathe gets more and more forgotten the closer to his face you come.

He holds his breath when you are above him. His legs are over your shoulders, his body is bent in half. He is naked, marked and completely vulnerable while you are still completely dressed.

“Don’t be shy, babyboy. You smell like heaven.”

Yoongi pouts and squirms, forcing you to pin him down.

“I want to give you pleasure so good that you will squirt.”

Yoongi gulps. When you don’t continue to speak, he knows that you are waiting for his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he croaks out.

“I want to stimulate your prostate from every possible angle.”

Yoongi whimpers. He truly and honestly whimpers. When he makes noises as such, it is impossible to know that his voice is naturally so deep and raspy.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

He nods his head, wiggling his feet on your back in excitement.

“You also know that I’m gonna be so careful with you, don’t you?”

He nods his head with more vigour.

“So what it’s gonna be? Yes or yes please?”

Yoongi knows that there is a secret third answer called “no” which he can always, fucking always, voice, but it’s still so hot to him that you make it seem as if he had no choice. That you are going to pleasure him no matter what because he is your little price and you take what you want.

“Yes plase”, he gets out breathily, widening his eyes in a beg.

You seem pleased by his answer, giving him an adoring smile.

“I knew that you would be polite. You’re Mommy’s good boy after all.”

“I am”, he whispers, nodding his head.

“Mhm, you are.”

You straighten up, helping him set down his legs. He knows that distance is necessary, but he still aches when you break away from him. He counts the seconds until you are back, reminiscing about all the times you pleasured him like this.

Sounding. This is what you are going to do to him. Yoongi is no stranger to the kink and he definitely didn’t have it before you. You and he discovered it together one night where you managed to slip your pinky finger into his cock as you jerked him off and Yoongi climaxed so hard from it that he saw stars. You did research together, bought toys and practiced until the kink became a regular thing in your bedroom.

It is so much fun and feels so good to both of you. Quite frankly, you have done it so many times already that he can comfortably take the entire sound which allows you to stimulate his prostate from another angle. Yoongi didn’t even know that he could feel it from his cock and he definitely didn’t think that he could orgasm so fucking hard. But of course you proved him wrong. You are an actual goddess after all.

“Hello, I’m back”, you announce your presence, caressing his knees.

Yoongi looks at you, sighing your name.

“I missed you.”

“Of course you did. You’re a little obsessed”, you tease him, making him giggle shyly.

You giggle with him, studying him from head to toe.

“Now”, you begin and pick up a anal vibrator, “let’s get started.”

“Wait. I didn’t clean out.”

“I think it should be alright. I’ll only stick it in and then keep it there. Is this okay for you?”

“Yeah, just promise to keep it in. I’m embarrassed about the…potential dirt.”

You chuckle, “you’re not dirty. It is really okay not to want it.”

“I do”, he whispers, “please, I want it a lot.”

“Well. Okay then, I don’t know why you’re whining.”

He laughs, scrunching his eyes. You know exactly how to rid him of his nervousness. You snicker and kiss his knee then straighten up to prepare him.

You cover the vibrator in a translucent slick, spreading the rest of it on his hole. You apply a little pressure with your fingers, massaging him.

“Oh wow”, he lets out, melting into a puddle.

“Can you feel it working already?” you ask him.

Yoongi closes his eyes, concentrating on the sensations. Your touch is warm, growing in temperature the longer you rub him. Fuck, why is he getting so sensitive? Wait. He knows what that means. He rips his eyes open, moaning helplessly.

“Now, you figured it out. Just a little something to increase the pleasure. You deserve it”, you say, exchanging your fingers with the vibrator. You work it into his overly sensitive hole carefully. The sensitivity cream you use on him is slippery enough to double as lube so you aren’t worried about tears. You do this on purpose to help the cream work even deeper.

“This is so intense”, he croaks, eyes squeezed shut. He can’t handle it any other way. He has to focus on nothing but the increasing pleasure between his legs. You stretch his hole so gently. It doesn’t hurt at all, despite the head of the vibrator being rather girthy. With his eyes closed, everything he exists for is this sensation. The slow, deliberate prodding of his hole and the increasing depth of the toy; it is everything he breathes for right now. It is both so relaxing and incredibly exciting. Yoongi doesn’t know whether to completely melt or tense every single muscle in his body.

“Can you feel that, darling?”

“Feel what?” he sighs.

“That you’ve been taking the entire toy for the last few moments?”

“What?” he breathes and lifts his head.

Your hand is pressed flat to his ass, a telltale sign that his greedy hole swallowed the entire toy.

“I wasn’t aware”, he croaks, rolling his eyes back and dropping his head. He fucks the air, moaning your name.

You chuckle.

“Now you are”, you say and grip the toy by its round base to wiggle it inside him.

Yoongi reacts in tremors of his body and submissive moans. Now that he is aware of the depth of the toy, he swears it is impossible to handle. The sensitivity cream does its job and makes his insides terribly sensitive to stimulation. He swears that he can feel the toy shift inside him. He needed this so bad and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Oh god, this feels so good. I needed this”, he chokes out, hole trembling around the toy as you fuck him slowly.

“Of course you did. I saw how you wiggled your butt when you were dancing. You were just asking to have it fucked, weren’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head because what you say is the truth. He did ask for it to be fucked. It is decided.

