#was reminded of this because of today's chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imorynn · 4 hours ago

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͙͘͡ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐮

͙͘͡ pairings : lilia calderu 𝓍 fem!reader

͙͘͡ word count : 8.5k+

͙͘͡ w/m : SMUT really with subtle but no sense of plot bc idfk what happened - horny parasites took over, oral ( r & lilia receiving ), soft!dom!lilia, begging, praise, overstimulation, fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, nipple play, strap usage penetration ( lilia receiving ), enchanted strap, whimpering, moaning, usage of pet names, dirty talk coming from lilia, calling lilia ‘momma’ because why not, tinges and dashes and rainbow sprinkles of fluffffffffarghhhhhhh

͙͘͡ tags : @bravewithacapitalb @angeliccss @weemswife @multixfan @missquints @raustenacious @theonefairygodmother @astrophiliaxx @alittlewitchyone @renyfisher @amethyst-bitch @gilmoresliarss @livforlive @thoroughly--confused @ofgoldandbraid @gayestswiftie @delusionalforolderwomen @kenzie-floops @liliastriangle @mymiraclewitch @kinglet1963 @misschanandlerbong25 @cowboykya @bloodycoochielicker @libbythatcherssecretgf @taurus-baby-34 @grifffins @nutritionat @hyper-queer-fixated @taurus-baby-34 @ahsfan05 @chiefofmilfs @grifffins @justartever @sweetcheeksschemmenti @refreshingly-original

͙͘͡ dividers by : @cafekitsune

author’s note : happy fucking Valentine’s Day!!!!! The amount of times I had to pause and breathe ( and beat it really ) before continuing oh my fucking gosh. I'm panicking. but this was really fun to write and based on all of this ... I think i'm gay. and horny. I don't think there's anything new there when it comes to Lilia though ? ANYWHOoooo, I hope you enjoy this filth and this day <333333333

“Y/n, doll, as much I’m enjoying your pampering and affections,” a velvet chuckle emerged from Lilia’s chest, chin inclining so very slightly away from approaching sweetness delicately pinched within your fingers. “I believe I’m going to perish if I eat another chocolate.”

Her words drew a tender smile to your face, but your resolve remained steadfast, your purpose as clear and unwavering as a vow sworn in the quietest corners of your pulsating heart. This day belonged entirely to Lilia Calderu, a sacred offering of your time and affection, each moment deliberately crafted to bathe her in the light of your love. It mattered not whether the fourteenth of February had held significance in the chapters of your life before her; in her presence, it had contorted into something extraordinary — a celebration not of fleeting gestures but about her, solely and without limits.

Your devotion was not confined to the edges of this day alone, but today it burned brighter, fiercer — a love perpetual and unrelenting, given form in the warmth of your touch and the care behind every detail. Year-round, your affection lingered quietly in the subtleties of everyday moments, but today it was a roaring flame, alive and impossible to ignore, as though the universe itself had conspired to remind her of the depths of your heart.

To you, she was no mere muse or fleeting infatuation — everything is what Lilia was to you, and this day was your love song, rendered with every beat of your being.

The makeshift home you had modified for her spoke volumes of your boundless devotion, every attribute scrupulously chosen to reflect the depths of your affection. Crimson and scarlet balloons levitated languidly in every corner, their mylar surfaces adorned with sugary declarations of love that teetered between grimacing cheesy and utterly heartfelt. From the ceiling hung a cascade of handmade hearts, each one preciously imperfect, a signature of your touch that her keen gaze could not miss.

The floor was strewn with rose petals, their scattered pattern a cryptic language only you could decipher. That waking morning, the space had already been graced with seven bouquets of her most beloved flowers, their vibrant blooms nestled amongst an already extravagant collection of gifts, hand-written notes, and confections so lavish they seemed fit for royalty. The sheer abundance was almost overwhelming, a grand testament to the way your love could not be contained, spilling over in every conceivable way, saturating the air with warmth and adoration.

Any other day, she might have persuaded you to temper your enthusiasm. Not easily, of course — your adoration for her knew no bounds, and reining it in was a near-impossible feat. But Valentine’s Day held a different kind of magic for you, and Lilia, though unfazed by the festivity, found herself reveling in it, unveiling things she had long forgotten. It had been decades, centuries even, since she had basked in affection so freely offered.

For so long, the world had regarded her with suspicion, fear, even disdain, seeing only what they could not understand or simply not wanting to. But you — goodness, you, beheld her in all her entirety, every facet laid bare, and lavished upon her the boundless depths of your love; she was the very axis of your existence, the radiant sun around which your heart revolved in perpetual devotion to her blazing light.

Her gaze flitted down, catching a glimpse of the subtle protrusion of your lower lip as you hesitantly relented to her request. With a soft sigh, you returned the heart-shaped chocolate to its similar-shaped box, unwilling to risk even the faintest discomfort for her sake. Lilia smirked softly, a silent victory for her over-indulged stomach.

She eased back into the plush embrace of the single sofa, her body sinking comfortably against the cushions. With a gesture just as inviting, she opened her arms to you who had been perched upon the ottoman in front of her. Slowly, you followed, finding your rightful spot upon her lap as her arms entwined around you.

“Valentine’s Day,” Lilia began with a thick scoff, her voice tinged with its signature mix of charm and exasperation you knew so well, “is an utterly peculiar concept to me. A single day to celebrate love? It’s positively ridiculous.” Her fingers traced idle patterns along your arm as she spoke, a dash of humor and something more quieter. “As if love could ever be contained in twenty-four fleeting hours or reduced to flowers, ridiculous chocolates, and cliché notes.”

You mimicked her scoff with curious brimmed eyes. “You say that, but you have eaten your weight in those ‘ridiculous’ chocolates a few minutes ago.”

"Chocolates you shoved in my mouth without my consent, you mean." Though she could not help but chuckle. “I suppose you're right, in a way. Though I maintain it’s a human indulgence I don’t quite understand.” She tilted her chin slightly, eyes meeting yours with an ancient depth that always left you momentarily breathless. “Do you know how many lifetimes I’ve watched pass by? Lovers fumbling through grand gestures, driven by nothing more than obligation or fear of being forgotten.” Her voice softened, dipping into something reflective. “I’ve seen love reduced to performances, fleeting and insubstantial. It lost its meaning long ago.”

Her words carried the weight of centuries, yet you could not help but catch the faintest note of melancholy threading through her usual cynicism, always making your chest churn when you witnessed it.

“But look, here you are going through all I've done for you.” you gently murmured as you cradled her cheek in hopes to draw her into this moment, “Are you truly going to tell me this doesn’t mean something to you?”

Lilia blinked, and for a moment, her meticulously crafted armor seemed to falter. “You are a cliché romantic,” she grumbled. “Perhaps you’re the exception to my incredulity. That or I’m simply growing soft in my age.”

You smiled, your fingers rising to lovingly run through her curls. “You can pretend all you want, Lilia, but I know the truth. You like this. You like being loved, even if it’s ridiculous and messy and wrapped in heart-shaped balloons.”

“Well, you do have a peculiar way of over-feeding me, drowning me in flowers, and hanging all these love hearts just slightly too low so I can’t avoid bumping into them.” she muttered into the kiss pressed against your temple, “It’s almost like you’re trying to wear me down.”

You nudged your nose gently along the angle of her jaw, a subtle but intimate gesture, and tilted your head back just enough to look at her. “Is it so wrong,” you inquired, brows hitching in feigned incredulity, “to spoil the woman I love with the gifts and adoration she deserves?”

She chortled and rolled her eyes, hand drifting from your lower back to your hip to deliver a light pinch that sent a small jolt through you. “Mmm, not wrong at all,” she mused, and the way she tightened her hold on you betrayed how much she reveled in your attention. “I guess I could endure a little more spoiling if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Her gaze flickered downward — just briefly, to the delicate and intricate jewelry resting against your collarbone, its familiar weight a quiet reminder that she, too, had indulged in today’s sentimentality. A gift from her to you, given with little fanfare but impossible to mistake for anything other than what it was; strikingly reminiscent of her own, though more you. “... and if you insist on spoiling me, it is only fair I return the favor.”

A proud lovesick grin tugged at your lips, leaning further into her as she shifted to draw you closer still, until no space remained between you and you could only inhale the sole fragrance within her clothing, her flesh, here and there delivering a light kiss that lingered longer than the one before.

There were tender digits slipping beneath her shawl and sauntering up the line of her spine, sweet lips embracing her throat lovingly, leaving warm kisses in their wake as she responded with the sounds her innards stirred and the movement her head created: drawled-out hum, a slight head tilt to allow you more access.

Lilia was well aware you were the proud proprietor of wandering hands when it came to her. So it came with no surprise when she felt the subtle strokes of what felt like circles and hearts across and behind her shoulders grow deceptively idle, and she permitted their roaming about her body, allowing the pads of your fingers to spike the temperature on her already searing skin while her own pressed into your hips, her own thoughts and desire accumulating.

“However, speaking of gifts,” Then came that puckish lilt you recognized almost immediately. Her words ruffled through your hair, octave softer, arousing, velvety. “There is one in particular I’ve been thinking about all day. Something you won’t find in a box or tied with a ribbon.”

You pulled away for a second, caught the flickering blaze within her earthen irises and swallowed softly, already anticipating her next words. “Oh?” Your gaze became lidded, entranced by the slight purse of her mouth that enhanced the fine lines around. “And what would that be?”

“You.” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but she gave you no time to respond, pressing a slow, painstaking kiss to the corner of your gaping mouth, her smile curling even wider and coy at the rouge left behind. She pulled back slightly, just enough to gauge your reaction, at the way your temerity faltered. “What do you say, darling? Will you spoil momma some more and give her what she wants?”

The way she utilized the title against you. The way her touch boldened, groped, teased, lingered, overwhelmed. “Use your words, my darling girl, I’m certain you can put that mouth to good use.”

Your hands crumbled the material of her shawl on her shoulders as your deep sigh was swallowed by Lilia, her salacious mouth coaxing a swell of sensations behind your chest that served to rouse a familiar warmth in your core, heat licking at the pulse between your legs.

“T-take what you want, Li—momma. please.”

The rather, to be blunt, sadistic part of the witch wished to ruthlessly, deridingly drag you to state specifics but her tenderness and yearn for you overpowered the desire, so instead she drifted her fingers along the hem of your lower garments, pondering, her eyes squinting before her fore and middle finger delivered two taps to your hip with a light kiss.

"On your knees, baby."

You wasted not a second in consenting to her words. You yearned to hear her talk to you, to please her — you craved every bit of it, of her. So before she knew it — though was not surprised in the slightest, you were already descending to your knees right before her, going beneath the silk fabric of her skirts that swayed across her ankles. Your hands splayed across her calves, softly skimming along the taut muscle there before your touch ascended.

Lilia released the sweetest sigh, her thighs, coming into mouth-watering view as you rumpled her clothing up to her waist, clenching as your eyes held hers, those pretty eyes; dewey, whiskey browns that taunted you. You were trembling with wanting to please her, to be good for her, to demonstrate just how deserving she was of love, of being pleased. The fevered heat in you swelled tenfold as your fingers climbed and deftly slid down her panties, a flushed red color and slightly drenched in her sex you may add, catching glimpse of the shine the second she was discarded from them.

She spread the slightest bit more, inviting you into her while yours clenched together beneath you as you stared at the apex of those tantalizing legs, and fuck, you will never not be breathless at the sight.

You allowed your thumb to push through her dampened folds, stopping at her pulsing clit, and began to partake in a pattern you knew she more than loved; gentle rubs, caring strokes, lingering presses.

The peak of your tongue darted out to lick your lips; you were drooling, feening from the mere idea of tasting her, and then you made your descent. Huffs of breaths hit her center, mingling with her growing wetness, and you refused to tear your eyes away from the cunt you made this drenched.

“Where are your manners, doll? Hmm?” Breathless she was the second hot lips suckled on her inner thighs, making her shudder as you searched through the fog in your brain for those words she sought off your lips. It was hard, talking this much when all you wanted was to feel her slick seeping on your tongue.

