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neptuneiris · 1 year ago

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True Intentions | (One-shot)

Be the only one or be an 'sometimes'?

pairing: modern!aemond (best-friend brother) × fem!reader

summary: even knowing his reputation, you've always had a little secret crush on the most popular boy in school, Aemond Targaryen, until it becomes impossible to hide it when your brother Cregan makes friends with him and you begin to see him more frequently.

word count: 9.0k

I'm very excited about this!

I hope you really like it, I loved writing this even though it took me a while, but here it is finally:) comments and reblogs are appreciated beautiful people, thank you so much for reading!❤

warning's: language, slight angst, mention of alys, sexual content, spanking.

You always hated it when your brother Cregan brought his friends over to your house when your parents were away, whether it was to watch soccer games, play video games or have some fun at the pool.

You especially were never the type of sister to bring friends over, rather you were the type of sister who preferred to go to friends' houses, as you never mentioned your house as an option.

It just wasn't comfortable for you.

And apparently it wasn't enough for your brother and his friends to see each other almost daily at school that they also had to go to your house.

But you couldn't really do anything, he's the older brother and it wouldn't make any difference to accuse him to your parents since logically there's nothing wrong with him inviting his friends over, besides they work almost all the time and probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

So you can only lock yourself in your room with food as a provision, put on your AirPods and wait for them to leave.

And that's what you do, all the while Cregan and his friends prowl around your house. But you reach your breaking point when again Cregan plans a pool party.

"Are you serious?" you inquire, clearly annoyed, "I swear to God, Cregan, this is not going to happen again."

"Oh come on," he gives you a tired look, tossing balloons and animal inflatables into the pool, "Live a little, sis."

"No! You always do this, the same old shit!"

You reproach him as you follow him back into the house, where at the kitchen island is a stack of beers that he begins to store in the fridge completely disinterested to your clear dissatisfaction with it all, as he just doesn't care.

"Last time everyone was coming into the house like it was nothing to leave the whole floor wet, they also left a mess all over the kitchen, pool and garden," you remind him annoyed, "Not to mention we had complaints from the neighbors for all the fuss you made."

"Fucking Hell, will you relax? I'll take care of everything," he says looking at you wearily, only increasing your anger more, "The guys won't be long and I needed everything to be ready."

"That's what you always say but I'm the one who ends up cleaning everything up in and I'm the one who deals with the neighbors because of you fucking fault!"

"Fine!" he exclaims in exasperation, looking at you, "You have my word, I'll take care of everything this time, yeah?"

He looks at you seriously to get back to dealing with the beers, but you don't believe half a word he says.

"Now do you want to help me turn on the pool lights? Also lock the upstairs doors, just in case."

You slowly shake your head in his direction with your arms crossed with your completely serious and annoyed look in his direction.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You don't wait for him to say anything back nor do you say anything else, you just annoyingly turn around and walk upstairs to your room, preparing to be another long night confined to your four walls.

And this is what happens every time your parents aren't home, having to put up with the liberties Cregan takes to do whatever he pleases around the house.

During the week he usually doesn't invite anyone over, except for a few times he invites the Velaryon brothers, Jace and Luke, over to play video games after school.

The weekend is when it really bothers you that he throws big parties without your parents knowing.

It's not until one day when you get home from your music lessons at almost seven o'clock that when you open your front door, you hear a lot of voices and laughter.

You close the door hard enough to announce your arrival and look into the living room as you head for the stairs, when then, you see them.

And they see you too.

With handsome faces and infectious smiles, besides their unusually silver hair and blue eyes that steal the breath of every girl in the school, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen, the kings of the whole school and also the most players, are in your living room having a few beers and smoking with Cregan.

And Cregan is the first to react.

"Guys, the lady of the house is here," he says, "So let's take this to the pool, shall we? Before she starts screaming."

You watch him with a completely serious look on your face as you see Aegon let out a small chuckle to himself. And without a word, you avert your gaze and continue on your way to the stairs, feigning disinterest.

However, you don't leave without one last look at him, Aemond Targaryen.

From your single couch and with a cigarette between his long fingers, gives you back an intense and burning look that makes you feel a strange sensation all over your body.

And just like all the other girls at your school, you can't help but feel equally captivated and attracted to him, Aemond.

But it's not something you really go around telling everyone, let alone something you want your brother to know now that he's apparently become friends with him.

However, you should have expected him to notice.

And it happens when Cregan again throws a pool party with all his friends and him too, where you don't confront him much about it like previous times and that's what gets his attention.

"Which of the two is the one you like?"

He asks you suddenly with a curious expression and a hint of suspicion in his voice, making you watch him with confusion on your face.

"What are you talking about?"

"The Targaryens."

He points at you with his gaze, crossing his arms and looking at you again attentively and suspiciously.

"You haven't caused a scene since the two of them have been coming around often and you certainly don't look upset when it used to be a problem with anyone coming around, so you definitely must like one of the two of them, so tell me, which one?"

Your whole body tenses up completely upon hearing your brother's words and you inevitably start to feel terribly nervous, as well as your heart starts to beat too fast, especially because of his suspicious look on you.

But you feign innocence and confusion, only to stare at him with your most incredulous face of all and try to evade him.

"You're talking nonsense."

"Oh, am I?"

"Cregan," you observe him seriously, "Have you ever seen me talk to either of the two of them here or at school?"

"Hmm," he says for a moment, thoughtfully.

Still he doesn't look entirely convinced and analyzes you with a completely intent and penetrating gaze, making you feel more nervous but you control him well.

"Still I find it odd that you don't complain about them when they come."

"Then maybe you should think about the fact that I just got tired of telling you the same old thing over and over again," you persuade the subject, "No matter how many times I complain, you'll still do what you want," you tell him seriously, "Besides, you assume that as if I didn't go to the same school as you and didn't know the Targaryens."

"That's exactly why I'm telling you," he says instantly, just as serious, "Do you think I'd like to see you start dating one of them?"

"And why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" he repeats incredulously, "I'm your brother, of course I care."

"As if I care about the girls you date," you tell him just as incredulously.

"Well, at least I have a good reason here," he insists, "I know them, both," he clarifies, "And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

"Stop being ridiculous," you tell him with your clearly annoyed tone, starting to head to your room, "And even if I will start dating one of them, it's none of your business."

You sentence to finally leave him behind, leaving a tension in the kitchen, while inside, you finally stop feeling tense and nervous, but Cregan continues with his suspicion.

He almost had you, almost.

And after that conversation, automatically the Targaryens come to your house more often, even more than usual.

Even after school, Cregan invites them over, the two of them and also the Velaryon brothers, where they all together invade your house and you start to witness the personality of him that he is mostly known for.

And it happens one day you're making yourself food and you hear them all talking from the living room.

"Oh, this fucker is texting Savannah," you hear Aegon's excited and amused voice.

"What!? Savannah Williams!?"

"Yeah, since yesterday. I saw her name on his phone when she texted him."

"So what do you say, dude?"

"Not much, actually," you hear his voice.

"But haven't you gone out with her before?"

"Yeah, but you know, it was casual," he explains, "Just now she told me her parents aren't home."

"Oh dude, if I were you, I wouldn't waste the opportunity," your brother says excitedly.

"But what happened to that girl at the party last week? What was her name? Emily, I think."

"Ah Emily… yeah, we had a thing but it was casual too. We only met once after that party."

"She was so hot, but Savannah is hot too."

"Yeah, I know," you hear his nonchalant voice.

"So will you go see her?"

"Yeah, I think so."

You hear them continue to talk, but you tune out and sneak off to your room unnoticed.

It's not the first time you've witnessed these conversations, though. It also happens when they are in the pool and you find yourself back in the kitchen preparing food.

But you can't concentrate because through the glass of the huge windows you see Aemond's bare chest marked. This is a distraction but you try to ignore it as much as you can, but to no avail.

When then the movement and sound of him emerging from the water catches your attention and that of Cregan and Aegon.

"Where are you going?"

"To Cerelle's," he announces, with his phone in hand and his towel over his shoulder.

"Yo! Cerelle Lannister!?" exclaims Cregan in surprise.

"She's so sexy," Aegon says, grining.

"She told me she's home alone and wants me to come over," he explains, as you watch him quickly move his fingers across his phone screen.

"Good luck, dude!"

You feel another pang of disappointment when you hear all this and also when you see how he smiles and starts to make his way over here without taking his eyes off his screen.

This immediately makes you react to quickly go to your room so you don't cross paths with him.

Even though you know his reputation and how you are aware of his numerous 'adventures' with other girls, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach and wonder if he might ever be interested in you.

Not in that way, since you really don't want to be another girl on his huge list, but be something more genuine and real to him.

But that's totally ridiculous and impossible.

You tell yourself in disbelief, seeing the reality, as it's clear he's not looking for something serious and you don't want to be a 'one night stand' for him if you'll be ignored, forgotten and to some extent humiliated afterwards.

One day, taking advantage of the fact that Cregan is not at home on the weekend and neither are any of his friends, much less your parents, although that is actually no surprise, you decide to make this day for yourself, relax and enjoy your own company.

You decide to stop paying attention to your phone and with your towel in your arms, you leave your room and go down to the pool.

But just as you finish walking down the stairs and are about to turn down the hallway, the doorbell rings.

You stop with a tired expression as that alone has slightly disturbed the zen zone you now find yourself in, but having no choice, you turn around and head to open the door, thinking it must be Mrs. Arryn to ask you for sugar, as usual.

But when you open the door, it is not Mrs. Arryn, but rather you come face to face with Aemond, taking you by surprise and takes your breath away for a moment.

If he is surprised to see you, he doesn't show it, just raises his eyebrows slightly and you notice how he shamelessly runs his eye up and down you, making you embarrassed and nervous as you remembers your outfit, which is a cute black two-piece bikini.

And you quickly try to cover up a bit with the towel in your hands, although in reality this shouldn't embarrass you, since you're at home and you didn't expect to see him, besides this bikini doesn't leave much to the imagination.

Or so you think.

"Hey."

He says to you dispassionately in greeting mode, with a look that you can't really describe but that makes you feel more nervous and you feel your heart beating too hard.

"Hi," you try not to stutter, "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Aemond watches you with a little mischievous smile barely visible and a spark of amusement in his eye.

"No worries," he tells you in his soft tone.

"Hum…" you place your confused face, "My brother is not here," you let him know, still finding it strange that he doesn't know that.

"Oh," he is silent for a moment, watching you intently, "He's not?"

You shake your head.

"He said he was going to Alysanne's, but he left hours ago," you explain and he hums in understanding, "Did you tell him you were coming today?"

"No, although I should have, I was just passing through and decided to come," he explains to you as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his silk jacket, "I left my wallet here last night," he tells you later, getting your attention more, "That's why."

"Oh," is all you say, not knowing what else to say for a few seconds, "Well, I'm not sure what time Cregan will be back. But if you want to go up and get it, I'll be at the pool."

You allow him passage, as it's not as if he's a complete stranger and it's not as if he doesn't hang around here often either, it's as if he and Aegon live here too, being the brothers Cregan wished he had.

"Okay, thanks," he tells you as you step aside and make room for him to come in.

"Just close the door when you leave," you tell him, still feeling your heart beat too fast against your chest.

Aemond turns his gaze back to you, nodding in your direction.

"All right."

You give him a small smile and without saying anything else to him, you walk past him, hurrying to get out of his sight and urgently needing, now more than anything else, to get your whole body into the warm water of the pool that will make you stop feeling so tense.

And this is why you don't feel Aemond's piercing, burning gaze on you as you pull away, admiring your bare skin and having a perfect idea of your naked body to the imagination.

And with that alone, he feels himself getting hard at the sight of your smooth, long legs, as well as getting a good look at that ass of yours jiggling as you pull away.

He wets his lips and with a little grin, finally makes his way to Cregan's room, thinking about little things since you're here alone…. now with him.

Meanwhile you, wanting to forget that Aemond Targaryen is in your house right now, submerge yourself completely in the water, where you immediately feel a sensation of freshness and relief.

The water caresses you and envelops your body completely, while you let out a small sigh of pleasure and begin to get used to the new temperature, letting the revitalizing sensation envelop you completely.

Then you emerge with a slight jump, remove your wet hair stuck to your face and begin to swim elegantly, where your arms and legs move at a steady pace and the water takes you in all directions.

You submerge again for a moment and watch the horizon, as your house is on a hill and you can see the lights of neighborhoods below, being a beautiful sight when the sun sets and also when the sun goes down.

However, again your zen zone is disturbed when you hear the movement of the kitchen glass doors sliding, so you turn around in confusion and again feel all your nervousness wash over you.

Aemond makes his way over here, but what strikes you more than anything else is how he has clothes in his hand and also one of the many clean towels Cregan has in his bathroom.

You look at him confused face and he looks back at you with his intent gaze.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The words get stuck in your throat, watching him still confused, feeling really very nervous and not understanding what he is doing here since he was supposed to go get his wallet and then leave, while he stands at the edge of the pool, watching you.

"Hum…" you say not really knowing what to say, "Are you going to wait for Cregan?"

He averts his gaze from yours, then drops the towel and clothes on a chair with dispassionate movements, to return his gaze to you.

"Yeah, I can do that too."

You watch him warily and with a slight distrust, but not in a bad way, it's simply nerves.

"And what are you actually here to do?"

He looks at you slightly amused.

"To keep you company, of course. Unless you don't want me to," he hastens to clarify.

And here your dilemma begins.

Being alone here with Aemond, in your house, in your pool, was a scenario you longed for and feared at the same time. You longed for because that's how your mind works when you're attracted to him, but feared since anything could happen.

And knowing his reputation, maybe when the moment happens, if the moment happens at all, you don't know if what will come next will be bad or good.

Also, you don't know if Cregan will arrive at any time or even later, so if he arrives in a couple more minutes and sees you alone here with Aemond, you don't even want to imagine the scandal he will make.

You don't know if Aemond has considered that possibility too but if he has, he doesn't seem to mind.

"So?" he looks at you expectantly.

But you again, can't utter words.

You don't want to look bitter by telling him no, that it will be best for him to leave, but you also can't find another way to politely decline.

And on the other hand… there is that inevitable emotion in your being that begs you to invite him into the pool with you.

You let out a long breath and swallow hard before responding, trying to hide your excitement and nervousness.

"Hum… yeah, sure, if you want," you say acting nonchalant, averting your gaze from him and distracting yourself with the water.

Aemond can't help but put on his smirk again and right in front of you, wanting to give you a show, he takes off his shirt, to which you watch him helplessly out of the corner of your eye and make sure he doesn't catch you admiring the view.

He's wearing that usual silver chain around his neck that makes it stand out against his skin, making him look only even sexier when he doesn't have a shirt on and God, you don't know if you can survive this, thinking it's a bad idea.

Then you watch as he pulls on a pair of Cregan shorts, secures his hair in a low bun and finally steps into the water.

In a nonchalant way you make yourself more towards the shore, unobviously avoiding getting too close to him as he swims towards the center of the pool, making it more impossible for you not to watch him as it's getting dark and the last orange rays of the sun beautifully illuminate his skin that glows slightly from the water and his face.

And then feel his intense gaze on you, while you try to distract yourself with your eyes, trying to focus only on you.

But it is genuinely impossible.

However, he doesn't make any effort to talk and neither do you, which you are grateful for, to continue to feel the calmness and relaxation throughout your body, although it's a little hard for you being here alone with him.

And it's a bit awkward since neither of you are talking, but is there anything to talk about?

He's one of your brother's best friends and you're just the sister, the two of you don't really know each other, so it makes sense. But still you feel the slight tension between the two of you and you don't even know why.

You wonder if he feels the same way too when suddenly his low, amused voice almost makes you startle in your place.

"I've always wondered why you're so quiet when Aegon and I come over."

You look at him with a slightly surprised expression, not expecting that, feeling again how your heart is beating too fast from nerves, for what are you supposed to tell him?

You should tell him that you have a crush on him and that your brother warned you about him?

"I know it's your house and I come with your brother but… you look like you hate me or something."

Oh God.

You think, only making you feel more nervous, especially since it's really impossible not to see a part of his torso and pectorals that looks almost glowing from the water and sunlight, not expecting to hear those words either.

And you force yourself not to turn your back on him anymore to watch him while they talk, adopting a relaxed and confident attitude, just like him, when actually inside you are shaking with nerves.

"You just said yourself, you come with my brother, not me," you say softly.

And while he watches you and listens attentively, he also struggles just like you not to see too much of your breasts confined in that black bikini of yours that makes you look too sexy, especially the way the wet fabric looks and your skin on your chest and collarbone too.

"And I don't hate you," you clarify, slightly amused and absurd, "We just don't talk, that's all."

"Because you haven't given me the chance."

You look at him expectantly.

"I don't remember a single time you ever tried to talk to me."

"That's exactly why," he tells you softly, "Because you run away before I can try."

Now it is you who watches him completely attentively, while you feel your heart beating like crazy and you look away from him for a moment, not knowing what to say or do since he is right, feeling really very nervous, especially when he starts to swim slowly towards you, with a determined look.

And you for insisting, you start to back away, watching his slow and calculated movements with some trepidation, having an idea of what he intends to do and you know it's not a good idea at all.

"See? You're already running away," he points out to you with his amused and satisfied look.

And you don't miss his determined look, how his head is slightly tilted as he continues to slowly advance towards you, with the corners of his lips twisted upwards in a small smile and his blue eye glowing, while his prosthetic eye remains the same as ever.

And you still don't want to agree with him.

"That's not true, I'm not doing anything," you defend yourself in a weak and pathetic attempt.

"Oh no?" he raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

And you start to lose it all when he's already in front of you, cornering you.

"Aemond," you call him in a sigh in warning mode, fully alert, leaving his name in the air as you become very nervous of his intense, dark gaze on you.

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of me?"

You watch him with a slight expression of surprise and even more nervousness, as you press your lips together and try to say the right words.

"No," you reply softly, "But I know you're no good either," you confess.

And he frowns, watching you interestedly.

"What do you mean?" you are silent for a moment, as you give him a sad look, serious and obvious at the same time.

"We both know what," you tell him softly, without much detail.

And at this, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed, immediately noticing how you clench your jaw and look away from yours for a moment, serious and thoughtful.

You know he shouldn't have to be upset with you for implying a truth you both know, especially him, but still you can't help but hold your breath, hoping that maybe you haven't gone too far.

All the while thinking that maybe you've ruined the first chance you've had to talk to him by telling him that he's no good by reputation, since that's not your concern, but at least you make it clear that that's not what you're looking for now.

"And you don't even want to try?" he asks you quietly, turning his gaze back to you, attentive and completely willing.

You stare at him, completely speechless, as you feel your whole body tense and your eyes are slightly wide open, your lips parted, not having the slightest idea what to say at the same time as a million questions invade your mind.

And just at that moment, Cregan's words come back to your mind.

"I know them, both. And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

So you know.

Aemond is not like you and the only thing he wants is to fill his list, no matter with whom, not even if it's the sister of one of his best friends, who are supposed to be 'forbidden', somehow.

And that's why you decide to answer him truthfully, no longer caring if you hurt his feelings, even though you doubt it very much.

"And be just another girl on your list that you never speak to again and suddenly pretend she doesn't exist anymore? No thanks."

Not wanting this to go any further, since you knew all along that letting him stay was a bad idea, you move as fast as your body in the water will let you, walking away, wanting to keep your distance again.

But just as you pass by him, he's faster and you feel his big hand grab your arm and twist you in a demanding motion back towards him, slamming his chest against yours, locking you in his arms, making you gasp in surprise.

His face is above yours, completely close, causing you nerves and you try to free yourself from him, but he doesn't let you, even having that determined, attentive and dark look.

"Do you ever stop running away?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

"What do you think you're doing?" you hiss nervously.

"You're not even letting me explain."

