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#One Red Nose And A Wedding
gaypiratesandangels · 10 months
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was anybody ever gonna tell me they made a sequel to Four Weddings and a Funeral with a sapphic couple (Lily James and Alicia Vikander?!?!)
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yuujispinkhair · 7 months
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Heatwave
The hot weather triggers your heat unexpectedly, but your Alpha Sukuna takes good care of you.
Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x Omega!Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff, omegaverse Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, omegaverse, going into heat, oral, breeding, knotting, praise, biting. Reader is contemplating getting pregnant in the future. Reader and Sukuna are mates. Reader is on birth control but still goes into heat. This is a modern AU. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.
Part two of my Heatwave Summer Series
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It happens while you're at work. Suddenly, the air in your office feels too hot, almost suffocating. It's as if the heatwave that's holding the city in its chokehold those last few days is finally winning. But one look at the a/c tells you that it is still running at full power. You shouldn't feel so hot. Something is wrong. And it has nothing to do with the air conditioning in the SHRINE Group's fancy downtown office.
A strong wave of dizziness hits you, making you knock your coffee cup over, spilling its contents all over your desk. You curse and hastily get up to grab some paper tissues, only to clutch the desk tightly as a strong wave of nausea washes over you. You feel feverish, your pulse is fluttering. And then there is this throbbing. Your eyes widen.
You know these symptoms.
But it's not the right time! You cannot be in heat! Please, not now, not here at work! 
Usually, your heat cycle is under control, and you can plan ahead, take your heat-leave from work, and get comfortable at home in your nest.
But an unexpected heat throws you into chaos. You cannot stay here! You need...
You are out the door in a heartbeat, swaying on unsteady feet but making your way hastily down the hallway towards the large door of the CEO's office, where he is.
Your husband, your mate, your Alpha.
Sukuna.
You are instinctively drawn to him, your mind and body screaming to see him and throw yourself into his strong arms and let him take care of you.
His assistant, Uraume, says something to you, but you cannot make sense of their words. All you know right now is that something is very wrong and that the only one who can make it right again is Sukuna. Before Uraume can stop you, you have already yanked open the door to the CEO's office.
Sukuna is sitting at his luxurious desk, looking as flawless as ever. The only sign that he acknowledges the unusual temperatures is that he has removed his suit jacket and is now in his dark red dress shirt, but his black tie is still perfectly in place.
You gulp when you see how the shirt accentuates his broad figure, hugging his buff muscles deliciously, showing how impressive he is. Not just any Alpha. Sukuna is THE Alpha in this city. Powerful, dominant, attractive, and intelligent. Deadly towards his rivals but caring towards you.
He sits in his leather chair as if it were his throne, oozing confidence and power. Tall and muscular, pink hair styled perfectly, combed back over his undercut, filigree black tattoos decorating his beautiful face enticingly.
His chin rests on the back of his left hand, next to the glittering wedding ring that shows he belongs to you.
His beautiful maroon eyes snap to the door, with a dangerous glint in them upon getting disturbed. But that expression melts into a soft one when Sukuna sees who entered his office. He smirks and raises one eyebrow.
"Oh, darling. Did you miss me?"
But his teasing manner gets replaced by a worried expression when he sees the feverish state you are in.
Sukuna is by your side only a second later, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you against his broad chest. He is always so protective of his mate. You snuggle against him gratefully, pushing your nose against your Alpha's shirt, inhaling his comforting scent as you cling to him.
Sukuna's face presses lightly against the side of your neck, sniffing you, too. His breath brushes over your skin, and suddenly, Sukuna tenses up against you. His arms tighten their hold around you, and a low growl escapes his lips,
"You are in heat."
Before you even know what's happening, Sukuna has already grabbed his suit jacket from his chair and holds it out for you,
"Put this on, sweetheart. Let's get you home."
He gently puts the jacket over your shoulders, wrapping you in his scent while leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your neck. You almost sob in relief.
Sukuna's right hand comes to rest on the small of your back, and he gently but firmly steers you towards the door. You pass his assistant's desk, who hurries to get up, but Sukuna makes them stop with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Uraume, I will be out of the office for the rest of the day. Probably tomorrow, too. Please re-schedule all my appointments."
He keeps you in front of him while you walk down the hallway towards the elevator. The strong Alpha protecting his mate. Shielding your back, pressing his tall and muscular body against you.
No one would be crazy enough to dare approach Sukuna's omega, yet he never lets his guard down when it comes to you. The thought makes your heart ache with how much you love him.
There are some curious glances coming from some of your coworkers that you pass in the hallway, but Sukuna growls at them in a deadly calm voice,
"Get back to work. If I catch anyone so much as breathing in her scent, you are fired."
Your heart and your pussy throb for him.
You make it to the elevator and down to the underground parking space, where Sukuna helps you gently into his car.
You sound a bit hysterical when you say,
"I... I don't understand what is going on, Kuna. It's much too soon for my heat to start. And it feels... it feels different. Stronger somehow. It doesn't feel right!"
But Sukuna's voice is calm, velvety like a warm caress, instantly soothing your nerves,
"I have heard of cases where a sudden climate change triggered a heat. Maybe the current heatwave is to blame for this. Don't worry, my love. I am going to look after you."
He smiles his most charming smile at you. His large hand cups your cheek and caresses it lovingly, soothing you and reassuring you that things will be okay.
You smile at him gratefully,
"Thank you, Kuna. But you have that important meeting with the Infinity Group in an hour. I feel bad that I am keeping you from work..."
Sukuna huffs and shakes his head,
"It doesn't matter, darling. Uraume can re-schedule it. You will always be more important to me than work or anything else. I am your Alpha and your mate. I provide for you. I take care of you at all times. And now, lean back and try to relax while I drive us home so I can take proper care of you."
His beautiful maroon eyes glitter as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it tenderly while he fixes you with a gaze that holds so much fierceness and intensity that it leaves no room for doubt.
This is a command from your Alpha, and you will obey.
His words make something primal in you come alive. A soft moan escapes your lips, and your legs press together automatically as the all-too-familiar throbbing in your core flares up at your Alpha's words.
Yes, you need him to take proper care of you. You need him to breed you, to stuff you full of his Alpha cock and his hot seed.
You whine as you feel your slick coating your pussy lips, drenching your panties and probably the fine leather seat beneath you, too.
But you manage a nod and let out a long breath as you lean back in your seat and snuggle even deeper into Sukuna's suit jacket, burying your nose in the collar of it and breathing in your Alpha's scent deeply while Sukuna turns up the a/c and backs out of the parking space.
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The moment you step into your penthouse apartment, you feel relief wash over you. Yes, this feels right. This is where you are supposed to be today. Here in your home, in your nest, where everything is safe and smells like your mate.
You feel a sob finding its way out of your lips as you slump against the wall.
The cool air-conditioned air of the apartment should feel good on your skin. It should help you cool down again. But it doesn't. This form of heat cannot be tamed. You still need so much more.
Your legs press together involuntarily as you feel another violent throbbing between your thighs, even more intense than the last one. A deep craving so feral that it cannot be silenced. Your panties are wet with your slick. They stick to your swollen pussy uncomfortably.
Your body is preparing itself for your Alpha. Slicked-up cunt, wet and hot, ready to get mounted and stuffed full of a big knot and generous amounts of seed.
The thought alone is enough to make you tremble. You need your Alpha, your mate, your husband. You need Sukuna. You need his strong arms around you, need his soothing low voice, need the comfort of his buff body against you, his firm muscles under your hands, and the bliss of his knot deep inside your aching cunt.
You shudder with arousal when he steps up to you, caging you between his beefy body and the wall. His strong arms wrap around you, steadying you and enveloping you in your mate's familiar, intoxicating scent.
Sukuna smells of cherry blossoms and smoke and a warm, rich flavor that you associate with a deep red color, like love, passion, red wine and autumn leaves. Warm and sexy, comforting like home, and powerful like a wildfire burning down whole cities in its way.
He leans down to press his face against your neck, breathing you in deeply, finally allowing himself to let go now that you are in your shared home. A low growl escapes his mouth as his lips caress your skin.
"Fuck. Your scent drives me crazy. My sweet little omega needs me so bad."
You can only whine in response, helplessly getting swallowed by the primal instinct that always takes hold of you during your heat. You aren't in control anymore. From now on, it's raw instinct. The primal need to get bred.
Your hands cling to Sukuna's muscular back as you press yourself needily against your Alpha's tall, strong body. You can smell his need for you, the scent of his arousal so musky and thick and seductive that it makes your head spin. His hardness is pressing against you through his suit pants, cock already swelling for you, filling for his omega that needs to get mounted and stuffed full of a big Alpha cock.
It's how nature intended it. An omega in heat and a strong Alpha to take care of them.
And your Alpha is the strongest Alpha you ever encountered. Powerful and dominant like no other. So dedicated to providing for you, to take care of you.
Sukuna claims your lips with a heated and passionate kiss, pushing you against the wall, making you moan needily into his mouth as he licks into you with hungry, deep strokes of his tongue. But the kiss only lasts for a moment, and you whine at the loss of Sukuna's mouth on yours when he pulls away with one last open-mouthed flick of his tongue against yours.
You feel feverish with need as your Alpha drops to his knees in front of you. A sight that always leaves you breathless. To see this powerful man on his knees for you. On his knees for his mate, for his wife. He looks up at you with glimmering maroon eyes and that typical sexy smirk on his handsome face.
You exhale shakily, but it comes out as a growl as your instincts take over, your heat making you a victim of your body's most primal urge.
"A.. Alpha.. please...I need you...aah ah. Kuna..."
"I got you, darling. I'll take good care of you, my love."
Sukuna's voice is so low and sexy that it makes your pussy twitch with need, overflowing with your creamy slick. His large hands land on your thighs, steadying you, fixing you to the wall, strong fingers that leave bruises on their way, but it's what you need in those moments. Getting marked and claimed by your Alpha.
You shudder under his touch, your body instantly reacting to your Alpha's loving hands. A thin rivulet of slick is slowly running down your left thigh, feeling cold on your heated skin when the air-conditioned air lands on it.
But the chilly feeling gets replaced by the velvety warmth of Sukuna's tongue. He growls in the back of his throat while he catches your creamy slick with his tongue, slowly following the trail up your thigh, licking it off your skin, making you moan and tremble, almost coming undone.
Your hands reach out blindly to tangle in Sukuna's soft pink hair, tugging desperately on it, pulling him needily to where you need him the most. To that throbbing wild ache between your legs. But Sukuna is already one step ahead of you. His large, strong hands run up your thigh, slipping under your skirt and pushing it up to reveal your soaked-through panties to his intense gaze.
You whimper when you see the hunger in your Alpha's eyes. He desires you just as much as you desire him.
A second later, Sukuna's beautiful face is pressed against your drenched lace panties, his soft lips attached to your puffy clit, sucking it through the thin fabric. Your hips buck and a feral-sounding cry falls from your lips as your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud.
You push your wet heat needily against Sukuna's face, tugging on his hair, moaning his name so loud and desperately that you would be ashamed under other circumstances. But today, your most primal instincts have taken hold of you, and you cannot be bothered to care about how horny you sound.
A tearing sound is heard. Sukuna ripped your panties off you, exposing your soaked, puffy cunt to his hungry eyes, making both of you growl, filling the penthouse with your mating calls.
Sukuna pushes his nose between your pussy lips, making it rub over your sensitive, swollen clit, drawing another loud, needy moan from your lips.
You are hypnotized by the sight of your Alpha rubbing his pretty face against your pussy, smearing your cream over his gorgeous features, and watching you while he does so with desire and love clearly visible in his maroon eyes.
It's so messy. You are so messy, pussy overflowing with slick, clearly in a full-blown heat, luring your Alpha in with your scent, demanding his seed, his knot, his pups. It's pure primal need at this point. A state that leaves you a horny, needy mess every time.
Sukuna buries his face between your spread legs, growling lowly. Your head spins when you see him take a deep breath, inhaling your scent hungrily.
"You smell so good, darling. I'm going to breed you all night."
His voice is low, dripping with sex and arousal and dominance. His tongue flicks over your wet clit, making your legs give away. But Sukuna's hands hold you in their firm grip, pushing you against the wall and fixing you there as his tongue moves through your slicked-up folds, tasting you, drinking you. He pushes his long, hot tongue into you, eliciting a cry from you as your eager pussy twitches wildly around his muscle.
But it's not enough to satisfy the craving you feel. You need his cock. You need his hot seed filling you until you are so full of it that you are overflowing.
Your Alpha knows this, of course. Before you can beg him for more, Sukuna is already back on his feet again, towering over you so tall and big, growling in the back of his throat as he looks at you with a fire in his eyes and a massive bulge in his black slacks.
He swoops you up into his buff arms, making you whimper with need. You can't help but feel your pulse flutter at how small you feel in the arms of this huge Alpha. He is such a beast, so strong, so big. And he is so dedicated to fuck you right. To fuck your heat away.
"I'll take care of you, my sweet little omega-wife. Your Alpha's gonna take good care of you."
You nod feverishly, feeling the sweat run down your back and more slick coating your swollen pussy lips as Sukuna carries you princess style to the bedroom, one large hand slipping between your legs to play with your pussy, caressing it tenderly, fucking you slowly with this thick thumb, taking care of you until you can get his big Alpha cock to satisfy your need.
Your hands run over his muscular chest, needily clawing at his clothes in your desperation to feel your Alpha's skin on yours.
He smiles when he places you carefully on the King-sized bed. It is a display of power, proving just how powerful of an Alpha Sukuna is that he is able to stay in control even when his omega is in heat and exuding pheromones that make Sukuna's cock throb.
His touch is firm and sure when he undresses you, removing your clothes until you are completely naked, every inch of your skin brimming with need and lust, your needy cunt oozing slick onto the silk bedding, begging to get touched by your Alpha.
You feel feverish as you watch your husband get undressed, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing more and more of his tattoed skin and firm muscles.
He pushes down his slacks and black boxer briefs to reveal his Alpha cock to your hungry gaze, resting thick and strong against his taut abs. A fat vein is pulsating gorgeously on the underside, and two black rings are tattoed around the thick base to show Sukuna's status as a powerful Alpha. His cock stands rock-hard, leaking milky pre-cum. His balls are taut and round, heavy with his precious seed that contains the antidote to your ache.
A desperate sob escapes your lips. Your chest heaves with your excited breaths, almost hyperventilating in your need for Sukuna.
Your legs are already spread, and you pull them to your chest, instinctively presenting yourself to the powerful Alpha in front of you, presenting him your breedable cunt, wet and needy. Ready to get claimed by his fat cock.
Your breath hitches in your throat as Sukuna's glittering gaze lands on you, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips as he takes in your naked, willing body, so wild for him and his knot.
He slowly walks over to the bed, maroon eyes watching you hungrily. Like a predator stalking his prey, the big bad wolf who is about to take his victim. A very willing victim, though. His mate, with a scar in the shape of his canines on your neck, with a wedding band on your ring finger, with a wet cunt that aches for his knot.
He is your man. Your Alpha. There could never be another for you. You are Sukuna's for life.
You submit to him eagerly when he crawls over you, naked and muscular, with his buff muscles and black tattoos fully on display for your love-drunk eyes. So big and strong on top of you. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your whole world.
He smiles at you while his maroon eyes glimmer with that fire they always get when he is about to mount you and fuck your heat away.
His lips catch yours in a deep kiss, tongue licking sensually into your mouth, making your pussy twitch and your hands run needily up and down his broad, muscular back. His thick mushroom tip drips his hot pre-cum onto your belly, making you hiss into the kiss with need.
Sukuna flicks his tongue against yours once more before he pulls away to grin at you,
"Turn around, darling. On your stomach, like a good girl. I want to breed you right. You need me extra deep in you today, don't you, omega?"
But your mind is too blurry to answer him. It doesn't matter, though, because Sukuna is there to take control. To take care of you. His large, strong hands are already grabbing your hips and flipping you over on your stomach, so dominant, so strong, but so gentle and loving at the same time.
You keen into the silk pillow underneath your face that smells of your Alpha, lifting your ass needily for him, offering yourself to him, begging to get mated and knotted.
You are in good hands with Sukuna. In the best hands. He is the most powerful Alpha of this city, or maybe even of this whole country. And he fucks you like the natural leader that he is.
He pushes your thighs apart, lowering his beefy body on top of you, pressing you down into the mattress, offering the comfort of his heavy weight on top of you.
He rolls his hips against you, making his thick, wet cockhead slap your puffy clit several times before it catches on your slicked-up hole, making you writhe beneath him in your horny need to get taken by your Alpha.
You cry loudly into the pillow when Sukuna snaps his hips and buries his fat cock deep inside your needy cunt with one powerful thrust.
You orgasm the moment he is sheaved fully inside you, pussy twitching needily around him, slick gushing over him, welcoming him with the first orgasm of many, milking his fat cock wildly, begging for his fertile seed to fill you. Begging him to fuck his pups into you.
Your hands claw helplessly at the silk pillow as you try to get more of your man, lifting your ass and pressing against him, moaning and crying, face wet with tears while you sob and whine for his cock and his seed and his knot.
"More...please...Alpha...more...oh god...Sukuna!!"
But your Alpha is there for you, soothing you. Dominant and strong. Sukuna leans down to kiss your neck, resting even more of his weight on you. One of his large hands captures both your wrists in his firm grip and fixes them above your head, restraining you effortlessly, stopping your desperate movements.
You sob in relief, feeling so taken care of with your Alpha's buff body on top of you, restraining you, anchoring you on his cock.
The headboard of your bed thumps rhythmically against the wall as Sukuna fucks you into the mattress with deep, hard strokes of his big Alpha cock. He is so deep inside you, rutting into your needy, wet cunt with his powerful thrusts, mounting you hard and unrelentingly.
He knows exactly what his omega needs. Knows how to breed you the right way to fuck you through your heat.
His big Alpha cock makes you squeal and cry with lust as he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sukuna growls against your neck, low and sexy, making your head spin. He sounds so hot. So full of primal need, too.
Your cunt clenches greedily around his fat Alpha cock when you feel him cum for the first time, filling you with the first thick load of his hot seed. You're crying as you milk him eagerly, taking all his precious, fertile seed deep into you, your body so eager to carry his pups.
Sharp teeth graze over your skin, and then Sukuna bites your neck and marks you up again, right where he left his first mark on you when he mated you and made you his for life. His name falls from your lips in a needy moan.
Sukuna's hips move rhythmically, rutting into you with savage, deep thrusts. His cock is stroking all the right places inside you, and his heavy balls full of seed smack wetly against your pussy with every powerful thrust, loud and wet, spreading your slick everywhere. It's drooling out of your cunt and onto his balls, making a mess on his cock and the bed, getting fucked back into you with every hard snap of your Alpha's hips.
It drives you wild. You are lost in your heat, growling and whining for your strong Alpha to fuck all the madness away.
And Sukuna does just that. He always makes everything feel right again. He always takes all the chaos and turns it into something he has under control. So dominant, so strong. He is the master of your heat.
Sukuna fucks you for hours without any sign of weakness. His cock stays rock hard all the time, swollen and thick, so perfect for filling you and making you cum again and again until you are so exhausted that you tremble weakly under his muscular body. But you know you don't have to do anything. You have Sukuna to take care of you.
He gives you anything you need. His cock, his seed, his love.
His low, velvety voice is so sexy when he leans down to whisper in your ear while he humps your soaking wet pussy slowly,
"Yeah, like that, my sweet thing. Taking your Alpha's seed so well. You would carry my pups so well. You are such a good omega for me."
You whine loudly, trying to reply to him, but at this point, you are just a babbling mess, crying and sobbing, trying desperately to get even more of Sukuna, even though you are already stuffed to the hilt with his thick Alpha cock, your cunt overflowing with his hot cum.
But Sukuna knows what you need. Of course, he does. You don't have to tell him.
"Shhh. I know, sweetheart. I know. I got you. Relax, my love."
His voice is soothing, full of dominance and love, and you feel his soft, warm lips caress your neck tenderly right over your mating mark before they press a lingering kiss to it.
"I'll give you my knot. I'll give you all of me."
He bucks his hips, pushing his thick cock as deep into your slick cunt as possible, stuffing you with it, and pressing you down into the bed with his weight. And then you feel it. The stretch.
The swelling at the base of Sukuna's cock is growing steadily, stretching your pussy around his growing knot. He is so huge, so powerful, the Alpha of all Alphas, and that shows in his size.
You always struggle to take all of him, to take his massive knot. But you crave it tonight. You need it desperately. You need to be claimed fully by your Alpha. You need to be plugged with Sukuna's fat knot for hours, keeping all his hot seed inside your aching omega cunt that's begging for his pups.
Sukuna trails kisses over your neck, soothing you, helping you relax. He lets go of your wrists, so he can massage your puffy clit, helping you become loose for his huge knot.
"It's ok, my love. Just let go. I'm gonna knot you so good."
You whine, eyes rolling back in bliss when you feel his fat knot swell even more, filling you so completely. You're his. You're Sukuna's. You aren't going anywhere. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't run from him. He has you on his knot, and your whole body is covered by his buff, muscular body. It's perfect. It makes you feel so taken care of. So loved.
Sukuna groans, moaning your name softly, praising you for being such a good omega for him and letting him knot you. His large hands come up to cover the backs of your much smaller hands, interlacing his fingers with yours.
Hot tears of bliss run down your cheeks and into the silk pillow beneath you. You are surrounded by Sukuna. He is your whole world. He is all you know in those frantic moments of primal fucking. His big muscular body feels so perfect on top of you, his fat knot plugging your twitching cunt, keeping all his warm seed deep inside your aching cunt. His enticing, musky Alpha scent is everywhere, filling your nostrils, making your head spin from the love you feel for him.
This is the closest you can be to someone. Knotted by your Alpha. Completely giving yourself to him, submitting to him entirely, trusting him with everything. You sob Sukuna's name, your voice so full of love and devotion, mumbling incoherently as your head spins and your pussy throbs around his huge, swollen knot.
And he humps you slowly, as much as his fat knot allows. Slow, gentle thrusts that make his swollen cockhead rub your sweet spot, fucking you into a state of complete bliss. He growls praise into your ear every time you orgasm on his knot, telling you how good you are for him.
This is where you want to stay forever. Here in your bed, in your nest, where Sukuna mates you, fucks you, claims you over and over again. Where he cums in you over and over again, filling you with rope after rope of his hot seed while he growls your name and groans in your ear.
Your orgasms become more gentle with time, building up slowly only to make you cry in relief when they wash over you, so good, so intense that you feel like you are floating. You shudder around your Alpha's cock, whining his name and milking him with your convulsing pussy, taking all his thick loads of Alpha seed into your needy cunt.
It's dark by now. Only the moonlight and the city lights outside your window illuminate the bedroom, but you and Sukuna remain in your mating position. His thick Alpha cock and knot stuffing your omega cunt, your bodies pressing tightly against each other. Your movements grow slower, and loud growls and cries of pleasure turn into soft moans and whispered words of love. After a while, Sukuna rolls the two of you onto the side, pulling the blanket over you, getting more comfortable. But he keeps you on his cock and his knot all the time.
You sigh dreamily as Sukuna wraps you in his muscular arms, holding you tightly, kissing your neck while whispering the sweetest things to you. He is so good to you, so loving and sweet. Mating you, anchoring you, satisfying you for as long as you need.
You smile, almost delirious with happiness and love, feeling so full and taken care of.
"This is perfect. Please stay like this, Kuna. Don't go, please."
He laughs softly, sounding warm and full of love.
"I'm not going anywhere, my love. I am not leaving when my darling needs me so bad. I have all day and night to knot you and fill you with my seed. I love you, baby."
He cups your chin with one of his large hands and tilts your head back to capture your lips in a deep, hungry kiss while his Alpha cock pulses another load of hot cum into you. Sukuna's lips are soft against yours, his tongue stroking yours tenderly. Deep, passionate kisses that grow calmer eventually, turning into slow, sensual caresses.
You stay like that the whole night.
Sukuna lets you have his knot for hours. The sun is already rising again over the city, bathing the skyscrapers in its warm golden light, when the swell of Sukuna's knot slowly starts to subside.
He finally slips out of you, but not without kissing you tenderly, making sure you know he is still there for you. He's such a caring mate. Such a good Alpha.
You smile at Sukuna when he gets up from the bed. His warm maroon gaze meets yours, and he grins at you, making you marvel at how beautiful he is, with his buff muscles and filigree tattoos, with the soft expression on his gorgeous face, his half-hard cock still glistening from your slick and his seed while the sun rises behind him outside the floor to ceiling windows of your penthouse.
Sukuna picks up the shirt he abandoned on the floor yesterday and hands it to you.
"Here, sweetheart, something for your nest. Get cozy while I get breakfast for you."
You sigh happily as you snuggle into your bed, holding Sukuna's shirt tightly and inhaling his comforting scent. You feel so content, so calm, and so loved. Wrapped in your Alpha's scent, filled with his cum, and marked by his teeth. Just like it should be.
A wave of gratefulness washes over you. You are so lucky to have Sukuna as your mate, as your Alpha. He is so strong and caring, always loving and breeding you right.
You are on birth control, so his seed won't take. But you catch yourself thinking that maybe one day, you will have Sukuna's pups. Maybe soon, it'll be time to give this world a few more strong Alphas like him.