“Can I, Lilia?” You exhaled against her lower stomach, kissing her delicately, sweetly, sucking on the soft skin in an attempt to gain her consent, “Can I please put my mouth on you? Fuck, can I make momma come?”

You begged so sweetly, so much devotion lodged into those abyssal eyes she knew she could not deny in this moment, all to receive the most sensational hum of approval and the feel of silver bejeweled fingers soothingly running through your hair. “Put your mouth on momma, baby.”

You brought your lips to her pulsing clit, delivering a soft open-mouthed kiss for her legs to relax for a split second, a soft exhale traveling through your ears only for it to hitch when your tongue, even and flat, lulled a broad swipe through the very length of her, adding the slightest of pressure that had her nerves spasming.

You went right for it, slurping her tasteful-coated folds as though it were your only purpose. “Goodness, babyy…” Your sucks were masterful, the sensation of you trapping her clit between your lips snatching the air from her lungs, evident in the push her heaving chest created. “Good … hmm good girl.”

“I’ll do anything to please you.”

Her vulva bloomed like tulips in the peak of spring, glistening like sticky substances that smeared across it. That tongue of yours, impatient as ever, eager as ever. It made a home in her hole instantly and she rose an octave in her moans, your name dripping seductively from her parted lips. You were starving for her, famished as you lapped her, softly prodding her wider with one single palm wrapped around her inner thigh. “ ‘M doing good?”

“Y-you're doing such a great job, sweet girl.” You saw the way her head nearly became one with the cushion behind her as two of your fingers, fore and middle finger, swiftly slid inside, rubbing those gushing walls, curling deliciously, slowly.

You did not dare to falter with your wet muscle’s movement, your chin coming to prop upon your palm to gain firmer licks upon her swollen clit, rewarded with the ooze of her gush flowing like a river around you, your own slick drenching your undergarments. "You sound so fucking pretty, Lilia..."

Wet squelching noises and breathy moans followed by praise enveloped the room’s air. Your brain was pushed into a mind-bending utopia, it felt so fucking good to be the one in this position. The more speed and tongue you exerted, the lower her moans became and the more her walls swallowed digits as they carved in her. Her sharp inhale churned your brain in the best way there was, perspiring skin prickling in awe of her voluptuous body and her distorted expressions, the scrunches of her prominent nose, the puckers and lines of her mouth. So beautiful, you moaned against her.

The concept of time halted momentarily. An intake of breathing, sharp. A heartbeat, wrecked. Heat and love, tangled — pouring over, consuming, drowning you both the second her juices drizzled down your hand, your chin, and none of it going untasted by you.

Sweet assuring kisses pressed into her inner thighs, kneading her flesh while you propped yourself up to stand, questioning how she was feeling. You expected to see those eyes of hers closed, taking a brief moment to herself yet she was entirely fixated on you, pensive and lust-filled eyes boring into yours, and she reached to tug you back into your place on her, with her, upon her lap to enrich your lips with a sweet kiss.

Your head slanted whenever she pulled away for the slightest moment, pretty browns darting between your eyes before yanking you forward, mouths colliding. Instantly coiling your fingers into your silver locks, your grip feened and was overwhelmed by her, thumbs pushing into the lined flesh of her temples.

When you sucked in a sharp breath, she took advantage in deepening the kiss, savoring your taste, her taste; every stroke of her tongue was felt in every shiver erupting over your skin, in the inexplicable heaviness in your chest, the curling and scorching sensations below your navel when her touch blazed around your thighs, how her teeth dug every so often and gently into the plush of your lower lip.

“L-Lilia , please, please, I need you—”

Your breath stuttered, cutting sharply at your throat when her palm trailed over the curve of your ass, kneading into the supple flesh that had jolts clawing up your spine. Touches became languid and dizzying, and you groaned when her fingers barely brushed over your entrance, nothing but sheer slick heat eagerly greeted her, and a low hum came from her. Something of a familiar spark, firm and sizzling hot was nearly close to striking between your slick folds, conjured by the very tips of her middle and ring finger that caused your hips to stutter.

“Oh, fretful girl,” she crooned, your longing hole constricting ferociously in anticipation. Lilia placed a capable palm up against the back of your neck, squeezing all tenderly and possessively. Your lips parted and released a soft moan, hearing her hum into the curve of your throat when she drew you in for a moment, pressing soft kisses along the length of it

“Divine Mother, you’re so desperate, baby, aren’t you? Willing to let me take anything I want, hmm?” she tsk’ed in concealed sympathy and a helpless ‘oh’ prolonged from your mouth as you shamelessly rutted against her stomach.

Her voice lured you into that inescapable place only she could reach, where every thought, every breath, every segment of your being belonged solely to her. It left you untethered, your mind clouded with nothing but her, until existing beyond her presence felt impossible — unthinkable.

You could feel her rings touch the edge of your entrance, not ever going in as she made sure to rub two fingers against you, or how she made it certain in nudging the cool rims assisted with the spasming fury of her magic against your clit, watching perspiration collect and bead over the crown of your head and to your fluttering lashes.

She dragged her digits up against your bare cunt, beseeching eyes tunneling into hers as they slowly dragged down, never faltering in their firm pressure. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Slowly then shoving between, limbs halfway being swallowed by your narrowing walls. Your head attempted to fall upon the space of her shoulder trying to find some type of anchorage, yet the firm grip she had upon the back of your head was difficult to go against. She was endeared in seeing your pretty features, all scrunched and pathetic. Her pathetic girl.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, darling, and you’re going to give me more?”

You choked on your own words but nodded frantically, chin dipping down and gyrating your hips forward in hopes to engulf the entirety of her fingers. “Yes, mmmm, imma come! you can do whatever — whatever, please, jus’ put them in—”

Lifting her lips to slide over your cheekbone, she pressed them to your temple as she increases the pace of her fingers. She did not need you to utter it twice — she was going to give in to you this time, uttering something latin beneath her breath and allowing her bare fingers to slip in entirely. Pumping through the squelching velvet, your hips canted against her until you found yourself moaning at the way she abundantly tore you apart.

Whines and whimpers rolled into heavy and loud moans that rumbled in the depths of your throat, eyes shuttering for a moment as her lips stroked across yours. It was carnal and leisured, the way she ruthlessly drilled into you, how sinfully wet it was as she lapped up the lingering taste of your damp chamber, the strong and addicting flavor that is solely you as she brought you impossibly closer, your thighs digging into each side of her hips.

“Come, baby, come for momma.” The coil snapped at her murmur, bursting and scattering — a euphoric feeling that surged entirely through you like a strong current, threatening to yank you underwater as you came, her palm glistening with your wetness.

Hands flexed in their position on her shoulders to her nape and she took that as an invitation, a plea falling from your panting mouth. Once again, her warm lips so very gently pushed against your own, your exhales heaving when she departed from you, just to repeat her actions over and over again, lingering a second longer against you every time with the assistance of a soft praise. “Hi, baby... my lovely girl.”

You gave her a dazed and dumbfounded smile, still floating, barely conscious but allowed yourself to kiss her. "Hi, Lilia."

A sigh whirled from your throat like smoke, barely there, but unmistakably content. Lilia hummed, pleased and indulgent, sweetly drawing as she held you, cradling your head against her neck. Your body was pliant, yielding beneath her touch, molded into her frame as though it had always been meant to rest there.

You believed it was over. That now, you could melt into the cradle of her warmth, spent, sated, claimed. Yet then, she moved. A slow, intended shift beneath you, the sudden flex of her thighs, the pressure against the dip of your spine pushing you further into her, the featherlight graze of her breath carrying something perilous, something unfinished.

“I hope you know we aren’t done here, darling.” Smooth, tinged with amusement because she knew. Knew the foolish little thought that had flickered through your mind, that you had reached the peak, the end, the final wrap ups of this yearly festivity. But that tone, rich with relishment and something proprietorial, spoke to you otherwise.

You whimpered as her fingers traced lazy, knowing paths down over your sensitized and soaked flesh, a promise in every measured touch. While she planted a loving kiss on your forehead, she lowly uttered, “we’ve only just begun.”

The atmosphere enveloping you was sultry, and the room now smelt not only like Lilia's addicting fragrance but of you, your sex. You laid across the tangled bedsheets upon your shared mattress, thighs forced apart into the pillow's plushness, pussy spread open for your lover's filthy onslaught.

Lilia had situated herself between your legs with a plush pillow propped beneath her arm, flushed cheek nestled against your inner thigh while smiling at the sight of your face; mouth stained with her lipstick, jaw slack, crumbling right before her very eyes.

But as her head slanted down, this sight had become her prior fixation; tender, swollen lips glistening, thighs constricting and painted with juices flowing from your pussy, walls fluttering senselessly around nothing but the deep exhales and the nudges from her nose she granted you, spasming to feel more, the scent intoxicating and flooding her whole.

“ I need you to hold it in for a moment, can you do that for me, doll?” Ringed digits clasped around your hips and drew you closer, planting a soft kiss on your thigh.

“Lilia, I don’t think I can —”

Your weak protest contorted into a breathless shriek as burning specks returned and a sharp smack collided with your upper leg. “I thought you wanted to spoil momma with everything she wanted on this day, that you'd 'do anything to please her', ” Her lovely pout caused you to whimper before your blown out gaze averted behind her, hypnotized by the silhouette of her naked, curved figure. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny me this.”

You did not have time to think or speak as soon as her tongue peeked out to tease you with the essence that was so distinctly you. An audible slurp caused your entire body to freeze as her lips brushed and evoked the bursts of magic over your bundle of nerves, watching as its yellow hue shimmer while it swelled, reflecting the sparkling droplets of your arousal. While she suckled on it softly, the tiny action from her lips made it go away, freeing your clit from her magic's assault only momentarily, leaving it open for her mouth to waste no time in latching onto.

“Fuck!—N-no, wait, s-slow down—” Too much it was for you, trying to retreat from a mouth so welcoming, so sloppy, so overwhelming. But her arms coiled around your thighs firmly, never daring to tear those brown depths away from you as she slowly hoisted you over her shoulders, preventing you from any chance of escape.

“You owe momma this treat,” she murmured, receiving a pathetic whine. “Need to taste my baby. So let me damn have it.”

She clutched you close, the flat of her tongue kneading through your slit up to your nub, fervent chocolate hues daring you to look away. She was utterly relentless, sending jolts of tormented pleasure through you, each mewl and cry motivating her.

She savored your pussy again and again and again, the pace was slow, torturous. It had you sobbing as narrowed waves of scorching sensations made you pulse and ache, the weight of her arms keeping you in place. She quivered with anticipation, because how could something so quintessential be hard to tame at the moment when she yearned for it?

“L-lili, i need a minute, please—” you softly rasped out, cunt pulsating ways you did not think it possibly could and brought your hand down to her unruly curls. The haste of her head shake had your swollen nub following her smiling mouth, her words vibrating through your nerves.

“I don’t think so, doll,” A firm suction enveloped your folds, wet lips leaving as soon as they came pulling a cry out of you. “You still have some more in you. I taught you better than this.”

Hurt feigned in the quirk of her brows and pushed the corners of her mouth down. “Trust me, baby. Don’t you trust momma?” Your chin trembled while trying to tie together a coherent fucking sentence, instantaneous regret tightening around your throat at Lilia’s sharp intake of breaths and stern look.

She could sense the way your gaze was about to avert from hers until her right palm glided down your thigh, the warmth of it simmering the already perspired flesh as it slid its way down before pinching.

“Eyes on me always, understand?” Fingertips dug into the quivering muscle, and it had you moaning before you exhaled and slowly nodding. “Be a good girl and come again. I know you can. You can take another.”

Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, the velvet muscle she was blessed with smoothly grazing the surface of her teeth, the sole display caused a jolt to pulse down between the center of your legs before the plane of it skimmed to flatten languidly over your swollen pearl. She blew out a chuckle at the tears kissing your waterline, clumping your pretty lashes when they flittered down, curtaining the broadness of your pupils while whimpering out an ‘okay, momma’.