"There's nothing to explain."

"Oh no?" he asks, "Did I say I only wanted you for one night?"

"That's what you do, Aemond, with every girl," you say absurdly, "Am I suddenly going to be the exception? How am I supposed to believe that?"

However, any further protest gets stuck in your throat as Aemond grabs one hand from your cheek and the other places it on your bare waist, pulling you closer against him in a possessive grip.

And you know you're losing the battle when he brings his face closer to yours, where your noses brush lightly and your breathing becomes more rapid, having no idea what's going on.

But Aemond does.

And as he strokes your soft, wet cheek with his thumb, watching you intently and with understanding, his next words make you reconsider the situation completely.

"You won't be just another girl on the list," he murmurs softly to you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You shudder completely at his words, but also at his touch and closeness, being impossible not to look between his violet eye or his full lips, which Aemond notices, also peering between your eyes and lips hungrily.

And you don't even think or discuss it anymore when he leans his face towards you and kisses you with need, without even giving you time to react.

You moan into his mouth in surprise and he pulls you roughly to him, lowering his hands to your body where he makes you wrap your legs around his torso, then makes room between your lips with his tongue, making you gasp.

You immediately bring your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss further, a passionate kiss, where you barely give each other time to breathe properly before desperately bringing your lips together again.

A slight tingle of desire is felt between your legs as you move your body and legs to hold his torso tighter, where you perfectly feel the hardness of his cock under your ass.

You moan as you feel one of his hands grip your thigh and the other caress the skin of one of your ass cheeks, making you gasp against his mouth, closing your eyes in delight as he pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft kisses on your neck.

"I fucking knew it," he murmurs in delight too in his husky voice, running his tongue over your sensitive skin, "I knew you wanted me too."

You squint completely as the hand on your ass reaches lower and nonchalantly rubs his palm over your covered, moist center.

"Aemond," you moan.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, smiling in the middle of your lips as he kisses you again.

But it's there in that moment with his hand caressing you right at your nerve center that your brain for an instant seems to react, realizing what's really going on and you stop kissing him abruptly, watching him in surprise and slight fear as he watches you slightly confused.

"W-we can't," you say in a trembling voice, "We can't do this, t-this is wrong. Cregan—

"We can't do it or we can't do it here?" he inquires expectantly.

You let out a sigh.

"Both," you say with a certain embarrassed tone, "But I'm more worried about Cregan. If he sees us, he'll go crazy."

"Come on, Y/N, you're not a little girl anymore."

"I know but he warned me about you and your brother," you tell him hopelessly, "And you're one of his best friends."

Aemond is silent for a moment, watching you and nothing else, where he is aware and so are you of the hardness in his shorts, while in his thoughts he bets that you too must be spilling your juices between your legs.

Honestly he understands your concern, but he also understands that Cregan is really no one to tell you who you can and can't date, as the decision is totally up to you.

He doesn't want to have problems with him either as he also considers him one of his best friends but you... you simply drove him crazy with seeing you in this black bikini and now he is even more so for you, wanting, needing more of you, no matter the consequences.

"Then we have to be careful and not to say anything to him," he tells you softly, in solution, "Only if you want to," he clarifies, "But if you want to stop now, just tell me and I will, before we take this any further."

But you don't really have to make a decision when you are already here, in his arms, feeling how much he wants you and you also recognizing how much you want to keep touching and kissing him, no matter what.

But he still gives you that option, to make you see that he really doesn't want to hurt you and that he respects your decisions, since you are the one in control of all this and you are the one who puts the stop, at any time.

And when Aemond sees how you are watching him intently, with indecision in your gaze, holding back your true desires, thinking fast, he cocks his head to one side and watches you curiously.

"Or do you really want me as much as I want you, princess?"

Something snaps inside you and not just from hearing that nickname for you, but from having him so fucking close and his lips being a complete invitation to you and in fact all of him.

So you think no more and again crash your lips against his, resuming what you were doing before, to which Aemond responds with the same rudeness and fervor.

And then without stopping kissing you, he carries you to the edge of the pool along with him.

Soon enough, he is sitting on the edge of the pool and you find yourself sitting on top of him, your arms around his neck as you press yourself against the hardness of his shorts.

You move your hips in circles on top of him, rubbing your needy center against his hard cock, while he caresses your thighs, your ass and all the skin he blindly finds without stopping kissing you, feeling his breathing just as ragged as yours.

Then he brings his hands up and starts sliding the strings of your bikini over your shoulders, sending fiery electricity throughout your body.

"What was it you said? That we couldn't do this here?" he murmurs hoarsely against your skin, leaving wet kisses on your collarbone and neck.

You moan, as your bikini top piece is loosened completely by Aemond's fingers and you involuntarily wiggle your hips more intensely.

"You just can't resist, can you?" he asks you amused amidst all the sensuality.

"Shut up," you whine pathetically into his lips.

This time he kisses you again, softly and tenderly, deep, as he with his hand pulls away the piece of your bikini top that covers your breasts, freeing them, causing him to groan at the sight in front of him.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "Such a pretty tits, princess."

He says to you with his eye fully dilated and watching you hungrily, then you moan as he brings his mouth to your hard, wet nipple and begins to caress it with his tongue and lips, sucking on it, while he kneads the other one with his hand.

"Oh yes," you moan, pulling your breasts closer to his face.

You continue to move your hips on top of him, desperate and needy to feel the friction his cock gives you against your swollen clit.

When you least expect it, you begin to approach your limit, as your whole body tenses and his caressing hands only add to the pleasure.

"Mhm," he moans against your hard nipple, then gives the same attention to the other, still kneading them as he pleases.

"Fuck, Aemond, please don't stop," you say under your breath.

But that's exactly what he does, he releases your nipple with a wet sound and captures your lips in a sensual kiss, making you moan and groan at the same time from the attention on your breasts.

And you sigh as he again distributes kisses all over your neck and his teeth grind against your sensitive skin.

You feel the moist heat of his mouth and hands all over your body, as if he wants to mark you with each firm, possessive touch.

You arch your neck and moan, clinging to him completely, needing more of him, driving you completely insane.

"Remember we have to be careful, baby," he suddenly murmurs hoarsely in your ear, feeling his warm breath, "And we don't want your brother to see his innocent little sister getting the fuck of her life if he comes back, do we?"

Despite all the desire you're feeling and you're dripping completely for him, his words reach your brain and scare you a little, so you force yourself to be patient and you both go up to your room.

And soon enough you find yourself lying on your bed, with Aemond on top of you, spreading your legs for him, watching with his dilated eye and gently biting his bottom lip your wet pussy ready for him.

"Seven Hells," he growls, running his fingers all over your entrance, "Look at you, you're dripping, princess."

His cock pulses in pain for release, watching you in complete delight as you moan with every movement of his fingers that collects your juices, spreading them all over your pussy, making you wiggle your hips against his hand.

"Aemond, please," you cry, needing to feel it inside you, now.

"What is it, baby? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to fuck this pretty pussy hard?"

He teases you, running his fingertips over your hole, making you moan, sigh and groan.

"Please, just fuck me, fuck me with your cock," you implore him.

"Yesah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please!"

"Only because you asked nicely."

He joins in, leaving you needy and trembling on your bed, spread wide open for him, watching as he removes his wet shorts and boxers, completely freeing his entire erect, heavy, hot, hard cock, just for you.

Your mouth waters at the sight and he proudly holds it in his hand, turning to make his way back to you, thrilling and scaring you at the same time as you've never had a cock like Aemond's inside you before.

"Do you take control pills? I don't have a condom."

"Yes, I take them, don't worry," you assure him instantly and he grins.

"Eager, huh?"

"Aemond," you groan and moan at the same time.

"Someone's acting like a little brat," he croons, starting to rub the tip of his cock against your pussy, making you shudder and moan, needing him inside you, "Behave yourself, princess. I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Stop teasing," you whine between whimpers.

When suddenly Aemond enters you in a single hard, firm movement that makes you release all the air in your lungs, moaning loudly at the rough intuition as he pulls it all out of you again.

"What did I say? Stop being a little brat and behave yourself," he warns you.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise."

You plead desperately and moan as he slams the tip against your pussy, to again enter you fully in a more careful and slower way, letting you feel all of him, making you moan.

"Oh fuck, Aemond," you moan his name, drunk with pleasure, closing your eyes tight.

"Yeah, just like that, squeezing me so fucking good, baby," he murmurs hoarsely in delight.

He stops once he's all the way inside you, letting you get used to his size, while you feel him pulsing inside you and all his heat flooding through you.

When he rolls his hips in a grunt and his tip touches exactly your swollen clit in need of release.

He leans fully into you, kissing your hot, sweaty skin, just like him, then slides all the way down to your bottom, where you feel every inch of his long, hard cock, moaning into his mouth, as your whole body trembles.

His hands run along your waist and thighs as he lifts both of your legs and places them around his torso, feeling him sink more easily inside you.

"You're so hot, baby. So fucking perfect," he growls against your lips, closing his eye and rests his forehead with yours as he begins his swaying hips back and forth.

"You're so deep," you moan, clinging to his back, lightly digging your nails into his pale skin.

This makes Aemond grunt and feel more desperation as he begins to penetrate you with more rhythm, all the way in, with hard movements that hit exactly that spot inside you that makes you squirm beneath him.

"Yes Aemond, right there," you moan.

"Yeah? Do you like it, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, yes."

You both gasp into each other's mouths, where then his dark gaze returns to your features and he watches you intently, never ceasing to slam his hips hard and deep against you.

"You're mine now, you know that, don't you?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

His words only make you clench tighter around him and you feel yourself slowly reaching your limit, each onslaught sending delicious waves all over your core that soothes your needy pussy.

"Say it," he demands forcefully, only this time to plunge your cock back into your wet pussy with a hard onslaught that knocks the air out of you, "Say you're mine."

"Yes," you gasp, "Yes, Aemond. I am yours," you manage to say it, "I am completely yours."

He smiles complacently and contentedly, never ceasing to move for a moment.

"Yes, you are," he croons, "You. Are. Mine," he rams you hard to the hilt on every accentuation, not giving you time to anticipate it, making you moan loudly in pleasure and pain, "And I don't fucking share."

He brings his lips back to your skin, marking and sucking on your breasts and neck even with his heavy cock inside you, fucking you hard and grunting against your ear telling you how tight you are.

He takes you completely over the edge, where your mind goes blank with each thrust, filling you completely, swelling inside you, as both you and he begin to gasp for breath, but he doesn't slow down or change his pace, continuing to penetrate you and press you against your bed.

Until finally everything inside you explodes, you see stars behind your eyes and Aemond's warm semen fills everything inside you, coming with an almost painful grunt in your ear and with a last strong thrust that leaves you drunk with pleasure and makes you forget everything for a moment.

Things didn't end with Aemond there, not at all.

He was honest with you when he told you that he wouldn't hurt you or make you just another girl on his list, just as he was honest in telling you that you are now his and he doesn't share.

After that day in your room, the little secret affair began.

When Aemond comes to your house along with Aegon, you both behave towards each other as you were before, completely indifferent.

You don't even speak to each other and avoid as much as possible to look each other, where no one suspects the two of you. And at school it's the same, although especially there you have to be more careful.

However, you and especially he are not entirely patient, so once you reach your limit, he secretly intercepts you in one of the empty classrooms or labs and you take advantage of that little moment as much as possible.

Even in the library, you both find a secluded corner between the shelves of books and can't keep your hands off each other, where Aemond makes you come on his fingers and sometimes you also dare to suck his cock, hoping not to be discovered.

As far as you know, he has not been seen with other and his usual girls, since almost all the time the two of you are texting each other and sometimes, when Cregan is not at home, you let him know and he comes as fast as he can, not missing the opportunity.

Already being in the four walls of your room, the two of you can do whatever you want without fear of being discovered, where Aemond fucks you against your mattress in all positions.

And sometimes, when things have not been in favor of either of you, he climbs through your window at midnight and unable to hold back any longer, he fucks you silently, silencing your moans with his mouth, hands or cock, since Cregan's room is at the end of the hallway.

And this lasts for a while, all in secret, where you look for small moments to share intimate moments, hidden caresses and soft whispers in your ear that only you and he can hear.

But of course, the good things can't last forever.

Jason Lannister, a friend of Cregan's, throws a Halloween party at his house and practically the entire school has been invited. So you see this as an opportunity to be able to be with Aemond for a few moments of the party.

Cregan dresses up as a wizard and you choose to dress up as a sexy sailor girl with a skirt that exposes your legs, a simple white blouse, you put on your tie and also your hat, and then you and Cregan head off to the party.

You immediately look for Aemond, but he is nowhere to be seen, even though you meet Aegon and his younger brother, Daeron.

However, not to be obvious, you start pouring yourself drinks and talking to your friends, starting to get into the same mood as everyone else because of the music with twinkling lights and also because of the whole decorated house.

You see Aegon talking to Cassandra Baratheon, dresses up as a vampire and she as an angel, then you see Alysanne talking to your brother, dresses up as a bunny, and then you keep looking around the party, not understanding where Aemond is.

You are about to send him a message, when you look absentmindedly towards the kitchen and then, there he finally is, only he is not alone.

Dresses up as a pirate, Aemond is chatting with his ex-girlfriend, the gorgeous Alys Rivers, dresses up as a witch.

You had been enjoying the party, but your mood inevitably changes and also without being able to help it, you feel a twinge of jealousy all over your insides, watching them intently.

They both talk, she occasionally laughs and places her hand on his chest, playfully smacking it, both of them too close, while you see Aemond's grin on his lips at all times, making the knot of jealousy in your stomach tighter.

And, you mean, you can't even blame him, she's Alys Rivers.

When then at that moment your gaze crosses his casually, who slowly wipes away his smile, but you quickly avert your gaze from him as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to act nonchalant.

But too late, he's already noticed your annoyed look.

However, you quickly make room with Aegon, Cassandra and Daeron, simply to dissemble in front of them and him as well. Then Cregan and Alysanne join in and of course so does he, but you don't even notice him and continue drinking.

You notice how he wants to approach you slyly on a few occasions, but you don't let him, you continue to laugh with Daeron, ignoring him altogether, not wanting to talk or be with him anymore.

Until the hour starts to get late and taking advantage of the fact that one of your friends is already leaving, you ask her to drop you off at your house and she accepts. You just tell Cregan, who nods and you leave the party with your friend.

And once you get home, you take off your costume, take a shower and get ready to sleep, although you should have expected Aemond to start calling you, but you send it to voicemail.

He calls you a couple of times more where you don't answer and you also get severe messages from him that you don't read, to finally leave your phone on mute and try to sleep.

But you barely last a few minutes with your eyes closed, suddenly you hear some sounds at your window.

You sit up confused in your bed, looking at your window, instantly knowing what it is or rather who it is, since only one person has the habit of doing this and you let out a long resigned breath.

Reluctantly you open your curtains and the window, where the figure of Aemond stands down there, watching you confused and attentive.

"What are you doing?" you reproach him sleepily.

"You're not answering my calls or texts," he tells you with some anger in his tone of voice, "And you ignored me the whole party."

You press your lips together in anger as well.

"It semeed to me like you were too busy," you can't help but say with some bitterness.

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a moment.

"It's not what you thin—

"No matter. Go home. I want to sleep," you cut him off, intending to turn away from your window.

"I swear to God Y/N, I'm not leaving until you listen to me," he warns you.

"It's after midnight!" you reproach him.

"Open the door," he demands.

"No," you say firmly.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"I don't care."

"Y/N," he warns you again.

"Stay there all night, I'm not opening for you."

You sentence and finally move away from the window, close it and close your curtains as well.

Feeling no remorse, you settle back into your bed, ready to sleep again, but only a few seconds pass when you hear noise again.

And that's when you realize you should have locked your windows.

You startle and turn your head to watch how Aemond is entering through your windows with the same agility as always, with a serious and threatening look, jumping into your room and you look at him angrily.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"You don't know what you just got yourself into," he says as he makes his way towards you.

"Fuck you," you spit back at him.

"Oh yeah, I just pretend to do that, princess."

"Alys wasn't available at this time that you decided to come and play with me?"

He lets out a long breath, rolling his eye.

"You're getting it all wrong—

"Oh I am?" you inquire, "She's your fucking ex, Aemond. I'm not stupid."

"In fact yes, you are being stupid right now, " he says, coming towards you.

And just before you can escape, he catches you, instantly grabbing you by both wrists, cornering you between him and your bed, climbing on top of you with a mischievous, menacing grin and his pupil fully dilated.

"Let go of me," you gasp, trying to shake him off.

"Listen to me—

"I mean it, get off me and get the fuck out of my house!"

He cocks his head.

"Where did this bratty attitude come from, hm?"

"Aemond," you plead, "Stop it."

"Oh baby," he croons, bringing his lips to your ear, "Can't you see? Can't you see how fucking crazy I am about you?" he murmurs hoarsely.

You try to fight your own urges, telling yourself that you shouldn't let yourself get carried away by him, that he can talk and fuck whoever he wants, while you are only exclusively for him and these are just empty words to convince you.

"Alys and I ended on good terms, we're just friends, it's nothing to worry about," he says earnestly in your ear, as your breath is cut short when you feel his knee make its way between your legs.

"Aemond," you whine.

"But if you want me to stop talking to her, fine, I will," he murmurs in understanding, only to feel his knee press lightly into your pussy, making you moan.

"Oh, A-aemond-" you try to say, feeling so good.

"Yeah, baby? What's wrong? Does it feel good?"

You can't formulate words, especially when he puts more pressure and makes you gasp more, just that making you feel good, only to then feel him drop almost his weight against you and now positioning himself between your legs, he starts rubbing his hard cock inside his pants against you, making you shudder.

Now he gasps along with you, as he lets go of your wrists and slides one of his hands under your shirt, kneading one of your breasts with ease as you sleep without a bra.

You arch your back against him and bite your bottom lip as he begins to leave soft kisses down your neck, never letting go of your touch and never stopping rubbing against you.

"Please, Aemond, please," you beg him, needing him.

He marks the skin of your neck, sucking and sucking, then brings his lips back to your ear.

"Now do you get it, princess?" he says hoarsely, "You're the only one who can make me play this fucking game of hide and seek with your brother and everyone else."

He says honestly, making you moan as he puts more pressure on his hips.

"But you know what? I've had enough and I don't fucking care if Cregan bothers or not. I don't give a shit."

You bring one of your hands to his face and turn him towards you, kissing him with need and depth where he responds in kind, where you are completely delighted by his caresses and words.

And that night Aemond fucks you from behind, hard and fast, while you hold the sheets tightly under you and avoid shushing your sobs and moans too loudly against the pillow, as every time you do, Aemond gives you a hard spank with his hand on one of your ass cheeks as a way of punishment for your bratty attitude earlier.

And he doesn't give you a chance to silence your moans as he gathers all your hair into a fist and makes your back arch, while his other hand takes it to hold your throat firmly and rests his cheek against yours to fuck you with more accessibility, fast and deep, bringing you to the peak several times.

And when it's all over, you melt into the arms of your perfect, official boyfriend.

thank you so much for reading!❤

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one shot

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hobis-hope95 · 3 months ago

Text

Blessed by the Gods pt.2

fancast!Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: You and Benji decide that, for the better or the worse, you'd follow through what you began. So, with a little help and some persuasion, you pursuit the permission you need to try for a happy ending, with Benjicot Blackwood always by your side.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, please DNI), some fluff (more than the last one), minor fighting description (no blood mentions though), swearing, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, kinda breeding kink, praising kink, mentions of pregnancy and a few self insertions from yours truly.

