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itneverendshere · 23 days ago

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baby girl being born and she doesn’t come out crying, rafe thinks his heart stops

i loved this request💓💓 and decided to make it even more precious by adding a tiny bit of this one: "for some reason i see this baby being born in November/october and you think it’s perfect for the holidays and rafes birthday hahahaha (i use drew’s birthday for his)". hope you like it!!🥰

half a heart without you - r.c

pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: child labor; mentions of death.

rafe sat on the the stiff hospital chair, bouncing his leg anxiously as the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room. the muffled voices of the nurses around him did nothing to soothe his panic. all he could focus on was you—the love of his life.

you lay in the hospital bed, breaths labored, your hand gripping his with a force he knew you’d later joke about. even through the sweat and exhaustion of labor, you were beautiful. your eyes moved towards him, and despite the pain etched into your face, you gave him an exhausted smile.

"it's almost time," the nurse announced, glancing between the monitors and her patient.

rafe squeezed your hand tighter, his heart hammering in his chest.

he should be excited—this was supposed to be the moment where everything changed, where the world became new. he had dreamt about your daughter for months, imagining what she’d look like, what kind of personality she’d have, how his life would revolve around her from the second she entered the world.

he never thought of himself as someone who wanted to be a father—never thought he deserved it, but now he couldn’t imagine anything else. this baby girl was going to be his world.

he adjusted his mask, trying to ignore the panic inside him, he had to put your first no matter what his head was screaming at him. "you doing okay, baby?"

you shot him a look, disbelief and irritation crossing your face. "does it look like 'm okay, rafe?" you snapped between breaths, the hand that wasn’t cutting his circulation gripped the side of the bed with a force that made your knuckles turn white.

the change in humour would've blindsided him if he hadn't dealt with it throughout your pregnancy.

rafe winced, his lips twitching into an apologetic smile. "stupid question. sorry."

the nurse smiled from the other side of the room, used to seeing husbands or boyfriends fumbling in this exact situation.

rafe, however, wasn’t going to stand back and just be in the way. he moved closer to your side.

“you’re doing great.” he whispered encouragingly leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “you’re so strong. stronger than me.”

the doctor glanced over at rafe, his expression calm but serious.

"we’re almost there. one more big push, and she'll be here."

he couldn’t believe this was happening. after months of anticipation, this was it—the moment their daughter would finally come to the world.

"one more push," he echoed to you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "you got this. ’m right here."

you let out a groan, squeezing his hand hard enough that rafe was sure his bones were grinding together. you took a breath before pushing with all your might, face contorting with the effort. rafe leaned forward, trying to offer what little comfort he could, but he felt useless.

your eyes flew open suddenly, and you glared at him almost desperately.

"you—" you panted, gasping between contractions, "you...fucked this baby out of me!"

his blue eyes went wide, mouth dropping open as he whipped his head around to look at the nurses and doctor, mortified. "she's—she's joking!" he blurted, his voice cracking as he felt his face heat up behind the mask, "swear she's joking!"

except you weren’t.

the nurse beside him smirked, while the doctor didn’t even flinch, calmly preparing for the baby’s arrival.

“completely normal,” the doctor said dryly, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “you wouldn’t believe the things we hear in here.”

rafe’s face burned, but when he looked back at you—his girl, red-faced and furious—he knew you were wacking him mentally for his stupid idea.

before he could say anything else in his defense, the doctor’s tone changed as he gave the final instruction, and the nurse moved into position. “this is it,” he said, focused now. “big push.”

he was three seconds away from fainting embarrassingly on this hospital room floor. this was it. he was about to be a dad.

you gave one final, strained push, after hours of labor, a guttural scream tearing from your throat. and then—

your daughter was born, but the room went silent, there was no cry.

rafe's heart stopped.

his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the small form in the doctor’s hands. the tiny, pink-skinned baby wasn’t moving. she wasn’t making any sound.

“she’s not—” rafe choked out, but the panic was already settling in his body as he looked between the doctor, the nurses, and you.

you were watching, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as fear clouded your expression. his mind was screaming again, this time, a deafening roar of terror, and all he could think was why isn’t she crying?

he could hear nothing, see nothing, except for the small, seemingly lifeless body in front of him. he felt numb, paralyzed.

but then he saw you—his rock—and you looked utterly shattered. the panic in your eyes was immediate, your face void of any color as you stared at the nurses working on your baby.

without thinking, he grabbed your cheeks, his hands framing your face as he forced you to look at him, not the nurses, not the baby.

just him.

“rafe,” you choked out, voice already raspy with sobs. tears filled your eyes, your entire body trembling under his hands.

“i know, baby,” he whispered, as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours, trying to keep you distracted. “keep your eyes on me. it’s gonna be okay. look at me, just look at me.”

you were already crying, tears mixing with the sweat on your face.

you gripped his wrists like he was the only thing keeping you sane, your breath coming in broken gasps. “rafe—” your sob was gut-wrenching as your eyes flicked toward the nurses again.

“hey,” he pulled you in again, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, wiping away the tears. he kissed your temple, holding you close as he kept his voice calm for your sake, even as his own heart felt like it was breaking. “she’s gonna be okay. i promise. she’s strong, just like you. just stay with me, baby, okay?”

you let out another sob, burying your face into his chest as he held you tighter.

he felt you shake in his arms and he wanted to fall apart too—wanted to break down and scream, to beg for their baby to be okay—but he couldn’t. so instead he pressed kiss after kiss to your temple, murmuring reassurances he wasn’t even sure he believed.

“it’s gonna be okay. she’s okay.”

the truth was, rafe wasn’t sure of anything and he didn’t know how long he could keep it together. but then—just as the panic threatened to consume him whole—a fragile cry pierced the air.

rafe’s breath caught in his throat, his whole body freezing with the sound. he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing in relief.

she was okay. she was here. she was okay.

the nurse, smiling now, wrapped your baby girl in a soft blanket and gently placed her on your chest. the sudden change from fear to overwhelming love hit him like a bullet, and all he could do was stare as you, still crying, reaching out to cradle your newborn daughter.

his hands dropped from your face, and he stepped back just slightly, his eyes glued to the sight of his daughter lying on you, tiny and perfect.

“she’s okay,” you mumbled to yourself like you still needed to believe it. your eyes were full of tears, hands still trembling as you gently stroked the baby’s head. “she’s okay.”

rafe felt his knees go weak with relief, his heart swelling as he leaned down, kissing your forehead, then brushing a kiss against the baby’s tiny head.

“she’s perfect,” he breathed out, voice still hoarse as he finally let his tears fall. he pressed his lips to your hair, breathing you in. “autumn,” he said softly, the name slipping out without hesitation. “born right in time for the holidays. just like we wanted.”

you looked up at him, cheeks still glistening with tears, and you smiled. a genuine smile, despite everything. “autumn cameron.”

rafe grinned through his tears, his hand gently resting on your daughter’s back.

“yeah,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “autumn cameron.”

he knew that no matter what happened in life, this—this—was everything.

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blackice-nsfw · 6 months ago

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imagine getting fucked by your pack of werewolves, over a dozen strong, emptying their balls into you over and over again as they pound into you relentlessly chasing their own pleasure but not allowed to knot you. Their dicks are the biggest ones you've ever taken, stretching you to the brink and stretching you even more as they bully themselves inside of you, shoving their knots in and out until you scream for release, to finally have a knot inside of you, but they always stop right as their knots press against you, never pushing further.

Each of them are so thick they grind against all the right stops inside of you, making you moan and wail as they use you, face down and ass up, tied to the tree stump as you are. Even when you slump down in exhaustion their big clawed hands grab your hips hard enough to bruise as they bully their length into you, howling as they bottom out and start a relentless pace. You don't know how long it's been going on, the full moon shining above you as the puddle of cum keeps dripping out of you unto the ground, mixing with your own release as they kept going on and on without rest. You were deep into your orgasm, a knot halfway inside you as an intimating snarl echoed in the clearing.

The werewolf alpha, the biggest one of the whole pack, shoved the lower ranking werewolf off of you, ripping his knot out of you. Your empty hole clenched around nothing, used to the size and shape of them by now, moaning to be filled again. The moment the alpha pressed the head of his cock against you, you knew you were taking in more than you could chew. Just the head felt bigger than the knots that were pressed against your hole all night. He was huge. You wondered if you'd break. But he kept pushing in, pressing himself deeper than you ever thought possible, the cum from all the other making the slide easier.

The alpha growled as his cock hit resistance, pushing you head down unto the tree trunk. "I let all my wolves use you tonight. You will take me to the hilt."

You wailed as he bullied his cock deeper, with stronger thrusts than all the other before. Your hole was stretched beyond what you thought was even possible, clenching around his dick and the small protrusion of his knot. He chuckled slightly, pushing deeper. "There you go. Such a perfect cunt for us. I'm sure you'd like to pleasure us even outside of the full moon. Still so tight, trying to milking my cock."

The alpha pushed you down on the tree trunk, a clawed hand pressing into your skin, threatening to pierce if you moved. The other kept your hips raised as he started a brutal pace, Everytime he thrusted into you, your breath was punched out of you lungs from the savage pressure inside of you. It wasn't long before you wailed on his cock, gripping him in a vice grip as you came, being overstimulated and begging for him to slow down. But he ignored you.

"C'mon, you're our bitch now, we can use you however we want. And right now I want you to milk my knot as much as possible before I fuck you again and again." the alpha said as he thrusted even deeper, making you cry out as you came again, the third time in a handful of minutes on his massive cock.

As he kept pounding into you, releasing pleased grunts into the night, you could feel something change. Everytime he bottomed out, a pressure was pressed against your hole, insistent, constant. You had felt knots from the other werewolves, but nothing like this. It felt so big. So thick. As your insides were bullied into giving you another orgasm you could faintly think of what that would mean.

You only felt fully inflated knots before from all the other werewolves. They were thick and could've slipped right into you as they came over and over again. But this? It felt bigger than a fist, bigger than anything you had ever taken inside of you, and you were just gangbanged by a pack of werewolves. It kept pressing against you with more and more strength, harder thrusts, wanting to bury itself inside you as the alpha panted over your shoulder, repeating how good you are for him, how tight you still are after taking all of his pack.

A last thrust punched all the oxygen out of your lungs as the biggest thing you ever taken was shoved inside you and kept inflating.

You wailed and thrashed as the alpha kept you in place, bullying his knot in and out of your tight hole even as you wailed in pleasure, tears running down your face as hot cum filled the limited remaining space in your hole, the knot so big it was stopping anything from spilling out, no cum would be wasted while you were knotted on the alpha's cock.

He bent down and licked your cheek when the torrent of cum finally stopped, comforting you. "If you think we're done yet, the full moon is not even at half mast in the sky. I'll keep using you until I'm bored, and I'll let the pack use you as they want until I'm ready to go again."