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AAAAHHH ALPHA SUKUNA DRIVES ME FERAL 💗😭 This story became much longer than intended. But I cannot be blamed. I am just a little omega, and naturally, Alpha Sukuna makes me lose control A LOT lmaooo.
I hope you enjoyed this story and that Alpha Sukuna could comfort you with his dominant and caring nature ;)
Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!
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gutsby · 1 month
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Trigger Tease
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Your honeymoon from hell takes you straight to a strip club south of Madripoor, where Bucky teaches you how to give a lap dance, shoot a gun, and kill a man all in one night—and maybe agree to have his baby, too.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Oral (m! & f!receiving). Sex in a sauna. Sex in a strip club. Praise & degradation. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Double homicide. Dickriding. Beefy, mob boss Bucky hates birth control and bad men—loves babies and killing HYDRA operatives for his wife.
Descriptions of violence throughout
Part of the Wedded Bliss series
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Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.
Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.
‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, but that was no matter. What counted now was making the shot, and getting it right.
You sincerely hoped you wouldn’t fuck this up.
It was no secret that the Barnes’ bloodline was steeped in dealing, stealing, gunslinging, and laundering cash. Staggering privilege, too. From the sandy shores of Curaçao to Luxembourg and Guinea-Bissau, any living heir to the dynasty could have expected to find safe refuge and respect just about anywhere that they went. It was all but engrained in their DNA at this point.
All that is to say, Bucky had no trouble finding a foreign hideaway in a pinch. He liked the Swiss Alps the best.
After your short and sweet conversation with ‘Joey’ over the phone—HYDRA hijacking the intercom system—he and Sam and Steve had made the split-second decision to reroute the plane to Zürich, and now you were here.
72 hours into a four-day ticking time bomb and totally clueless as to how you might stave off impending death, and mitigate other casualties, the best that you could.
The stress fucking with Bucky made it worth it, though.
In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing that day, you’d found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time lately: pinned against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.
“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.
You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.
“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”
This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.
The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.
“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.
After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.
Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.
“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”
You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?
“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.
“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.
In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure all the while. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was far better sustenance to him than the whole fucking meal he’d eaten that morning.
Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.
You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.
“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”
“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.
“Everything OK?”
“Uh-huh.”
More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.
“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.
Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.
He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.
“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”
“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”
Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.
“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”
You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.
“Another,” you choked, not thinking.
Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.
Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.
“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.
“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”
Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.
“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.
You opted to pull at his hair instead.
Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.
“I said how many?” he pressed again.
“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.
Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt at a rapid-fire pace. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.
“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”
“Bucky—”
“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”
Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.
He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.
Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.
“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”
But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.
Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.
“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”
You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”
“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”
“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.
Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over. Bucky soaked in your every sound, and the few tears that would inevitably spring to your eyes, like sweet nectar.
You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouth and his and pushed them past your parted lips.
“Suck,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”
You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.
That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.
He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.
“I need to fuck you now.”
Bucky’s words couldn’t have hung in the fog-infested air for more than a millisecond or two before he had you back in his arms and carried to the far end of the sauna.
At the door—or, rather, on it—with your back flush against the wood, you felt Bucky pin you in place with his hips and press his erection to that soft, cramped space between your bodies. You tightened your legs around his middle and sucked in a breath when you felt him pulse.
Then the head of his cock was circling that slick, taut ring of muscles like all hope for his future happiness lay there: right between your legs in the softest and sweetest recesses of your body he could reach. His eyes could’ve been engulfed in flames and still not betrayed a fraction of the smouldering desire that lay behind them now—he drank you in with a single look and sighed.
“Can I— do it, now?” The term ‘fucking’ swiftly lost all lustre when he was an inch from your heat and ready to press in; he just needed to be in you, a part of you, now.
“Yeah,” you breathed. You pressed your forehead to his.
Bucky ran his tip once more down your slit and had just begun to ease his hips forward when a moan snagged in his throat. He braced you firmer against the door, letting your arms drape over his shoulders, and was just about to slide his length inside of you, then—
Thump, thump, thump.
Three knocks in quick succession.
You jumped, the sudden raps reverberating up the door.
Bucky held you to him, tight, and planted a hand beside your head as if to hold the whole frame still. Then, through gritted teeth,
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Need you downstairs. Now.”
It was Sam.
“Can it wait?”
“No.”
Bucky frowned. Scratched the wood surface reflexively.
“Can it…wait?” he tried again, tone laden with a silent but pointed, ‘Is it urgent enough to drag me away from my wife when I’m less than an inch away from being seven inside her?’ Evidently, Sam got the gist, or was just keen to get him out, because he returned, quick:
“Yeah. Legal’s here.”
‘Shit’ was Bucky’s wordless expression below you.
Then a ‘Shit, shit, shit, just shoot me now’ kind of look that raised an eyebrow on your own frazzled face.
Wasn’t the arrival of Bucky’s legal team a good thing? He’d been agonizing for days, badgering Sam and Steve to no end over when they’d hear back from his retinue, and here they were. You couldn’t ask just yet, as your husband was lowering you to the floor and stepping back from the door, chest racked with a shuddering breath, but you wanted to know. You reached for a towel.
“Fine. Fuck. I’ll be right out.” As it was, Bucky had chosen to forgo the dry-off altogether and just started chucking clothes on his body, eyes roaming all over.
You turned from the sound of Sam’s retreating steps and found him moving fast, graceless—shoulders hunched, head bowed, pants wrestled almost angrily up his legs. He found his balance, barely, bracing his weight against the sink, then nearly tore the porcelain fixture off the wall with how hard he kicked it trying to get his left shoe on.
He muscled into his dress shirt and flushed bright red.
In a second, you had either side of the crisp white button-up between your hands, frowning.
“Any reason why we’re so upset?” you asked after a beat.
Bucky puffed a short breath over your head as you secured the first button. Then the next. Then the next.
“What? Apart from the fact I’m not balls deep and about to give you your fourth orgasm?” he grumbled.
You shot him a look.
“I mean it’s— not ideal, getting a visit at a time like this,” Bucky continued once he’d sufficiently contained half a smirk and could don a more serious look, “If we were getting any good news they would’ve just called.”
Hell, great news could’ve made it in an email. The whole aggregate of his legal team taking the trip from Brooklyn to Zürich meant that shit had most likely hit the fan in a big way. Bucky wasn’t thrilled to learn the ‘how’ just yet.
Instead, he cupped your cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb along its curve once you’d made it to the last button of his shirt. He started to lean in, hoping to delay the briefing downstairs with a quick diversion to your lips, but he stopped about an inch away from your face.
You’d lowered your touch, slipping it under the band of his boxers. He was still as hard as you’d felt him last.
Bucky let out a grunt when your fingertips grazed the soft tufts of hair adorning that part of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath when they sank even further.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said, voice dulcet and slow as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.
Again, a sound rumbled deep inside Bucky’s chest, and the thumb resting on your cheek stirred. In fact, it had no other choice—your head was starting to move.
Descending, slowly. Sinking to the floor in front of him. Positioning yourself right above the bulge in his pants.
Now Bucky’s palm was laying flat on your head, resting light as it ever had while you drew him even closer.
“Baby—”
“Yeah?” you hummed, just then tugging him out and bringing your mouth to the swollen, leaking head. Bucky gripped a good handful of your hair and rutted his hips without meaning to, and you smiled, “Can’t have my husband showing up hard as a rock to his meeting.”
You were right. There was no way Bucky was getting rid of this wood without the help of his hand or one of your holes. And, under any set of circumstances, he would’ve much preferred the latter to the former. He groaned when you took his tip to your lips and stroked him softly.
You made remarkably quick work of the man with just a minute or two, your mouth, your hand, and a tiny bit of spit—a record-breaking feat, Bucky had thought to himself with some embarrassment. But you weren’t concerned with his stamina in the slightest, focusing instead on the ways in which you might maximize his pleasure in the same way he’d done for you. Stretching your lips, loosening your jaw, and taking him down as far and as frequently as you could manage without gagging around him, you had him good. Deep. All but aching for release as he took a firm hold of the sink behind him.
“That’s a—fuck, that’s a good…fuckin’ girl.”
You bobbed your head once or twice more, flitting your gaze to his face, and felt the warmth unload in ropes—glazing your throat and every soft, square inch of your mouth as he did. Practically flooding your tongue with his cum. Bucky groaned and made a fist in your hair.
“Baby…shit,” came the sound of disbelief under his breath when you pulled off just enough to breathe.
You were careful how you took in air; flaring your nostrils the slightest bit, feeling a twitch at the corners of your lips as you tried not to smirk. Then, with an obscene sort of precision and purpose, you gave something else a try.
You stuck your tongue out at Bucky to show him the warm, oozing load he’d just left in your mouth.
Your husband’s response was immediate: evidently, he loved nothing more than a show of himself inside you, displayed like a prize between your two rows of teeth. You watched him grit his own to suppress a moan.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed. Still reeling from his high.
Then he paused, in awe for a second, before dropping one finger to your mouth and swirling his touch along the sticky, opaque puddle resting over your tongue.
You closed your lips around him, snug, and held his gaze.
A weaker man might have come undone. Bucky just let out a breath and smiled.
“If you wanna play show-and-tell with my cum I can find someplace to put that, doll,” he said, low as ever, then,
“C’mere.”
You didn’t need the powers of telepathy to understand what he’d meant. Should’ve known better than to dip your toe in the cumplay game with a man who arguably harbored the world’s biggest breeding kink and really wanted to knock you up. The realization had you back on your feet in an instant. Having swallowed fast, pried your lips off his digit with a pop, and licked the corners of your mouth, you rose without the threat of a second thought.
Your pale yellow dress was the first thing you grabbed—the first thing Bucky tried to yank off of your body when you’d slipped it up your legs and staggered backward.
“Not happening, Barnes,” you giggled, pretending not to see him advance when you stepped back.
But Bucky had never been big on civility in times like these. He lunged forward and nearly tore the barely-zipped frock off your frame, eliciting a shriek and another arch look from you as you started toward the door.
You were amazed you made it through—your husband had had to stop to tuck his dick back in his pants before stumbling after you—but when you took off down the hall, you knew it was only a matter of time before you heard his footsteps thundering fast after your own.
The tips of your toes had just barely grazed the first step down the stairs when hands seized your hips. You yelped.
“BUCKY!”
Whether on account of your own practiced agility, or the fact that Bucky’s palms were still sticky and slick with his sweat, you managed to wrest yourself out of his grip just long enough to get a start down the stairs.
“COME HERE!” Bucky boomed loud, trying his hardest not to laugh as he chased after you.
You screamed without meaning to. Yanked your wrist out of his reach when you’d made it to the bottom of the stairs and felt your husband close the distance in quick. You tried to be firm, insistent, primed with the kind of fine and unfuckwithable attitude that signaled you meant business. You didn’t, though—the series of giggles bubbling up in your chest said as much.
You descended the last step with a hitch, almost losing your shit within a foot of the landing, when Bucky scooped you up in his arms and held on tight. His lips were at your ear in a second, breaths coming in quick.
“Hell, I’ll give you one right here, honey,” he sneered before flipping you back around to face him.
He pressed you flush to the wrought iron railing, then over it, pushing you back bit-by-bit until you had no choice but to jump and latch your legs around his hips.
“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t—”
“Give you a baby right now?”
“—get off of me!” You were laughing now, squirming when he nipped at the space just below your ear.
One more second and he might’ve convinced you. Your Bucky was persuasive like that, too smug and self-assured for his own good but one hell of an advocate when he wanted to be. At length, he opened his mouth to take an even bigger, teasing bite, when a voice cut in,
“Barnes.”
He stopped. You froze. Together, you reluctantly turned your heads in the direction of the sound and found a keystone conference table situated at the far end of the room—seating a dozen-odd faces with identical, muted expressions of surprise. Mild discomfort, for some.
Wild discomfort for your mother and father, you saw.
Bucky set you down and simultaneously yanked the hem of your dress back into place. Flashed a smile for the ages and snaked an arm around your waist as he started to lead you over.
“Nat! Hi,” he tried, far too casual, “Long time no see.”
You bit the inside of your cheek hard and hoped like hell your husband had remembered to zip up his pants.
The woman at the head of the table—the source of the voice you’d heard—raised a brow. One cherry-red curl from her sleek, cropped bob threatened to fall out of place as she tilted her face to regard you both. The smile Bucky proffered had done nothing to repair her glare.
Some wordless exchange passed between the two of them, and next, you felt a hand directing you to a seat across the way—Steve. Smug as ever. Smirking just then.
The empty chair beside your mother. The horror.
You were dimly aware of some introductions being made on your behalf and a round of awkward, disjointed congratulations around the table. Greetings from Nat, Sam, Steve—conceited little shit—a few you knew as Bucky’s groomsmen, a couple members of the security detail, and several more friendly, unfamiliar faces, including a smartly dressed blond named Sharon. Your husband had taken a seat by the latter at the end of the table.
“Momma.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to whisper when the attention had turned back to Natasha and other matters, but you did, “Where have you been?”
Your mother and father were perched in their chairs like prisoners. There were no shackles to be seen but an air of discomfiture and compulsion bound to their every feature. You couldn’t be sure if it was humiliation on your behalf—they had just witnessed their son-in-law promise to put a baby in you for all present to hear—or something more.
For once in your life, you hoped it was just the prudish, sex-averse tendencies of the two rendering them silent.
You tried your mother again when she hadn’t responded.
“Momma.”
“Now is not the time.”
Her voice was clipped. Abrasive.
You knew better than to test that tone another time. You sank back in your seat and let your gaze roam the table, flitting between your father and Bucky a few more times than it probably should have. Surely, your dad, who had screwed Bucky over to hell and back, obliterated your wedding, and jeopardized your lives for a few more million in his pocket would have warranted some sidelong, hateful look from your husband. A glance or a stare, certainly something to show that he knew, and hadn’t forgotten.
No—Bucky was occupied with Sharon at the moment.
You watched your father twist his signet ring on his pinky, jerking the gold back and forth as if hoping for it to break, or save him. He didn’t look at Bucky, either.
“Natasha Romanoff is the Barnes’ retained legal talent for all things maritime crime and narcotics trade-related. Some estate planning, too,” a voice rumbled beside you.
You made a low ‘Hm’ to feign understanding of whatever the fuck Steve had just said, and nodded.
Then, when your eyes wandered left again,
“Sharon Carter, criminal liaison and kingpin informant. Been in bed with the Barnes’ as long as I can remember.”
He really couldn’t have used a worse string of words if he had tried. You cocked your head just slightly and stared at the pair. You considered holding your tongue.
“And she’s been in bed with Bucky how often before?” You’d decided against self-restraint for the time being.
Steve blinked a little harder.
“What do y—”
“I’m not asking if, but when, they fucked,” you interrupted.
Steve blinked again, as if to clear a string of cobwebs from his eyes, and couldn’t quite find the words to answer your question. Either the truth or some half-baked crock of bullshit—there was no in between.
“Once,” he answered, at length. Honest.
You figured as much.
In any other situation where you were faced with one of Bucky’s former fuckbuddies, you probably would’ve felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Might’ve even cast a dark look in the girl’s direction and willed her not to even breathe the same air as him. Then you remembered you weren’t fourteen years old and could behave with some modicum of maturity when it came to some old flame of your husband. They weren’t even sitting that close.
You winced when Bucky gave her shoulder a playful squeeze, though. That facial tic you couldn’t control.
“So to recap,” Natasha announced, having just plodded through a few dull formalities up front, “Barnes got the intercom call from Schröder at 1500 hours, Friday.”
Every head nodded.
“Schröder gave Barnes exactly ninety-six hours to recover the $90 million lost in the…mishap, in Brooklyn—” Natasha’s eyes flickered to your father no longer than a second, “—and today is Monday. We have twenty-four hours to come up with the funds, or face the…penalties of Schröder’s exploding offer. Whatever those may be.”
You knew what ‘those’ were. Ms. Romanoff was either too kind or too diplomatic to say it, you reckoned, but the threat Joey Schröder had made to Bucky had been patently clear: procure the cash or your wife’s family dies.
That was why you’d been so surprised to see your mother and father seated at the table that morning—Schröder had further stipulated that there was to be no contact between you and your parents in the time it took to come up with the money. You’d been completely cut off, in the Alps, since the day of the attack, left to wonder without reprieve whether HYDRA’s bloodless henchmen had taken hostages of your parents, let them abscond to Brooklyn, or simply killed them both and sent the rest of you all on a wild goose chase to get hold of the money.
Now if they’d only had sex once, why was she looking at him like that?—The intruding thought couldn’t be helped when you peered over again—Surely the most platonic and professional working relationships didn’t call for looks like that.
Shut the fuck up. Shut the entire fuck up, please.
The lives of those closest to you were on the line and all you could think now was how well you compared to this random woman in giving Bucky head? Brain fucking rot.
You scrunched your nose and turned back to Natasha.
“…and up until this morning, Schröder’s whereabouts were unknown,” she continued, careful as she spoke.
It seemed that part had caught Bucky’s attention, too, because he was tilting his head away from Sharon and shifting his gaze to the woman at the head of the table.
“And now?” he cut in.
“I’m getting there, James.”
Sharon smiled a little at that, tracing her nail on the notepad in front of her. She muttered something to Bucky, who disregarded her remark entirely.
“Do we know where Schröder is?” he barked.
Across the table, Sam shifted in his seat. He glanced to Natasha, then Sharon.
“I believe we have modestly reliable intel—” he began, only to have his speech mowed over by an impatient, increasingly irate Bucky.
“No. No— we don’t do ‘modestly reliable’ for this, Sam. We either know where the fuck the guy is or we don’t.”
That last fragment seemed to hang in the air a couple seconds longer than needed, and a tense silence fell over the table. It took a new voice—one you hadn’t heard much at all yourself—to reignite the conversation.
“I know it,” Sharon said, “I know he’s in Madripoor.”
Madripoor? The make-believe safe haven for terrorists? You couldn’t tell if she was kidding at first. Then Bucky flitted a look to the side, and his expression was grave. Natasha’s, too. Maybe there was a Madripoor after all.
“Or he will be there, most likely, tomorrow night,” Steve interjected. The hands that had been folded neatly in front of him were now tapping a light and mindless beat on the table, “He’s got the Foxy Den rented out for a…thing.”
Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Where else but a titty bar would Joey host his ‘things’?” he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
So Madripoor was real, and it had strip clubs. Wonderful.
It seemed Natasha was keen to regain control of the conversation, because she presently broke in,
“Keep in mind that time is of the essence—a private flight from here to the Indonesian archipelago is sixteen hours minimum. We most likely can’t afford to fly private, b—”
“Since when the fuck can’t I afford to fly private?” Bucky spat.
You hated how short and plainly nasty he was being to all those around him. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought these folks were at fault somehow, but they weren’t. Your father, the real culprit, was sitting right under Bucky’s nose, and he wouldn’t even look in his general direction. Your husband flared his nostrils with a new surge of indignation, and Sharon patted his hand.
“She’s not talking finances, bub,” the blond started, “She’s saying your jet is on a no-fly list, we don’t have time to charter a new plane, and there’s a hefty fucking bounty on your head if you ever set foot in Madripoor. We need to get you on a commercial flight, undercover.”
“Fuck that.” Bucky’s response was reflexive. He rose fast.
If your parents could have appeared any more stiff and uncomfortable you might have mistaken them for two charming, thoroughly terrified wax figures. Your father continued to fiddle with his ring as he watched Bucky.
Natasha tensed as well. As soon as Bucky was up on his feet, pacing around at the end of the table, she was urging him to relax, Buck, this isn’t anything we haven’t done before—sit down, please. Bucky didn’t sit, and he most certainly didn’t relax, but he did kick a stool across the room.
“I am not going back to that shithole.”
The stool tumbled onto its side, one leg splintered in half. You made a mental note to look into some anger management classes. Your parents, along with most of the table, flinched at the crashing sound, while your husband stood, supremely agitated, and did not even regard the broken chair. He turned away from Natasha.
“Yeah, well, that ‘shithole’ is our only hope of getting Schröder behind bars and you out of custody, Bucky,” Natasha called as he started to pace away.
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Bucky tilted his head to the side. He contemplated snagging a bottle of Macallan 25 off the bar cart by the window but decided against it.
“Have you been listening to a word of what I’ve said all weekend?” Natasha returned, almost as biting, “Turned on MSNBC or CNN or any other news outlet in the last forty-eighty hours?”
She dropped her own notepad on the table and scanned the area in search of something else. Sam and Steve took that as their opportunity to jump in.
“Bucky,” Sam started, calmly, “There were over a dozen foreign attachés and two heads of State at your wedding, half of whom are now being hospitalized for injuries they sustained in the attack.”
“So?” Bucky snapped.
His eyes were already trailing back to the cart.
“So you think the U.N. Security Council was just gonna let that slide?”
“Two-thirds of its members have been up in arms, practically chomping at the bit to get someone pinned for the fucking thing—that leaves you or Schröder on the chopping block,” Steve chimed in.
“So one more federal probe. What’s the big deal?” Bucky hardly realized he’d taken a tumbler in his hands.
Just as he’d turned to pour himself a drink, guided more by bare muscle memory than anything else, Natasha raised a manila folder—the item she’d been looking for. He’d filled his glass half full when the folder was flung his way like a frisbee. He narrowly saved himself a papercut—or ten—by ducking his head, almost spilling his drink.
“The fuck, Nat?!” he bellowed.
“Extradition, Bucky. Search warrants for your Brooklyn residence, all your money service businesses up the Eastern Seaboard, and a whole hell of a lot of other financial records that we do not need dredged up in this mess.” Natasha pointed to the folder on the floor, which had just spilled a litany of documents at his feet.
“Let them.” Bucky wasn’t fazed by the warrants, walking over them as he drank, “I’m not going to Madripoor."
This time, it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes as she swiveled in her chair to face Bucky. She was turned from you now, but you could almost smell the smug, knowing look she raked over your husband as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back.
"We don't have time for this," she said, coolly, "If you have any hopes of getting the Counter-Terrorism Committee off your ass and Schröder in custody, you'll listen to Nat."
Bucky paused, weighing her words in his mind before meeting her gaze again. He brought his glass to his lips and drained it.
Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by the idea that she was the only one to have shut Bucky up—to have made him listen, as it were—Sharon piped up again. You didn't need to see her face to know for certain there was a smirk etched across it,
"Don't look so glum, honey. We have no choice here."
It startled every last soul at that table, yourself included and Sharon especially, when the cup in Bucky's hand sailed across the room and shattered on the edge of a cabinet close by. Before the glass had so much as splintered and scattered half of its jagged shards along the floor, your husband was stalking, then stopping, then looming over Sharon with an implacably dour look. And a jaw set tight as you'd ever seen it.
"My choice," he seethed, so low the words almost came out in a murmur, "is to protect my wife. Whatever you, or Natasha, or anyone else has in mind comes second to that. Do you understand?"
Sharon nodded that she did.
A hushed silence fell over the room once more, only now its duration was greater, and the cause of it—your red-faced, fuming husband—had turned his back to the group and was retrieving from the bar cart another glass. Another drink. Natasha followed his path with a vigilant eye.
"Bucky," she said.
Bucky didn't answer. Filled his new glass to the brim.
"Bucky," Natasha tried with a little more volume and vigor.
Your husband lifted the cup to his mouth and started to guzzle, against every shrill and helpless plea from his liver, you guessed. You wanted to object, to take leave of your seat as quick as you could and knock the thing out of his hand before he could finish, but Natasha had you beat—not with any physical act but a word to slow him down: "Barnes."
Then, a few more to get him to stop entirely:
"Look. Over there."
She pointed to a slip of paper somewhere at the top of the shuffle.
Bucky shifted his gaze to the floor. You saw him lick both corners of his mouth, bathed in whiskey residuum and a light, nascent spatter of stubble. He looked almost menacing in spite of the grin that kicked up.
"What's this?" he murmured.
"The terms of Schröder's newest offer. The one he made this morning."
Bucky's second glass was discarded in an instant.
He dropped to his knees, seized the paper in his hands and pored over the bare, 11-point Times New Roman typeface like it was the single most precious set of words in the world to him. There were several mountains of text, and you sensed he couldn't begin to under the legal jargon with just one cursory look.
"What? What's'it mean?" Bucky wouldn't tear his gaze away, even as he shouted to Natasha.
Your own eyes probably should've been fixed on Bucky, or in your lap, or out the window, reflecting in silence on what the fuck could be going on and why it felt as though things were suddenly coming to a perilous head. Instead, you pivoted to Natasha. Her face was tilted to you.
Then she spoke to Bucky, still crouched on the floor a few feet away from her, but she kept her focus on you. She spoke carefully.
"Schröder won't take the money, Bucky."
"What?"
Bucky's gaze combed over the page, desperate to make sense of what was printed in front of him—"The hell's this all mean, Nat, tell me what it means and what he wants, for fuck's sake."—and he flipped the document. Read some more. His eyes flitted from line to line in a full-blown terror.
Then the eyes stopped in one spot.
Bucky stood.
Fisting the letter in one hand and making a wild, inarticulate gesture with the other, he probably could've seared a hole in Natasha's head with the force of his stare. She refused to meet it.
"This is a joke, isn't it?"
All of a sudden, your father leaned over your mother to you,
"We can make it work. We can keep you—"
"Hey. Don't talk to her. Don't fuckin' look at her. Is this—"
"—safe. We'll keep you safe, darling, I swear."
"—some kind of sick fucking joke?!"