Authors note: Hey guys, so... I know I took long enough with this one and I'm sorry if I made anyone wait for so much time (I am a reader as well and I know how it is to wait that long). First I want to apologize for the format that this is being delivered (this is how I normally start an idea, but with so much that is going on in this final part I could not get myself to write it "fluidly", so I thought that this would be better than nothing, I'm so sorry ;-;), second is that I work in two hospitals and the free time I have I struggle to organize between sleeping, watching Kieran's tts, reading other fanfics, writing my own, having some quality time with my mom, playing with my dogs and studying for my postgraduate course (I don't know if this is how it's written but I think you get it) so it's a lot. But enough with all the excuses, I hope that you like it, even though I think I could've done better, and I'd love to get some opinions, because all constructive critics are valid and I'd love to know what can I do to get better!!

After all this blabber of mine, enjoy your reading! 🌻✨

Word count: 3.716

You both stayed in each other's arms for a while, talking about the future and kissing, before Benji decided that it was time they went to Raventree Hall to then head to Riverrun.

He stood, put back his breeches, and helped you stand, but as you did, you felt the ache in the middle of your thighs, your legs almost giving out as he held you firmly against his chest.

He didn’t say it with all letters, but he did feel his ego inflate in knowing you were struggling to walk because of him. But because of that he had to carry you on his back.

So, he covered you in his cloak, smoothing your dress and trying to sweep most of the dirt from it, before he knelt in front of you to carry you on his back (come on, bridal style may be more romantic but is way harder guys)

All the way to the castle you both teased each other “If you wanted me that much you could’ve asked, didn’t need to stalk me to the weirwood tree” He laughed, a smirk on his lips, and as you turned your face to take a glance at him, you sighed in disbelief “As if I would do such a thing, the one that doesn’t stop looking at me in the assizes and the boundary is you”

As you get to the castle, he orders you to cover your face with the hood and stay quiet. He gets inside without anyone questioning who he’s caring (but ofc with some staring at his back from the guards) and right after he gets to his room, closing the door and placing you seated in his bed, his aunt gets inside and you panic, facing the floor and pulling at the hood of the cloak.

“Who is that and why does the guards say they saw you carrying her from the woods, Benjicot?” She demands, her voice unaltered but her tone imposing respect, and he scratches his chin awkwardly “Uhm, that’s the daughter of Amos Bracken and, well, she fell in the woods”

You take the hood off, looking at the Black Aly, and admit “I am the one to blame, I went to the woods that I knew were in Blackwood territory, but still didn’t care for, then Benji found me and...”

You stopped talking, your mouth opened but extremely embarrassed to voice the rest of it, your cheeks blushing and feeling hot – even though the day wasn’t that warm – as you looked to Benjicot

“And we may have engaged in some more... let’s say... private activities” He awkwardly finished the thought, his brows furrowed, and you covered your face with both hands

“So, you are telling me you just couldn’t control yourselves and engaged in intercourse in the middle of the woods?” As Alysanne concluded, one hand massaging the bridge of her nose, Benji’s eyebrows shot up

“Well, putting it like that makes it sound-” You interrupted him as you stood up and hugged yourself

“Stupid and inconsequential, yes” You looked at him, accusing eyes making him point to himself as he mouthed an ‘me?’ but he didn’t stop your next words “He started the whole thing, but it wasn’t something that I didn’t want as well”

The older woman sighed and asked “What are you two going to do about it?” And for that Benji quickly responded “She’s going to need another dress, but the plan was to go to Riverrun and ask Kermit for him to engage us, so her father may accept it”

“I don’t know if you agree, but I found this as being the least conflicting way for us” You argued right after he stopped talking and Aly sighed

“I have to say that yes, it may be the best option, so I’ll help you. First, your clothes, come with me. You send a raven to Lord Kermit and ask for three horses to be ready in 15 minutes” The older woman said as she went to you, resting a hand on your back, and pointed to her nephew, who quickly went to his table to write the message

You went to Lady Alysanne’s chambers and changed to a black and red dress that was the closest to your size, her only arching her brows when she saw the ripped golden dress she’s just so done with their thoughtless actions

And soon enough you three were riding to Riverrun Benji was just so whipped to see you in his House colours and smirked when he saw you shift uncomfortably in the saddle

The ride was short and silent, and you thanked the gods when you arrived and had no sign of your father or any Bracken in there

When Kermit saw you walking to him together with the two Blackwoods, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance “Please do not tell me that it is about the boundary stones again”

“Actually, it isn’t. The matter is that we want to be wed, and we were willing that you could perhaps convince Lord Bracken to accept it” Benjicot said, and Lord Tully took a minute to process it all, his eyes widening as his brows shot up

“Okay, now I wished for it to be about the boundary stones” The poor Lord only wants to not deal with Bracken and Blackwood shit anymore, give the man a break

“Please, my lord, you are the only one able to convince my father and...” You shifted, nervously and embarrassed to what you were going to say “And?” He asked, but you just looked at Benji, who held your hand in his

“And we may expect for a pregnancy in the next few moons” A few of the servants that were in the room gasped and Kermit let out an incredulous laughter

“So you went that way, then? I truly cherish you, my friend, but why must you make my life so much harder?” He sighed before he called his maester inside “Please, send a message for Amos Bracken that I need to discuss urgent matters with him, with haste, and later send another message for house Frey, apologizing and saying their Lord Paramount had a change of plans”

“I’m really sorry, my lord” You took a step forward and bowed in apology, but he dismissed it “I knew one day or another this would happen, so do not worry, I just wished it had happened sooner, for now I must arrange another marriage for Forrester Frey”

After that you were all dismissed to rest until the arrival of Amos Bracken and you grabbed Benji's arm with a strong grip, mumbling as you turned to leave the hall “You made me sore, you idiot”

Benji almost choked trying not to laugh and replied “You have no idea of how it pleases me to know that”

And as soon as you are out of the great hall, Benji asks for a servant to take you to a place to rest and the servant complies, saying that it has already been arranged as she takes you to another room

After a couple of hours, you are requested to get back to the great hall for your father had arrived and when you get there he frowns in confusion

When Benji arrives right after you, his expression turns to pure rage

“Lord Amos, I know that I have granted you permission to marry your daughter to Forrester Frey” Kermit started as you placed yourself next to your father “But it seems to me that this union is not to be blessed, and another proposal seemed more reasonable”

“Excuse me, my lord, but what exactly do you mean by that?” Your father enquires and you feel your throat dry

“Lord Benjicot came to me with a really good proposal of bringing peace to both your families by marrying your daughter and me, as your Lord Paramount, see this as a good opportunity, one we should not miss because of our ego or unsolved matters of the past”

“You expect me to give my daughter to this- this boy who knows nothing about honour and will most likely corrupt her into hating her own family?”

You lowered your head when your father talked about corruption, remembering how just a couple hours ago you were more than eager to let yourself be bred by a Blackwood - and him only - and to carry his babe, and your face turned red with embarrassment

“You may find it surprising, lord Amos, but I do not care or have any intentions on corrupting anyone�� Liar, you thought, but wouldn’t dare to pronounce the words, as you lifted back your head to look at Benjicot, who had stepped closer to your father and yourself “I wish to marry her mostly for the prospect of peace and for that I would respect any of her wishes and let her as close to her family as possible”

“And why should I agree with it if you can possibly change your mind and just have her as someone to torture and use as a threat while you do as you please?” You wanted to say to your father to trust him, but that would sound as childish words with no guarantee whatsoever

“Because your daughter may, at this very moment, already be carrying my child and despite of what you believe, I do have honour, as I would not let this baby live without a father and I would never do any harm to the mother of my children”

If Amos Bracken was angry with Kermit’s proposal, now he was furious with Benji’s words, so much so that his face was becoming red

“What in the seven hells did you say about my daughter?” He turned to you, and you could not hide your fear, your eyes widening “What is he insinuating?”

After a moment of hesitation, you took a deep breath and answered, your hands closed in fists beside your body so tight that your nails were hurting your flesh “He is right father, I willingly laid with him and I do not wish for the child to grow apart from his father if I’m truly pregnant, but I would never stop loving my House and family, I swear”

In a fit of rage, lord Bracken turned back to Benjicot, grabbed his sword from his hips, and tried attacking the younger man

You were glad that lord Blackwood was as good with a sword as the rumours said, for his reaction was quick enough that before the blade could hit him, the loud *CLANG* of swords resonated through the hall

The guards wasted no time and in a moment were around both men and Kermit Tully raised from his seat

But before any men could react, you screamed as hard as you could, and took the advantage of their confusion to stand between your father and your lover

“Enough!!” You said – tired of being the good daughter and polite lady, moving with the adrenaline of it all – and turned to your father, letting Benji face your back “I know that what I did was not the best decision I could have done, but I did it, we did it, and I have no regrets”

“This feud between our Houses has been going on for too long and it’s time for some change and a bit of peace. We came to lord Tully for his approval, which he gave, and like it or not, my lord father, we are going to get married”

“I love you, mom and our family and I love our House, but- but between a marriage with someone twice my age for just another senseless alliance of yours and a Blackwood, I prefer the one with an alliance that would truly benefit both”

All men in the room with swords in hand lowered their arms, Benjicot being the first one, and after a few long seconds with your eyes on his, your father gave in

“It had to be a Blackwood?” He asked, his sword lowered next to his body, and you answer “I know, I’m sorry father, but you can’t control one’s heart”

You and your father have a cute little moment, he hugs you and all, and after all calmed down, he apologizes to lord Tully and agrees with the proposal

Your engagement would last 3 weeks, so it could be properly arranged, which made you grunt a little but accept it anyway

That night all of you feast on Riverrun – as it was already too late to get back – and to your surprise, after the first minutes of awkwardness, your father and Benjicot started getting on seemingly well

You and Benji had time to get to know each other better, forgetting the rest of the world as you laughed at his stories, both whipped as hell

And when he discovered that you actually frequently went to that one clearing, he praised your hiding abilities

And for the next three weeks you spend all the time you can together in your short courtship, but rarely alone

When Benji would come to Stone Hedge, one of your father’s guards or your mom’s servants would follow you and never lose sight

When you went to Raventree Hall, Black Aly would make sure that the same happened

Even when you’d meet outside, near the boundary or walking through the woods, someone would always follow

Still, that didn’t prevent you to hold hands, sit on the grass with your legs touching or him to bring your faces together for a delicate kiss to your lips

All the light touches, the way he would lick his lips and open a smirk while looking at yours and the way he would purposely choose narrow paths in the woods to guide you from behind – his hands never leaving your hips and his mouth blowing on your ear every time he spoke – were driving you crazy, leaving you lightheaded and with reddened cheeks

And he adored your reactions, proudly smirking when you shifted on your seat or avoided his gaze the devil in disguise, that little shit

And speaking of this, he loved when you tried to provoke him as well, with your lingering touch on his arm or chest, the way you’d lean down and your chest would be on full display, and how you’d kiss his cheek for longer than necessary

By the day before your marriage, both were desperate for one another, but still kept it on those soft touches and light kisses

After two weeks you sadly discover that you aren’t pregnant, for your monthly comes one day after waking up and feeling cramps on your lower abdomen. Even so, that was long forgotten, and you knew that soon enough you’d have more than enough times to try for a pregnancy

The Wedding Day

You both decided that the ceremony would be held by the Old Gods tradition, but instead of choosing the Godswood in Stone Hedge or Raventree Hall, you agreed it would take place on that beautiful clearing in the woods

The ceremony felt almost magical, the moon so beautiful in the night sky throwing rays of light between the leaves, and Benjicot felt like his heart could just jump out of his chest when he saw you dressed all in white

As your father and the guests held torches to guide you to your groom, who was standing right in front of the weirwood tree next to his aunt, you felt the happiest woman on earth

As Alysanne Blackwood started the ceremony with the question “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” You felt like you could burst, your heart beating as fast as it could be

As the few sentences are exchanged between your father and your aunt-to-be, they both turn to you, who quickly answers Aly’s last question “I take this man”

The ceremony continues and soon enough you are lifted in Benji’s arms, your faces just a breath away, as he carries you to the wedding party, being the last ones to leave the clearing

“Who would say that this clearing could bring a couple together?” You asked after taking a last glance at the place

“We may never know how the Gods work, but they do find their way to bring people together” He smirked at you as you blushed, remembering that day that already felt long gone, and he leaned in to kiss you, your hand on his nape as you gave in to his sweet lips

When you both arrived at the feast, the guests all cheer and soon enough you both are dancing, feasting and talking to some of the too many faces in the room

Most of the night Benji is right next to you, a possessive hand on the small of your back, and you are glad to see that he pays no attention to other women present there, safe from his aunt and your mother

After three or four hours of all that, noticing that the guests are far from leaving, you quietly ask your husband “Do we need to stay any longer?”

“I was about to suggest for us to leave, actually” He answer as the hand on your back starts to lightly push you towards the small door in a corner of the big dining hall

“Don’t we need to inform anyone about us leaving?” You ask, quickly looking through the room, but he just says that your absence would be noticed soon enough

Your steps are quick, both too eager to get to your shared chambers to actually care if anyone saw you both almost running through the halls which a few servants did, but no comments were made apart from something on the lined of ‘oh, those youngsters in love’

Barely making an effort to close the door behind you, Benjicot lost no time before hovering over you, his hands on your hips pulling you as close as he could and his lips smashing over yours

Differently from your last time, your husband now took his time on undressing you, taking care for nothing to rip apart or hurt you in the process

And after both of you were fully naked, his warmth welcoming you closer, he took you in his arms and lied you on the big bed

“Now is when I break your father’s hopes of not corrupting you, for I want to hear your sweet voice saying you’re all mine, wife” He said as his lips roamed through your skin, leaving love bites and kisses along the way until he got to the middle of your thighs

He ate you out like you were his own private feast, each moan and little quiver making him more invested on making you cum

When one of your hands pulled on his hair, he moaned against your cunt, the vibrations hitting right at your clit, and you moaned his name like a prayer

Not long after he squeezed two fingers inside you, hitting the spot that made you see stars repeatedly, curling them inside you as his tongue worked on your clit

Soon enough you nearly screamed when your orgasm hit you like a powerful wave, your whole body turning into melted iron

Benjicot didn’t stop right away, slowly and carefully reducing his pace, and only then did he lifted his head, your fluids leaving almost half of his face glistening

“Husband, please, I want you inside me now” You whined, feeling a slight breeze hit your sensitive core as he moved back to be face to face with you

“So bossy and so beautiful” Benji said as he saw your expression, blown watery pupils looking at him, pleading for him to take you “My lady Blackwood, do you want my cock that bad?”

“Yes, I want you, please” You begged, your hands reaching for any part of him you could touch

He leaned down to kiss you, your taste on his tongue, and he stroked himself before aligning his tip to your entrance

And when he got inside you, oh Gods how you loved this

This time with all the time in the world, he made love to you, shifting his pace every so often to make it last but also giving in to his desires

In no time, both of you started to moan each other’s names, talking about belonging to each other and exchanging sloppy kisses

When he felt your walls tighten around his cock, he hurried himself and soon after you came together, your moans mixing when he kissed you

After catching his breath, he held your hips and rolled you both on the bed, lying on your sides and retreating from inside you, your legs tangled in a comfortable position

“I love you” After a moment of silence you let out, your eyes scanning his in fear of rejection, but all you saw was a soft expression, a bright smile on his face that brought butterflies to your stomach

“One month ago I would’ve rejected the idea of even liking you, but now I cannot think of living without you” He brushed a lock of your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead “In these three weeks you taught me to love you, to crave your attention and your smile and now I can’t wait to form a family with you”

“I can’t wait to bear your children, husband” You said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and he pulled you closer by the hip, a smirk on his face

“So we better not waste any more time, wife” Benji said before turning you on your back again

The two of you loved each other for the rest of the night and all nights that followed, so soon enough your pregnancy was announced and the promise of a family finally came to fruition.

The love for each other only grew as time passed by and a peace that few believed to be possible was finally a reality in the Riverlands.

So that's it, again I'm really sorry for the way I delivered this to y'all, but I just couldn't delay it anymore trying to fit it all together like a full text.

Thank you for all the likes, reblogs and comments in part one and feel free to leave a comment, I'd love that! 🌻✨

Tag: @jevoislavieenrouge

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot #bloody ben #benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd #house of the dragon #Isa🌻✨

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 month ago

Text

"Wilder Than Any Eight Second Ride" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: At the annual Honky-Tonk Halloween Party, Reader and Steve find themselves having a little bull-riding competition. When Steve isn't pleased with the results, he demands a rematch… in the bedroom.

Pairing: Bullrider!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,545

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, cowgirl activities, against the wall activities, creampie, bondage, marking a lil bit, nicknames (princess, sweetheart, baby, cowgirl; daddy once i think), explicit language, alcohol mentions since it takes place at a bar, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i missed writing for these two individuals

Originally Written: 10/20/2024 through 10/24/2024

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

The air was buzzing, filled with the smell of alcohol and sweat. “Elvira” by The Oak Ridge Boys blared through the speakers, though it was barely heard over the crowd of probably two hundred people chattering amongst themselves. The annual Honky-Tonk Halloween celebration was officially underway.

Steve, as per usual, looked absolutely delectable, even in his cheaply made, party store costume. He used his hot-pink bandana to wipe up a spill on the bar, and something about the sight sent heat straight to your core.

“See something you like, Western Barbie?” he smirked, never taking his eyes off the spilled alcohol.

You met him with a similar smirk. “Just admiring the view, Cowboy Ken.”

Dark brown eyes finally met your own gaze as he finished cleaning up the puddle of beer on the counter. “You sure that's the only thing going on in that pretty head of yours?” You could tell he was already a little buzzed himself; his accent got thicker when he was under the influence.

“Other than how I'm totally gonna kick your ass at the mechanical bull riding competition?” you asked with an eye roll.

Steve met you with a daring expression, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “What makes you so sure you're winnin’? Considering I ride actual bulls for a living, I've got a little bit of a leg-up on ya, princess.”

You walked around to the other side of the bar, standing face to face with him and placing your hands on his chest. A gasp nearly escaped you at how rock-solid his chest felt underneath the jacket he currently sported, but you chose not to comment on it, considering how much you already inflated his ego on the daily. “Mmm, see, I also have a little riding experience of my own under my belt.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked, leaning down a little closer to you.

You simply met him halfway, leaning in for a playful kiss. “Well, what can I say? I've had a really good teacher.”

His hand swatted at your butt as you walked away, and the sound of Steve chuckling could be heard even through the chaos of everything else happening in the bar. He quickly followed after you, his long legs catching up in just a couple strides.

The crowd of half-drunk bull-riding fans cheered Steve on as he approached the mechanical bull. With a smirk, he climbed up, confident that he'd win this little competition between the two of you. “Start her up!” he hollered to the operator.

The machine started up, and immediately his hips began twisting in a way that should've been illegal in public, in your opinion anyway. One hand met his Stetson, while the other held tight to the handle of the bull. His jeans were ridiculously tight, showing off the curves of his ass and bulge as he rocked back and forth. It was dirty, practically erotic, and he soaked up every moment of the ride with his head thrown back. While he looked like an overdone version of a cowboy in a western movie, he looked like a damn good version of the stereotype.

“Think you can keep up with me this time, princess?” he called, practically grinding against the fake saddle.

Your scoff in reply could probably be heard in the parking lot. “You wish you could keep up with me!”

The comment must've been enough to catch him off guard, because as he laughed at your response, he came tumbling down from the machine and onto the safety mat.

He turned to look at the operator, who simply replied with, “Eighteen seconds.”

“Oooof,” you let out, trying to sound regretful. “Sounds like someone's slacking in their preseason. Your trainer's not gonna be too happy, Steven.”

He rolled his eyes, patting your ass again. “Let's see you do any better, cowgirl,” he said, lifting you by the hips onto the mechanical bull.

With a confident smile, you signaled for the operator to start up the machine again. You made a show of grinding your hips against the faux saddle, and in a similar fashion to Steve, your opposite hand that wasn't holding onto the bull flew to your sparkly cowgirl hat.