#werewolves #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #teratophillia #monsterfucker #first original post! yay!

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ghcstao3 · 3 months ago

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(part 2) (cw fictional drugs, mild body horror, mild torture)

Shifters should be born, not made. That’s one of few things that science has been able to say for certain about the biology (and ethics) of the species.

Of course, this never stopped those truly motivated—for a few years now, there’s been a serum circulating black markets and cartels and terrorist rings, a dangerous, potent thing that allows for the temporary rewrite of human DNA; for just a handful of hours, this serum allows any non-shifter to gain a shifter’s abilities, often with the goal of making them stronger, deadlier when it comes to picking off their enemies.

Obviously, this serum comes with a few cons: a human cannot determine what animal a serum will give them until it is taken, and because its effects are only temporary, the substance becomes highly addictive. One taste is never enough—but after so many continuous uses, the drug’s effects change into something far more sinister. Potentially fatal; one might lose their mind if they’re lucky, or become some deformed half-thing stuck between human and animal if they’re not.

There’s a reason, scientists will say, that sometimes genetics, DNA is not to be tampered with to such extreme lengths.

But with this serum comes a rumour: somewhere out there exists a more permanent solution, a serum to completely change someone, to make a shifter. Something so strong that it can transform a person, though at a high risk of something going wrong.

This serum does exist, and certainly does hold a risk of things going wrong—the survival rate within days of injection is a measly 5%. The human body is not built to withstand the force of fundamental change, though some prevail; unfortunately, however, often enough they don’t survive long enough afterwards to meet the full potential of their new abilities.

And not necessarily because of the change itself—but rather because the people creating these abnormalities will often decide to erase their existences, once past their use and novelty. If this new creature cannot be leashed, there’s no point in keeping it, no point in allowing it to go free and revel in its newfound talents.

When Simon Riley doesn’t break the way Manuel Roba wants him to, he becomes a victim of this serum. He’s informed, in spite of his torture-induced delirium, that this injection will put him down one way or another—be it through the pain, the incompatibility with his body, or through his expired usefulness after Roba has beaten him into submission in whatever form Simon is blessed with.

The serum feels like hot, molten, infernal flame has been injected directly into Simon’s veins, searing his body from the inside out. The first wave of pain arrives in a flash, has him writhing on the ground as his muscles lock up and he’s gasping for breath to fill lungs already burned to ash. Throat closing up, bones grinding together, the ripping of flesh. He can’t scream. Can’t claw at himself until he’s bloody and raw and dead.

It just goes on.

Roba’s laughter rings through the cold, impersonal laboratory, four cement walls and a cracked floor, the reeking, cloying scent of mildew and rust and failed experiments—it’s all that Simon’s world has narrowed down to until he blacks out in his anguish.

When he wakes, everything is wrong.

Simon’s more than disoriented, though that’s hardly a surprise. But beyond that, beyond the usual aches and sores and bruises—the red of the bloodstained floor is dull, too dull, and his limbs don’t feel like his own. His brain is a fog, simultaneously exhausted and alert, and his tongue sits heavy in his mouth—Simon rolls over, sluggish, his tongue sliding languidly with gravity, picking over teeth sharper than he remembers them being.

The bars of his cell rumble open, the rattle reverberating through Simon’s body.

Wrong. All wrong, wrong, wrong.

It takes effort to lift his gaze, to meet Roba’s own where he stands in the doorway. Simon’s eyelids droop, weighed down by nothing he can discern, and all he can make out through the slits of leftover vision is that smarmy grin and those beady, oil-black eyes.

Roba grins wider when Simon stirs, shifting stiff muscles in a fool’s errand of attempting to sit up.

“I knew you would survive, English,” he says. Simon’s ear twitches. “Welcome to the first day of your new life.”

Roba’s footsteps are loud, grating in their approach. He crouches in front of Simon’s prone form, regarding him in a way Simon has been plenty subject to—always displeased in some capacity, sometimes for known reasons and sometimes not, but also plotting, envisioning the next methods he might use to drill obedience into the soldier, to rearrange his anatomy, to fuck irreparably with his head.

With a sigh Roba reaches into his breast pocket to fish something out, some antique compact with engravings on the lid that Simon is in no state to decipher. He opens it with a muted click, then holds it in front of Simon’s face with something akin to a sick glee woven into his expression.

What stares back at Simon is not human.

#trying something out lol #any thoughts appreciated #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #shifter au #alternate universe #writing

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katebishopsbow · 1 year ago

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SWEET LIKE HONEY • OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x reader (18+)

summary: oscar was feeling ill from a nasty cold, but you couldn't resist kissing him. not wanting to get you sick as well, you both agreed on one kiss only, that's it. so why couldn't you two seem to stop?

tags: sexual content (minors dni), sub!oscar, kissing, grinding, reader being a tease

word count: 1.2k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The sleepless nights full of overtime team meetings, hectic schedules that never seemed to stop, and grueling training sessions that drained every last bit of his energy finally had Oscar succumbing to exhaustion. Which is why the Australian driver was currently spending his rare day off in bed with “Killing Eve” playing in the background, suffering from a rather nasty cold.

It’s times like these that made him wish he had cherished those days when he was in good health – when his throat didn’t hurt every time he swallowed and his nose wasn’t running like the damned Niagara Falls. And it’s times like these that made him especially grateful for having you by his side, taking care of him and providing him with all the affection he needed for a speedy recovery.

“You feeling any better, Osc?” you asked when you walked into his room with a cup of hot honey water – a cold remedy your mother had always made for you growing up. Your boyfriend’s tired eyes lifted to meet yours, and his rosy cheeks and pouty lips looked so adorable that all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and suffocate him with kisses.

He nodded before sitting up slightly to take the cup from your hands, taking a few careful sips of the comfortingly sweet drink. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered appreciatively with a weak smile, leaning into the warmth of your palms when you reached your hands to caress his cheeks.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be having thoughts like this, but when you watched your boyfriend’s tongue delicately sweep across his lips to lick off the honey from the drink, it felt like your mind had gone completely blank. So you did the most obvious thing and leaned forward to give him a kiss – just a quick one – but your boyfriend’s eyes snapped open as he hurriedly pulled away.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna get sick like this…” he said to you worriedly, not wanting to give whatever illness he had to you. He had already felt terrible enough as it was, the last thing he needed was to see you getting sick because of him. “I’m strong enough, I think I can handle a few kisses. Besides, how can I resist when your lips taste like honey?” you shrugged with a light chuckle as you tried reaching for another kiss, but Oscar turned his head at the last second so that your lips landed on his cheeks instead, earning a playful protest from you.

While he wanted more than anything to give you all the kisses you craved, to have your lips on him as you kissed all his pain away, the thought of making you sick just didn't seem worth it. “I don’t want to see you getting ill because of me, babe,” he tried to reason with you, endearingly tilting your chin up with his fingertips so that you were looking at him. That was a mistake, because gazing into his eyes – those eyes you could spend hours getting lost in – only seemed to make the urge to kiss him stronger.

“Just one kiss, Oscar, pleaseeeee,” you whined at your boyfriend, pouting in feigned sadness while you snuggled up to him and nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent that was Oscar Piastri. There was no way Oscar could have said no to you – not when you had looked so beautiful in his embrace. “Just one,” he muttered quietly, and that was all the permission you needed to lean forward and place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

Oscar leaned into the kiss eagerly, realizing just how much he had missed this as his hands wandered over your sides. He had every intention to pull away before things could get overboard, trying so hard to remember his promise of “just one kiss”. But when you got up to straddle his lap, your fingers threading around his hair and tugging it with just enough force to cause tingles of satisfying pain on his scalp – all sense of self-restraint he possessed went straight out the window, and all he wanted was to surrender himself to you.

His hands glided down your waist with a sense of urgency as he pulled you in closer, opening his mouth willingly to welcome the intrusion of your tongue. The kiss was fervent, filled with entwined breaths and desperate touches – a stark contrast to the one you had shared moments ago. As you pulled away momentarily to mouth along his neck, claiming him as yours with each delicate swipe of your tongue, Oscar couldn’t resist grinding his hips against you as he called out your name in a breathy whine.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?” you couldn’t help but tease the boy’s growing desperation, and for a quick second you almost felt like you were being too mean – until you heard the needy moan that escaped from between his lips, “Baby, please… ” His pleas sounded like music to your ears, and you took a moment to take in the sight of him squirming and moaning before you – so pliable, so precious, so good for you.

Smirking at what he had said to you, you began shifting your hips in slow, unhurried circles over his growing hardness below as you whispered teasingly in his ears, “I thought you said one kiss only?” Oscar grumbled upon hearing your condescending words, “You’re such a tease. Please, I want more…”

“Yeah? You want more, baby?” you asked him, hot breath fanning against his spit-slickened lips. “Please… I need you,” he managed to choke out, letting out another obscene moan when you nibbled on the sensitive spot below his earlobe. He wanted more of you, needed more of you – your heated kisses, your scorching touch, and your intoxicating presence that fuelled an insatiable hunger within him.

And all of a sudden you were gone, climbing off of him like you weren’t just grinding yourself against him seconds ago. “Wh – what? What’re you doing?” he questioned dumbfoundedly, staring at you with his mouth agape in complete confusion. “What do you mean? You said one kiss only, didn’t you?” you answered matter-of-factly with the most sincere, angelic smile you could manage, and Oscar genuinely thought that he was going to die of frustration as he stared disbelievingly at you.

Running a finger along his chin, you traced intricate patterns on his pale skin before telling him, “Drink the honey water, get recovered, and I promise you I’ll give you all the kisses you want… and maybe even something more.” You passed the cup to him, planted a chaste kiss on his forehead, and left the room after shooting him a suggestive wink.

Oscar took a gulp from the cup, cringing at the uncomfortable tightness in his pants you left him with as he let out an exasperated sigh. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut

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imisssummer · 9 months ago

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MEANNNN non con w dom geto n fem reader. I’m talkin rough, degrading, sadism, all that good shit

Ofcofc no pressure Tyty 🫶

𖤐 — nsfw, non-con/rape, degradation, asphyxiation, i went w student suguru bc he’s best suguru, hope this lives up to anon’s expectations!!!

Suguru would say he’s a fairly blunt man, he’s curt when he needs to be, cunning when it’s necessary— in other words, he likes to have the last laugh.

So really you shouldn’t be that surprised as he pushes you into an empty classroom, near the back of the jujutsu school. You’re shoved to your ass, on top of an old and dusty school desk, Geto is scary as he looks down at you with heavy, dark eyes, an unreadable emotion in the stare, but you know he’s mad when he opens his mouth to speak,

“what gives you the right to embarrass me, slut?”