You back bowed at the broad touch of her lips, fingers digging into the mattress at the precipitation of her tongue’s wide strides. The pulsing of your heart halted for a second, the riot of sensations she conjured up seemed unfathomable once her coaxed praises rumbled through you.

Your head receded back, mindlessly writhing and squirming with no sense of rhythm and flow behind your movements. The sharp coiling in your stomach became irrefutable and compelling as her tongue gently traversed the contours of your folds, descending towards your oozing entrance, soon lapping vigorously. Without any hurry, sucking and licking as if it was the sweetest thing conjured in the wretched world.

Lilia was drunk on the waves of your sex, praising with her tongue as you release once, twice, three, almost four fucking times, wide irises pinpointing themselves to the moisture — practically drenches cascading from your core. Her touch rose to graze the already sensitive lips of your cunt that caused any air from your lungs to burn enticingly.

The bend of your knees hoisted over her collarbones as she tenderly shifted you closer to her mouth. "Look at me now.” She firmly instructed once she sensed your final orgasm approaching, and this time her fingers slipped themselves in your sopping pussy, coating them with her spit and the slick she collected before ramming them back within your suffocating walls.

You watched as her ringed digits bore into your depths, tugging a weep out of you — filthy, rasped with spit when she nudged that special spot. Lilia fucked your cunt with ferocity, her other hand coming to coax your revolving hips.

You were quivering, your legs stretching wider as those nimble fingers acted in and out of your hungry hole. “Would you look at that, darling? How my fingers perfectly slip in and out of my baby’s cunt, as if they were divine to fit there?”

And there it was — that sharp burning pleasure and pain coiling and twisting deep within you from the venereal words she wondrously uttered, all of it unraveling with a throaty sob, racketing your every limb with its fervency.

She slowly hoisted up, lips glazed with your arousal before she licked over their coating. "Good girl." she murmured clear enough for you to hear. You did not respond and she did not expect you to, yet she knew you caught it once your hand stroked her hair and hummed. She simply waited and gave you a moment to catch your breath, soft kisses swatting away the tears upon your cheeks. To gather what was left of your energy and make do with it, because you were uncertain about what more she was going to take from you.

And the thought alone could not wait any longer. The exhilaration of using a recent gift, one she managed to get for you — and her, really, rippled through her when she climbed off the bed and walked towards your shared dresser. Peering down at it once in her held, she ran a finger along the very length with a wry curve of a smile, one of those smiles that melted your innards and jittered your limbs all at once the second your irises came to view, only for them to broaden and become endearingly astonished at the sight of her; unveiled, raw, unabashed, ethereal.

“W-where did you get that, l-love?” Your hazed question stumbled when you see what had been tenderly slid up your aching hips and nestled between your legs, already pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard. She did not respond just yet, the proud smile lifting the corners of her mouth and the spark in her orbs spoke loud enough for your eyes to once again widen.

The weariness nearly completely disintegrated from your system when she bestrode you, her weight firmly pinning you down while rotund thighs framed your sides. Palms instinctively planted over them, slightly sinking your teeth into your lower lip at the sight of what was now between your legs, at how it leaned up and against your stomach, shining with a generous coating of lubricant.

The golden wisps of her magic appeared at the tips of her flexing fingers before they came down to make contact with the silicone, softly sizzling along your lower abdomen, and before you knew it, something felt different. The subtle details upon it were more enhanced, the once solid veins aligning, curling around and gaining a liquid amber tinge.

It was not just the sight of the toy that floored you, but Lilia herself; the soft curves of her full hips seemed to invite touch, while the gentle sag of her breasts added a depth of allure, their weight swaying with each breath and movement, catching the flicker of light like a living sculpture. Freckles and faint lines traced over her shoulders and down her chest, a map of stories and moments etched into her skin, and all of it had you overwhelmed, enthralled, salivating even.

Her head dipped just slightly, breathing out when your mouth moved across her jaw and down the silken texture of her neck. “So beautiful, Lilia...” you inhaled her fragrance, teeth subtly grazing the tender flesh beneath her ear, hands gliding up her body and you could not help the whimper leaving you the second you became more in contact with her flesh. Gosh, she was so pretty, so lovely, engulfing your heart in a blazing fire that conjured an ache you could not, you did not want to soothe.

You came in contact with the elegant hollow of her clavicle, tongue dipping so tenderly to taste the subtly dusted skin there, gaze soon falling over the older witch’s breasts. It was instant, the reflex of your hands, your mouth taking over before your mind could process; eager hands cupping and raising the heaviness of her mound, salivating mouth latching onto her taut nipple.

Fuck, how you wanted to envelop her entirely, yet much to your dismay, instead you settled for swirling the delicate peak between your teeth — licking, nibbling, sucking, marking while your hand kneaded the other.

“Hungry for me, baby?” She rasped with a huff of a chuckle, tangling her fingers to your hair and cradling the back of your head. “You like the taste of momma?”

“I’m always hungry for you,” you muttered around her, giving a firm suction. “I’ll never get enough of you.” A long moan tumbled out her chest at the low timbre of your words; the feel of liquid heat pooling her areola, at the sensual gnaw of your incisors. You gave the same attention to her other tit, your palm coming down to press against the small of her back, pushing her deeper into you as if that would give you more access to her wholeness.

This went on for a few or so minutes, meaty flesh bitten, dark nipples flushed and pruned, coated with your spit. “Alright, love, that’s enough,” she groaned softly, tearing your latching mouth away from her raw nub. “I prefer your mouth somewhere else now.”

She hitched herself higher, a leg curling over your shoulder, pulling you closer. Your mouth watered at the sight of her — her arousal dripping, glistening, a silent plea to be savoured.

Lifting your gaze, you sought her approval, and it came in the form of a half-lidded stare, a smoldering decree spun from silk and embers. "Go on, baby.”

There was something grandiose and something virtuous in this — something beyond hunger, beyond mere indulgence. To witness her like this, to be the sole recipient of such a sight, her unguarded pleasure, was a privilege that left you breathless. The power she held over you was all-encompassing, from her actions, from the simple act of breathing, something more than sexual as her essence coated your lips. In the way her very existence unraveled you.

The way her fluids became the nectar your tongue savored as you thirsted, consumed it. How your wet cheek nuzzled into her inner thigh before diving back in, absorbing yourself into her flesh as you palmed her by the ass closer, finger pads digging into her cheeks.

“There we go, baby … r-right there, fuuuck–” She tamed every savage glide and stroke of your tongue with her palms upon your head. Rigid breaths contained the exact pace she wanted you to create, though in truth, her guidance was pointless compared to your capabilities, your whole nature in pleasuring her from the way you sent her spiraling into iridescent specks of light and euphoric bliss was what she felt recoiling in her abdomen, soon feeding both your sinful cravings as she came.

You were intoxicated with the palatable taste of her pussy, giving her ovations with your tongue through her prolonged orgasm still trembling through her. Her thigh then was descended, sweetly smiling down at you.

Your silence lumbered a concern through her, leading her fingers down to gently curl around the sides of your neck, thumbs prodding your chin up. There was a spasm of worry across your features, earnest eyes peering up at her. “Have you uh …. ever used …”

She harbored a gentle grin, her hold on your neck carrying more pressure. You could not contain the gasp of ecstasy when she did so, throat dipping with each eager swallow of your inhales. "You think an old witch like me can’t have a fun sex life?” She paused for a moment before adding with a tilt of a smirk, "But yes. I've had some ... practice. By myself, for you."

She chuckled at the moan that erupted through you. As she soothed your head with her touch, the illusions of her touching, fucking herself just to prepare for this had an ambition growing to touch her once more, to stroke away the loose curls from her bare shoulders, to litter her pretty skin with sweet kisses, to let your hands linger over her breasts, let them travel farther down and act upon what she had planned.

"You will be able to feel every bit of me as I of you, darling. It may overwhelm you for a moment." Your brows comically rose to your hairline, lips parted at this interesting revelation as your hands softly glided up her body. The blow of her breath muddled your mind as she pulled you to her mouth, words aerated as she continued, "Should you move and come without my consent, you will suffer the consequences, understood?"

Her thumbs pushed against the corners of your pouting mouth. She watched as your eyes broadened in beseech and frustration, wanting to retort at this hell-brought request, your grip on her hip tightening. She only shook her head once more, a warning streaking her features before her hips began elevating, dragging her soaking cunt down your coiling abdomen.

Inexorably, the plump head of your shaft in your other palm was gently pumped as she began to slowly settle down, parting her folds and descending deeper and deeper until you were completely enveloped by her moistened warmth. Each slow inch put in was a revelation, a quiet step closer towards undoing.

The instant there was nothing left to put in, Lilia trapped the strap inside her soft walls, restricting your movement at the same time your glossed eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wet and obscene glides, the exquisite feelings, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her as she molded to your shape, tugging you deeper into her decadence. The stimulation weakened your muscles, eyes watching her every move intently to closing on their own as if it was too much for you to handle.

"Don't move yet, baby."

Oxygen spiked and stuttered, spewing out in soft, broken whimpers, the octave raw with the weight of new territory. Sensation overtook thought, each nerve set ablaze, every fluttering pulse a hymn of ecstasy. As if in a trance, you did just as you were told. Pupils twitching under your closed eyelids, forehead resting against her neck with a deep inhale of her aroma in hopes for it, for her to alleviate this pulsing ache.

"Are you alright? Darling – shit, talk to me. Does this feel good, hmm?"

“Yes, yes, it’s amazing…” you whimpered into her skin, a shiver clawing up your spine and your arms wrapped around her tightly. “I-it almost hurts, Lilia.”

Her gentle chuckle nuzzled across your temple. “There we go, it's alright, doll,” she sweetly soothed, features content, caught in their own bliss. She grabbed ahold of your jaw, fingertips tenderly kneading the skin there and tilted your face towards hers. “Momma will make it better for you, okay ? I won't move yet. The pain will cease … you just have to trust the process.”

Her gaze flitted down to your breasts, reminiscing their very shape, the way each droplet of sweat painted down your hued skin, somehow accentuating every detail of your body. The moment of her staring was for a handful of seconds, yet to both of you it felt like a lifetime. Your hands, having a hopeless mind of their own, trailed from her hipbone to her stomach.

Searching your eyes for a moment, wanting the final approval for her to continue, if she was truly certain you could handle more of what she was about to take and give.

And you could. You would and trusted her blissing actions. It was evident in each keening sweep of your fingers along the soft slope of her stomach, the way the brims of your teeth scraped across her lips, her neck and shoulders, down her breasts. It made the heat take over, a raging conflagration rising up within her until it surged into her starting pace; slow, steady, grinding.

Your mind became clouded and the pulsing between your legs nearly unbearable — Lilia could feel every curl and divot and spasm you made inside of her. Nonetheless, you did not dare to thrust yet, having an inkling that if you disobeyed her, she would make sure you would pay dearly and would not allow your own climax whatsoever.

But none of it mattered, you did not care. You, and her, were nothing but hunger, aching to collapse into one. Her breath hitched, breasts rising and falling in desperate surrender, hips rolling like tides that knew no shore. Rings sank into your tender flesh, pressing, pleading, marking.

And she rode you slow — so unbearably, exquisitely slow, her rhythm a measured torture, each descent capturing your breath, each ascent leaving you needy and empty. You gasped, strangled on a whimper, fingers digging into her hips with shaking need, but she pressed a firm hand to your clavicle, her lips curving with warm intent that clashed with the wicked glint in her eye.

"Nuh-uh uh. Stay still, doll."

It was fucking agony. Limbs winding and tightening, body locked beneath her will, the fevered hunger wracking you unbearable. You could not thrust up, could not rut into the snug clasp of her, could not chase the brink of pleasure that lumbered like a sunburst just out of reach. You wanted to give more, wanted to implore her, whines and pleas poured from your glistened mouth as her walls devoured your girth and your hands were everywhere and anywhere, squeezing, kneading, pulling.