You stared at your dad in disbelief. Bewilderment. Then you chanced a look at Bucky, who had all but gone blue in the face as he approached your father from the opposite end of the table, letter still crushed in his hand.
Your father averted his gaze.
He knew.
You saw him flick the gold signet on his pinky once more, and for reasons you didn't yet understand yourself, you couldn't look away from it, or him.
Surely this scared-shitless son of a bitch could speak to you now. He'd have to. There was no way he wouldn't when the problem was staring him right in the face and his son-in-law was practically apoplectic with rage in front of him.
Something clicked in Bucky's brain.
He knew.
Your husband’s breath caught with the full weight of the realization, and he blinked. He didn’t hesitate; he simply sidestepped Sam and Steve—who had stood as soon as they saw the look of understanding cross over his face—and he seized your father. You heard a scream, most likely from your mother, and you saw Bucky swing, but the act barely registered as real until his fist first cracked against your dad’s skull. Again. And again. And again.
Somewhere in the raucous din and sounds of punches, kicks, and muffled groans, a discharge of blood, and the dim recognition that some of the stuff was dousing you, too, you managed to make out several words, disjointed:
“—FUCKING KILL YOU—SOLD HER—SOLD HER?!”
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Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.
Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.
‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, it was true, but it was an alter-ego he’d been given from his earliest days as a made man. A caricature of himself that was to represent everything he did and was capable of doing in places like Madripoor.
You didn’t know that side. You didn’t like that side.
It was Bucky, and it wasn’t—pummeling your father’s face in the ground after learning that he had offered you up, again, in satisfaction of a debt. Sparing no feelings when he spoke to Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sharon, or anyone, making clear his wife’s safety was paramount.
Maybe you were meant to feel proud. Or flattered. Or safe. But oddly, the longer you’d stared at the bloodied, bruised fist he held above your father’s face and the half-deranged look of anger on his own, the more you began to wonder if the fury was for your protection, or simply a knee-jerk response to the thought of losing a possession. A mere object that he couldn’t bear to part ways with.
You had thought long and hard about where the Soldier stopped and Bucky began. No matter where you landed, you were far from comfortable with the conclusion.
Now, even as you stood two feet away from the man in an upper-level lounge of the Foxy Den, roughly half a day removed from the whirlwind turn of events that almost sent your father to hospital, you hardly knew what to say.
“Zip me up?”
The closest thing you’d had to conversation in hours. Bucky obliged.
You viewed your new dress in the mirror from the side and made a face. Pretended to examine the tight black number but were really just zeroing in on the sight of Bucky’s knuckles as he dragged the zip up your back. He hadn’t bothered to mend his hands, and you hadn’t thought to offer to bandage them up. You tried not to stare.
The hands paused at the top of your dress and froze.
Then crept back slowly, taking the zip along with it.
“Wanna—?”
“Bucky!”
One low groan, followed by a palm to his worn and wearied face. When you spun around, he didn’t move.
“Are you serious?” you bit.
“Will you talk to me now?” Bucky retorted.
To be fair, neither he nor his Winter Soldier persona knew how to solve the silent treatment from a pissed-off wife. This was brand new territory—being ignored for hours on end—and frankly, he had thought a playful request for sex might make you more amenable to conversation.
He had thought wrong.
You stared daggers at his handsome face and raised a finger as though to warn him, then stopped. Opened your mouth as if to speak, then appeared to decide against it. A steady, pulsing bass from the floors below was all that could be heard, and momentarily, you were reminded of why you were all here in the first place:
Locate Schröder. Corner Schröder. Capture Schröder. Bring the bad man to justice—or else just pump the motherfucker’s head full of lead and be done with it.
You weren’t too familiar with the particulars of the plan, but that had seemed to be the heart of it. Bucky never intended for you to stray from the safety of the lounge upstairs, where half of his team were casing the club through dozens of surveillance cameras, and he would likely take off with Sam and Steve the second you’d finished dressing. Now would be the time to talk.
And you planned to. Eventually.
For now, though, you’d let him sweat it out.
You had long envied women with effortless sex appeal and charisma. The kind that seemed to be made for the stage, capable of transfixing any audience, or individual, with little more than their aura alone. You’d never felt a fraction of that allure emanate from yourself before, personally, but looking at Bucky now brought you as close as you’d ever been. He was enthralled by your every move, he was intrigued at all times, you could see.
He was visibly aroused before you had even touched him. You knew it was cruel and unkind before you were even fully conscious of what you were doing, but you did it.
Someone had to teach this man how to control his anger—and his urges—somehow. Who better than you?
You drew closer to Bucky until your fronts almost touched.
“Baby,” you murmured. Simple, nearly plaintive.
Bucky blanched. Could it be? Had his bullshit gambit actually paid off and made you want to talk, or possibly do more? His hands immediately went for your hips, but you were quick to shove them off. You poked one finger to his chest and shook your head.
“We can talk,” you said, measured.
You pressed into his sternum and pretended not to see a short-lived look of defeat, followed by confusion, cross Bucky’s features. He let you walk him back a step or two.
“Okay. What about?”
Where the hell could you even begin?
“Sit first,” you urged him.
It was then that he realized you’d been walking him toward the plush sectional couch behind him—a cozy little touch to the VIP room only marginally diminished by the fact that it was coated in liquor, coke, and glitter. Bucky sat down anyway.
You didn’t follow, choosing instead to stand as you appeared to…scratch something on your back? Your husband looked on in muted curiosity as you reached behind yourself and tilted your torso just slightly.
Then he heard a zip. A hitch. Another, longer drag.
Bucky knew he was fucked before you ever slipped the dress off your body. You were to make quick work of it, eyes never leaving the man in front of you as you peeled the fabric down your legs and off of your frame entirely. When you were down to just your underwear, you hadn’t even needed to see his face to know exactly where his gaze was likely to land—this part was new to him. You kicked the dress aside and let him stare.
To be fair, it wasn’t every day he got to see a Ruger LC9 strapped to your thigh. Hidden in plain sight now that you were stripped bare before him in just your bra, panties, and garter-like holster across the top of your leg.
“Where’d you get that?” Bucky nearly choked, eyes wide.
“TJ Maxx,” you huffed, “Where the fuck do you think?”
“I never said you could— And Sam and Steve—”
Bucky paused, suddenly aware of how indignant and stupid he was starting to sound. He had given orders to the rest of his team not to let you carry a gun under any circumstances, but here you were. If he weren’t so violently aroused by the sight of you wearing the thing, he probably would’ve been fuming.
“A couple guys from your security detail were kind enough to make an exception,” you smiled, words verging on smug, “And who’s to say what I ‘can’ and ‘can’t’ do, hm?”
Bucky looked as though he were priming himself to stand when you lifted one stiletto to rest between his legs on the seat. A silent and quasi-sweet threat in one gesture.
“I didn’t say you can’t— well—” Bucky faltered at the last.
“You just said you never gave me permission!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “That doesn’t sound very equitable to me, James.”
Bucky let out a frustrated sigh of his own.
“C’mon. You know what I mean, honey…I just…want to keep you safe. You know that.”
“Self-defense is a pretty integral part of safety.”
“No one’s ever taught you to shoot!”
“You never bothered to ask!”
This was getting a little too aggressive and Jerry Springer-eqsue for your liking. Not nearly sexy or seductive enough to be heading in the direction you wanted. Bucky always brought the bickering out of you, but you had to stay strong. Slow and steady and all that bullshit.
So, before he could respond to your last remark, you lowered yourself over him. Brought both legs to bracket his hips and hovered carefully in place above the bulge in his tactical pants. When he swallowed beneath you and raked his gaze over your body, you felt a twinge of relief.
You sank further down. Dragged your lower half over his own and earned a groan from deep within his throat. Again, his hands flew to your waist to get a good grip, but you pried them off before they could ever fully sink into the flesh.
“What?” Impatience palpable in Bucky’s tone.
“No,” you answered simply.
“No?”
“No, you don’t get to touch me. You don’t own me.”
Your husband shifted under your body, hands helpless at his sides and masseter muscle visibly clenching beneath the skin as he gritted his teeth. He shook his head.
“I never said that I did,” he managed, after a pause, “Baby, I love you.”
“And beating the shit out of my dad was your special way of showing that?”
“That wasn’t—”
“Or snapping at Natasha. And Sam. Steve. Sharon,” you added emphasis to the last name without really meaning to, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I…lost my temper, I—”
“Couldn’t control your anger. Or wouldn’t. All because my dad made some stupid deal with a man and offered me up as collateral.”
“Because Joey wants you for himself!” Bucky snapped, voice suddenly raised to a near-deafening pitch. He shifted his hips and inadvertently grazed the heat between your legs, drawing a subtle pinch in his brow at the friction, “The deal your dad made was to give you over to Schröder in satisfaction of his own fucking debt—you think I was just gonna sit by and let that happen?!”
In spite of the animosity, you pressed your body to his even harder and watched him fold—if only slightly. He breathed a sharp inhale through his nose and flexed both his hands, as if wanting to make fists. However, he knew better than to move himself around at a time like this.
“What? Like the deal you made with him?”
Your words were clipped, almost cruel. You knew it would hit a nerve in Bucky, and sure enough, he met you right where you wanted him: enraged.
“That’s fucking different,” he seethed, “I would’ve paid your father’s debt without— without anything in it for me.”
“But you didn’t, and you got me.”
“And I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”
The abrupt vulnerability in his voice was all but agony to hear. For a second, it seemed the anger had fled—or at least been eclipsed by some softer, sweeter shade—only for Bucky to blink again, shake his head, and wear that stupid, hardened look that said, ‘I am not losing this.’ Your hands reached for his belt and started in on the zip.
“You have a real fucked up way of showing love, James.”
To your surprise, Bucky let you continue, unhindered. Blue eyes meeting yours in a cold look.
“Makes two of us,” he mumbled, shrugging his boxers and trousers out of the way anyway.
That was probably true. No person in their right mind would think fucking their husband was the safest, most surefire way to let him know they were pissed at him, but both you and Bucky were working on communication skills, still. You’d get to healthy, non-sex-fueled fights at some point.
As it was, Bucky was fumbling around your thighs, trying to pry them open even wider for better access through your panties. That you allowed, but the second he tried manhandling you over his crotch, you pushed back.
“I wanna do this— without your help,” you said, firm.
Somewhat begrudgingly, Bucky agreed. He let you line yourself up with his length, brace your weight against his shoulders, and when you paused, he made a soft, ‘Hm?’ and glanced down where you looked. Before you could remove the pistol from its holster, he set his palm atop the cool metal.
“Leave it,” he murmured.
His eyes flashed with desire. It was almost more than you could bear, despite the plain fact that riding someone with a firearm strapped to your thigh probably violated every NRA gun safety rule known to man. Whatever.
You lowered yourself onto Bucky, slow, and sucked in a quick breath as he filled you. Your husband groaned.
“Fuck,” followed shortly thereafter, almost timid to crawl out of his mouth as you sank to a fully-seated position on top of him. He gripped the armrest beside him.
When your hips first stirred, you thought the man might burst a blood vessel trying not to move right along with you. You pressed a hand to his chest and reminded him, gently but with purpose: let me fucking do this, Bucky, and he relented. Fisting the couch cushion in something close to a death grip, he nodded his head and heaved a short breath and watched you all the while, grinding on him.
“My pretty…pretty girl,” he managed through his teeth.
He was doing better than you expected. You watched his face contort with pleasure when you lifted yourself up to the tip of his cock and slide back down. You squeezed his shoulders, and you let out a low whimper yourself, and dammit all, you felt that pesky fucking knot already forming in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down and frowned, wanting this to last so much longer.
Fortunately, when your eyes found Bucky’s again, you got the sense that he was in the same boat as you: brow furrowed tight in concentration and lips parted slightly, panting in time with each one of your movements.
“Baby,” he said, the single word treading close to a plea. He paused, dropped a glance to the spot where your bodies were coupled, and swallowed. He cursed aloud, then continued, quietly, “Baby…’m’sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” You bounced a bit faster.
“For— fuckin’ hell, honey— for being a…dick.” The last part of his sentence was pierced by a grunt and a moan, but you heard it just the same.
You clenched around him and tried to keep steady. Manage a small, shit-eating grin above him, even.
“Being a dick?” you repeated, pretending not to know what he meant. When his cock grazed over a particularly sensitive place inside you, you just swallowed the moan and kept going, fingers taking hold of some short tufts of hair at the back of Bucky’s head as you rode him.
“Possessive. Controlling. Kind of a—” Bucky paused to grunt when he bottomed out inside, hands aching to hold you, “—piece of shit.”
Finally, you were getting somewhere. Not nearly close enough to cure the rage or the dark, grating impulses churning inside of him, but good enough, for now.
You reached for his hands and set them over your hips.
The next most natural thing was to lean down and kiss him—let his tongue invade your mouth as soon as he’d caught your lips and show you, with a wordless and fast-moving show of affection, that he missed you. And meant what he’d said. With his hands moving quick to cup your cheeks, hold you to him while he kissed you and stroked deep inside your walls, he gripped you tighter than he had in a while. You could feel strips of tension and desperation bleed through his every fingertip.
“Wanna…fuckin’ kill anyone who even thinks…of— fuck,” Bucky’s words were almost slurred at this point, so close to the point of release it seemed every wild and wanton thought that crossed his mind was likely to dance off his tongue, unchecked. You loved to see him in it this deep.
You also had to remind the murderous alter ego that violence was not the answer…always. You let him pull you closer, bodies pressed flush against each other while you fucked, but you made sure to tilt his chin up to yours so he could see the expression on your face as you spoke.
“Hey,” you pinned him with one stern look, “No murder.”
Bucky frowned.
“Yes murder,” he retorted.
You sighed.
This shit was worse than teaching a dog not to bite.
Instead of pulling back or being strict this time, though, you decided you’d give positive reinforcement a try. You squeezed his short locks of hair, gently, and rolled your hips even tighter to his, eliciting a stuttered groan. You bounced up and down on his cock, pulled him into your chest, and brought your face within an inch of his.
“Promise to be good, and I’ll let you cum inside me,” you murmured into his lips. Not the wisest offer you’d made to date, but one that Bucky seemed to want more than the air in his lungs the second the words escaped you. He pulled you in for a kiss, immediately.
“Fuck, you mean it?” he breathed, in between each sloppy, frenzied movement of his mouth.
“Yeah,” you tried not to grin at how eager he seemed, “You’re gonna apologize to everyone, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
Bucky barely seemed to register anyone or anything but you and your pussy at the moment, yearning for the go-ahead to let himself free inside you. With a nod of your head, you’d let him start meeting your motions with gentle thrusts of his own, and both of you were teetering precariously close to the edge with that added pressure. In spite of both your hot and heady, near-anoetic states, you endeavored to hold out a little longer, legs aching.
“Gonna try and talk to Schröder first?” you panted.
Bucky rutted into you hard, lips twitching into a frown.
“Doesn’t…deserve it,” he grunted, barely able to get the words out as he grabbed your hips and thrusted harder, “A fucking bullet between the eyes is what he needs.”
You eyed him soberly, or as serious as you could manage with the force of his strokes nearly sending you into a spiral. You fought back a moan and gripped him tighter.
“Bucky.”
“Bunny.”
Damn, that name.
“Promise me you won’t kill him—or anyone—tonight.”
“Baby—”
“Promise.”
His thrusts were getting sloppier; with his hands hoisting you just above him and his cock practically drilling into you now, speech and coherent thought were some of the toughest things to accomplish, but he tried it, anyway. Bucky would swallow his pride and accede to his wife, no matter how fucking badly he wanted to cum—and kill that Russian mob boss with both his bare, bloody hands.
He could be better than the Winter Soldier. He would.
With a rough, labored breath, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss and felt you squeeze around his cock like a vice. Still thrusting, clutching you, kissing you hard, he saw both of your releases coming in fast and had to act even quicker.
“I— I promise,” he stammered.
That was all either of you needed, or could bear, quite frankly. In the next second or two, you felt a cord snap in your lower half and a deep, punchy flurry of pleasure follow shortly thereafter, fingers sinking deep in Bucky’s shoulders as he bounced you on his cock and held you close. With your walls still pulsing around him, you felt him chase his own high at a breakneck pace, shooting his load inside you a moment later. It was bad, it was brash, it was a really fucking dumb idea to be playing around with the odds of making babies at a time like this, but it also felt good. Exhilarating, even, feeling him empty his balls in that space between your wet, aching walls and filling you up with his seed.
Maybe just one little mini-Bucky wouldn’t—
STOP.
You barely had the energy to acknowledge, much less arbitrate that bone-crushing conflict between your brain and reproductive organs, so you shut the thoughts up with a quick, messy kiss to Bucky, whose chest was still heaving from the peak of his release, holding you to him.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Maybe even two—
FUCK YOU.
The internal war wouldn’t go away that easy, it seemed.
You kissed Bucky long and hard regardless, hoping the shit would sort itself out before you really had to think. Or worry. Or plan. It was dumb and a bit short-sighted, but feeling that hot, erratic pulse between your legs did a pretty good job of making it seem just fine for right now.
Bucky’s expression was lax. Soaking in the feel of your cum-painted insides still squeezing around him, gently. Had he been anywhere but the heart of Low Town on a covert mission in a strip club, hunting down the head of HYDRA with a whole troupe of trained assassins, he probably would’ve liked to stay that way a little longer. But, as it was, he could already hear folks filing in and out of the lounge, footfalls growing heavier as his team loaded up with guns, grenades, and whatever other weapons they could fit beneath their formal attire.
“Don’t look so sad,” you said as you lifted off of Bucky. Carefully pulling your panties back into place as your husband watched you do it, practically forlorn.
“Too late,” he returned in half a groan, yanking his own clothes where they needed to be and trailing a look up your legs, “Might feel better if we tried it again, though.”
“I bet.” You pulled your dress over your head.
Your husband had just tightened his belt and was rolling his shoulders to get a knot out of his neck, it seemed.
“What are your thoughts on ‘Bucky Jr.’?” he asked casually.
“Don’t start with this shit.”
“Jamie for a girl, maybe?”
“I’ll kill you.”
Your baby talk and death threat tête-à-tête continued for quite some time—just a couple minutes, but they felt like years to you—and before long, you were rubbing the gun under your dress and casting a glare in Bucky’s direction, and he got the sense that it was time to head back to the group. He looped an arm around your waist and led you out into the main space.
The living room was little more than a makeshift headquarters at that point. You’d been expecting to see more faces, but the only ones you found were Sam, Natasha, and a few silent, beefy individuals you assumed were part of security. Where Sharon and your parents had gotten off to was anyone’s guess. You took a seat on the couch.
“Anything yet?” Bucky questioned, approaching the panel of surveillance screens with a wary eye.
“We’ve had intermittent visuals on the second floor for forty minutes or so—” Sam motioned to one screen on the left, “—but Schröder hasn’t moved. Hasn’t done anything but bullshit and booze and buy rounds for his group. Won’t even talk to the dancers, which is weird.”
From what you’d been told, the goal was to get Schröder off the second floor, up to one particular private suite on fourth, then send in an agent dressed as a bottle girl to make entry as soon as the rest of the party had arrived, keeping in contact with HQ, and Sam, via PTT earpiece all the while. The details from that point were hazy, but you’d gotten the sense that someone—or, more likely, a sizable and duly-equipped group of someones—was lying in wait somewhere in the suites surrounding them. Steve had been tasked with leading the incursion, though where he could be found, or whom he was with, remained largely a mystery to you. Recon in a bustling, crowded area with music blaring on all four sides was a formidable undertaking, and you could tell both Sam and Natasha had been having trouble keeping tabs on every player. They seemed on edge, monitoring the screens.
“Won’t talk to the dancers?” Bucky’s brow pinched in.
“Won’t talk to anyone outside of his inner circle,” Natasha said, grim, “Which leads me to think he’s not staying here long. Probably called his associates in for a speedy-quick deal because he knows he’s being tailed.”
“Hasn’t engaged with any of our undercovers?” Bucky pressed.
Natasha and Sam shook their heads. Your husband groaned.
“Then how the hell are we getting him upstairs to the champagne room? If he hasn’t budged and doesn’t look like he’s planning to stay?”
The looks on the faces in front of him said there wasn’t one readily available answer—or any answer at all. Bucky turned back to the screens and seemed to survey the whole panel, gaze cooling with the first inkling that this operation may be classed a failure in the very near future.
He barked some half-coherent babble about strategy, security, and failsafes, then barked for Steve.
And, as if on cue, Steve appeared at the threshold of the room a moment later, breathless and slightly flushed.
“Rogers, you’re suppos—” Sam started, eyes widening at something you couldn’t quite discern from his arrival.
“I know, I know,” Steve cut in, fast, “Want the good news or bad news fir—”
“Just spit it out,” Natasha said, preemptively unnerved.
“Schröder’s headed to the suite right now—”
Bucky raised both eyebrows at Steve as he continued.
“—but they won’t let Wanda in.”
‘Fuck’ was the first audible word from your husband, then Sam, in short order. Wanda must have been the agent playing bottle girl upstairs. This didn’t sound good.
“Why the fuck won’t they let her in?” Bucky snapped.
“Someone might’ve tipped his security off. Or else they’re just being extra cautious about who’s let in.”
Steve fiddled with one cufflink on his suit and tried not to appear too despondent, but the implications of this single event were huge, you could read on every face in the room. Wanda had been meant to do something important before the rest of the brigade mobilized—take some key step that couldn’t be omitted from the plan.
“So we retreat.” Natasha was not one to mince her words, per usual, “Get your guys out of the suites now.”
Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides.
“No,” he said, sharply, “We’re not doing that.”
“Bucky.”
“We’ll get someone in there. We’ll find another way.”
Your husband was already pacing the space in front of you, and you looked on with uncertain eyes. You chanced a look to Natasha, Sam, and Steve, all of whom shared similar, albeit slightly more wearied, expressions as they watched and murmured among themselves.
“None of our people are getting up there, Barnes. Schröder’s got a goddamn sixth sense about our agents or something,” Steve said, at length.
“They’re all in masks—for a fucking masquerade—and we can’t get one person in?! In-and-out, that’s all it needs to be,” Bucky growled.
“We can’t get in there, that’s the point,” Sam sighed, “Masks or no masks, they know our people too well and won’t let us through.”
“We can at least try, for Christ’s sake. That’s what we came this whole fuckin’ way to do, right?”
When no one said a word in response, Bucky scowled,
“Right?”
There was a lull in the conversation that seemed to last for minutes, when, in reality, couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen seconds. Tensions were high. You could tell from the look in Bucky’s eye he was trying not to lash out as he normally would, but in no time at all, you saw a fractional break in his resolve. You feared he might fly off the handle, or else compromise something that couldn’t be spared at a time like this. You swallowed.
“I’ll go.”
It was stupid.
Every face turned to regard you as if you were stupid, you assumed as soon as the words had left your mouth.
But then, much to your surprise, Steve was perking up, eyes suddenly brighter as his gaze tilted to you.
“She could,” he said, shortly.
“Should she?” Sam seemed to murmur at once.
“Sure, why not?”
“I can think of plenty reasons why not,” Natasha was quick to counter, but beneath that pensive expression, you could’ve sworn you saw the smallest degree of contemplation. Even hope, from the looks of it.
‘NO’ was Bucky’s wordless, immediate, and resounding answer as he kicked whatever furniture—a footstool, this time—was closest to him and sent it flying toward the door. It seemed that self-control of his had worn off fast.
“No,” he affirmed in a word a second later, jaw clenched, “She is going nowhere near that suite.”
He didn’t even spare you a glance while he spoke. He was too busy eyeing the others, Steve specifically, as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and a light, blooming tinge of pink rose the length of his neck. If it weren’t for that staunch and menacing look on his face, he would’ve almost looked cute, you mused to yourself.
But, pretty man be damned, you wouldn’t stand for being ignored. Fuck that noise.
“I will,” you returned, a little more resolute this time.
Now Bucky had no choice but to pivot to you. His expression softened some, but not by much.
“No,” he said, again.
“Yes.”
“Baby—”
“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, Barnes. You said someone who wasn’t an agent could make it up there, and I can do it. Or try, at least, like you just said.”
If your attention hadn’t been fixed on your husband, you probably would’ve caught sight of more than one thinly veiled smile from the group around you. Natasha, in particular, all but tickled to see someone stand up to Bucky and give him a taste of his own shit—and live to tell the tale. The sight of her boss’s eyes almost glossy in the first tender look she’d seen from him in years was almost too much to bear. Steve stood grinning beside her, and Sam narrowly stifled an exhale of amusement. Neither you nor Bucky flinched from your positions.
“We can’t risk you being around him. They’re already all on high-alert,” your husband said after a calming breath.
“As are all your trigger-happy comrades waiting just ten feet outside the door, right?” you replied, “What is it, like, five, ten of them in total?”
“Twenty,” Steve interjected. Bucky shot him a look.
“I don’t care. I don’t want you up there when that fucker was just trying to— to kidnap you last week. I’m not—”
“Right. Right. Trying to kidnap me, not kill me. If Schröder wanted me dead, he would’ve made pretty quick work of that before,” you cut in, tone a touch more deliberate, “Even if he sniffs me out, he’s not gonna screw this whole deal by hurting me now.”
But the mere suggestion of harm to you had seemed to raise every hair on its end for Bucky, and then he was shaking his head, evidently more stubborn than ever.
“No, fuck. Don’t start,” he snapped with his newfound indignation, then, quieter, “Please…don’t, honey.”