You stir at the brash name, snapping your head up to look at the dark-haired man with fierce, wide eyes, and you can’t quite bite your tongue when you see the smirk forming on his face at your reaction, clearly getting the one he wanted.

“Excuse me-” you’re cut off by your own gasp, as Suguru pushes you to your back on top of the desk, not wasting any time in flipping up your school skirt, pulling at your panties, and slapping hard at your thighs as you begin to thrash them. He drops the lacey fabric to the floor, to grind his clothed cock over your bare pussy, and with nearly all of Geto’s weight on you, you can’t move to get away from his body— from his cock.

“Get off of me-” you’re cut off once more, this time by a sharp, stinging slap to you cheek. Your face flys to the side at the slight force, lips pressed in a small frown, and eyes slowly filling with hot tears. You can’t fight him, he’s the stronger sorcerer, and you know that.

You find yourself snapping out of your subtle trance, as you feel something, warm and thick, nudging at your pussy. Your choked as you feel, see, and hear, Suguru’s harsh thrust into you. You feel yourself about to scream out, but a strong hand collars around your neck, gripping harshly, and stealing every last breath from you.

“Shut up.” He spits out with malice, hand tightening around you, oxen eyes sharping to daggers, “or I’ll make you bled.”

You sob at the indication, hands making way to his warm hand around her neck, grip weak from the lightheadedness, vision going spotty, you gasp a soft, “please.”

He gives you a mere breath of air, just to strangle you harder than ever, yet he slows his hips. Lengthy fingers pulling at your dress shirt, exposing your chest to his greedy eyes, and he wastes no time in leaning down to suck deep, dark hickeys into your skin.

Using the leverage from choking you, he begins fucking into you once more, he’s splitting you open on his cock, pussy trying to take in every aching inch, as best as possible. When he hits particularly deep, he tightens his jaw, as well as his grip around your, no doubt, brushed neck, and you feel closer than ever to passing out.

Your head begins to slump back against the desk, the hard wood now comfortable to lay on, as your vision goes foggy. Your head throbs as it drops, there’s a dull ache that’d soon turn to a headache, your flipped to ur stomach by the time you come to your senses, hips digging uncomfortably as your dangled on the wood. There’s a grip on your waist, followed by a loud slap to your ass, hand smoothly going over the reddening flesh, needing the area he pushes into you again.

You feel gross, sweaty, and so so violated. The sounds of Suguru’s voice is muffled as you try and zone out, failing as you hear his harsh words, calling you nothing but a ‘stupid whore,’ as he has his way with you. Slapping your ass, he starts his brutal pace once more, this time searching for his pleasure in your pussy.

You soon feel him pull out of you, warm cum is on you from your lower back to your ass, and before you realize it the classroom door is closing as Suguru leaves like nothing happened, and your too exhausted to care.

masterlist

#geto suguru smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #limited 🏷️’s bc this ain’t ao3

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st-danger · 1 year ago

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Please please please please a single ficlet expanding on Predator Aeon and “prey” Swiss! 🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏

If he listens, really listens- not just with his ears, but with little tendrils of quintessence that he plucks out of the air and extends forward- he can hear just how loud Swiss's heart is racing. The stretch of his lungs when he draws a breath.

Swiss has to pause; Aeon can feel how hard he's been working, how much energy he's expended on the chase so far, and he bends over, hands on his knees, panting. Gold eyes darting around in the darkness of the woods, trying to be alert and aware for any tip off that Aeon is close.

He is.

Less than fifteen feet away, if that. A generous estimate. Aeon leans against a tree and strokes the rough bark of it, a self-soothing little gesture. He's so keyed up now, trying his best to conceal his own laboured breaths, though they stem more from excitement and less from exhaustion. Aeon can run, and he has been, but he hasn't been running the way Swiss has, desperate to keep enough distance between them where he's just far enough out of reach where Aeon cannot spin magick around him.

Alas.

Aeon squints, focusing, and caresses the air with two thin fingers. Swiss grunts with surprise, bats at the back of his neck to shake off an imaginary touch, and ends up stumbling over his own feet, falling forward in the process. The full moon above reflects enough light down on them, and the tension it doesn't show, Aeon can feel anyway. Can smell.

"Cheap shot," Swiss calls out, to the forest around him. He can't see where Aeon is; he's put too much into melting into the shadows, and Swiss's attention darts around too quickly to see anything. If he'd been calmer, he might have caught the strange distortion by the tree, the weird, warbling ink beside it.

Alas.

Throwing the disguise off like a jumper onto the floor, Aeon pounces.

He's on him before Swiss has time to turn around, to realize where the sound of feet against leaves and twigs comes from, and Aeon has him shoved into the forest floor quickly, forcing a grunt from Swiss as the air is knocked out of him. A hand on the back of his neck, straddling, pressing- Aeon sits fat in his pants. He's been excited since this started, but now that he has Swiss's exhausted, struggling form underneath him, he's filling out in earnest with little ceremony. Grinding it into his back while he struggles to keep Swiss down.

"No, no," Aeon laughs, breathless and ecstatic, "stay down buddy." He tries his best to hold him, he really does- he had been hoping to wear him out a little more, get him tired out, get those strong legs tired so he wouldn't be able to kick the way he's doing now. He usually likes to draw it out more. Subconsciously he must really have been wanting a fight. Swiss flails, grunting, trying to reach back and swat at him, kick his legs out from under Aeon's slinky frame, but the weight of him, the quintessence licking into his brain telling him to relax, to let go, to give up gives Aeon a chance. "Got you," he tells Swiss. "I won."

"Haven't won shit yet," Swiss manages, still trying to throw him off, wiggle free, drag himself away.

Aeon adores him for so very many reasons. Getting his money's worth from these hunts is one of them.

"Gonna fuck you," Aeon groans, and presses himself flush against his back so he can grind his cock against Swiss's ass. Make him feel what this has done to him, what he's going to take. The smell of rich, damp earth gets stronger as they disturb the forest floor, kicking and smearing the dirt, and the heady combination of it combined with the desperation Swiss is throwing off makes Aeon a little woozy. "Gonna give me my prize?" Punctuates the question by reaching down and grabbing a handful of Swiss's ass, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable.

It's a miscalculation.

The shift in weight is enough for Swiss to shrug out from under, rearing back sharp and sudden, and Aeon is thrown on to his back, trapping his own leg beneath him. It's a solid connection against the dirt, and the sense of loss he feels when Swiss slides from his grasp is devastating. Panicky, he reaches for Swiss, swiping to grab a shoulder, a shirt, to touch him long enough to force some magick into his body to stun him long enough to get a chance to clamber on top once more.

The slap comes as a surprise, a firm crack against his cheek from a large, warm hand that makes him gasp, stunning him long enough to shift the balance. Swiss is on him in a second, a hand on his throat, choking, holding. Aeon claws at his forearm, writhing underneath the weight of the thick thighs bracketing his frame.

"What a nasty piece of work you are," Swiss huffs, while Aeon kicks and wheezes for breath he does not get.

Aeon may be fast, and he might have quintessence on his side, but Swiss is strong. Swiss has enough quintessence flowing through his mish-mash of elements to recognize it, to brush it off like crumbs on a table. Another slap to his face and Aeon whimpers with it, desperate to breathe. A more seasoned ghoul could still work magick in a situation like this, he's sure, but Aeon can't find the concentration to will anything to happen. Swiss is choking him, humping him- Aeon can feel him thick and blood hot through his thin track pants, rubbing himself against Aeon's body the way he'd been doing to Swiss moments before.

Aeon taps frantically at Swiss's forearm, and Swiss releases his throat. Aeon coughs, fiending for breath, sucking deep lungfuls until Swiss leans forward and shoves their mouths together, forcing his tongue deeper than Aeon is ready for, licking in until Aeon is grabbing at his shirt to keep him near.

"Need it bad," Swiss growls, and Aeon isn't sure if he's speaking to him, or voicing his own desire aloud. He isn't sure it matters. Not really. There's a hand in his hair, a hand gripping his face, his chin so hard it hurts. "C'mon you little cunt." Another grind of their dicks together and Aeon's brain short-circuits, heart hammering away while he goes dizzy. "C'mon and give it up, pretty boy."

"Make me," Aeon says, because he can. Because there's still some fight left in them both even if there isn't much. Swiss's tongue is back in his mouth, cutting off any further challenges. Deep, wet strokes, tasting him like he means to wholly consume, fingers digging into his jaw and dimpling the skin. Trying to wriggle simply leads Swiss to lay even more of his weight upon him until he's pressed so close Aeon is back to struggling to draw a full breath.

Swiss eases up only when Aeon's struggling gets weaker, and even then, it's only for a moment. As easy as moving a pillow on a bed, Swiss climbs off, throws him onto his stomach.

"Thought you'd try a little harder," Swiss scoffs, and Aeon flushes when Swiss settles behind him, grabs his hips, and forces his ass up, grabbing the elastic waistband and yanking them down, exposing him. His face is hot, thighs trembling while his cock bounces all on it's own in search of some friction. Swiss wolf-whistles when Aeon clenches, unable to stop himself, giving him a show. "Arch all pretty for me," he demands and Aeon does. When Swiss spreads him, leans down and spits onto his hole-

Well. Winning is fun, of course, but the fingertip prodding at him, petting a very private, sensitive spot while he leaks precum onto the ground...

Losing isn't half bad, either.

#st-speaks #the band ghost #ghost #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss/aeon #swiss x aeon #swiss/phantom #swiss x phantom

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yellowcry · 1 month ago

Text

Ignore the fear and you'll be fine

Mountainsn around encanto were big, strong. Able to hold everything in their arms without a smallest crack.

@encantober-official prompt - Mountain

She's the strong one. And she's definitely not nervous at all.

It was what Luisa did, who she was. The one who could take on every burden like it weighted nothing. No matter how heavy it was or when invisible weight on her shoulders threaten to collapse on Luisa, turning her into dust, grinding against the ground. She could handle it. The weight was never a problem. Besides, who if not she? Luisa was strong, the toughest metal would be turned into chips between her fingers. She probably could juggle with buildings if she wanted to. But Luisa didn't really have time for that and definitely didn't have time to clean the mess it would cause. And spending time on nothing was stupid and pointless. Even more so when Luisa rarely had a spare minute. Her work schedule was very tight. .

She couldn’t let herself hesitate, make a single mistake. The mountains towered around her. Hard and unbulky. Holding back whatever could await them outside. The first line of since she was a little girl. Being strong meant she could defend her family. In a sense, she liked to imagine herself like one of the mountains around the place. She was strong and could take everything upon her. There was no place to rest, hard and solid skin could withstand any issue.