"Please—"

"You’re doing so good for me, you know that?" Her voice was low and quivering, leg coiling around your lower abdomen, every blissful tremble your body created being swallowed by her curves. Her question drew out whimpers of ‘yes’s into her skin, perspiring forehead shoved beneath her jawline. You clutched at her supple thighs, trying to burrow deeper into her when hips grounded full force onto yours.

Her lips kiss over the shell of your ear, fingertips tenderly stroking the dampened skin of your neck in hopes to ease your shaking and urges to move. "if you keep being a good girl, momma will let you move." Her voice filled with melted promise, patiently awaiting for you to open your eyes and look at her.

When you did, you were immediately pushing your mouth on hers. Tongue and teeth ravaged hers like it was the final thing you would ever do. Biting, slurping, kissing, exploring every nook and inch of her mouth until what was left of her mind hazed, until the air in her lungs was sucked and consumed by you. Until all she could do was feel the way you throbbed in her warmth, dark honey and fire, ripe nectar dripping down your length, tremors racketing the center of your back.

Finding the slightest of strength and clarity in yourself, you grasped it, letting it bolden your actions as your teeth scraped her lower lip. Moaning, she squeezed around your neck — loving how the band of your gifted necklace coiled around her knuckles, how she recognized your deep gulps and swallows while she pressed her ringed digits down the middle of your throat just a little bit more, not too much nor too faint, wanting to notice and experience each flex and breathy moan you would form, wanting to see the after-burned marks of her thick rings tainting your skin.

Dazed you were, captivated by the lingering musk of perspiration and sex, the essence of it branding your inflamed flesh and shriveled sheets. Your needs and desires sunk into the deep depths of her venereal oceans, begging to be combined with hers, and that was when she gave you her word.

“Move, baby, come on, move for me.”

You wasted no second in moving your hands to her ass for leverage, levitating your hips up to meet hers halfway, one that ejected the breath from her lungs, that crumbled her to the very marrow of her bones. "Fuck, y/n!" Her mouth tore from yours as every feeling she had ever experienced welled within her stomach to her chest, all at once, pushing her to her third climax.

She could not brace for the next thrust, could not form a coherent thought or string together a thorough breath. Only felt as you sunk into her deeply, again. And again. And again. Until her back curved so prettily like a bow drawn too tight, until she was gasping against you and she was nothing but liquified limbs and open-mouthed surrender.

You were moving so well, so inwardly, that she forgot how to properly kiss you. Her lips parted against yours, but she did not meet your desperate kiss. She only moaned, huffed, the tip of her tongue grazing yours; wet, messy, panting.

“A-am I—” Strangled were your words, broken gasps as your sweat-damp hair tickled her forehead, rocking into her with purpose. “being good for you, momma?”

Soft and uncertain your tone was in the way that made her hazily smile against your skin before she lowly moaned at feeling your fullness within her. The fingers of one hand gently pinched your chin up, the others abraded over the back of your shoulder and it made you shudder, scorch, searching for her approval. It fueled you more than anything, more than the pleasure, more than the way she clenched around you, like velvet, like a vice.

Her breath stumbled, shuddering with each thrust, dragging through the swollen heat of her, making her feel every thick inch. "You're doing better than good, baby,” she exhaled loudly, breasts arching into your wet cavern. "So, so amazing, so eager for me —" Hope twinkled your gaze, motivating you with punctured thrusts, groaning as soon as she tugged you back by the hair and dove into your mouth. Into you, the wild and endless incandescence between your flaring bodies.

“T—tell me more,” Your throat was hoarse, whining with another flex of your hips that hit her just right and made her mouth form a perfect ‘o’, your tongue swatting around the enticing lines forming. “Tell me more, Lilia, fuck, please, momma.”

There was earnestness in your voice; to hear and absorb, to be at service of every pure wish and filthy desire as if it was your soul purpose. But she fed that self pleasure of yours:

“You want more, darling?” she mused and collided harder against you in order to meet your motion halfway, clutch winding around your shoulders, watching faint and pretty blemishes bloom beneath the thick silver of her jewelry.

“Y-yes—”

Satisfied with your answer, she began to increase your pace and returned to her firmness. “You want to be momma’s good girl?”

“Yes—yes—yes, momma, please—”

Your whines were cut short as her hands came up to tangle in your hair, each individual strand wrapping around her knuckles, her fingertips until she had you tied in ways that felt so fucking perfect and overwhelming all in one tug and whisper: “Then give momma everything, baby. Come.”

Hitching one leg higher up your side, you waste no time in ravaging her until you feel your climax peaking, your frame shaking out of your own control. Nearly out of breath, hysterical trying to find rhythm in your movements from such an intense high after being edged for so long, from trying to focus on pleasing her.

“Good job, darling...” she crooned breathlessly while her sore hips rock against your bruised ones. The band churning in her abdomen twisted to its end over and over at the sound, the nasty feel of slick heat and her skin colliding on yours, fingers bruising and squeezing into the soft and meaty globes of her ass while your mouth moved lower and latched around her nipple.

One last shaky thrust knocked her out of reality and into a world where only the two of you existed. All she saw was her reflection in your blown-out gaze, and all you saw was her: her open and faint red lips, half-lidded chocolate irises, and tumble of silver locks. Your mind was clouded with images of Lilia, your Lilia. This orgasm, its fervency, was nothing similar to those in your past. It slithered through you and into her, coating every fiber and nerve in your beings. The shock of it made you numb to any other existing feeling. All you knew was this, all you wanted her to know, and to experience was the overpowering feeling of coming inside Lilia Calderu as she enveloped you wholly.

Her praises, sweet and gentle, danced in your ears in a melody only familiar to you, soft presses of her lips trickled sweetness upon your flushed cheeks. Digits, gentle as moonlight, traced the rise and fall of your breath, their touch outlining the swell of your breasts, sending a shiver of longing that ripples through you.

The warmth of her fingertips glided over your shoulders and tender forearms as if drawing forth the stars themselves, igniting the quiet spaces where weariness once lived.

“You did so well for me, love…” Your head was tucked into the dip that drew her shoulder and neck together, inhaling deeply. “Was it good? Did I… did you enjoy yourself?”

You hummed and kissed your way up her neck and jaw, to her cheek, and lastly, lovingly her lips. “Honestly, that was the best sex of my life, and I’m hoping now you know why Valentine’s means that much because .... holy fuck.”

A lovely smile illuminated her entire face, mirrored within the brown pools of her eyes, scrunched nose nudging over the bridge of your own. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lilia.”

Your own smile faltered at the feel of Lilia delivering a fluttering and squelching squeeze around you, lowly moaning as she hummed and regained that titillating spark in her eye. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

This day had opened Lilia’s mind to a string of new things about you, and she was beginning to learn a thing or so about herself as well, evident in how she allowed for you to shift positions with her now beneath you with a wide grin. It was only now, as she surrendered to your touch, she was beginning to wholly comprehend why exactly her lover adored Valentine’s Day so much, and maybe it did not exactly lose its full meaning.

#agatha all along #patti lupone #lilia calderu #marvel #agatha all along x reader #patti lupone x reader #lilia x reader #lilia calderu x fem!reader #lilia calderu agatha all along #lilia calderu x reader #𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── 🎐ᝰ.

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lokisprettygirl · 15 hours ago

Text

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 6 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 7

Summary : You can't help but obsess over Eric's past relationship with Melody.

Warning: 18+, Smut, more smut, dirty sexual thoughts, Description of self harm, dry humping, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

“Baby? Hi..Good morning. Miss you already and you're still next to me as we speak. Have to take off. Don't want you to worry. I'll come back sooner today. Call me whenever you need me. Enjoy your Sunday. Love, Eric :)

And oh..drew you last night after you slept, hope you like it. Kisses”

You smiled as you read the note before you slumped down into the pillow again. There was a sketch of you under the note, your hair a mess as you slept on his torso, using him like a pillow. He had the sweetest way of reminding you that he cared about you, he didn't often use his words. Didn't really have to.

It's been a week since you two had been together now, last week has been eventful to say the least. When Eric said he wanted to take things slow, he meant it, after that night he wasn't indulging you both with dry humping sesh, three nights ago he almost lost control, he wanted to fuck you and even though you said you were ready for it, he didn't think you were ready for it and whatever he said to you was the law, you just nodded your head like the good girl you wanted to be for him and agreed.

You were a grown woman but as soon as he had you in his arms and you saw those big green eyes looking at you, every inch of you crumbled under his gaze and you just wanted to be his baby.

You immediately grabbed your phone and typed a message for him.

“Miss you. Love you. Be safe. Come back soon. That's all ❤️”

You weren't blind to the fact that you were starting to write like him too.

As you sat up in bed you couldn't help but open his instagram profile again. This has been a thing with you in the past week. You wanted to stop but you couldn't.

This is what you really couldn't stop yourself from doing ever since you had found his profile that night.

He seemed so..happy in those pictures, all he had on his profile was a few pictures of him, one with this guy that you assumed was his dead friend Chance, and then most of them had her. Melody. Melody Banks, the famous singer.

How did they even meet? You checked the date on those photos and they were old, she wasn't even famous back then, he stopped posting suddenly like six years ago.

You remembered your birthday party and how he had left as soon as a song of hers played and it made complete sense now. He had a history with her but what kind?

Were they in a serious relationship? It didn't seem like a casual one at all, his captions for her were so sweet, he called her his melody, the love of his life and what not. But then what happened between them? Why weren't they together anymore? Was she one of the reasons he was so reclusive now? Or was she THE REASON?

You had plenty of questions but none of the answers unfortunately and you didn't want to ask him either because you knew he'd take this the wrong way and would probably try to push you away again, he had told you to not snoop into his past life but curiosity had killed you.

You were also very jealous of this woman now, a week ago you didn't really care if she even existed or not. A part of you wanted to go back to that state.

In the longer scheme of things 6 years weren't much but how come he looked exactly the same as he did now? His username was EricDraven90, you figured 90 was his birth year, so he was thirty five like he had told you but you didn't look the same as you did when you were 26 as compared to now, there were changes or maybe you were overthinking and it was the grainy quality of those photos that made him look that way.

He really needed a new hairstyle though, you thought.

Perhaps you needed to cut back on the obsession you had with his ex but you couldn't. When you looked her up you found out that she had struggled with drug addiction, just like Eric. Maybe that's how they met each other? You watched her interviews and she never mentioned knowing any Eric and that bothered you. Did they end up on bad terms? Whose fault was it?

You even typed their names together but nothing came up, his profile didn't have much following so you weren't surprised that her fans hadn't picked up on this.

She had been dating some famous actor now and you wondered how Eric felt about it or if he felt anything at all.

****

Eric was in the middle of slicing someone's throat when the stupid phone buzzed in his pocket, his mouth curved into a small smile as he knew the only person who could message him was you.

“Now stay like that until you bleed out slowly..maybe I'll see you in hell someday” he said as he got up, he felt no mercy for the monster beneath him, this ugly fucker had been trafficking children and dealing in child pornography for years now.

The horrors Eric was accustomed to would make anyone run for the asylum but he was used to it now, he had become a monster himself, just because he hurt bad people that didn't mean he wasn't committing a crime against nature by taking lives, but then the gods wanted him to play the god on earth so who he was to defy them?

He had no other purpose in life anymore, he had given up on the possibility of living a normal life long back but then you turned up and flipped it upside down.

He couldn't believe it still, every day he woke up now he just stared at your warm body being so close to him and he couldn't believe his luck. After Melody he didn't think he'd ever have a woman in his life again, he didn't want it either, at least that way he wasn't putting anyone in danger but you had broken all the walls he had put up around him with your incessant personality.

He could have pushed you away harder if he wanted to, he was definitely capable of such cruelty but he didn't want to, he couldn't go on forever knowing he had hurt you deliberately.

If you wanted to care for a moron like him he wouldn't stop you, he just dreaded to see the day you'd have enough of him and would turn your back on him because eventually he'd become too much to handle.