“Of course you were. I’m so fucking obsessed with you”, you rasp, rewarding him with side to side wiggles.

“God wow”, he arches his back, “the cream is intense. Oh god.”

“Yeah? Do you feel how I fill you out, mhm?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

“You’re so pretty taking me”, you praise, sending trembles through his legs.

“Stop please, I’m close.”

You cease your movements, soaking up the tensing of his stomach and the little mewl he lets out. Your hands roam his marked thighs, eyes totally entranced by his pretty face.

“Shit, that was close. Ah fuck”, he gets out, writhing from side to side.

“I think you’re gonna have a very hard time lasting long”, you snicker.

“I think you’re correct”, he says, making you laugh.

He laughs with you, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Holy fuck, you have me so ruined”, he mewls, dropping into the sheets in total defeat. “Please, just…more…”

“I can grant you this wish.”

Silence overcomes you as you prepare the sound for him. You use normal lube for it, slathering an insane amount on the metal pole. The sounding toy is a thin metal pole with around six inches of length a good finger’s width of girth. It is slightly textured and has a round tip. It isn’t the first sound you used, but the third one. Yoongi can comfortably take it these days, driving you crazy in the process.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, forcing him to twitch.

You laugh, “this already starts well.”

“I didn’t expect it”, he defends himself.

“Mhm, sure. I think you’re sensitive”, you tease.

You connect the toy with his tip, getting him used to it by rubbing circles around his slit. He became leakier ever since you started engaging in this kink together. Especially when he knows that he is going to get his cock quite literally fucked, his pretty dick can’t stop producing the neediest slick.

“Your pretty hole is so wet, babyboy”, you taunt him, giving him a gentle spank with the toy. “it’s practically asking to get fucked.”

“Please”, he begs, feeling dizzy. There is nothing more powerful than your dirty talk.

“Take a deep breath, I’m starting.”

Yoongi obeys, but struggles when you begin pushing the sound into his small hole. His chest rumbles in desperate noises, lifting up and down quickly.

“Are you comfortable?”

He nods his head.

You push deeper, watching in delight how his pretty cockhead swallows the bulbous head of the toy. The worst part is over. You apply pressure around his shaft, keeping your thumb against his thick vein at the underside of his cock. You can feel the toy entering him when you press against it and you use it to your advantage by massaging him wherever the sound currently sits.

“Slower, please slower.”

“Hurts or close?”

“Close. Fuck, really close.”

“Just keep breathing, baby.”

“I’m trying. Oh god, it feels so good.”

You smile. He is so precious. With a fluttering heart, you fill him deeper, guiding your thumb down his cock as the metal toy fills him up more and more. His vein is bulging wherever the toy already sits, his hole is so puffy around the shaft. He is flushed like crazy, constantly leaking new slick. It seems to become more and more the deeper you enter him, almost as if he is trying to make space for you by getting wet.

“One fourth left, babyboy. How are you doing?”

“Aha, yeah, mhm ah”, he lets out, nodding his head. He doesn’t need to say more. It is so obvious to you that he is in paradise.

You would be correct with your assumption. Yoongi is so far gone, existing only for the pleasure. Now, he has to be honest, getting his cock penetrated is intense. It stretches a hole which wasn’t meant to be stretched and fills insides which were never meant to be filled. It doesn’t hurt, but it is also isn’t entirely comfortable. It is intense and addicting and you do it so well that he feels far away.

There is sudden pressure deep in his body. Yoongi can describe it as a mixture of having the intense urge to pee and someone pressing a finger against his prostate at the same time. He knows that it is because you reached the end of his cock, now pressing the sound right against his prostate. One wrong move and it would hurt, but you know what you are doing.

Because the toy is so deep inside him, it can stay at the right spot without having to be held. You run your hand up his cock, picking it up to jerk it off.

“Mommy, holy fuck”, he presses out, following it up with a guttural moan and his hips lifting off the sheets. The handjob moves his cock over the toy, sending constant pleasure through his shaft. It is indescribable. When his cock is stuffed, he can feel orgasmic pleasure in his entire cock and balls. When you give him a normal handjob, it only feels orgasmic on his tip, but with the sound deep inside him, every inch is sensitive.

Yoongi is restless on the sheets, moaning from the bottom of his heart.

“Yeah, holy fuck. You look so pretty, it’s insane”, you agree, voice raspy in desire. You put your other hand on his balls, pressing your thumb against where you can feel the sound inside him. You draw circles on the spot, focusing your handjob on his tip for now.

“Stop! I’m gonna cum, stop it please.”

You wrap your fingers around his base, rubbing your other hand on his thigh.

“Breathe baby, breathe.”

Yoongi obeys shakily, burying his own hands in his hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? Holy fuck, I feel like a fucking virgin.”

“That’s hot. Holy hell, you say the sexiest stuff.”

You pick up a slow rhythm, having to stop it again when he flinches and begs you for a break. You let him breathe through it, holding his cock.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive.”

“That’s alright. Just say the word and I’ll make all of this stop. You can get what you want most.” You rub his balls, tracing the sound deep inside him. “It’s gonna be intense though, I can’t promise you that you won’t see stars.”

“Please”, Yoongi writhes as he willingly sacrifices himself to your enchanting touch.