You whooped and shouted as you held onto the bull, your confidence never ceasing. All eyes were on you, though the only pair you cared about belonged to someone who'd seen these moves from you a million times. And just for him, you twisted your hips a little extra, all for his enjoyment.

Time seemed to slow as you fell off the mechanical bull and onto the mat below. Steve was quick to make his way over, offering a strong hand and helping you up from the floor. “Impressive,” he commented. “Not sure if it was enough to beat the champ, though.”

“We'll just see about that,” you replied confidently, turning to the machine's operator and asking for your results.

When he replied with, “Twenty-two seconds,” a pleased squeal left your lips. Your husband simply rolled his eyes, demanding a rematch.

With a shake of your head, you said, “No can do, Cowboy Ken. Results are final.” And then, “It's all in the hips, you know.”

“You forget who taught you that phrase?” he quipped. Then, as if just registering your first sentence, he said, “And final my ass.”

When you smiled about your accomplishment again, a hand swatted at your butt a third time. And then, a suggestive glint appeared in his eye as he whispered, “I think I know of a way we can have our rematch without interrupting all these people waiting for the bull…”

That was how you found yourselves wandering away from the party and up the stairs to your apartment, hands on each other the whole way. As soon as Steve opened the door, his lips were on yours, his hands meeting your hips and his foot moving to kick the door closed. As often as you and Steve were on each other, you couldn’t recall a time when the door had been closed the proper way.

In a matter of seconds, both your hat and Steve's had been tossed aside, along with his jacket. Your hands met his hair as he kneeled in front of you, making quick work of your cowgirl boots and nipping at your clothed thighs. Perhaps he should've been a magician for Halloween with the way he could manage to make your clothes disappear

He kicked off his own boots, a skill he'd managed to cut down to five seconds flat. While he worked on the fastening of his own pants, you easily slipped yours off, leaving you in nothing but a bandana, vest and a pair of lacy panties that left little to the imagination.

Steve groaned at the sight as his lips met your neck, the vibration sending heat straight through you. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, fingernails digging into your love handles ever-so-slightly.

“Even dressed as a party store Barbie?” you smirked, the sentence being cut off by a sigh as his hand moved to cup your clothed core.

“Especially dressed as a party store Barbie.” His thumb rubbed a soft circle against your covered clit, eliciting a noise of approval from you.

A moment later, his pants and boxers were shoved down and tossed aside, leaving him completely bare for you. He didn't even bother to undo your vest, instead focusing on discarding the white lace to get to where he wanted to feel you most. You couldn't help the moan that left your lips as the air hit your most sensitive spots.

Lips were on lips as Steve lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he forced the two of you backward into your bedroom. A small sound of both pain and pleasure came from you as your back hit the wall, overtaken by another, hungrier sound as the head of his cock teased at your entrance.

“Fuck,” you whined, canting your hips forward. You were desperate, oh so desperate, for him to be inside you at any capacity.

Still, Steve wasn't giving in that easily. “Gotta beg for it, princess. Otherwise, I don't know what you want.” He knew exactly what you craved, but he could be a dominant asshole sometimes, wanting to see just how far he could push you.

“I want to ride you,” you said, the words coming out in a sigh. Your hands pulled his face to yours, your lips meeting in a needy kiss and your tongues moving together hungrily.

With that simple sentence, Steve shifted your hips and used the space to push inside you. Both of you let out a synced groan, your body instinctively squeezing around his length.

Teeth nipped at his shoulder, eliciting a rather loud moan from his mouth as you sucked on his skin. “As sexy as that is, you know I got that Calvin Klein shoot coming up,” Steve reminded you.

You smirked at the thought. Steve “The Hawk” Harrington, had been invited by the Calvin Klein team to do his own campaign. The shoot was in just a few days, the two of you flying out to New York bright and early the next Monday. Every time you thought about him in those signature boxers, posing by a poolside, you nearly started to salivate.

A wicked expression lit up your face as you scratched at his chest this time, another moan coming from his lips. Clearly he was enjoying the feeling, but the rational side of his brain took over as he thrusted into you a little harder.

“Baby, as much as I love- fuck- the way it feels to have you marking me up,” he started to say, hips rolling into yours all the while, “I have to make sure I look my best for the photoshoot.”

“I think you look your best when you're all marked up,” you pouted, feigning innocence. With another nip at Steve's shoulder, you scratched him again, just to see what he'd do. His reaction wasn't quite what you expected, but it was still welcomed and still extremely sexy.

His hand met your neck, undoing the bright pink bandana that had been tied there. In one swift movement, he had you on the bed, pinning both of your arms above your head. With a nearly evil look, he tied your wrists together. “Bet you won't disobey now, huh?” he remarked, emphasizing his win with another deep roll of his hips.

Despite the restriction, you still managed to meet his thrusts like your life depended on it. Steve's name rolled off your tongue like a mantra, your way of showing him how you needed more of him, all of him.

Steve wrapped an arm around your body as he flipped the two of you over, giving you what you'd asked for earlier. His signature phrase, “Giddy up, cowgirl,” tumbled from his mouth, those three words only fueling you on.

His hands gripped your love handles, lifting you up and down his length. The restraint only made the scene that much more filthy, whine after whine falling from your lips.

The smell of sweat and sex wafted through the air, the partying crowd from downstairs being completely forgotten as the scent overtook you. They could be right outside your door, and honestly neither of you would care. As long as you were together, your bodies connected in any capacity, you didn't care who was around.

One of Steve's hands stayed on your hips while the other snaked between your bodies. His thumb rubbed circles over your aching clit, his eyes hooded as he watched you near your release.

“There ya go, cowgirl,” he encouraged, his fingers and dick working in tandem to please you just how you needed. “Take whatever you need from Daddy.”

His praise only made you keen further, your back arching and your mouth falling slack at just how much pleasure he was currently bringing you. To the best of your abilities, you bounced on his length a little harder, mentally cursing him for tying your hands together when you so desperately wanted to be gripping his shoulders or his hair.

“Stevie, please,” you begged. “I'm so close, but I can't-” Your sentence was cut off by a whimper as he thrusted up into you.

He knew exactly what you needed, finishing the statement for you. “If you can promise to not leave any more marks, I'll take it off, okay?”

You nodded, but obviously it wasn't enough, considering he once again told you to use your words. Another plea left your lips, this time telling him exactly what you needed.

With one flick of his finger, he undid the fastening around your wrists. Desperately, your hands met his hair, tugging at the tussled strands.

A chuckle rumbled through Steve's chest, the sound simultaneously hot and annoying. “Not sure Calvin will appreciate it if I show up all covered in marks.”

“I don't know,” you managed to smirk, your climax inching further as you continued to take his cock as deep as you could. “He might not, but I'm sure your female fans will.”

Ever the gentleman, he just leaned forward and kissed your neck with a juxtaposing sweetness to the otherwise lewd scene. “You're the only female fan I care about, sweetheart.”

The words made you clench around him. His thumb caressed your clit, the movement somehow both sweet and dirty. You were so close, and by the sudden twitch of his cock inside you, you could tell he was too.

“You're so beautiful,” he repeated, his lips meeting your wrist with a gentle kiss. Despite the earlier urgency, the air now had a level of soft intimacy to it that you simply couldn't explain. It was like that with Steve; one minute, he was a desperate mess, and the next, he was showing you how much he loved you.

The compliment was just what you needed to push you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Steve quickly followed suit, his seed filling you up just how you always wanted.

You both collapsed in each other's arms, his now softening cock still buried inside you as he held your body close. His lips peppered what skin he had access to outside of your vest, his hands softly caressing your hips.

“Steve?” you said after a while of just laying there, just being together.

He hummed in question, too tired to form a full sentence.

You leaned up to look at him, a cheeky grin taking over your otherwise blissed-out face. “Not sure if you tying my wrists together was the sexiest thing or the meanest thing you've ever done.”

Steve met you with a smirk. “Can't it be both?”

With a roll of your eyes, your lips landed on his, and in that moment, you decided if you were to die just like that, you'd at least die a happy woman.

“I'll tell you what, though,” Steve said, a tired drawl to his words as he pulled you closer. “You sure are wilder than any eight second ride I've ever done.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” you smiled giddily, meeting him halfway for another kiss.

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

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vodika-vibes · 13 days ago

Note

You mentioned posdibly doing a Kit x Reader x Monnk, where Kit is a Sith Lord trying to corrupt Young Jedi Knight Reader, and decides to do that by seducing the reader with the help of Monnk.

If it's no trouble, can I request that you write that, please?

Beauty's Wicked Wiles

Summary: Being a Jedi with the Galaxy the way that it is, is hard. It’s so hard. But you like to think it’s worth it. At least, that’s what you think right up until you realize that you’re being courted by a Sith Lord and his right hand.

Pairing: Sith! Kit Fisto x Jedi F!Reader x Purge Commander!Monnk

Word Count: 2840

Warnings: Reader gets injured

A/N: So this is kind of a flip to canon Star Wars. So everyone who was a Jedi is now a sith, and all of the Sith are now Jedi. This story has been done for several days now, and I'm pretty sure that it's not 100% what you wanted, but I'm so bad at writing seduction. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Click HERE to be added to my Taglist

“Why are you so damned cheerful?” You ask, grouchily, at the much taller man standing across from you. The much taller man who’s wielding a red lightsaber that, you’re pretty sure, is taller than you are.

“What’s there to not be cheerful about?” Sith Lord Kit Fisto asks as he twirls his blade with an expert precision that makes you want to shove said lightsaber up his ass. Sideways.

“You’re the embodiment of pure evil! You’re not allowed to be cheerful!” Okay, yes. That’s a child’s way of looking at things, but damn it, you’ve been trapped on this hell hole of a planet for weeks, you’re soaked, and freezing and you just want to go home, but you can’t because the Jedi don’t have a home and it’s all his fault.

…well, maybe not his fault, personally, but right now you’re in such a foul mood you’re inclined to blame him for everything, including inflation.

“I think our Dove is feeling a bit grumpy, General.” You twitch when you hear Commander Monnk’s voice from the left. You’re not going to look at him, because he’ll have that stupid smile on his face, and you’ll stop being angry when you see it.

Stupid charming Monnk and his stupid charming face.

“Are you cold, Dove?” Kit asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “I have a nice warm jacket you can use.”

“I’m fine!” Though you might as well be talking to a brick wall for all the good it does when a massive jacket gets flung over your head. “I think I hate you.” You mumble to the jacket.

“There you go! Go ahead and put it on, Dove!”

For a moment, you consider throwing the jacket into the river next to you. There’s nothing wrong with being a little petty, right? Only just as you think that, you shiver violently.

Dying from pettiness would be so in character for you, but also so embarrassing.

So, grudgingly, you pull the jacket on over your robes.

It swallows you whole.

“...it’s too big.” Of course it is, the jacket was made for a Nautolan man, not a human female. You won’t be able to fight while wearing this thing.

Plus, and worst of all, you can feel Kit and Monnk smothering their desire to call you cute. As if the humiliating nickname of Dove wasn’t bad enough.

“I’m leaving,” You announce, before you point your unlit, lightsaber at Kit, “Don’t follow me.” And then you turn to point at Monnk, “You either.”

“But what if you fall and get hurt?” Monnk asks.

“Then let me die in a ditch.”

“Nonsense! We’ll come with you!” Kit says cheerfully, “Just to your ship.”

“Absolutely not!” You’re going to lose this argument. Just like the last one. And the one before that. And every single verbal altercation you’ve ever gotten into with Kit and Monnk.

Kit and Monnk have been enamored with you since the day they first met you. That same day is the day you were christened with the nickname Dove, and they’ve been haunting you ever since.

And, although they both have completely different morals than you, you’ve never felt like you were in danger from them. You once got overwhelmed while on a mission, and Kit and Monnk came to your rescue.

They’re…horrifically confusing. And you wish that Master Dooku would do something about it. But he won’t, claiming that Kit and Monnk are not a real threat to you, so his hands are tied.

You take a step back, being careful to not step on the hem of the jacket. Tripping would just be too humiliating.

Later, you wouldn’t be able to explain what happens next. Maybe it’s the cold. Or the exhaustion. Or maybe you’re just not paying attention. Because the next thing you know the ground crumbles beneath your feet.

What you do remember is the way your stomach drops as the sinkhole appears beneath your feet and you start to fall. You remember the realization that you’re too tired to catch yourself. And you remember hearing two voices calling your name as you fall.

Funnily enough, the last real thought you have is being surprised that they remember your real name.

Luckily enough, you don’t remember the fall…or hitting the bottom.

“She’s going to be pissed that we brought her here,” Monnk says from where he’s sitting next to a bacta tank, his eyes not once leaving the young woman floating in the bacta.

The blue of the bacta makes her look sickly, but he can’t seem to bring himself to tear his gaze away from her.

What had started as a, slightly ridiculous, plan to coax a young Jedi knight into falling to the dark side and joining them, has grown into something real. Something important.

The memory of her falling into that sinkhole is going to haunt his nightmares for years.

“It’s not as if the people of the planet we were on were going to help her,” Kit says from where he’s sitting on a bed across the room. Monnk doesn’t even have to look at him to know that his General hasn’t taken his eyes off their Dove. “She’ll get over it.”

Monnk hums in agreement. Their Dove is a bit stubborn, she might not forgive them. But so long as she’s alive to be angry, then he doesn’t care. “Her robes made her look bigger than she is.” He notes, his gaze dropping to her stomach, where he can see her ribs.

He hears Kit move on the bed, “The Jedi are starving.” His General doesn’t sound happy about that, and Monnk thinks he understands. This…whatever it is, that exists between the Jedi and the Sith is no longer open hostility, so much as a slightly hostile rivalry.

The Sith don’t actually want the Jedi to die out. As Kit once explained it, they’re two halves of the same coin. If the Jedi die out, then so will the Sith. One can’t exist without the other.

Balance in all things, Kit once said with a solemn nod. The Jedi run the various Corps, after all. AgriCorps, MediCorps, EduCorps, ExploraCorps. Without the Jedi, all four organizations will collapse, and then the Galaxy will tumble back to the dark ages.

Monnk’s gaze drifts across his Dove’s body for a moment, even in bacta she’s still covered in bruises. “She’s going to be alright, right?”

“Yes. She is.” Kit sounds so sure, that Monnk is almost positive that he’s trying to convince himself of that fact. “Our Dove is a fighter,” He hears Kit get off the hospital bed, and so doesn’t even twitch when heavy hands land on his shoulders, “Will you stand watch?”

“That’s a stupid question, Kit.”

The Sith laughs and Monnk feels lips against the top of his head, “I know, but I had to make sure that someone I trust will be watching over her.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to send a message to Dooku to inform him of what happened.” Kit shrugs, “And ask if they need more food or medical supplies.”

“He won’t accept the help.”

“He might if I phrase it as helping their little ones.” Kit shrugs and then releases Monnk to leave the room, “Comm when she gets pulled from the bacta tank.”

“Yeah, will do,” Monnk replies, and then he’s alone with his Dove. His gaze drags across her pretty face, pretty even with the bruises and gashes marring her features, “You have no idea how much you mean to us, do you?”

All in all, their Dove remains in a Bacta tank for almost two whole weeks, and even after she’s pulled out, she’s still confined to a private medical room due to the severity of her injuries.

Bacta does a lot, but it’s not a miracle worker.

When she finally opens her eyes, Monnk has to fight the urge to fling his arms around her. And even then, he only doesn’t because of the way that Vacc, his younger brother, is glowering at him.

He’s glad he listens to the silent threat when he sees just how much pain she’s still in.

“Hey, Dove,” Monnk’s never seen her with her hair loose. She almost always wears it in a strict braid or knot on the back of her head. Her hair hanging loose makes her look younger, and he can’t help himself from brushing a curl (her hair is curly!) off her cheek.

She doesn’t even seem to have to energy to glare at him for the nickname that he knows she hates.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Her voice is raspy, likely from the ventilator she needed after they pulled her from the sinkhole.

“I’m not surprised, you fell almost 250 feet,” Monnk replies.

“How am I not dead?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. It’s the closest damn thing to a miracle as I’ve ever seen.” Monnk replies. This is…nice. Just talking with her without her throwing insults at him. “Kit will be here soon. He’s been worried.”

“That his favorite punching bag will die?” She sounds bitter about it.

Monnk winces, “Is that how you think we see you?”

She just glares at him, and yeah. Okay. That’s fair. They do tend to go out of their way to bother her.

“That’s not it at all. You’re important to us.”

“Sure.”

The door opens before Monnk can answer. Kit looks around the room, and then beams at her, “Dove! You’re awake!”

She winces away from him, and Kit pauses at the door. The larger man does something to make himself seem smaller, even to Monnk, and their Dove seems to relax slightly on the bed. A force thing, maybe?

“How are you feeling?” Kit continues.

“Bad.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure that Vacc will get you all patched up.”

“When can I go home?” She asks, and Monnk can almost see when her guard rises. She doesn’t trust him, but she views Kit as an actual threat to her person.

“This is a perfectly acceptable medical facility—”

“I refuse to be indebted to you.” She interrupts, and the room falls silent.

Kit releases a slow breath, “You don’t trust us.”

“No. I don’t.”

Kit watches her for a moment, “We love you.” Monnk knows, immediately, that it’s the wrong thing to say.

Her face twitches, “So what? That’s your problem, not mine.” And then her eyes narrow at him, “Or did you think that saying that would encourage me to join you? That I’m just some vapid girl who’ll fall at the first sign of affection?”

“We never thought that,” Monnk interjects smoothly, “Your independence is one of the things we’re both attracted to.” She turns her glare onto him, and his winces.

This conversation is a damned minefield and he’d like an evac, now, please.

Kit closes his eyes for a moment, “Dooku will be here in a couple of days to pick you up. But we’re not done trying to win you over.”

She scoffs, “I’d like to be alone now.” Neither man moves for a moment, and then Monnk sighs and stands.

“Come on, Kit. I’m sure we have work to do.”

You think it’s kind of scummy that Kit and Monnk are trying to seduce you when you’re still trapped in a hospital bed.

It starts with flowers. Paper flowers, but flowers all the same. Delivered by Monnk with a sheepish smile. He admits that he learned to make them while he was watching over you when you were in the bacta tank.

That night, Kit and Monnk have their dinner in your infirmary room. They bring your favorite food, though you know you haven’t told them what you prefer meal-wise. Kit admits that they were told about your preferences on another planet months ago.

The following morning, Monnk washes and braids your hair for you, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to. Even though you swear you can do it on your own. His touch is so gentle that you find yourself relaxing without meaning to.

Kit eats lunch with you, and much to your surprise, the pair of you spend two hours debating the pros and cons of each other's fighting styles. Kit admits that he finds it impressive that you’ve managed to weave Makashi and Soresu together so smoothly. And you can’t help but ask why he’s chosen to specialize in Form I when there are better combat forms available.

Once again, both Monnk and Kit join you for dinner. Monnk brings a movie that you’ve never seen before. And, though you’d never admit it, it’s a nice night. Kit leaves before Monnk does when a disaster needs his management, and Monnk stays just long enough to tuck a curl behind your ear and offer you a fond smile.

The next day, you sleep through breakfast and lunch, intentionally. You don’t want to give them any more chances to worm their way into your heart. And when Master Dooku appears later than evening, you’ve never been so happy to see the severe man.

Kit and Monnk are much less happy to see you go, but honestly, you’re pretty sure that healing will go so much better when you aren’t anxious about what they’re going to do next.

For some reason, you think that being brought back to the Jedi temple (it’s not a temple, not really) will stop Kit and Monnk from trying to woo you. You’re wrong.

Because the first morning you wake up in your apartment, you get a delivery from them that has a new robe as well as your favorite tea in it, as well as a pair of love letters.