The constant nightmares, the usual run-ins with the law, the new enemies that he made everyday, the truth about Melody, his own death, his immortality, all of that made him so unlovable he wouldn't even be surprised if one morning you'd wake up and lose all the feelings you carried for him now but if he was doomed to suffer for eternity he might as well cherish these moments you were willing to spend with him.

He knew it would crush him when you'd get so sick of being around him but he hoped he wouldn't have to see that day anytime soon.

There was a water tap outside the illicit building so he managed to get rid of as much blood as he could from his face, especially when he knew you'd run to greet him as soon as you hear the loud thrumming noise of the elevator.

After cleaning himself up he took out his phone and read the message and it made him smile. He was excited to spend the day with you since you'd both be home now.

As expected the moment he reached the eleventh floor, he found you standing at the other side of the elevator like a puppy with your legs crossed and arms behind your back.

“What are you hiding?” He asked as he opened the grill so you shook your head.

“Nothing” you mumbled before you jumped into his arms to kiss him so he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your apartment.

As you kissed his forehead, he rejoiced the lingerie touch of your lips before he put you down on the couch and leaned down to kiss you.

“Let me shower then I'm all yours for today” he said to you so you nodded.

“Mmm okay”

As he stepped into the bathroom you made your way into the kitchen to make tea for him, he had been staying at your place alot, he found it homely. His words.

To make his life easier you had laundered the clothes he left at your place so he'd not have to go back to his apartment to grab his clothes.

He came out of your bedroom wearing his pants but his t-shirt was still in his hands.

“Did you wash them?” He said as he took a whiff of the fabric “smells fresh” you nodded in response so he shook his head before he put them on.

“You don't have to baby” he said as he placed his palms on the other side of the counter.. facing you.

He had a hard time being taken care of and you didn't blame him, he had been alone for so long, he was hyper independent and probably didn't want to get used to this.

“Just let me take care of you okay?” you said softly as you poured the tea in a cup so he smiled. God he had the cutest smile you had ever seen in your life.

“Want to help me workout?” he asked out of nowhere so you chuckled.

“Absolutely”

A few minutes later he was on the floor and he asked you to get on top of him..

“I thought you wanted to work out in a more traditional way” he chuckled as you said that.

“I definitely am..hold onto my wrists” you chuckled before you grabbed his wrists “legs straight out okay..don't drop them..keep your core braced” He said as he wrapped his big hands around your waist and lifted you up. A gasp escaped your lips as you found yourself levitating suddenly.

“You’re doing it like I weigh nothing” you said, making him chuckle, after what felt like forever he laid you back down on him so you got on your knees and caressed his temple before you kissed him softly. Immortality came with its perks like super strength and regeneration.

“Your core is very strong..good job” he praised you.

“Oh you should take my core for a ride” you answered him immediately and that made him laugh again.

“You have no respect for my gentlemanly behaviour with you, do you?”

“Its not my fault you're so hot”

His face flushed at the compliment, sure he had been called hot before but hearing it from the girl he adored so much made him feel very bashful.

He cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer to kiss you, his tongue slipped into your mouth for a moment, he just needed a taste of you to keep himself grounded. To remind himself that he was holding onto something precious and rare in this moment.

As he pulled away he tapped his palm over your cheek.

“Help me do pushups now”

And you did.

You sat on his back while he pumped those muscles, though you'd have preferred to stay underneath him while he did them.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, the questions and curiosity you had regarding Melody was eating you up more and more everyday. You couldn't stop staring at those pictures, he looked so happy, so completely in love. Did he even feel with you half of what he felt for her? Did he even look at you the same way? And worst of all you wondered if he still had feelings for her.

Later that night he at last had a nightmare again, he didn't want to have them in front of you, didn't want to appear so weak but it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Your eyes opened when he struggled and moaned in pain next to you.

“Eric?” You called out his name as you placed your palm on his shoulder, he was drenched in sweat, his fist clutching onto the sheets as he shook and mumbled something you couldn't really figure out.

“Baby?” You whispered again as you gently turned him on his back, that's when he opened his eyes, his body suddenly went limp, he couldn't move at all, his eyes rolled back and eyelids fluttered incessantly, that's when you realised that he was having a sleep paralysis.

You had them too at times so you knew, you leaned down and cupped his cheeks to make him look at you.

“You're safe, you're okay baby, just a nightmare okay?” You whispered softly, his eyes welled up as he looked at you, you pecked on his lips, your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, a moment later he breathed in deeply as his muscles awakened and finally got in sync with his brain. .

“There you go..you're safe baby.. i love you” as his tears rolled down you wiped them before they'd reach his ears, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you.

Turning on your side you pulled him into your chest to comfort him.

In the past six years he had suffered through them alone so when he felt your comforting embrace he felt as if he was having an out of body experience, it felt surreal to have you next to him right now, he couldn't believe how sweet and gentle you were being to him at the moment.

Melody. She loved him, she comforted him at times too, but not like this. It was never like this. He didn't want to compare her with you, that was cruel, it wasn't fair to her, she loved his pathetic self in her own ways and that was more than he had ever had in life but you? The way you treated him, it made him feel as if he was worthy of all this love, even if that feeling lasted merely for a second, he felt worthy of it

“I'm sorry i woke you up darling” his voice came out all muffled as he was squished in your chest.

“I'll make you truly sorry if you ever say sorry to me after a nightmare ever again” your words were threatening but the voice was as tender as he was used to.

He wasn't able to go back to sleep after that, he couldn't.

“Talk to me” you mumbled as he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

“I'm ruining your bedsheet, i should take a shower” he said as he looked at his body drenched in sweat but before he could get up and put that plan in motion you held onto his arm.

“You're not going anywhere okay?” he let out a chuckle at the tone of your voice.

“You're so bossy” he said as he turned his head to look at you so you placed your hand on his cheek and lifted your head up to kiss him before you climbed on top of him.

Placing your palms on either side of his head you stared at him so he gave you a small smile. He then placed his hands on your waist, fingers gently grazed over the exposed section of your lower back between your tank top and pyjamas.

“I don't want to talk about it” he said finally so you sighed.

“Mmm okay..what do you want to do?”

“I want you to sleep baby, you have to work tomorrow” he answered honestly, he despised waking you up like this.

“I'm too charged to go back to sleep” you said to him and his brows quirked up in response.

“Mmmhm?”

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”

“Jesus christ baby-” His brain short circuited at the words, he had been trying to stay in control for your sake but you were making it very difficult these days. He tried to keep his expressions neutral but his grip on your waist tightened, his voice a strangled rasp "You can't just say such things”

“I can..I find myself saying things I never thought I would. I should warn you though.. I'll suck at sucking it..i have never done it before”

He tried his hardest to not moan like a desperate whore but his eyes darkened just thinking about you doing that to him, his brain already fueling the image in his head.

“You don't have to babe”

“I want to”

You leaned down to kiss him before your lips trailed down from his jawline to his sternum, you left open mouthed kisses over his damped skin, tracing his tattoos with your tongue, tasting the salt from his skin.

God you felt like a whore for him, he made you want to do things guys had begged for before, begged and were denied, you never wanted to suck a man's cock before, it didn't arouse you, but this man beneath you? He didn't even have to ask for it, you were willing and desperate.

His mind was a storm of thoughts as he felt your lips on his skin, he was trying to remain in control but it was too much.

His chest rose up and down as you trailed your lips but when he felt your tongue on his skin, he finally let out the strangled moan he had been stifling.

As you reached the edge of his sweatpants you sat up and stared at his bulge so he propped himself up on his elbows.

“You don't have to do anything you're not ready for..we have all the time in the world baby” he said softly so you sighed. Men had tried to force you into this before and here he was asking you to not do it when you had already shown him how desperate you were for him.

“We do?” You asked him as you placed your hand on his cock, his breath hitched at the touch but he composed himself.

“You got me as long as you want me”

“Mmmhm? What if I want forever?”

You asked him, ever since you had seen those pictures and realised how happy he seemed in them, you had been afraid and insecure.

A part of you feared that if she ever comes back in his life and wants him back he'd leave you immediately. She was everything you were not or could ever dream of being.

“Too soon for you to be asking that” he said, his own insecurity was evident.

“Mmm i think you need to lie back down baby” Your hands were shaking as you pulled him out of his pants, you had never seen one before, you had never touched one before, not without the barrier of clothes at least. Sure you made out with your so called boyfriends but it never progressed because as soon as they touched you in that manner you stepped back, it didn't feel right.

You had seen porn though and his cock looked nothing like that, it seemed natural, he wasn't huge but he wasn't small either, the more you touched him the more he swelled in your palm and the more you watched him grow in your hold the more you realised that having that cock in your cunt was all you needed in life to feel sane.

You lowered down his pants and took it off completely, he aided you by pressing his hips up, you wanted him all bare for your view, wanted to gawk at those muscular thighs, you then slid down from his thighs to sit over his shin before you leaned down, the tip of his cock dribbled with precum so you rubbed your thumb over it before you sucked him in.

The loud groan from his throat was all the encouragement you needed to keep doing whatever you were doing.

His fingers curled into your hair as you sucked him deeper into your warm mouth, he never thought he'd ever see this day with you, he had planned to keep you at arm's length the moment he saw you but he had failed and how.

You were being very bold and confident for someone who had never done this before, none of you knew where this was coming from and none of you were complaining about it either.

He wanted to keep his eyes solely on you but you made it difficult, so difficult, his head rolled back every time you took him deeper into that mouth of yours.

“God you're so beautiful - I can't believe you'd let me destroy you like this”

He murmured, his voice raspy and husky. He wasn't going to last, he knew that. Well if this was your destruction you'd happily take it and revel in it.

And If this was how you planned to make him feel better after a nightmare then he wouldn't mind having them more often.

“Baby..I'm..gonna–”

The moment he felt your tongue running over his balls he crumbled down completely, a gasp escaped your mouth as his cum dribbled down and touched your lips, you didn't hesitate for a moment before licking it up from his balls to the source itself.

He tasted good, salty, creamy and savoury.

After cleaning him up with your mouth you sat up and stared at his beautifully long and large naked body splayed out on your bed, every muscle under his skin flexing and tout.

After wiping your lips you crawled up at him, he immediately had his hands wrapped around your neck as he pulled you closer to kiss those lips that had made him lose his mind just now. God those lips, he'd go to hell and back for this mouth of yours.

He wanted to return the favour but you denied, this wasn't about give and take, this wasn't transactional for you, besides pleasing him had pleased you enough, you took pride in your ability to make him cum like that, a man like him falling apart because of you was good for your ego..

You were officially sexy now.

“I'll be right back” you had to use the bathroom so he nodded but he didn't ease his hold on you until he had his fill of kisses.

He needed to go too so he sat up on the bed and waited for you to come out of the bathroom, that's when your phone buzzed on the side table so he picked it up.

“Baby.. you have a message from Dina, seems important” He yelled as he picked up your phone and opened the message. She had a drunken emergency and she needed you to go pick her up from some club because she couldn't find a cab.

“Coming right out” you yelled back so he was going to put your phone down on the table but then his fingers swiped to the left accidentally and he saw his own face staring back at him. His blood ran cold.

EricDraven90. That was the recently searched profile opened up on your Instagram. You snooped around in his messed up past when he had warned you to not do it.

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Note: What do you think he's going to do?

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97 @fandomxo00 @a-differentbrandof-beans

#eric draven x female reader #eric draven x reader #eric draven x reader smut #eric draven x reader fluff #eric draven x reader angst #slight au #bill skarsgard version

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letsgobarbs · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

Ooh thanks for the tag @probablyreadinsmut you wanna see my little hoard of words? you want a lil peek into my brain lab?

Here's a live of me cooking up my fanfictions this week:

But feeling very overachieving today because I finally posted another Chapter of His Young Wife (Marcus Acacius x Reader) last night.

