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queenshelby · 2 months ago

Text

His Property (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Warning: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Forced Submission, Humiliation, Age Gap

Summary:

You are an innocent young woman sold by your father to Thomas Shelby in exchange for clearing his debt. Thomas views you as his possession, believing he can treat you however he wishes.

Please comment and engage to let me know what you think!

The limousine purrs to a stop in front of Arrow House, and your heart pounds against your ribcage like a trapped creature yearning to escape. You gaze up at the imposing mansion, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. You find yourself gazing at the towering structure that looms as a sentinel over the sweeping lawns and manicured gardens, its cold stone walls as forbidding as the ice-blue eyes of its owner.

Your father sits beside you, his grip on your arm firm and unrelenting.

His face is a mask of grim determination, eyes fixed on the mansion as if it were a monster he's about to feed.

"This is it," he says, his voice as harsh as gravel. "Your new home."

Home. The word sends a shiver down your spine. You have no choice but to follow him out of the car, your heels sinking into the dewy grass. As you approach the grand entrance, the heavy oak door creaks open, revealing a man in a crisp black suit. His sharp features and piercing blue eyes leave no doubt who he is. Thomas Shelby.

The mere mention of his name sends a shiver down your spine. He stands in the doorway, his eyes raking over you like a physical touch. You feel your cheeks flush under his scrutiny.

"Y/N," he says, your name rolling off his tongue like a dark promise. He steps aside, allowing you to enter the grand foyer. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars and something darker, more primal.

Your father clears his throat, his eyes darting nervously between you and Thomas. "Y/N, this is Mr. Shelby. He's...

taken care of our debt." His words hang heavy in the air, a finality that makes your stomach churn. Thomas nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he assesses you, from top to bottom, as if you were prey.

"Yes, your father and I have come to an arrangement," he says, his voice as smooth as velvet but with an underlying edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your father shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you and Thomas before he nods, a grimace on his face. "I trust you'll take good care of her," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas merely smiles, a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends a jolt of fear coursing through you. "Oh, I intend to," he says, his eyes locked onto yours.

He turns to your father, his voice cold and dismissive. "You may go. I'll send for you when our business is concluded."

Your father nods, his eyes flickering between you and Thomas before he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with the man who now owns you.

Thomas closes the door, his footsteps echoing in the grand foyer as he approaches you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the power he exudes like a palpable force. He stops in front of you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but flinch at the contact. He chuckles low, a sound that rumbles like thunder in his chest.

"You're frightened," he observes, his voice a low growl.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You know what's expected of you, what your father has sold you for. But the reality of it is unlike anything you've ever imagined.

"Will...will you hurt me?" The words escape your lips before you can stop them, a mixture of fear and defiance in your voice.

Thomas's eyes flash with amusement, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"Only if you want me to," he whispers, his voice a low, seductive growl.

He steps back, his eyes scanning your body again, lingering on your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"I don't want you to, sir," you reply, your voice barely a whisper, but it's enough for him.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he reaches out, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb. "We will see," he says softly.

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, confused and slightly relieved but, before you know it, one of his maids appears, her eyes cast downwards as she speaks.

"Let's get you settled in dear. I understand you have had a long

journey," the maid says, her voice soft and soothing like warm honey. She guides you through the grand house, your footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. The opulence of Arrow House is starkly apparent; crystal chandeliers drip from the high ceilings, casting prisms of light that dance on the walls, and paintings of landscapes and still lives adorn the walls, each one more expensive looking than the last.

You are led down a long corridor, the air growing colder as you move further away from the main entrance. The maid stops in front of a heavy wooden door, her hand on the brass handle.

"This will be your room," she says, pushing the door open. You step inside, your eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. The room is large, with a four-poster bed draped in velvet curtains, a fireplace with a roaring fire, and a chaise lounge positioned in front of the window. It's luxurious, but the air is thick with an undercurrent of darkness, a subtle reminder of Thomas's presence.

"Is there anything you need, dear?" the maid asks, her eyes scanning your face. You shake your head, your mind racing with a million thoughts but your mouth unable to form the words.

The maid smiles softly, her eyes kind. "You'll be alright, dear," she then says as she turns to leave, but you call out to her.

"Wait," you say, and she pauses, turning back to face you.

"What exactly does he... want from me?" The question tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it, a heavy weight settling in your stomach as you await her response.

The maid's expression softens, and she steps back into the room, closing the door behind her.

She walks over to the chaise lounge and sits down, patting the space next to her. "Come, sit," she says gently. You hesitate for a moment before moving to sit next to her.

"Mr. Shelby, he's... complex," she begins, her voice low and careful. "He likes things to be... just so. And he likes to be in control." She pauses, choosing her words with care. "He'll expect you to be obedient, to meet his needs, and to do so without question."

You swallow hard, the reality of your situation settling like a weight in the pit of your stomach. Your older sister had only just explained the concept of intimacy to you after you had been brought up strictly catholic, and the thought of experiencing it so suddenly and with such a man was terrifying.

"But what if I don't want to do the things he asks?" your voice barely a whisper, but your heart pounded in your chest like a drum, afraid of the answer.

The maid's eyes were kind, and she reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I am afraid you do not have a choice, dear. Not now. But in time, you may find that you want to please him. Many have before you."

"But if I do not like what he does to me?" you ask, your voice quivering slightly, the reality of your new life crashing down on you like a wave.

The maid's expression turns softer, and she squeezes your shoulder gently again. 'You will learn to like it, dear, or at least to tolerate it. Mr. Shelby has a way of... making people see things his way.'

Your heart sinks, and you feel a lump form in your throat. You want to ask more, to understand what exactly he expects from you, but the maid's shoulders tense, and she glances at the door.

'I should go,' she says, standing up. 'We'll meet again though, and I'll help you as much as I can, but for now, you should wash up and get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day.'

You nod, a sense of resignation washing over you as she leaves. Alone in the room, you let the weight of your situation sink in. Your breath hitches as you think about what lies ahead, your mind racing with questions and fears.

An hour later, a soft knock at the door startles you. You hesitate for a moment before calling out, 'Come in.'

The door creaks open, revealing a young man, around your age, with shaggy brown hair and kind brown eyes. He's dressed in a simple but well-made suit, his demeanour friendly and unassuming.

He smiles at you, and you can't help but feel a small shiver of relief at the sight of someone close to your own age.

"Hey, I'm Lucas," he says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "I'm one of the housekeeper's son and I help out around here sometimes."

You offer him a small smile, your shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm Y/N," you say, standing up from the chaise lounge. "Nice to meet you."

Finn nods, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you. "I heard you were coming," he says, his voice casual.

"Thought I'd come say hi, make you feel a bit more at home."

You appreciate the gesture, even if the words 'at home' still feel foreign on your tongue. "Thanks," you say, offering him a small smile. "I could use a friendly face around here."

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, Arrow House can be a bit... intimidating at first. But don't worry, you'll get used to it."

You sit back down on the chaise lounge, and he takes a seat on the armchair across from you.

The room feels less daunting with his presence, and you find yourself relaxing slightly.

"So, what's it like here? I mean, living in Arrow House," you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

Lucas leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "It's different, that's for sure. It's like living in a castle, you know? But I know it will be different for you. I mean, I know why you are here and I am... I am not in the same situation as you," Lucas says before he pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how much to say.

A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of your situation. "I don't want to be here," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lucas's expression softens, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I know," he says. "But try to make the best of it," he tells you.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat at his kindness.

"I'll try," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Lucas smiles warmly; his eyes filled with genuine concern. "Good," he said simply, resting his hand on yours in a friendly manner.

His words are comforting, but the weight of your new life is a constant reminder, pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. You force a smile, grateful for his presence.

"Thank you, Lucas," you say, and he grins, standing up and holding out his hand.

"Come on, let's go for a walk in the gardens.

Fresh air might do you some good," Lucas suggests, his hand still outstretched. You take it, grateful for the offer of escape, no matter how temporary.

As you walk through the grand house, you can't help but feel like a prisoner in a gilded cage. The opulence is overwhelming, a stark contrast to the simplicity of your childhood home. Lucas guides you through the sprawling gardens, the scents of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass filling the air. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

"So, what's your story, Lucas?

How long have you been here?" You ask, trying to focus on anything but the heavy weight of your new reality.

Lucas shrugs, his hands tucked into his pockets as he walks beside you. "Not long. A few months. My mom got a job here, and I help out around the place. It's not so bad, really. The people are nice enough."

You nod, your eyes scanning the gardens. "What about you? Where are you from?" He asks, his voice casual.

You hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. "Small town. Nowhere special," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I grew up catholic. My father had a big gambling debt, and now I'm here," you say, your voice tight. Lucas glances at you, his expression sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. That really sucks," he says, his voice genuine. "But listen, you're young, you're smart, and you're tough. You'll figure this out."

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Tough? I'm terrified, Lucas. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what he expects from me."

Lucas's expression softens, and he reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. Just know that you are not alone. I'll be here to help, alright? And I'm sure some of the other staff will be too. We're not all bad here, you know."

You nod, appreciating his words even if they don't completely ease your fears. "Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it."

He smiles, his hand dropping to his side as he looked up, noticing Thomas Shelby 's silhouette in one of the grand windows.

You follow his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Thomas's imposing figure. He stares back at you, his expression unreadable, before he turns and walks away.

"I should go," Lucas says, his voice barely above a whisper. "He doesn't like me talking to the... new acquisitions."

You frown, a chill running down your spine at his choice of words. "Why?"

Lucas shrugs, his expression grim.

"He just doesn't. Trust me, it's better if I go. I'll see you around, alright?" he says, squeezing your arm once more before turning and walking away, leaving you alone in the garden.

You watch him go, a sense of unease washing over you as Thomas's shadow looms large again in the window.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. You can't run, and you can't hide. You have to face this head-on.

You make your way back to Arrow House, your footsteps echoing in the grand foyer as you enter.

The house is quiet, the staff moving silently through the halls, their eyes cast downwards as they pass you. The air is thick with an undercurrent of tension, a subtle reminder of Thomas Shelby's presence.

As you climb the grand staircase, you can't help but feel like a mouse in a maze, each step bringing you closer to the lion's den. You reach your room, the heavy wooden door looming in front of you like a barrier between you and the reality of your situation.

You take a deep breath, your hand trembling slightly as you reach for the handle of the door leading to your bedroom just as one of the maids approached you from behind.

"Here you are," she says softly. "Mr. Shelby wants to see you, in his study," the maid says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath hitches as you nod, your fingers fumbling with the door handle.

"Come, dear. We don't want to keep him waiting," the maid says, her voice a soft nudge, but there's an undercurrent of impatience that brooks no argument.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest as you follow her down the wide, marble-floored hallway. The air grows colder, the scent of expensive cigars and something darker, more primal, clinging to the air.

The maid stops in front of a heavy oak door, her hand reaching out to knock softly. "Sir, she's here," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaks open, revealing Thomas Shelby standing by the fireplace, his back to you. He's dressed in a dark suit, the material moulding to his frame.

He turns to face you, his piercing blue eyes scanning your body, missing no detail.

He nods at the maid, dismissing her with a minimal wave of his hand. She scurries away, leaving you alone with him.