It was her job, her purpose. Engraved in gold all these years ago. And Luisa must live up to it. The weight of mountains threatened to crush her shoulders. Yet, she remained standing. Easily stacking more weight above herself. Drowning in expectation without making a sound. Even if her body sometimes felt like it was about to collapse. Luisa had no problem with anything. She could carry it without breaking a sweat. Regardless of how exhausted she was (And who would give a fuck about her anyway if she wasn’t helpful?) It wasn’t like the heaviest weight in the universe could bother her. (Or maybe it did, but she couldn’t really tell anyone). She lived being helpful, even if somethimes the weight piled up a bit too much to be confortable. Threating to fall down

The mountains stood tall and proud, closing around their tiny village. Safe away from any possible danger. Like giants sleeping around them, rough bodies lay down to protect them. Nobody could get in between their watchful gaze. No way in. The stoney guardians locked them where nobody could reach. They could sleep peacefully, not worrying about the outside world. And Luisa really hoped it would stay this way. No need to worry about something bad on the outside if it can't get it.

Because if it did... Luisa would be the next mountain on their way. It wasn't something people said out loud, but a common knowledge. Something so obvious nobody had actually bother to confirm it. Because, well, Luisa was strong. Stronger than any person to ever live, she was the one able to defeat every threat. The idea of being protector was shaped in her mind probably as long as Luisa could remember herself. Taking one look at her little sister was enough for Luisa to know. She had to keep the little one in her arms, cuddled in warm safety. (Well, it wasn't like this. Luisa had no time). And then getting her gift only secured this thought. Luisa could survive anything and she wouldn't be brought down.

Or she hoped so. The mountains surrounding Encanto were big. And there were many of them. Luisa was only one, and she couldn't be everywhere at once. So if the greater hills would be defeated, what chance did she have? She was strong compared to people, yes. But in reference to the power of these cliffs, Luisa was merely anything. And if she didn't manage to protect everyone, if something bad had happened and she didn't manage to stop it... Luisa wasn't sure how she would live with herself like this. With this heavy guilt that would follow her everywhere. Because she was Encanto's protector. Always strong and unbothered. Never allowing herself to falter for a split second. She didn't have time to think or question. Just push forward and carry whatever they ask.

Except that sometimes Luisa felt worry chewing her. Fear of something hurting people she cared about. She might not be very close to her family, but the idea of them being hurt made Luisa want to throw her guts out. She was supposed to protect then from whatever would happen. What she would do with herself if she failed? This pressure was heavier than anything else, keeping Luisa restless. Being the family's protector, the one who was stonger than crush of the Earth meant it was up to her. No mistakes could be made, Luisa was the strongest person to live at all.

The fact that it was Luisa's job to protect everyone was unvearable to hold. Way harder than any church. Because it wasn't just some ordinary job (without which everyone would think she's useless). But it was something that costed a human life. The fact that if Luisa wasn't enough, then somebody could die was suffocating. It was a constant weight on her shoulders. The pressure of being the one to protect everyone, a hero in a shining cape. And the horror of failure. What would happen if she could just watch someone dying but was unable to help? How could Luisa live with such a guilt and knowledge she didn’t help when it mattered the most?

#encanto #luisa madrigal #fanfic #ao3 author #encantober #encantober mountain

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 2 months ago

Note

This time! Githyanki Tav who is AMAB! (Let this one be anti Vlaakith and is different from most Githyanki)

Tav has Rolan pinned down. Rolan powerless to him. Tav may be slender, have spots, and overall stands out in Baldur’s Gate but Rolan thinks he’s beautiful.

The way Tav holds his face those reptilian like eyes staring into his ( in fact their pupils are shaped like nocturnal geckos for example the Tokay Gecko) and those pointed teeth, everything is beautiful about him. Rolan moans softly as his body is caressed and touched by the Gith and he shivers feeling those long nails touch his bare nipples and circle them. Then Tav uses those long nails to gently touch his skin. Sending shivers in his spine.

The wizard wants more and Tav has the nerve to straddle Rolan’s bulge as he grinds against him.

Finally, Rolan gets relief and Tav having clipped his nails fingers Rolan stretching him and stroking his walls all the while he’s sucking the wizard off. Two complete different sensations that nearly drives him crazy. He’s on the edge of cumming when Tav stops, he whines for more tears in his eyes.

Tav soon plunges his cock in him. Despite being slender built, he’s stronger than he looks. Rolan is pounded ruthlessly crying out from the strong thrusts and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. His leaking cock bobbing as he cries for more and Tav takes hold of his tail and licks the tip and kisses it.

Rolan screams as he cums and Tav spills inside him. Rolan nearly passing out from the intense orgasm his twitches are a delight as Tav pulls out and gently takes care of him and the two cuddle. Rolan couldn’t be happier (and more worn out) hehe

🐎

Ohhhhhh FUCK. Rolan at the mercy of that wiry Gith strength, gasping as he feels Tav’s iron grip around his wrists. Both of them mistrusted and misunderstood by others - and by each other, at first - but now they’re together, none of that matters. Tav’s still exploring Rolan’s body, finding out new ways to make him scream - but his tail is one of the best. Running his nails and sharp teeth over it, teasing it, pulling it - Rolan’s quivering and then shaking, submitting to his pounding so eagerly Tav can barely keep himself from coming. But he doesn’t want this to be quick. He wants Rolan to be a drooling, moaning puddle of bliss, before he finally fills him with his cum.

And then Rolan cuddling onto Tav’s chest afterwards, exhausted, cum leaking down his thighs - his tail twisted tight around Tav’s ankle, keeping them close. Not like Tav was going anywhere fast; fucked-out Rolan is his favourite. He brushes the hair off Rolan’s face and holds him tight, until Rolan falls asleep in his arms

#cabbage answers #rolan #bg3 rolan #bottom!rolan #I’ve never had to Google a gecko for an ask before but by god I did it #<3 #🐎 anon #thank you <3

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

Text

"It's Been Almost A Year." Leslie Vernon X GN! Final/Survivor Reader.

I missed Leslie. I rewatched BTM today and got this out. I hope you are all into it, not much else to say but this was fun as fuck to do. Enjoy it!

—

Rating. Somewhat NSFW. Length. 2.8K. Leslie Vernon X GN! Final/Survivor Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Slasher/Final Person Relationship. Breaking And Entering. Complex Emotions. Hard Feelings. Reader Is Traumatised And Confused And Mad. Leslie Being Leslie. Stalking. Mentions Of Violence And Gore. Choking. Softness. Grinding. Implied Hate Fucking. Praise.

—

You had a long day and frankly were quite exhausted. Dinner was quick and dirty, made in a rush and eaten early, after leaving the dishes to soak, you retreated to your bed.

The sheets are fresh and soft, you are stripping off your pants and hoodie before you are sliding into the welcoming comfort. The bedroom is dark save for the flickering light of your tv. You had put on a movie, not wanting to sleep quite yet. You have a steaming mug of tea on your bedside table and are curled up, the t-shirt, underwear and socks you have on are more than enough to keep you cosy and warm. You settle further into the multiple layers of your sheets and comforter and throw blankets with a pleased sigh. Fall is here in full force and you are feeling it. The temperature is cold but you can't feel it right now, nor can you resist having the window cracked so you can hear the rain falling outside.

You really didn’t mean to fall asleep so early. You were just so thoroughly relaxed and so tuckered out from the day's events it just kind of happens. The dvd’s menu was on loop, the gentle music from it playing quietly, it is raining harder, but that isn’t what is the main concern at the moment, no the biggest thing taking your attention is that you apparently are no longer alone in your bed. The body next to you is warm, arms around you are strong, the smell hits and it makes your stomach drop. You know that smell, intimately. You remember the night you smelt it for the first time. Rain and damp soil, sweat, musk, apples and more, the whiff you got filled your nose during your struggle, one of his hands in your hair, the other one he was using, attempting to embed his sickle into your body.

The smell haunted you.

Permeated your nightmares and now it was in your bed. Were you having a nightmare? A really convincing one, you start to try and move, the arms hold you tighter, snaking closer, the grip is firm and you hear a hum followed by him shhhing you, “Hey, hey, no need to get up.”

Your eyes open, the light from the tv is still covering the room in its low and easy glow, your tea is cold, the temperature has dropped and even with the window open it now feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Leslie.” You breathe it out, terrified and he responds just a hair louder than you do, “Yes?”

A hard swallow, the terror is thick, it weighs on you, as if a person is sitting on your chest with their whole weight and you ask, “What are you doing in my bed?”

“You don’t sound happy to see me.” You don’t like or appreciate the deflection. You frown deeply and you force out, “No, I’m not.”

The silence stretches between you, music from the tv and rain from outside intermingling, your heart is hammering in your chest, sweat is making your clothes start to stick to your skin. How the fuck are you going to get out of this? You hadn’t seen him since that night and now he was in your bed, all over you, wrapped around you, threatening to suffocate you with his presence alone. Your mind is screaming at you to do something, get out, run away but to where? You are barely dressed, it’s pouring rain outside, he is stronger and faster, he could have a concealed weapon.

Endless questions, no answers, you can’t make an informed decision yet. For now you are stuck. Helpless. You have to wait this out.

“I missed you, okay? I was feeling lonely tonight.”

A guy, no, not a guy, not a man, don’t think of him in human terms, a monster like him gets lonely? The idea of it is strange. Your mind thinks of him in other scenarios, of him doing regular daily life things, cooking, laundry, paying bills and it just doesn’t feel right. It is like your mind refuses to accept it, the idea that someone like him is out in the world, and doing any of those things is so against all you believe that you reject the concept. It serves to turn your stomach. You don’t like lingering on it because it means that any number of people out there that you see in a day could be just like him, a murderer lurking under the surface.

There are only ever thoughts of him in the context of that night, of that killer persona, permanently tied to that, irrevocably damaging your perception of him, tainting it thoroughly. It was as if he didn’t exist, not really, not to you anyway, even though he stalked and followed you for God knows how long before you were not aware of him until very soon before that night almost a year ago, it was like he was simply blipped into existence for those hours of torment and tore away right afterwards. Ripped from the fabric of reality but you were still left with the aftermath, the memories, left with nightmares and trauma, with scars and fear that never truly left.

You had been doing okay, for a short while but with the year anniversary encroaching you were scared shitless of what it could mean. Would he make a return, force you into a “sequel”? You feared some huge or grand reveal, dramatic and massive but not this, you never expected this, to wake up on an average night, less than a month out from the anniversary with him in your fucking bed. This is arguably so much worse.

Your one real remaining safe space has been invaded by him. You think if you make it out alive that maybe you should burn the fucking mattress and buy a new one. Move somewhere else, far away, a different country, maybe you could go to Canada? It’s similar enough, isn’t it?