You wouldn’t bow that easily.
“Why not?”
Truly, Bucky couldn’t be certain if it was the lilt in your voice, the pinch at the sides of your lips, or simply the sincerity consuming your eyes as you spoke to him, but the man could not stomach the thought of you, his own wife, being a stone’s throw from mortal danger and beyond his protection—or control, he wasn’t sure which one of the two was more dominating. Some cruel and unforgiving knot inside him came to tighten, and twist, and, nauseating as it was set on escape, the white-hot surge rose like bile in his throat. Before he could stop it, the words were spilling out through his teeth like froth:
“Cause I fuckin’ said so, that’s why. That’s it. It’s settled. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, you hear me?”
What Bucky hadn’t expected was the swift ascent back to your feet. The cool and almost careless expression as you rose, as though his words hadn’t registered at all.
He certainly hadn’t expected you to check him with your shoulder as you passed, knocking him slightly off-balance as he turned, in shock, and watched you give him one manicured middle finger over your left shoulder.
“Rogers, I’d like you to escort me upstairs.”
Worst of all, Bucky hadn’t expected Steve to listen.
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Fortunately for him, the night was still young and with it, more than ample opportunity to be proven wrong again. And again.
“And again,” Steve murmured low in your ear as you walked side-by-side down the corridor on fourth floor, “If you get even the slightest bad feeling, you leave.”
“Might as well dip right now,” you muttered, adjusting your mask. Your attempt at humor fell flat with the man.
“I’m serious. We’ll be right outside and listening in from headquarters, but HYDRA is not a faction to fuck around with, or underestimate—as I assume you know by now.”
You did. Or would, eventually.
After the mask, you were busy trying to yank the back of your cocktail waitress dress to cover the full swell of your ass, not just the upper two-thirds. Unsurprisingly, it was a tougher task than you had been prepared to handle. Your new heels were tight and impossibly high, your new dress a mere scrap of pink fabric riddled with sequins and glitter, and your mask—holy fuck, were you glad Mardi Gras was not a year-round affair. Bucky had insisted on the fluffiest, stuffiest, full-face covering to ensure that no one would be able to recognize you, but in exchange for your anonymity, you had had to give up breathing, it seemed.
And then there was that vial of poison between your tits.
Sam had assured you that it was a nonlethal dose before handing it over; Steve had urged you, discreetly, to pour Schröder two for good measure. Natasha had overheard the latter and threatened legal action if he ever tried killing a target without her permission. You hadn’t spent much longer getting ready in the bathroom after that. Then you’d brushed past your husband the second you’d stepped out and strapped that last, semi-lethal ‘accessory’ to your bra before taking the lift upstairs.
As it turned out, you weren’t able to escape him entirely.
While you walked with Steve, Bucky was in your ear.
Literally—the man was talking nonstop through your earpiece and clearly had no intention of shutting the fuck up anytime soon. You silently wondered if there was a way to adjust the volume on the gadget as you ambled along.
“Honey.” There was a slightly more mechanical buzz to Bucky’s voice over your private line. You ignored it.
“So just find the cup he’s drinking from and pour the serum in?” you reiterated to Steve for the third time in the last ten minutes.
Your companion nodded, rattling off a few extra precautions while Bucky’s tone rang out a bit louder:
“Honey? You there?”
At last, you stuck your finger to the tiny flesh-colored device in your ear and snapped, “What?!”
“I love you.”
This fucker.
“I love you too. You’re still high on my shit list, though,” you answered, low and begrudgingly.
“Did I hear ‘hit list’? You’re gonna let me tap that later?”
If you didn’t have about fifteen different reasons to hate the man’s guts, you almost would’ve chuckled. At length, you muttered a quiet, ‘Kiss my ass, Barnes,’ and turned back to Steve, who was just then leading you closer to a room roped off and marked ‘EXECUTIVE SUITE.’ Your stomach did a flip as you paused around the corner.
“Right there. All you gotta do is knock and say a guy named Zemo sent you,” Steve spoke slowly, as if he were teaching arts and crafts to a five-year-old and not a woman about to embark on a high-risk sedation mission.
You nodded and took the silver tray from him carefully.
All the platter contained was an oversized bottle of Brut and a silver bucket, but damn if it didn’t feel like you were carrying the world and some change on that thing. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and turned in the direction of the door just a few yards away.
The time for painstakingly descriptive instructions and pep talks was long past you now. You nodded to Steve one last time and started to wobble over.
The entryway was flanked by two muscle-bound men. You approached with a smile.
“Hi. Zemo sent me.”
You didn’t know who the fuck Zemo was.
You hoped they wouldn’t ask, or notice how stilted and awkward you’d sounded just then. You swallowed a peach-sized lump in your throat and smiled again.
The one on the left grunted. The one on the right gave a nod. Without a word spoken between them, the former opened the door and made way for you to step over the threshold. You couldn’t help but notice both with their eyes trained straight on your tits as you passed by.
There was no way that had just worked. No pat-downs or harrowing threats? Not a single, searing interrogation into your identity or what you might be there to do?
Men were dumb, you decided, far too easily deceived by a decent pair of tits—HYDRA security personnel or not.
But you already knew that. You stepped inside.
The fetid stench of half a dozen blazing cigars and booze spilled on every surface were the first to greet you. A wave of smoke, then a bone-jostling bum bum bum to the beat of what sounded like a Don Toliver song came next. You almost couldn’t bear to make your feet move.
But then, shortly, you had to because a shrill, shimmer-doused beauty was waving you over toward the kitchen.
“Ba-by!” she shrieked, gesture growing frantic, “Bring it over!”
You walked with the tray out in front of you, careful with your steps across the sticky floor. When you made it over, where one other girl was stirring wildly at some concoction on the counter, you stopped, and had only to stand for a second longer, because the redhead that had beckoned you was taking the tray, setting it down, and grabbing something thin and pointy. You’d barely even registered it as an ice pick until the thing was thrust in your face.
“Crush it up,” she ordered, one curt nod toward a block of ice nearby. Evidently not giving a shit who you were or where you’d come from either. You guessed Wanda had just gotten unlucky, or they’d all stopped giving a fuck once Schröder’s men had really started drinking.
And drinking they had been, as your eyes surveyed the scene. Half-naked women with fully-clothed men, dressed head to toe in the finest of suits that were probably soaked through to the bone with sweat and Stolichnaya. You almost shivered at the sight of all the masked, wildly gyrating pricks, fumbling desperately through one verse of ‘After Party.’ You could vomit.
But where was your prick? That grimy little shit, Joey.
“Back of the room by the couch,” Bucky said, as if he’d read your mind.
Then a beat.
“Wait. Shit. That isn’t him. Schröder’s over by the door.”
How many tall, lanky blonds could there be in this place? You cast a sweeping look across the room and received your answer in less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail—there were a shit ton of Joey lookalikes all around.
“Careful. Mr. Schröder’s been on edge all night. Might bite your head off if you stare too long.”
The girl that was stirring had apparently caught you looking. She set the spoon aside and turned, but not before chancing a quick glance at the man Bucky had identified to you as your target. The man lifted his gaze.
You chipped away at the ice even faster.
Crush the shit, make a drink, pour the serum, and get it in him. Now. Don’t draw his attention just yet, though.
Something in your head told you to steal another look. You knew it was a bad idea, but you went on and did it anyway—and fortunately, felt a wave of relief at seeing that he’d retreated somewhere back with his friends. The ice pick in your hands made it through the last block.
“I’ll serve the shots, you bring the bottle to Mr. Pierce.”
Mr. Who?
“One of Schröder’s associates. Roll with it.”
It was Natasha’s voice now. Measured, but tense.
“He’s the older gentlemen straight ahead. He probably ordered the champagne for him and the others.”
That was Sam. You could only imagine how all of them looked huddled around the surveillance panel with the transmitter to your earpiece being passed about from person to person. The grip Bucky must’ve had on his gun, or his switchblade, or whatever weapon he could seize to make himself feel a little less helpless. But he was—as were you. And truthfully, there was nothing either one of you could do about that until Schröder was in custody. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.
So you walked with the bottle, now bathed in a tub of ice. You tried to keep steady, but the staggering drunks all around were making that tough, to say the least.
When one man struck you straight in the chest, elbows jutting out as he danced, you stumbled back a step. Nearly lost the tray for half a second, then recovered.
Until the dipshit hit you again.
This time you truly almost sent the bottle sailing for the floor, grip slipping on the tray and knees buckling underneath you as the force of the blow set you back. You bit a quick, ‘Fuck!’ in the air, seized the platter twice as hard and braced your weight against something firm behind you. A shelf, a TV stand, or something. Maybe a half-wall if you were lucky enough not to have careened against some expensive piece of furniture. You sighed.
“Everything alright?” a voice rumbled behind you.
Or a person. Yeah, a person would be pretty fucking bad to bump into at a time like this. Your whole body froze.
You turned.
“Ye-es sir. Yes, sir.” You quickly righted your tone the second you realized it was someone important.
Not Schröder, but someone who seemed to be big-name enough; you just weren’t sure who. The man smiled down at you from under his Venetian mask.
“Is this for me?” he nodded toward the tray, half-teasing.
You swallowed.
“Are you Mr. Pierce?” you asked.
The man’s grin stretched even wider.
“Nope, I’m Ward. but I can take you to Pierce.”
For the first time that night, your heart swelled with some promise. You thanked him quietly, gratefully, then made as if to follow him back through the crowd, when all of a sudden, you stopped. That heartfelt swelling in your chest halted right along with it. You almost dropped the tray.
“Schröder!” Ward bellowed.
No, no, now you were actually going to lose your shit. There was no way in hell you were keeping a grip on this silver little plate any longer without crying or screaming or shitting your pretty, pink, sequin minidress right there. You almost shrieked when a hand reached for the tray.
“Pierce got you doing all the heavy lifting, huh, honey? The bastard.” Even through his own ornate mask, you could tell Joey was grinning—glinting with conceit, as was his prerogative. He took the load off your hands.
“Take it easy now, he’s just—”
“Staring at your rack. Pull your top up, baby, please.”
The chatter in your ear had switched from Sam to Bucky at nearly lightning speed. You glanced down at your cleavage and tugged the fabric up quick, heart beating even faster underneath it.
In front of you, Joey Schröder was all teeth. A gruesome spectacle in spite of its seemingly benevolent intentions, one smile could have turned your stomach sideways. And it did—you wanted to throw up again—but you knew you had bigger fish to fry, and evil mobsters to poison. You didn’t flinch when Schröder nudged you in the shoulder and made his way ahead, coaxing you to follow.
You didn’t tense and didn’t protest. Didn’t blink when he led you straight through the party, around a few topless performers on poles, and into a backroom lounge.
In fact, your mind practically sang as he led you inside.
It was just every other nerve, muscle, and trembling tendon not under the immediate control of your brain that needed soothing. You could’ve sworn the men on the couches would see your legs shaking as soon as you trudged into the room and sniff you out on sight.
But if they had, they didn’t show it.
No one moved when you entered, save for a few lopsided grins and tilts of happy, masked faces. Sizing you up. Drinking you in. Far too easily mistakable for a band of apex predators that had just caught wind of their next meal, and not a room full of sleazy Russian mobsters. You bit back your grating disgust with a smile.
“Got a present for ya, Pierce,” Schröder announced.
A honey-blond head flecked with silver and white sat up from the sofa. Presumably the one who’d ordered the champagne.
“Oh yeah? What’d ya pay for her?” he returned, mouth curling up in a wicked smile.
Even above the booming music, you could make out peals of laughter as the men around you shared in some lewd, crude comments and several whispers exchanged between them. You would’ve liked to grab your bottle by the neck and break it over the nearest patron’s head, but then you remembered yourself, and your mission. You stilled beside Schröder and let them crack a few more tasteless jokes at your expense. Schröder chuckled and set the tray down in front of a thoroughly amused Pierce.
Then he grabbed you by the waist.
“Right. I forgot to ask—what is your price, sweetheart?” he said, swiftly pulling you up to his front.
Your hands flew to his chest reflexively. Your nose scrunched in a wince at the sound of an electric shout:
“GET HIM OFF OF HER!”
“Bucky, hey, hey, we can’t just—”
“NO! THAT’S NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PL—”
The line went silent. You scratched at the space behind your ear, trying hard not to betray any pain on your face, or the fear for what might be going on downstairs.
Clearly, you failed on both fronts, because Joey’s grip only tightened. He peered down at you, curious.
“You deaf or somethin’, sugar? What’s your price?”
You batted your eyes, momentarily struggling for words.
But then, somehow, you managed to choke out, stomach churning with bile:
“Whatever you want, sir.”
You felt your soul drain out through the soles of your shoes as you’d said it. Something fell from your face—most likely a light behind your eyes and any semblance of self-worth as you stood before the man who had tried to buy you, drug you, and kill half your family, and then pretend like you wanted to dance for him, or do more.
It wasn’t real.
It wasn’t right by any means, but it was all just roleplay.
Roleplay.
You had to keep telling yourself that as you let Schröder’s hand glide up your spine and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head up to his. It was just like your husband and his cold-blooded Winter Soldier persona, you tried to convince the increasingly frightened voice in your mind. Just like him, just like your sweet and soft and sadistic—
“Bucky,” you whispered unconsciously.
You knew he couldn’t hear you now. It was almost insane to think anyone could save you now but yourself.
“What?” Joey exhaled sharply.
You froze in fear.
“Five hundred bucks,” you corrected your error quickly.
You weren’t sure Schröder was convinced.
“Five hundred bucks for one lap dance and some fun?” he scoffed. Then he squeezed your neck a little tighter and drew your face within an inch of his own. You could feel the hot puffs of breath, smell the rancid liquor on his tongue, but you stayed where he held you in place and tried not to grimace when he said, “That’s a damn steal.”
Your lips were shaking something awful under your mask. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what kissing this vile, soulless bastard would taste like, but you feared it might come sooner than you knew, because Joey was drawing you even more rough and tight into his chest.
Just when your mouth was less than a hair’s breadth away from his, though, you heard a woman’s scream.
Then another. And another. And another.
Before long, almost half the suite had erupted in shrieks, it seemed, and the sounds of their horror were shortly supplanted by a series of explosions. And gunfire.
Johann Schröder dropped your body like the worst habit known to man and went bounding away from the turmoil as fast as he could. This time, you did trip over your heels and took a nasty little nosedive to the ground. Fumbling, crawling, then sliding across the shag carpet on your belly with your eyes in wild search of somewhere to hide.
You spotted a coffee table and muscled your way over.
“SCHRÖDER!” a voice roared from somewhere behind.
Again, you knew better than to look, but the fear of not knowing who, or what, might be barreling your direction at any second outweighed more sensible considerations. You stole a look over your shoulder and nearly screamed.
A man with a pitch black balaclava stormed into the lounge and wasted no time setting sights on his intended target—raising a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun to his face and firing the second the impulse struck.
You watched a once-handsome, lively, and drunk man turn to shredded, fleshy carnage in less than an instant and fall right beside your head with a thud. Your hand was your only defense to keep the shriek inside your chest, but even that blockade was crumbling fast as the blood-soaked assassin wrenched the body in the air.
The gunman tore the mask from his victim’s head and inspected the face—or what was left of it. He cursed.
You could tell from your close proximity to the blues of his eyes, and that sigh, you wouldn’t need to ask at all. You just sat there and stared, knees hugged to your chest as Bucky threw the body back down as hard as he could.
“FUCK!” he bellowed, voice flooded with rage.
Steve stumbled in with his gun at the ready. He eyed the man on the floor, then you, then a dozen other flailing, desperate partygoers trying to escape the suite all around you. You just drew in even tighter to the table.
“What happened?! Where’d he go?”
Rogers, like you, seemed unable to look away from the carcass, but for entirely different reasons. He appeared to be studying it just as your husband had been.
“It’s not Schröder!” Bucky yelled.
“Where the fuck’s he— shit.”
Suddenly, an unknown assailant opened fire on the two men from the opposite end of the room. Both dove for cover, but not before Bucky grabbed you and dragged you, full-force, behind the sofa. It didn’t seem there was time for sweet words or consolations, his eyes wide and half-crazed as they bore into yours just in front of you.
“Don’t move,” he barked, readjusting his grip on his gun in one hand and feeling around all over your sides with the other. On seeing and feeling no trauma, he nodded his head and moved his hand to your cheek, just briefly.
“Honey, I need you here—right here for me, alright? Don’t move a muscle,” he spoke low as Steve covered from above, rapid-fire shots ringing out on both sides.
Rushed and furious as he was, he couldn’t help but linger on that face a half-second longer than he intended. You were shaking your head and hugging your knees, meeting his eyes with what seemed to be reproach.
“You promised, Bucky,” you hissed through gritted teeth.
You were in shock, that was what it was, he kept telling himself. You didn’t know what you were saying, and he needed to turn away to help Steve, but then you were eyeing that body—that man he could’ve sworn was Schröder when he’d pumped him full of bullets—and you were turning back to him with unmistakable disgust.
He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged his wife for forgiveness if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. Like your life and his, and Steve’s—and Sam’s, now, bursting onto the scene with a semi-automatic rifle of his own as he helped his friend gun down the last of the stragglers. Bucky knew he had to help them, too.
So he’d stumbled back on his feet, less conscious than acting on pure impulse, and he joined in on the gunfire.
He reckoned he liked it. However long it lasted. He just rolled his shoulders once and sent the rounds flying; he ducked and he moved and he stood and he crouched and he fired every shot as if it were as easy to him as breathing. He didn’t think. When the three of them had cleared the lounge, and Sam and Steve tore off toward the two or three remaining rooms at the rear of the suite, Bucky still wasn’t fully present in his body. All he knew was that his clip was near-empty and his side was in pain—and the room they had emptied was safe. For you.
For you—where the fuck had you gone?!
Bucky barreled past the spot behind the couch where you were supposed to have been, but weren’t, and made a beeline for the closest room over. And nothing. More empty, threadbare, and bloody rooms filled with bodies that didn’t belong to you, and shortly he was yelling for Sam or Steve or anyone in that massacred suite to help him find his wife. The breaths in his chest were heaving.
He turned once, twice, eyes roaming wildly and hand grabbing fast for more ammo. He couldn’t find any more. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow, and just when he turned to call for backup once more, he paused.
In his periphery, he saw two forms.
He stopped fully and turned to the side.
If it was fear he had felt just then, he wasn’t aware of it. Instead, it seemed a white-hot and blinding ire had taken over, and rather than grow timid, or afraid, he went cold.
“Bucky…don’t,” you managed in a strangled, hoarse tone, throat visibly contained by a blade being held to it.
Behind you, a man stood masked and unflinchingly calm.
Bucky knew that wouldn’t do—no matter how hard or helplessly you pleaded with him then not to do it, please don’t do it, Bucky, please. All he heard in his head was the throb of his pulse, and all he saw before him was red.
He fired without a second thought.
The round just grazed the edge of the man’s cheek.
Bucky swore. Tried to fire his gun again. It was empty.
Still not thinking, much less hearing his wife’s desperate cries for him to spare the man’s life, he grabbed the smallest, sharpest object that was closest to him and charged your would-be attacker head on.
Both men fell to the floor, but only Bucky was mobile.
Only Bucky held the weapon now, as his opponent’s knife had been lost somewhere in the skirmish, and he was wielding it now faster than he ever had before, he thought—an ice pick, of all fucking things—driving it into the man’s face and neck and chest without the slightest regard for anything else.
Somewhere far outside his mind, he heard you scream. Felt you claw at his arm, grip at his shirt, make some wild, shrill, and vehement pleas that he couldn’t begin to understand in this state, and he continued. Hadn’t even considered slowing down until the man’s carotid was shredded in two and spewing blood all over his front.
Bucky couldn’t be sure how long it lasted like that; all he remembered was stumbling back, energy spent, fist still holding the pick and eyes duly glued to the body he’d just stabbed through and maimed until no life was left.
He saw you crawl over the body.
He wanted to warn you not to touch it. Lifted a hand and tried his best to form words, but nothing came out.
He watched you lift the mask.
From that point on, he was certain he had to have been seeing things that weren’t really there. Trauma-induced psychosis, he tried to assuage himself silently—that was the only explanation for the scene unfolding before him. Surely it couldn’t be you cupping that face, pinching that skin, shaking that cold and lifeless, blood-drenched frame beneath you as a sob racked through your own.
That signet ring on a pinky couldn’t have been real.
Bucky didn’t want to believe that gruesome discovery made manifest before him—in many ways, he couldn’t—but then it was painted clear as day as the cries endured, nothing changed, and a helpless, frantic wail rang out:
“DAD!”
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valeskafics · 1 month
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"Finer Things" - Daemon Targaryen x Lannister!Reader
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a/n: SO this is a little pick me up fic for my darling @dreamfyre03. you'd requested a ye olde bimbo fic a while back and i hope this one (which i combined with an anon request for daemon stealing otto's betrothed) is able to make you smile love 🩷
Summary: When Daemon meets you, Otto Hightower's sweet and innocent betrothed, he knows he'd do anything to have you for himself.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, infidelity technically not really, semi public sexual encounter, fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk
Word Count: 2,255 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Daemon has no interest in meeting you at first. The second wife to be of Ser Otto Hightower, his grandsire’s Lord Hand. A spoiled Lannister brat, no doubt, with your nose in the air and head in the clouds. Lannister women are always too pretty, and they always know it, he thinks. You, with tales of your beauty having spread around the realm, are likely no exception to this rule. He begrudgingly follows Viserys and Rhaenys to the courtyard, where you, your father, and your younger twin brothers are to be greeted.
The moment he sees you emerge from the wheelhouse, Daemon knows his life is forever changed. You are unlike any of the ladies who flock to his side in the capitol, unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. There is an innocent air about you, a naivete that he finds intoxicating. He watches as you greet his grandsire and grandmother, then his brother and cousin. Finally, you approach him, a sweet smile on your face as you greet him with a low curtsy.
“Prince Daemon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His eyes are filled with an intense curiosity as he eyes you up and down for a moment too long before quickly nodding and taking your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“You are as stunning as they say, Lady Lannister. In fact, the tales I have heard of your beauty have not done it true justice.”
You let out a soft laugh, a lilting sound that has Daemon wanting nothing more than to hear it again as you reply, “You are very kind, Your Grace. I only hope my betrothed feels the same as you do.”
Your words hit the prince like a slap to the face. Your betrothed. Yes, that’s the reason you’re here in the first place, isn’t it? To wed that slithering serpent Otto Hightower. A woman like you deserves so much more than to be the second wife of that unfeeling cunt. He won’t let this happen. He can’t. Not when you could have so much more. Not when you could have him.
“Ser Otto is a lucky man,” Daemon allows a pregnant pause before continuing, “However, my lady, the Lord Hand is old enough to be your father. Surely such a match is… Well, pardon my frankness, but inappropriate.”
You give him a small smile, and instantly he can tell that even if you don’t say it openly, you agree with his words. Good. The foundation of your relationship is already shaky. A few well timed blows will be enough to break it entirely. Daemon offers you his arm as he escorts you inside the Red Keep, listening as you speak in a hushed tone, admitting what he already knew.
“In truth, I’m a bit anxious, Your Grace. The man is old enough to be my father.”
“Then, my lady,” Daemon leans in, whispering in your ear as he escorts you to your guest chambers, “May I ask if you were to marry anyone in the realm, any man of your choosing, who would you want?”
You shy away slightly at the question, a sight which intrigues him greatly as you mumble, “Oh, goodness. I don’t know, actually. Truly, I don’t know many people outside my own house. My own immediate family, really.”
“What about me?” Daemon teases, growing impatient now in his desire to have you, to steal you, “Would you want me?”
“Well, I’ve only just made your acquaintance, Your Grace…”
Such an adorable little thing you are, barely able to meet his eye. He wonders if this is the first time you’ve been in such close proximity to a man outside of your own family. Judging by the way you react to the tiniest of gestures, he’s quite sure it’s true. Your footsteps and Daemons’ echo along the stone corridor as you walk through Maegor’s Holdfast.
“And if you knew me better?” Daemon questions, his voice full of excitement as he gives you a cheeky smile.
“I… I believe I hear my septa calling for me-”
Before you can get too far, Daemon catches you by the wrist, stopping you gently. You gasp softly, lips parting in surprise as you turn back to face him, gazing up into his lilac eyes. The two of you stand close to each other, almost inappropriately so. Daemon’s gaze moves downward, admiring the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the way your breasts strain against the bodice of your dress. You’re so beautiful. So ripe for the taking. A lady of your beauty, your kindness and innocence, you don’t deserve to be the second wife of a second son. You deserve a life of luxury. You deserve nothing less than Prince Daemon.
“Please, allow me to walk with you until we reach her?”
You nod slowly, taking his arm again, the two of you continuing to make your way through the Keep. The silence is not uncomfortable, but there is certainly a tension between you two. What kind of tension it is on your end remains to be seen, but judging by the way your eyes dart over to take in Daemon’s side profile every few minutes, he believes your thoughts of him to be favorable indeed.
“What is Casterly Rock like, my lady?” Daemon asks, noting the way you glance around the corridor at everything, taking it all in, “I have heard the Westerlands are quite beautiful, though I’ve never had the opportunity to visit myself.”
You immediately begin rambling to him about how wonderful the Westerlands are, how calm and temperate. Daemon loves the way you speak, your voice so gentle and yet so vibrant and full of life when you speak on things that interest you. He listens intently as you describe your home, growing up there with your little twin brothers, the shining sun and green grass as far as the eye can see. And when you suggest that he visit there when he is able, he gives you a little smirk.