The room is illuminated by the flickering fire, the shadows dancing on the walls, creating a stark contrast with the opulence of the study. Your heart hammers in your chest like a drum, the air thick with fear.

Thomas stands before you, his eyes locked onto yours, a dark promise written across his sharp features. He takes a step closer, the smell of expensive cologne enveloping you.

"You look nervous, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch causing you to flinch away.

His eyes darken at your reaction, and he takes a step closer, crowding your space.

"You're going to have to get used to my touch, Love," he says, the words a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you take a step back, only to find yourself pressed up against the wall. You can feel the cold stone against your back, the rough texture a stark contrast to the smoothness of his skin.

Thomas takes advantage of your lack of space, his hand coming up to cup your chin, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"Open for me. Let me taste you." His voice is a command, his eyes burning into yours as he waits for your response.

You hesitate, your breathing coming in short gasps, the fear warring within you. Thomas's grip tightens slightly, his thumb pressing harder against your lip. "Now," he growls, the warning clear in his voice.

With trembling fingers, you part your lips, allowing him access. His eyes darken as he leans in, his mouth capturing yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. His tongue plunges in, exploring, dominating, leaving no part of your mouth untouched.

You gasp, your body stiffening at the sudden invasion, but Thomas doesn't miss a beat. He pins you to the wall as his mouth ravages yours. He tastes like whiskey and sin, and the fear in your chest begins to raise.

Thomas tears his mouth away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes are wild, hungry, as they rake over your body. "You taste like innocence, like a fucking virgin," he growls, his voice a low and primal.

"Please," you whisper, your voice shaking. "I don't want to do this."

Thomas smirks, his eyes burning with hunger, and presses his body flush against yours. "You don't have a choice. You're mine now and I paid good fucking money for you."

He captures your mouth again, swallowing your whimpers as his hands roam over your body.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, unable to escape or fight as his hands trail down your waist. He slips his fingers under your skirt, hooking them into the waistband of your panties and you tremble as he pulls them down.

They pool at your feet and a tear slips down your cheek.

Thomas smirks, his lips brushing against yours. "Sshh, it's alright Love," he whispers as his fingers first made contact with your most intimate part. "I am just getting to know what's mine."

His voice is like velvet over iron as he lets his fingers run over your still dry and untouched folds.

You can't bring yourself to respond, your mind a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. Thomas doesn't seem to mind, his fingers exploring you, sliding against your opening, making you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation.

He then pushes a finger inside you, the intrusion causing you to cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Oh Sweetheart," he growls against your neck, "You're so fucking tight."

He begins to pump his finger in and out of you, the motion rough and urgent, causing you to gasp and whimper.

"Sshh, Love," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I know it hurts, but I need you to relax and take it. You'll feel better once you get used to it."

You try to do as he says, but the sensation is overwhelming and foreign. You can feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps.

You try to press your legs together, to close yourself off from him, but Thomas's free hand pushes your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

"Open up for me, Love," he snarls, the command in his voice leaving no room for argument as, suddenly, you felt something else when he used his thumb to rub your clit, slowly circling it with the pressure of his rough thumb.

The sensation is both foreign and slightly pleasurable, sending a jolt of confusion through you.

Thomas notices your reaction, a dark smile spreading across his face.

"No, please," you plead, your voice trembling as you try to push his hand away, but this time for different reasons. The sensation was too overwhelming for you.

You can't help but let out a small moan as Thomas's thumb continues to circle your clit. He watches you closely, his eyes dark with lust and pleasure at your reaction.

"That's it, Love," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. "Let me hear you. I want to hear you scream for me."

His finger inside you continues to move, pumping in and out, painfully, but the pressure on your clit made you feel pleasure at the same time, confusing you as you tried to wiggle away from him.

"Please stop,” you whimper, but he just chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Shh, just let go for me," he growls, his thrusts becoming faster, more urgent. You can feel the wetness building between your legs, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your breath comes in short gasps, your body tensing as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"I... I can't," you stammer, your body shaking with the effort of holding back. Thomas leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and moist.

"Come on, Love, you're almost there. Let go. Give in to it," he says as he increases the pressure on your clit, his thumb circling faster, sending electric jolts through your body.

"Please. No. I need to...you need to stop!" you cry out as you can't hold back anymore and your body convulses, and you let out a scream that echoes through the study.

"That's a good girl," Thomas grins, his eyes locked onto yours, watching you come undone under his touch. He continues to pump his finger in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure until you're a panting mess against the wall.

He finally slows down, his finger sliding out of you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed.

You're panting, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your unexpected orgasm.

Thomas grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and lust as he smeared his blood-streaked finger over your cleavage, leaving a trail of your own wetness across your skin.

"There you go Sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked but you couldn't help but feel a chill run down your spine at his words.

His fingers were still paint streaked from your wetness and virginity and he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. You felt a mixture of revulsion and shame at the sight, but also a strange kind of arousal you couldn't quite understand.

"Now, why don't you drop down to your knees for me, eh?" Thomas's voice is a low rumble, like distant thunder, as he steps back and begins to unbuckle his belt.

You hesitate for a moment, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of the orgasm he forced from you. But his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, burn into yours, and you know better than to disobey.

Slowly, you sink to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest like a trapped bird.

Thomas smirks, a slow, wicked curl of his lips as he pushes his pants down, his cock springing free.

He's long and thick, the head already damp with precum. He wraps his fist around the base, giving it a slow stroke.

"Open that pretty little mouth of yours, Sweetheart," he commands, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

You hesitate, your breath coming in short gasps, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You've never done this before, never even thought about it. But Thomas doesn't wait for your consent. He grabs a fistful of your hair, his grip tight and painful as he steps closer.

"Open, now," he growls, his cockhead prodding at your lips.

You hesitate, your lips pressed tightly together, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest as he waits

for you to comply which, hesitantly, you did, slowly parting your lips, just enough to let the tip inside.

"That's a good girl," he praises, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction. "Now take more."

He pushes his hips forward, forcing more of his cock into your mouth, the salty

taste of him filling your senses. You gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You try to pull back, but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place as half of his cock disappears in your mouth, stretching your lips.

"Take it all, Sweetheart," he commands, his voice a low growl. "

You whimper, your tears falling freely now as he begins to move his hips, fucking your mouth in slow, steady thrusts. He grunts with each push forward, his cock growing harder, thicker with each passing moment.

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth, dripping down your chin, and you try to swallow around the intrusion, but it's no use. Your gag reflex kicks in again, and you pull back, gasping for air.

Thomas chuckles, a dark and dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're not very good at this, are you, Love?" he says, his voice thick with lust. He grips your hair tighter, forcing you to look up at him.

His blue eyes are dark with desire, his jaw set in a harsh line. "You're going to take it all, understand?" His voice is a harsh command, leaving no room for argument as he thrusts his hips forward, his cockhead slipping past your lips and forcing its way into your mouth.

You gag again, your eyes watering as he hits the back of your throat.

You try to relax, to open up, but it's hard. His cock is so fucking big, and the taste of him, the smell of him, it's all so overwhelming.

Thomas growls, his grip on your hair tightening even further. "You feel so fucking good Love," he says through gritted teeth, his hips moving faster, fucking your face with more force.

You gag again, your mouth filled with his cock, your eyes watering as you try to breathe through your nose. Your hands grip his thighs, your nails digging into his flesh as you try to pull back, but Thomas holds you firmly in place.

You can feel it throbbing in your mouth, the veins pulsing with his heartbeat. The taste of him is salty and bitter, the scent of his sweat and arousal filling your nostrils. Both nauseating and arousing at the same time. You can't breathe, can't think, as he fucks your face with efficiency.

"Open that throat for me, Love," he groans, his voice ragged with desire. "Take it all, like a good girl."

His words send a jolt of humiliation and arousal through you which, again, was strange and confusing to you. Despite yourself, you feel a twinge of desire, a heat building between your legs.

Thomas groans, a low, animal sound that vibrates through his chest. "Almost there, Love," he says, and you have no idea what he means by that

. You're dizzy, lightheaded from being on your knees for so long with his cock in your mouth. You feel like your jaw is going to dislocate as he thrusts in and out, his cock filling your mouth completely.

He pushes in deeper, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to take him in even further. You try to keep your teeth from grazing him, but it's hard to control anything when you can barely breathe.

Thomas's hips stutter, his cockhead pulsing in your throat, and you are unsure what is going on until he announces his impending climax.

"I am going to cum in your sweet little mouth now and I want you to swallow every last drop of it, eh" he rasps out, his voice thick with lust and excitement.

You panic, your body tensing, still unsure what to expect, but there's no escape as he grips your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts into your mouth one last time, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he releases his load.

You gag in surprise as the hot, salty taste of him fills your mouth, coating your tongue and throat. He groans, his body shuddering as he empties himself into you, his hips jerking with each spurt.

"Swallow it, Love" he growls, his grip on your hair tightening painfully. "Every fucking drop."

You try to pull back, the taste of him overwhelming, but his grip is unyielding. You gag again, his cum and saliva splattering around your lips as you struggle to swallow his release. It is simply too much.

"Good girl," Thomas praises you anyway, his voice still thick with lust.

He pulls out, his cock gleaming with your saliva and his cum. He runs a hand through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. His cum was running down your chin, dripping onto your chest and even on to his shoe, and you can taste the bitter, salty tang of him on your tongue.

Using his finger, he scoops up the cum that had dripped out of your mouth and on to your chin and feeds it to you, forcing you to swallow every last drop. You whimper, your stomach churning at the taste, but you obey, knowing better than to displease him.

"That's it," Thomas praises again, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and lust. He tucks himself back into his pants, his cock only semi-hard now.

You look down at your chest, at his release on your skin, and then at his shiny dress shoes, now with cum splattered on them too. You feel a wave of shame wash over you, your cheeks burning with humiliation.

"I... I’m sorry," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be Love. You did well," he says as you still sat on the plush carpet, your knees aching from the hard floor, your mouth still tasting like him. "But I do need you to clean up the mess you made, eh," he then ads, as if you had been careless, rather than struggling to perform a task you had never done before.

"Yes, sir," you whisper, your voice trembling as you reached up to wipe off the cum from your chest first with your bare hand and Thomas watches you, his expression unreadable.

"Lick it off your hand, go on," he commands, and you hesitate for a moment before bringing your hand to your mouth and licking off his cum, your stomach again.

"That's a good girl,” he says, his voice a low purr. "Now, clean my shoe with your tongue."

You look down at the shiny leather and a wave of humiliation washes over you. But you know better than to disobey, so you lean forward, extending your tongue, and begin to lick the cum off his shoe.

Thomas watches you, his eyes dark with satisfaction. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Lick every last drop."

You continue, your cheeks burning with shame, your mouth tasting like him, feeling like you are nothing more than a slave to his desires.

The taste of him is bitter and salty, a stark reminder of what you are to him, of the role you must play in his life.

As you finish cleaning his shoe, you sit back on your heels, your body shaking with exhaustion and humiliation. Thomas watches you, his eyes roaming your body, assessing you like a piece of art.