You want to be annoyed, but…as you find yourself reading the letters a third and then a fourth time, you realize that you’re fucked.

But, even that realization isn’t planet-shattering. It’s not like they can make you fall. You have too much self-control for that.

And so, life goes on. You continue getting letters and trinkets, even though you never write back, and your affection for Kit and Monnk keeps growing. But you’re still not concerned, it’s not like you’re going to act on it.

Then, late one evening, while you’re on a mission to the outer rim, you stumble over a scene that changes everything.

It was a relief mission. There was a natural disaster, and you were sent to help look for survivors, as well as help collect the deceased. It was a simple mission, there was no reason for the Sith or their army to be there.

But, as you follow a map that’s supposed to lead you to a compound that was hit especially hard by a mudslide, you come across Kit’s battalion. Kit’s battalion is being attacked by, what looks like, battle droids and soldiers wearing strange armor.

It’s not your business. You’re here to save people.

But you can’t help but move closer to the fight. And you watch, your heart sinking, as Monnk gets knocked to the ground by an assassin droid. By the time the man moves so he’s standing over Monnk, you’re already moving to intervene.

You’re too far away.

You won’t be able to save Monnk.

He’s going to die.

Time seems to slow around you, and you push the force to help you move faster, to help you get to Monnk in time to save him. There’s a flash of orange, as your lightsaber swings wide, cutting the force user in two.

You’re standing over Monnk defensively, your heart racing, and your arms tingling. You don’t know how you got there so fast, it shouldn’t have been possible, and yet you did.

You feel Monnk get to his feet, more than you hear or see it, and you turn your head to look at him. For a moment, he doesn’t move, and then he reaches up and pulls his helmet off, letting it fall to the ground with a thunk.

“Monnk? What—”

His hands are on your cheeks, and he tilts your head back slightly, “Dove, your eyes are yellow.”

You feel a spark of annoyance, he couldn’t even thank you for saving his life? And then his words hit home. You attacked out of fear. Not for yourself, but for another person.

You touched the dark.

You fell.

It wasn’t supposed to be so easy.

“I—” You don’t know what to say, and then it doesn’t matter because Monnk is kissing you, and his lips are warm and surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but respond to the kiss.

“Really, Monnk? In the middle of a battle?” Kit’s voice is light and teasing, and Monnk pulls away from you, a wide grin on his face.

“She saved me, Kit.”

“I saw.” His hand settles on the back of your head, and somehow you’re surprised when his lips settle over yours. Though, at the same time, you’re not surprised at all.

It’s not like Kit, or Monnk, have been subtle about their intentions towards you.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #Jedi Master Kit Fisto x Reader x Commander Monnk #Kit x reader x monnk #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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mylovelies-docx · 1 year ago

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 8

I apologize for not posting last week. How about this longer chapter to make up for it?

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: First day of HYDRA work, social gatherings

Word Count: 2,270

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7]

The next morning dawned bright and chilly. You only know this because you happened to pass by a window covered in frost on your way to one of the HYDRA labs within the facility.

Your first few hours on site had you running through various tests and exams to study your mental capacity and knowledge on the interest that HYDRA holds in the biology field. There was nothing shocking or unexpected that your new supervisors asked you, but the implications of what they expect from you sends shivers down your spine. You studied and memorized and read for weeks in preparation for this assignment last year, and you’re so glad that your brain retains this kind of information like a sponge – you’d have been disposed of on the spot if your background hadn’t checked out.

But now you’ve ‘officially’ joined HYDRA. The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you wash it down with the knowledge that what you’re doing is going to help the world by eliminating whatever disgusting and horrible work is being done here.

The plan is to spend as much time as it takes to gain HYDRA’s confidence in your abilities and allow you access to the higher level projects – the world-ending projects. This could take weeks. Or months. Hopefully not years? Being Bucky’s sister for that long would drive you insane.

“You,” a scientist snaps from behind their desk as you pass their open office door. You stop in your tracks and peer into the dingy office, noticing scuff marks and mysterious stains on the floor. The man’s desk has every square inch covered in files and papers. So much so that there is a noticeable curvature on the desktop, the cheap material unable to handle the amount of weight it has been subjected to over the years.

“Yes, sir?” you inquire.

He refuses to look up from his work, instead opting to dangle a set of keys from his fingers in your direction. “Go and grab the files for project 0B276HG21 in storage room C.”

Repeating the string of numbers and letters in your head, you take the keys from his outstretched hand and make your way to the storage room. There are so many rooms within the facility that you would be lost without the information your informant sent the team. But even with it, the facility has undergone changes since the last facility plans were uploaded, so you run into dead ends where there should be access doors.

You can only hope that your experience and knowledge will allow you to work your way up quickly – you don’t know how long you can stand to be a lackey. You roll your eyes at the errands you’ve had to run so far, but you know that the new person never gets given the big jobs on the first day.

And so the rest of the shift passes in the same manner and you arrive back at your and Bucky’s house with little energy and even less information.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” Bucky reassures. “Slow and steady wins the race, right?”

“That’s such a stupid fable,” you grumble. “The hare would have won if it didn’t have such an inflated ego.”

Bucky grins at your disgruntled face before you flop your head backwards to rest. You release a sigh and relax further into the couch where you collapsed after walking in the front door, relieved to smell dinner simmering away on the stove since you arrived home later than expected and hadn’t had the opportunity to grab lunch.

You tilt your head and watch as Bucky shuffles around the kitchen. He’s long since showered after his time at the repair shop: his hair nearly dry and the strands sticking out in a way that you know he tousled it with his towel and let it finish air drying. The new shorter strands allowed for the minimal work to pay off in dividends because it was damn near impossible to remember how soft his hair used to be and not be able to run your fingers through it now.

Your fingers itch to reach out, but you grip the cushion instead. No one said that this would be easy. Well, no one has said it’d be anything because Nat’s mission has her radio silent and Wanda is busy spending time with Vis for you to complain about your one-sided love with someone who doesn’t know the feeling. You know that if they knew what was happening right now, they’d be plying you with ideas on how to survive this mission with minimal heartbreak.

“The food is done,” Bucky says as he gathers plates and utensils to set the table. “Are you coming in here or do you want me to bring you a bowl?”

Unfortunately, your best friends aren’t available to provide their wisdom, so here you are: suffering in silence with no outlet.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you respond. You unclench your fist from the couch’s fabric and stretch out your stiff fingers. Rising from your seat, you make your way into the kitchen and take a seat at the table as Bucky brings the pot over from the stove. You stare intently into the soup as Bucky ladles it into a bowl and sets it in front of you.

“Did something happen today?” he questions with a worried expression.

“You know HYDRA,” you tiredly reply. Looking up into his eyes for the first time this evening, you see the crease between his brows and mentally slap yourself. “I’m fine, Bucky. They don’t have me working on anything specific yet.”

“I know,” he says, “but just be careful with those people, okay?”

You smile up at him and nod your head, your heart squeezing in your chest.

You’re both silent through dinner with the exception of your compliments on Bucky’s cooking. It’s hard to clear the air after bringing up HYDRA and their actions, even in the vaguest way.

***

The week stretches on for an eternity, but eventually Saturday rolls around and you and Bucky prepare to meet the neighborhood.

You arrive at the restaurant right on time. Light pours from the windows and the snow on the ground glistens gold. As soon as you open the car door, you hear laughter and chatter forcing their way through the walls.

“I hate entering a party where everybody is already best friends with each other and then you’re left standing there like a loner,” you decry, already dreading the feeling of ‘otherness’ you will be experiencing in a few short moments.

“You’re not a loner,” Bucky laughs. “You make friends as easily as breathing.”

“Not true,” you counter. “I can make ‘friends’ with strangers, but it’s never anything real. I’m a spy, remember? It’s literally life or death to get people to like me.”

“Trust me, doll,” Bucky says as he looks intently at you from across the car. “People can’t help but love you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you hope the light from the restaurant isn’t bright enough to reveal them to Bucky. The feelings squirming around in your stomach feel suspiciously like hope, and you can’t have that. You deflect any seriousness by laughing off Bucky’s comment.

“Tell that to all the people I’ve thrown in prison.”

Bucky calls your name with some disappointment and a slight frown on his face. You shrug your shoulders and motion towards the entrance. “It’s time to head inside. Come on.”

You walk away from him and lead the way into the building. Upon opening the door, a blast of warm, humid air hits you. The smell of beer and sweat sweeps up your nostrils, and the interior design reminds you more of a local dive bar than a restaurant. But everyone is laughing and having a good time, so you plaster a smile on your face and look around for the Gretens.

You see Christopher speaking to a short, skinny man, deep in conversation and barely acknowledging anyone else. Tessa stands in a corner surrounded by three other women, all of them laughing and having a good time. Bucky walks up behind you as you stand in the doorway and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Divide and conquer?” he asks. You nod your head and make your way over to the group of women.

When you’re within ten feet of her, Tessa notices you. She beams at you and raises her hand to usher you closer.

“Ladies!” Tessa introduces. “Meet our newest neighbor!”

A round of introductions follows and you can’t help but admire how blatantly obvious these women are about their curiosity. Tessa seems to have already told them everything she knows about you, but they have to ask their own questions.

“And where’s that brother of yours?” one of them asks. “Tessa’s told us how handsome he is! I’ve got a daughter I’ve been trying to get out of the house for ages.”

You laugh through the twist of your guts, replying merrily, “Oh, I’m sure he’d appreciate the introduction.”

Before the woman can demand a personal introduction, Tessa interrupts when the entrance opens once again and lets in a blast of cold air.

“Petre!” She performs the same waving hand motion that brought you over earlier to the new arrival. “Come here!”

Glancing back, you see a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes making his way over to you. He stops in front of Tessa and wraps her in a quick hug.

“This is my son, Petre. Petre, this is our neighbor.”

Petre greets you warmly. “Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since you moved in.”

You giggle when Tessa pats his arm roughly and shake his proffered hand. His skin is warm and dry, the skin on the back of his knuckles chapped from the winter weather. Tessa not-so-subtly draws the other women away from you and Petre and into another conversation, leaving you to speak with each other.

“Your mother seems to think we’d make a good pair,” you comment with a glance over at her.

“Ah, yes,” Petre says while fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “She’s been introducing me to every woman of marrying age. I think she’s afraid I’ll end up alone.”

You can’t help but laugh at his deprecating tone of voice. “We’re young – we’ve still got time.”

“Try telling her that,” he responds. “Being 30 and unmarried is one of the worst things you can be in her eyes.”

You chat with Petre between introductions for the next couple of hours. He sticks close by his mother which keeps him close to you, as Tessa demands everyone that walks by to greet you. Countless faces come and go, but there seems to be someone missing.

You turn to Tessa when the party seems to be winding down and a few people have started to leave. “Where’s your daughter?” you question.

“Kerri and Chrissie are right over there,” she nods, indicating the two young women in a cluster a few feet from you.

“Yes, I remember them from a little while ago. Where’s your other daughter? Sasha?”

At this, Tessa’s face drops and Petre looks at her worriedly. He places his arm around his mother’s shoulders and brings her into his side. “She’s not well,” Petre answers for his mother. “She has been sick for a while now.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s – it’s alright,” Tessa responds with a sorrowful smile. “She’s at home. Resting.”

“Well I hope she gets better soon,” you reply hopefully. Petre and Tessa nod tersely before steering the conversation off to something else.

It isn’t long after that when you feel Bucky sidle up next to you. He places his hand on your upper arm and pulls you closer into his side. “You ready to go?” he questions.

You hum and say your goodbyes to the people standing around you, promising to come out with Tessa to more gatherings. You and Bucky make your way back out into the cold night, the moon full and bright in the sky.

The car doors close behind you and Bucky starts the engine. You rumble along the road for a few minutes before Bucky says anything.

“Who were you talking to all night?” he asks you.

“Ah.” You sigh. “That was Tessa’s eldest son. The one she mentioned at dinner.”

“And?” he prompts.

“And…?”

“You were with him all night – what was he like? Anything seem off with him?”

You’re not exactly sure what Bucky is getting at, as he’d been talking with a couple of the same people throughout the night as well. “Well no, but it’s not like I could dig any deeper than surface level with so many people coming in and out of the conversation.”

Bucky hums noncommittally. You furrow your brow, but brush it off. “Did you find anything out from Christopher?”

“Not really. I did notice that one of his daughters wasn’t there tonight. Sarah?”

“Sasha,” you correct. “And no, I asked about her, as well. Petre and Tessa seemed really bothered when I brought her up: apparently she’s been pretty sick lately.”

“How sick?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not sure. It didn’t seem like they wanted to talk about it, though.”

“You think she’s been sick enough to require hospital stays?” he proposes, leading the conversation towards what could have possibly happened to the family’s financials that has lead to their worn down clothing and home.

“It’s worth looking into, isn’t it?”

Part 9

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

Text

More Than It Seams (Epilogue)

SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: a year after the events of the hero ball, you have an anniversary party for your company with a few familiar faces. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 1.4k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food/eating, just grown-up class 1a having a party with you and shoto, pet names (love, babe, baby)

note: surprise! one more little drabble to end out this series because i just can't get enough of them. thank you thank you thank you for all the support you've given this series, it's been so fun writing it and i'm excited to create more in the future.

likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated <3

“I am not skilled at blowing up balloons.” Another fart-like sound of a flying balloon zips past your head and you duck. Part of you was wondering if he was doing this on purpose.

“It’s okay, babe, really. I’ll get to them in a second. Just leave them there, please?”

“Can I start on the streamers, then?”

“You bought streamers?”

“Midoriya told me to.” A gust of freezing air and particles of ice blow past the back of your neck, indicating that your boyfriend had made yet another spike of ice instead of grabbing a ladder.

“Sure, love. Please remember to melt those before everyone gets here.” Your words are choppy and borderline indecipherable from the roll of tape you hold between your teeth. You’d been trying to hang the banner for ten minutes now, but the adhesive wasn’t cooperating with you. You puff an exhale through pursed lips, resting your hands on your hips and scowling at the multi-colored pennants of cardstock. “I will defeat this piece of shit, so help me All Might,” you mutter spitefully to yourself, but he hears it anyway.

“Do you want me to actually call All Might? I can do that.”

“I know you can, and please do not.” You can’t help chuckling at his earnestness, and smile as he sticks his tongue out in concentration taping a blue streamer to the top of a window. “You look cute like that.”

His head tilts in your direction, two-toned hair falling messily on his forehead while he still holds one end of the streamer. His voice is even, but his eyes twinkle with boyish mischief. “Don’t I look cute all the time?”

“You do, but even more so when you’re doing this.” You mimic his expression, sticking your tongue out to the side, and he huffs out a laugh. “Thank you for helping me with all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“I know I didn’t need to–”

“But you wanted to. I know, love.” A sharp eyebrow raises teasingly at your easy completion of his sentence. “You’ve been saying that for over a year now, you know.”

“Have I?”

“Mhmm, even though it seems like yesterday you were destroying my work for an excuse to look at me.”

“I think destroying is much too harsh of a word.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think. I’m right.” You can’t help grinning amusedly when he gives you a blank stare. You both know that you’re the best at twisting his words around back at him, much to his displeasure. You peer at him over the expanding latex of the stray balloon you’re inflating.

“Fine. You’re right, and I own this building,” he declares in triumph, choking out another laugh when your face falls in disbelief and you accidentally spit out the balloon.

“You can’t pull the building card every single time I’m winning an argument!”

“I definitely can.” He was right, even if you didn’t admit it.

Following you quitting your job, Shoto helped both you and your roommate move out and lease your own spaces. He accompanied you through numerous apartment showings and reassured you of your decision for the place you called yours now. Ever the respectful boyfriend, he didn’t ask you to move in with him right away; instead, he asked if he could move in with you in your new apartment, even though he financed half of it. You knew he had extensive real estate holdings across the globe, but discovered one morning when you were lying in bed together that he considered your apartment home. Home, you’d echoed, looking up at him and running your thumb over his scar. I like the sound of that.

He’d also helped you find a new space for you to kickstart your company and took it upon himself to buy not just the floor your office was on, but the entire building.

“You what?!”

“I bought the building.” He said it so casually, slurping a bundle of soba noodles as if buying a whole plot of land was as natural as breathing. It was another late night where you waited for him to get off patrol, sharing dinner in the living room of your home. His eyes flicked to your jaw, slack in disbelief, and he shrugs. “It’s really not that important, babe.”

“‘Not that important,’ my ass. You bought me a building?”

“No, I bought us a building. I could buy the whole block, too, if you’d like.” You cough, noodles sliding down the wrong pipe of your throat. He was playing, now, but you knew he’d buy you the entire city if you asked for it. After merging the costume division of his agency with your company, he released a public statement announcing the partnership between the Todoroki Agency and your business. Shortly after hiring new staff, including your other designer from M’s collapsing company, other agencies began requesting partnerships after Izuku and Bakugo’s agencies pledged to work with you too. Momo and Jiro hopped ship to your business as well after investigations revealed M embezzling funds and committing tax evasion.

“Does that look okay, babe?” You stand back to inspect your work hanging above the gigantic posters of your hero partners in your sitting area. Each pennant of the banner is coordinated to match one of your clients, spelling out “CELEBRATING ONE YEAR OF COLLABORATION” in vibrant colors.

“It looks great, love. And right on schedule, too. They should be arriving any minute–”

As if on cue, the entrance blows open with a swift kick and you bite down a smirk at the stomping of heavy boots. “Alright, nerds. I brought your fucking food. You better have plates because I didn’t bring that shit.” Bakugo’s rough voice echoes through the office and the smell of whatever is in the aluminum container he carries wafts into your nose. “What’s so funny, Salonpas?”

The corner of your boyfriend’s mouth quirks and you snort at his new nickname. “Did you forget utensils? I wasn’t aware you were capable of forgetting things.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with two fingers. You loved Shoto, but he could be a royal asshole sometimes.

“I’m gonna make you forget things if you don’t shut the fuck up–” Bakugo’s face contorts into a growl, but morphs into indignancy as a corded bicep wraps around his shoulders, effectively restraining him. “He forgot. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.” Kirishima’s toothy grin appears from behind Bakugo’s hair, followed closely by Kaminari and Mina. “We did snag some cool looking drinks on the way, though!” Kaminari holds up a six-pack of questionably colored fizzy soda, and you hand it to Shoto to put on ice. Mina pulls you into a tight hug, spinning you around to look at your outfit and running her fingers appreciatively over the decadent fabric.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a black tendril attached to a neighboring building and then immediately detach. Something thuds against your east-facing window, despite being on the thirteenth floor, and you casually yell that it’s open without looking at who it is. It glides open, and Deku scrambles down from the ledge. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Am I late?” He pulls off his mask and starts furiously pulling items from his belt, including a lighter, candles, confetti poppers, and party hats.

“Oi, Deku! Close the damn window, dumbass! You’re letting all the AC out!”

A gloved hand raises to slide it shut, but stops as another voice calls from outside.

“Yo, leave that open!” Sero shouts as he swings into your office, excitedly holding up an identical six-pack of neon drinks to mirror Kaminari. “Damn, everyone’s here already. Am I that late?”

“No, I think we take that title from you, Sero.” Momo and Jiro enter hand-in-hand, waving apologetically. “We got a little caught up in what to wear to a designer’s party, sorry.”

“Oh, shit, were we supposed to dress up?” He glances down at his usual hero costume, grimacing. “Oops.”

“No, no, you’re all good. This isn’t a fancy party by any means.” You gravitate to Shoto’s side, and his arm slides around your waist like clockwork. “If this was a fancy party by any means, that toxic waste would be nowhere near our building.” You point at the 11 bottles of unnaturally colored alcohol in the cooler on the counter, and raise an eyebrow at Kaminari as he cracks one open.