“Oh, do I have my lady’s invitation?”
Daemon wonders if you know how beautiful you look with your lips parted in surprise at his forwardness. He wonders if you know how much he longs to gather you in his arms and kiss those sweet lips, to touch your soft body, to run his hands through your hair. But he must bide his time. He must make sure that when he takes you that the two of you will not be interrupted.
Or that if you are, it is by the right person.
So, he escorts you to your septa, giving a low bow at the waist, before declaring that he looks forward to seeing you at dinner that evening.
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Daemon watches you intently as you try to make conversation with Ser Otto. You are so sweet and gentle, and so very naive as you try to ask about his taste in music, in fine art. But Ser Otto has no appetite for the finger things in life. Not like Daemon does. As far as Daemon is concerned, all Otto cares for is the advancement of his own family at the expense of everyone else’s. He’ll likely breed you then toss you aside when he has no further use for you.
Daemon, on the other hand? He would keep you by his side. His precious, innocent lady wife. He would treat you like a princess, the way you’ve been treated your whole life. Otto doesn’t know how lucky he is, being betrothed to a woman like you. And he is never going to know what it is like being married to you. Not if Daemon has anything to say about it.
You seem so dreadfully bored, that he has no choice but to come to your rescue. You’re busy poking at the venison on your plate, an adorable pout on your face when he comes to you.He has no doubt in his mind that you’re terribly disillusioned with the utter bore your betrothed has turned out to be. Daemon rests a hand on your shoulder, startling you ever so slightly as he leans in to whisper in your ear.
“Have you heard of my family’s tapestries, my lady? As a patron of the arts, I believe they would be of great interest to you. If you are finished with your meal, perhaps we might go and view them in the gallery together?”
You smile at him brightly, “Nothing would make me happier, my prince.”
The two of you make your way to the gallery, and Daemon presents the first piece to you. A nude woman being embraced by a dragon, its body coiled around hers. He half expects you to be disgusted at the sight, but instead? You gaze upon it serenely, almost thoughtful as you question him what he believes it represents.
“Passion,” Daemon murmurs, “Fire.”
“I agree,” you smile at him, “You are an artist at heart, my prince.”
“Perhaps one day, I could paint a picture of the two of us like this, my lioness,” he teases, reveling in the way your lips part in shock at his forward nature as he leans in close to you, one of his hands caressing the side of your face, “Have you ever had a man desire you before, Lady Lannister? Ever felt his lips upon your own? That ache between your thighs as your fingers wander late at night and you fantasize about his body on top of yours?”
You shake your head, your voice trembling as you whisper, “I… I cannot say that I have, Your Grace.”
“Hm,” Daemon hums, his free hand grabbing you by the waist, pulling your body flush up against his, “Otto Hightower is a fool. You are a goddess among women. The Maiden in human form. And you ought to be worshiped like a goddess. You ought to be kissed every minute of every day along every inch of that perfect body.”
You gasp softly, melting into his embrace as he holds you close, pinning you against the wall. Your fingers twist in the fabric of his tunic as he brings his lips close to yours, his breath hot against your face as he whispers.
“Let me teach you what it is to be loved by a man, my lioness. What it is to be loved by a dragon.”
“But there are more tapestries…” You reply breathily, glancing down the hall.
“You don’t truly believe I brought you here to look at those, do you?”
His lips come crashing down against yours, and just as a dragon would, Prince Daemon seeks to devour you. The sweetness of your lips against his, the way your body curves against his and fits so perfectly… It’s enough to have his cock straining against his breeches. You cling to him, your soft whimpers spurring him on as you kiss him back feverishly. Daemon’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently. He chuckles at the soft moan you let out at the feeling, his hands moving lower and lower, lifting the skirt of your dress enough to slide his hand beneath your small clothes.
The prince cups your mound, fingers collecting the wetness that has pooled between your thighs from his kiss alone. You stare up at him with wide eyes as he pushes two fingers inside you, curving them slightly. Your wet heat squeezes his fingers as he moves them in and out of you at a languid pace, admiring the way your face twists in pleasure at his ministrations.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “Let me teach you what true pleasure is. This is only the beginning. I have so much more in store for you.” You let out a mewl of his name, the heel of his palm pressed against your swollen pearl as he fucks you with his fingers, “I’ll taste that sweet, wet little cunny of yours. And then, on the night I wed you, I’ll breed you. I’ll keep you a maiden till then, tease you until you beg for me. You’ll beg for my cock, my fingers, my tongue, anything I’m willing to give you. I’ll spill my seed inside your cunt and your belly will grow round with my babe. I’ll breed you on our wedding night and every night thereafter.”
Daemon grins at the way your body tightens at his words, the effect he has on you being so very visceral in nature. He knows you’re close, judging by your heavy breathing, that glazed over look in your eyes, your lashes fluttering as he rubs against that spot deep inside you. The one you’ve always shied away from and never touched, the pads of his fingers moving against it furiously until you cry out his name, spilling yourself all over his fingers.
The two of you return to the dining table, flushed, sweaty, hair in disarray. Ser Otto stares at the two of you suspiciously, especially when you gasp as Daemon licks his fingers clean.
As far as anyone at the table knows, he was merely savoring the food he just ate.
But in truth? The Rogue Prince is thinking about the meal he’s going to have every night for the rest of his life. For he has every intention of stealing you away tonight to Dragonstone and wedding you in the tradition of his ancestors.
He, unlike Ser Otto, knows how to appreciate the finer things in life.
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kentosbabes · 10 months
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CEO Toji who hires you as his personal assistant as soon as you step through his office doors. As soon as he looks up at you his breath hitches, you're wearing a blouse that exposes the top of the black lace bra you wear underneath, and you keep pulling down the bottom of your skirt that stops mid-thigh. Your glasses are pushed up to your nose as you look at him so innocently through the lenses.
CEO Toji who doesn't waste any time before saying "You're hired". His rough hand finds you back as he guides you through the glass doors and into your new office, which joins with his. He shows you the ropes of what he wants from you, keeping him on schedule, talking to clients, and completing overall admin tasks etc.
CEO Toji who now can't wait to come to work even though he doesn't show it. As soon as he walks through the front doors of the building, you hand him his morning coffee and go through his schedule for the day with a bright smile on your face. He just smirks down at you watching as you practically have to run to catch up to him as he takes big steps compared to your much smaller ones.
CEO Toji who adores how flustered you get when he calls you pet names. "I have the report you asked for, sir" The words leave your mouth so innocently, but he can't help the bulge in his trousers that begins to make itself present. "thank you pretty girl" his words making your cheeks flush red as you hand him over the papers.
CEO Toji who cant help but stare at you. The view from his desk provides the perfect view of you as you work. He can't hold back the thoughts that plague his mind every time he looks at you. His eyes trail from the curls that fall down your back to the way your back curves and your ass sticks out as you type on your computer. Your glasses falling down your nose and your red lips moving as you pick up the phone.
CEO Toji who hasn't felt this way since his ex-wife was around. He hates the feeling he gets when he sees you talking to Gojo the owner of one of his rival companies. He can't take his eyes off the way your hand grabs onto Gojo's shoulder as you laugh at his jokes, and how Gojo places a soft kiss on your knuckle as he leaves your office flashing a wink to Toji before leaving.
CEO Toji who for the first time in ages takes off his wedding ring every time he sees you. Although his ex-wife wasn't the best and he was the one to divorce her, he always kept on the ring yet he had the urge to destroy it whenever you were in his line of sight.
CEO Toji who admires how kind you are and how easily you're able to make people feel comfortable in your presence. He can't stop the smile that covers his face as he sees you offering doughnuts to your co-workers after a long week. "Hi sir, would you like one?" you ask softly looking up at him, his eyes pierce into yours. "call me Toji love," he says before grabbing a doughnut and biting into it.
CEO Toji who just thinks about how sweet you would taste as he bites into the doughnut. He imagines how your lips would taste of strawberries and sugar, and your soft skin would have a hint of coco as he kisses up your neck. but for now the sweet doughnut will have to do.
CEO Toji who cant help but blur the lines between you two. He sees the glances you give him as he paces up and down his office and how your eyes fix on his lips as he talks to you in the morning. After his last meeting he heads back to his office assuming no one would be there, yet he sees your desk light on as you sit on the couch with your laptop on your thighs presumably still working.
CEO Toji who strolls into your office with a smirk "You waiting for me sweet girl?" he asks watching as you squeal with shock. "sir I didn't know you were back yet" you let out, placing your laptop beside you, and walking towards him. "Toji, please call me Toji no need for formalities ma" You nod your head letting out a quick "Sorry sir" which makes him chuckle.
CEO Toji who places his hand on your cheek bringing your eyes up to meet his. His hands are rough and his hair is a little messy, probably from running his fingers through it from stress. "you're a real cutie aint ya" he says moving your chin slightly to get a proper look at you in the dim lighting. "so pretty" he mumbles his face inching closer to yours "you want it?" you only give him a quick nod, as you practically pool at his feet in his touch.
CEO Toji who tastes of cigarettes and a hint of whiskey as he kisses you. The kiss is rough and sloppy but you don't mind. Your much softer and sweeter lips struggle to match his pace. The mewls and whimpers you let out as he kisses you has him going crazy inside. You want to stop and question what this all means but the way his hands grip on your waist and his lips suck on your own has you too dizzy to think of anything else but him
-repost of this because the tags weren't working for a week and have finally been fixed :)
Part 2 here
Masterlist
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cosmignon · 7 months
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My absolute favorite thing about the Pikmin series after growing up only knowing it from smash bros is learning how much of a family man/wife guy Olimar is. I didn't even know he TALKED until like last year but now I would die for this tiny little family.
*blows a kiss down at the dirt* for Captain Olimar
(as a side note, I've experienced Pikmins 2,3, and 4 by watching the Frankenbugs Streams, which are very fun go check them out! Pikmin 4 playlist is here)
all image descriptions below cut:
ID #1: Various sketches of Olimar both in his normal state and leafified. As a leafling, Olimar is thinking "DANDORI" with the faint underlying thought "I miss my wife and kids". As a normal hocotatian Olimar is doing various things: leading his pikmin while thinking "Sometimes I wonder if the pikmin are just using me..." as the pikmin chant "dad, dad, dad" in their own language; holding a pikmin like a baby while thinking of his son and "Remember to support the neck"; Almost eating a pikmin in a tired stupor because he thinks it's a pikpik carrot, then hugging it and saying "SORRY! Sorry lil buddy my bad,," as other pikmin look on and "all want hugs now". End ID.
ID #2: Sketches of Olimar looking in a mirror and expressing surprise when he notices his hair is bright red, a lingering side-effect of being a leafling. He turns away and scratches his head as he mutters "...guess I have always told my wife I like redheads..." Additionally, sketches of leafling Olimar scratching his wife's face into the waxy exterior of a berry. End ID.
ID #3: A sketch of Olimar wearing classic disco clothes as he dances closer to his wife and a friend of hers. End ID.
ID #4: 2 sketches captioned by excerpts from Olimar's treasure entries in Pikmin 4. The first sketch is Olimar's wife wearing a hat, next to a screenshot of the berry the hat is based on, captioned "an uncanny resemblance to my wife wearing a hat." The second sketch is a younger Olimar (labled "smol Olimar, or smolimar") wearing a black leather jacket and subsequently getting extremely hot under the sun, captioned "turns out wearing a leather jacket during the peak of a Hocotate summer is a shortcut to getting a heat stroke." End ID.
ID #5: 4 sketches captioned by excerpts from Olimar's teasure entries in Pikmin 4. The first sketch is Olimar and his wife dressed for their wedding day, happily gazing up at an extravagent space themed wedding cake, captioned "At our wedding, our friends gave my wife and me a spaceship-shaped cake that looked a lot like this one." The second sketch is Olimar and his wife sitting on a suspended porch swing as his wife holds their swaddled newborn, captioned "When my first child was born, my wife and I would sit outside in the warm spring weather and take turns rocking him in our arms." The third sketch is Olimar's son as a baby honking his big nose, captioned "But once he knew the distinctive shape of my nose, he recognized me right away." The fourth sketch is Olimar's family playing Monopoly, his wife obviously being the leading player of the game while his children watch Olimar struggle to keep up, captioned "This pattern always reminds me of our family game nights." End ID.
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eleganzadellarosa · 2 months
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pairing: newlywed!mingyu x newlywed!fem reader
genre: SMut 😏 and fluff
warnings: MDNI (kinda drunk sex? definitely pussy drunk Gyu, dacryphilia, overstimulation, pleasuredom! gyu, size kink (it’s obvious), daddy kink, breeding kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism? slight dumbification, pet names (baby, angel, princess, pretty))
word count: 1.8K+
A/N: just a lil something because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading :)
For better, for worse
In sickness and in health
Till death do us part
The words flowed so naturally between the both of you, waiting for this day to come after being engaged for a year. It’s not like you weren’t used to kissing him, but this kiss was special. A kiss that only happened once if things went well. A kiss to be cherished for the rest of your lives.
Everything had gone according to plan, the day was absolutely perfect. Mingyu was your soulmate, you clicked the first time you met and the rest was history. He knew you like the back of his hand and vice versa. You never thought you’d find someone like him, but now he was yours till death did you part.
There was something so seductive and attractive about knowing you were his and him, yours. A promise of loyalty and love. He sat across from you sipping on his third bottle of soju, looking absolutely ravishing. He ditched the suit jacket and tie that he had worn just a few hours earlier and the first few buttons of his white collared shirt were undone.
Maybe it was the vibes of today or the amount of shots you downed, but the way he looked had you feeling feral. It came from deep within, like the only thing that would help is if he fucked you so hard you would feel it in your throat.
“Whatcha staring at angel?”
His words snapped you out of it, his voice not helping your problem. His chest peaked through the open fabric, so tan…you wanted to run your tongue over it. He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of your face.
“Baby, come talk to me.” He patted his left thigh, beckoning you over. Was he really going to have you sit on his lap out in public?
You shakily stood from your seat, thighs rubbing together to hopefully do anything to stop this agonizing throb. He looked up at you but just barely due to his tall stature. You sat down, his arm wrapping around your waist and his hand softly patting your butt.
“What’s going on pretty? What’s on your mind hmm?” He planted a kiss on your lips, patiently waiting for you to answer.
You could easily just tell him the issue and he would immediately take you home to fix it. Yet, the feeling was so overwhelming that even him doing nothing, his cologne filling your nose, had you dripping wet.
He ran his other hand under your dress and up your thigh, making you pant. “Just as I thought. Need Daddy to get you out of here?”
You nodded as you played with the collar of his shirt, a blush creeping on your cheeks. He quickly called the waiter for the bill as you returned to your seat. You gathered up your things as Mingyu paid and followed him to the car. He opened the door for you like the gentleman he is and even leaned in to buckle your seatbelt.
He got in on the other side, smirking when he saw your hands pressed together between your thighs. God why was this so hard? You were on the way to the hotel Mingyu rented out for the two of you; all you had to do was wait.
He saw how desperate you looked as you tried your very best to contain the pulse running through your pussy. Mingyu thinks you’re so cute when you get this horny and he loved being the one to fix it for you. There was a red light and a few cars in front when the idea popped in his mind.
“Lay your seat back and spread your legs for me angel.”
You looked over at him confused, only because your mind didn’t fully register what he said. Your body started to move when his hand worked your dress up your legs. You’d already changed out of your wedding dress for the reception and opted for something shorter and more form fitting.
You followed his orders and laid the seat back slightly and spread your legs wide, or as much as the car would allow. He licked his lips and moved your panties to the side. You could’ve made him crash with the way your pussy glistened under the passing street lights. You were absolutely soaked.
No need to wet his fingers before hand, being able to plunge two thick fingers inside you with the utmost ease. Your jaw fell slack, a moan escaping your lips.
“Fuck baby you almost made Daddy crash, you’re so wet.”
You looked over at him with heavy lids. He tried so hard to keep his eyes on the road, but you had a tight grip on his arm as you bucked your hips up to ride his hand. You were moaning and whimpering with how good it felt at this angle and with the width of his fingers. He pumped them faster, feeling your walls contract and your pussy leak more slick.
“Be a good girl for Daddy and cum on his fingers.”
He used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s what does it. Your whole body tensed up and you let out breathy moans as you came down from your high. You hadn’t noticed you were parked in the hotel lot until you see Mingyu turned in his seat watching you.
“Gyu, I…I need more.” You clawed at his arm desperately and his brows furrowed.
“Trust me, with how hard you have me right now, I wouldn’t want anything else.”
He sucked your juices off his digits and quickly got out the car to rush and open your door. He helped you fix your dress and kissed your forehead as he lead you to the check-in desk. The hotel looked fancy from the outside so you could only imagine what the rooms looked like.
Not even two seconds after you walked in did he have you in his arms bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. Guess a room tour would have to wait. He laid you down on the edge of the bed gently and sunk down on his knees. He tugged on the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs. He pressed your legs apart, big strong arms holding you in place.
“Look at this pretty pussy all for me…” he was in complete awe of how tasty you looked. If there was one thing he loved doing, it was eating you out. You tasted better than anything he’s ever had, Mingyu thinks.
He licked a fat, long stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your legs tried to move down but he was not letting up on his grip. He was eating you out so messily, spitting and licking everything back up; fingers playing with your leaking hole. He slurped on your clit then moved down to fuck his tongue into you, his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves.
Your chest heaved as you cried out his name, hands tangling in his dark locks. Your ears picked up on how he moaned too, you know he was having the time of his life. You felt that familiar tightness in your stomach, signaling your orgasm was coming soon. You were tugging on his hair now, ripping deep groans from him.
“G-gyu gonna cum!” Your head felt fuzzy. You were almost sure you were going to faint from the pleasure.
As impossible as it sounded, he felt himself get harder. “Go ahead pretty, cum all over my tongue.”
A few more curls of his fingers and sucks on your clit, you came violently on his face. He stopped after you settled down and stood up, chin glistening. It was him now who felt like he couldn’t wait any longer. He removed his clothes and yours after. He pushed you up further on the bed and rested his hips in between your legs. His dick felt warm and heavy against you and you were already just as turned on as you were a few minutes ago.
“You’re so beautiful baby, I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he rolled his hips into you. He looked down as he slowly inserted his dick in you, moaning at the feeling of your walls so tight around him. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can go slow, you feel too good.”
“Don’t go slow, fuck me dumb Gyu.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He set a vicious pace from the start, stretching you out deliciously. No matter how many times you had sex with him, he seemed to never fail to open you up. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, not able to reach anything else with how wide his body is.
If he’d known how intoxicated you would have him, he wouldn’t have drank so much soju. You were his everything, his world, his partner for life. You looked so gorgeous underneath him, writhing in pleasure from his deep and fast thrusts. He hoped this feeling never faded and you loved him as much as you do now for always and forever.
You sounded so pretty whimpering and stuttering out his name. Your knees were back at your chest as he pinned you under his large frame, making you feel so small in comparison. This new angle had him hitting new depths. He maintained eye contact as he moaned and sped up this thrusts. You weren’t sure how much longer you would last. Your mind was slowly going blank the more he pressed down into you.
“S-so good Gyu, feels so good. W-wanna cum for D-daddy. Can I please cum?”
He noticed but the feeling hadn’t settled in your mind yet; tears were rolling down your cheeks. He never admitted it but this expression made you look ethereal. Mingyu loved seeing you cry from being fucked dumb on his dick. How did he get so lucky?
“My pretty princess…of course, fuuuck- today is your special day, you can cum as much as you want. I’ll give it to you all night.”
“Fill me up Gyu, wanna feel it in my tummy.”
His head was spinning; you were his kryptonite. His thrusts became sloppy, preparing for his release. “Want Daddy to fill you with his seed? Make your belly big with his baby?”
You looked at him with teary eyes, nodding frantically. How could he not cum seeing that? He shoved his fat dick deep in you, cumming in spurts as he felt you reach your climax with him. Your body was spasming against his, milking him for every drop. He pulled out slowly to watch his cum drip out. He scooped it up with his fingers and fucked it back into you, your pussy clenching from the sensitivity.
He got out of the bed to fetch a warm cloth to clean off the both of you before pulling you close to him under the blanket. You were already dozing off by the time he got settled but you know he’d be following close behind.
“Gyu?” You continued when he looked down at you with a hum. “Thank you for making today the best day ever.”
He sighed contently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything for my amazing wife.”
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utahimeow · 4 months
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even death will not do us part — satoru gojo
summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.
pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader
warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship
word count — 3.9k
author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol
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After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.
Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.
“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep. 
You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.
“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.
For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk. 
“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory. 
He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.
It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.
Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.
“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief. 
“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest. 
“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.
“Did what?” you ask.
“Got married.”
Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”
“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”
Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.
“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses. 
“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”
You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.
“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.
You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do. 
“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 
He does just that. 
“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”
He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed. 
You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.
After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.
“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does. 
“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him. 
“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery. 
Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.
You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.
Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.
He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. 
He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love. 
He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.
“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern. 
You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. 
He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.
As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you. 
“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask. 
His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow. 
“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”
You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”
The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.
“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.
Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.
Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.
Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not. 
After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures. 
Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.
Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.
During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you. 
“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”
There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being. 
The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.
Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible. 
Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.
When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.
Beside him, you bow too.
“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”
“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.
“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”
The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.
The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.
“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.
“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”
You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.
The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time. 
“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”
Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.
Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.
“That one?” he asks. 
You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.
Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan. 
After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.
From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.
Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.
“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.
“Nothing. Are you hungry?” 
“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.
“Sushi Go?” 
“Please.” 
The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.
After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.
“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.
You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes. 
“It’s a little big, but I love it.”
“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”
“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.
“Just spoiled,” he corrects.
You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.
“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.
“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”
Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”
“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.
His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.
Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care. 
You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.
Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.
He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.
When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.
Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.
Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.
Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.
dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both
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crashtestbunny · 22 days
Text
(f!reader)
Johnny Soap MacTavish who is the best man at the wedding you're invited to. Who looks downright mouthwatering in his red and blue kilt.
Johnny who buys you a drink at the bar and asks if you've ever had sex with a man in a kilt. No? Wanna have a go?
Johnny who has your legs worn around his neck like a necklace while he eats you out in a bathroom stall. He's already made you cum three times, his chin is covered in your pussy. His thumb is rubbing your clit as his nose is buried into your folds, tongue lapping over the eager hole as he coaxes that fourth orgasm out of you.
Johnny who returns to the reception, using scotch as his mouthwash, and takes to the dance floor to do rock the boat.
Johnny who sits at a table in the corner, legs spread wide under the table cloth as he chats to the other groomsmen. He's commando under that kilt you found out, but not to worry, you have him covered: On your knees under the table as your lips spread around his pretty, girthy cock.
Johnny who's strong legs lock you in as he adjusts himself in his seat, forcing his cock down your eager throat as saliva pools around the bottom of your mouth, leaking out down your chin onto the floor. You lick the underside of the shaft up to the slit, bobbing your head eagerly as you abuse the back of your mouth. Nothing prepares you for the way he shoots thick ropes right down your throat, a firm leg over over shoulder and locking you into place.
Johnny who dances with you when Dancing Queen inevitably comes on.
Johnny who has you invited to his hotel room, naked and on all fours as his strong hands grip your hips in a vice like manner. He's bent over, strong, hairy chest pressed to your back, slick sweaty skin gliding against one another as he pounds into you. The only relief from the way his hips brutally smack into your ass is that he's still wearing that kilt.
Johnny who grips your hair and forces you to look into the hotel mirror, watch yourself as this man takes you, his face twisted in a way that would speak of agony as he chases his orgasm. Your eyes roll back when you feel him bottom out, filling you up.
"That's it lass, take it all, donnae wanna get me kilt dirty." He would praise.
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Okay can I request wedding headcannon to reader for Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor Adam and Lucifer? I need some fluffiness in my life right now
A/n: YES!!!!
Angel Dust will be paired with a male!reader
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•Angel Dust•
You were the one to propose to Angel Dust, it happened on the day you were able to free him from his contract.
Angel Dust breaks down, he's never felt more safe than he did in your arms.
Uses Anthony, it feels right to use his name when he is marry you.
Charlie officiated the ceremony,her words spoke of redemption, love, and the power of choice. She reminded everyone that love transcends boundaries—even those between Heaven and Hell.
You and Angel Dust stood before the alter with your eyes locked, Angel's voice cracked as he recited his vows promising to love you through eternity. Your sweet voice followed, promising to heal Angel’s scars and cherish him forever.
Husk raised a glass to you both with a grin on his face. "About damn time."
You two met with a kiss, the kiss tasted of redemption, forgiveness and love. The guests erupted in applause, and even the demons shed a tear or two.
As newlyweds, you and Alastor danced your first dance on a cloud conjured by Lucifer. Your steps were light, Angel Dust's laughter echoed through out the room.
The wedding cake was a masterpiece,a tiered creation with silver fondant wings and red rose petals. As they cut into it, confetti exploded, and chaos ensued. Husk downed a shot, Lucifer blamed Alastor as Vaggie twirled Charlie.
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•Husk•
Husk proposed late one night, drunk. He was scared you'd leave him. Find someone better, he stood in silence as you said yes.
The wedding took place in the ballroom of the Hazbin Hotel, the room was adorned with crimson and gold drapes, flickering candles, and ethereal flowers.