Thomas looks down at you, his expression softening. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice gentle. "Now, go clean yourself up and get some rest, eh?" he says, his voice suddenly softer, as he helps you to your feet.

You nod, your body still shaking slightly from the ordeal. He strokes your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, almost comforting.

"You did well tonight, Love. Very well," he praises you once more and, somehow, this made you proud.

You make your way back to your room, your body aching and your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You strip off your clothes, your body still sticky from his seed, and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over you.

You scrub yourself clean, trying to wash away the taste and smell of him, but it lingers, a constant reminder of what just happened.

Your body aches, and your knees are bruised from the hard floor.

You step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a thick, plush robe that hangs on the back of the door but, even despite the humiliation you feel, there is something else that lingers, something that you can't quite put your finger on. A sense of accomplishment perhaps, or maybe it's just the exhaustion that weighs heavily on your body.

You collapse onto the bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief to your tender skin. You pull the covers up, burying yourself in the softness, trying to block out the memories of the night. But sleep eludes you, your mind racing with thoughts of Thomas and the things he made you do.

You toss and turn, the events of the night replaying in your head like a gruesome movie. The way he touched you, the way he tasted, the way he smelled. The way he made you feel. A mix of fear, humiliation, and whatever else this was. Desire or arousal perhaps?

You were confused and conflicted by the mix of emotions swirling within you but, after a little while, you finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep, your dreams haunted by the events of the night.

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namelessgakusei · 1 month ago

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Mada Dame Yo

Mark Grayson x reader

Warnings: Death, violence, use of a gendered term: wife (once)

Notes: Reader is like Homura/Subaru in this case, dying and going back in time whenever Mark becomes a killing machine. Based off my meager knowledge about Invincible. I really need to watch the show.

add. note: I knew I saw a similar idea somewhere and I finally found it again! @tunapestopasta posted an idea like this! Go check it out! :D

Noi! The Clara Dolls! (cont.)

"I dream of the morning. It's not time yet. It's not time yet. What color will the morning be? It's not time yet. It's not time yet. The night is still only half-eaten."

You don't know when it started. When Mark started acting strange. When he got his powers, his personality slowly shifted to a more... sinister one.

Sinister!Mark stood in front of what remains of your city, bloodstained teeth grinning down at your form. You were the only one spared, left to run on your own like a mouse. You were rightfully scared, who wouldn't if your boyfriend suddenly turned on the planet he was supposed to be protecting and ate its residents??

The GDA were no use either, most of them were eaten, if not, too injured to fight anymore. Earth was done for and it's all thanks to this cannibal maniac. His smirk faltered when he saw a small white creature hop to your side.

"Do you want to make a contract with me?"

You woke up in Mark's lap after that. Thinking it's merely a bad dream, you clung to him, eagerly trying to forget what you just witnessed. But this Mark, while chuckling and hugging you back, doesn't sound like your Mark. His voice... is a bit raspier.

You don't notice the ring on your middle finger.

This Mark doesn't possess any powers, but that didn't stopped him from being a daredevil. Since when is Mark so reckless? Sure, he still like Seance Dog and treats you like you're the most precious thing in the world, but...

His eyes look crazed.

It didn't took long for Mohawk!Mark to gain his powers after that. His new found abilities fueled his arrogance, easily creating a rift between him and the GDA. It didn't took long for him to get bored and snap.

Your "dream" repeated itself when he stood in front you, cackling and snaking his arms around your body, the blood from his suit seeping into your clothes. You feel sick. His laughter doesn't sound like the one you grew to love. Maybe he noticed that you were hyperventilating and let you go to inspect what's wrong, but you blacked out after that.

This time, you woke up inside your room. What was that?! Your fingers ghosted over your body, looking for the ghost of blood that Mark's clothes put on you. There's nothing. The world outside your window isn't destroyed. You're safe... You're always safe! Mark... Mark never hurt you!

Mark.

Where's Mark?!

Hastily grabbing your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to look for your boyfriend.

There is no Mark Grayson.

???

Suddenly, a loud crash shook the ground, making you fall face first on the floor. Is that an earthquake? You heard an explosion, is there an attack? You heard nothing for a few minutes, making you slowly get out of your room and out to the yard, but your eyes caught someone's in your backyard.

Those familiar brown eyes bore holes at your shocked form.

Mark?!

You immediately opened the back door and ran to his side. Why is he in a ship? Why did he crash land in your backyard?? Why is he wearing... that?

You don't dare ask about his new suit and just helped him inside your house, fussing over his injuries. But before you can go to get a first aid kit, he caught your arm.

"How do you know my name?"

Viltrumite!Mark was calm. There was a bit of miscalculation when he arrived at Earth but nothing that can jeopardize his mission. He is intrigued by the earthling who knew his name, who looked at him with something he can't decipher. Perhaps he should study humans more before taking action.

At first you thought that he hit his head. That he got alien amnesia or something. But the way he looks at you with such innocence, like he really doesn't know you, breaks your heart. What's going on?

You learn that he wasn't your Mark a few hours after that. He's a Mark who was taken by Nolan after Debbie gave birth to him. Oh. That explains why he doesn't know you, this Mark didn't grew up in Earth. He grew up to be a Viltrumite.

What does that make you? What about you? He's your boyfriend. He was your boyfriend. But he now isn't. He doesn't even know you.

You swallow a sob and made an incredibly foolish decision.

Maybe you could prevent Earth's destruction this time.

All you need to do it guide this Mark to see that it isn't worth it to destroy this planet. That there are many things here worth protecting for. Maybe you'll even arrange a meeting with him and his mom! Debbie's... safe here, right? Probably?

You thought you had everything under control, with him following you around like a puppy, too curious about humanity and how you teach him things. Human culture, food, entertainment, you tried making him invested in your world. He looked so cute when he figure things out and runs to you like a child waiting for praise. The first time you did, he was confused when you touched him so softly. Clearly he's unused to anything aside from the Viltrumite regime.

You thought that this time, no one has to die. Even if it hurts that everything you know isn't what it is now, you chose to ignore it, in lieu of not wanting to remember the previous Marks. You thought that this Mark will be different.

Now you realize that it's a foolish decision on your part. Earth burned, Viltrumites came to conquer, Humanity was almost eradicated, and Mark stands in front of you, with a gentle smile on his face. The same one he practiced with you to not scare other people with his scowl. The same one he wears whenever you two were together.

He kneels down and cups your cheek, a gentle gesture, like you taught him. With bloodshed around you, Mark uttered the words you both love and hate to hear.

"I love you."

You found out that you can manipulate time to an extent by the fourth Mark. This one, like Mohawk!Mark, has a few screw looses. NoGoggles/Lensless!Mark is a damn sadomasochist. He brings you up in the sky purely to see you cling to him in fear, he purposely tortures you for a reaction, and when you fight back? Oh, he's over the moon! He's begging for more, all while clinging to your leg.

He was about to kill the entirety of the GDA when you accidentally stopped time, allowing the others to escape. You don't know if it's fear of seeing your friends die again, but suddenly, your clothes changed, a small shield appeared on your arm with a gemstone on the back of your hand. Cecil didn't let you go by then, having you support the team while they fight back against Mark. Your abilities don't last forever, so they're on a time limit. But it seems like no matter what they do, they just can't seem to kill him.

He accidentally killed you when your ability ran out and time continued, you don't remember if you died from his punches or from the car that was thrown at your direction.

By the fifth Mark, you were so sick of it. You want your life back. You want your Mark back. Not the one who looks like his dad and demands that you become his wife. Omni!Mark pursued you relentlessly when you fought back with your powers. Stopping time to steal firearms, you found that you could also store items inside your shield. This could do, you'll help the GDA fight off this bastard who wears the face of your beloved.

You ended up in his arms not long after. Not in a loving embrace, he's literally squeezing the life out of you as he spats about you being ungrateful.

Your life ended with him as the last thing you saw.

The cycle continued for so long that you became desensitized. You wake up, Mark's there, Mark becomes an enemy, You fight back, you die and then you wake up again. You've seen so many variations of him, both the reasonable and unreasonable ones. Some of them were reluctant to conquer Earth, only doing it because it's too much to fight off the Viltrumite Empire. Some of them joined you in the rebellion. Some of them outright killed you for not seeing their ways.

Each and everytime, you wake up in his arms.

This version is no different. You opened your eyes and you're in Mark's room. Some of his versions doesn't even have one. Seance Dog posters are on the walls, the comic books were on his table, his bed smells like the faint memory of your original Mark.

You don't even remember him anymore.

This world's Mark is sure to be the same as the others. The harbinger of destruction. Those with eyes who look at you with so much love that it makes you sick.

The door opens and Mainstream!Mark smiles at you.

#invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible variants #alternate mark grayson x reader #alternate mark grayson #gaku's works!

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toshn · 2 months ago

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showing mark weird tiktoks :P this is really just pure brainrot i can’t takr it anymore it’s all over my fyp 💔🥀gn!reader i rhink and hero reader!! not proofread!!

it was 11:27 pm. you were doing your usual—doomscrolling on tiktok in bed while laying in mark’s arms after beating the shit out of criminals the entire day. it was the only time where you were able to just lay down and do nothing. if you weren’t born with powers, you would have definitely chose to rot in bed all day eating frosted flakes in the same pajamas you wore the previous day as opposed to working your butt off to fight crime. one could only dream

you’re new latest obsessions, of which mark was graciously subjected to never hearing the end of, was those weird ai generated photos of animals mutated with random things and the cute little japanese mouse-like creature—chiikawa. if you weren’t mouthing off about something a weird half-jet plane half-crocodile said, you’d be crying about how cute chiikawa is. or whoever ‘gluttonous king usagi’ is, as mark would say.

“mark. our streak mark. mark our streaks.” you mumbled with your cheek pressed against his chest, eyes still glued onto the screen in your hands.

“why do you keep sending me this rat in a suit who killed john pork? why is his wife having an affair with a pig?”

you giggled, laughing at the silliness of what came out of your boyfriend’s mouth. “tim cheese was a controlling piece of shit. he doesn’t deserve tina! she should’ve left him a long time ago!”

“and he didn’t have to kill john pork…” mark grumbled, scrolling further up to watch the other tiktoks you sent him. making sure to answer each one and keep your streak alive—or he won’t be hearing the end of it.

you rolled away from his grasp to instead press your stomach against him, your face inches away from his. “yeah! he was totally jealous of john pork. i’ll send you another tiktok so you’ll be able to educate yourself better about the ‘tim-cheese-john-pork saga.” you exclaimed, laying your cheek against him once more. the rumbling of his chest that came from his laugh making your heart swell with how soothing it sounded.

mark was really enjoying hearing you ramble about things he doesn’t even understand. hell, he was a geek himself. but if someone were to put you and him in the same room? (please do) it’s a different story. sometimes he doesn’t even get half of what you’re saying because he can’t catch up with internet humor nowadays—not that he has the time to do so. he patiently waited for you to find the video you were looking for, briefly looking at his own phone before he felt you perk up.

“here look! he betrayed john pork! i kinda feel like pengu is in on it… just- just watch the whole thing!”

and he indeed, watch the whole thing. his face was a flurry of emotions the entire time. he was frowning, furrowing his eyebrows, for a second you thought he was gonna throw hands himself. mark was clearly invested.

