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notafunkiller · 3 months

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she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x agent!femalereader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #my stories #my fanfics #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x agent! female reader

2K notes · View notes

theyluvkarolina · 2 months

Note

hi hi!!

i just read your lando angst fic. so good ahhhhhh😩🤌🏻

um.. and if your requests are open… could i request a max verstappen x manager! reader where she is real madrid’s or mancity’s social media manager or something and she’s sorta famous herself and has a really good relationship w her team. and max goes to one of the games and meets her and all the guys are teasing her (like how brothers tease their sister over things haha) and they get together after a while ?

sorry if that was so specific😅 love your works!! and i understand if you don’t want to do it!! have a lovely day <3

𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` you break her heart, i’ll cut your dick off. ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Meeting a f1 driver at your job wasn’t on the bucket list. However, crushing and getting teased by your new team members as if you were their little sister makes this much more worse interesting.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ max verstappen x fem!reader

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 ୨୧ none!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ GOOGLE TRANSLATED SPANISH!! I’M NOT AT ALL A SPANISH SPEAKER PLEASE BEAR WITH ME!, Y/n is a major fangirl for Max 😭, i made y/n a bit more… sassy? sex jokes again

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ i’d like to apologize for how long this took and that i definitely could have done this request better than this considering how happy I was to do this but my writers block has been out of control lately :( as for the teasing, i went the more “over-protective brothers” route. I hope that’s okay with you!

𝐀/𝐍 2 ୨୧ … safe to say i did NOT plan for this to be finished and come out on the one race max got a dnf 😭😭

INSTAGRAM, 1 year ago.

realmadrid ✔︎

realmadrid ¡Al Real Madrid FC le gustaría anunciar a nuestra nueva gerente de redes sociales, la Sra. Y/N L/N! Nos gustaría felicitarla por esta increíble oportunidad y por su dedicación no solo al Real Madrid, sino también al equipo. ¡Bienvenido Y/N!

Real Madrid FC would like to announce our new Social Media manager, Ms. Y/N L/N! We would like to congratulate her on this amazing opportunity and her dedication to not only Real Madrid, but to the team. Welcome Y/N!

INSTAGRAM, present time.

fabriziorom ✔︎

fabriziorom ✔︎ Who’s gonna win 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞? 🏆

𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐒 ⤵️✨

Atlético or BVB 🆚 Barcelona or Paris Saint-Germain.

Real Madrid or Manchester City 🆚 Arsenal or Bayern.

5,643 comments

username1 Real hardest matchup again

username2 Let's all laugh at vardrid we're going to see 5-1 aggregate again 😂

→ username3 bro thinks barça has been doing shit for the past 5 years 💀 → username4 at least we don’t rely on VAR → username5 at least we have 14 champion league wins

username6 Real Madrid revenge arc coming soon.....

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ WTF

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ guys i can’t do this

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i’m stressing

username6 someone check on Y/N rn

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ me because we are versing Man City in Champions League.

2,345 comments

judebellingham ✔︎ what is that photo of me.

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ art.

username7 DON’T REMIND ME

username8 girl aren't you supposed to believe in your team?? 💀

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ even it's okay to admit defeat once in a while. → judebellingham ✔︎ BE CONFIDENT BLOODY HELL 😭 → y/n_l/nmadrid IT’S DIFFERENT WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE WATCHING 😞😞

tonirudiger ✔︎ BELIEVE IN US 💪 💪 🔥

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i wish I had your positivity toni 🥹 → tonirudiger ✔︎ don’t worry y/n! we will win! 💪 💪 🔥 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i think you can stop with the emojis → tonirudiger ✔︎ 👍

y/n_l/nmadrid

y/n_l/nmadrid you guys are in a crisis…. i’m on my way.

2,341 comments

camavinga ✔︎ jude has been influencing you too much.

→ judebellingham ✔︎ and? supernanny is a good show. → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ someone is jelly they haven’t seen peak british tv. → judebellingham ✔︎ it’s telly you fake 🙄

vinijr ✔︎ those headphones look familiar 🤔 🤔

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ shhhhh

username9 what even is the “crisis”???

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ man city. → rodrygo ✔︎ stop this rn.

y/n_l/nmadrid has posted a story 1 hour ago!

realmadrid ✔︎

realmadrid up up and away! ✈️ Onto Manchester 👊

5,423 comments

username10 i still forget it’s y/n making these posts for the team 😭😭

username11 i love how she does a whole 360 with the actual team insta posts than her own 💀

username12 WE DEMAND MORE LUKA POSTS!!