“Please release me or please stop? Use your words, babyboy.”

“Please Mommy, make it stop.”

“Make it stop. I understand. Hold your cock for a moment.”

Yoongi obeys, following you with droopy eyes as you seem to get a third toy. You are hidden behind a blurry veil of unspilled tears and drugged senses.

Suddenly there are vibrations. Deep, deep in his ass and right against his prostate. Yoongi curls up as if he was punched in the gut, moaning the same way too. The tears escape his eyes and you disappear behind even more blurriness as he loses the ability to focus his eyes.

He is glad that you replace his hand around his cock. His muscles are too weak, working only to bring his shaky hand to his own throat. He chokes himself, lost to the pleasure and so far away. The only thing clear is the electricity inside his stomach and your voice as you talk to him.

“That’s my boy. Choke yourself for me.”

Another buzzing joins the one of the prostate vibrator. Seconds later, he feels unbearable pleasure in his entire cock as you press a wand vibrator against the metal sound. The vibrations go down the entire rod, forcing the round tip to shake against his prostate. You intensify it by running your unoccupied hand up and down his balls and cock, forcing the toy to shift and move inside him.

You promised him relief, but this is insanity. You never did that before. You sounded him, used a prostate toy but not like this. Not with vibrations and at the same time.

Yoongi isn’t a very loud person. Even in bed he is on the more quiet site. You get purrs and whines and moans, but they never go past a certain volume. Yoongi is a quiet and reserved person or so he thought.

Because right now, you are making him genuinely scream. He never did that before, hell, he didn’t even think that he had it in him, but he has to. The orgasm you make him experience takes over his entire fucking body. It never felt like this before. It shouldn’t even be possible to feel like this, but it does and he has to scream because of it.

He cums all over the rod, throbbing and convulsing with such intensity that he manages to squeeze it out of himself all by his own. It glides against the wand, shaking because of the vibrations which only makes it more intense. The last inch hurts as the round head slips past his swollen slit. The relief is instant. Clear liquid squirts everywhere, ruining not only the sheets but his body as well.

“Yes baby, squirt for me. That’s it”, you talk him through it, helping him ride out his most intense orgasm ever by jerking off his empty cock and pressing the wand against his overly sensitive tip.

It is not a surprise that Yoongi begs you to stop once his orgasm dies down. You didn’t expect him to go again, not after what you just witnessed. You turn off the vibrators and instantly scoop him up on your arms, holding him safely as he twitches helplessly.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here”, you whisper to him, playing with his hair and rubbing his shaking back.

“What did you do to me? Oh god I can’t stop shaking”, he gets out, sobbing quietly as the intense afterglow overwhelms him.

“Shhh it’s okay, darling. I’m right here. Let it happen, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Yoongi seeks your embrace, cuddling so close to you it feels as if he is trying to merge with you. He can’t talk a lot at first, recovering with little noises and shaky breaths. You let it happen, holding him until he feels ready to face you.

And oh, how he faces you, how he looks up at you as if you were his fucking everything. His wet eyes let you know that he cried, his cheeks and nose are still flushed, his once neat makeup is smeared and messy.

You give him a smile, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me, but please don’t ever stop”, he whispers, voice shaky in emotion.

“Did you like it that much?”

He nods his head, “you just made me fucking scream. I, I never screamed before. I felt it with my entire body. I don't know what happened to me. What, what’s still happening to me.”

You smile, dropping your forehead against his. Yoongi closes his eyes, chasing your affection by rubbing his nose against yours.

“You make me happy when you talk like this, my love”, you whisper.

“I’m happy too, so fucking much.”

You smile and kiss his nose. Yoongi chases the tenderness, twisting the front of your shirt with weak fingers.

“Please promise me that we are forever”, he whispers. “I think you would fucking break me if you ever left.”

“God, I really got you good tonight. My sappy romantic, you”, you smile as you talk, pulling him closer, “the only way I’m gonna leave you, Min Yoongi, is if someone claws me off of you against my will.”

He chuckles and holds you close, “good. That’s fucking good. Ah fuck, I’m done. This was so intense.”

“It really was. You made a total mess of the bed.”

“I know. I think my soul left my body.”

You snicker, he snickers as well, kicking his feet happily.

“Gosh you, I could seriously eat you.”

Yoongi purrs, smiling goofily and stubbing your lips with his nose. You take his silent plea for more nose kisses instantly, nibbling on it gently which makes him giggle and squirm happily.

Quite frankly, he will endure all the annoying award shows in the world if it meant that he can come home to you and find his rebirth in the palms of your healing hands.

182 notes · View notes

togrowoldinv · 8 months ago

Text

Time

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you visit the Bartons with your family, you and Natasha spend some quality time reconnecting

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, fingering (R receiving), oral (N and R receiving), being needy, some fluff too

Note: Enjoy this hehe

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Are we there yet?” Your youngest daughter asks from the backseat of the car.

You’ve been driving for hours to reach the Barton farm. Natasha wants to visit while the kids are on spring break.

“The answer is still no, sweetheart,” Natasha answers patiently.

“We’ll tell you when we get there, Taylor,” Ali, your oldest, jumps in. She’s annoyed by the constant question and her tone doesn’t hide that.