“i’m so scared for my life right now. what if i actually am next?”

you let out a hearty laughter, rolling away from mark and onto your back. he had the same reaction as you did the first time you watched the tim cheese lore video. and he even had the same look on his face when tim shot john pork’s head off clean.

“baby this is no laughing matter. who even made this? what beef do they have with john pork? i mean he clearly had pork you know.”

you continued on laughing, the absurdity of the entire conversation further fueling the fire and mark was suppressing his own laughter, determined to be the mature one between the two of you. mark shook his head. dismissing the tiktok that was still playing in the background as he watched you cradle your heaving chest while quiet giggles continued on under your breath.

“alright.” you deadpanned, “it’s no longer funny. i’m over it.” you sat upright, a faux stoic expression on your face and you looked mark right in the eyes— slowly getting back into the position you were once in.

mark shook his head in agreement, placing a hand on your back and rubbing circles on the area as he lifted his phone again to open tiktok. his attention still subtly on you. “yeah, you’re right.” he remarked.

“but what if… pengu actually framed tim cheese and he killed john pork? food for thought, (y/n). food for thought.”

masterlist.

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader

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winterarmyy · 5 months ago

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Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth.

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass.

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds.

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her.

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor.

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience.

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin.

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time.

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

#sydneysfluffywinter #fluff star winter event #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

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catsteeth · 7 months ago

Text

Cold Steel Hot Skin

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader

+:✿ Request ✿:+ : part 2 - part 3

Request: “Jacaerys and FemStark!Reader have been betrothed during the whole war. Team Black wins the war and Rhaenyra is crowned queen. After Jace and the Reader are married, the night is filled with celebration. Reader pulls Jace away and gives him head while he's sitting on the throne. Sub!Jace with lots of praise and reassurance.” CW: MDNI, SMUT, oral sex (m rec), afab reader, arranged marriage, NSFW themes, misogyny, mention of death, praise, sub jace, dom reader, mention of parental death.

Word Count: 5k

You were prepared to marry a high-born son, you were prepared for it all your life. You were taught how to make a man happy. Watch your tongue, speak little, and never your mind. Do whatever your husband commands of you, give no resistance. Smile and stay amenable. Only you were not your mother's idea of a perfect wife by nature.

No, you were raised alongside your brothers. You favored horse riding to sewing, archery to singing, and hunting to practicing your courtesies.

However as the threat of war drew closer, the need for the North’s strength grew more desperate. The house of the dragon did not know whose head ruled it. Aegon the drunken prince or Rhaenyra the king's firstborn. Both the greens and the blacks came to your brother, Cregan Stark who now ruled as warden of the north. They wanted the North's strength to earn their power.

Cregan only bent his knee to Rhaenyra after he spoke with Prince Jacaerys. The men were similar in age and he felt the Prince would be better suited to the throne than his uncle.

Though armies and power are not handed to anyone for free, in return for the North’s support, Cregan asked that his sisters be considered for one of the Queen's sons to wed, or perhaps one of his brothers for one of her nieces.

You hoped desperately that you would be spared from this fate. You never had any interest in men or marriage. Your septa’s always told you to obey your husband. That if you didn’t perhaps he would hit you, or take you by force. Honestly, you feared a husband, they sounded like horrid creatures.

It took time to hear back, but soon a raven arrived. It said what you feared it might. The crowned prince himself would take the north’s eldest daughter to wed.

You practiced holding your tongue and putting on a smile. You found it easy not to speak, speaking would do you no good anyway. But forcing a smile was a difficulty.

You fidgeted with the beaded embellishments of the embroidery on your dress. Biting your cheek you stood by the door of your house's great hall. Listening to your brother and the prince speaking. “My prince, my sister Lady Stark.”

You looked at the prince cautiously. Though he was not as frightful as you thought he might be. He was quite handsome. But that did not mean he was kind. You curtseyed as you were taught to do hundreds of times. “I hope I do not disappoint you, my prince.” You spoke in a higher and softer tone than you did naturally.

Jace took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “You could never, my Lady.”

He seemed gentle, and kind.

Your fears did not rest, however. He was kind in front of you brother, a large and imposing man. That did not mean he would be kind when away from peering eyes.

The ride in the carriage felt uncomfortable. You were frightened by him in honesty. You knew that you would wed a high-born man but never did you think you’d marry a prince, and never did you think you would become a queen.

You were unsure of him, unsure of what he was like. Would he hit you? Would he yell? He was to be the king, surely he could do whatever he liked.

Your unease only worsened when your eyes fell back onto him, noticing that he was still looking at you.

As soon as he noticed your uneasy gaze, he smiled to himself and looked down “I apologize I am staring.” he said shaking his head.

You shrugged, “That’s alright. I am to be yours by law, you may stare at me if you wish to.” You were trained for this moment, this was your first willing submission.

Jace’s eyes looked up at you, his gaze narrowed at you in confusion, “I do not own you, my Lady.” He leaned forward towards you, “If I do something to displease you I wish to know.”

You felt surprised, not only was this man willing for you to be your own person but he encouraged it. He wanted you to be a participant in his life and this marriage.

You took a breath, then dropped your doe-like expression. Replacing it with your natural stern demeanor, common in the North. “Why are you staring at me?” You asked plainly now in your natural tone. It made Jace smile. “If I do truly disappoint I have other sisters-”

“You do not. I did not lie.” Jace interrupted you, it almost made you flinch. Perhaps you were too bold with your words. Though his eyes softened towards you, letting you relax in the warmth of his gaze. “I do not want your sisters or any other woman.” Once again he surprised you. How could he say such a thing when he did not know you? Even if he believed you to be the most beautiful woman in the world, for all he knew you could have been the most cruel woman alive. “I am staring because I am taken by you.” He finished with a soft grin.

You blushed slightly. Feeling a grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth, you looked away from him. “You do not know me.” You said, shaking your head.

Jace chuckled to himself, “You are skeptical. I know that now.”

You smiled slightly at his amusement, “People should be.” you said with a raised brow.

He smiled as he bit his lip, “And now I know you are intelligent.” he said with a nod.

You could not hide your smile this time. You scoffed a laugh as you looked outside your carriage, noticing the large green beast in the sky flying above you. “I thought you would be on your dragon.” You said looking towards Vermax in the sky.

“I wanted time to speak plainly with you, and Vermax is not yet big enough for two,” Jace said earnestly. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his presence.

You looked back to Jace, “Not sure how I would fare on a dragon's back.” you said with a stifled laugh.

“I think you’ll do fine considering you’re a skilled horse rider,” Jace said with a smirk as your eyes widened.

Once again this prince had surprised you. You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in forward, “You do know about me.”

Jace smiled, stifling a laugh as he looked down, “I confess I might have read quite a bit about your family before coming here.” He looked back at you, “And then I found that I was reading quite a bit about you.” He said as if he were admitting a great secret.

He was not lying either. When prompted with the offer of marriage, Jace was hesitant. He even suggested wedding his little brother Joffrey to one of your younger sisters. But once he began to read of your family, he found himself wanting to know more and more about you. He found himself fascinated by you, and once there was nothing left to read about you he decided he’d rather marry you.

You felt heat dash across your cheeks as your blush revealed how much he’d flattered you. “A dull read for a Prince, I am sure.”

He shook his head, “Far from it.” He said earnestly, his eyes looking at you as if you were a beautiful and extravagant painting.

You and he talked the entire ride to the ship to Dragonstone. He continued to ask you questions about yourself throughout the ride. You did not ask him any in return. You did not know what to ask, what could you ever have in common with a prince?

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Once at Dragonstone, most of your days were spent completing errands for the queen, or if you were lucky, sharing a thought or opinion at the small council. She thought it was important for you to participate as you were to be queen one day.

You also spent much of your time avoiding the prince. You caught him staring at you many times, and his gaze lingered on you as you walked through a room.

But you hardly had a moment alone to yourself. You had nary a moment to ride a horse, practice your swordplay, or even read. So once you were able to be alone, you decided to practice your archery. Although you did not know that the prince also shared that desire.

At The top of a tall hill, was a training field. It had tall wooden targets made specifically for practicing your arrow's aim. As you made your way up the steep path to the top, you were caught off guard by the sound of an arrow hitting a wooden target that stood mere inches from where the path ended.

You continued up the path, peering behind the wooden target to see Jace pointing his crossbow at that same target. “My prince.” You said calmly despite his aim.

“My Lady!” Jace said surprised, and pointing the crossbow away from you, “My apologies.”

“No need.” You shrugged, “I am not maimed.”

He stifled a laugh, “I should hope not.”

You approached the wooden target, looking at the arrow that had pierced it with clear ferocity as the wood splintered and broke from the impact, “That’s quite the shot.” You said as your fingers trailed along the arrow.

“Thank you-”

You leaned against the wooden target, “Whom did you imagine it to be?” you asked looking back toward Jace.

Jace hesitated unsure if he should say, “A green.” You could tell by his tone he was holding back the truth.

“Liar.” You said with a grin. Jace looked at you surprised, never had anyone dared question him other than his family. It was refreshing to have you challenge him, “I am sure it was a green but it was more personal than that.” You said pushing yourself off of the wooden target and walking towards Jace.

“Aemond Targaryen.” He said almost immediately. You stopped your steps, feeling somewhat guilty you forced him to divulge such a personal matter. You knew of what happened to his brother.

You looked at him gently, “Aemond should be frightened.” You said earnestly.

“They all should be.” He said, attempting to direct his attention towards anything else, “My mother's armies are fierce and unrelenting.”

“As are you.” You said softly as you continued to walk closer toward him, “Grief is a powerful thing, the want for vengeance even more so.”

Jace felt emotion getting the better of him. But seeing as he was to marry you, he might as well feel able to confide in you, “I miss him.” Jace said weakly.

You were silent for a moment. Unsure of how you could comfort him. But soon you spoke, “I lost mine own sister.” Jace looked at you, “She too was younger than I.” You said with a nod stepping towards him, “I am sure you read about it. It was the cold that took her. The cold wind brings sickness. It makes us northerners stronger, we suffer each sickness so that we never suffer them again.” You stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of how you could continue your story, “But for those who are too weak, too small, too fragile… The cold wind kills them.” You looked at Jace with understanding, another name for love, “I spent years angry at any gust of cold air I felt. I cannot imagine how you feel. To have a face and a name to place that anger.” Jace only looked at you, he never had someone who could understand him so well. He didn’t have the words. But you didn’t need them. You approached him, getting close to his side as you adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “You should hold the stock closer to your shoulder.” you said pushing it to the correct position for him.

Jace looked over his shoulder to you, “I think I am in love with you.” He spoke earnestly, and softly.

You looked back at him, “I know you are.” you spoke as earnestly as he did.

Jace dropped his crossbow. He put your face into his hands, cupping your jaw gently. He looked at you for just a moment. He was going to ask for your permission to kiss you but you pressed your lips to his before he could. “I don’t know how I was ever frightened by you.” You smiled as he stifled a laugh and kissed you again.