Mind has been running so quickly that when you respond to him it is only about thirty seconds later, “You know they have hotlines you can call for that problem, right?”

He laughs, he is so close you feel the rumble of it in his chest against your back, “Like any of them can be a substitute for you. Hilarious.” He says it in such a sweet tone, as if you are old friends or you suppose in this case, with how he is holding you while between the sheets, lovers. “Being with you is much more stimulating. No phone sex jockey could ever hope to imitate what we have.”

You are stuck on that, on him saying “what we have”. What the fuck did you have? You guessed you and he had a relationship truly unlike any other you have with anyone else but-

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long, planning out our next meeting, following you, watching you, but tonight, it just became too much, you know?”

He is talking so much. You aren’t used to it. When he was masked up he was so quiet, barely made a sound even during your fight.

He is moving, propping up on one elbow, his other arm still around you, keeping you to him as he says, “I saw you get into bed and at first it was okay. I just watched the movie you had on through the window, it was good, like I was watching it WITH you.”

His hand turns your face, the contact makes a chill run up your spine and you see him for the first time since that night but it’s different. When he had that mask off his features were streaked with makeup, twisted with anger and hate, malice, deep and method into his killer self. Now he is clean, bare faced, and he is looking down at you with what you could only really pinpoint as warmth, care, affection. How can he look at you like that after hurting you so much? Or is it because he wounded you so deeply that he could?

That night back then, his eyes looked black, lost in the smudgy rings of grease paint like you couldn’t tell where he began and the facade ended, but now in the low light you see that they are brown. His eyes are brown. You don’t know how to feel about that, about any of this.

“But then the movie ended and I went back to just watching you. So unaware I was here, sleeping so soundly.” His brow is creased, lips parted, he is studying you, as if he cannot believe that he is in your bed as much as you can’t. “I just wondered, why am I waiting around? Why am I not in there with you?”

His thumb is running down over your cheekbone and you squirm, “You make me reckless, I want to rush, abandon previously carefully laid plans to be near you. It’s a compulsion.”

The softness of how he says his words combined with the action wakes you up out of the apparent trance you were under, reminding you of just how awful and wrong this all was. “Leslie. Stop. You can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He asks quietly and you feel the anger break through the terror, feel it boil and you exclaim, struggling against him, “Because it’s fucked up!”

You say it so loudly but he doesn’t flinch, as if expecting you to lash out.

“This is all supremely fucked up! You-you tried to kill me almost a year ago, you nearly gut me, split me from end to end and now you are back an-and in my room, holding me, saying all this sentimental crap, it-it’s so fucked up. I don’t know how I am supposed to react, what am I meant to do?!”

Quiet falls again after your small rant. You are heaving, shaking slightly. You have no idea what his response will be but it isn’t what he says next, “What do you want from me?”

You feel tired. Heavy. Exasperated, You answer. “For you to leave me alone.”

He scoffs, a roll of his eyes. “That isn’t going to happen.”

You want to cry, you squirm again, urgency renewed by his omission and you asked frantically, “Why not?!”

His hand, the same one that was lovingly stroking your face a minute ago is on your throat, holding you down, it makes you stop instantly. He leaned down closer, “Because, honey, sweetheart, we are meant to be in each other's lives until one of us dies and further than that, whoever is left is meant to be haunted by the other.”

You hang off every word because you have no other choice. The helpless and captive audience as he expounds, “Even if I were to humour your request, leave you be, you know just as well as I do you would never truly be free of me.”

His other arm is moved, he is still resting on his elbow but his hand is free, fingers pass feather light over your forehead, a stark contrast from how firmly he was holding your throat. “I live in that pretty little head. I’ve set up camp and ‘M never leaving. I permanently changed you just like you did to me. It’s mutual.”

Mutual. As if anything you could have done to him is in any way comparable to what he has done to you. He is sick, twisted, disgusting. You hate him. You hate how he is right. You just know that even if he fucked off forever you would still check the backseat of your car before getting in it, would still not want to be out after dark, would still have the nightmares and fear that he’d come back. He would still rule your thoughts, control and dictate your life even if he is absent from it. There was no true coming back from what he put you through.

The innocence is gone.

“I know you feel it too, feel different after that night, a new version of you. It’s been so difficult watching from afar but not experiencing it up close, I was expecting more of a fight when I did this but to be fair, I did get the drop on you. This is usually ol Kruegers MO, not mine.”

He stops himself to wonder out loud and amused, “Do you think he’d mind me borrowing it?”

“I don’t care! I don’t fucking care about your weird murderous friends Vernon-” You bite out and he ignores what you say and he is back on you, eyes flick back down, grip tightens, steals your breath, “I have to admit though, this is nice. This is what I really want, the ultimate goal.”

Ultimate goal? Isn’t the ultimate goal to kill you? Where is he going with this?

“I want you to accept and come to terms with the fact that you’re mine”

Accept? Come to terms with? He talks like it is already done and decided, written in stone, immovable.

He reads the confusion in your gaze and fills in the blank, “Because you are already mine.”

That makes the anger return full force, he smiles, wicked and twisted, “Like it or not we are bonded together.”

You didn’t like it.

He told you more, that you lived under his skin, occupied his waking days and sleepless nights, pushed him in his work more and more and during this, the movements were subtle. He was totally on top of you now. Propped up on one hand, his other one still around your throat, slotted between your legs, minute movements of his hips and your breath catches. His grip loosens, the blankets and sheets have pooled near your hips, your shirt has ridden up during his forced cuddle session with you, his eyes are down and you don’t need to guess where he is looking.

You know, you can feel his gaze resting on the scar he gave you, the sharp and jagged line that took almost twenty stitches to close up. You gave him a similarly gruesome and terrible wound but his was not on display right now. You feel exposed by this fact, naked and vulnerable, the brutality he inflicted on you on display but his is hidden away. It feels weirdly poetic. The rolling of his hips is more bold, you are painfully aware of how into this he is and how little you are wearing, worse still, you have to contend with the unwanted heat coiling low, making your skin feel hot.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

That is what you keep on repeating in your mind, but when he touches you like this, says those sweet fucking things, looks at you and talks about the future, destiny and fate, what you both went through and more it doesn’t feel like you hate him.

He is praising you, his breathing has picked up, “You were fucking beautiful that night. Soaked in sweat and covered in blood, screaming, clawing at me, like a feral animal. I loved watching you become the true you, the best version of you, totally unleashed.”

Your fingers are curling in the sheets, twisting them, focus on that, clenching your fists as you try to keep your expression hateful or at best neutral but you think you are failing as the beginnings of pleasure sink in. Your stomach is taut, thighs tensing around his hips, “You really hurt me, I was in bad shape by the time you were done, worried you might have really gotten me.”

Why did this feel good? Why was this shifting, bleeding, turning from feeling wrong to feeling right?

You felt like he saw you, understood you better than anyone else might in this one respect. You had so many people who looked at you after what happened like you were broken, looked at you with pity and sadness and you hated it.

Leslie looks at you like you are his everything, like you are strong, like you are fully capable and could do anything. Even before this no one looked at you like that and it is becoming more and more clear with every passing day no one will ever look at you like that.

Except for him.

You hate that you like being seen this way so much and hate that he is the one who is giving this to you.

Between the friction, his words, and everything else, you break. You grind back and breathe out how you were desperately trying to convince yourself you felt, clinging to the emotions that plagued you for the past months, vocalizing it through gritted teeth, “I fucking hate you.”

That makes him grin again, like he loves to hear that, as if it is music to his ears, a fundamental and unshakeable truth of the universe itself. “I know you do.”

#Leslie Vernon X reader #Slasher x reader #BHF writing #I love him #I adore him #Can you tell #I bet you can

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random-writer-person · 2 years ago

Text

What were you doing?

Tom Hiddleston x Reader Smut

word count: 1197

i hope you guys like this one its kinda my first i put a lot of work into it also i'm just not that strong of a writer so enjoy :)

warning contains: smut oral (f&m receiving) unprotected sex idk i think that's it

you and tom have been dating for a good long while almost a year. you still don't live together, but tom basically lives with you with how much he sleeps over.

tom had been off on a job for a few days, so you guys have not talked much and you could not see him you missed him dearly. getting desperate to see him in some way or another you go on tik tok and watch edits people made of him, there was a lot of them it made you kind of sad to see so many people who like tom and that he's with you when there are so many people who are better looking then you who want him. you roll your eyes and get those thoughts out of your head.

you kept watching until you hear the door close lightly he's home you look up and there he is you lock your phone and turn it over.

"Hello my love I missed you," you say getting off the bed to hug and kiss him. he gives you a short kiss then says in a curious tone

"darling what were you doing on your phone that made you turn it over so quick" he looks at you with a semi frown

"nothing love" you turn around so he cant see your blush and you gather some bedclothes he left here for him to sleep in tonight "here you are I'm sure you're exhausted" you gave him the clothes with a kiss then got in bed.

tom started changing with you watching it was kind of normal you could not keep your eyes off of his god-like figure. once he was done he turned around and looked at you with a serious face.

"Y/N what were you doing on your phone were you talking to another guy," he said getting more sad as he said it

"what no god no I was watching a video," you said getting up and rushing to him and putting your arms around his neck, he put his arms on your waist.

"a video what kind of video," he says in kind of a relieved sigh you blush and look down, you go to grab your phone unlock it then hand it to him. "this is me you were watching me?" you look up blush getting stronger and you start pacing the room really embarrassed

"I... uh... I missed you we hadn't talked in a while so I wanted to see you and this was really the only way I could... um yeah and then I started getting insecure about how many prettier girls want you and you deserve better than me-" tom cut you off

"what do you mean by deserving better you take care of me make sure I get enough sleep, makes me food, all the things I don't need you to do but you do anyway that's why I love you your everything to me and your the most beautiful person in the world I don't care what you say" you look up at him with tears in your eyes and you kiss him full of passion.

"oh, tom you always know just what to say" you kiss him again and pushed him on the bed you straddled his lap once he sat up and kissed him once again while grinding on him he gives little moans and groans as you do it which make you feel yourself grow wetter.

"I wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel tom" you go down on your knees and untie his sweat pants and pull them down along with his boxers while his boner popped out and hits his stomach. you look up at him and he smiles the slightest bit.

"love I want you to fuck my face" he looks at you unsure but you smile and then open your mouth, he puts his hand on the back of your head and the other on his dick. he puts himself in your mouth then he starts thrusting and groaning which makes you moan he starts losing control and starts going harder and faster until you feel him twitch he puts himself deep in your throat and cums you swallow all of it and open up to show him.

"Baby thank you that was amazing" you stand up and give him a peck.