“Be nice,” you remind her.

“Yeah be nice, Al,” your oldest son says. The two oldest kids start arguing, but Nat stops it quickly.

“Hey, none of that,” she says, expertly parenting. “This is a family trip. We will be kind to each other and we will have fun. Understood?”

A few nods follow.

“Understood?” Nat repeats.

That gets her the answers she was waiting for. A chorus of yes ma’am’s resound from the backseat. You turn up the radio and try to make the last hour of the trip enjoyable.

When you pull in the driveway, you look back at Taylor.

“Ask the question again, baby,” you say.

“Are we there yet?”

“We are here,” you reply. “Come on let’s go have some fun.”

You all unload from the car. Nat refused to be a minivan family, so you settled for a three row suv. The Bartons come outside to help.

“Hi Nat,” Laura greets your wife. She hugs her tight. There’s only a handful of people in the world that Natasha trusts as much as she does Laura and Clint.

“And hi y/n,” she greets you as well.

You’re corralling the babies at the moment and can’t hug her, but the warm smile on her face feels like a hug.

“Go see Auntie Laura,” you say to Belle and Taylor, the two littlest girls.

The girls run to her and hug her tight. Ali is catching up with Lila while Ivan, Jack, and Cooper reconnect.

“Well, I guess it’s just us to unload,” Nat comments. She walks around to meet you at the back of the car.

“What’s new?” You joke.

“Hey, while we have a second alone,” Nat begins. She presses you against the back of the car, running her hands over your shoulders and arms down to your hands. “Thank you for coming. And I love you.”

“I love you too, Natasha,” you say, feeling your face flush from how close she is. You can smell her perfume and her fresh hair.

She’s so close to you that it hurts. You want to devour her.

“I’ll show you later just how much I love you, okay?” Her voice is low, sexy as it could be.

Nat leans in and steals a quick but deep kiss, leaving you wanting more.

You pout when she pulls away, but she just laughs. You’re too easy.

Later that day, Clint drives everyone out to the field where he’s got a new pig pin. The kids love chasing the pigs around and playing with them.

Natasha shares a look with you about an hour into the fun that tells you she wants to get back to the house and have her own type of fun with you.

“Clint, we’re going to head back,” she tells him.

“But Mama we’re having fun!” Belle says.

“They can stay out here with us. I know you two are exhausted from the drive in,” Laura says. She winks at you. Maybe you weren’t so slick earlier behind the car.

“Thanks Laur,” Natasha says. “Be good, babies.”

You both kiss each kid before you start walking back to the house with Natasha. You’re hand in hand as you walk through the field. You love seeing Nat like this. So free. So happy.

Your smile must reveal that to her. She stops and turns to you.

“What is it?” Nat asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me differently,” she replies.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say. “And you’re even more beautiful out here.”

Natasha kisses you softly. She is so in love.

“We better get back to the house before I take you right here in this field,” Nat says.

“What would be so wrong with that?” You say, surprised by your own boldness.

“Oh,” Nat remarks. “Did my wife, my sweet, sweet, innocent wife just say that she wants me to fuck her right here outside where anyone could see us?”

You know she can see the way she’s making you feel. An absolute puddle for her.

“Come on,” Nat says, grabbing your hand again and pulling towards the house again.

By the time you make it to the porch, you’re tripping over each other as you try to make out while walking.

“Upstairs now,” Nat says.

You move as fast you can into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Natasha pulls you to her and turns you to back you into the bed. You fall back a little harshly, but Natasha’s lips connecting with yours distracts you from the slight pain.

“Fuck,” you moan into her mouth.

Nat’s strong hands pull your shirt over your head. You barely have time to process it before you’re entirely naked underneath her.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Nat asks.

“Yes,” you say. She takes a nipple in her mouth while her fingers slip between your legs. “Fuck.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” Natasha says.

Her fingers enter you quickly. She swallows your moan with her kiss. You want her to be as undressed as you are. You reach for her shirt hem, but she pushes your hand away.

“Just you right now,” Natasha says. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say.

Her fingers continue to pump in and out of you at a fast pace. You can feel yourself slipping into a blissful state.

“Natasha,” you mumble. It’s all you can say right now.

“I love you,” Natasha says. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You let yourself come and come hard for your wife. It’s the best sex you’ve had in months, maybe years.

“That’s right, baby. You’re so good,” Nat says as she works you down. “So good for me.”

Natasha drops a kiss to your forehead and lies beside you. You come back to reality at the feeling of her hand circling yours.

“God, I have missed that,” you say.

Nat chuckles. She has too.

“Shower with me?” She asks.

“Gladly,” you agree.

Nat helps you out of bed and essentially carries you to the bathroom. You start the shower.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to her clothes. You want to be the one to take them off.

“Please,” Nat says.

You lift her shirt over her head. It never ceases to amaze you how beautiful she is. You unclasp her bra and kiss her shoulder softly.

“Gorgeous,” you whisper, placing your head in the crook of her neck.

You move your hands down her abs and to her waist. Slipping your hands down the jeans she’s wearing, you find her dripping wet for you.

“Getting me off really turns you on, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” You ask her.

“Mhm,” she says. “But I’m in control here.”

Nat takes a step back and pulls her own pants down. She takes your hand and leads you into the shower.