You and he from that moment forth, were nearly inseparable.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After the war was fought and over, the Blacks were victorious in their goal to retake Rhaeynra’s rightful throne. Blood was shed of course, but now that it was done with it was time for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than for a royal wedding?

Your gown was heavy, and although you had little regard for fashions even you could appreciate how beautiful it was.

You never thought you’d feel so proud to wear another man's cloak, adorned with the symbol and colors of his house. But you wore the black and red three-headed dragon on your shoulders with great pride and honor.

Your pride did not subside the whole evening. After your vows and kiss were performed, you and your now husband danced in the great hall as the rest of the guests ate, sang, and danced about the room.

Jace held you closely as you danced slowly. Your eyes locked onto his, and both of you were simply dazed with happiness and love. “My husband, the dragon.” You said sweetly with your forehead pressed against his.

Jace’s hand ran over your hair gently, careful not to disturb your intricately braided hair, “My wife, the wolf.” He said with a proud and love-drunk smile.

Your eyes roamed the room, you could see each high-born girl looking at you with jealous eyes. It made you grin, “I think I have made every girl in the seven kingdoms green with envy.” you said leaning into Jace, your eyes still scanning the room.

“And I have driven every man to a jealous rage.” He said with an amused smile as his eyes roamed the room as well.

“Because you’ll be king over them all.” You said gently as you closed your eyes, laying your head against his shoulder.

He leaned in closer to your ear, “Because I’ve married the most beautiful, intelligent, and fierce woman in the known world.” He said sweetly.

You raised your head from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. You could see the love he had for you just by his look. You did not care if it would be considered polite or not, your lips pressed against his own. He did not care either. His hand held you at the nape of your neck.

“Daughter,” A voice called out, it startled you slightly. Daughter was a title you had not been called in years now with your parent’s cold in the crypt. You looked over to see the Queen herself. Rhaenyra looked towards her son, still holding tightly onto you. “Might I have a moment, Jace?” Jace nodded and gave you a small kiss on your temple before leaving you and your mother to speak.

Rhaenyra took you by the arm, walking around the ballroom. “Well, I know your mother could not be here today and I suppose I wanted to give you a word of motherly advice. Political marriage can be a difficult thing to adjust to.” She said with a sigh, “Though it seems my son has had no difficulty in that regard, nor you.” She finished as she looked at you with a warm smile.

You smile back at her, though feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Your son is an honorable man, and I am honored to be his wife.” You said with a nod.

She rubbed your arm gently with her hand, “I have no doubts you will serve our house well.”

“I can only hope so. Your house has been most gracious-”

“Your house.” She corrected you, “It is your house now, my dear.”

You did not know what to say, you’d not felt a motherly touch in so long. “Thank you, your grace.” You said with a smile and respectful nod.

“Seven blessings to you, my dear.” She said smiling, before leaving you.

Afterward, you tried your best to reunite with your new husband, only he was nowhere to be found. As you walked around the great hall you were approached by many guests, all high-born lords and ladies who never paid you any mind before today. They all congratulated you with great respect and spoke oh so highly of you and your family. No doubt attempting to gain favor in the eyes of their future queen. Between this sudden overbearing attention, you now could not help but notice how grand this wedding was. It was far more extravagant than any wedding in the north had ever been.

You drowned your nerves with wine. But you wouldn’t feel any better until you found Jace again.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once the party was dying out like an exhausted candle, you were determined to find Jace once again.

Somewhat angry and somewhat concerned you attempted to hunt down the prince without causing concern. Soon you were pushing open the large heavy doors to the throne room.

Pushing the door open just enough to look in, you signed as you saw your husband standing in the room staring at the throne.

“I thought you ran away.” You said pushing the doors to the Throne room open.

Jace looked over his shoulder at you and held out his hand towards you, “From the festivities. Not from you.”

You grabbed hold of his hand, “I was quite miserable without you.” You said in annoyance with a pout as he pulled you into his side.

His hand trailed up and down over your back soothingly, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, I won’t again, I swear it to you.” He said as his hand then snaked around your waist holding you even closer.

You nodded in agreement, “The celebration was generous, far more generous than I am used to.” You said trying not to sound ungrateful. Your fingers trailed over the lavish embroidery of dragons and fire on Jace’s overcoat. “I was happy to hear there would be no bedding ceremony,” you said casually just to tease him, your eyes still following your finger as it traced the intricate stitching of his coat.

Jace’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “You think that I would allow that?” He said with a slightly aggressive tone as he held you by your chin forcing you to look at him, “Allowing men to paw at you?”

You couldn’t keep up your facade and your grin gave away your intentions. Jace let your chin go as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Such a protective husband you are proving to be.” You said as you kissed the corner of his mouth, “Still even if there is no ceremony-” You kissed the sensitive bit between his jawline and his neck, making him hiss, “I was rather excited for what comes after the wedding.” you said with a luscious gaze.

Jace couldn’t help but widely grin as he stifled a chuckle, “No one is more eager than I am.” He said caressing your cheek, “I just,” He sighed, “I find myself overwhelmed.”

“The war is over, and won.” You said softly, “You should be happy.”

“I am happy.” He said assertively, not wanting you to think otherwise. Then he sighed as he looked towards the throne, “The burden is a heavy one.”

You looked towards the throne as well, “The crown was never meant to be light.” Your eyes then went back to Jace, “Those who are best fit for it proceed it in caution, not enthusiasm.” You already spoke with the wisdom of a queen.

“Are you so comfortable to assume the position of queen?” Jace asked defensively, he did not always like being proven wrong.

You were not upset by his question, “No. Quite the opposite.” You said with a shake of your head, “I always valued my privacy. Never liked having eyes on me, never liked people talking about me.”

“Perhaps you would have been happier to marry a different man.” He sulked.

You narrowed your brows, “Is that how you feel?” You questioned him assertively, sick of his self-pity.

His demeanor changed, becoming softer, “No.” He said holding your jaw gently, “I do not want anyone else.”

You placed a hand on his that held your face, “I know this marriage was arranged but I am happier for it. You are an honorable man, who will make a great king.” You spoke gently.

Jace shook his head, “I have no doubt you will be a beloved queen. You are wise and caring. Born of a noble house.” He said looking at you with admiration.

“As are you.“ You said, wanting him to see himself worthy of his inheritance.

Jace shook his head and looked down as if he were ashamed, “You know what I am.”

You rolled your eyes, “I care not for such trivial matters. You are the son of the rightful queen.”

“And a bastard.” He said frustrated

“And I thank the gods for it.” You said stoically, “I have a taste for men with dark hair.” Your hand combed through his dark curls.

“Funny.” He said without amusement, “But what will people think of a bastard as their king? What will they think of our children-”

“When you take the throne you will no longer be a Velaryon. You will be a Targaryen. That is not a lie. Our children will be Targaryens, that is not a lie.” You interrupted him, already defensive over your future children, “You are a dragon rider, a brave and… handsome man.” You said, trailing off in the end as your eyes admired his features, “I think you just need to get adjusted to the role is all.” You said as you took Jace’s hand, pulling him towards the Throne. “Sit.” You commanded, and be obeyed,

Jace sat on the throne, and you were overcome with desire. He looked so powerful, and he fit in it so perfectly. There was no one else better suited to it.

Jace however did not share your feelings, “This is foolish-” He began about to push himself out of the throne.

“Wait,” You said, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the throne. You smirked at him as you stepped closer towards him, now standing between his legs, “I quite like the look of you in this chair.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair somewhat roughly, making him look up to you.

Jace grinned, “I quite like the look of you in this gown.” He said as his eyes trailed over your body in the ivory gown.

“Do you like it like this?” You asked as your fingers pulled at the laces of your gown, making it loosen around your shoulders, “Or like this?” You asked as your bare shoulders became exposed and you hiked up your skirts and straddled Jace’s lap.

Overcome by desire, Jace’s hands roamed your body with an untamable want, and his lips found yours with a deep hunger. Since your time in the training yard, you and Jace had kissed many, many, many times. But this was desperate, this was longing. His tongue found your own, and you never knew the warmth that would come with it. This kind of kiss was new.

You moved your mouth to his neck, kissing down until you were unbuttoning his shirt desperate for more skin to kiss.

He could not help but lean into your affections. His hands grasped harder onto your sides, his lips found your exposed skin. The pleasure sent a chill through your spine. You felt a candle light between your legs. Desperate for more, you began to grind your clothed cunt against his mounting excitement.

You smirked as you heard Jace gasp at your bold movements, “We can’t, not in here-” He said breathlessly.

“Why not? You’re the king.” You said softly with a gentle kiss to his neck, “My king.” You smirked at him as you opened his overcoat and blouse, admiring his body that was new to you. “You’ve kissed me before have you not? You are to fuck me tonight are you not? Why can I not sample you?” You asked sweetly, but darkly as you kissed down his chest, over his stomach, until you were kneeling in front of him between his knees as he sat on the throne.

As your hand gently grazed over his thighs, he cupped your cheek gently. “You make me weak. I can’t contain my urges.” He said with a weak smile, too love-drunk to think.

You shook your head, “I don’t want them contained.” You said as you kissed the bulge his throbbing cock was creating beneath his constricting trousers.

Jace tried but failed to conceal his moan of pleasure, “I’ll do whatever my queen commands of me.” he spoke breathlessly, his eyes already begging to roll back in ecstasy though he tried to maintain his composure.

You rested your head against his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. Your eyes were that of a siren of the sea as you looked up at him, “I only wish to serve…” Your hand began to trail over toward the silk laces of his trousers, “My king.” you said as you began to free him from the confines of his clothing.

He gasped again as he watched you, “Gods be good.”

You pulled the expensive fabric of his wedding attire down and his cock eagerly sprung out. You smirked as you looked at it, “Fit for a king.” You said with a smirk, reaching for his length, but stopping just inches before you could touch him, “Can I?” You wanted to be certain before you did it, and he eagerly and desperately nodded. As you took him in your hand he groaned in pleasure. You stroked it slowly, almost painfully slow. With each stroke, you were fixated on the noises you were drawing out of him. Desperate for more, You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth, or as much of him as you could take. Sucking slowly and gently, his moans and the lewd sounds from your mouth echoed throughout the empty throne room. As you released him from your mouth desperate for air, you continued to stroke him, “You taste so good.” You said breathlessly.

Jace mewled, and took a deep breath, trying his best not to finish right then and there, “You feel so good, your mouth feels so so good.” He whined beautifully, throwing his head back against the cold steel of the throne.

You began to kiss the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum as it leaked from him, “You like it?” You asked teasingly innocent.

“Y-yes.” He stammered as he groaned

You suddenly stopped your movements, ceasing all attention you were giving him, it was enough to drive him mad as he groaned in agony, “Have you ever had a woman touch you like this?” You asked leaning your head against his thigh, as if you were completely unaware of the torture you were putting him through.

He shook his head eagerly, “N-no, only you.”

You smirked as you took him back in your hand, “You truly are an honorable man.” You gave his cock a final kiss before you turned your attention towards his balls, taking one in your mouth. You were unfamiliar with what you were doing but somehow it came naturally. Your desire drove you in the right direction. Sucking on him as you stroked his cock.