He takes a sip sheepishly, eyes widening in shock. “Holy fuck, this is so good.” He raises the bottle triumphantly like a sword. “To one year of making sure we don’t look ugly when we’re kicking ass, and to many, many more!”

Your boyfriend gives your hip a squeeze, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your friends cheer in agreement.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x you #bnha #mha #shoto x you #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #my hero academia

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askfrancie · 8 months ago

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๑ About!! (Last updated: August 16th, 7:48PM, central time)

☆→ This is an ask blog for the character Francis Mosses from the video game That’s Not My Neighbor.

☆→ There is no planned plot or story for this, I’m just doing this for fun and as a warm up.

☆→ This is an art ask blog. All art is mine unless it’s stated otherwise. Effort put into each piece may fluctuate violently. The amount of effort put into answering an ask is not an indicator for how thankful I am for you sending in asks. Every ask is very much appreciated no matter how much the effort put into the art in the answers fluctuates.

☆→ Francie uses he/him. You can call him Francis, but I just prefer calling him Francie

☆→ Mod Moss uses any pronouns and does not use labels.

☆→ This blog will answer 5 asks a day at minimum. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t send in asks, just please be patient. (Note: Out Of Character answers aren’t counted towards this)

☆→ Asks are not answered chronologically.

๑ Available for Asks!!

☆→ As of right now Hoon, Scarlet, Moss, The Narrator, and Francine are available for asks.

๑ Rules!!

☆→ 1. Nsfw asks are okay AS LONG AS YOU KEEP IT TASTEFUL AND RESPECTFUL.

(nsfw posts will be tagged as #☆→ NSFW. Suggestive posts will be tagged as #☆→ Suggestive.)

☆→ 2. If you send asks pertaining to certain kinks or fetishes they will not be answered (I.E. anything to do with bodily wastes that arent sweat, feet, feeding, belly, inflation, incest, or including anything to do with children in any capacity.) (selfcest is fine, along with cannibalism, pet play, hypnotism, bondage.)

(Though I will say I don’t plan on this being exclusively nsfw.)

☆→ 3. No bigotry whatsoever I literally don’t care keep that shit away from me. I’m usually okay with some slurs but not for this ask blog.

☆→ 4. Be. Nice. Remember there is a real living breathing person behind this account. You can be mean to Francie that’s fine but not to Mod Moss. If you aren’t happy with a response you get it’s not my fault. ☆→ 5. No asks about politics. The owner of this account is very much radical left if that’s what you call it if you’re curious.

☆→ 6. If you want something tagged then ask.

☆→ 7. Magic anons are a-okay! Though we might be a bit picky.

☆→ 8. If there’s an outfit you’d like to see Francis in, I will gladly accept those requests, just remember, keep it tasteful and make sure it follows all of the other rules.

☆→ 9. Ship asks are okay as long as you’re not getting upset over Francie being shipped with a different character than you want him to be shipped with in a post.

☆→ 10. Gore is ALSO okay, but as long as it doesn’t carry into other peoples asks who want nothing to do with that.

☆→ 11. PLEASE SPECIFY WHO YOURE SENDING THE ASK TO if it is not already extremely obvious who it is going to.

(Including eye gore.) (gore will be tagged with “☆→ Gore” and censored with post cuts)

๑ DNI!

☆→ Pro isreal, antisemites, neo nazis, transphobes, transmeds, truscum, anti-mogai, terfs/swerfs, anti-endogenics, sysmeds, MAPS, homophobes, aphobes, anti contradicting labels. Anti-kink, purists.

And please consider supporting me on ko-fi! Anything means the world to me <:)

I think that’s it LMAOAOAOAO

○・,~٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ ooooooooo sparkles.

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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months ago

Text

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 5297

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

A.N. I will no longer be going to the trouble of posting extensive warnings, cautions, "Minors DNI", "smut below the break", or extra trigger warning outside of the story tags etc., like I used to. Because the staff troll has targeted my account and held it to standards that virtually no other explicit fanfiction authors are consistently held to or follow on this platform, I will now only be tagging major themes above the story summary, and other than that, the only warnings you'll see from me are the "mandatory" (🙄what a joke) community labels: mature. Sorry, but I'm not going to bend over backwards to please a bunch of antis and an illiberal, vindictive child who works at Tumblr with zero accountability for their abuse of their position. Troll: grow the hell up, and PLEASE for the love of God: never go into politics.

So here is my new sign I'm so excited to introduce!🥳Feel free to use it - no need to give credit. As Mr. Mackie likes to say to the nitwits: "Baby I'm a grownup."

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 6: Inflation Therapy

Previously:

"It’s going to be okay, Buck. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice dull. “I know.”

It’s not the tantrum Steve was expecting, but somehow it feels just as bad. Because rather than reacting, Bucky’s just withdrawing. Steve watches him pick at his meal for another half an hour. With some gentle encouragement he’s able to get the kid to eat the majority of his protein, but he’s obviously getting no enjoyment from the food, his mind a mile away as he chews mechanically. It’s depressing. Steve goes into bossy alpha mode to try and give him some direction, make him feel a little more secure. He tries to show Bucky that he does have an alpha who cares about him, however temporary it may be.

“Throw your trash away, bub. Put your tray over there. Good job. C’mon now, let’s go do an activity. I’m leading art tonight. You want to give that a go?”

Bucky seems docile enough, following Steve into the art room and sitting on the carpeted floor with one of the lap desks for drawing circle. A few other patients trickle in, until they’re a group of ten. Steve hands out paper and cups of colored pencils, and takes up a spot on the carpet. He tries not to be obviously over-focused on Bucky, figuring that the kid needs his space to process the news about his parents relinquishing custody. “Okay everybody," Steve greets the group. "How are we doing?”

He gets friendly answers from the other patients, then guides them through a few warm up exercises. They do some rapid-fire sketch associations, where Steve throws out words like “recreation” and “comfortable,” and “dread,” and everybody has to sketch the first thing they think of in ninety seconds.

Then Steve tells the group they’re going to be doing a “Now and Then” project. He asks them to draw a picture of how they see themselves and their lives in the present, and gives them twenty minutes to work without scrutiny. “Try to pick one word or phrase to focus on. You can draw anything you like, to express it,” he tells them. “Something literal, or something abstract. Anything that you feel depicts your current emotions, state of being, how things are going for you in the world or simply in your head. Anything goes. Get as far with it as you can, but don’t feel like you have to rush with coloring it in or anything, if you’re trying to make a masterpiece.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly at his own drawing board. “You can always add details later if you’re as nitpicky about your art as me.”

“We can draw anything?” one boy in the circle asks. He’s not Steve’s patient but Steve knows his name, knows he’s there for treatment following a miscarriage. Steve nods and gives him a gentle look. “Yeah, Daniel. That’s right. Anything goes.” Across the circle, Bucky glances up and meets his eyes. Steve smiles sadly. “If anybody needs to draw violence or something that depicts self harm, this is a safe space to do that. You won’t get put on protocol for it, as long as you’re willing to join in the discussion portion and explain your drawing.”

Bucky and one other boy look like they’re relieved to hear that, and Steve gives them both encouraging looks before turning his attention to the sheet of paper he’s got on his own lap desk. He’s always been good with a pencil—had even considered going down the art-therapy track, back when he was in college. The only reason he hadn't wound up pursuing it was because he didn’t want to turn his passion into something he had to do for a job. But he still loves leading art sessions for the omegas on-ward. Figuring that powerless is a pretty good focus word for his 'Now' drawing, Steve picks up a mustard yellow pencil and begins to sketch.

“Okay pencils down.”

Twenty minutes later, everybody takes turns showing what they’ve drawn. Unsurprisingly, five of the boys have drawn something literal from their current stay on-ward. Two others have pictures of their families. One boy has chosen a forest scene to depict his feelings of uncertainty about an upcoming heat, and Daniel talks about his violet-hued sketch regarding his feelings over the recent miscarriage. Bucky is the last to volunteer to talk about his piece, and in fact Steve has to prompt him twice before he’ll turn his lap desk around to face the circle.

He’s drawn a person—presumably himself—in thick, brown lines. The person is sitting and hugging their knees to their chest, contained in a tiny space like a box. It’s a scratchy drawing but rather well-done, and the instant feeling Steve gets from it is isolation. Outside the box, it’s bright and colorful with a lot going on, but inside the box it’s muted and still, with heavy olive and brown lines. “What does this represent for you, Bucky?” Steve asks, forcing himself to do his job rather than crawl across the carpet and wrap Bucky in his arms the way he really wants to. “Hm? To me it feels rather lonely, looks isolated.”

Bucky shrugs, not looking up. “I guess.”

Steve asks if anybody has positive comments for Bucky’s piece. Daniel ventures, “... The lines get messier on the dark side. On the bright side, they’re all neat and specific, but then they get kind of scratchy on the other part.”

Steve hums, glad to at least have a couple people willing to participate in art tonight. Usually patients just sit around grunting and rolling their eyes at it. “Good point. I see what you mean. What do you think that technique could communicate?”

Daniel hesitantly meets Bucky’s eyes from across the circle before saying, “Um. Like … it’s more chaotic, on the scratchy side.”

“Yeah. Kind of gives it a distressed feeling, doesn’t it?” Steve looks at Bucky and gently prods, “Buck? Why do you think you chose those colors?” He gets nothing from Bucky besides a mumbled, “Dunno,” and forces himself not to push him on it. He talks to the group as a whole about colors and what they can represent. “Most people know that darker colors can indicate a sense of foreboding or depression,” he says. “But lighter colors aren’t always ‘happy’ per se. Take mine, for example.” Steve shows the group his drawing of a bear sitting on the side of a road with cars. “You’d think this should be in greens and blues, yeah? A nature scene. But I only used taupes and yellows and a little brown and olive. I think it looks kind of sallow, gives it a feeling of melancholy.”

“Why’d you draw a bear?” Daniel asks.

“Well, I’ve been feeling sad this evening. Kind of helpless, you know?” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bucky’s head lift up a little. “And I remember seeing this clip once on Facebook or something. A bear that’d been separated from its cubs across a busy highway. And it just seemed so sad.” He shrugs, feeling silly but knowing that he needs to be open and honest if he’s going to expect the same from his patients. “So that’s what I drew. That feeling of powerlessness that the video made me feel.”

“Why do you feel powerless?” Daniel asks.

This time, Steve does let his eyes slip over to Bucky—who is looking at him, but who quickly flicks his eyes away. “Because I’m worried about somebody I care about,” Steve says. “And I’m not sure I can help them the way they need. I’m not sure how much they’ll let me help.”

Bucky’s lips part, and for a second Steve really thinks he’s going to reply to that, but then he clams up again and looks down at his drawing board, not saying a thing. Steve swallows down his disappointment. “Okay guys, now we’re going to do a second piece, and I want everybody to try and make this one as literal as you can. Let’s all draw a depiction of what we’d like our lives to be in the future. You can draw something you’d like to have happen tomorrow, or something you dream of happening in a year, or ten years, even how you picture the perfect life when you’re old and grey. Really dig deep and think about what you want your life to be like, in a perfect world. It doesn’t necessarily have to be realistic, just so long as it represents what would make you happy. Kay?”

He watches as everybody gets new paper and starts drawing. Bucky, he notes, stares at his paper for a long few minutes before he ever picks up a pencil. He looks lost.

Steve gives them thirty minutes for their second drawings. When time’s up and everybody discusses what they came up with, Bucky has drawn a beach scene. It has a little blue bungalow in the background and a family on the sand. There’s an umbrella and a person lying on a beach towel whom Steve can tell is supposed to be Bucky. He’s surprised though, because that person is also visibly pregnant, and there’s a little kid right next to him, wearing water wings and building a sandcastle. There’s a dog next to the kid, and another person in the picture sitting in a beach chair who looks suspiciously like Steve, but no way in hell is Steve going to point that out. The Steve-person is blond, and Steve knows for a fact that Bucky’s family all have dark hair.

“Buck,” he prompts. “You drew yourself at the beach?” Bucky just shrugs, and Steve tries to draw more out of him. “... Is that one of your favorite places?” he asks.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’ve never been to the beach. But growing up, everybody else’s families would always go somewhere in the summer. Up to the Hamptons or down to Jersey, you know? Stay at a beach house, eat crabs, go to the boardwalk and get saltwater taffy and shit, ride the rides. It always seemed nice. Like something real families did.” His lips twist ruefully as he traces his finger from the lines of the pinwheel beach umbrella, over to the black and white dog that he drew. “... And I never had a dog. I like dogs.”

Jesus, God, Steve wants to kidnap this kid and take care of him forever. “Is the person on the beach towel you?” he asks gently. Bucky shrugs again, but then he nods. Steve nods too. “It looks like you’re pregnant in the picture. Is that what you were imagining when you drew it?” Bucky doesn’t say anything, and Steve feels absolutely pained, trying to force answers out of him like this. Across the circle, Daniel has made a little whimper and put his hands on his stomach, and Steve knows it’s time to abandon that point. “Okay,” he says quietly, moving past that little detail. “Um, what about the other people in your drawing?” he asks instead. “What part do they play?”

Bucky looks down self consciously at the paper. “They’re not real,” he mutters. “I don’t have anything right now. And I don’t even know if I want kids, but … I dunno. I drew it with a baby, and an alpha. Cause maybe that’d be nice, even though I don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

“Why couldn’t that happen?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him, reproachful. “Nobody wants me,” he says. “I just don’t see the point.”

Steve has to swallow past the horrible lump that’s formed in his throat. “Having a family of your own is a totally realistic goal, Bucky. Having children and a partner? Going to the beach with your family? Those are great things to imagine for the future.”

“I don’t have a family,” he says dully.

Steve is about to address that, but before he can, Daniel bursts out into tears and starts ripping up his paper, upset about babies and the pregnancy he miscarried a few weeks ago. Steve has to put all his effort into calming him down and escorting him down the hall to the soft room so that he can calm down. And by the time he returns to the art room, Bucky has left.

Steve sticks around for an hour afterwards, making sure nothing spirals out of control. He was prepared to spend the night on-ward if he had to, but Bucky’s behavior remains rather tame. He wets himself rather abruptly after art therapy, and Steve helps him get changed with no issues. Bucky tells Steve that he’d like to be alone, and Steve can’t force him to talk if he’s not ready. So he just watches helplessly as Bucky retreats to the soft room and curls up in the same corner where Steve found him that morning, face buried in a pheromone-treated plushie.

Steve has a talk with the overnight orderly on duty, making sure that the beta man knows to keep an eye on Daniel and on Bucky. Then he clocks out and heads home, feeling like the most useless support alpha to ever exist.

The next day, he arrives on ward to find Bucky in an unresponsive state, and the soft room having been cleared out to accommodate him.

“Moved everybody else over to the Phys-ed room,” the on-duty orderly mutters with a grimace, as they both stand in the doorway watching Bucky’s behavior. “He doesn’t answer when we talk to him. And he’s tried to bite when we go to grab 'im.”

“How long has he been like this?” Steve asks, concerned.

The beta man shakes his head. “He seemed normal when he woke up. He didn’t talk, but he wasn’t like this. We let them wander around for their AM free time, and then when I came to move everybody to breakfast, he was rocking. He won’t even look at me. Acts like he doesn’t even hear.”

In the padded far corner of the room, Bucky is sitting huddled over one of the foam rocker forms, naked, his knees planted to either side of the form and his thighs gripping it hard in stress. He’s shed everything from his body, including his diaper, and has his head resting on the front piece, his eyes staring sightlessly to the side. His thumb is in his mouth and he’s sucking it while he rocks compulsively. Steve nods grimly at the sight. “He can hear.”

The orderly looks dubiously from Bucky to Steve, and then back. “Um ... are you sure about that?”

Steve inhales deeply. “Yeah. This is a stress reaction to some traumatic news he got yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Steve goes over to kneel beside the rocker to try and get Bucky to respond to him. But when he has no success, he goes back to tell the orderly to watch the room for a minute while Steve consults his boss.

“I think he needs a course of hormones,” he tells Christina, standing in the doorway to her office because he’s too antsy to even sit down for a proper conversation. “Will you sign off on it?”

Christina nods. “Of course. What method of delivery?”

My dick, Steve thinks, though of course he’d never say that. He’s just frustrated is all. He just wants to make all of Bucky’s pain go away. “Inflation session,” he suggests, receiving a nod from Raynor. “We’ll do sense dep. after, hit him with some ASMR, some tactile stim.”

“Sounds about right.”

Steve turns to leave.

“Rogers?”

He looks back over his shoulder to see Raynor staring him dead in the eye, and gets an uneasy feeling. “What?”

“Once he’s out of this episode, I’m telling the doc to go ahead. We’re castrating him.”

Steve’s heart sinks. “Christina, please, no.”

“We should’ve done it a long time ago and you know it. The only reason we didn’t was the parents, and they’re not in the picture anymore. Steve—don’t look at me like that, Rogers. You agreed when the recommendation came down. It’s what’s best.”

Steve looks down at his feet to avoid glaring at the woman who is directly responsible for his employment. She’s not wrong, which is the worst part. Bucky’s so unbalanced, he should’ve had a therapeutic castration years ago, but his parents have always refused and Bucky’s been none the wiser. Quietly, Steve grits out, “He can’t even take the news of his folks giving him up, how do you imagine the conversation about his nuts being chopped off is going to go?” It’s snarky and unprofessional for him to talk that way to his boss, but he’s emotional.

Miraculously, Christina doesn’t call him out on it. “Not well, I imagine,” she drawls. “But what has ever gone well with this kid? After today, I want you to think about your long term care recommendations for him.”

Steve suppresses a growl. “Long term?” he repeats, and she nods solemnly. He feels dread fill his gut at the look that’s on her face. “We can keep him on ward,” he insists, hating how much it sounds like a plea. “Extended stay, and then maybe—”

“He’s not improving here. It’s been three years. He’s nineteen now. We need to think about his future. He’s in no shape for independent living, and you know it,” she says.

Steve huffs, knowing where this is going. “His family dumped him, Christina. He’s got no one. What do you expect me to do?”

“Long term care recommendation, on my desk by the end of the week.”

Steve grits his teeth, knowing there are only a couple of options there. Bucky can either be institutionalized, or sent to a group home, neither of which is promising. Steve knows Bucky, goddammit. He … he cares about him. And he knows that that’s not what Bucky needs. Bucky just needs someone to ...

To love him.

“What if I found him an alpha?” he asks, ignoring his better judgment. “Somebody who was a good fit, who could take him on?”

“By the end of the week?” Christina looks dubious, and rightfully so. She sighs at him, exasperated. “Rogers, you and I both know that nobody is gonna—”

“Just say that I did,” Steve snaps. “Would you approve it?”

Maybe she can tell what he’s thinking, or maybe she just thinks Steve’s venting and throwing out hopeless ideas. Either way, Christina nods reluctantly, her lips pressed thinly together. “Sure,” she says, obviously not believing that Steve can find someone to take Bucky on in such a capacity by the week’s end. “If you found someone who was actually suitable, I’d sign off on it.”

Steve isn’t even sure why he’s posing impossible hypotheticals, but Raynor’s agreement makes him feel relieved anyway. “I’ll need the bathroom isolated for our session,” he tells her, in lieu of a response. “And then the soft room for the rest of the afternoon.”

Christina grunts and waves him out of the office. “You got it. Now go on, get outta here.”

Steve goes.

“Buck? Hey. Hey Honey.” Steve approaches Bucky like he would a wild animal, wary of the possibility of him lashing out. Not that Steve has to worry about being physically overpowered or anything like that, but even he can take a surprise fist to the face, and he’d rather not have a bloodied nose or a black eye today.

Bucky doesn’t get violent. He seems to register Steve’s presence, as his scent shifts to something slightly more eager and his hips start rocking harder on the foam padding of the form. But his eyes don’t track Steve’s movement when the alpha kneels down beside him, and he doesn’t talk. He just keeps making these little stubborn grunts as he works on stimming himself up to another orgasm.