"anything for you my love" he kisses you more and lays you on the bed. he gets on top of you and starts kissing you he grinds himself on you, you both moan into the kiss.

he starts kissing down your neck trying to find your sweet spot once he does he nibbles, sucks and kisses it while you are a moaning mess. once he is done he starts moving down he takes off your shirt with your help and starts sucking on your nipple while fondling your other breast. after a while he switches and gives the other one the same attention. after that, he left a trail of kisses down your stomach then when he reached the line of your pants he took them off.

"my darling you are the most beautiful person on this planet," he said while kissing up and down your thighs, you shifted to try and get him to eat you already but he just pinned your hips down,

"patience my darling I will make you feel good," he said and left a small kiss on your bud and did a small kitten lick all the way up you letting out a moan.

"that's it darling let me hear those pretty little moans," him saying that makes you moan louder, he starts going faster sucking on your clit then he starts sticking one of his long fingers in me making me arch my back and moan louder than I wanted to.

"oh tom please I need you please I need you now" you moan moving your hips trying to get him to suck on you more but he just moves away from you, you start to frown but then he starts to push into you and you moan as loud as you can be, mixed with toms moans and groans.

"ugh love you're so tight for me so good for me" you are moaning and groaning uncontrollably and he is groaning sweet nothings in your ear that just bring you that much closer to your release you try to moan out that you're close.

"ugh tom I'm- tom so close I'm so close" you struggle to say he kisses you and then after a few seconds he says

"let go my love let go for me" you scream as you release and he groans he falls on top of you then rolls over to "his" side of the bed.

"love I hope you know that you are more than enough for me and that I love you," he says kissing the top of your head.

"I know it's just hard sometimes also you are MORE than enough for me I love you so much" you kiss him and cuddle up to his tall body and fall asleep together.

I hope you guys have a great day-night whatever.

#tom hiddelson #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #romance #fem reader

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marlutterianae · 2 years ago

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Praetoria Gloriosa - Main Hunters of Dismalia.

Praetoria Gloriosa, as a Gladiator Berserker Zathan Slayer, is driven to greater feats of heroic violence when she is aware of witnesses to her power. She has an immediate mastery and familiarity with brutal weapons though she prefers to wield two at a time in each hand and always have one as a back up to switch instantly when hunting to stylishly confuse and overwhelm the senses of her prey.

Praetoria attempts to sculpt her Zathan body to muscular perfection even when her brutish lifestyle and Spartan training make it look more grotesquely bloated than properly proportioned like that of a Zathan Legionary Veteran like Renkora. Nevertheless, Praetoria's body is extraordinarily powerful, with strength that passively matches that of a Behemoth in both Vigor and Ferocity and even more destructively strong when she infuses golden wrath to augment it, rendering her capable of grinding a Behemoth’s bones to a pulp.   

She has no qualms about customizing her armor to make it more suitable for flashy acrobatics and fighting moves to ride demons and show off her strength in unnecessarily risky yet impressive flamboyant executions; this at the cost of protection. She delights in toying with her prey like a Rokyu Matador to exhaust them and gain the upper edge by recuperating her strengths in between taunts and mockery; forgoing any caution and instinctively relying on her abilities to humiliate her demonic opponents before obliterating them in grand fashion.

Being a Glory-Seeker she hunts to gain not only wealth in demonic Substance but omnipresent fame in Dismalia and beyond. Due to her constant inhuman training, her Zathan metabolism requires monstrous amounts of food to sustain the punishment she puts herself through to become stronger, faster, more durable and fierce. Therefore, she always ends up feasting on most of her own budget of demonic organs and fluids, living on only the bare minimum of necessities and luxuries to maintain the juggernaut that is his body by increasing her vigor and violent capabilities.

Nothing is too cruel or insidious to survive in Dismalia, and so she will always absorb the techniques of other guilds and Hunters into her own style to form a chimera of martial discipline that only she can master; though current circumstances have motivated her to teach her style to the strange insectile demoness pupil and adoptive daughter Histeria.

The Glory Seeker also excels in taunting demons with her exposed torso and brave emblem to rush head on towards her recklessly without thinking, so as to take advantage of their wrath to twist it against them with wrestling moves. She loves the idea of inflicting deep emotional wounds in demons even when they are completely ignored by them, the thought of is enough persuasion to keep Praetoria jolly and fierce in combat.

Praetoria is one of the main characters of DISMALIA WILD HUNTS; the Anthology Series focusing on Demons and the Slayers who Hunt them. She is a special character who transcends any expectations of heroism in the genres of sword & sorcery. Embodying my most unhinge, unrestrained passions, Praetoria cleaves through the veiny veils of reality, in the upcoming first Volume of Dismalia Wild Hunts: An Introduction to the Demon Plagued Wasteland. To thank the many artists that have brought her to visual life, all credited below.

S A M! [ComicNerdSam] Twitter: https://twitter.com/ComicNerdSam Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/35821279 Andre Díaz [Grimonomicon] Twitter: https://twitter.com/Grimonomicon Patreon: https://t.co/fW3VlsTOXr Fai [TheFaiao] Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheFaiao Tumblr: https://thefaiao.tumblr.com/ Sharkey [DeadmansPixels] Twitter: https://twitter.com/DeadmansPixels Linktree: https://t.co/lUMmqx8giQ Dio [astygiansump] Twitter: https://twitter.com/astygiansump Meatborg [Paultr0n] (For Histeria, the bug girl) Twitter: https://twitter.com/Paul0tron Itchio: https://t.co/61rx0Qv8CQ Salavante [salavante] Tumblrs: https://salavante.tumblr.com/ / https://salavarte.tumblr.com/ Thank you to all of you and so many more unseen for inspiring me to write about this crazy eater of demons. Things are just getting started~

#demons #sword & sorcery #dark fantasy #warriors #dismalia #praetoria #demon hunters #monster hunters #medieval demons #barbarians #berserkers

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jennifferoramas · 10 months ago

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Transforming Lives: A Fitness Journey with Jenniffer Oramas

In a world filled with quick fixes and fad diets, individuals like Jenniffer Oramas remind us that true transformation is not just about shedding pounds; it's about nurturing your body and mind to become the best version of yourself. Jenniffer's fitness journey is a testament to the power of dedication, discipline, and a genuine love for well-being. Through her inspiring story, we explore the remarkable transformation that has changed her life and impacted countless others.

The Beginning

Like many others, Jenniffer's fitness journey began with a deep desire to change her life. She found herself in a place where she felt physically and mentally exhausted. The daily grind of her job, coupled with an unhealthy lifestyle, had taken a toll on her well-being, and a moment of self-reflection pushed her to take the first step toward a healthier future.

"I knew I had to make a change," Jenniffer recalls. "I was tired of feeling tired all the time and wanted to regain control of my life."

Embracing Fitness

Jenniffer's journey into the world of fitness took time. She began by researching different fitness routines and nutrition plans. With determination and guidance from experts, she crafted a personalized fitness regimen that suited her needs and goals. She gradually integrated regular exercise and a balanced diet into her daily routine.

"I realized that this was not just about losing weight; it was about feeling strong and vibrant," Jenniffer explains. "I fell in love with the process of self-improvement, and that's when everything changed for me."

Overcoming Challenges

Like any fitness journey, Jenniffer faced her fair share of challenges. There were days when motivation was scarce, and the allure of unhealthy choices seemed too tempting. But what set her apart was her unwavering determination to stay the course. She learned to view setbacks as opportunities for growth and kept pushing forward.

"The road to transformation is never easy," Jenniffer admits. "But every obstacle I faced made me mentally and physically stronger."

Inspiring Others

As Jenniffer's transformation began to take shape, she couldn't help but share her journey with those around her. Her dedication and progress were a beacon of hope for friends and family struggling with their fitness goals. Jenniffer's story inspired many to embark on their fitness journeys, and she soon realized the profound impact she could have on others.

"I started a blog and social media accounts to document my journey and offer guidance to anyone who needed it," Jenniffer says. "Seeing others find their path to a healthier life was incredibly rewarding."

Becoming a Certified Trainer

Jenniffer's passion for fitness and her ability to motivate others eventually led her to pursue a career as a certified personal trainer. She wanted to formalize her knowledge and skills to help even more people transform their lives. Her dedication to her craft and genuine desire to support her clients set her apart as a trainer.

"I wanted to be there for others the way fitness professionals had been for me," Jenniffer states. "Becoming a certified trainer allowed me to do just that."

The Ripple Effect

Jenniffer's fitness journey and her subsequent career as a personal trainer have ripple effects on the lives of those she has touched. Her clients have achieved remarkable results under her guidance, not just in physical transformation but also in improved mental health and overall well-being.

"I've witnessed incredible transformations in my clients," Jenniffer shares. "Seeing them gain confidence, break through their limitations, and become the best versions of themselves is the most rewarding part of what I do."

A Holistic Approach

One of the critical aspects of Jenniffer's fitness philosophy is the importance of a holistic approach to well-being. She emphasizes that transformation is not just about the body; it's about nurturing the mind and soul. Her training programs focus on balance, mindfulness, and self-care, helping her clients achieve a state of holistic wellness.

"Physical fitness is just one piece of the puzzle," Jenniffer explains. "True transformation comes from caring for your mental and emotional health, too."

Never-Ending Journey

For Jenniffer Oramas, her fitness journey is not a destination but a never-ending adventure. She continues challenging herself, setting new goals, and inspiring others to do the same. Her commitment to personal growth and dedication to helping others make her a beacon of hope in the fitness world.

"Every day is a new opportunity to become a better version of yourself," Jenniffer says. "I want to keep evolving, inspiring, and transforming lives."

Jenniffer Oramas's fitness journey is a testament to the transformative power of determination, discipline, and self-love. Her story serves as an inspiration to anyone seeking positive change in their lives. Through her dedication to her well-being and her commitment to helping others, she has transformed her own life and become a source of motivation and support for countless others on their fitness journeys. Jenniffer's story reminds us that true transformation is a journey of self-discovery and growth and is well worth embarking upon.

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valiantroyalty · 1 year ago

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Ariel would’ve lost it at the addition of the second finger. On fact it only made her orgasm much stronger. Her mouth was open in a silent scream as her vision blurred from the sheer pleasure. She didn’t have a moments rest as Eric kissed her, quite hungrily. She tasted herself on him, much as it was reversed just earlier. When he grinded, she felt that familiar hardness.

The siren panted as the prince retrieved the food. She’s still trembling but she managed to sit up a bit. She curled up onto his side when he returned to bed. Food.. it was strong and she looked over to see what was brought up. Something she didn’t obviously know. Despite her exhaustion (she hadn’t really rested much) she reached over to touch the food. There’s some fruit and she’s focusing on it. Strawberries, apples, cherries.