The guests, a mix of demons, fallen angels, and curious souls, gather in anticipation.
A haunting melody of a violin fills the air as you walked down the aisle.
Husk, in a tailored suit with a single red rose pinned to his lapel, awaits for you at the altar.
Your voice soft, you gave the man you love a smile as you recited your vows “Husk, you are my redemption. Your gruff exterior hides a tender heart. I promise to cherish your flaws and love you unconditionally.”
Then Husk recited his own. "you’re my light in this chaotic realm. Your kindness heals my scars. I vow to protect you, even from my own demons.”
Your closest friend Angel Dust gave you a teary-eyed smile as he raised a glass: “To Y/n and Husk! May their love be as wild as a demon’s dance and as tender as an angel’s touch.”
You and Husk sway to a haunting waltz.The room holds its breath as they twirl, your love defying fate.
The wedding cake held White roses intertwine with black orchids.
You feed Husk a delicate slice, and he smudges frosting on your nose playfully.
As the clock strikes midnight, you and Husk share a kiss another. It tastes of redemption and second chances.
The room erupts in cheers, and even the walls seem to hum with joy.
Husk whisks you away for a little pre-honeymoon fun.
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•Alastor•
The Wedding of you and Alastor took place in Hazbin Hotel Courtyard.The courtyard is adorned with crimson roses and obsidian candles.
You descend the grand staircase, your gown—a blend of ethereal silk and charred lace—trails behind you a veil conceals your face, but your eyes—resolute and curious—betray your emotions.
Alastor awaits for you at the alter, his top hat tilted. His crimson suit is impeccably tailored, and his cane rests against his shoulder. His gaze never wavers from the staircase.
You smile up at your fiancé, light tears in your eyes as you finish your vows I choose you, Alastor.”
Alastor states his own oath“I, Alastor, relinquish my darkness. For you, Y/n, I’d trade my infernal powers.”His words echo through the damned souls, who watch in awe.
Your lips meet, a deep kiss. Alastor holding you tight afraid you might slip away.
Niffty supplying the treats, sinner themed pastries adorn the dessert table. Angel Dust sneaks a cupcake, giving you a wink.
For your first dance, you and Alastor swayed to a waltz.
Sinners gossip. Charlie smiles, Vox scowls as Husk grumbles about the open bar.
You Whisper: “To redemption,” she adds, and Alastor’s grip tightens.
You and Alastor sneak away to the roof top for a moment alone.
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•Adam•
Much to his disappointment, the wedding takes place in the grand cathedral of the Hazbin Hotel which it is then transformed into a celestial sanctuary. Stained glass windows depict scenes from both Heaven and Hell, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor.
The guests, a mix of angels, demons, and curious souls, gather in awe.
The ethereal melody of harps fills the air as you walk down the aisle.
Adam, in a pristine white robe, awaits for you at the altar, his eyes reflecting both duty and longing.
Your vows are with love, and Adam does his best to keep things PG.
Archangel Michael steps forward, his wings spanning the aisle. His voice resonates through the halls.“May your love transcend realms, Adam and Y/n. May it heal the wounds of Heaven and Hell.”
You and Adam waltz gracefully, your steps echoing the celestial dance of creation your love story unfolds in each twirl—a delicate balance between duty and desire.
The cake, a fusion of angelic white and infernal crimson, stands tall. Feathers and flames intertwine.
You feed Adam a delicate slice, and he smiles, savoring the sweetness of your union.
Adam pulls you into a passionate kiss, his whispers a promise of nothing but love
You and Adam exit the cathedral,the guests hold their breath, witnessing the union of realms
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•Lucifer Morningstar•
The wedding takes place in a cathedral in the heart of Hell that stood adorned with twisted ironwork and flickering candles. The air hummed with anticipation as demons,and lost souls gathered to witness an unprecedented event.
The setting of the cathedral’s stained glass windows depicted scenes of redemption and damnation, casting colorful patterns on the cold stone floor. Row of crimson velvet pews awaited the guests, their eyes filled with curiosity and skepticism.
You walked down the aisle your gown flowed like liquid silver, and your eyes held a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lucifer stood at the alter, his black suit was impeccably tailored, and his crimson eyes bore both mischief and longing.The Devil’s presence commanded attention, and the room fell silent.
Your voice quivered as you recited your vows..
Lucifer’s own voice cracking as he recited his own.
As you lent in for your first kiss, the cathedral’s candles flared, casting shadows on the walls.
The reception hall was a decadent affair. Demons danced with fallen angels, as lost souls clinked glasses.
Your laughter echoed as you twirled with Lucifer, your steps defying gravity.
Vox, the media mogul, smirked. “A match made in Hell. Ratings will soar!”
You swayed in Lucifer’s arms, your head resting on his chest as you looked up at him
“Why me?” You whispered.
Lucifer’s eyes softened. “Because you see the light even in Hell.”
The stars above flickered, and Lucifer kissed your forehead. “Together, we’ll rewrite the cosmic order.”
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723 notes · View notes
shooting-love-arrows · 5 months
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Omg im so in love with househusband,he is sl adorable i wanna keep him in my pocket and protect him from the world!!!!
Does househusband have an official name? And if rq are open yet,how would he be like with a spouse that can be very protective and possessive with him?
- 🌟 anon
Dear 🌟 anon,
Well, you certainly can keep him in his pocket! He wouldn't mind one bit. (He'll crawl there at any given ti —) As for now, he doesn't have an official name.
@shooting-love-arrows
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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 with overprotective/possessive! reader
PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [OVERPROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE] reader (gender not specified) Tw. reader is a walking red flag, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, questionable things
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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The moment you said your wedding vows, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 pledged to wholly belong to you. His body, mind, soul and everything that made him well…him.
What I mean is that he probably expects you to be overprotective/possessive over him. In his eyes, it means that you care, love and crave him just like he does you. Besides, those books 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 read in his early youth always implied that your partner should act like that as it’s a clear sign of their strong affection.
In conclusion, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 definitely doesn’t mind your behavior/personality and in fact finds it endearing. He becomes compliant when it comes to you so he has no problem accepting how you act towards him. In fact, he finds it sweet and he hopes you’ll continue doing so <3
✿ BONUS ✿
Some of his favorite you do because of your possessiveness/overprotectiveness:
Marking him. There are many ways to mark one's territory but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 likes it the most when you give him love-bites (hiskeys). Although it’s considered highly inappropriate to leave marks where others can see them, he likes them to be on his throat, especially just above the pearls you gave him. It was a clear sign to everyone that he was off the limits. And he has something to gossip about with his besties in the club (they're definitely jealous and wish to be in his place but shhh! That’s a secret.).
“Is…” A nameless househusband lowered his voice and leaned in closer to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 “A love bite?” “Yes” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 out his chest and raised his head higher, proudly displaying the fresh hickey you made this morning.
Make him match his clothes with you. It began long at the very early stage of your courting. On your first date, when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 came dressed in his best outfit which unfortunately wasn’t matching yours, you wrinkled your nose and told him: “this won’t do”. And so you took him into one of the most luxurious clothing shots, where you choose his outfit so it would be matching yours. Right there and then, he was ready to propose and get married. 
Your interrogations. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 loves sharing information with you about his day in detail. Every question thrown his way, he’ll answer honestly. He has no problem telling you who he was with? What was he doing? Did someone bother him? Might I say, sometimes he’ll stretch the truth just to make you jealous and let your possessiveness/overprotectiveness shine. Especially when he feels horny and just wants you to ravage him on the spot.
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adonis-koo · 3 months
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wicked • 18
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↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?
↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader
↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut
Word Count: 12k
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tags: oral (f), tiddie sucking…love kink?, teasing, vaginal fingering, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting (yeah…), soft dom!kook, loss of virginity, penetrative sex, it doesn’t fit, but only for a moment, size kink,  possessiveness, multiple positions, slight spanking, corruption kink if you squint, creampies (wrap it before you tap it, condoms don’t exist in this au so…yknow)
Note: this chapter was not supposed to be so horny but the brain insisted 💅
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Chapel bells could be heard, a somber cry of the hazy day ahead, you sniffled trying to get the smell of ash out of your nose, squinting as you glanced through the cracked tent, the sky tinted and hazy.
You didn’t remember the sun looking quite that color, it was distorted from normal, another bell chimed and you could hear the camp from even this distant, a crackle of the fire and a sob.
“Focus!” Baba Enàir slapped the stick in front of your desk making you jump.
“Sorry Baba.”
“You can say sorry to all the folks who rely on your hands to save their kin,” Her eyes glowered down at you, “As for me, you will do good and well to pay attention.”
Your lips twitched as you stared down at your desk, eyes slowly squinting into a glare before briefly glancing behind her once more towards the open flap of the tent where you watched the girls, hands all joined skipping in a circle.
“Why can’t I be excused?” 
Baba Enair’s eyes followed yours as she sighed, perhaps taking pity on you, though if she did her eyes didn’t show it. 
“You are the Princess of Eunoia, the people look to you for hope, not the court girls.” Baba Enair replied, “Your dryad blood allows you to heal in a way other girls cannot, that other people cannot. It isn’t fair, but it’s for the war, the amount of lives you can save alone compares to ten of the court girls. It’s imperative that your skill is honed. Now focus once more.”
You sighed, you had heard the same reason again and again, one day you hoped it would finally mean something to you though, today however, was not that day.
Regardless of how you felt, you stuck your hands back into the moon water, a small beautiful red fish, evidentially dying as it struggled to swim around. 
You closed your eyes.
“Now start your three part breath, calm your mind.” Baba Enair instructed.
You took a deep breath from your stomach, slowly expanding it to your chest and then your throat, finally letting it exhale, after a few more breaths you began to speak.
“Ni esta- upon I cemen, eless- mama na- laiva,” 
“Louder.” Baba Enair commanded.
“Let your coiv- mauime- celusse minna -yes’s eala-“ you winced as you yanked your hands from the water, the water boiling and your lips parting, feeling a piece of your heart crack at the fish, no longer swimming, but floating.
Your eyes watered as your lips trembled, you wanted him to have a peaceful passing, but all you caused was pain…
Baba Enair slapped the stick on your table, “You were too fast, too hasty! Rushing your studies will only make them last longer. Save your tears child, you will have much to cry for if you cannot even heal a fish.”
Your eyes only closed letting the tears stream down your face, the scene shifted, the tent no longer over you, but the sky above.
Thick with clouds of ash and the fire raged on, the sickening smell of death in the air, people groaning in agony and cries of mourning.
“How could you let him die you bitch! He was only a child!”
Your mouth was ajarred as you took an unsteady step back, “I’m- I’m sorry but I tried everything-“ the tent behind you being prepped for the fire, there laid a boy no older than four, a head wound that he had accidentally reopened when he fell down, attempting to play with his friend.
Blood was everywhere, even now covering your hands as tears gathered in your eyes, “I’m sorry.”
The older mother only glared as if you were nothing more than a speck of dirt under her shoe, “You’ve no right to cry!” She screamed out, reaching out as she grabbed your hair making you yelp, “You are no princess of this country! You are nothing! The dryads have abandoned your veins!” 
Guards had already pulled her off but she made sure to shove you down, gravel digging into your palms as sharp jagged pain entered your body.
Tears dripped down your nose as you heard the woman scream and cry, throwing curse words your way only for her voice to be guided elsewhere as her son’s body was carried out of the tent.
Placed into a bag but it was evident he was in there, you glanced at the large bonfire, cowardly. You looked back at the ground, unable to watch them toss his body in.
You heard her wails and cries as the fire burned bright.
And suddenly, it was surrounding you, suffocating you as you cried out, the plead of a child, the skin melting from your hands and-
You gasped, sweat dripping from your body as you sat up in bed, wincing as if something of ash still lingered in your lungs, coughing you grabbed the water carafe from your nightstand, pouring a drink.
Leaning your back against your bed board, it was just a dream…you took a shaky breath, attempting to close your eyes,
‘blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible’
Your eyes shot back open upon being greeted with Di Jin’s dead face.
It had already been difficult to go to sleep, his cold dead face showing up every time you closed your eyes, or in your dreams once you had finally slept. Tonight had been different though, different difficulties deciding to present themselves this time.
All better forgotten nonetheless.
It had only been two days, and yet, it felt as if no time had passed at all, slowly you peeled the covers off yourself, shivering as you grabbed your nightgown cover, putting the long sleeve on as you walked to the door.
The room suddenly felt too closed in, too suffocating, you needed air.
Opening the door, you were greeted with your personal knight Yoongi, his injuries still healing, but he was doing far better than you.
When the unfortunate event of Di Jin and Seohyun showed up, Yoongi had shown up the morning after, bruised and battered, the entire operation of the tower being sieged a guise to bait him out and even better if it killed him, and worst of all it worked. 
Well, the bit to draw him out, but evidently he was still very much alive.
“Your Highness?” Yoongi raised his brows a little, not surprised to see you up, but a little concern evident in his eyes.
“I wish to go for a walk.” Your voice was a quiet croak, shaky even.
“Of course.” Yoongi replied.
“Can it be…as if I were by myself?” Your lips turned into a small frown.
Yoongi gave you a weak smile, “You won’t even notice me.” 
You nodded before walking past him, a little ways ahead before you could only assume he melded into the shadows, trailing behind unseen but still within a safe distance.
The corridors were empty, save for a few guards who bowed for you before giving you no grief, everyone looked at you differently though. 
It was evident in their eyes, the way they all warily kept a distance. 
Once upon a time, you had gotten used to your title, the Bitch of Eunoia.
But now they had all taken to calling you something different, something new, the Blood-Devoured Bitch. It was a hybrid name, both of Penumbrian and Eunoian background, sickening and yet flattering all the same, it suited you, you supposed.
Stepping out into the courtyard you innately shivered, ice cold air penetrated easily past your cover, wrapping your arms around yourself you took a big breath of air.
It’s crisp cool entered your lungs like new life, and for a moment you felt better.
Sitting down on the bench you curled into yourself, and suddenly the weight of your soul felt heavy again, you were so tired. A type of tired that sleep would not make go away.
Staring at the moon, you let its light be your only comfort, surely better days would come.
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Jungkook couldn’t describe his level of worry for you, you had woken up physically fine, a minor wound to your chest where Di Jin had attempted to kill you. But you yourself were not fine.
You looked haunted, any food put in front of you was left untouched, and even if you did eat, you were unable to keep anything down.
Jungkook thought once Wheein was safe, things would get better. But it was clear to him this was hardly the case and what made it worse was you were isolating yourself now, refusing to talk to him or anyone else.
Wheein had desperately wanted to see you but Jungkook firmly sent her back to Skol demanding she take some time to herself, being in the dungeon for the last three weeks was no good for anybody mentally, especially her.
Meanwhile he was left to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened at the estate, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 
He felt horrible, he wanted you to go to the estate because he thought it was safe, but as it turns out, he nearly sent you to your death. He hadn’t pushed the topic with you, left you alone if you didn’t respond.
He just wanted you to be okay, it pained him seeing you like this. 
You felt unreachable, and it made him feel as if he was literally losing his mind.
But tonight was Sunday, the day the family gathered together for dinner, Jungkook’s hopes were low but he could only hope that you would show up, he was worried and even more so at a loss of what to do, or if he could do anything at all.
You killed Di Jin. 
The Eunoian Princess, who had sworn an oath to never kill, who came from a pacifistic nation, who had divine dryad blood running through her veins, killed someone. 
And Jungkook knew you wouldn’t listen to him, it mattered not that you did it in self defense, it didn’t change the fact that you still broke your oath. Dinner had been quiet, nobody talking and this was to be expected, after all, everyone almost murdered your hand maid, you almost died, and then not only killed Di Jin, the kings oldest and dearest friend, but also Seohyun, Jungkook’s old fiancé.
Guards had gone to the estate to clean up the mess only to find her mangled body, torn apart by a wolf- namely yours.
Perhaps it wasn't directly you, but it mattered not, you would still take the guilt.
The doors opened and Jungkook straightened in his seat, you gave a short courtesy before taking your seat next to him, your eyes looked sunken in and it was evident you hadn’t slept a single night. 
Jungkook could feel it clawing at his chest with the urge to do something, anything, but he knew all too well this would be something you would have to reconcile with yourself, in your own time.
Dinner was quiet and his uncle and aunt only murmured conversation, Jungkook could only let out a quiet sigh as he lifted his goblet to his lips, wine almost never solved his problems but it did help him relax. 
“Yes, apparently a wild pack of dogs attacked Vail yesterday,” Jeong Dae’s voice was quiet, Areum’s eyes on him as she took a sip of her wine.
Their voices were the only one’s at the table that have yet to talk, after all they had always managed to keep the conversation going in these awkward events.
You were twirling your soup in its bowl, having not attempted to eat, eyes strictly somewhere between the table and your food.
“Well there needs to be more guards posted in the outer district’s now that this whole assassin business is finished,” Areum replied, leaning back in her chair, “They had four fatality’s which could’ve been prevented with adequate soldiers number’s.”
“Or perhaps we just need better soldiers,” Jeong Dae mused, “Perhaps our War Matron should make her return.”
You finally gathered a spoonful of your soup, watching the steam rise from it’s surface before you pushed it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t trying to stare, but it was difficult to look away when you were having to force every drop of broth down.
Areum scoffed, “Unless war is on the horizon I would rather rot. There was only one guard there, and he was passing through on his patrol.” 
You gathered another spoonful, looking at it once more as if having to mentally prepare yourself. 
“Is a shame though,” Jeong Dae sighed, “It was an absolute mess when I arrived, blood everywhere, one of the poor lad’s had his throat ripped out-”
A loud cough cut off the conversation, all eyes on you as you grabbed your mouth, lurching in your seat as if attempting to not vomit, “Excuse me.” You didn’t even so much as wait for a reply, shoving yourself out of your chair and promptly exiting. 
Jungkook was immediately pushing himself out of his chair, not even saying a word as he quickly followed after you. You probably didn’t want to see him, but he simply couldn’t stand watching you like this. 
He needed to do something, anything. 
“Y/n!” He called out as you rushed down the hall. 
You shook your head as you took a sharp left, going down the stairs towards the cellar, Jungkook quickly stepping down the stairs as he called your name once more. 
It was dark and only candles lit the air, dust could be seen if one got too close, walls of wine and dry goods stored as you turned the corner of a storage wall, weaving towards the very back where surely no one would go. 
Jungkook quickly followed behind, turning the last corner of the storage wall before he sighed out, a dead end with you at the last wall, back still turned but your sobs evident, hands covering your eyes as you tried to regain your breath but struggling to do so. 
It came out in choked wheezes as you coughed and gagged, struggling to calm yourself down, flashes of blood, images of flesh and gore, no matter how many times you washed out your mouth, you could still taste it. 
Raw flesh going down your throat. 
Jungkook finally stopped at your back, unable to find any words, he could only pull you to face him, and he hated it, how it always seemed your face was filled with tears more than smiles, “I can’t get it out!” 
You felt like a helpless child all over again, unable to help yourself let alone anyone else, but you felt so lost, you didn’t know what to do, you had all of these new feelings, all of these new sins you had to carry. 
You let out another sob as Jungkook pulled you in, and you could do nothing but collapse against him as you cried, “I can’t get the taste out! No matter- wh-what I eat, what I drink, I still taste it!” 
Jungkook only soothing hushed you, pressing his lips on top of your head, “I know.” He ushered softly, “I’m sorry.”
His arms wrapped around you tighter as you cried, resting your head into his shoulder, after a few minutes passed you had finally managed to calm your breath into steady.
“I can’t go back, I can’t undo everything I’ve done, I don’t know what to do anymore,” You tried to not weep but the tears slowly began to trickle back down your cheeks as you lamented, “My whole life i’ve been told I’m supposed to save lives,”
You pressed your hands against his jacket, looking up at him, “So why is it, all I ever seem to do is take them?” 
Jungkook tenderly cupped your cheeks in his hands, thumbing the tears away as he pressed his forehead against yours, “I can’t speak for all of your past doings, but I can speak for what happened at the estate, your survival was dependent on your ability to defend yourself. You were forced to do what anybody would do.”
You shook your head in remorse, closing your eyes as you stifled a sob, Jungkook tenderly stroking your cheeks as he continued, “Humans are instinctive creatures, though you are part dryad, it seems violence runs in your veins.” 
You sniffled, “That’s terrifying! You should be terrified. Everyone looks at me differently now, certainly you do as well, I killed the woman who was supposed to be your wife!” 
Jungkook sighed, tenderly tracing your jawline with those long fingers of his, “The only thing that truly terrified me? Was when you walked through those gates covered in blood, and I realized I had unknowingly sent you to your death, unable to be there for you, unable to protect you, failing as a husband. That terrifies me.” 
Your lips trembled as Jungkook’s fingers traced down your neck to your collarbone, “But you? I told you to show me all of you, and that I would take you as you are, my words still stand.” His fingers trailed down the center of your chest, stopping at the covered wound, the mark where Di Jin had attempted to make his finishing blow. 
“How could I be afraid of someone I love?” It was nothing louder than a whisper. 
It caused your gut to wrench as you violently shook your head, “Don’t say that, please don’t say that Jungkook.” You immediately escaped his arms, every step you took back Jungkook closed the gap with another forward. 
“I don’t expect it to be requited, you don’t have to say it back Y/n but I’ve went through all stages of grief about it, I can’t change it,” Jungkook wasn’t backing down though, “I am in love with you and everything I thought I knew about love, everything I thought I knew about women, feelings, all of it, you came into my life and taught me that I was a fool to ever assume as much. I love you.” 
“Stop saying it! Please, you don’t mean that, please don’t say it so easily…”
Your back was pressed against the wall as you shook your head, Jungkook standing tall in front you, delicately leaning down, both his forearms on either side of you as he whispered, “I love you Y/n, and you will not dictate to me whether that is the truth or not. My love for you has been anything but easy, don’t discredit how I feel because I’m the first to admit it.”
“You can’t love me,” You whispered, eyes blurring once more as flashes of Seohyun’s mangled body appeared in your vision. 
“Loving you is like loving the sun,” Jungkook replied softly, “Effortless, and if I’m meant to burn in its light, then I'd die happily in doing so. My precious sun, the light of my life. Let me love you, let me take care of you, let me protect you, let me never leave your side again.”
“Jungkook…”
“I failed you, let you leave my side, sent you to the estate. It’s ultimately my own fault, and I’ll spend the rest of my life redeeming myself for it. But please, don’t punish me anymore,” Jungkook’s eyes sombered, a sort of tender plea in them, “I can’t be apart from you anymore, I’ve tried to give you space, time to think, to heal, but just as you need me, I need you. I need you just like the moon needs the sun.” 
You had no words, unable to speak, overwhelmed by so many different feelings, but one thing you knew for certain was that when you looked at Jungkook, you felt at home. You said nothing, only gently laying your forehead in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him. 
Trying to drown out the voices, the memories in his warmth, you were so terribly homesick, and Jungkook was surely your only remedy to this. 
His arms wrapped around you in return, holding you tightly as he pressed a kiss against your head, “It’s selfish, but please, don’t deny me, love me, lay with me, we’re married, but I want you to be my wife.”
“Take me back to our bedroom.” You whispered to him, curling into his warmth as you shuddered, trying so hard to not let the vivid grotesque images back into your mind. 
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There was nothing quite like the warmth a bath could offer, steaming wafting from heat and dipping your body in made you realize just how chilled you had become throughout the day. Perhaps the best part was sitting perched in your husband’s lap, head laying on his shoulder as he tended to you.
The warmth of the washcloth running along your body, his hands that had easily taken tens if not hundreds of lives tenderly running through your hair as he washed you, he of course didn’t miss the opportunity to feather your neck in kisses. 
“Is this okay?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded wanting nothing more than for him to keep making you forget, you didn’t want to remember anymore. 
Jungkook was still tenderly cleaning you up, lips occasionally going back to your neck with a few gentle kisses and eventually after bathing you both settled in the water, just enjoying one another’s embrace. 
His fingers tracing circles on your back before running down your waist, squeezing your ass for a moment before his hand would return back up your waist, touching you however he wanted, simply because he could. 
It was a comforting gesture, but it was also evident how aroused you both were, every time his hand would dip under the water, it made your body just a little more excited, feeling his hand gripping your flesh tightly, making you shift a little and the first tiniest audible moan escaping your lips. 
You could feel it briefly, his hardened cock resting against his chiseled abdomen, Jungkook’s lips pressed against your neck once more, this time suckling the skin as his other hand trailing down your waist before gripping the other side of your ass. 
A soft moan escaped your lips, making your hips shift, nudging his cock once more making his lips suckle your skin a little harder, he released the skin after a moment, as if not wanting to mark it, “Let me make you feel good, my little sun.”
His fingers digging into your skin, his tongue dragging on your neck, “Please.” You ushered out a small moan. 
Jungkook’s hand’s suddenly grabbed your waist, “Hold on,” He said and you didn’t understand for a moment until he suddenly picked you up, bringing you out of the water, grabbing one of the towels from off the stool he laid it out on the bed to not get it wet before dropping you down. 
The fire crackled on, the only light source in the room, leaving it dark and warm, but the silhouette of Jungkook’s body was still very evident, his hard cock even more so as he stood tall in front of your figure. 
You felt so small in comparison in this moment, but it didn’t last long as Jungkook leaned down, “You’re so perfect.” He whispered, lips pressing into yours as if he could sense your anxiousness, your body was so pliable though, having his hovering over you protectively. You moaned into the kiss, body relaxing as one of his hands found your thighs, pushing them apart tenderly as you opened them for him.