And here's a little snippet from the new Homecoming (Dave York x Queer, Muslim!OC) chapter:

David Anthony York was wicked. He had to be. There was no other reason he had haunted her thoughts by day and her dreams by night. Maryam was taken by him since the first time she had seen him. He had looked up at her with the softest eyes the colour of molasses. Except, they hadn't been warm or sweet. His eyes reminded her of the dark pebbles down the riverbed smoothed over the years by a steady stream. Even with one eye covered under an eyepatch, they were so pretty that she was tempted to call them a gift that spoke of a gracious Creator. Tempted, but not convinced. She just couldn't trust eyes that told no stories, they didn't have the texture of tree bark, or specks of amber or black. His eyes had been a blank, even slate covered in a shiny, wet sheen that reflected the light but offered no noor, no real warmth or glow from within.

He had looked so lost and pained with the scrunch between his brows and the deep creases that ran along his forehead. But something about the weakness and vulnerability in his eyes had struck her all wrong. His puppy-dog, baby-cow eyes didn't distract her from the falsity in the way David York had held himself. His pursed lips and tight jaw heralded a brewing storm. It had been an anger and rage so all-consuming it took root in his bones simmering under a facade of trained stillness that belied a man who had ceased grappling with his morality, a man who had beat his own conscience back with a stick until it no longer whispered at the back of his mind. The man with the prettiest eyes set on the face of a killer.

Maryam knew the folly of giving any man an unearned chance to be close. But would it be unearned? Every action of his had gone against her first impression of him. He had been kind to Carol. Most other men in his place would have either trapped their wives in the marriage with guilt or threats, or raged against them for ‘ruining their lives’. But David had granted Carol her freedom through a smooth divorce, along with the house and an alimony. He had even stood up to Carol’s parents; he wouldn't allow them to meet their granddaughters if they couldn't accept their own daughter. He was a good father. She had held both Molly and Alice when they missed their daddy and had watched Carol struggle to fill his place in their lives. However, surely, it is best to err on the side of caution. She knew first-hand how monumentally stupid it would be to establish any sort of connection with a dangerous man.

You're being delusional, Maryam. There was no way that man was even thinking about her, let alone contemplating a connection. There was no connection. No spark. No heartbeat skips. No nothing. Men like him didn't want women like her— they lived in very different worlds. So, despite the futility, she was still thinking about the freckles on his right cheekbone, there had been four prominent ones forming a diamond shape and several lighter ones that trailed up towards his temple. It reminded her of the Little Dipper. Maryam was tempted to turn to her mother and request she pray and cleanse the house of bad vibes. Her daughter was likening a man’s freckles to constellations and that had to be a sign of Jinn or some spirits whispering these thoughts into her ear like the stories from home. She was bewitched.

Now, that suburban middle-aged man wouldn't know the first thing about black magic and influence. Maryam recited her verses anyway as she put on her shoes— partially out of habit, but to also ward off evil, protect against accidents and fate’s whimsy, and for mental fortitude and strength. She was going to see David York. Something about the way he had looked at her when she left his apartment made her worry. Molly and Alice are with him half of the weekdays and every other weekend, the custody arrangements were still being tinkered with to suit everyone involved. But Carol was taking the girls to stay with Theresa’s family for spring break.

Maryam had inquired about him with Carol, hoping to assuage some of that worry, only to learn he had recently lost friends. She hadn't wanted to pry further, it was weird to keep asking Carol about her ex-husband even if it was from a place of concern. She didn't want that concern to be misconstrued because that's all it will ever be. Nonetheless, she felt nauseous— not because she felt guilty for seeking out her friend’s ex-husband but because she was hiding it from her. This was the sort of thing you discussed with friends— perhaps not the freckles and doe eyes part, but certainly the worrying bit.

Maryam had been at a club to support a friend at their big DJ gig where she had met Carol. They had both felt out of place, and Maryam had bought her a drink. The night had been life-altering because Carol experienced her first kiss with a woman. Maryam had pressed Carol against the wall in a secluded corner of the club, their kiss had tasted of espresso martini and strawberry cheesecake. The experience had been wholly overwhelming because Carol had cried her sorrows into Maryam’s arms who had ensured she reached home safely to her kids and by the time they met for breakfast the next day, they were best friends.

For context: Carol thinks Dave is dead and this is her 'trying to move on' process that makes her sorta realise that she is a lesbian and she had been trying to conform to that husband and two kids lifestyle her conservative, god-believing parents expected of her. Carol dates Theresa now. And Dave isn't going to turn away a willing prey walking into his home out of concern for him— so stupid of Maryam really.

I'm also cooking up my Pero Tovar in the winter prompt for the writing through the seasons challenge organised by @guiltyasdave (Hope you're having lots of fun and relaxing on your bday trip <3) and @sizzlingcloudmentality

Do I have actual paragraphs for it? No :) But I have plot points and I have ideas, and I love my ideas, I think they're neat. It's going to be a reverse mail-order bride trope lmfao. Because I like a mail-order bride story. Pero thinks he was just interviewing for a servant post, he could figure his way around cooking and cleaning when he couldn't find another fighting gig. But he somehow ends up in one of those medieval rattling wooden prison transport carts with wooden bars and also somehow hired as a mail-order husband. Best believe the other girlies in that cart are giving him side-eyes.

share your stuff you guys lemme see what's cooking: @pedrospookie @slimybeth69 @galaxyedging @iknowisoundcrazy @joelslegalwhre @jessthebaker @pedroswife69 @joelswritingmistress @missyorkswhore @peepawispunk @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @everybodylovedcontractors and anybody else who wants to share <33

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #wip #dave york x oc #marcus acacius x reader

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suudonym · 11 months ago

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so by now everyone knows the returned-to-origin eyes: the sort of winged emblem that forms around the pupils of demons who give in to their evil cycles/wicked phases/insert your preferred translation choice here. we've seen them on atori during the heartbreaker,

on kiriwo during the deviculum (and possibly other instances, this is just the one I remember clearly enough to go straight to it),

and, interestingly, on gyari during the idol games.

however there's also another style of eyes we see occasionally, and given the shape it may just be a pre-RTO thing (takes the < > that constitutes the main wing shape) but given the contexts we see it happen in, so far it seems more like a giving-into-the-thrill-of-desire thing than a giving-into-an-evil-cycle thing. we've seen it just recently on silvia during the meeting with zeze's brother, when his talk about creating gets her fired up,

on sabro during his evil cycle-influenced fight with atori, as he starts to find real joy in the act of savagely inflicting pain,

and, my favorite example, on opera during the second-year re-summoning fiasco, when it becomes apparent that kalego is going to make it as much of a challenge as possible.

it does seem most likely that it's a on-the-very-cusp-of-RTO type thing, but I dunno. the fact that gyari has complete RTO eyes just for a moment but seems to be back to normal later and sabro has partial RTO eyes despite being in an actual evil cycle make it kinda hard to tell exactly what's going on. also the implication that tormenting kalego is so much fun that opera would literally return to origins for it is just hilarious to me

#was reminded of this because of today's chapter #long post #or more like image-heavy post I guess. which makes it long. so yeah long post #saydonym #mairimashita! iruma kun

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lunarharp · 1 year ago

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Very important conferences.

#witch hat tag #orufrey #some real serious discussions goin on in this atelier today. dont u doubt it.#agott is the only one who has ever thought about this because she is a 12 year old lesbian and UMM..FRIEND? LIKE FRIEND? IS THAT..LEGAL???#this is all i drew today because silly things like this take hours lol. at least it's practice for poses -_-#i got the pattern of the girls' dresses wrong but i couldn't be bothered to change halfway through.#don't worry if you're like what is the naakiwan downs. is that name even mentioned in the main manga #ANYWAY i KEEP thinking about what if it's actually banned for professors and watchful eyes to date like that would make a lot of sense.#like maybe it should be banned. SO??? are they just low-key Aware of what the deal is and they're just Putting their feelings aside #until graduation??? take my tassel as an unspoken reminder of how i feel?? living together trial period?? this feels like it's truly it #When we're free to be together........ Sensei loves homophobia parallels without there actually being homophobia #Let's invent reasons why men cant be together. Ummm well whatever. i'm screaming in my head but it's fine.#this will probably form the theme of my orufrey for a while. i've thought of this before but for some reason today it's big for me.#i guess the tassels might not specifically be a part of that since they exchanged them before tower of books #and qifrey made his mysterious decision to be a teacher after that and..well whatever. I need more of backstory and just..everything?#But i also don't mind when vinanna interrupts my wishes with just a chapter of just being really dreamy? I love witch hat?

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sskk-manifesto · 4 months ago

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(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

#Alright I got tragically interrupted while watching it but I'm finally finished watching the episode!!#It's really really good both the animation and drawings are very detailed compared to the rest of the anime but...#The pace is so off :((( Like it's not the end of the world but ugh. It's unfortunate...#So many things just don't hit off as deeply because everything is moving so fast all the time and there's no time to process anything.#They won't allow you one second for the last line of a scene to sink in that the next scene's ost is already playing.#And like it's not even the worst crime an anime can commit I guess but still...#I wish they didn't. Like rather than make a 13 episodes season and squeeze the Sky Casino arc in merely two episodes it would have been–#a lot better to finish the season at the previous episode and make 12 episodes out of everything (so that everything could be better paced)#Like yeah maybe it's not the best season ending that there can be but... It's not terrible either‚ you have Atsushi saying the line–#“there's still hope” and the season ending there‚ that's pretty cool #I don't know why everyone feels like they have to rush all the time.#Guys do I have to be the one to remind you you make more money if more season come out.#Like how can the knowledge of Sigma being made by the book have any kind of impact when we've only known him for ten minutes.#Teruko's looking mad AND looking cutesy AND blowing up the landing zone didn't have the same comedic effect they did in the manga because..#It just happened all together! There's no time to process anything. Or maybe I'm just slow idk but I mean YOU GOTTA–#MAKE TIME FOR THE OPENING AND ENDING IN THE EPISODE c'mon man #Sorry I'm complaining it's actually good. I really really love Teruko & Tachihara. Jouno too!!!#I liked the Tahihara spotlight this episode... It's so cute to see what he's like when he's not acting– well‚ not completely I guess #Mmmmhhh.#Yesterday I read an interesting post on how a lot of early dc/mk wouldn't work today because the technology of the world has changed SO muc #I think a similar reflection can be made for the doa terrorist plot. Countries are pushing towards a complete digital money transition.#In 50 years or so coins may not be circulating anymore and today already the impact of this terrorist plot would be a lot smaller–#compared to when the chapters were coming out. I think #Well. Nice episode! Forward to next week! If tomorrow's manga chapter hasn't killed me before that #random rambles

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darlingpoppet · 2 months ago

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Jumpscare when Etsy suddenly recommended me a suncatcher listing I guess because I had googled suncatchers like six months ago for Liminal Spaces… and so what did I do? I bought a suncatcher

#emica chat #liminal spaces (pza dreamers au)#I got one with aquamarine & iridescent gems because it reminded me of Pat in Elysium #I guess this is my cosmic reward for getting good progress done today with chapter 6

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aberooski · 1 year ago

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Every day I tell myself "all I have to do is make it through today" and I'm realizing that I don't know how I feel about the fact that I feel like I have to tell myself that every single day.

#a lot of times it's because I hate my job and I'm miserable #I literally cried in the car on the way home today because I got so stressed during my shift #never work at a movie theater kids it's awful #I wish I didn't #I wish I could have a real job because I fucking went to college I got my fucking dgree #and yet this was the best I could do because I've never had a job in my life so no one would give me the time of day #I feel humiliated every single day I walk into the building #I feel like such a failure and an embarrassment #and that's not to say everyone who works at the theatre ahould feel that way that's now what I'm saying #but that's how I personally feel about myself and the situation that I am in #and we're entering the busiest week of the year so it sucks even more than usual #but also I'm just so tired from this year it's been a really bad one for me and my family #just abysmal in every way #so I have to remind myself I have to make it through the day every day right now #but you know what it's fine I have a chapter done and ready to go on Christmas and it's been almlst 4 years in the making #so in that case I have a present for some of you and I'm really excited about it #it's gonna be a sad Christmas for us because everyone in my family is broke but I hope you guys all have a better holiday than I will #and as someone who adores Christmas like it's my favorite day of the year type adore I'm just really down in the dumps right now #just feeling very sad #but anyway sorry rant over I have to go to bed #I don't get saturday's off and those are my lingest shifts so 🙃#I get christmas eve and christmas ofd tough 😊#but not the day after 🙃#anyway bedtime for me sorry to rant guys #abby's self deprecation hour #abby after dark

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yueebby · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.”