“Why deny yourself, Nat? You know I’d kneel for you right here and now.” You ask her.

Natasha smirks. This was exactly her plan. To have you begging to make her feel good.

“Then kneel,” Natasha says after a long pause. She presses on your shoulders just enough to make you feel the pressure.

Grinning, you drop to your knees. You can’t even remember the last time you were in this position with her. God, you love farm Natasha.

“Right there, detka,” she says. “Yes.”

You hum in pleasure at the taste of her. You’re the luckiest person in the world to be here with her like this.

“Yes! Fuck, y/n, yes!” Natasha groans out. You can’t see her but you know she’s biting her lip. She’s close. It doesn’t take much longer for Natasha to be trembling at the feeling of your mouth all over her.

“I’m coming,” Nat says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You help her ride her high and lick her until she’s pushing you away. You stand back up and she kisses you immediately.

Her tongue mingles with yours. The taste of her orgasm on your tongue turns her on even more.

“How long do we have?” She asks you.

“Not long I’d bet,” you say. “It’s almost dinner time.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Nat says.

She pushes you to the edge of the shower and you sit down, spreading your legs for her.

“All for me,” Natasha says. “Look at this.”

“All for you, Nat. Only you,” you reply.

She buries her face between your legs. You can’t help but lift your hips up at the feeling. Natasha holds your hips and helps you move them. Soon enough, you’re riding her face.

“Natasha,” you say over and over like it’s a prayer. “Natasha!”

You hold her head with one hand and keep yourself steady with the other. She eats you out like it’s the only place in the world she wants to be.

You come hard against her tongue. Nat moans successfully and pulls away to let you come down.

She grins at your blissed out face. She loves making you feel so good.

“I love you,” she says softly. It’s a sharp contrast to what you were just doing. “I hope you know how much I love you.”

“I do, baby,” you say, caressing her cheek. “I love you exactly the same.”

You kiss each other gently. Nat helps you stand back up and you actually shower. The water isn’t hot anymore, so you hurry up.

Once you get out, you get dressed and go downstairs. The family is just getting back from being outside. Perfect timing.

“Enjoy your alone time?” Laura asks.

“We sure did,” Natasha replies. She wraps an arm around your waist. You share a soft smile.

For the rest of the trip, you and Natasha soak up every moment with each other and with your family. It’s absolutely an amazing week.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut

631 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 months ago

Note

Would you write us a mini blurb of Kylie trying to steal Jake and then her trying to get with the other daggers. Would love to see Jake call her out for being a shitty friend and crappy person in general. Then watch him hype up his girl and she comes along and watch’s the whole thing unfold. would be amazing.

I've been thinking about this scenario all week! Kylie would sabotage her friendship with Darlin' (or what's left of it) just to have even the slightest chance to get some attention from Jake. I mentioned that she definitely hit on him at the bar before Darlin' formally introduced them, but apparently that rejection from Jake early on wasn't enough.

"I can't believe I'm graduating in a week," you moaned. Jake had you pinned up against your bedroom wall in your tiny apartment that you shared with Kylie. He was pretty sure your roommate heard the two of you having sex last night; the wall between the bedrooms seemed to be paper thin, and she barely looked at either of you all day while you moved your stuff out.

"And you're moving in with me today," Jake grunted, kissing along your neck as you sighed in contentment. "You're a busy girl, Darlin'."

There were only a few boxes that still needed to make their way to his truck, and while the two of you barely spent any time here together, he was feeling a little nostalgic. There was that one weekend when Kylie was in Mexico and the power was out at his place where the two of you made love on the living room floor. And your bed frame was bent after the week of spring break when he fucked you so hard, the metal got warped.

"This was a good apartment," he murmured, and you laughed in response.

"You told me so many times you hated sleeping over here!"

Jake took a step away from you, and stacked up three boxes to take to his truck. "I hated having to be quiet and get fully dressed before I could leave your bedroom. But there were some good times," he replied with a wink. "I'll run these outside and be right back."

You followed him as far as your apartment door, saying, "I'll check my mailbox one last time and meet you back up here."

Then you went right while he went left, and it only took Jake a minute to throw the boxes into his truck and sprint back upstairs. He was just getting himself a drink of water when he heard you walk back in.

"Hey, Dar-" But it wasn't you. It was your almost former roommate. "Hey, Kylie."

"Jake," she replied with a smile, making his name sound idiotically like it was three syllables long. "Let me see your phone?"

He took a long sip of water before he finally asked, "Why?"

"Just let me see it." She reached out and poked his phone in his jeans pocket, and he took a step backwards, spilling his water down the front of his shirt.

"Why?" he asked again, this time anger seeped into his voice.

"So you can have my number. For when you get bored."

He was so confused now. "Bored?" He would never be bored enough to want to talk to her, but then she said something that really made him mad.

"Yeah... bored with your relationship."

He stood completely still, and the expression on his face must have scared her, because her hand froze on the way back to his pocket. "You know what? You're a really shitty friend."

"No, I'm not," she said with a shrug, still trying to be coy.

But Jake snapped. "What is it exactly? You're mad that you were able to collect all the other guys, but not me? Or you're bitchy because she didn't have to do anything except be herself to make me fall in love with her?"