Your cunt was throbbing and wet, eager to be touched by him as Jungkook broke the kiss, letting his tongue drag down your throat and to your collarbone before he feathered more kisses, pausing at your breasts. 
Jungkook couldn’t resist wrapping his lips around your left tit, this forced a moan from you, hips shifting in need as a hand steady them, as if telling you to be patient, he traded for your right tit next, moaning softly against your skin as if relishing in it. 
“Jungkook…!” You whined softly, watching the explicit sight, your thighs spreading a little more in need. 
Jungkook’s eyes almost glowed in the dark, that icy blue piercing gaze, hazy and filled with lust as he released your tit from his lips, a small lazy smirk tugging on his lips, “Yes, my love?” 
It felt like knots were forming in your stomach, “Love me, you keep saying it, show me how it feels.” 
Jungkook gave you a small smile, “You don’t need to ask me twice.” His lips pressed down your stomach and your body was reacting in all the ways he could hope as he made his way down to your hips, tenderly, slowly, licking up every reaction he got before he settled himself between your thighs. 
Still he seemed to enjoy getting you worked up, lips pressing against your inner thigh making you squirm, your cunt dripping wet as you whined, “Jungkook!” 
His tongue dragged just a little closer to where you wanted it, “What do we say when we want something?” 
“Please…!” 
Jungkook moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your cunt making you let out a moan of relief, his hot wet tongue mixing with your arousal as he pressed against your little opening before dragging it up your slit, right where you wanted it. 
You moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your clit, you shifted onto your forearm, your other hand reaching down to bury in his wet dark locks of hair, his tongue swirling around the tender bud as pleasure shot through your body making your thighs open further for him.
His eyes closed as he moaned against your clit, wrapping his lips around it as if suckling something sweet, it made a sharp whine escape you as you yanked his hair hips lifting for him. 
“Mm Jungkook.” You ushered out softly as his lips parted, tongue lathing against the little bud that had you squirming in pleasure. 
“Relax my love,” Jungkook moaned into your cunt, “Let me make you cum as many times as you please.” 
His fingers snuck down to your cunt as his lips wrapped back around your clit making you whine, his tongue having found a particularly sweet spot that had you grabbing his hair.
His fingers toyed with your little hole at first, letting them get nice and sticky from your arousal before he pushed a digit in, your body immediately reacted, walls clenching around him as a strangled whine left you. 
His lips parted as his tongue lathed your clit, continuously flicking the sweet spot of your bud as you whimpered, your cunt throbbing in pleasure as his finger began to pump inside you, “Relax princess, I got you,” Jungkook’s lidded eyes met yours, and briefly you could see his finger, knuckle deep in your cunt. 
As if noticing this as well a small smirk curled on his lip as he pulled it out, before gathering both his middle and ring finger, pushing it back inside you, it made you wince a little in discomfort, “Shh, give your body to me, I’ll take care of it my love,” Jungkook moaned softly, his cock was rock hard at watching you moan and wither beneath him in pleasure.
Your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as he thrusted them inside you, his lips tenderly pressing into your thigh to soothe you as your body slowly relaxed just as he said.
Your hips slowly lifted in sync with his as you whined, Jungkook buried himself back in your cunt once more, tongue lapping at your little clit, getting the exact reaction he had hoped. 
A loud cry escape you, thighs suddenly wrapping around his head just the way he wanted them too, wanting to be suffocated by your cunt and nothing else, his fingers immediately began pumping rougher inside you as you whined unable to keep yourself supported anymore as you collapsed back against the bed. 
“Koo! Mmm! Please Koo!” Your words were mumbled and whiny as his tongue viciously swirled and suckled your throbbing bud, his fingers suddenly lifting inside you as if in search for something. 
Pleasure was becoming more consistent, more intense as Jungkook's moan vibrated against your clit and his fingers pushing all the way inside you as they lifted once more, the pleasure that suddenly snapped through your body was indescribable, a loud whimper escaping you. 
His name came in shambled shorter variations as you whined and moaned, your walls rapidly squeezing around his fingers as he kept thrusting into the same spot again and again.
Jungkook kept lapping at your clit, finding that sweet spot once more as you withered beneath him, back arching as your mind blurred with pleasure, “Oh..! Oh god, please! Yes! Mmm!” 
Your voice echoed throughout the bedroom loudly as fits of moans  escaped your mouth, lips parted at just how good you felt, “Cum for me, cum all over my fingers sweetheart,” Jungkook moaned before his lips parted against your clit, lazily rubbing into that little spot as his fingers ruthlessly rubbed into that spot inside you. 
And you did. 
Your walls rapidly wrapped around his fingers as he kept shoving them inside you, his tongue attached to your bud, milking your orgasm as unholy noises escaped your lips, mixtures of thanks, of his name, cries to the empty sky. 
It just kept going, the pleasure only heightened as you squealed out, hands digging into his hair as his tongue swirled over your clit, fingers refusing to stop as they hit that same spot inside you over and over again. 
It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your thighs trembling as you completely gave your body up to him, relaxing into the building sensation inside your cunt as your walls kept squeezing around his fingers, his tongue not stopping on your clit as he suckled it once more. 
His tongue finding just the right spot as it all spiked once more, your moans were shaky and cried out as blind pleasure washed over you once more, cumming all over his fingers but not only that liquid suddenly spewing lewdly from your little hole. 
“Fuuck,” Jungkook moaned, lifting your hips suddenly as his fingers abused your little entrance, hitting that spot over and over again as your body withered against him, “Such a good girl.” 
His fingers finally pulled out of your cunt, your thighs trembling as he set you down, moaning as he kissed your thighs, hands dragging against your waist, “Fuck, I want you so bad sweetheart, wanna fill you up, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.” 
You were heaving deep breathes, trying to comprehend the pleasure you just experienced, you were hazy still as your hand tenderly combed through his hair, “Then do so…” You gazed at him, hazey and the darkness made it difficult to make out his expression, “You said you wanted me to be your wife, then make me your wife.” 
Jungkook’s gaze shot up to you as you weakly smiled, “I want you to be my husband, but we’ve never consummated it. I want to.” 
Jungkook moaned softly, his cock throbbing as he crawled up to you, arms hovering on either side of you as he stared down at you, “You mean it?” 
“Of course I do,” You whispered, hands creeping up his neck and back to his hair once more, pulling him down for a kiss that he would never deny you. 
Jungkook moaned softly into the kiss before he broke it, pressing a kiss against your neck, “It’ll hurt,” He whispered, “But I’ll make sure it doesn’t last long.” 
Jungkook shifted you further up the bed as he sat on his knees, between your thighs as you parted them for him, feeling nervous, but you felt so safe with him, you wanted him, craved him. Jungkook’s fingers brushed over your cunt, puffy and wet as you shuddered. 
His hand was soaked in your arousal as before he wrapped it around his cock, just as big and fat as you remembered. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pumped his cock in his hand, it made you feel shy as you shifted beneath him. 
“Are you sure?” He murmured, you nodded. 
Grabbing your thighs he pulled you closer to him before he grabbed his cock once more, rubbing the fat weeping head of his cock against your cunt as you let out a shaky exhale, you knew he was big but…he was really big compared to you.
Just the size of his head was nearly as big as your cunt itself, “Jungkook I don’t…-”
“It’ll fit.” He reassured, a little amused, pulling the head of his cock to your little entrance before attempting to push it in. 
You winced in pain as you shifted, you weren’t sure how you expected this to go, it really wasn’t something you had ever fantasized about. But the first attempt was lackluster due to the fact that he indeed was not getting it in.
Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “Ugh fuck. Hold on,” He whispered, shifting a little more, setting your thighs a top of his a little more, lining his cock back up to your entrance as he pushed once more. 
He pushed the fat head of his cock against your entrance once more, this time however, you let out a yelp, the sensation almost burning as you shifted in discomfort against him, “Ah…! Fuck that hurts.” You let out a weak whine, biting down on your lip hard. 
And it did, all you could focus on was how much it ached and burned having your walls pushed open by something so large and foreign.
Jungkook leaned down, arms on either side of you as he pressed feathery kisses into your neck, “I’m sorry, my love,” His whisper was strained, “Just let yourself relax, it won’t last long.” He let out a slight shaky moan as he pushed himself just a little deeper inside you.
You tried to let yourself relax as much as possible, but your brows were still pinching together and it was difficult for it to not hurt when he was just really that big. 
Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you making you sigh in relief, Jungkook pressed another comforting kiss against your neck as he pushed the head of his cock back inside, only this time, it wasn’t nearly as painful, a little discomfort of having something foreign inside your body. 
But it wasn’t nearly as bad, Jungkook’s muscles were completely tensed and his breath was shaky as he buried his face into your neck with a moan, “Fuck sweetheart, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” 
Jungkook his deep raspy words in your ear made your walls squeeze around him, making him push a little deeper inside you as you let out a soft whine, shifting your hips as if trying to take more of him. 
Jungkook could feel this, immediately pushing his cock deeper inside you, “Oh my god,” He whispered, “Fucking perfect, perfect cunt, perfect body, perfect for me. Look at that little cunt, taking me so well.” 
You whined at his hips thrusting a little, as if testing the water’s, “Koo…mmm!” Your eyes snapped shut at feeling his cock splitting your walls open, hitting all the right places.
Jungkook moaned as his hips slowly began to thrust, his cock still not fully inside you but with each thrust it got a little closer, “Feels so warm, so little, fuck, keep wrapping around me like that love.” 
His shaft rubbed right into that sweet spot that had you moaning, legs wrapping around his waist, your cunt felt so full and yet wanted so much more, Jungkook’s hips were becoming a little faster, “Such a perfect cunt, mine. All mine.” There was a hint of possessiveness in his words. 
Your hands dug in his hair, “All yours.” You whimpered out quietly as your body started jolting, his hips becoming rougher at the words, “Your cunt, yours.” 
Jungkook let out a rough moan, deep and raw as if those words made him all hot and bothered, “Fuck yeah it is,” He suddenly growled in your ear, “You’re my fuckin’ wife, my cunt to play with, my cunt to make cum again and again. Mine.” 
You suddenly whimpered at feeling his cock going deeper inside you, your eyes shutting as you moaned for him, knowing he wanted to hear them, knowing how much he liked to see you in pleasure, “Mmm! Like that.” 
“Oh? Like this?” He smirked against your skin as he thrusted particularly harsh, his cock going deep inside you once more, your walls rapidly clenching around him as you moaned, nails dragging against his back. 
“What about this?” He murmured in your ear, pushing his hips all the way until they met yours, his cock completely buried in your warm little cunt as you shakily moaned, eyes squeezing shut at how deep he was inside, how thick and fat his cock was, completely splitting open your walls. 
“Mmm fuck, yeah.” You ushered softly, creaming all over his cock, arousal coating it as your walls squeezed around him, you had finally found heaven, it was Jungkook buried inside your cunt. 
Jungkook moaned as well, feeling how tight your walls squeezed around him in pleasure, as if suddenly starved Jungkook grabbed your thigh, bringing it over his shoulder as his hips shifted, rapidly thrusting into you as you yelped in surprise. 
But pleasure was immediately blooming side you, his shaft rubbing all the right spots, balls slapping against your skin as you whimpered for him, “Oh! Right there, yeah! Yes, god…!” 
Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, squeeze around me baby, know you wanna cum on it, cum all over this fat cock, gonna fill you up until your dripping.” 
Your hips lifted with his, moaning at how good it felt, his cock roughly dragging in and out of you, pushing your walls open with each thrust, “Mmm wanna cum all over it.” 
Jungkook moaned, thrusting particularly hard this time making you whine before he suddenly shifted, letting go of your thigh as he suddenly sat up right, but dragging you with him, his cock pulling out of you as you whined. 
Thighs trembled and uncertain of this new position as Jungkook sat you in his lap, immediately grabbing his cock as he pushed it back inside you, except you were a little awkward, “Mm Koo I don’t-”
“Like this love.” Jungkook moaned, grabbing your hips as he lifted them, this new position made you feel him in an entirely new way, your lips parting as an involuntary moan escaped you, trying to mimick the way his hips guided you. 
Sliding down his cock as you moaned, feeling how deep he was inside you, your walls rapidly clenched, Jungkook’s hands tightened around your ass, “Fuck yeah sweetheart, can feel you wrapping around it, cum.” His head suddenly dove down, lips parting on your right tit as he suckled it harshly making you cry out, walls clenching around him as you lowered your hips all the way down. 
Your arousal dripping on his balls as he lifted you, fucking you on his cock as you whined pathetically, not of much use when he fucked you like this, his lips suckled your tit harshly once more, “Cum,” He growled, his hand suddenly smacking your right ass cheek making you yelp. 
Your body however, loved that feeling of pain, your cunt squeezing around his cock as he roughly bounced you on it, “Like that? Like getting spanked sweetheart?” Jungkook grinned deviously, suddenly smacking your ass even harder, your body reacting to it as your walls clenched harder around him. 
“Mmm! M’ gonna cum..Koo!” You whimpered out, all the sensations overwhelming you as Jungkook continued to bounce you on his cock, pushing you deeper on him as he smacked your ass once more, this time hitting just under the cheek, the pain mixed with the pleasure as you moaned loud, walls squeezing rapidly around his cock. 
Your lips parted as you came all over his fat shaft, being bounced roughly as Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, thats it princess,” Jungkook moaned, wrapping his around around your waist as he laid back on the bed, bring you with him a top as his hips lifted, rapidly thrusting up inside you, this orgasm was much deeper, more powerful as he continued to bottom out inside you making sure he was completely buried inside you.
“Fuck my love, that’s it.” Jungkook ushered a moan, you felt it before you heard it, something indescribably warm shooting deep inside your cunt, “Mm that’s it, take it like the good girl you are.�� 
You let out the tiniest whine, burying your head in his shoulder as he let out a deep sigh of contentment, relishing in his orgasm, how long had he imagined holding you like this?
His lips tugged into a lopsided smile as his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world, as if in deep admiration, love.
You supposed that look in his eyes, could only be described adequate as love, “My goddess,” He mused, fingers trailing your face, his hand trailed down your side before grabbing your hand, the skin discolored in large patches. 
Jungkook pressed his lips against the palm before tenderly planting a kiss on each finger, the gesture was so full of love it made your eyes fill with tears that did not shed, his lips pressed against your wrist, “The love of my life, I know I cannot change the past,”
Jungkook laid you both on your side as he wrapped his arm around you, “But we will get through this together.”
You weren’t sure what it was, the earnest look in his eyes, the pure devotion in his voice, but you believed him, you wholeheartedly believed him, “We will.” You whispered back, leaning in to press your lips against his.
It was filled with nothing but sweetness, tenderly pressing over yours as he let out a soft moan, his hand finding its home around your neck, not squeezing but simply holding it, “My wife.” He moaned against the kiss, “My beautiful wife. I don’t think there will ever be a day I don’t love you. Sleep, and if you wake, I’ll be here to hold you.” 
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Sleep did not come easily, Jungkook had managed to get you both under the warm covers, scaring off whatever little coldness that had tickled your skin, the last hour before he fell asleep had been silent, his fingers tracing circles against your back, enjoying one another's warmth. 
You had eventually fell asleep but dreams you could not remember had plagued you back awake, your eyes were tired but you could see blue light streaming in from the window, it wouldn’t be long before your day would begin. 
Still, you laid dozing off enjoying your Jungkook who hadn’t let go of you the whole time, skin to skin contact soothing, you had rolled onto your stomach, letting the weight of his body near on top of you soothe your eyes back shut. 
Shifting a little to get comfortable this must have accidentally awoke him as you felt a gentle kiss press on your shoulder a sleepy groan escape his lips, “How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, his voice quiet, deeper and raspier than normal. 
“...Not too long, I’ve woken up multiple times though.” You whispered, keeping your eyes shut as you felt his hand slowly stroke your waist. 
You would never say it out loud, but you could definitely get use to being petted like this.
“You should’ve woke me up,” Jungkook pressed another kiss against your skin, this time your neck, “Let us lay together in silence.” 
“We could be laying in silence right now.” You offered a tiny tired smile though you weren’t sure he could see it. 
“We could.” Jungkook murmured, his lips pressing onto your neck once more, this time parting as his tongue tenderly lapped over your skin, the act itself made your breath hitch, body stirring as you tilted your head, letting him have more access to your skin. 
You kept your eyes closed, allowing him to give you open mouthed kisses over your neck, not too long in each spot to be mindful of marking, his tongue delicately tracing over each patch just enough to tease. 
It seemed he finally got what he wanted out of you, a tiny moan as he shifted you both, now spooning you, your bare ass promptly snug against his hard cock, his lips suckling the skin of your neck as his hand snaked over your waist, grabbing a handful of your tit as he pinched your nipple. 
You whined as you rubbed back against him a little, this made his hand immediately grab your hip, squeezing it to stay still before it hooked over your thigh to lift it, your cunt glossy and wet, dried cum staying your thighs no doubt. 
Your face felt hot and flush and suddenly the covers that had kept you warm were like an inferno, Jungkook shifted, grabbing his cock as he let his fat weeping head rub along your puffy slit. 
A small breath escaped you as he rubbed it over your sensitive clit before back to your little entrance, and then pushing it in, your brows pinched together in discomfort, his size still big for your body to adjust too. 
“Shhh,” He whispered against your neck, moaning softly as his hips started thrusting, his cock pushing further inside you as you whined, “Fuck, can’t believe this pussy is all mine,” Jungkook ushered quietly, “Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to cum inside. Mine.” 
You moaned against the pillow, your walls squeezing tight around his cock as he thrusted further inside you before pushing all the way in, his shaft rubbing just the right way inside you, “Mmm, Jungkook.” You moaned quietly. 
You could feel his wicked smirk on your skin, hips suddenly thrusting rough up into you, his cock throbbing as his balls smacked against your skin, “Moan my name, only mine. Want everyone to hear, to know how good I fuck you.” 
You bit down on your lip at his hips thrusting at a steady but rough pace, each time pulling almost out of you only to shove all the way back in, the fat head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you each time. 
“That's right sweetheart, cream all over it, wanna feel this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock,” Jungkook moaned in your ear, that deep rasp in his voice had your clit throbbing and your walls wrapping around him as you whined. 
Overwhelmed by how big he was, how good it felt you nearly cried out at the feeling of his cock pulling out of you, your muscles tensed as your eyes snapped open at being robbed of your pleasure. 
Jungkook had a sleepy smirk on his face as he sat upright against the headboard, pulling the covers off to reveal his fat, proud cock, glossy with your arousal as he offered you a hand, “Come sit on your throne my goddess.” 
Your body felt hot in all kinds of ways as you took his hand before slowly crawled to him, Jungkook however manhandled you to sit on his lap, your back pressing into his chest as he pried your thighs apart, the position was all too familiar as you whined. 
“Jungkook…!” 
“Remember what I said last time?” Jungkook pressed a long kiss against your neck, shifting you as he grabbed his cock, gleaming coated in your arousal as he pushed the head back inside you, an audible moan from you echoing in the room as you watched in arousal and horror at how much he was splitting your cunt. 
Your body could do nothing but sink down on it, whines and whimpers escaping you once again at just how thick his cock was, finally meeting the base as your body rested against his, Jungkook however had different plans, grabbing your thighs to lift them a little as he suddenly starting thrusting. 
His fast pace took you off guard as you gurgled a moan, eyes unable to look at anything except his cock pulling in and out of your cunt, covered in slick arousal as you felt his shaft squeezing past your soft warm walls each time, hitting up into your sweet spot that had you moaning. 
“You like watching?” Jungkook grinned, a breathy moan escaping him as his chin rested on your shoulder, eyes hazy as he watched his cock push all the way inside you, “Like being made to take this big fat cock while being made to watch.”
Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut at how hard your walls suddenly clenched around him, taking everything in him to not cum this very moment, “You’re so fucking little,” He groaned, fingers digging into your thighs, “Love feeling that pretty little cunt wrap around me, heh yeah like that fuuck.” 
His fingers found your clit rubbing them as you yelped out, walls rapidly clenching around him in a feeling that he was quickly starting to familiarize himself with, it made his cock throb in pleasure as he lifted once more, shifting you both a little so you laid back more against his chest, thrusting harder and faster this time as he pressed your clit between his fingers. 
“Mmph! Koo-! Fuck, ah! Yes! Oh god, like that, please! Please!” Moans escaped you incohesively, surrendering your body to him as he fucked you roughly, hips snapping up into yours, his cock stretching out your walls each time. 
Jungkook’s fingers toyed with your throbbing clit, “Thats it, moan, let them know who’s taking care of this pretty pussy, who’s filling you up with cock right now,” His hips drilling into you as he watched his cock snap in and out of your cunt each time, “Look, watch.” He growled in your ear. 
Your eyes opened as you moaned, your cunt puffy and wet, stretching for him with more ease now than before, Jungkook’s hips slowed down, “You like watching yourself get fucked?” 
Your throat felt dry and your body hot as his hips sensually moved, slower, deeper, making sure you felt every thrust of his hips as his cock buried deep in your cunt, “Answer.” 
“Yes,” You stammered, whining a little at his cock burying inside you once more but this time not pulling out immediately after, “Like watching.” You whined quietly. 
Jungkook had a wicked grin on his lips, “You like it? Being fucked by the wicked prince?” His thrusts were short, keeping his cock as deep inside you as he could, your walls clenched at the short snapped sensation, “Like it when I cum deep inside this pretty virgin cunt of yours?”
Pleasure was building rapidly in your body, your walls squeezing tightly around him each time, watching his long thick fingers rub into your clit, finding that sweet little spot that had you gasping a whine.
“Yes, yeah, fuck, mmm! Fuck Koo, gonna…!” Your body was contorting as his cock pushed all the way inside you once more.
“I remember that little mouth of yours our wedding night, remember wanting nothing more then to bend you over and stuff you full of cock,” Jungkook moaned, hips becoming sloppy, thrusts uneven, some slow, some rough, “Fuck you so hard all you’d be able to do was thank me. But look at you now.” 
Jungkook smiled against your shoulder, “My pretty wife letting me fuck her tiny little cunt, letting me ruin the little virgin dryad princess. Fuck yeah, that’s it, cum all over it my love. Cum all over this cock.”
You were moaning so loud, surely people out in the halls could hear, and it only turned Jungkook on further, his cock buried inside you with the need to make sure you kept moaning, needing others to hear, to know that you were his. 
His thrusts were short, keeping buried deep in your cunt as his fingers kept rubbing into the sweet spot of your clit, your walls rapidly clenching around his base as he buried into you once more before you came. 
Jungkook let out a loud moan as your walls squeezed him so tight he was unable to thrust, pleasure was contorting in every part of your body as you came all over his cock just as he wanted, your clit throbbing in pleasure as Jungkook tenderly rubbed into it, milking every last bit of pleasure he could.
“God I love the way your cunt wraps around me,” He murmured, eyes tightly shut at the sensation, what he had dreamed of for so long now, the feeling of your cunt squeezing tight around him, begging to be filled with his cum. 
The feeling was still foreign, having something warm and slightly sting as it roped inside you, his hands squeezing your thighs tight as he came, moaning softly in your shoulder, you both were heaving breathes.
Jungkook pressed a flutter of light kisses against your neck, fingers tracing your thighs, is fingerprints still prominent in them, “So that’s what you meant…” 
“Hm?” Jungkook hummed out, nose nudging your neck in a loving manner, his fingers tracing over the skin that was slowly discoloring. 
“You…once told me bruising could be attractive, is this what you meant?” You whispered, voice raspy a little humored. 
You could feel the tiny smile on your neck, “Maybe. Maybe not, do you find it attractive?” 
“Do you?” 
Jungkook’s fingers continued to trace over the marks, “When they’re mine,” He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, “They’re the most attractive.”
You had gotten distracted though, his cock slipping out of you and cum oozing from your entrance you squirmed in discomfort, your face felt warm at the lewd sight.
“Mmm, that’s even more attractive though,” Jungkook moaned softly, his index finger scooping it back up before pushing it back in making you squirm.
“Jungkook…!” You whined out, immediately closing your legs.
He chuckled as he pressed a kiss against your head, “Let me grab a washcloth and get you cleaned up.” 
Jungkook shuffled you out of his lap before standing up with a groan, grabbing his undershort that had never gotten worn last night as he put them on, grabbing a washcloth from the stool, walking back over to bed where you had shuffled, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed as you sat naked on his bed.
It didn’t matter if you both had just finished laying together and his cum dripped between your thighs. 
Jungkook looked down at you for a long moment before a smile curled on his lips, “Are you going to let me see?”
“I…can clean myself.” You replied flustered, unable to look at those pretty blue eyes of his. 
“What kind of partner would I be if I made you do that?” Jungkook snorted, grabbing your legs as he pulled you closer, it made you squeak now at the edge of the bed.
You thighs parting only a little for him, but he had quickly made it more as he pulled them further apart, his tongue grazing his lips at the sight before the warm wet cloth dragged over your thighs, his hands were attentive and gentle as he cleaned you up. 
Jungkook had gotten himself halfway dressed and had just gotten your slip on just in time for the timely knock on the door, Taehyun’s voice on the otherside.
Jungkook had allowed him to come in, bowing to you both before going to Jungkook’s wardrobe, “Would you like for me to send for a maid to help the Princess?” Taehyun asked, you could tell he had to have known something was up but obviously not about to ask. 