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you.

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat.

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on.

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out.

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek.

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face.

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future.

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you.

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?”

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries.

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you.

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar.

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace.

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt.

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.” You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible.

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room.

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me?

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart.

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.”

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his.

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations.

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth.

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare.

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard.

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle.

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection.

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you.

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. ��What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment.

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest.

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade.

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps.

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

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screampied · 10 months ago

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‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,

ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.

an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy

girl, are you fucking stupid?

a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.

maybe you are fucking stupid,

spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.

you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?

it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.

you should probably not keep this yourself..

but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?

just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.

you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.

toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.

you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,

but all good things do come to an end, right?

reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..

< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >

Today 3:27 AM

hi toji.

u up?

• • •

Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?

lol no reason, i can’t sleep.

i miss u and i need to tell you smth

Oh?

Fuck I miss ya too, girl.

Come over then. you still got my location?

yeah be there in a bit xx

Read 3:29

locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.

it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.

damn.

the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.

at least not yet.. or ever,

you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.

the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.

once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”

“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”

“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”

work.

toji never did tell you what he does for a living.

your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”

“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”

“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.

playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”

right, that..

suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”

“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”

“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”

“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”

you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”

“eh. we’ll see.”

moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.

toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.

everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”

“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”

“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”

you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.

you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”

“do it then.”

he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”

“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”

“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.

occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.

the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”

you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.

“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.

it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.

more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.

“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”

toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.

no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.

“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”

“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.

continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”

you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.

you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.

“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.

toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”

“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.

it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.

to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.

“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.

he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”

oh, you’re about to lose it..

he was stalling, more talking and less eating.

instead, it should have been vice versa.

you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.

“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.

immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.

he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.

you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.

. . slow slow sluuuurps,

he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.

“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.

as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.

from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..

and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.

your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.

“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,

so . . amusing.

“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.

he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.

after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.

“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”

“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.

the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.

the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”

“but—”

“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.

with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.

so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”

but of course, you didn’t listen,

your body had other plans.

it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.

the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.

oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.

it’s speed..

it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,

you came.

“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”

suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.

you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.

“the fuck did i just tell you?”

“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.

slut..

god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—

“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”

“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.

you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.

“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.

rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.

you missed him.

in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.

he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.

but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.

“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.

“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.

you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.

toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.

he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,

every. single. time.

toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.

it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.

churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.

in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”

“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.

“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.

he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.

he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.

speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.

he was hitting you so deep, every angle.

so thorough,

his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”

“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.

toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”

“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.

toji fucking fushiguro for you.

he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.

toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.

you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,

indescribable.

he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,

stretch, mold, ply, repeat..

he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.

“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.

toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.

the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”

his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.

emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.

as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.

you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,

something more . . provocative.

your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.

he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.

broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..

beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.

you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.

“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”

“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”

toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.

you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.

you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”

“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”

as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.

you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.

violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,

it’s so abrupt, so intense..

you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.

he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.

swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.

the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.

toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”

“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.

oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.

a messy girl.

the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.

he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.

that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.

“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.

as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”

you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.

instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.

“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.

you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.

a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”

“let me go first.”

with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.

you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”

“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”

his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?

“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.

you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”

. . .

. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.

far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,

oh right.

home.

“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”

“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”

“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.

that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”

. .

happy spring fucking break.

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mamaflaire · 7 months ago

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Look at the goof

I coloured him :3 these are all the Ozzie's from my fanfics/AUs! I love him in every form, he's one of the most layered characters ever written!! I adore him!!! You can find my AUs on ao3!! <3

#mama flaire reblogs #I actually started reading A Study in Roja yesterday!#its so good oh my GOD #I am currently on chapter 14 #its such a good story and I love how you portray Thrax and Ozzy #I love how you keep to their original characters but with your own spin #I cannot wait to finish it #I'll probably finish it today #but I absolutely adore the way you write those two #with ozzy being a very competitive young adult who finds himself wanting to prove every adult who ever doubted him wrong #and Thrax is a professor by circumstance but seems to actually care about his students (especially Ozzy)#It also tackles a few very serious topics and I adore that #like the “Not All Viruses” thing #I love how it portrays people who are different than the rest trying to fight for the same rights as the rest and to not be misunderstood #to me I kind of took it like ex-criminals fighting to prove that they aren't a threat anymore #it reminded me of how my dad actually struggled to get jobs and such while I was growing up #and since I was his kid at school teachers would treat me differently #so I really related to and adored that aspect #because I related to how growing up I was treated differently because I was both hispanic and the kid of an ex-criminal #so thank you so much #osmosis jones #throzzy #digital art #ozzy and thrax #ozzy and drix #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #osmosis jones thrax #ozzy jones #ozzy x thrax

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navybrat817 · 6 months ago

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Give Me One More

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You don't need Bucky. He's going to prove you wrong. Over and over and over...

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: DUBCON to be safe, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, masturbation, established and slightly toxic relationship, pet names, possessive behavior, family drama, betrayal, threats (not against reader), loose backstory, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit mean, okay?).

A/N: I spoke about prisoner!Bucky ages back and I couldn't let this go. Especially not when I'm looking at that beautiful edit by the more beautiful @nixakimbo! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own (but thanks to @whisperlullaby for discussing this man with me!). Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You pushed the curtain aside to look out the bedroom window, the clouds dark and thick in the sky. Your home used to be your safe haven, a place of comfort, and all you wanted to do now was escape from your prison of sorts. Not the kind of place your boyfriend, Bucky, spent time in. The bars that kept you in couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

“Can't stay in there all day,” Bucky said from the hall, his deep voice reminding you that you weren't alone.

You’d never be alone again.

“Yes, I can,” you called back. You had been in your bedroom for well over an hour since you snapped at him and left him alone in the living room. If staying in there meant avoiding him, you were fine with that.

You half expected him to stomp down the hall, but he only said, “You’re being a fucking brat.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. “Leave me alone, asshole!” You shouted, feeling every bit like the brat he said you were.

You weren’t sure what set you off today. It could've been because you were still angry that Bucky used you. How long did it take for an empire to fall? In your case, six months.

Half a year ago, Bucky Barnes bumped into you at your favorite coffee shop. Literally. He was large, built like a powerhouse, but his grip that kept you from falling was so gentle. One look in his cerulean eyes and you were a goner. He easily charmed his way into your life and bed. He treated you like a princess, better than any boyfriend before, and you naively believed it was fate that brought you together.

You should’ve known it wasn't the beginning of a happy new chapter in your story. It was a clock winding down to your doom. More specifically, your father’s doom. Because Bucky wanted to destroy the man who helped land him in jail.

The White Wolf, a nickname for Bucky you recently learned about, wasn't a good man. Far from it and far from being a reformed criminal. He took it personally that your dad got him put behind bars for a short time. So he tore his life apart. Took his job away. Urged his friends to abandon or turn on him. Got him put in jail. Bucky even rubbed it in his face that he fucked his daughter. All in six months.

It would almost be impressive if you weren't the one living with the aftermath.

Had your dad known exactly who you were seeing, he may have tried to stop you.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

What Bucky didn't plan on was falling for you or so he said. You were, apparently, his chance at happiness. Because of that, he wouldn't let you go. And he expected you to just forgive him and move forward.

How could you forgive him?

He promised he’d hunt you down if you tried to leave him. You naturally tried and didn't get very far. The sick part was how much you enjoyed him chasing after you and bringing you back. After he fucked you where he found you.

As if he read your mind, he called out, “I know you're frustrated. Bet if you sit on my cock you'll feel better.”

Your cheeks flamed, your panties damp. Damn him for still arousing you with so little words. “Go fuck yourself.”

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He was right. You were frustrated and itching to get out of your own skin. Maybe if you got yourself off, you’d feel a little better. Not happy, but better.

“I don't need him,” you said.

That was what you told yourself as you stripped down and got on the bed. But as you ran your hands along your breasts, gasping as you moved one hand lower, it didn't feel right. The normal fire within you didn't burn. Didn't even a flicker. A raw ache instead outweighed the pleasure you tried to give yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

You heard Bucky’s dark chuckle from the doorway and made the mistake of looking his way. You weren't sure how long he'd been standing there, but his cock was free from the confines of his pants and he lost his shirt at some point, too. He didn't attempt to hide the array of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. Ones you traced with your fingers and tongue more times than you could count. Back when you weren't a pawn in his game.

But if you really were a pawn, why did he have your name tattooed over his chest?

“Looks like you need a hand,” he said, brushing back his long hair as his eyes moved along your body from head to toe.

You ignored your racing heart as you said through your teeth, “Go away.”

He tore your life apart like a tornado, leaving destruction where there was once calm and beauty. Instead of letting you pick up the pieces, he continued to wreck everything around you. He broke you, too, but you were also the only thing he put back together.

The smirk he gave you was one you used to adore. “What’s wrong, princess? Still mad at me?”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Yes, I’m fucking mad at you.”

“Still mad about the past? Or is it because you can't get out of your own head long enough to make yourself come?” He taunted, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Did you ever actually get yourself off before me? Or did you not know what an orgasm was until I gave you one?”

You watched with a lustful gaze as his hand moved up and down, your eyes not leaving the sight as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief. “I had plenty before you showed up,” you hissed, sliding a finger into your tight hole.

“You know, all you have to do is admit that I'm right: That I've ruined you and all you can think about is how good it feels when I'm fucking you. Admit it and I’ll get you off.”

Pushing another finger inside yourself, you refused to admit that he was telling the truth. Nothing felt as good as he did. And that was the problem, wasn't it? You shouldn't want or need him. Not after everything he had done to your family.

He groaned as he watched your fingers sink in. “You're so pathetic laying there. My pretty little slut wants to prove the impossible. Just wants to prove that she doesn't need me when we both know that's a fucking lie,” he grunted as his cock twitched, making you clench in want despite your anger at his words. “Better hurry up and say it. Otherwise I'm going to come all over you and you're going to be left begging to come and not get off at all.”

You whined as a tear fell from your eye. “You're an asshole. The lowest of the low.”

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along the tip, watching as your eyes followed the motion. “Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings and that's mean, princess. That isn't you. I'm the mean one in this relationship.”

Your fingers froze as you narrowed your eyes. “Relationship? Don't you mean your prisoner?”

Your breath caught in your throat when he smirked, something darker than before. “You think you're a prisoner? You have no fucking idea. I’ve been to prison. This is a fucking walk in the park,” he said, pouring more salt in the open wound when he added, “And your dad knows all about prison now, doesn't he?”

You choked on your next breath. “How dare-”

“Relationship, prisoner, my girl. You're still fucking mine,” he snarled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “And I'm still right. So just say it. Tell me you need my cock and I'll get you off. Fuck that pretty pussy so good you cry for me. Won't even make you apologize for repeatedly calling me an asshole.”

“I wish I never met you,” you blurted out.

Guilt churned in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. Why did you still care after what he did? Why did he matter to you? “You don't mean that,” he whispered before he blinked, ice in his gaze. “You’re just being a fucking brat.”

You let out a small scream of frustration when you removed your fingers and reached for your side drawer where you kept your vibrator. If Bucky was going to keep being an asshole who wouldn't get you off, your toy would. But he didn't let you get very far. Not when he was on you in a flash, throwing the toy far behind him and pinning your wrists above your head.

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours.

“Oh no, princess. You're so confident you can come without me then that must mean you don't need any help at all coming,” he smirked, gripping your wrists tighter as you squirmed beneath him. You didn't dare look down when his cock brushed against your skin. “It's cute that you think you're stronger than I am. That sexual frustration must really be fucking with your head. I can fix that.”