"What's going on?" you asked from the doorway. When Jake looked at you, there was uncertainty in his eyes, which made him sick.

"Absolutely not a damn thing," he practically growled. He took the mail from your hand and shoved it into the last box with your name on it. Then he picked it up and wrapped his free hand around your waist. "Say goodbye to Kylie. We won't be seeing her again."

Then he led you out to his truck without a backward glance and drove you to his place where you would never be treated badly if he had anything to say about it.

#if you ask emily #jake seresin x reader #fake it til you jake it #fake it til you jake it hc

296 notes · View notes

nightwngz · 3 months ago

Note

Oh my beloved, here's a little idea for you!

'Am I the asshole for dating my best friend's ex?' Where Barry absolutely couldn't let slip the opportunity to have Hal's pretty ex for himself, well, she doesn't belong to him anymore right?

Like, he sees that she's so sad because of the breakup and he's just so nice, gentle, kind with her, why not give him a chance? Barry knows that it must sucks to not have someone to kiss :(((

�� 𝓔𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 ✩!!

barry allen x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… Smut. Dirty talk. Fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Omg, omg! You practically read my mind because Barry is practically my current obsession. By the way, sorry for the delay, dear, I didn't quite know how to write it. 💗

Barry and Hal have always been best friends. They got along so well that even when you were dating Hal, it never occurred to you that Barry might betray his trust, not even if you suggested it yourself.

And after spending so much time going out with your friend and sharing dinners, lunches, and breakfasts, with a bit of a hangover in between, you started to think that Barry could also become a good friend for you.

Even after you broke up with Hal, Barry continued to stand by your side, supporting and indulging you.

Though you never suspected him of double-dealing, Barry remained neutral about your breakup. It's not that he didn't care about Hal; in fact, he had more than once questioned whether he was doing the wrong thing by approaching you, even after you and Hal had ended things.

But yes, he was a complete asshole for approaching you in the first place, and he was even more of an idiot for falling in love with his friend's girlfriend in the first place.

He had fantasized about Hal's girlfriend countless times, and many of those times he had to restrain the desire to touch himself by thinking of you, so as not to betray him.

But it wasn't until he saw you crying on the floor of your apartment with a bottle of alcohol in your hand that he realized you were no longer his best friend's girlfriend. The relationship had ended, and although you were still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup, there was nothing that alcohol and other distractions couldn't alleviate.

"Hal is my friend, but sometimes he can be a real jerk. Don't worry, if you need to vent, go ahead," he suggested, trying to be friendly.

However, when you took his lips without permission as a means of release, Barry neither objected nor resisted. He thought that given your situation, it must be terrible not to have anyone to kiss.

Sad thoughts about Hal vanished the moment Barry's tongue entered your mouth. Maybe it was just what you needed to forget, since not even he, as your ex's best friend, seemed to care what Hal might think, and even less so did you.

Barry had inevitably thought of Hal. He couldn’t help but remember his friend while his ex-girlfriend’s tongue slid into his mouth and he felt her hips moving until she was straddling his belt. However, he didn’t stop; in fact, the thought that she no longer belonged to him crossed his mind, which only drove him to continue.

It was too late to regret when he felt your hands sliding down his hips, pulling at his clothes. He couldn't resist pushing you onto your back, landing on top of you and pinning your body against the couch.

He kissed you desperately as if you were his last meal, holding you tight with his hands and his tongue on your mouth, exploring every inch of your skin that was still hidden under the fabric he hastily removed.

Even as he slid his fingers aside your underwear, without removing it completely, to enjoy caressing your wet crotch, he smiled. He knew he had what he so desperately wanted, like a whimsical child with his new toy.

"Did Hal miss out on all this? Too bad for him that now I have to take care of this tight pussy." He whispered in your ear with a grin, licking his fingers gently so you could hear the obscene sound close up.

And finally, when he got inside you so deeply that tears welled up in your eyes at the intrusion, you felt completely convinced that you had done the right thing by breaking up with Hal, something that Barry also agreed with. You smiled at the thought that he had taken advantage of the situation and looked at him, convinced that he had orchestrated the whole thing for his own benefit.

"Don't look at me like that, honey. It's not my fault that Hal missed how deliciously tight your pussy feels. . ."

#dc comics #dc universe #smut #the flash #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x fem!reader #barry allen x y/n #barry allen smut #hal jordan x fem!reader #hal jordan x reader

235 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 9 months ago

Text

|| [AS!reader Masterlist]

|| warnings: as!reader, semi reader-centric from Az's viewpoint, more detail to pre-Cauldron meeting, protective Nesta, mentions of previous pieces to this series, little touch of angst, fluff, starfall!fic, mating bond, suggestive, nsfw: piv, unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), soft sex, fingering]

The first time Azriel meets you, you're human. Painfully mortal but beautiful, even for the wary way you watch him from beside your sisters.

He thinks you may orbit closer to how Elain views it all, frightened rather than combative, no teeth on display like Nesta. But you do not shy away, nor do you lash out ㅡ you simply watch. You don't speak, but the protective shift of Nesta, other side of your fair coin, says enough.

He hears you for the first time, however, before they depart. You stand a few feet away, watching him before your lips part.

"For what it's worth," you tell him, "Feyre looks happier now. Happier than she ever was with us." You pause. "I'm glad."