“No,” Jungkook replied, leaving your side as he walked over to Taehyun, “I’ll help her get ready for the day.” 
Taehyun said nothing more aside from going over the duties Jungkook would need to attend today as he got him dressed, you had fidgeted in bed, eyes glancing at the window as light began to filter in, brighter than usual. 
You would be expected to carry out your duties today as well, the rebuilding of the market had slowed down since winter had approached and Jeong Dae had warned you the building would be very slow in the winter, but to be patient. 
You also had to meet with a few noble houses today to discuss resources once more, just the idea exhausted you. It had been nearly a week since the incident and yet it felt as though a day hadn’t past. 
You hadn’t even noticed when the door had been shut. 
“You’re in your head again.” Jungkook frowned, staring down at you, fully dressed in black today.
“So much has happened since we married,” You frowned as you looked at the window once more, “It’s difficult to not these days.” 
You parted your lips but no words came, uncertain of how to express your feelings, Jungkook patiently waited as he turned away from you walking to your wardrobe, most of your clothes had been taken out, but evidently he had somehow managed to keep most of your winter wardrobe here. 
“I knew it would be difficult, when we married and I would move here, leaving my land behind. I had two years of mental preparation for what may happen,” You sighed softly as you glanced at your hands, flipping them over to look at your discolored palms, “I had mainly prepared myself to be killed here. And yet…somehow, it never occured to me that living might possibly be worse. That living and yet, unable to recognize myself, would be a thousand times worse than death.”
You felt alienated from yourself, perhaps deep down you always knew you were capable of murder, the rage so deep in your bones that certainly it would strike a god down, but to have done it? 
To go against everything your nation stood for? The oath you had so proudly taken as a little girl, your mothers eyes beaming down at you with pride. 
Jungkook set the material out on the bed he had gathered before kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his, “Or perhaps this is just another side of you, something different, something new, change is uncomfortable. Growth is painful. I remember my first time…” 
Your eyes slowly moved, meeting his as he frowned, “I was nothing more than a child, holding a sword too big, he was a grown man. It was one of our drill sergeants in training, he had despised the Jeon name and had taken to treating me as nothing more then dirt beneath his boots.”
Jungkook sighed, “He had been ruthlessly sparring with me, going as far as kicking me into the ground well past my attempt of surrender. And then he stopped, and just stared at him before laughing, saying I was pathetic, that I’d never live a day in battle. And like that he just turned his back and walked away.” 
Jungkook’s eyes dropped, “I don’t even know what possessed me, but he kept laughing as he called out to his little friend that he was done with the Jeon Scum, suddenly I had unsheathed the dagger in my hand and ran at him.” 
“And?” You whispered out.
Jungkook shrugged, “I don’t remember much of it anymore, I’ve been told I stabbed him over fourteen times though, I was covered in blood by the end of it and I only remember crying in the bathtub while washing myself.” 
Your heart painfully squeezed for him, he couldn’t have been older than ten? Nobody would ever be fit to kill, let alone a child, “Were there consequences?” 
Jungkook shook his head, “Areum had given me a light slap on the wrist, extra watch duty, less rations, things of that nature. But being the prince gave me certain privilege,” He a bitter smile grew on his face, “I think that was the first time my father ever told me he was proud of me. Said I had great promise on the battlefield and that I was meant to rule.” 
“You say it with such disdain.” You frowned. 
Jungkook sighed as he stood up, grabbing the dress he had picked out for you, a purple dress with long thick velvet sleeves, the material was sheer and thin but he had grabbed a thick under slip to pair with it. 
Jungkook pulled the slip over your head, “Do you want my honest words on it?” 
“Of course I do.” You whispered out, eyes meeting his as he pulled the material down. 
“I’ve never had the desire to rule,” Jungkook said it no more than a whisper, “I don’t want the crown, I don’t want to be king.” He ushered it as if it was a crime, but suddenly he looked a little relieved as if this was the first he had ever voiced it, “I don’t want those responsibilities that come with it…”
Jungkook held your dress in his hands as his brows furrowed, “...I don’t want to be like my father.”
He spoke it as if that was the underlying reason, you stood up in front of him before wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him, “You’re nothing like him.” You whispered out, his hands wrapping around you as he squeezed you tight, nose burying in your hair. 
Jungkook broke away only a little as his forehead pressed against yours, “But then I think about you, crown on top of your head, the way you visit the outer districts, redistribute what's left that the royals waste, how you sacrificed something so sacred to you…” His hand grabbed your own, pulling it towards his lips as he pressed a kiss against your palm, “And I think about how you were made to be a queen, and if I were to rule by your side…then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.” 
“Truthfully?” You whispered back, looking up at him with a soft smile, “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m with you.”
Jungkook only smiled, fingers tracing your neck as he gave a flutter of kisses to the palm of your hand before he let go of you, grabbing the gown as he helped you change, tentatively lacing the back of your dress before turning you around. 
A sort of satisfied look on his face as if he had made the right choice, “Leave your hair down today, it looks nice like this.” 
“Jungkook…” You gave him a look, you felt incomplete if you didn’t have your hair braided or styled at all. 
“Indulge me today.” Jungkook replied with a sort of saccharine dripping off his tongue you had never heard before, pulling the velvet gloves over your hands.
You hated how much he had so easily convinced you as you sighed, shaking your head, “Very well, anything else.” 
He nodded walking to your jewelry box once more, “I didn’t say anything, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t notice.” Jungkook walked back over to you, gently grabbing your left hand lifting it up as he held out the large black ring, your wedding ring, “Wear it with pride.” 
Jungkook slid it on your ring finger making you smile as you glanced down at it, you had worn it a few times in the past, but it felt different letting him put it on you.
Your lips slowly fell though, “...I’m not ready for today.” You whispered out, Jungkook had been completely taken you away from your sickening thoughts for the last twelve hours, and soon you would have to return to reality. 
Jungkook frowned as his fingers traced along your neck, “It’ll be over soon my love.” He ushered quietly before leaning in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes closing as you leaned into his warm touch, fingers curling around your throat as you let out the softest moan. 
Jungkook refused to let this go further though, letting his hand drop as he broke the kiss, “If the day gets hard, you know where to find me.” 
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Your day had become tones of gray, monotonous without having even realized it, your mind was elsewhere and nobles had looked at you with mixed reactions, some in fear, some in disgust. After all, they had all seen you, seen what you had done, what you were capable of.
You had been hold up in the library the last hour and a half though, reading up on some of the policies for building that had a headache beginning to turn up in your head.
Flipping the page you had went to drink your tea only to find it ice cold, the fire crackled at the far end of the library, but here in the nook you had found it towards the window was cold. 
Time had passed more than you had realized when you found your husband standing at the front of the table, looking at you expectantly. 
You glanced up from your book, “Are you finished with your duties already?” He usually worked later than this.
Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “I’ve been done for over an hour, it’s nearing seven Y/n.” 
Your eyes widened as you glanced out the window, realizing it was dark outside before you looked back at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t even realize…”
Jungkook rounded the table, fingers dragging to your book before shutting it, “Enough of burying yourself in work.”
You frowned before you glanced up at him, “Do you have something in mind for us then?”
“Dinner,” Jungkook replied with a tilt of his head, “But first come, we should check on Fenrir and…you’ll enjoy the walk.” 
You took the hand he offered you before hooking onto his arm as you both walked down the hall, it was a quiet night but the glances maids and nobles alike didn’t surpass you, the looks never went away. 
You tried your best to ignore them as you entered to the courtyard, lips parting as you both stepped out.
Large fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky, almost shimmering against firelight as they softly landed on the ground, small piles of powder already forming as you looked around, enchanted at the sight, “It’s snowing…!” Your lips twisted into a smile, “I’ve never seen snowflakes so large…” 
Jungkook’s eyes softened on you as he smiled, “I figured so, it’s our first of many snowfall to come this winter. I thought you might like to see it.” 
Jungkook had led you down to the stables but your eyes were still captivated by the sky, filled with little white puffs that gracefully landed onto the ground, a loud whine however brought you back as you frowned. 
“Oh my sweet boy,” You ushered out softly at the sight of seeing Fenrir limp towards you, large tail wagging behind him as you reached out for his face, tenderly rubbing his snout before planting a kiss atop his head, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.” 
“I saw him this morning, I let him loose while watching the guards spar,” Jungkook said, “He’s healing, by the time we travel for Yule he’ll be good as new.” 
He reached out, giving a firm pat to Fenrir’s side, “We’ll be taking him with us?” You glanced back at him in surprise. 
“Wolves will be roaming for food no doubt by the time we leave, it would be most safe to have him with us to scare off any predators.” Jungkook replied with a nod, “...He’s also bound to you, the grief he’d give royal staff would be something I’d never hear the end of from my father.” 
You gave him a guilty smile, “I wouldn’t want to part with him either.” Fenrir had managed to lick your face causing a quiet giggle to escape you as you leaned away from him, lovingly stroking his neck. 
You had gone inside his pen to straighten out his blankets and to pull out one more thicker one, now that it was snowing you were certain the winter nights would be long and cold, you truly did wish the castle would let him stay inside. 
After spending a few minutes with Fenrir you let out a soft sigh, wishing to not have to depart from him so soon, but your duties had kept you all day, and tomorrow would most likely not be much better. 
Fenrir as if sensing this let out a whine, his ears flattening against his head and his tail fell, “Don’t look like that,” You whispered out, your heart aching for him as you rubbed his ears, “I’ll be back tomorrow, and maybe Jungkook will let you out again.”
“We’ll see,” Jungkook replied neutral, “Inside Fenrir.” 
It was a soft command the Fenrir hesitated to listen too, “Inside.” Jungkook repeated more firm making the wolf whine once more as he went back into his pen, making circles before he laid down, another high pitched whine escaping him. 
“I’ll be back soon.” You whispered before kissing his head once more, closing his gate as you tried to not let his whines make you sad. 
Jungkook had extended his elbow out to you once more as you took it, sighing with a frown as you gave the pen one last look, “It’s only a day, he’ll survive.” 
“I still don’t know why we can’t keep him in the castle…” Your words trailed off at the sight ahead. 
A silvery cloaked figured and…Wheein, bundled up in a green cloak, cheeks rosy pink from the chill as you both paused, it hadn’t been fair that you hadn’t even gotten to see her since she had been trialed. 
You had immediately left Jungkook’s side, “Wheein!” 
Tears filling your eyes as she met you halfway, “Y/n! I’m so, so incredibly sorry!” She whispered out as you both embraced, tears of joy, tears of relief, you weren’t sure, but seeing her in person, being able to tightly hug her. 
It had all suddenly rushed in your mind, that what you had committed, why you had done it, it wasn’t just for your own survival, but it was for the survival of someone else, your arms squeezed around her. 
You broke away from her, grabbing her hands in our own as you both looked at one another, Wheein immediately noticing your tiredness, “Are you okay?” She whispered out. 
“You were nearly executed, I should be asking you that.” You frowned. 
“But you…” Wheein couldn’t bring herself to say the words, the silence loud as you looked away from her. 
Your eyes dropped down to her own gloved hands before finally back at her, “You are alive, and so am I. I will be okay…with time.” 
“You should be at home resting with your family Wheein.” Jungkook had decided to step into the conversation, words softly reprimanding.
“I couldn’t stay away any longer, not after everything that has happened. I owe you both my life, and I wanted to give my thanks for all you have done for me. As well as…” Wheein frowned disapprovingly as she turned to the cloaked figure.
Taehyung. 
“I’ve heard about the ill-spoken words.” Wheein stared him down as she let go of her hands, taking a few steps back as she gestured the man over. 
Taehyung frowned, scratching his cheek as he shuffled in front of you, “What I accused you of Princess…I cannot take back my words, but all I can do is ask for your forgiveness.” 
You gaped as he dropped to one knee, bowing his head, “I spoke without thinking and let my emotions get the better of me.” 
“Taehyung…” You whispered softly, true his words had wounded you but you couldn’t entirely blame him, you had no idea what would do if Jungkook was in such a similar situation, “While your words hurt, being upset like that is understandable. We were all afraid of what would happen, I would never hold it against you.”
“Stand up Taehyung,” Jungkook spoke, his eyes not quite as kind as yours but it seemed he had a similar line of thought, “While your words were border treason…” He trailed off, glancing down at you briefly, “If the love of my life was also on death's doors, there’s no telling the hell I would raise. 
“Love of your life?” Wheein squeaked out, clearly embarrassed at the comparison, but it made a soft smile tug on your lips.
Taehyung bowed at this, “I won’t speak out of line again. I still hope to one day serve as your hand Your Highness.” 
Jungkook snorted, “We’ll see about that. Now you need to escort Wheein back-”
“With all do respect,” Wheein spoke up, a small shy smile on her face, “I would like to return from my leave early, I would like nothing more then to be back in service to the Princess once more.” 
Jungkook frowned disapprovingly but you had spoke before he did, “You are always welcomed to return Wheein, your company would be a light that I need right now.”
Jungkook sighed, “Very well, then return to your quarters for the night,” He began walking, pulling you along with him, “And we’ll see you in the morning.”
Snow fell quietly and you could hear the owls trill out, your heart feeling just a little more light, the road ahead would be only just as treacherous, but with Jungkook by your side, and the friends you had made. 
You could only hope it would be enough. 
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writingoddess1125 · 6 months
Text
Morticia and Gomez Effect
Mihawk X FemReader
Since Mihawk is based off of Dracula (Duh) and his whole goth dilf attitude it would make sense he's Romanian 🇷🇴
Also I drank some wine 🍷 before this so enjoy!!
>>> Part 2
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• Giving Mihawk's personality I don't think he is the type that finds his opposite attractive. No this man likes those dark mysterious women-
• Def has a More Gothic wife.
• Mihawk is not one to openly talk about his fine but doesn't hide it either. If someone points out the gold ring hanging by his cross he will say it's his wedding band-
• However when his wife is around, he is quite flirty. A smirk on his lips as he will wrap his hand around your waist, lay kisses on your hand or pepper a kiss to the side of your neck. Uncaring if the world sees
• You also can defend yourself perfectly fine so he doesn't have to worry too much about you getting attacked- Truthfully he would pity someone so foolish to do so. Cause if you didn't kill them he would.
• But what was most known was- Mihawk was so whipped for you. Figuratively and Literally-
• The way you were formally introduced to the whole entirety of the Strawhat pirates was a necessary evil.
• "Zoro we need this- It says a red ruby is needed in order for this and we have non thays big enough!" Nami yelled pointing to the treasure map, Zoro sighed. He had accidently admitted he knew someone with a ruby big enough-
• After enough pestering he agreed and they set sail to Kuraigana Island
• It didn't take long to arrive at the gloomy island, A quick journey to the large castle and the spare key hidden under the mat lead the group inside.
• It looked like a cleaned haunted house- Which frightened the group more till the sound of your voice shook them from their thoughts
• "Is someone here?" You call from the large lounging area. Drawing them all in to the well lit room with a crackling fireplace.
• Sanji covered his nose quickly to stop a nosebleed as he stared at you, So elegantly seated with a cup of tea and a amused look on your face at seeing such a young group or pirates breaking into your home.
• Before Sanji could say a word Zoro slammed his hand over the blondes mouth quickly.
• "Madam Dracule" He said formally and bowed respectfully
• His whole crew stiffening at hearing the formal use of your name.
• DRACULE MIHAWKS WIFE!?
• Sipping your tea you raised a brow at Zoro as he bowed deeply to you. You knew he respected you just as much as Mihawk- the wife of his teacher as well as one of his teachers as well since you did assist in training.
• "Zoro, My dear child what brings you and your friends here?" You ask calmly, setting your tea aside as you felt the shift of the room.. they were nervous.
• "We came here to ask you-" The sound of the door slamming open shook them as they heard heavy footsteps walk to them. Revealing the man of the home, Mihawk. Wet from rain and pulling his hat from his head with a stoic frown
• "Dragă (Darling), What is this?" Mihawk questioned as he returned to his island home to see a familiar pirate ship docked and his Pupil on their knees before his wife. Paired with the group of familiar pirated standing in his livingroom.
• "I am not sure yet love, We were just about to discuss it" You say softly, standing up to gelp him take off his sword and coat. Already feeling his eyes following you as you did this-
• Both of you knowing it was an excuse to touch him.
• "We wished to temporarily barrow your ruby necklace Madame." Zoro said still bowing formally
• Mihawk's eyebrow twitching at hearing this-
• "You wish for my wife to give you her necklace?" He said as his eyes narrowed down at them.
• "J-Just for a little bit Sir!" Nami said, feeling anxiety wash through her system.
• "My Love" You cooed, reaching a hand over and touching the side of his face. Immediately it was like dealing with a feline, Leaning into your touch as he gave you a warning glare.
• "Barrowing a necklace is so minor compared to us at that age. Remember Cohi Island?" You purred, Mihawk giving a subtle growl in the back of his throat. "Ah Cohi Island, How can I forget?" He all but purred out.
• The two of you reminiscing as Mihawk began to place kisses up your arms as you pulled him close and whispered sweet sensual words and memories to him.
• "A little necklace won't be much trouble, Especially since it will be returned~" You whispered in his ear
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• The poor strawhats subjected to the very outward affection of the Warlord. It was quite a unpleasant experience for them all-
• Mihawk unclasping the necklace with his teeth before tossing it at Zoro who quickly caught it. The Warlord glaring at his Pupil lazily
• "It will be returned' He said stoically, before returning to his task at hand.
• You wave them off, Smiling softly as Mihawk leaned into your neck to lay kisses and love bites.
• Zoro bowing again quickly as he held the necklace and the youthful pirates quickly filed out of the castle as fast as possible. Zoro still clutching the gemstone
• "Holy fuck! She literally got Hawkeye of all people to give you the necklace!" Usopp said in shock as Zoro nodded. Nami's eyeing that diamond necklace
• "Yes but it must be returned-" He stressed. Not being stupid enough to let anyone steal from his mentor or his wife-
• The group nodded and looked out at the raging storm that beat against them.
• "Well it's raining maybe we can ask for a room-" Usopp started but Zoro quickly shook his head, His face pale and eyes like he was living through War Flashbacks.
• "No- The unholy noises that are about to invade that castle no one will sleep" He said in a deadpan voice- and from the look in his eyes everyone believed him.
• That was a couple too in love
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gutsby · 2 months
Text
Trigger Tease(r)
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Before his morning briefing, your mob boss husband decides to take a pit stop in the sauna with you.
Warnings: 18+. Oral (f!receiving). Gentle fingerfucking. Praise and degradation. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Bucky talking you through it. Bimbofication if you squint.
Notes: @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast - you inspired me 🪽 I just had to crank out a little teaser for the third installment of Wedded Bliss. I hope y’all like it 💓
Full version here
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In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing, you found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time these days: pinned up against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.
“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.
You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.
“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”
This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.
The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.
“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.
After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.
Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.
“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”
You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?
“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.
“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.
In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was better sustenance to him than the whole damn meal the two of you had eaten that morning.
Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.
You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.
“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”
“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.
“Everything OK?”
“Uh-huh.”
More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.
“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.
Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.
He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.
“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”
“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”
Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.
“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”
You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.
“Another,” you choked, not thinking.
Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.
Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.
“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.
“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”
Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.
“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.
You opted to pull at his hair instead.
Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.
“I said how many?” he pressed again.
“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.
Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt in quick succession. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.
“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”
“Bucky—”
“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”
Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.
He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.
Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.
“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”
But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.
Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.
“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”
You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”
“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”
“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.
Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over while Bucky drank in your every sound, and the few tears that sprung to your eyes as they always did, like sweet nectar.
You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouths and pushed them past your parted lips.
“Suck,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”
You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.
That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.
He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.
“I need to fuck you.”
Taglist (STILL HAVE TO UPDATE THIS I'M DUMB AS SHIT): @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut @dixsond
2K notes · View notes
jamminvroomvroom · 11 days
Note
I absolutely adore your writing,
For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?
sunshine.
op x fem!reader - 4k celebration
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in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…
hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚
songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing
2.9k words
oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.
he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.
the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.
his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.
as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.
“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.
“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.
“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.
“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.
your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.
“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.
“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.
“he dumped me.”
“oh.”
“yeah.”
“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.
“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.
“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.
“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.
“oh. oh.”
“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.
“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.
“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.
“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”
you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.
he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.
you pass out right around chandler’s vows.
-
you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.
you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.
for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?
“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.
oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.
you kiss him.
because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.
his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.
he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.
“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.
“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.
“really?”
“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.
“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.
and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.
“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.
“why?”
“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-
“oh.”
“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”
“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”
“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.
“then you better do something.”
oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.
“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”
“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.
his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.
“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.
“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.
you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.
“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.
“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.
“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.
his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.
you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.
“want all of you, osc.” you plead.
“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.
oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.
he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.
oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.
“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”
you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.
his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.
“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.
“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.
“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.
you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.
it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.
“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.
a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.
“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.
“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.
you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.
“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.
“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.
“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.
he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.
“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.
you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.
“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.
“so bad.” you pant.
“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.
he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.
“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.
“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.
“move.”
oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.
“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.
“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.
“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.
his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.
when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.
his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.
the most beautiful sunshine man.
“hi.” he whispers.
“hi.” you whisper back.
an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.
“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.
“perfect.” you agree.
“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.
“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.
“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.
when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.
“thank god you broke in.”
-
oh i’m soft
-
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kentoangel · 6 months
Text
cw ꪆ୧ he calls you mrs. nanami ノ talk of having babies + angst and potential spoilers
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you marry nanami kento at the age of twenty four.
he proposes on october eighteenth with a pink twist tie (courtesy of the owner of your favorite bakery, a pretty girl obsessed with sanrio), impulsively so, in the comfort of your tiny kitchen.
you get married on the same day — in the courthouse, in a silk white spaghetti strapped dress that does little to protect you from the harsh october cold. but your husband wraps his coat around your shoulders, gives you a sickeningly sweet smile with a blush adorning his cheeks and the tip of his nose, the ends of his ears.
“don’t worry, mrs. nanami — i’ll keep you warm.”
“kento,” you bury your face into his side as you walk down the bustling street. “you’re going to make me faint.”
you have been with him for four years, but your husband’s flirty lines make your heart skip a beat. the smiles and laughs that are reserved for you make you feel warm all over — as if you held the sun in your hands.
“then i’ll have to catch you.”
“you’re so cheesy. i love you so much.”
he smiles, those otherworldly smiles. “and i love you. eternally.”
at the age of twenty five, you travel to malaysia.
you stay in a quaint house — dark wooden floors, one too many plants, piles of books in varying languages, a record player with a stack of vinyls besides it.
and there, you dance to louis armstrong’s la vie en rose in the kitchen.
your feet are cold against the floor, but the rest of your body is on fire — blame it on the two bottles of wine or the love nanami kento executes.
there’s a wedding ring on your finger now, a pretty band your lover picked out a few weeks after wrapping the pink twist tie around you (which you keep in your nightstand, because how could you possibly part from it).
your head rests on his chest, ear above his heart.
“i wish we could stay here forever.”
he hums in agreement, sways you to the music.
“maybe we can visit again in a few years,” he starts, looks down at you when you rest your chin on his chest. “in three, maybe? for our anniversary?”
“honeymoon and anniversary in malaysia,” you smile dreamily. “that sounds perfect.”
at the age of twenty six, you buy a bigger home.
boxes are strewn around (marked with kento’s photos, which you go through because there is nothing cuter than your husband with a side part, books, plates, clothes), paintings rest against the wall, the sofas have been put in place.
your husband sits on the sofa and you sit on his lap — legs caging his strong torso, arms lazily wrapped around his neck.
“should we go with a dark blue or a light pink for the bathroom?” you ask, scratch at his undercut soothingly.
“we could do one blue one pink,” his thumb rubs a heart on your hip. “but it’s up to you at the end of the day, sweetheart.”
your eyes glimmer and his heart melts.
“i love you, mr. nanami,” you cup his face and kiss his cheek, inevitably stain his skin with a prominent red. “forever,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “and ever,” his other cheek, “and ever,” his forehead, “eternally.”
“and i, you,” he replies. “forever. eternally.”
you giggle at at the sight of your stoic husband covered in lipstick stains — some more bold than others, but pretty nonetheless. and you pass your thumb on his lip, breathlessly smile.
“i don’t know what i’d do without you.”
at the age of twenty seven, you talk about having a baby.
you’re in your sunroom — lazing on a couch, on top of your husband, taking in the golden rays of light that stream through the big windows.
nanami kento is admiring you as you watch a butterfly perch itself on a flower, a pretty pink rose.
“we should have a baby,” you mumble and his heart stops. you raise your head. “wouldn’t it be cute? to have a mini kento running around?”
it’s quiet. you can hear the crickets, the frogs, the birds singing one last song before bed.
“you want to have a baby? with me?”
“there’s no one else in the world i’d rather have a baby with, mr. nanami.”
the golden sunlight creates a halo atop your head and nanami kento has fallen in love with you all over again.
“okay, mrs. nanami — we should have a baby.”
“and we’ll love him or her, eternally.”
he smiles, gives your waist a squeeze. “eternally.”
at the age of twenty eight, your husband dies.
you break down on the front steps of your home — the home you had built with your husband, where you planned on having children and growing old.
together.
the words ijichi says don’t register in your brain.
nanami kento is dead.
your husband is gone.
“h-he wrote this for you.”
you look at the note, the piece of paper that’s quickly getting stained with your tears.
i love you. eternally
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