This sensation was all too new for Jace, he threw his head back and moaned erratically, “F-f-f” he stammered

You released him, followed by a lewd noise, “You can curse.” You told him, knowing what he wanted to do.

“Fuck…” He said as if he had resurfaced after being drowned, He looked down at you longingly, “Can I touch you?” He asked desperately.

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, “Of course, my king.” you said with a nod, taking him back in your mouth again.

His hands went to your head, petting your hair sweetly, being sure to keep your hair out of your face. His moaning only got louder, “Awh, thank you- thank you.” He whined, “You’re so beautiful.” He said as he watched you lovingly stroke and suck on his throbbing length. You squeezed him in a particular way that made his muscles twitch, “Awh! I love you-” He said, his mind empty, but meaning every word.

You released him for just a moment to breathe, “Say it again.” you commanded before taking in your mouth again.

You could feel his grip on your hair tightening, “I love-” He nodded, and you began to stroke fast, suck harder, “Awh!” he moaned out in pleasure as your moments picked up, “I love you, with everything I have.” He spoke breathlessly, “My wife, my queen.”

You could feel his body tensing underneath your touch, you could feel his cock throbbing when harder, his breath and moans more erratic. You knew what was coming, so you did what he hoped to all the Gods that you wouldn’t do, and you stopped. You released him from your mouth and your touch. “Uh-uh.” You said standing up, and pulling your gown back up around your shoulders.

Jace looked at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, “You tease me?” he asked desperately, attempting to catch his breath.

You smirked at the sight in front of you, he sprawled out on the throne nearly fully exposed, “I want you to spill inside me. How else am I to give you children?” You said in a teasing tone.

Jace huffed but smirked, knowing his release was going to be something he earned. He pushed himself back into his trousers and stood.

He smirked at you as he began to rush you out of the throne room, no doubt towards your now shared chambers. Stopping for a moment to push you against the throne room doors to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

As your kiss was released you smiled at him, “I love you, you know?” you spoke gently.

He stifled a laugh and nodded, “I know you do.” he said before kissing you once more before pushing you out of the room and chasing you toward your chambers.

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windvexer · 3 months ago

Text

Building walls as a part of protection

I truly believe that when most witches fall short of success, it's not necessarily a failure of power or spellcrafting but rather a failure of strategy.

Witches can raise power and cast spells just fine and still not be able to accomplish goals. So when it comes to protection here are things I've learned, take what you like and leave the rest behind:

Do you actually have a magical wall or boundary that stops unwanted things from reaching you?

For this post, ward = protective wall; a division that creates discrete, defensible spaces

Conjuring good energies is not a ward

Cleansing negative energy is not a ward

Binding behaviors is not a ward

Banishing unwanted beings is not a ward

Calling guardians is not a ward

Cursing your enemies is not a ward

Asking gods for blessings is not a ward

A good place to start any protection is to BUILD A WALL.

This should be understood as a literal magical wall that is built within the spirit worlds that overlay our physical worlds.

Physical boundaries make the best anchor points for magical walls: the boundaries of your property, your house, the walls of the room, fences, cairns or markers, or encapsulating objects (your whole bed, your whole body)

Wall building spellcrafting and correspondences post

You can build walls by:

Making container spells with correspondences like stones, nails, wood, shells (sea creatures, nuts, eggs).

Making sigils that define the existence of the barrier

Going around physical boundaries and raising and fixing energies

Placing magically potent amulets or symbols along the boundary line, including symbols drawn with energy

Enchanting a candle or incense and carrying it along the boundary line to establish the boundary

Asking spiritual helpers to assist you in any of the above

You can have multiple walls. If you are under serious spiritual attack, you should probably have multiple walls.

Suit of armor: personal protection

Inner chamber: ward on your bed/sleeping space to protect your sleep

Room: ward on you bedroom or private area where you work magic and divination; a place where you can get a break and rest

Home: ward on entire home; more rooms may be individually warded as desired

Homestead: ward on entire property; can still be done on your building/nearby property if you live in apartments

Avoid splitting focus when you build walls.

Focus on BUILDING A STRONG WALL.

You can place 'aggressive protections' down later, this is like waiting to add spikes and boiling oil until after you've built the wall.

Do not siphon off your wall's strength and power by also having the wall do cute tricksy things ('this wall cleanses what is within!' NO, why are you redirecting power to provide passive cleansing?! You need to prioritize your actions, stop trying to mop while there's a hole in the side of the ship.)

Plan a point of ingress/egress and retain complete control over it.

"This wall is an immovable object. This wall is a mountain that existed before the rings of Saturn. This wall has only one gate, and I hold the key."

A physical key works very well to control this magical gateway.

DO NOT BUILD IN LOOPHOLES TO PROVIDE GRACE TO HARMFUL SPIRITS.

"This wall protects me from all spirits, unless I misunderstood their intentions, unless they apologize to me, unless they agree to be nice to me, even if they really dislike me but they just agree to not actively harm me-" like why are you doing this to yourself. Do you not think you deserve a greater degree of protection? You are not the 'mom friend' to spirits who needs to give them chance after chance for their mental health. You are not the 'group glue' that is holding the spirit community together. It is not your job to sacrifice your sense of security and wellbeing so random spirits have a game night to attend. Please choose yourself and your own safety.

Once your wall is built, assign guardians to it.

Pray and petition that powerful protectors assign angels, elementals, or spirits to patrol the gate in your wall. Contract with spirits yourself (such as your familiars or helper spirits). Build watchful and protective energy constructs.

If you've wisely placed the gateway to your wall to align with a physical gateway (such as the front gate or front door), see if a nearby plant, tree, stone, &etc. can be contracted to watch the gate for you.

Energy construct vessels (an amulet where the construct lives) and spirit vessels can be placed near the physical gateway to greatly empower their work.

Assign guardians in this order: First the gateway, to oversee who approaches and tries to pass through - the guardians should reinforce your rules, and protect against anything that isn't allowed to pass. Secondly, other guardians may patrol around the wall.

Planets can assign elementals, making Mars an excellent planetary power to petition for protection

Ask your spirits to introduce you to guardians who can help you with this task

A second protection spell can function as a guardian by utilizing protective correspondences and assigning the second spell to guard the gateway of the first.

When searching for guardians or creating constructs, keep in mind that keen eyesight and discernment are of great use; therefore correspondences that also benefit Second Sight and clarity are well employed (give wormwood or star anise a spin).

Once guardians are assigned, build any fancy extras you want - these are your aggressive or illusory protections.

Work with your guardians and ask them what tools would best help them protect the wall. They may give answers that aren't exactly about fortifying the wall (like, 'the wall is fine but we could use a resting place nearby').

If you aren't working with guardians or otherwise ready to proceed, now at this point add the spikes, the boiling oil, the invisibility shields, and anything else you want to fortify your defenses.

Add these by creating additional protection spells that 'drape over' the wall. Once the boundary of the wall has been established you may find it to be much easier to lay down additional protections along the same line.

Finally, deal with conditions inside of the wall.

Once protection work is done, things like cleansing, adjusting the vibes, etc., are a separate and IMO unrelated process.

#tbl

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comicaurora · 2 months ago

Note

Hey Red! Long time viewer, first time Asker - I have been so consistently impressed with the quality of the world of Aurora, and I wanted to say how cool I think this series is!

For my question, I want to know which order you went in when you made the comic: did the characters inform the world, or vice versa? I’m working with a team to make a story and I’m of the mindset that the world must inform the structure of the characters, but I’ve seen a lot of opposing ideas that say characterization should be paramount and the world should mold to fit the idea of the characters so they can shine.

I've sort of gone back and forth about this! By which I don't mean I've changed my mind on which is important - I mean at different stages of the worldbuilding I've reversed whether I change the world to suit the characters or vice versa.

Early on I built a simple concept to serve as the foundation of my world, and then I almost entirely scrappd it. It was the idea that anything that possessed both a soul and a body had a mind. You could have souls without bodies and bodies without souls, but only both those things together produced a mind, like an interfefence pattern produced by layering two grids on top of one another. Emergent consciousness was a fun concept, but not exactly a good foundation to build a whole world around, so I dropped it and focused on other things.

Then I went full character driven. I would build a character I thought was cool and flesh out the world that needed to exist to justify them. I wanted a cool wizard with a superpowered evil side so I built an elemental magic system for him. I wanted a weird dude with a connection to a god, so I built out gods.

It worked for a first draft, but it was very wobbly. The characters didn't have much to tie them together beyond loosely existing in the same world. So once I had the elemental magic system, I worked backwards to make a coherent world out of it - elementally influenced people and creatures producing exciting magical subspecies and fun fantasy regions of high magic. I worked out the primordials and some of the effects of their elemental natures. I started laying out gods and the worldbuilding of souls largely to answer the question "why can't a wizard just automatically win every fight by turning people inside out" because that was less interesting than the character stuff I wanted to do.

With the world actually coherent I switched back to building out character concepts. I had all this world stuff locked down, but now I had a really cool idea for this edgy beastman dude, and where could THAT fit in? So I started building out the history of the world to cover the ground of "wizards and gods and other powerful people did Weird Shit to reshape the world and make new kinds of people sometimes" which gave me a lot more room to play. And building out the history meant locking down a timeline and putting historical events in order, and once I did THAT, it gave me a bunch more worldbuilding ideas to play with of when certain things could've happened and what effects those might've caused-

Anyway, I can't tell if I'm doing this wrong or if I'm doing this very right, but in my experience it's worked best as a back-and-forth, letting each draft grow and change the next one.

#asks #aurora #writing stuff

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drdemonprince · 9 months ago

Text

I grew up with abstinence-only sex education, and it did a real number on me. But I’ve shaken off enough of my old cultural programming to realize that the transmission of bacteria and viruses is a thing that sometimes just happens when animals come together, no matter how stringently we might try to prevent it.

I have gotten urinary tract infections when a stray microbe found its way into my urethra after sex. Lube and bodily fluids have disturbed my vagina’s pH and caused a yeast infection many times. So has wearing a bathing suit for too long without drying it, yet another “risk” worth the pleasures of swimming along the sea wall.

Once or twice I’ve had an outbreak of cold sores, just like 80% of humans. If I’m like most people, I probably caught oral herpes when I was very young, sharing a sippy cup or rolling around at a sleepover.

None of this makes me disgusting, irresponsible, evil, or dangerous to others. It just makes me a living creature that exists in close contact with other creatures. I believe I have a responsibility to get tested regularly, to alert people who have been close to me when I get sick, and to use preventative measures like condoms, PreP, vaccines, toys, and masks to prevent the spread of infections as best I can. But I never imagine I can lead a life without risk — or that such a life would even be desirable.

There is no such thing as completely “safe” sex. A friend of mine can’t use condoms because they give her bacterial vaginosis. She chooses instead to fuck raw and take PreP and get anything else she catches treated. A guy I know who masks and tests religiously caught COVID while fisting someone (with a gloved hand!) at an air-filtered party. HPV is so prevalent that most sexual wellness clinics don’t bother testing for it, and can’t do much for a patient if they do have it. Our bodies are teeming at all times with various endemic viruses and microbes that we will never have the power to purge.