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ I WOULD BUT THE OLD MAN IS GETTING ANNOYED BY IT → judebellingham ✔︎ yeah because you have an entire album dedicated to him and then cry when you think about him retiring??? → username13 EXCUSE ME??? → username14 y/n crying because of modrić being close to retiring 🥹🥹 → username15 WHY ARE WE IGNORING THE FACT SHE HAS AN ALBUM DEDICATED TO HIM??? →username16 because who wouldn’t cry about him retiring → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ @ username16 is right → judebellingham ✔︎ @ username16 i second that → rodrygo ✔︎ @ username16 make that 3. → camavinga ✔︎ @ usernme16 4. → fedevalverde ✔︎ @ username16 5 😅 → lukamodric10 ✔︎ I’m retiring not dying 😓

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

realmadrid ✔︎

realmadrid ✔︎ Miss Y/N hard at work! What do you think she is writing? 🤔 ✍️

3,456 comments

username17 how to win against Man City

username18 how to not piss herself watching the game.

ardaguler ✔︎ she works?! 😧 😧

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ you get playing time?! → username19 SHOTS FIRED 😭 → ardaguler ✔︎ :( → username20 WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU 😭😭 → judebellingham ✔︎ be nice to the baby he hasn’t been here that long to know your harmless 😞 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ @ judebellingham don’t say that as if you haven’t been here for less than a year either. → judebellingham ✔︎ this is what you sound like: wah wah wah

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ congrats to my favorite boys!! onto the quaters! 🫶🫶

2,479 comments

username21 she’s actually so unserious 😭

pablogavi imgagine not believing in your own team

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ imagine being on a team that lost 7-2 in the champions league against bayern munich → pablogavi you won’t let barca live this down will you? → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ nope. 🫶

judebellingham now you believe in us??? 😒 😒

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ shush. be happy i even posted about you guys.

tonirudiger ✔︎ working hard! 💪 🔥

lukamodric10 great teamwork! 👏

toni.kr8s what a game 😮

username22 toni and luka are such parents 💀

y/n_l/nmadrid has posted a story 1 hour ago!

judebellingham replied to your story!

judebellingham Y/N YOU ARSE LOOK AT THE GROUP CHAT PLEASE y/n_l/nmadrid … y/n_l/nmadrid should I be scared? Read at 5:32 PM y/n_l/nmadrid wowww okay i see how it is

mxverstappen1 has posted a story 5 minutes ago!

TWITTER

iMessages

INSTAGRAM

f1 ✔︎

f1 ✔︎ Max wins it in Silverstone! 🦁 An outstanding performance once again by the Dutchman! 👏

6,432 comments

username22 another day, another gp max ate.

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ NO WAY THIS IS THE MAN THAT KEPT ME COMPANY WHEN I WAS LOST

→ username23 no way homegirl didn’t recognize THE max vertsappen 💀💀 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ damn i’m sorry my entire sports knowledge is the one i work for 😞

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ lowkey… he kinda fine 🤭

→ judebellingham ✔︎ bloody hell → camavinga ✔︎ we need an intervention for her rn → fedevalverde ✔︎ euthanize her. → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ FEDE??? → usernme24 y/n gets the appeal → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ when you do work with men in sports your forced to see apeal.

username25 DU DU DU DU 🔥 🗣️🔥 🦁 MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏎️🔥 🗣️

maxverstappen1 ✔︎

maxverstappen1 game of padel before race day!

tagged ; landonorris, fernandoalonso, danielricciardo

3125 comments

username25 f1 is just a jobby for him at this point 😭

username26 the goats and some guy named lando

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ is he single

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ that’s a handsome man right there 🥴

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ he can paddle me anyday 😊😊

→ username27 MA’AM ??? → username28 the Real Madrid boys are NOT gonna be happy → judebellingham ✔︎ WHAT IS THIS??? → rodrygo ✔︎ i wish i can bleach my eyes out rn. → camavinga ✔︎ tell luka to giver her meds now. → tonirudiger ✔︎ already messaged him! 🔥 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ CAN I THIRST IN PEACE???

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ fun trip to manchester and london!

2,347 comments

judebellingham ✔︎ we should have left you at the flower shop

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ but then who will make you guys do silly dances that the fans demand 😞

lukamodric10 ✔︎ moja kći ❤️

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ lukita 🥹 → username29 the day luka leaves is the day i die.