There’ve been several already, if the state of the rocker is anything to go by. Its red vinyl covering is shiny wet between Bucky’s thighs, making squeaky-slick noises as he moves. Steve reaches out and tentatively touches Bucky’s back. The boy’s nostrils flare and he grunts, rocking harder.

“Shh. Okay, Sweetheart. Okay. I’m gonna help you feel better, Alright bub? Just gotta let me move you around a little bit.”

‘Sexual catatonia’ is the technical term for what Bucky’s experiencing. His brain has gone into protection mode and his body is seeking out the most basic of comforting stimuli as it tries to reorient itself. He’s regressed, only able to process a certain level of input right now, and he’ll stay that way until his body receives enough signals that he’s safe and protected and wanted.

So Steve’s job is to make him feel all three of those things.

He gathers Bucky up from the rocker, shushing him and holding him in a basket restraint position until his few seconds of reactive thrashing stop. “Okay, okay. You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, keeping a low purr going in his chest for Bucky to hear and feel against his back. “Shh sh sh. Okay now. Here we go. Come on over here with Alpha.”

He all but carries him out to the hallway and into the bathroom. The nurse is already in there, setting things up. Bucky’s like a blind and deaf animal, staring aimlessly and making upset noises as he scents another person in the room with them. The orderly keeps a wide berth, but nods at Steve as they enter and points to the equipment he’s had set up for them. “Three bags there for him,” he says. “Just in case.” He heads for the door. “Push the button if you need anything else. I’ll be on station for the rest of the morning.”

Steve nods, depositing Bucky on the treatment bed. “Thanks.”

Bucky’s already naked, so that much is taken care of at least. He’s grunting a little more angrily now that he’s been taken away from his rocker and brought somewhere unfamiliar, so Steve moves around in a hurry to get them all set up. The colonics bed is shaped to cradle him in the correct position while he lies on his back. Steve guides his legs over the incline, then goes about setting up the machine.

‘Therapeutic pregnancy’ isn’t much more than a medicated retention enema, but it can help with bringing omegas out of severe emotional and psychiatric episodes. Obviously, it’s not an actual pregnancy. It’s just that the patient’s body is temporarily tricked into thinking it’s pregnant. And that’s what the nurse was referring to when he said he’d set aside “three bags” for Bucky. On the machine’s hook hang three heavy bags—all full of synthetic alpha semen.

Steve pulls a warmed blanket from the electric cabinet and drapes it over Bucky’s upper body. The omega’s eyes flutter closed as he immediately starts purring in pleasure. Steve smiles tenderly and comforts him, even though he knows that Bucky isn't to aware of his surroundings right now. “There ya go, bub. Just gimme a sec and we’ll have you feeling real good, okay?” He rolls the cart over and hooks up the bags. The machine will warm it to the natural temperature of semen as it moves through the tubes and into Bucky’s body, but first: the apparatus.

An average adult alpha knot is about the size of a regulation baseball, and the artificial knotting apparatuses that hospitals like Hydra Sanatorium use are thus sized. Uninflated, however, the diameter is small—no more than Steve's own thumb. It’s very easy to lube the thing up and slide it inside of Bucky. The omega is already aroused, lax, wet and swollen, and Steve feels his dick start to get interested when he glances down to watch the rubber nozzle slip past Bucky’s pink and pulsing rim.

If you were mine … he thinks covetously, Bucky’s plaintive whimpers echoing alongside the treacherously unprofessional thoughts in his head. If Bucky were his, they wouldn’t be in this horrible, institutionally puke-green tiled bathroom right now. They’d be in Steve’s home, in bed or in some little space in the apartment that Bucky had chosen to nest. Steve would be fucking his mate naturally instead of using all this artificial crap.

If Bucky were his, he wouldn’t even be regressed like this in the first place, because he would know down to the marrow of his bones that he was loved and wanted. Steve would make sure of it. He’d keep him healthy and happy and satisfied. Maybe Bucky would even be pregnant for real, bred up all fat and happy with Steve’s pups. Steve can’t stop thinking about the drawing that Bucky did in art therapy, how he’d drawn himself pregnant in the picture. He’d expressed uncertainty about pregnancy, but maybe if it were Steve’s pup inside him, Bucky wouldn’t mind it then. Maybe everything would balance out in his system, if Steve put a litter in him. Maybe it would make Bucky happy if he—

On the bed, Bucky whines, and Steve shakes his head and huffs at himself. If, if, if. Too bad he doesn’t get paid for Ifs. “Get it together, Rogers,” he mutters, and reaches down to grind the heel of his hand punishingly against his trapped dick—It helps, somewhat. He grasps the hand pump for the knotting mechanism and squeezes it, observing Bucky carefully as he slowly but surely inflates the rubber bulb to its full size inside the omega’s body.

Bucky’s unseeing eyes blink up at the ceiling, glossy with unshed tears. “Ahn, ahn, ah,” he grunts softly. “Ugn, ugn, ah …”

Steve uses his free hand to rub over his lower belly. “You’re okay. It’s okay, Buck. S’that feel nice? I bet it does, huh? Don’t worry, Sweetheart. You just relax now for Alpha, mkay? Alpha’s gonna make it feel good.” He’s sure it’s not the actual words, so much as it is the sound of his voice that Bucky recognizes, but even still, it’s nice to see the way that Bucky responds to him. “That’s right,” he soothes. “Good boy. You’re such a good boy for Alpha, Buck. Alpha loves you.”

He starts the flow, remaining at Bucky’s side and massaging his tummy gently while the machine begins to pump.

The therapy mimics a pregnancy in that it fills the patient’s body with a physical weight. It inflates the colon and the uterus and mimics the influx of hormones that a growing fetus would create. These physical cues help to trick the brain into thinking an actual pregnancy is taking place, and it’s that input—in addition to the naturally calming feeling of the knot itself—which forcibly tells the omega brain that it is safe and bred, wanted and protected. Only a strong and dominant alpha can keep an omega successfully bred up, after all—that’s what the basest parts of a regressed omega’s mind hang onto. And Bucky is currently fully regressed.

His thumb is back up in his mouth already, sucking away. Steve rumbles in his chest in answer to every grunt and moan that Bucky makes, rubbing his tummy for him as he slowly but surely fills out from the liquid. Steve’s sitting on a stool beside the bed, down by Bucky’s bottom where the warm blanket doesn’t cover, so he can clearly see the twitch of the boy’s taught little sac, the way his shrunken prick is getting chubby underneath the swell of his belly. He frees one hand up from the belly massage and rubs him there, smiling tenderly at the pleased chirp he gets for his efforts. “Yeah,” he whispers, working the head between his fingers like he would a female patient’s clit, nice and delicate, gliding gently from the precum his little dick keeps blurting out. “S’that feel nice, baby?”

Bucky grunts in an adorably demanding way and shoves his butt down against the knotting mechanism to stimulate himself harder with it. Steve chuckles and uses his other hand to tug on the nozzle, rocking the inflated rubber knot nice and steady against the swollen glands inside. Bucky makes a very happy noise at that, and when Steve looks up at his face, he sees the omega staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes, hand fallen away from his mouth as he pants open-mouthed and drools. A wave of renewed want hits Steve so hard, he almost feels like he’s taken a punch to the gut. “Oh, bub,” he whispers, feeling his eyes start to heat with the threat of tears. He wants to take care of Bucky so bad that it hurts. Just absolutely fucking aches. He thumbs under his cockhead a little faster, and is able to pull the next orgasm out of him within seconds.

Bucky sobs, voice caught high and pleasure-pained in his throat, still non-verbal and lost in his own head. Steve swallows heavily and glances over at the enema bags. “Almost there,” he says, forcing himself to go back to rubbing Bucky’s belly as the boy takes the last quart of semen inside his body. “Doing so well, Buck,” Steve praises, running both of his big hands over the swell of his belly.

Fuck, he really does look pregnant. With his muscles all lax from the regression, and a couple liters of cum inside him, he’s filled out enough that he looks like he could be about four months pregnant. Steve eases him through the rest of the remaining bag, praising him with a bunch of rambling words when the machine cuts off from its pumping cycle. He removes the tubing from the knot and rolls the machine back out of the way, goes to grab another couple of warm blankets from the cabinet and drapes them over Bucky’s midsection and legs so that he’s totally covered and encased in warmth.

The boy sighs and grunts happily at the sensations, and Steve smiles down at him. “I know, Love, I know. That feels really good, huh? That’s what we want. Need to show your body that everything’s okay. Make you feel like a mommy for just a little while.” Bucky’s not really hearing him or seeing him, but Steve refuses to believe that the sound of his voice doesn’t have any effect. Bucky knows his voice, he does. Steve knows he does.

Bucky’s eyes are barely open. The tears that’ve been glazing over for so long have gathered at the corners and trickled down his temples as he lies there and feels his body telling him it’s pregnant. The knot is keeping him plugged up and the liquid will have made it past his cervix by now, filling him up with a warm, heavy pressure. Steve remains close and rubs his bloated belly from overtop the blankets, maintaining a steady stream of praise in his ear.

When it’s been a good half hour or so, Bucky begins to show signs of emerging from the fugue. His eyes seem to track Steve’s movements more, and he starts to become more aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t have his words back yet, because he looks to Steve and whimpers and whines little helpless sounds, rather than asking questions about what’s going on or what’s happened. Steve hurries to hold his hand and reassure him. “Shh sh sh. Hey, you back with me, Sweetheart? Hi.” He smiles gently and pets his face. “You’re doing great. Took your treatment so well, Baby.”

Bucky wiggles in place, and Steve can see the moment he recognizes the heaviness in his belly. His hands go there, touching the swell of himself, and Steve nods and places a hand on top. “Yeah, that’s right. We’ve got your tummy all filled up. It’s okay. Just a little inflation therapy. S’it feel nice?”

Bucky looks shocked, and incredibly vulnerable, but not upset. His eyes still leak sluggish tears as he nods at Steve. “...‘pha?” he warbles, the tail end of what is probably the only word he’s capable of articulating right now.

Steve’s face pinches and he smiles and nods. “That’s right, bub. Alpha’s right here takin’ care of you. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Bucky whimpers, dazed, and his eyes slip closed again. But down below, on the distended curve of his belly, he hooks his pinky finger over Steve’s.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

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fxirybun · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, can you do my DR S/O’s green and red flags?

Initials/Nickname: G.V./ Bie

Big 3: Sun sign is Leo (If you believe in cusps then I’m a Cancer/Leo cusper for specifics), Gemini Moon, and Scorpio Rising.

My most used emoji(s) is/are: ❤️ and 🤣

DR S/O’s Name: Jeon Jungkook

The reality my S/O is in: My WR

I hope this helps you and isn’t too complicated or weird, thank you!

hello bie ! and no it's not too complicated or weird at all lmao xp thank you for sending me your ask <3

ෆ⸒⸒ his ten (10) green flags

𐙚 his natural talent feels boundless , allowing him to constantly experiment with new styles. his working habit gives off authenticity , showing how deeply connected he is to his craft.

𐙚 even when unexpected challenges arise , jungkook remains to keep afloat. he is very versatile and adjusts quickly to new environments , demonstrating that he can thrive under pressure.

𐙚 you may often see him caring for the people around him through means of offering advice , listening attentively , or simply being there for someone.

𐙚 jungkook tends to be practical in his approaches. he knows when to set big goals and has a clear plan for himself. in addition , he also takes practical steps to achieve them.

𐙚 one of his most prominent traits is his consistency. jungkook has shown time and again that people can count on him. his reliable nature ensures that he’s someone others trust to follow through and maintain his composure in difficult times.

𐙚 even though he has faced pressures on his side , Jungkook has proven his resilience. he can overcome obstacles and hardships without losing sight of who he is. when things don’t go as planned , he learns from the experience and bounces back stronger than before.

𐙚 he is the kind of guy who remains humble at all times. he doesn’t allow his achievements to inflate his ego , and he continues to show gratitude for the people who have put their faith in him.

𐙚 jungkook's dedication to his work is evident in everything he does. he has this natural drive to improve himself , often going above and beyond to perfect his abilities.

𐙚 this man has a compassionate heart , often putting others’ needs before his own. his kindness feels genuine and how he shows empathy toward those around him is evident in his actions.

𐙚 jungkook knows how to chase his dreams without letting his ambitions overshadow his personal life or relationships. he has a healthy balance between striving for success and appreciating the things he currently has at the moment.

ෆ⸒⸒ his ten (10) red flags

𐙚 jungkook may have struggled with or is prone to certain self-limiting patterns or behaviors. even though he works hard to free himself from these , it could be a red flag if he occasionally slips back into negative thought cycles or unhealthy habits.

𐙚 he might sometimes find himself lost or overwhelmed due to receiving too many choices. he might be overly idealistic , chasing dreams that aren’t grounded in reality , leading him to feel frustrated.

𐙚 jungkook may place too much emphasis on close relationships , a need for constant validation from others. he could struggle with boundaries , putting his emotional well-being in the hands of those he cares about.

𐙚 he sometimes is hesitant to fully embrace something out of fear of failure or judgment. this cautious approach could hold him back from exploring new avenues or fully living in the moment.

𐙚 his dedication to his career can be so intense that it tips into imbalance. jungkook finds it difficult to switch off or relax , focusing too much on his work or public image at the expense of his personal time.

𐙚 jungkook could sometimes overanalyze situations that are right in front of him. this action can lead to anxiety , causing him to second-guess himself or hesitate to take action when quick decisions are needed.

𐙚 his desire to do well and to please others could make him vulnerable to emotional ups and downs , especially when facing criticism or negativity from the outside world. l

𐙚 he may as well have trouble expressing his own negative emotions too. jungkook prefers to keep these feelings to himself rather than confront difficult situations , which could lead to bottled-up emotions.

𐙚 his high standards for himself and others could sometimes turn into a worst-case scenario. it may cause him to be overly critical of himself or those around him.

𐙚 despite being emotionally in touch with others , jungkook might find it difficult to fully open up about his own deeper feelings , fears , or even his insecurities.

fxiry : i hope this helps ! feedback is required ^^

#𐙚 ask games

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phantasmagoreica · 2 months ago

Text

intro post

note: if you followed my other blog (the previous phantasmagoreica), i moved

hi this is my weird freak blog. minors do not interact or i will steal your elbows

i tag with my characters a lot, but i also reblog other things too. if you dont want me to tag your stuff with my characters, just let me know

character masterlist

please note that some of the stuff on here may contain vore/cannibalism, violent/body horror stuff, dubcon and maybe sometimes noncon, but i try to tag accordingly. if i forget to tag something, please let me know!

also while i do occasionally reblog stuff from DoL disclaimer that i of course do not condone everything that is featured in DoL nor am i an uncritical fan of it

may later start writing my own stuff

also i hope this goes without saying, but radfems, radqueers, pro-paraphiles, and lolicons/shotacons/babyfurs fuck off you are not welcome here 🖕

kinks and limits under cut:

kinks:

-im a switch top :3c -monsterfucking/exophilia/terato and body horror -monster-themed vore and cannibalism, such as vampirism and predator/prey (not same-size soft vore, though, sorry) -monster TF -bondage -femdom -fearplay -bloodplay -breeding (but not pregnancy sorry) -moderate guro/violence -horrorotica -dubcon and moderate cnc -consensual somnophilia -master/sub -free use

sometimes/maybe/ask/depends on context: -heavy noncon -snuff (not counting fatal vore, which i'm usually okay with) (that being said, i'm only okay with snuff if the person dies during sex, not before; i'm not comfortable with necrophilia) -extreme guro/violence -watersports -petplay (some genres i like, others not as much) -forcefem and forcemasc (im usually fine with it if it's fictional characters, but please don't try to involve me myself in any of that unless i give permission first. any type of forced-gendering can make me dysphoric 👍)

limits: -any underage characters, lolicon/shotacon -ageplay -incest -beastiality/zoophilia -necrophilia (i don't count snuff such as dying during sex as necrophilia, nor do i count porn of undead monsters/characters as it, but i won't interact with anything containing nsfw of non-sentient decomposing corpses) -rpf, anything featuring real people who did not consent to be featured in it -anything that dehumanizes groups of people, like raceplay, disability fetishes, or demeaning/objectified caricatures of intersex and trans people. (disclaimer that i'm obviously 200% okay with nsfw stuff featuring groups of people that is done respectfully) -misc. turn-offs like hyper/body expansion/inflation, same-size soft vore, scat and emeto and gas, pregnancy, plushies and pooltoys, earfucking, etc. (no shade at all to any people into these; these are just a personal preferences) -also, i don't really do that much furry stuff, sorry. once again, not judging anyone at all, it's just not something that often interests me.

#monsterfucking #monster fucker #intro post

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mrthenarrator · 11 months ago

Note

didnt think you'd see an ask from me again, didja? >:3333333

how ya doin narry? with all these new asks coming your way? and also do you want a drink im downstairs rn

You know, as much as it pains me to inflate your ego any more, I do miss annoying you from my blog, Oswin. Perhaps I'll send you that one sky post I've been hearing so much about as a payback for the unresolved cat ear incident. Slash half joking.

But i've been doing well in all honesty! I just reached 50 followers a few minutes ago and I think I'm well on my way to surpassing you in follower count. 😌

I've been enjoying all the new questions and conversations ive been having with people. It's nice to talk to new people after a year of getting used to living in the real world primarily.

As for the drink, can you make me a hot chocolate please and thank you? 🥰

#asks #tsp rp #tsp narrator #rp #(ooc: truth be told i missed talking to narry even if im the one who writes *for* him)#(hes my bestie ok? im glad hes getting out more i just wanted to annoy him again aksjdakjsdh)

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acacia-may · 2 years ago

Text

Wish Me Luck, Dad

Description: A holiday cookie decorating contest organised by the Black Bulls brings up some bittersweet memories for Zora. Luckily, his friends are there to remind him that even after loss, he doesn't have to spend the holidays alone anymore.

Rating: G

Warnings: The tiniest bit of hurt/comfort (because of Zara), but mostly just Black Bulls family and holiday fluff

Fandom: Black Clover

Genre: Black Bulls Squad as Family and some soft, friendship holiday fluff for Zora. Cookie decorating contests and "The Christmas Dragon"

Relationships: Zora Ideale & His Black Bulls Squad Family, Zora Ideale & Magna Swing Friendship, Magna Swing & Luck Voltia Friendship, and Zora Ideale & Zara Ideale Father and Son Family Bonding.

Characters: Zora Ideale, Magna Swing, Luck Voltia, Charmy Pappitson, Zara Ideale, & The Black Bulls.

Word Count: 1312

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

I want to offer a special word of thanks to the house on my aunt's street that puts up an inflatable "Christmas Dragon" decoration every year. You are my heroes and have helped to inspire Luck's part of this story!

Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays and Cheers Everyone!

Story under the cut:

“Does everybody understand the rules?” asked Charmy as she stood up on her chair at the front of the table.

“When has anyone here ever followed the rules?” quipped Zora with a snarky, lopsided grin that earned a few snickers from his nearby squad mates.

Charmy huffed and crossed her arms. “There are only two rules which are no teaming up to help each other and no eating the cookies or decorations until Captain Yami and Nacht finish judging and declare the winner. We can all follow those right?”

“The only one who is going to break that second rule is you, Charmy,” teased Vanessa who seemed more interested in her glass of wine than the plate of sugar cookies in front of her. Charmy frowned, but before she could say anything Asta interjected.

“I don’t know. These look delicious! It’ll be hard not to eat them.”

Noelle huffed. “We can eat them when they’re done, Bakasta.”

“Everyone just try your best,” said Gordon so quietly that Zora wasn’t sure if the rest of the table could hear him.