The second time that Azriel sees you, it's as you're being thrown into the Cauldron. You fight much like your sisters, but you still go under ㅡ and reemerge as something you'd never wanted to be.

And just like that, you're launched into Azriel's life with all the force and grace of a shooting star.

"Guess what?"

From the way Cassian is grinning at him, Azriel isn't sure that he wants to know. There are a thousand reasons for him to be looking like that, all amused mischief as his eyes gleam.

"What," he says, weary as Cassian throws an arm around his shoulders.

"Mor told [Name] about how Starfall is coming up," his brother says and while his tone is conversational, there's smug edge to it that makes Azriel want to punch him.

"And?" He prompts, pulling free of Cassian's grip to avoid giving into that temptation.

"Come on," Cassian goads, "it'd be the perfect time to tell her about the mating bond." When Azriel tenses, Cassian gives him a look. "Everyone knows, Az. We can all tell."

The Illyrian doesn't blush outright, but color blooms a little on his cheeks as he counters roughly, "Everyone but [Name]."

Cassian's smile dims. "Well, yeah. But if you told herㅡ"

"No." Azriel's tone is quiet but sharp. "I won't do that to her." He won't force you, refuses to. You've already had so much taken from you, decided for you ㅡ he won't be the one to add more.

He's content with what he has with you now, truly ㅡ even though there have been several instances this last week alone where he's wanted to do nothing but kiss you.

He's waited this long, after all ㅡ what's a little more?

Despite being your twin, it isn't often that Nesta indulges in anything particularly affectionate with you ㅡ so when she offers to braid your hair for Starfall, you accept.

Sitting down in the chair before the vanity in your room, you watch her pluck your brush from the counter before you speak.

"Hey, Nes?" You wait for her soft sound of acknowledgement. "You and Cassian are mates, right? Like Feyre and Rhysand?"

"Yes," she answers slowly, watching you in the mirror ㅡ trying to figure out what you're trying to get at as she sets the brush down and begins finger combing through your hair. "Why?"

Your gaze drops from hers to your fingers, brow furrowing in thought about how to tread forward. "...What...what did the bond feel like?"

Her fingers still in your hair for a moment, and you can feel her gaze on you. Weighing, assessing ㅡ wondering why you're asking. Your gaze doesn't leave your hands. The fingers through your hair resume, sectioning it out.

"I don't know how to put it," she says quietly, quieter than you've ever seen your sister be as she begins plaiting your hair. You lapse into silence, watching her. For all her sharp edges, she's just as beautiful as she's always been ㅡ and you understand why Cassian loves her as fiercely as he does.

She sweeps the braid off your neck, winds it into an elaborate halo the same shade as her own ㅡ pinned into place by a handful of pearl-head pins.

"Like coming home," Nesta finally says, and your eyes lock. "It felt like coming home."

In the countless centuries that he's been alive, Azriel genuinely doesn't think he's ever seen anything as beautiful as you are.

You turn as he approaches, and he forgets how to breathe for a second, heart stuttering in his chest. Silhouetted against the night sky, your dress shimmers like liquid starlight ㅡ but his eyes flick to your earrings, the necklace that rests against your collarbone. Both are deep blue ㅡ the same shade as his siphons, his Starfall gift to you.

He tries not to read into it, even for the way it sends his heart beating faster at the idea of the subtle claim to you.

"There you are," you say as he approaches, "I was waiting for you."

"I was looking for you," he counters, smile tugging at his lips as you answer with your own, and when he reaches the railing of the balcony, you slip to stand beside him. "Not one for parties?"

"Not really," you admit. It'd taken a hearty glass of wine from Mor to keep you from changing your mind and hiding in your room ㅡ and even now, the slow sweep of Azriel's eyes over you makes nerves buzz beneath your skin.

Turning away for a moment, you pluck the neatly wrapped parcel from beside you and present it to him, trying to keep your voice steady. "This is for you."

Azriel blinks and then reaches to take it from you, paper crinkling beneath his fingers. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you say, trying not to think of the other parcel still on your bed, neatly tied with a bow. Instead, you busy yourself with watching as Azriel tugs the paper free carefully, popping the box open.

It's a sheath. Made of dark to match his fighting leathers, polished metal clasps wink dully in the light, and words are tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"It's for Truth-teller," you say, resisting the urge to wring your hands, "I saw some like it at a shop and went in to ask if it'd be possible to make one custom."

Hope sparks in Azriel's veins, sings at the fact you had it made especially for him. "It's beautiful," he murmurs. "Thank-you."

Relief floods you, but you're not done yet. You exhale softly, steeling yourself. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

Azriel stills.

"I'm still adjusting to all of...this," you say, gesturing vaguely, "but it's been easier for me, because of you. I appreciate what you've done for me. And I ㅡ I'm not sure if I really understand the whole concept of mates, but.." You can feel his attention on you, unfaltering as you force yourself to meet his eyes. "You make me feel safe in ways nobody else has, and I ㅡ I love you, Azriel."

Azriel stares at you. And for one horrifyingly too-still moment, you think he's going to reject you. That you're wrong, that the pull you've felt has been all you ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

His hands, scarred and just as beautiful as the rest of him, cup your face gently as you lean into him with wordlessly eager curl of your own fingers into his shirt.