It was the sunset of the first day of the three day contract she’s signed. Ariel was on her way down to the library, the room having caught her the earlier. Perhaps she can better learn the English language, see what she can or can’t read. And maybe find a better way to communicate with Eric since she currently doesn’t have her voice. She can sign, she’s tried during the day but she didn’t think he understood..

Her thoughts were cut short when her legs suddenly gave out. It was such bad timing as she was halfway down the stairs and Ariel couldn’t catch herself on the railing. The poor siren tumbled down the rest of the way. She did her best in sitting up but there’s just pain. Pain from the fall, pain from her legs she couldn’t properly move. In a way she’s glad no one saw, but she hates not having a voice. She can’t call out for help - unless someone heard.

@notwhileimcaptain

#part of your world: ariel ic #notwhileimcaptain #nsft

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 3 years ago

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Burning the Midnight Oil | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! My love for Lana Del Rey knows no bounds and I feel like a ton of her music reminds me of Bucky.

If you like what you read, throw me a reblog so that others can find my stuff! 🥰

Wanrings: Bucky’s tragic past, PTSD/ nightmares, feelings

"You don't ever have to

be stronger than you really are

when you're lying in my arms, baby."

The biting cold nudged you awake, dragging you out of your peaceful sleep. A harsh shiver wracked your body as you snuggled deeper under the covers and rolled over to face Bucky, searching desperately for his warmth. Still half-asleep, you pawed at the sheets, but found them empty and cold. The sharp realization that Bucky wasn’t lying next to you stripped all exhaustion from your body and sent your heart pounding.

Discovering that he was absent from the bed in the middle of the night was never good. Sometimes, he rushed out the door for a dangerous, last-minute mission. Other times, he was lying on the floor in the midst of a panic attack, barely able to breathe. The sharp chill bit at your skin as you threw your blankets to the floor and flicked on your bedside lamp, finding the room empty. Bucky’s large form didn’t lie sprawled upon the ground, nor did he inhabit the en suite bathroom. Dread poked holes in your heart as you resigned yourself to that fact that Bucky had left on yet another middle of the night mission.

A disappointed huff echoed through the room as you scooped up your blankets and piled them on top of the bed, wishing he’d woken you to say goodbye. You reached for your phone, hoping that Bucky had at least sent you a text explaining the details of his absence, but a small sound stopped you. Someone quietly cleared their throat in the living room, catching your attention. You’d know that sound anywhere- it was Bucky.

Once again, you ditched your covers. A sharp inhale pierced your chest as you fled the warmth of your bed and high-tailed it in the direction of Bucky’s voice, the cold air nipping at your skin. In the dim living room, Bucky sat in his favorite armchair, quietly reading by the light of a solitary lamp.

“Buck...?” He lifted his head from his book and met your curious gaze, a small smile stretching across his lips.

“Sweetheart, hey. Did I wake you?” He gently folded the corner of his page, leaving a dog-ear to mark his place. He could practically hear your teeth grinding together at the sight of yet another folded page and couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not one of yours,” Bucky’s metal hand raised the book, showing you the cover, “I promise”.

You gave him a dramatic roll of your eyes and padded in his direction with a smirk- he knew you too well. He laughed once more as you fell into his lap and made yourself comfortable, your body resting perfectly against his.

“You didn’t wake me. I just…I woke up and you weren’t there- I got nervous, that’s all”. Your fingers danced through Bucky’s soft locks, your nails gently scratching against his scalp. His book landed against the floor as he ditched it completely, committing all his attention to you, instead. The strong arms you’d often referred to as ‘home’ wound around you, binding you to Bucky’s warm chest.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you”, he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing a light kiss to your pulse, “I just couldn’t sleep- came out here to read instead.” Alarm bells rang inside your head. Being tired was no longer a temporary state for Bucky- it was a lifestyle. He always fell asleep quickly, even if he didn’t stay that way for long.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No”, he said simply- no explanation, no elaboration. Your hands removed his head from your neck and brought his face up to yours, your eyes narrowing as you stared him down.

“Don’t give me that look”, he pinched at your sides, using your ticklish spots against you, “I’m not lying, doll. I haven’t had one in a while- it must be the adrenaline.” Bucky had returned from a particularly harrowing mission just a day earlier, and explained how his body was still full to the brim with the anxiety and energy that helped get him through. “I’m okay, though. I’m sure I’ll crash soon.”

A strong yawn overpowered you, forcing your head back as exhaustion crept into your bones. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Bucky swept you up into his arms, but you protested- something you never did when he held you.

“If you’re gonna stay up, I wanna stay up with you. I don’t-” another yawn interrupted you, sending Bucky into a fit of laughter. He carried you to bed despite your pushback and got you settled under the covers, smiling as he watched you get comfortable. Bucky watched as your eyes fell slowly shut, losing the fight against sleep in almost record time.

“Come back to bed soon?” you breathed, reaching out for Bucky with your last stores of energy.

“Very soon”, he pressed a kiss to your hand, “promise”. With that, you were out. Bucky tightened the blankets around you just a bit more and left a kiss on your forehead, smiling down at his best girl. He flicked off your bedside lamp and padded quietly out of the room, but not before giving you one last look. He quietly shut the door and retrieved his book from the floor, resuming his place in his favorite chair.

A sharp ray of sun poked at you, rousing you from your deep sleep. A tired groan tumbled from your lips and you rolled over, hiding your face from the morning light. You reached for Bucky’s strong arms, but he was nowhere to be found. He was always waking up earlier than you on the weekends, cooking you breakfast and making sure there was coffee ready when you got out of bed- but the apartment was silent. The smell of coffee didn’t float through the air, nor did you hear Bucky clanging around in the kitchen.

Figuring that Bucky had gone for run, you hopped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Since he was always making you breakfast, you figured it was time you returned the favor. But just as you turned the corner toward the kitchen, the sound of quiet snoring caught your attention.

Bucky’s limp body still rested in the armchair, his head slumped over to one side. His book lay sprawled against the floor, its pages crinkled against the hardwood. With silent steps, you crept toward Bucky and scooped up his book, placing it gently on the coffee table.

You knew his enhanced hearing would pick up the sounds of you mulling around the kitchen, but you moved as stealthily as possible to get the coffee started. His arms were around you in no time, holding you close as you got the coffeemaker going.

“Morning to you too, Barnes”, you turned around, meeting his lips with yours, “Missed you in bed”. He let his forehead fall against yours, allowing for a dissatisfied grumble to escape his chest. “I know…I’m sorry, sweets. I got way too into my book. I didn’t realize that I passed out until I heard you in here”.

“I know, Buck. It’s not a big deal”, you ghosted your lips over his, “I still love ya”. He landed a light smack to your ass and banished you to a barstool, promising that he’d make breakfast to make it up to you. His large hands worked quickly to prepare a cup of coffee for you just the way you liked it, delivering it to you in your favorite mug.

Bucky watched with a smile as you sipped on it casually, telling him all about the wild dreams you’d had the night before. “Yeah, and so then I had to coach the soccer team because the real coaches got arrested- but no one would tell me why! And you know who the coaches were? Trixie and Katya!”

Bucky looked up from his waffle batter, a silly smile toying with the corners of his lips, “the drag queens?” He threw his head back in a laugh at your emphatic “YES!” and felt his heart swell- God, you were adorable. He served you your cinnamon waffles with a bowl of strawberries and a second cup of coffee, another “I’m sorry” falling from his lips.

“You are more than forgiven, Sarge” you popped a strawberry into his mouth, wiping at the sweet juice that stained his lips. The two of you ate and did the dishes together, enjoying the lazy, stress-free Saturday morning.

The day passed without incident, the two of you taking a walk in the park and grabbing Thai food for dinner at your favorite local place. Bucky dragged you into the bakery down the street and bought you the macarons that you deemed “too expensive”, relishing in the smile that spread across your face as you tried each one. He, of course, refused to take a bite of any of them and swore that they were just for you- but folded like he always did when you gave him your puppy dog eyes. It was a perfect day and an even better night, Bucky slipping into the shower with you and making you see stars.

He carried you to bed afterward, your damp hair sending goosebumps across his skin. “I love you…” he snuggled in close to you, wrapping his warm body around yours, “I love you a lot”. It was clear to you that Bucky still felt a twinge of guilt about the previous night, but there was no need.

“And I love you, Buck. A whole lot.” You reached for the lamp and flicked it off, sending the room into a dark stillness. Bucky tightened his grip around you and listened for your breathing to steady, waiting for his best girl to fall asleep.

You stirred around 3:15am, the urge to pee ruining the perfect dream you’d been having. Quickly and quietly, you padded to the bathroom, only realizing on your walk back to bed that Bucky was missing.

“Not again,” you snapped your head in the direction of the bedroom door, discovering a soft, yellow light emanating from the living room. “Buck…” you muttered, dragging your body from the bedroom to search for your super soldier.

He sat in the same place as the night before, his nose buried in a book while his metallic fingers played absentmindedly with the corner of the page.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Bucky’s eyes left the words and met your gaze, an apologetic smile pulling at his lips. A slight shiver made your body shake, forcing you to cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to conserve your heat.

“Hey, sweets, what are you doing up?”

You padded over to Bucky and perched on the arm of his chair, staring down at him with disapproval. “I could ask you the same thing, Barnes. Are we gonna have a problem?”

When the two of you first got together, Bucky had an issue being honest. He couldn’t seem to open up to you when he was struggling, nor did he ever dare ask you for help. And his habit of suffering in silence drove him to a seemingly-apocalyptic panic attack that convinced him he was dying.

He’d shown up at your door looking like a ghost of himself, scaring you half to death as he gasped for breath. It took nearly an hour to get him calmed down, and several hours after that for him to finally spill his guts to you. He told you every detail he could remember about Hydra, and the anxiety that often plagued him.

And when everything was laid out on the table, you made him promise to be honest from then on out. You assured him that you loved him for exactly who he was, Winter Soldier and all, and that you’d much rather hear about his troubled past than have him suffer in such a state of panic.

He reached for your hand and left a few kisses on your palm before pressing it gently to his cheek. “No problem here, doll, I swear I’m okay…I honestly don’t know what the deal is- just can’t fall asleep”. His arms tugged you from your seat and landed you in his lap, his body heat granting you a welcome respite from the cold.

“Are you sure? Cause if there’s something eating at you, Buck, you can talk to me- I want you to talk to me”. You twisted your fingers into his hair, making an automatic smile stretch across his face.

“I know that, sweets…” his grasp around you tightened, burying you deeper in the warmth of his body, “but there’s nothing to talk about. I laid in bed for hours before I came out here- no luck.” He threw you a defeated shrug and trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips, just like he always did.

“You promise? I mean, you always used to swear that you were okay, and then-” Bucky took your face in his hands, silencing you. He could tell the worry that you’d locked away all those months ago was rearing its ugly head, threatening to break free and wreak havoc on your psyche.