“You're fucking sick. I don't… I… I don't need you,” you said, not having to see your eyes to know your pupils were blown with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick bottom lip before your gaze settled on his, challenging. “You need me more than I need you. What was it you said? That I was the best pussy you ever had? And you’d be happy to keep your cock in me all day every day?”

“Just like my cock is the best you ever had.”

You opened your legs a bit more when he clenched his jaw. “And you don't want to finish on me. You want to be in me. If it were any other guy, he'd-”

He growled when he grabbed your chin. It was a reminder of just how strong he was and how he could hurt you if he wanted to. “There are no other guys. Do you fucking hear me?”

It was your turn to smirk. Bucky was a lot of things, but he never strayed. Not once. He would forever be faithful. “You sure about that? Maybe I can't relax right now, but if you won't fuck me I’m sure I can find someone who-”

He flipped you on your stomach and gripped the back of your neck before you could finish that statement. “If you think I wouldn’t kill any guy who touches you, you’re out of your fucking mind. Keep pushing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You bit back a moan at the gravel in his voice as you turned your head to the side, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. It was dangerous to poke the bear, but you were past the point of caring. Especially when fury looked beautiful on him. “What's wrong, Bucky? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?”

He leaned down, his breath harsh against your ear. “I prefer the taste of your pussy. Always so good for me. You wanna hear that I need you? Fine. I fucking need you,” he rasped, biting at your earlobe. “Happy?”

“And that you’re sorry?”

“For hurting you? Yes,” he whispered, nosing along your neck. “Never meant to hurt you.”

You shuddered, almost delirious from needing to come. And the fact that he admitted that he needed you. That he was sorry for hurting you. But you weren't ready to play nice. “I'll be happier when you finally decide to fuck me, but you're just a fucking asshole, aren't you?”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole.” He nipped your earlobe roughly again in retaliation before settling between your legs and teasingly brushing the tip of his cock along your folds. “And I'll fuck you when you say you need me, too.”

You tried to push back to take him in, but he kept a firm hold on your hips. You tried to wiggle out of it, but it only brought you frustration as you groaned. “If you're really going to make me say it, don't hold your breath. You can't threaten me, Bucky. You're all talk. And guess what?” You said, smiling sweetly. “I can find another guy to fuck me better than you can.”

You couldn’t see the thunderous look in his eyes, but you heard the low and menacing chuckle in his throat. It sent chills down your spine. Maybe you pushed too far this time, but you didn’t care. He deserved it and worse.

“You're trying to piss me off and I want you to remember that you pushed me to this,” he said more to himself than you before sheathing you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a cry at his sudden intrusion. “Hope you enjoy the bed since you won't even be able to walk out of this room.”

You stared at the wall, your eyes unseeing as Bucky tore you apart. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. The sound of his grunts from behind you filled your ears, along with the brutal slap of skin-on-skin. Your body burned, the overwhelming stretch from his cock making you lose sense of yourself. You told yourself he’d finish fucking you soon, but that felt like ages ago.

You also told yourself there was no way you’d have another orgasm, but he proved you wrong. Climax after climax, your release practically flooded around him. At this rate, you really wouldn't be able to get out of bed.

“Bucky,” you gasped, trying to grip the sheets for purchase as he pulled out and slammed back into you. “Please…”

You were boneless, exhausted, and he just kept going. “Oh, no, princess. You wanted to get off.”

Tears of ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, whimpering when you felt yourself on the cusp of another orgasm. How was that possible? How many had he given you? “Bucky, I…” you moaned as you clenched around his cock again.

He cooed, a taunting sound when you choked on a sob. “So good, but I want another.”

“I don't… ” Your eyes rolled back, your head spinning. “I can't.”

You’d seriously lost count at that point how many times you’d come. And your whimper didn't stop Bucky from mockingly cooing again. “Aww, you don't think you can? My poor little fuck doll can still talk which means she hasn't had enough yet. This pussy is so fucking wet for me, so swollen,” he taunted, reaching underneath you and flicking your overstimulated clit as a choked moan escaped you, your walls tightening around him once again. “See? Your greedy little cunt can't get enough of me.”

Why did your body need him so badly? “I can't…” you whined as he licked one of your tears away, seemingly unbothered by the sheen of sweat on your face.

“You think anyone else can do this? Work your body up like this over and over again?” He grunted against your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut at his harsh panting, his pace not slowing. “All you had to do was say that you need me. But no. You just had to be a fucking brat.”

You practically wailed as you teetered on the edge of another orgasm. “I-I need you. Just you, Bucky,” you said. At least, you thought you said it. You had a tough time stringing any thoughts together with his cock splitting you open.

But his thrusts don’t slow. They were just as relentless as before. “Oh, no. You had your chance to say it,” he snarled, leaning up to pull your hips back against his. “And my pussy is telling me all I need to know. So just lay there and give me another.”

The pleasure bordered on the edge of pain as a sob escaped. There was no possible way you could come again. As much as you thought you couldn’t take it, your body tensed. You still craved him and wanted to give him one more. So you did. You shattered. It was almost too easy that he managed to pull another orgasm from your pliable body.

Or maybe you were just easy for him.

Bucky smacked your ass hard enough to make you cry out, his hand kneading the flesh with a delighted groan. “Fuck, each one is better than the last, princess. You want me to fill you up huh? You wanna feel me dripping from you?” He chuckled darkly, finally slowing down as you let out another sob. He shushed you before he put a hand on the back of your neck and kept you down. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take it. Then, I'm gonna lick you clean until I'm satisfied.”

“No…”

He gave you one more smack for good measure when you made a sound of protest. “C'mon, princess. Beg for me to fill you up. If you can talk.”

You didn’t know if you could. You were practically a drooling mess as he drove in as deep as he can go. “Pl… Pl… Bu…” you tried to moan, another tear falling as he shushed you again.

“Got you cockdrunk, didn't I? Need to be pumped full? Then let me give you every. Fucking. Drop.”

A tired moan came out when he filled you up, giving a few slow thrusts as he finished. Your body trembled beneath him, a whiplash of chills and heat. You barely registered him pulling out before he flipped you onto your back. Glassy and unfocused eyes. Makeup smeared all your face. Tears stains on your cheeks. You must’ve looked quite the sight.

He relished in ruining you.

And the beautiful bastard didn’t even look like he broke a sweat.

“Should I call you a dog? You’re drooling, princess,” he smirked. You didn’t have it in you to argue as his eyes drifted down to your pussy. It was still twitching and leaking with your mixed release. He licked his lips as he slid down your body more to fully take in the sight. “And you look good enough to eat, so I think that's just what I'll do.”

“What…” you gasped. He couldn't. Not after all that.

You whimpered as you tried to push him away with a tired hand, but he grabbed your wrists with a tsk. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wasn't done with you and it's rude to keep a man from his meal.”

You were still floating from the multiple orgasms he gave you when he took his first lick. Your shivers picked up again and he groaned at your taste before diving in. Any strength you had to try to push him away depleted immediately, even with how sensitive your walls felt. You couldn't stop him.

You’d never be able to stop him.

After a minute, your eyes widened when you felt him build you up again. “No,” you moaned, but the sight of him between your legs, eating you like he was starving, was too much.

He just hummed against you. "Give. Me. One. More.”

Your back arched when his lips latched onto your clit, forcing the orgasm from your worn out body. You weren’t sure if you made a sound, but you trembled as your release went on for what seemed like forever. Bucky’s tongue lapped it all up, humming before he sat back and looked at your wrecked form again. He made a show of licking the shine from his lips and looked just as proud as ruining you with his tongue the way he did with his cock.

“If you ever try to threaten me with another man or refuse to admit you want me again, I'll make sure to tie you to this bed for a week and refuse to let you come even if you beg for it. And I shouldn’t have to mention what else I can do. Do you understand?”

You trembled, knowing exactly what Bucky was capable of. While he never laid a hand on you to inflict pain, you knew the damage he did to others. Like the bodies buried and cold in the ground because of him. Not to mention the connections he still had at the prison. All he had to do was say the word and that would be the true end of your dad.

With unfocused and teary eyes, you gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“Now tell me you love me and that you’re sorry,” he ordered.

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “…Love you. I’m sorry.”

His smile was tender and for a second you forgot about everything else. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, your heart betraying you like your body did when he kissed your lips. “And I love you, too.”

You whined as he left your line of sight, but he came back almost right away to sit beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Drink it, princess,” he urged, his voice gentler than before he helped you take a sip of water. He even smiled again when he wiped another tear of yours away. “We can go back to the way it was before, you know. When you were blissfully unaware and we just quickly fell in love.”

The pain in your heart came and went as your breathing evened. You wished you could go back to innocent movie nights and meals. To waking up beside him with a smile on your face. To making love so passionate that you believed you were made for each other. There was no changing anything or going back. You could only move forward with him by your side.

Bucky sighed when you didn't say anything. “I know I’m a piece of shit, but I won't stop loving you. And I think you learned your lesson.”

You blinked a little as you took another sip, on the verge of passing out.

“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, brushing the gentlest of kisses against the top of your head. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

So... I know he isn't all good, but I had fun writing this and I hope you lovelies enjoyed it! Would love to hear your thoughts and maybe I'll expand on this? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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halbarryislife · 24 days ago

Text

I just graduated college and took my capstone on propaganda. Not the just the history of it but also its evolution, how it works, and what makes the best propaganda.

With the ‘unbanning’ of tiktok and the inauguration being within a day of each other a lot of propaganda has been thrown at us. I want to share what is called “the ten rules of hate” from Matt Taibbi’s book “Hate: Inc: why today’s media makes us despise one another”, which was published in 2019.

To give some context for the ten rules, Taibbi says in this chapter (chapter two) regarding the news cycle, "after generations of doing the opposite, when unity and conformity were more profitable, now the primary product the news media sells is division."

But before I state the rules I just want to remind everyone PROPAGANDA OCCURS ON BOTH SIDES. Neither side is better than one another when it comes to propaganda, it is a necessity. I say this as a democrat who believes the next four years are going to be hell. Just today I saw propaganda from both sides, ironically fitting into these ten points.

THE TEN RULES OF HATE:

There are only two sides

The two sides are in permanent conflict

Hate people, not institutions

Everything is somebody else's fault

Nothing is everyone's faults

Root, don't think

No switching teams

The other side is literally Hitler

In the fight against Hitler, everything is permitted

Feel superior

What most people get wrong about propaganda is that its intention is not change your thought process immediately, no. The purpose of propaganda is to nudge you in a certain direction. Whether that be you seeing that trump unbanned tiktok and for a split moment you think 'maybe he isn't so bad' or seeing an instagram post from Path2Progress saying 'it's a dark day in America' and you get a tinge of fear.

I am making this post because I want you to be able to look at the media you are soaking up and be able to notice that people are trying to manipulate you. Of course, there are other points to propaganda that I did not get in here as I could write several papers on this subject, which I have.

And before anyone says in the comments, "but Trump is literally Hitler", I'm just going to point out that this cycle of calling people Hitler started long before Trump's presidency in 2016. Glenn Beck, who's a conservative commentator really began the "Your neighbor is literally Hitler" movement. In Taibbi's book he writes, "Beck was awesome at this. Al Gore was Hitler. Obama was constantly Hitler." I know must Democrats would not consider these men to be Hitler, but I use this example to demonstrate its use in years past on the other party.

I am going to leave you with a quote from one of the first books written about modern propaganda. It's called "Propaganda Techniques in the World War" and was written by Harold Laswell, then published in 1927.

“But by far the most potent role of propaganda is to mobilize the animosity of the community against the enemy, to maintain friendly relations with neutrals and allies, to arouse the neutrals against the enemy, and to break up the solid wall of the enemy.”

#Propaganda #donald trump #tiktok ban #trump administration #us politics #its alright to be afraid #its alright to feel happy #though i don't agree #just don't let yourself be controlled #think for yourself #i can write more if people are interested

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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 15 days ago

Text

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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