Idly, Azriel notes that the stars have begun their yearly descent, but neither it nor the sweet strains of music matter when your lips are so soft against his.

"We are," he murmurs against your mouth when he finally convinces himself to pull away, wiping at the tears that slip from your eyes. "Mates. I've known for a while."

You blink up at him. "How long have you known?"

He thumbs at the soft plush of your cheek. "Since that first time I took you for a flight at night."

Your lips tremble. "Oh," you say. "Oh."

And then you're crying again, and Azriel is all too happy to kiss every single tear away.

If he died right now, he'd die content.

You're against him in the way he's only allowed himself to dream about, face tucked into his neck and breathing steady, heartbeat a perfect match for his.

Gone is your dress, draped against a chair in your room, swapped for the comfort of a sweater of his, black material that drapes to your mid thigh and wreaths you in his scent. The earrings and necklace have stayed, and he'd be lying if he said it doesn't feed into that instinctive, territorial need.

"Still have something for you," you mumble, half-asleep lilt to your tone that makes him squeeze you to him tighter before he relents, letting you pull away from him.

"You're going to spoil me," he says, and you huff a soft laugh.

"Maybe you deserve to be," you answer with a gentle tug to that bond, one that he answers in kind. You return with a small box, presenting it to him with the glimmer of starlight in your eyes as he sits up.

The ribbon wound around it is also blue, a touch that makes his lips quirk before he's opening it. Nestled in the middle is a tiny tart of flaky crust and mixed berries, sugar sprinkled carefully over it.

"I was told that I had to offer you food to show that I accepted the bond," you say, quiet as you watch him pull the tart from the box. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks?"

Azriel blinks. "You made this?"

You nod. "Before everything," you say, voice quiet, "when we were still...I used to sneak down to the kitchen and watch the cooks."

Azriel brings the tart to his lips. It's sweet, the crust crisp ㅡ but more than that, he lives for the way your eyes light up, the happiness that vibrates down the bond and magnifies his own.

He swears he'll do whatever he has to in order to keep seeing that beautiful smile of yours.

"Come here," he murmurs, opens his arms for you as you crawl back onto the bed to fold yourself back against him ㅡ and then his fingers are under your chin, tilting your head up for a kiss.

Kissing Azriel is something that you're absolutely certain that you'll never get tired of. The kiss deepens, and he tastes of berries and sugar, making your head spin more than wine ever has.

The creep of his fingertips against your bare legs makes you shiver and press into him, soft noise leaving your lips. Azriel's hands curl against your legs for a moment before he's kissing you harder, a little rougher ㅡ and then he's turning, pressing you into your bed as his mouth leaves yours.

The work of his teeth against your pulse makes you jolt with a soft moan, and you're squirming by the time he pulls away to look at his handiwork, pupils almost engulfing his iris. "Beautiful," he rasps, and you reach to pull him back against you.

Your fingers slip beneath his shirt to span against toned muscle and warm skin, delighting in every twitch and shiver you get as you explore.

There are slots in it to allow his wings, and you slip your hands free so that he can remove his shirt before you're touching him again. Your fingers trace the dark whorls of ink over his shoulders, following the delicate curls until he's pinning your arms above your head.

"If you keep touching me like that," he tells you, "I'm going to lose my mind."

Slotted between your legs, you can feel the hard press of him against your inner thigh, and he groans when you arch into him.

One hand keeps your wrists above your head as the other shoves the material of his sweater up, pulling until he's tossing it over the edge of the bed.

The soft sound he gets when he palms at your breast makes him wonder if he can come from just your noises alone ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your ribs, kissing against your navel and then back up to your lips.

The kiss is deceptively sweet for how he pairs it with the slip of his hand between your legs, groaning at the abundant arousal that wets his fingers.

A choked moan leaves your lips as he slides a finger into you, the pulsing clamp of your walls around the intrusion as your brow knits, hips jerking against the exploratory thrust of his digit, soon joined by a second.

You pant as he works you open, the curl and spread of Azriel's fingers making you writhe as pleasure pools in your lower belly.

Azriel doesn't miss a thing, taking in every little twitch of your body, the sounds that you make ㅡ committing it all to memory. It's all far better than what he'd imagined, and his name has never sounded better than when it spills from your lips as you tighten around his fingers.

He eases you through the pleasure that sweeps over you, murmuring such soft praise into your skin that your chest aches. His fingers slip out of you, your whine of protest cut short by the way he kisses you soundly.

There's the gentle coax of your legs to part them a little further ㅡ and then he's bare against you, nudging at your slick folds before he sinks into you.

Light sparks at your fingertips, calmed by the slot of Azriel's fingers between yours, pushing them down into the bed beside your head as his hips roll against yours.

Azriel takes his time with you. He keeps his pace steady and languid, the creak of the bed beneath you and your shared moans a quiet symphony he wants to hear for eternity.

Your pleasure crests a second time with the warmth of his mouth at your breast and this time you take him with you, the hot spill of him making you whine his name ever so sweetly.

He takes you two more times after that, finishing with you splayed out over him, your backdrop the night sky beyond your window as you put all the stars to shame.

#ㅡmine.#acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader #i'm going to bed now i'm tired

519 notes · View notes