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ very pretty lady 🙃

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ 🤭 🤭

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ is she single by chance 🤔

→ brahim ✔︎ woah woah woah → aurelientchm ✔︎ what do you think you are doing? → vinijr ✔︎ back up dutchie → judebellingham ✔︎ away from our girl → tonirudiger ✔︎ no she’s not actually ! → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ yes i am very much single 😚 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ don’t listen to them!

iMessages

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ ; Date #1

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ karting and fifa is my kind of date 🏎️ 🎮

tagged ; y/n_l/nmadrid

5,628 comments

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ ofc you use Barcelona 🙄 🙄

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ is it bad to support my favorite team? 😅 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ if you wanna be with me then it is 🤨 → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ noted.

toni.kr8s ✔︎ is this why you took the day off??

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ …noooo… → rodrygo ✔︎ she’s lying lock her up in the locker room. → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ no thank you i don’t need to smell you stinkers → camavinga ✔︎ okay we don’t smell THAT bad after a game. → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ 😬 about that..

username30 HELLO???

username31 the sports collab we didn’t know we needed

username32 this was NOT on my 2024 calendar…

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ Date #2

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ busy trying to make a new Madridista 🤍

tagged ; maxverstappen1

3,456 comments

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ you’d look good in blue and red 🥴

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i was going to agree until i realized what you were doing. → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ i don’t know what you are talking about.

username33 they are lowkey so cute

judebellingham ✔︎ why are you collaborating with the enemy.

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ he literally drives fast cars and is not a barca player?? → ardaguler ✔︎ that’s what he wants you to think 🤫

pablogavi ✔︎ why convert him if you can join him? 😉

→ vinijr ✔︎ get out of OUR pr managers comments. → pablogavi ✔︎ make me → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i’m literally gonna block both of you if you don’t stop acting like kids. AND THAT’S COMING FROM ME → vinijr ✔︎ …yes ma’am. → pablogavi ✔︎ 😶

rodrygo ✔︎ stop acting like a couple in the stands. it makes me wanna puke.

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ NOW YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL WITH YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND.

TWITTER

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ Date #3

maxverstappen1 my good luck charm 💙

tagged ; y/n_l/nmadrid

7,346 comments

y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ stooopppp you’re making me blush 🫣

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ liefje 🫶 → vinijr ✔︎ ew 🤢 → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ sounds like someone is sad and single. → landonorris what’s wrong with being sad and single 😞

redbullracing ✔︎ wonderful job out there 👊 🔥

→ ferrari ✔︎ hey @ redbullracing ! please stop winning so some of us have a chance! 😊 → realmadrid ✔︎ no thanks @ ferrari! we like that the newest golden boy of the family i winning :) → judebellingham ✔︎ oh! → ardaguler ✔︎ :( → lukamodric10 ✔︎ since when was there a new golden boy?!

username33 DU DU DU DU 🔥 🗣️🔥 🦁 MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏎️🔥 🗣️

username34 it’s them against the world

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

f1 Max Verstappen and his #1 Fan! 👫❤️

tagged ; maxverstappen1 & y/n_l/nmadrid

6,734 comments

landonorris ✔︎ okay maybe i am sad and single

→ ameliadimz ✔︎ ??? i’m right here 🙄 → landonorris ✔︎ your right my bad 🫶

judebellingham ✔︎ …fine i’ll let this relationship slide.

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ am i bellingham approved?? 😮 → judebellingham ✔︎ don’t get your hopes up mate. i’m doing it for her not you 😑 → y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ jude 🥹🥹

lukamodric10 ✔︎ ti razbiti ona srce, odrezat ću ti kurac.

→ y/n_l/nmadrid ✔︎ i’m

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ yes sir.

→ username35 ✔︎ HELLO???

→ username35 ✔︎ LUKA??

→ rodrygo ✔︎ i don’t know much croatian but i know that is not good.

TRANSLATIONS

cro: ti razbiti ona srce, odrezat ću ti kurac.

eng: you break her heart, i’ll cut your dick off.

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #☆ﾟ smau ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #max verstappen #jude bellingham #rodrygo #vinicius jr #real madrid #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic

1K notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 9 months

Text

affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

▸ masterlist

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bloodandthestars · 1 year

Text

・✧ — 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

tags: NO SPOILERS!, antihero! reader? i guess?, mention of blood, takes place before across the spider-verse, will be edited, one mention of something sexual but nonetheless mdni anything else I’ll let you read to find out <3

author’s note: helllooooo everyone! this is the longest thing i’ve written for my blog yet. he’s been rotting my brain heavily and i needed it to spill out somewhere. do let me know if you enjoy what’s implied and if you’d like more. a lil vague incase there is a future series. I love this but at the same time……anyways- translations and taglist are at the bottom of the post. enjoy!

wc: 4.5k :: masterlist next

BZZT. BZZT.

“Miguel,” You purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Important.”

It always was. “…And what kind of call is this?”

“Work-related.”