“The decorating contest will last half-an-hour and will start when we ring the bell, okay?” Charmy said, and Zora could barely stifle his laugh as Luck stood up from his chair and rang the bell repeatedly at her question. Charmy huffed at him. “Not yet, Luck.”

“Why not?” Luck pouted, and Charmy shook her head but turned to the table at large.

“Are we all ready to start?”

As his companions nodded in agreement, Zora leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “As we’ll ever be.”

“Alright. Now, Luck.”

Positively beaming, Luck rang the bell multiple times until Vanessa finally patted his shoulder and gently suggested, “That’s enough. Why don’t you go decorate your cookies now?”

Zora couldn’t help but laugh as Luck scurried back into his seat and began slapping icing in big spoonfuls onto one of his cookies teasing Magna that he would finish decorating much faster than him. It wasn’t long before those two bozos had more icing on themselves than on their cookies.

To Zora’s right, Gordon, Grey, and Gauche were being much more careful—cautiously painting their cookies with the tiniest bits of icing of various colors. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Gauche’s cookie was starting to look more and more like Marie as time went on, though he was too far away to get a good look at it. Gordon was closest, and he seemed to be making a Black Bulls robe for his snowman cookie while Grey and Henry passed the powdered sugar back and forth.

Farther down the table, Noelle was scolding Asta for covering his cookie in the sprinkles she wanted to use, and Vanessa was laughing and mopping up the wine Finral had spilt when he was reaching for one of the bowls of icing.

He didn’t look nearly as amused as he whined, “This is my favourite shirt, Vanessa.”

“Use some white wine to get the stain out. It’ll be fine.” Still laughing, she shrugged and waved her hand before she finished the little bit of wine that was still in her glass.

Zora was laughing some himself when he saw Liebe steal a bowl of gumdrops from Secre when she wasn’t looking and caught Charmy sneaking a couple bites of her cookie while everyone else was preoccupied, breaking her own rules she was so concerned about in the first place.

“Aren’t you going to decorate too?” asked a frosting-covered Magna peering over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Zora peered down at his plate of cookies, but he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m just thinkin’ about how to decorate them.” He tilted his head teasingly. “And you’re not supposed to help me, remember?”

“Oh forget the rules! Like you said, we were never going to follow them anyway. Even Charmy’s breaking them.”

“I am not!” Charmy protested defensively, but the bits of frosted cookie on her sweater suggested otherwise.

“You’re covered in crumbs,” teased Vanessa, playfully poking her in the side.

“Those are from earlier.”

“Charmy—” Magna huffed but was interrupted by Luck triumphantly shoving his cookie in his face.

“I finished first!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest with pride as he showed off his “masterpiece” to his friends.

Zora’s brow furrowed. “What is it exactly?”

“It’s a dragon!”

“What does a dragon have to do with Christmas?” asked Magna quirking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a Christmas dragon,” Luck insisted, and Magna rolled his eyes.

“There’s no such thing as a Christmas dragon.”

Chuckling cheerfully, Luck teased in an almost sing-song voice, “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it and that I finished decorating before you.”

“You’re not done, dumbbell,” interrupted Zora motioning to Luck’s plate of a handful of undecorated cookies.

“Well I still have one finished, but Magna doesn’t have any and you haven’t even started yet.” He bounced up and down shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You should get started, Zora, otherwise you’ll come in last place.”

“It’s not that kind of a competition, Luck,” huffed Magna returning to his cookie decorating.

With a tilt of his head, Zora glanced over the clock. Their half-hour of decorating time was slipping away quickly. He sighed. He didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. He wasn’t exactly a master decorator and hadn’t decorated cookies since he was a kid.

Something dulled but familiar ached in his chest at that thought. Decorating cookies around the holidays was something he had always done with his dad, and it felt strange to be sitting here now, staring at a plate of sugar cookies and bowls of icing—all grown up without him.

*-*-*

“Look what I made, Dad!” exclaimed Zora excitedly holding up his decorated sugar cookie to his father. His dad made a show of inspecting the cookie—a snowman with candies for eyes and a bright red licorice scarf.

“Hm…very fine craftsmanship. Notice how the artist has used both icing and candy for his decorations—very inventive.” His father’s eyes twinkled at him as his face lit up into a bright, warm smile. “I give it a 10 out of 10 for presentation, but how does it taste?”

He handed the cookie back to Zora for him to try, but he shook his head insisting, “I made it for you.”

“Well alright then.” His dad hummed as he bit into the cookie. “Mhm…delicious. 10 out of 10 for taste too. You definitely win this year’s Ideale cookie competition.”

Chuckling, Zora rolled his eyes. “It’s not a competition. Dad. There’s just me—I can’t win if there aren’t any other people playing too.”

His dad’s face softened, and he ruffled his hand through Zora’s hair. “Who knows maybe someday you’ll get to decorate cookies with your friends.” He pulled his son into a tight hug. “But no matter what, I’ll always be rooting for you.”

*-*-*

The usually hard lines of Zora’s face softened at the memory, and his mouth twitched into the slightest bittersweet smile as he watched his squad mates—his friends—in all their cookie decorating chaos. His dad would have loved them, chaos, quirks, and all. A warm feeling spread through the ache in his chest, and he blinked his misty eyes at them. His dad would have loved how soft his squad was making him too.

After wiping his sleeve across his eyes, Zora reached out and picked up one of the cookies on his plate shaped like a snowman. With a playful, lopsided grin, he gathered his various colors of icing, candies for the eyes, and red licorice for the scarf. As he stared down in triumph at his ingredients, he could no longer hold back the smile that tugged at his mouth or the thought that tugged at his heart, Wish me luck, Dad.

#friendsgiving event #black clover writing requests #holiday story #zora ideale #zora ideale and the Black Bulls #zara ideale #black clover fanfic #the black bulls as family #zara ideale is the best dad #answered requests

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thedarkoneswithin · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t let miss Faulkner sleep! ( Part 1 )

Word COUNT: 2.8k words

If you ain’t 13 or older this story may creep you out.

Your free to leave!

This is the first text i wrote in a long time.

I hope you enjoy!!

Also; sorry if you find spelling mistakes, i tried to edit it out.

My pencil makes led scratches against the canvas. Etching the cascading sunrays that shimmered from the calm current off the harbor here in Collingwood. The old grain elevator still stood tall after all these years, stalwart against the strains of time which had won some battles against the chipped-away surface of this local historical site. Our town has seen an injection of tourist botox that has turned a naturally beautiful landscape into a silicone shell of its former self. Natural parks no longer brimming with pine trees and plantations that grow side by side, but instead a surgeon’s knife that had cut through the natural order, ripping out the roots and keeping what Instagram and TikTok viewers deem acceptable in a world of filters and falseness.

I sat in my favorite spot on the road leading up to those historical terminals, working on my sketch when my work phone began to buzz relentlessly in my pocket. I put down my shading pencil, flipping open my phone. And yes, ‘flipping’ it open. I can hear your judgment behind these typed words.

To give you an idea of what I do. I work as an independent personal support worker, meaning I own my own PSW company. I have my clients, but things have slowed down over the past couple of years due to a recession, along with inflation making my prices increase, and in turn, my clients heading to more affordable homes, rather than one-on-one care.

“Hello. This is Kris Scott of Compassionate Care.” I said, trying to sound professional, covering up my deep desperation for more work.

“Hello. My name is Dr. Khaleed. I work as a neurologist who specializes in Alzheimer's. I was wondering if we could have you take care of one of our early symptomatic patients near London Ontario. When can I book you for an interview?”

“I-I am free. Free whenever!” My overly giddy, the stammering voice may as well have screamed ‘Please god, pay me!’

“Excellent. Today is Monday, so perhaps tomorrow at three in the afternoon?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much!”

As soon as my thumb grazed the red phone icon to end the call, I was in my Hyundai and speeding off on the 401. Making my three-hour drive in two and a half and booking my room at the first hotel I set my sights on, which unfortunately was a Ramada.

I scarfed down chicken wings that tasted like oven-baked fisher price plastic, then went right to bed. I wanted to feel as fresh and well-rested as I could for my newest client since my next client visit wasn’t for another week anyways.

I had expected us to meet up in an office or at a hospital in the mid-sized city, but instead, we met on an old dirt road just a little way outside the city, near a farmhouse. I will not give much description of the house, as all addresses are private.

“So, are we doing the interview out here?” I tried to make light of this peculiar situation.

“I apologize. Do you prefer Kris or…?” he asked politely, a kind smile had formed as he spoke.

“Kris is fine. And you?”

“You may call me Ameer. I have been the neurologist for this client for, well, let’s just say it has been a good portion of my professional career.” He let out a hearty laugh, his belly reverberating with each inhale.

“She must be important to you.”

Ameer nodded, motioning for me to follow him. As we moved closer to this impressive-sized, three-story farmhouse, Ameer stopped, looking up at the sun bursting through a breach in the cloud coverage. As I looked around to marinade in this area, I could see a hawk with its wide-reaching wingspan swoop down and land swiftly onto a stump nearby the house, just up the hill.

Ameer handed me a closed dossier. “These are your new clients’ paperwork. Should you choose to take on this job, of course.” His voice was emphatic with gratitude and a small pang of excitement hidden somewhere between his spoken words.

“Yes. Yes of course!” I shook his hands and took the documents from him. My heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and a touch of dread, given the new commute I had just inherited.

He walked me to the porch of this old farmhouse, and it was the doors themselves that threw me through a loop. The doors were not your traditional wood doors with that initial screen door that never closes and always slams open and closed at the mere feel of the wind.

A metal double door with no handle whatsoever. Life itself punched me in the snout with a red flag.

“Why?” was all I could ask when looking at this completely out-of-place contraption.

“The first owner wanted his home turned into a facility for your new client. A facility to keep her safe. Out in this area, the trucks rip down the highway at stupid speeds. Doesn’t want his last living relative to go out like that. Especially with her beginning to sundown.”

To those that do not know sundowning is a state of confusion that can happen in the late afternoon or night and can have all types of behaviors associated with it, all depending on the person and their situational triggers.

I’ve had war veterans as clients who after eight at night would build a barricade or dig holes and lay in them for hours. Some would wander from one town to the next. Every person’s dementia and Alzheimer’s are different. The same is for sundowning.

When we entered, my red flag and that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach almost completely alleviated. If this was a facility. It was state-of-the-art, all while feeling comfortable.

Every shelf and cupboard had locks. This lucky lady had her dietary aide who would come in and make all her meals. Central air is every form of streaming service you could ask for. A wifi connection so powerful I could watch a live sports streaming service on internet explorer on my flip phone. Okay, maybe not explorer, but chrome most certainly.

I know many of you assume that something crazy or weird would just happen that night I took the job, maybe that week? No. Nothing happened for nearly a year.

I became so unbelievably happy with this client. I dropped all my others, and because the pay was substantial. I mean. Substantial.

The rules of this client, Mrs. Faulkner, were simple:

-Do not let Mrs. Faulkner sleep until just before sundown. Otherwise, she will wake up in hysteria and begin to wander.

-Mrs. Faulkner always has her medicine after dinner, always before sundown as it will stabilize her serotonin, along with inducing sleep.

-Should Mrs. Faulkner wake up in the night, be wary of her disposition. Treat her as if she is sleepwalking and monitor her behavior. Do not intervene unless the need arises.

Most of these rules you will find are standard amongst retirement homes. They were more than easy to follow. They had been passed down by the owner of the home now turned facility, who as I would learn later down the line, was the power of attorney for Mrs. Faulkner. He had been her uncle and caretaker till his death a week before I was hired on. A multi-millionaire who had found great success as a dairy farmer and had several stakes in businesses all over the surrounding counties, so needless to say; Mrs. Faulkner's inherited estate could afford all of this.

I scanned my key card at the door, and when it buzzed, I opened the double doors, walking into a nice refreshing blast of cool air. I saw the dietary aide, Tracy, chopping her onions, boiling the rice, and making a pot of tea for our shared client.

“Hey Trace!”

She looked back up at me with a smile, her eyes watery from the fresh onion, “Her girl!” she called out, tossing the pieces onto the frying pan. That satisfying sizzle immediately followed.

“How’s Mrs. Faulkner today?” I asked, putting my bags into the closet, and then locking it.

“She is doing better since her fall in the shower last night. Poor thing. They had her up all night last night, and she has been awake all day today.”

“Where is she now?” I asked.

Tracy pointed to the living room, where Mrs. Faulkner sat in her lazy boy recliner, sitting in the dark, scribbling away at her notepad.

Mrs. Faulkner was likely a tall woman, she had a hunch and needed a walker as she moved, so it was hard to fully gauge her height. Even as a hunched-over person, she was nearly six feet tall.

She was African American, curled dark hair, and would always tell us about her stories growing up in South Africa. Then moving here with her family when she was in her mid-twenties to attend school.

For a woman in her late seventies, she still tried to take care of herself. Vegetarian diet. Practicing yoga, even despite her physical limitations. She also deeply loved reading and drawing and writing too. She was a woman of many hobbies and talents.

I sat with her, trying to get a peek at her drawing, but as usual, she playfully hid her work from me. A new habit she had been forming these past three or four days.

“It’s not ready, Kris,” she said with that familiar and kind smile forming on her face.

“Just a glance!” I said playfully.

She held her notebook to her chest, “I think not!” she laughed, waving me off in a joking manner.

“Alright, you two. The meals are cooked. All the cabinets are locked back up. Don’t make a mess of it while I am gone.” Tracy waved goodbye and made her way out the door and into her car.

Our day was a mostly routine one. I bathed Mrs. Faulkner. Gave her dinner, she took her medications, and then she was off to bed. Her bedroom is the last room, the end of the hall on the second floor. She refused to take the guest room on the first floor. Always insisting that the stairs ‘kept her young.’

“Alright Mrs. Faulkner. Time to get some sleep.”

Right after I had said those words, I can still remember vividly the crashing of wind against the house and the way it creaked, the foundation groaning against the gale force.

“Hard to do with all that racket!” Mrs. Faulkner complained.

“Lucky enough for you, you’ve got strong meds,” I said with a wink. Making sure my favorite client was tucked in and comfy before leaving.

“Maybe if the oncoming storm wakes me up, we can play a hard loop of stuff” her smile extended on her face.

“Oh, and how do we play…that?” I asked, a little baffled by her unusual request.

“It’s a game I used to play a lot back home. I’ll teach it to you. You only need to play once.” She closed her eyes, that smile still plastered on her face.

As I left the room, I quickly glanced behind me to make sure she was still tucked in bed. She was still lying in bed, but her grin was wide-daggered teeth. Her eyes imprinted on my spine.

That was the first time that I saw her like that. Like she scared me. And she wasn’t even trying.

At least, not that time.

I closed the door and in truth, sped off downstairs to grab my cell phone which was still charging on an end table in the living room. Just as I reached for it, the ringtone blared its tune so loud it made me jump. I shook off my stupidity and answered it.

“Hello?” I asked. My voice quaking.

“Kris, it’s Ameer. Is Mrs. Faulkner in bed?”

I was a little taken aback by the question. For almost a year I had done this job without missing a beat.

“Yes?” my voice likely sounded a little defensive.

“Did she take her medication?”

“Yes,” I reassured him.

“Okay. Good, good. That’s good.” His sighs of relief only made me feel more bothered.

“What is the matter?” In truth, I wanted to ask him what his problem was. I knew how to do my job.

“When she was at the hospital there was a situation.” My wounded pride turned to concern in seconds.

“Situation? What happened Ameer?”

“From what I hear she didn’t get her medication due to the concussion she suffered. I don’t know if something happened, but they’ve requested me at the hospital A.S.A.P. Listen. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on. Just hang tight and be careful, okay?”

The line ended immediately.

“Be careful?” I said the words out loud, then swallowed the fear that emanated from the most unlikely of statements.

I made my way to the guest room that was now fashioned into a work office of sorts, closing the door behind me. I began to step towards the computer desk in the center of the room when that all too familiar feeling of paranoia and overreaction hit me like an anxiety-tidal wave and rushed back to the door, locking it.

I perched myself on that god-awful gaming chair that we inherited from Tracy’s son for our workspace. Booting up the PC and began to type away at an overview of the night so far. Essentially working through the nightly expectation checklist.

Our computer also had a live feed of cameras throughout the house. A necessary breach of privacy to keep Mrs. Faulkner alive and in good condition.

I scanned through the live feed. All was well. Mrs. Faulkner still practically swaddled in her bed.

It was clacking away at the keyboard when I noticed a note from the previous worker, Abigail. She had been taking care of the previous owners’ estate when there was one item still unaccounted for.

An access code to the locker directly behind me.

Thunder began to bellow low warning groans that whiffed by my ignorant ears.

I left the office to do my hourly check around the house and on my client. Leaving the office, I made my way up the stairs and toward Mrs. Faulkner’s room when a blinding stream of light came crashing near the house, followed by the crackling boom of thunder.

I dashed into her room, causing poor Mrs. Faulkner to shoot up out of bed. The way she clutched her chest I thought I had put the old bat in cardiac arrest.

“Oh, my lord Kris. You should be a little more careful considering you have to clean and change me!” she yelled.

Something about that statement made me feel at ease, in truth. Something in her voice that felt docile. That lack of that smile, that natural fear. Palpable, real jitter that felt…human.

I wish she had stayed like that.

I apologized to her, checked on her vital signs, and even did a memory test to ensure that she was not in a sundown or delusional state.

After cooing her back into her bed, I began to tuck her in.

“If you sleep through the night, maybe we can play that game you wanted to play?” I suggested to her, to which she just gave me a rather odd stare, handing me the glass she had finished drinking.

I wanted to pursue it further but she had got so worked up, she was crashing hard and needed sleep. So instead, I kept it to myself.

The power flickered throughout the halls until finally the main power failed, and the backup generator did not start up. Managing to fumble my way down the stairs I made my way back to the office, collected my phone, and noticed a missed call from the good Doctor Ameer himself.

I dialed him back. He picked up the phone in less than a ring. He was breathing. Breathing hard.

“I’m on my way to you, Kris. Is Mrs. Faulkner still asleep?” his voice was rushed, panicked.

“I just put her back to bed. She woke up during the storm, but I did the tests and…”

“Screw the tests, Kris! Do not let Mr. Faulkner sleep!” My heart sank so deep in me that I could have crapped it out right then and there.

“She is sleeping. I’m…I’m sorry. Wait. What happened? What did you find out?”

“She is fixating on Kris. Fixating dangerously. Her routine is messed up. There was never any concussion. She injured herself getting into the hospital and mess up her routine intentionally. Her drawings Kris. They are violent. They depict violence against all of us. These images. The words. This is some criminal, sycophant, planned, pervasive behavior.”

I said nothing. I melted into that chair. Staring endlessly at the locked door in front of me. My cameras were dead, and with the entire facility was key card and internet and power controlled. I was locked inside this place.

Locked in with her.

“Keep your distance, Kris. Stay safe. I will be there with emergency services. Hang tight.”

The call ended. I felt the phone slip from my face, surprised that at that moment it did not drop to the floor, instead falling harmlessly into my lap.

Something in that moment. In that feeling of despair and fear, a flicker of something hit. An epiphany.

I turned to the locker behind me. When the power went out it would run on battery, so I had time enough to enter a passcode into the pin pad.

Hard-loop of the stern. Nothing. I sighed. Then decided on another hail-mary idea of sorts.

Good old google translate.

I entered Mrs. Faulkner's words into the translator. Afrikaans to English. Expecting it to say some sort of classic kids’ game or some rendition of the sort. No. It was not that. It was not that at all.

It translated to ‘Hide or Die.

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I like to write horror/Creepy/Hospital stuff on my free time to!

I could maybe do fluff and other stuff if i get more likes.

#I suck at tags #Horror #Thriller #Horror & Thriller #Creepy #Creepypasta

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