“I promise- just excess adrenaline or something, alright?” he offered you his pinky, linking it with yours in an effort to grant you a little peace of mind. With narrowed eyes and a faux-frown you gave his pinky a gentle tug, sealing the promise in place. “I just care about you, Buck…” the lighthearted tone left your words completely, exposing your deep-rooted anxiety, “I don’t mean to bug you- I just worry”.

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body, enveloping you completely in the safety of his arms. “I don’t think anyone’s ever cared about me as much as you do- it’s never a bother, you could never be a bother, doll. I welcome it.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his super-soldier heart. The sound brought you more comfort than you ever thought any one thing could, and before you knew it, you were falling asleep. “Alright, back to bed you go” Bucky swept you into his arms and carried you to bed, gently placing you back under the covers.

“Buck, would you stay? Just for a minute…” you pulled your head from the pillow, catching Bucky just as he stepped through the bedroom door, “I miss you”.

Without hesitation, Bucky crawled back into bed and pulled you flush against his chest, dropping kisses on the top of your head one right after another. “Of course, baby. I’m here”, he squeezed you a bit tighter, “you can go to sleep”. With Bucky in his rightful spot in your bed, you drifted easily off to sleep- but the same could not be said for him.

For three subsequent nights, Bucky snuck out of the bed you two shared and planted himself in the armchair, diving into his book while you slept without him. And every night, you woke to find him missing, disappointment and loneliness slowly chiseling away at your heart.

On the sixth night of Bucky’s absence, you wrapped yourself in the cozy quilt that adorned your bed and trudged into the living room. It was 3:47am and exhaustion threatened to force you to the floor, but a fierce determination to drag Bucky back to bed kept you going.

As you crept into the living room, your quilt dragging along the floor behind you, you laid eyes on Bucky. His head rested in one of his hands and his eyes squinted down at the page before him as he clearly struggled to stay awake.

“Buck…?”

A sharp jolt rattled Bucky’s body, your voice startling him out of his stupor. He looked up at you slowly, exhaustion making every movement that much more difficult. “Sweetheart, hi” he rasped, his groggy voice clearly struggling to appear cheery. His crystalline blue eyes, usually clear and alert, were foggy and vacant, betraying just how tired he was. Dark circles lived under his eyes and the healthy color was drained from his face, leaving him lifeless and ghost-like.

“Don’t tell me you’re okay, because you’re not,” you dropped the quilt and marched over to him, taking the book from his hands.

“Buck, I need you to talk to me. Right now. You’re clearly exhausted-” a slight crack in your voice sent a sharp pang of anxiety to Bucky’s chest, “what’s going on with you?”

Bucky’s head fell back and he resigned himself to defeat- but an inkling of relief tugged at his heart. He hated hiding things from you, hated keeping up the charade of being okay when he was falling apart at the seams. With a labored groan, he sat up straight in his chair. His tired muscles ached and throbbed, his exhausted mind foggy as he tried to lay all of his cards out on the table.

“That first night that you found me out here…I’d had a nightmare”. Bucky watched you cover your face with your hands, a crippling sensation of shame clawing at his chest. “I know, I know- I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, baby. I know”, he waited for a moment, only continuing his story when you’d composed yourself a bit.

“I couldn’t go back to sleep after, so I came out here to read- that’s the truth. But then…” Bucky’s vibranium hand gripped his dog tags, forcing a quiet whine from the thin metal. “Then I just- I didn’t want to sleep…every time I closed my eyes, I saw that same nightmare playing on an endless loop- I couldn’t take it”.

You lowered yourself onto the coffee table, the weight of Bucky’s words forcing you to sit down. “So you’re saying that-” Bucky nodded, confirming your fear. “Yeah. We’d go to bed and I’d wait for you to fall asleep, then I’d spend the rest of the night out here- forcing myself to stay awake”. Bucky’s dark chuckle sent goosebumps over your skin, “I got through four and a half books, though”.

But it wasn’t funny. You didn’t laugh or even crack a smile at Bucky’s attempt at humor. “Buck, you can’t- you have to sleep”, you tensed your jaw, pushing the raw emotion aside as best you could, “this is serious”. He knew you were right, and he was certain that he’d thrown your anxiety into overdrive, but he didn’t know what to say. An uncomfortable silence pushed its way between the two of you, filling you with a strange sense of isolation.

A shiver crawled up your spine, making your body shake against the unwelcome chill. “Oh, sweetheart-” Bucky grabbed the quilt you’d left on the floor and wrapped it around you, banishing the cold from your body.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you stared down at Bucky, watching him tuck the ends of your blanket around your feet. “You promised, Buck.”

His head fell forward. The utter brokenness in your voice, your seemingly hopeless tone shattered him completely. Shame twisted in his chest, making it ache and throb as he thought about what you said. He made a promise to you, but chose break it- something he swore he’d never do.

“I didn’t…I don’t like telling you about this stuff, baby”, he raked a hand through his hair and lifted his tired eyes, meeting your worried gaze. “I’ve told you all about Hydra and my missions and the anxiety, but I haven’t- I don’t like to tell you about the dreams…”

“I’m an adult- I’m a grown man…I’m a fucking Avenger. I shouldn’t be bothered by them, you know? It’s embarrassing…” He rocked back on his heels, allowing his butt to land against the cold hardwood. You slid from the coffee table to the floor, landing just a few inches from Bucky’s exhausted form. With a light touch, you placed a hand on his knee, ensuring him that you were there- you were with him.

A sudden, sharp cringe pulled his brows together, forcing the alarm bells in your head to sound at full volume. “Um, since I’m being honest…do you remember how I told you that I’d had fewer nightmares since moving in?” You looked at him expectantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop, only to feel your heart shatter.

“You’ve been hiding them from me this whole time…” You felt your chest tighten at the thought of Bucky suffering in silence- all alone.

“I didn’t hide all of them, not the-”

“Not the ones that woke me up?”

He nodded sheepishly, explaining that he couldn’t hide the nightmares if you were the one shaking him awake as he screamed. He could practically feel the anxiety rising in your body, the tension turning your pliant muscles into rock hard knots.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry- I never want to lie to you or hide things, but I-” With the raising of your hand, you silenced him. Nervous energy twisted in Bucky’s stomach as he sat before you, waiting for you to speak.

“I’m not mad, Buck”, you finally said, “I’m not happy that you kept all this to yourself, and I wish you’d told me like you promised you would, but…I just hate that you’ve been dealing with this alone- how can I help you? What can I do, babe? I just want you to sleep- I need you to rest.”

Bucky scooted closer to you and leaned his head against the crook of your neck, releasing a deep sigh. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do doll,” he whispered, “I’m so fucking tired…I’m gonna pass out soon, and then I’ll have the dream again- and the whole cycle will start over”.

Your heart broke for him, splintering and shattering into hundreds of sharp, tiny pieces. If anyone deserved rest, it was Bucky. But the ghosts of his past plagued him so violently, so aggressively, threatening to ruin his present and his future.

“Okay, how about this- let’s just get you into bed, alright?” Bucky tried to protest, but didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight. “We won’t turn the light off and we’ll keep the tv on- I’ll put on something happy…and when you wake up from the nightmare, I’ll be right there. I’ll coax you through it, okay? We’re gonna get you some rest- I promise.”

He didn’t resist when you pulled him from the floor and escorted him to the bedroom, his hulking form leaning against you as he trudged down the hall. With the blanket wrapped securely around him, Bucky felt a sense of peace- but it was eclipsed by overwhelming anxiety. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to see the gory, bloody carnage that sat dormant in his brain. He started spiraling, willing his body to flee from the bed and find safety in his trusty armchair, but your voice brought him back.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about the nightmares?” you snuggled into bed next to Bucky, gently stroking his scarred chest, “I know you said it’s embarrassing because you’re an Avenger or something, but do you think that Steve never had nightmares? Sam? Nat? Tony? Everyone on the team has been through shit- you more than anyone else. Nightmares are a normal response…”

Bucky shrugged, his aching muscles protesting against the motion. With exhaustion taking hold of him and stripping him of his usual filter, Bucky dropped the truth on you all at once.

“I should be stronger than this…”

You stared at him, your mouth hanging slightly ajar. Bucky was the strongest person you’d ever known- mentally and physically. To have suffered so much, only to remain so kind, so grounded, was a miraculous feat.

“Buck, having nightmares doesn’t mean that you’re weak-”

“But letting them keep me awake does…” he breathed, “letting them torture me to the point of avoiding sleep simply because I’m too fucking scared to close my eyes- that makes me weak”.

He left you speechless. How Bucky could be so cold, so callous toward himself, lacking any fiber of empathy or understanding, broke your heart. “I don’t want- I don’t want you thinking less of me…this isn’t what you signed up for when we got together, baby,” Bucky’s eyes dipped once again, the unbridled humiliation forcing his gaze downward. “I want to be strong for you. I’m a fucking super soldier-“

“I know you’re a super soldier, but you’re human. Before you’re anything else- you’re a human being. It’s okay to be affected by these things, Buck. It’s okay to be scared.” You placed a hand under his chin, lifting his eyes to meet yours, “You don’t have to put up a façade with me- you don’t have to pretend. If you can’t be vulnerable with me, if you can’t let your guard down and be honest about what you’re going through- it’s only going to make things worse”. Bucky nodded- he knew you were right- but the humiliation still threatened to eat him alive.

“And hey, I didn’t sleep for a week after seeing the last IT- and that’s literally a movie about a spooky clown”, Bucky half smiled at your quip, looking more at peace than he had all night. “You’ve faced some real horrors- things that no one on this planet could even imagine. Your mind revisits them at night as a way to deal and cope- you’re literally reliving some of the worst moments of your life, of course it affects you”.

Tears stung at Bucky’s eyes. Emotion and exhaustion had his head spinning, a complete loss for words preventing him from even responding.

“Hey, we can talk about this more in the morning-alright?” you pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and grabbed the remote, turning on Golden Girls at a low volume. “Okay, ya Girls are playing, the lamp is on- is there anything else I can do for you right now?” Bucky just shook his head, still too overwhelmed to say much of anything.

He freed his arms from their blanket burrito and tugged you against his body, holding you tight to his chest like he always did. “I’m always here for you, Buck. You never have to be embarrassed- I just want what’s best for you. Okay?” He nodded, finally feeling a sense of relief. With you there, Bucky could endure anything.

“Baby…I love you” he managed to whisper, squeezing you tighter as he let his eyelids flutter shut. With the uncertain darkness of sleep on the horizon, he prayed silently that he wouldn’t see the faces of those who tortured him all those years - but knew that if he did, you’d be right there to save him.

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