You hum. “Pity.”

“You still have ways into Oscorp?”

“Always do.”

“Good, I got a job for you. Meet at the usual spot at 9.”

A chill runs down your spine from the light wind passing through the night. You awaited your contract atop the Alchemax building, looking down at the neon lit city below. It was bright with cybernetic blues and greens, every now and then you could hear a hover car or two whirl by, only to miss it blend into the rest of the blurs flying by. The sight could never bore you, not in how it could change every day. That was the nuance of Nueva York, after all. Nothing ever rests, not even the wicked.

Nor the man that lands behind you with a thud of his feet and a slight grunt. He walks to your side in silence, taking in the city as you do. The sharp points of his eyes narrow. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get in this time?”

You turn to send him a look. Your hand raises as a drive twirls around your finger. “If you thought I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have hired me.”

He lets out a dry huff you take as amusement. His head turns to look at you. “Alright, you got me there.”

You barely catch the way his hand flies out to grab the device from your hand. His reflexes were always quick, but in this rare moment, you were just a bit quicker. Your hand is mere centimeters away from his in the air, catching you both in surprise. Your shocked expression slowly turns to one of accomplishment. His mask shifts, but knowing him, he was deadpanning under it. You chuckle, placing the drive in a pouch among many holstered onto your thigh. His eyes drag up from it’s placement to your eyes. You place a hand to your hip. “You ready?”

He places a foot to the edge of the roof. “Will you be able to keep up?”

Now it was your turn to huff, placing a prepared foot out as well. “Always.”

He gives you a final look, a lingering one you can’t quite place your finger on. He takes off and you’re quick to follow. The route felt routine to you both at this point, jumping over small spaces between buildings that eventually begin to stretch in distance. Your feet rush in a dash, swiftly jumping over over air conditioners. Miguel takes to running on the side of the buildings before webbing back to the rooftops alongside you. The two of you move when a roof entrance divides you, the heroine using his webs to ease his momentum after jumping over another conditioner back to your side. You slide under piping, coming up to jump in unison to the final rooftop. He lands on his feet, while you need to roll to slow yourself down. Both of you rise at the same time, looking up to the greenly lit skyscraper with geometric lettering spelling ‘OSCORP’ on its side.

“Which floor?”

He responds with a nod to the higher top of the building. “84th.”

You tilt your head to think. “We’ll have to climb the back side of the building. There are enforced windows starting at level 80.”

You feel a hand on your waist, causing your head to whip in his direction. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. “Thought you said this was work-related?”

“Hush, descarada. You know what I’m doing.”

You roll your eyes, discontent with him ruining your fun. You hook your leg at his waist and he moves his hand to lower back to keep you stable. With one arm he’s able to secure you at his hip. You hook your arms around his neck and you both look up at each other. Curse how close he is and the way his voice gets low to affirm to you. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His free hand shoots out a web, not wasting time with flying through the air. No matter how many times you’ve swung with him during an operation, your grip still tightens around him in a sudden jolt once you’re flying through gravity. The rush used to take your bones in a wave of nausea, but now it’s all adrenaline that flows through your body. You hoped that was why your heart quickened just then.

Miguel goes by your instructions, swing to the back of the building. From there, he gets you both to the windows of the 80th floor. You let out a breath of relief at the emptiness of the lab. Pulling your gadget from your other thigh holster. It had a metal hook at its end and with one push of a button, it closes in its claws for something thinner with a green light atop it. Your thumb rolls back the dial on its side, clicking another button. In a green flash, the two of you are inside the lab floor, silent and desolate. Your gadget goes back to your thigh, turning over your shoulder for any signs of trouble.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you got that thing?”

You turn to look at him, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders. “You looking to buy one?”

He sets his hands in the air, immediately shaking his head. “Nevermind-”

“I mean if you really are looking to, I can get you set up-”

“No, no, I already know wherever you got it, I don’t need nor do I want to know.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Miguel? Breaking one of his rules— what was it again?” You place a hand under your chin. “Oh yes, ‘don’t ask questions’?”

“And you’re all the more reason why the rule still applies.”

You both reach the emergency stairs however, a handprint was needed to unlock the door. You pull a small glowing blue rectangle that looks similar to glass. A press of your thumb and a hologram emits from it. You give it a swipe, the image shifting through dozens of handprints. You stop at a familiar bulky one. Facing the glass device to the lock, it takes the holographic limb into its code and clicks to unlock.

“How does it know it’s real?”

“You lurk around the underground long enough, and you’ll see that people are in the market for all kinds of things.” You place the glass back into your pocket. “Holographic or fake skin included.”