Then there are the possible costs of not having sex — vaginal atrophy, pelvic floor weakening, reduced access to endorphins, loneliness, touch starvation, the despair of harboring dreams that one never dares try. I can’t decide for anyone else which dangers loom the largest, but for me a gonorrhea shot is a fair trade for the hours of leg-cramping, bed-staining, hypno-kinky sex that led to it. There’s no guarantee that the next time I have sex it will be anywhere near as much fun, but the potential keeps me throwing the dice.

I hear quite frequently from sexually inexperienced Autistic people who crave an intimate connection, but desperately wish to remain responsible and “safe.” They want there to be a set of iron-tight rules they can follow that will guarantee they remain a virtuous person who never hurts anyone’s feelings, and never catches any sexually transmitted infection.

I understand why they want someone to impose order onto an unpredictable, terrifying world. But I can’t give that certainty to them, nor can anyone. All I can suggest is that they be honest with themselves about what they want, inform themselves of the costs and benefits to pursuing their desires, and then venture forward — proudly welcoming the correct risks into their life, rather than trying to avoid any risks at all.

Life is nothing but a negotiation of risk. If a person has gender dysphoria and they want to combat it, they must risk a transition they could one day regret. If an abolitionist wants to take a stand against the police state, they must plan for the possibility of arrest or political repression. When we open our hearts to love, we expose ourselves to grief — our partners will keep changing and growing, sometimes away from us. Each step that we take forward in life closes off potential paths. There is no avoiding this.

Instead of chasing after the false promise of “safety,” trying to remain completely insulated from harm and challenge forever, we must get better at admitting risk into our lives.

I wrote about all about the messy business of risk mitigation, and how the pursuit of perfect safety is used to justify isolation, theft of bodily autonomy, and political repression. It's free to read (or have narrated to you by the app!) at drdevonprice.substack.com

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monstersflashlight · 2 months ago

Note

In LOVE with your alien fics and I was wondering if it's alright to request for a specific alien race? Specifically the Yautjas (the alien creature from the Predator movies)

I was thinking of a human reader who works in an intergalactic repair shop of some kind for space travel and while she's used to getting beings of their race come by often, there's this one yautja who just keeps coming back more frequently than the others and since he's being such a generous and regular customer she decides to give him some "perks" 👀👀

If you can't then it's fine just wanted to try asking. Absolutely adore your writing and am thankful to have found your blog!! ✨️✨️

A/N: I don’t usually do specific alien races, but you are welcome to imagine this one is a yautja. Also, if you are wondering… yes, the title is a joke. Enjoy!

The perks of being an alienfucker

Alien x fem!reader || exhibitionism (technically), semi-public sex, oral sex, dirty talk (very light)

You’ve been working as a mechanic at the space station for a while. For long enough that some of the “locals” already know you. You are friendly with a couple of them, always cheerful when they show up to fix one thing or the other. You suspect they only bring you the little problems to fix so they can chat with you, you are something like a catch by intergalactic standards. Or so they’ve told you.

But there’s one… There’s one alien that makes your blood boil and your pussy get wet. Every time he shows up you have to bite your lip to avoid saying something inappropriate. But the fact that he doesn’t look much better makes you feel extra giddy. You almost expect him to bend you over the spaceship and fuck you hard, but he never does.

He’s always waiting, as if he’s expecting some kind of signal from you that you want the same thing. And he catches you in the worst moment, when you are ovulating and your vibrator broke down last night. He appears at the door with his big strong arms and his too big body and you are already salivating. You can see every ridge of his body in his super tight suit…

And you had enough of the teasing, of the flirting, of the way his eyes run over your body as if he’s imagining licking every inch of you.

So you turn around and bend over the spaceship. The inclination of the hood makes your ass be higher than your shoulders and you are sure you look sinful like that. You look over your shoulder as you lower your pants and panties, exposing your pussy to him. If he doesn’t get the signal he needs with that… you are more than done trying to get this fine specimen of an alien to fuck you senseless.

He stops what he’s saying (you don’t even know because you weren’t paying attention), and looks at you, his eyes traveling down your body and focusing on your most vulnerable place. “What are you doing?” His voice sounds breathless, and it makes a shiver run down your spine.

You press your face against the cold metal, rapidly warming under your skin, and look at him over your shoulder, wriggling your hips a little. “I think it’s pretty clear. I’m face down, ass up, do you need a map?” You tease like the little shit you are.

He steps closer to you, still a couple feet away. “Don’t play with me, human,” he growls. His eyes are as dark as ever, and he’s clenching his fists at his sides. He seems to be vibrating and you can’t stop the little whimper that leaves your mouth.

“I want you to play with me,” you tell him after your brain starts working again.

He stomps his way to you until he’s standing right behind you, his hands hovering over your exposed backside. “Last chance to say this is all a joke, human,” he warns.

You growl, and he inhales loudly. “Fuck me already, for fuck’s sake,” you let out, your body tense and ready to explode just having him there, looking.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but for him to fall to his knees behind you and start devouring your cunt and asshole like a desperate alien was not it. You try to find something to grab, but you are powerless as he eats you out with everything he has.

You are panting and moaning, a little part of your brain realizing the door is wide open and anybody can walk in. But that only makes you hotter, groaning deeply as he pushes a finger inside of you. Is messy and fast, and your first orgasm catches you off guard completely.

He pulls back, growling low and sustained, it almost sounds like… “Are you purring?” You let out in a choked breath, almost wanting to laugh. But he doesn’t let you think twice about it, the tip of his dick pressing against your opening.

He pushes in, one long thrust that makes your feet get off the ground and you are grateful he ate you so well before because you definitely needed the extra lubrication. He’s big. He feels huge, actually. And you can’t get enough of him.

He fucks you nasty, his hips pushing yours forward and making you hit the metal of the spaceship in an almost forceful way that makes your brain short-circuit as you see stars. He keeps grunting and moaning, and the sounds he makes only drive you further into ecstasy.

It’s fast and hard and everything you needed.

“Come for me before somebody walks by, human. I want to feel your pussy strangling my cock,” his crude words make you twitch around him, creating a new wave of curses and grunts that drive you over the edge.

The orgasm rocks your body backwards, pushing him as deep as possible as you tremble. Your face is pressed to the spaceship and your knees feel weak as he grabs your hips and pushes you off your feet, rutting inside of you until you feel the first shot of his come hitting your cervix. It’s exhilarating in the best way possible.

You come back to your body feeling like jelly, plastered against the spaceship unable to move. He pulls back with a groan, kissing your back one last time before caressing your side.

“I’ll be coming tomorrow... to check on the spaceship.” He whispers before patting your ass and pushing your pants and panties back up, trapping the mess he made on your pussy against the fabric. It feels weird and sticky, but makes your lower belly boil with arousal.

You can’t wait until he returns.

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knavesflames · 7 months ago

Note

What about some vampire king arlecchino where she drinks blood-wine and keeps reader on her lap like a pet 😋

ӄɨռӄȶօɮɛʀ աɛɛӄ 1

[scheduled post]

Thank you for kickstarting my kinktober <3 I took the idea and ran with it but I’m actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope everyone else is too <3

Word count: 1.8k

Contents: fingering, vampire!arlecchino x human fem!reader

Nsft utc!

Arlecchino, a vampire so powerful that she terrifies both vampires and humans alike. Rumour has it that she once killed a man just by appearing next to him and whispering. She’s hauntingly terrifying, and somehow, the most beautiful creature you’ve ever set your eyes on. You can’t trick yourself into thinking that she doesn’t horrify you, that something about her chills you to the bone and makes you almost pray she has mercy on you when she decides to kill you. Arlecchino seems to have taken a liking to you, however.

Watching you from afar each night, only appearing at your door after the clock strikes midnight, you noticed quickly that she was quite a persistent woman thing when she decided to be. At first, you ignored the knocking on the wood of your door (the only thing that separated you and her). When you refused to answer (for you knew you would meet your end the second you stared into those soulless eyes), she began speaking. Pleading, almost. “Let me in,” her voice, barely a whisper, had reached you even through the headphones you had on in an attempt to drown her out. You wondered if the powers she was rumoured to possess were, in fact, true.

You’d like to say you withstood it. That you were able to wait until she had gotten bored, and that you were not like the others. The others. What became of them, once she was finished? Were they, perhaps, the other vampires you knew roamed about the land? Or, had they become nothing more than bones buried in soil, waiting to be discovered by some aspiring archaeologist in decades to come? Nobody knew. Nobody wanted to.

Alas, you did not withstand it. After a few months of her lurking by your door, you made the grand mistake of opening it. Immediately, your eyes moved to the floor. If there was one thing you, and everyone else knew, was that it was incredibly unwise to look into her eyes. They were not normal eyes. They did not have an iris, or a pupil. They were black holes with crosses the colour of spilled blood. Something that seemed so simple, and yet, you have known of people who looked, and were left so scared they could no longer speak.

“May I enter? Your home looks ravishing.” Her voice was a drawl, one that pierced whatever guard you were attempting to put up. You opened your mouth, nothing came.

“Look at me.” You realised by then that the rumours about whatever powers she could possess were true, for you, despite your screaming mind and attempts to stay looking down, found your eyes travelling up her frame. Arlecchino was taller than you realised, and her heels certainly didn’t help. Her suit, somehow a pristine white (how odd for a bloodthirsty vampire), contrasted against the inky black in her hair. “May I enter?”

Your head unwillingly found itself nodding, but clearly, that wasn’t enough, for she demanded once more. “Say it.”

“..you can come in.” You muttered. From then, she would visit you quite often, and you would come home to find her casually sitting at your dining table. You grew quite attached to her, though you detested admitting it. When you learned that she would not leave you alone, you found yourself appeasing her, stocking up on candles she enjoyed, playing her favourite songs quietly. You both grew close, in all honesty, and you understood that the night she made your head fall back in pleasure and your voice break from the countless moans you let out. Something about her made your heart beat faster and your breathing heavier. (Was it fear or arousal? Did the fear somehow arouse you more? You refused to explore that train of thought because you knew the answer)

One October night, you come home after work only to find her there once again. Not a surprise anymore, you think, you almost knew she’d be there. On the nights where the air is bitter and there are no stars in the sky, she opts to spend her time with you. You offer a small hum of acknowledgment, but don’t look at her. You try not to look at her, ever.

“Come here.” Arlecchino’s voice carries through your small apartment, the familiar thrum of her fingers tapping on the table. When your eyes move to the table, you notice a wine glass. One of yours, you’re aware, but you didn’t own any wine. The cogs begin to turn as you take a few steps closer.

Her hand, blackened with patterns you can’t help but secretly admire, pats her knee, the soft sound of the fabric reaching your ears. You abide, once again, swallowing as you perch there, your body tense. One hand wraps around your waist, and with strength, too much strength, pulls you closer. Her body, which one would expect to be cold, is burning hot, and as much as you hate doing so, your body instinctively leans into it. The room is cold, and she seems to hum when she feels you rest your body weight onto her. Your jaw tenses when you begin to question if you’re even scared of her anymore.

Until, that is, she sips the wine in the glass she so graciously stole from you. Wine. ‘Wine’. It feels like ice shoots through your veins when you smell the familiar metallic smell of blood, the one that seems to always coat her skin just faintly. It is then that you realise she isn’t drinking wine at all, but blood. Fresh blood, even. You feel sick until her voice cuts through your mind.

“I can hear that heart of yours. Scared, hm?” The words are almost teasing, and somehow, it almost seems like she cares. You shudder when her breath (and her fang) grazes your skin as she speaks. You cannot decide if you want to stay or run. You are horrified.

“That isn’t wine.”

“No, it isn’t. I never said it was, you assumed.” Arlecchino murmurs, moving to begin placing gentle kisses along the skin of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter closed. In times like these, you forget she isn’t human anymore.

“I should have known you were like every other vampire.” You whisper, mostly to yourself. Even so, you allow your head to tilt to give her better access. Your mind is slightly fuzzy, but you hear her place the glass on the table, and you feel the way her hands are sliding under your shirt. You let her. You like it.

“I’m not like every other vampire,” she protests quietly, but the words are full of amusement and mockery. “I’m worse.” Her words are punctuated by a small bite on your earlobe, one that causes you to moan yelp. The creature woman almost chortles at your moan, and chooses to push away your bra roughly. She cups your breast like her hands were made to do so, and suddenly she isn’t so gentle. She presses hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, whatever skin she can access. Your arms circle her shoulders, and your hands weave into the snowy strands of her ponytail. When she gets this way, you always wonder whether she’s going to eat you, or, well, eat you.

Slender fingers fumble with the buttons of your jeans for a few seconds before she gets irritated, muttering a low curse before using those sharp, sharp nails to just rip the fabric. She lets out a noise of satisfaction when she hears the seams rip and you gasp. Without even thinking, you let your thighs spread, and she hums in approval.

“Good. Keep them like that, or else.”

“Or else, what?” You breathe, but the only reply you get is her fangs digging into your skin just slightly. You let out a breathy sigh, relishing each time her lips move against your skin, each time the tip of her fangs touch your skin, threatening, but never acting. (You’re unsure if she ever would bite you) (on certain evenings with her, you almost wish she would so you could spend your life with her)

“Please,” you murmur, and it seems that tonight, she is merciful, for her fingers move between your folds, a low chuckle coming from her throat.

“Excited, are we?” Arlecchino dons a wicked grin that only grows when she pushes said fingers into you, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. She starts slowly, letting you adjust, but after only a few movements, your body is asking for more, hips twitching in an attempt to get her to hit that spot.

She does as you want her to, again, and again until each breath of yours comes out as a groan, a moan or a whimper. Your hands grip onto her suit like it’s a lifeline, your eyes are squeezed shut.

“I could bite you now,” she murmurs, clearly excited by even the thought of it. Clearly, you are too, by the sound you make and your heart beats faster. “I like you too much to do that, my plaything, but the thought is good, no?”

Each thrust of her fingers brings you closer and she’s very, very aware of that. You are, too. Your hips are essentially riding her fingers at this point, and she lets you. “I have heard that blood tastes the best when one orgasms. Should we try? I think yours would taste the sweetest.”

Those words alone seem to send you over the edge, because with a final whine, your breath stops for a second and you see stars. “Fuck—“ your swearing is so loud that it echoes the room, and Arlecchino knows that for as long as she exists, she will remember the sound of it, even after you are long gone (unless she can gather the courage to turn you one day. She can’t fathom the idea that she turns you and one day you despise her, that she’ll have to walk around with that knowledge).

Sliding her fingers out of you with a slick pop, her tongue darts out, wetting her lips before resting her fingers on her tongue. She moans at the taste of it, she believes it’s better than any blood she could ever taste. Arlecchino used to tell herself that she’d get what she wanted and leave you for the rest of the night, but these days, she’s been staying much longer than she should be. So, when you end up talking asleep on her, she lets you, even choosing to stroke your hair and trace circles against the pulse point in your neck with one hand, her other now holding the wine glass again. She thinks absentmindedly for a long time, swirling the wine in her glass.

By the time you awaken, you’re in your bed, blankets tucked around your body, the apartment’s heating on medium, and her lipstick marking the pulse points of your wrist and your neck.

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back2bluesidex · 14 days ago

Text

Slippin' Under - JJK (18+) [Part 3]

Pairing: Bully!Jungkook X Fem!Reader ft. Jimin

Theme: angst, toxic workplace settings, bullying, class difference, haters to lovers au

Word count: 1k+

Summary: "You're toxic, I'm slippin' under"

Warnings: workplace bullying, insulting the reader based on her social stature, class difference, Jungkook is a shit.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: here we go. also, taglist requests are closed for now.

Previous | Next [Patreon]

Sometimes you think, Park Jimin doesn’t walk, he flows.

There’s a simplicity in his presence that demands attention, that is overpowering. His easy smile, fluffy but pleasantly styled blonde hair, his full lips, his moon crescent eyes - he has the power of making people fall in love easily.

Maybe that’s a part of why you developed this teeny-tiny crush on him.

You don’t expect to see him during this hour at all - but you didn’t expect yourself to work this late either. Even though you should have been prepared and you should be grateful that Jeon Jungkook decided to make you pay for his expensive suit by making you overwork and not by docking your pay.

Jimin knocks on your desk making you tear your eyes away from the computer. Your eyes go momentarily wide as you realize it’s Park Jimin himself. You scramble to get up and bow in respect, “Mr. Park, good evening.”

Jimin chuckles sweetly, placing his hands inside his pockets. The sound makes warmth bloom inside your chest.

“Good evening, Y/N. But why are you still here? You should have left for home hours ago.” Jimin places his question.

“I need to complete reviewing these files within today… so yeah.” you reply honestly.

Jimin downcast his eyes on the pile of the files, “and when were you assigned with these?”

“After lunch today.” there is no need to hide anything, this is not your fault. Typically, by company rules, employees can not be assigned with new work post-lunch, unless absolutely urgent.

And these files - these aren’t due for next two weeks.

“These aren’t urgent, are they?” Jimin’s eyes now meet yours. There's a question and there’s also understanding in his kind, brown orbs.

“No,” you look at your hands now.

“Okay. You can leave for the night.” Jimin says with finality. You know this should be it. Technically, Jimin serves at a higher position than Jungkook. If half of the company is on Jungkook’s mother’s name, then the other half belongs to Jimin’s father.

It’s not a secret that Jimin and Jungkook are cousins. Everyone knows how their father and mother (who are cousins as well) brought up the kids together. There’s only one thing that goes beyond your understanding, that is - if Jimin and Jungkook grew up together then how can Jimin be the sweetest creature on earth and Jungkook is just the polar opposite?

Jimin snaps his fingers before your face and only then you realize you zoned out earlier.

“Y/N, you heard me?” Jimin questions, the slight hint of concern in his voice makes your heart swell.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Park. but I- this won’t take much time. I can complete these within an hour. I can go home after that.” you don’t like to admit but pissing off Jungkook anymore than you already have doesn’t seem like a good idea.

“It’s 9 at night.” Jimin’s voice turns a little authoritative now, “stop working and wait here till I come back.” he orders, you only nod.

He leaves you at your place and disappears towards Jungkook’s room.

You hear footsteps again as you are packing your things up. When you look up expecting Jimin, your eyes meet with Jungkook’s first.

As always, his eyes bear more disgust than your entire body can gather.

“Y/N” Jimin calls your name, you divert your attention to him, “Jungkook will drop you home.”

What? What? Your throat constricts before you can protest. Jungkook continues to glare at you.

“I- Mr. Park, I don’t need a ride. Buses and the subway run till midnight. I can manage on my own.” you manage to say when the initial shock is over.

“Jungkookie mistook these files as urgent. He should have checked thoroughly before making you work overtime. It’s his fault, so he should be the one to take the responsibility.” Jimin defends his brother with a smile. You very well know that Jungkook didn’t make any mistake - it was very much intentional but there’s no point in saying anything now.

“Mr. Park, that’s alright. I can-” you try your hardest to get out of the situation. There’s no way you would like to spend an additional thirty minutes near Jeon Jungkook’s vicinity, that too, inside the confinement of his car.

But Jungkook cuts you off.

“Let’s go, it’s getting late.” his words slip out of his mouth casually, but you can feel the hint of anger lingering in those.

“That’s fixed then. Good night to both of you.” Jimin claps his hands together. For a moment you feel like he is celebrating your certain demise. If you come out of this car ride in one piece, that’s going to be astonishing indeed.

“I can’t believe, I am giving you a ride.” Jungkook’s voice pierce through the silent, stale air of the parking lot.

The heels of his expensive shoes clink against the cemented floor - you follow him closely behind.

“Mr. Jeon, you can drop me at the nearest subway station.” you suggest.

Jungkook stops in his tracks.

“Why? Want me to get scolded again?” he turns to face you, “you bitched about me, didn’t you?”

“I only answered the questions he asked.” you reply.

Jungkook takes two dangerous steps towards you, “you- don’t try to outsmart me. Just because you have hyung’s preference, I am not going to hate you any less.”

You don’t reply. There’s nothing to reply.

Fortunately enough, the car ride is silent and peaceful.

There are only a handful of times when you have had the opportunity of sitting in a private car but anything you have ever rode, don’t come near to the experience that Jungkook’s car brings to you.

The car is spacious, there are a thousand different controls on the dash, the small screen shows your address, the seat feels way too comfortable under your back and butt. You feel like you could sleep here for hours.

No matter how much you try to stay awake. The soft humming of the engine lulls you to sleep.

Sounds of loud car horns bring consciousness back to you.

The first thing you see is Jungkook’s face with a lewd smirk painted on it.

“I bet you never rode this kind of car in your entire life. It’s more comfortable than your bedroom isn’t it?” he throws one of his usual insults towards you, but you don’t feel bad. Mostly because there’s nothing wrong in his statements.

You sigh, a sad smile stretches on your face, “You are right. Your car is definitely more comfortable than the room I share with my parents. Thanks for the ride. This is probably the best I have slept in a while.”

You expect Jungkook to laugh loudly, laugh at your misery, at how different you are from him. But nothing returns other than silence.

When you pull your eyes up, you see him staring at you - the usual heat of anger and hatred missing this time.

“And you are okay with it? Okay with not being able to afford what others can?” he questions, inquisitiveness clear in his voice.

“All of us lack something. I am okay with lacking social status, money or that affordability. I can always work to build it on my own. I have a family, both of my parents are in good health. And I think that’s enough to be grateful for.” you grab your bag, “thanks for the ride, Mr. Jeon.” clicking the door open, you shut it behind. Only to find your mother standing out of the broken gate of your home.

“Ddal, whose car is this?” she asks. It fills you with dread. Jungkook can insult you as much as he wants, but not your parents.

Your mother’s sweater has several holes in it, her dress bears a big black spot from her work at the factory. You can’t let him see her like this. You can’t-

“Eomma-” your voice gets cut with a loud thud of the car door being closed.

“Eomonim” Jungkook walks from the other side of the car and comes to stand right beside you. There’s no mockery in his clear voice.

He bows in half in greeting.

“I am Y/N’s colleague at work. My name is Jeon Jungkook..” when he straightens up, you see him grinning wide.

Your breath stops.

Is it- is it really the Jungkook you know?

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