Miguel raises a brow— not to say it wasn’t possible. He’s sure that with the right elements, tools, it could be possible. But how people got ahold things like that weren’t out of the highly advanced labs he worked in, he didn’t know. The thought only made his stomach turn. Maybe he should stick to his own rules.

You both head up the steps, going from level 80 to level 84. From the window of the door, the two of you peer out to see an empty floor. It was safe to say that it seemed too easy. Only a few guards patrolling up and down in their routines. You look to Miguel, who looks right back at you. You shrug. “There’s always a patrol going on.”

He looks back to the glass. “Seems more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re starting to notice a few things going missing.”

“….Maybe.”

You tilt your head at him. “What? You can’t take them?”

His head turns to you, the red of his mask narrowing. “I can take them.”

You smile at his annoyed tone, patting his strong shoulder.

The hallway is silent for the six guards on duty tonight, say for the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Guns are held strong in their grip, pacing back and forth in their routine.

THWHIP!

Three lines of webs block the muzzles of three guns. The guards get tense, looking up to see where the webs came from. They didn’t have time to think, much less act— the lines steal their weapons from their hands, clanking to the ground along with a guard. The other three guards turn, only for their muzzles to be stuffed with webs as well. You slide past the first three, going for the second row. In your hands were clear cut batons, whacking at two guards’ knees. Your baton lets out a hard crack from an upper cut from below and dropping a guard in an instant. You use your hand to balance yourself as your calves lock around the other guard’s neck. You flip him down to the ground, landing you in a kneeled position to throw your baton into the nose of the final upcoming guard.

With a hard smack, he goes to the ground. You stand on your feet, walking over to grab the baton. You turn to Miguel, who’s got his three guards tied up. You look down to the baton, a red liquid causing your stomach to fall. Turning back, you see the guard’s nose as the source. Panic settles in your head, until you see his chest rise and fall. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood off of on the latex of your thigh. You look up to see Miguel, who finally turns to you after you it clean. You share a look to each other before you shrug. “Poor bastards.”

You both begin walking to down the hall to the entrance when he responds. “Never saw it coming.”

The steel doors greet you with shiny meshed reflections of your bodies. You use the holographic glass again, and the doors slide open with a cool hiss. The lab was vast, with a control center in the middle with scaled monitors larger than you both. They light the space in a light blue hue spreading to its very corners. You both approach the system after a cautious walk.

“Think it’s my turn to show off.” The spiderman pulls his wrist device into view, displaying a small gold hologram and pressing away at data.

You lean back with the computer behind you, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“Was I showing off before?” You ask with a playful tone.

He huffs at your words, tapping away until his tech. After a moment, his hand goes out. You know he wants the drive, but making things easy for him was never something that entertained you. Your finger raises with the drive’s key ring around it, waving it. “Please?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“None of that sounded like please.”

You sense another deadpan across his face. You roll your eyes, throwing into his grasp. “Don’t act like you’re not familiar with the word, now.”

He starts a little, whipping his head back to the computer system. You hear him grumble under his breath, something along the lines of “-mierda, me llevarás a la tumba-”

It causes you to let out another laugh for the night, a sound that he’s gotten used to.

You watch as he plugs the drive into an insert in the computer’s system. Various windows of information pop up on the monitors, lines of words you don’t exactly understand in a quick scan from your eyes before it vanishes. It wasn’t your job to know anyhow. Whatever a client needed, whatever he hires you for, is a trade of information for his eyes only. That never stopped your curiosity however.

You look away, eyes set to the steel doors. A ponding in your chest for the unexpected, only soothed somewhat with his company next to you in the long moment of silence.

The look on your face soon narrows as he’s still at work. “Almost done?”

“Yeah, just waiting for it to give me access.”

“To?”

“A chip.” He states plainly.

You open your mouth to ask more questions, only for you to be stopped by his body tensing. You raise a brow to him and you follow his line of sight back to the steel doors. The two of you remain eerily still, awaiting what was the cause for his tension. It was quiet, but you knew better than to trust that over his enhanced senses. You both glance to each other with caution.

You start. “Is someone-”

He tenses much worse this time, on guard in a flash. “Yes, they’re outside the door with-!”

The doors open and from its crack is thrown a silver canister. As soon as it hits the ground, a clouded air is released. Your nerves feel like they’ve gone ablaze. A hiss cuts into your thoughts, causing you both to turn to the computer. A capsule releases from system, and you grab what you assume is the chip he needs. The smoke only grows larger in size. Before you can say a word, he gets close, a hand over your nose and mouth. He tells you in a low voice of urgency. “Behind the computer, now.”

You both move quickly, his hand still atop your face. Placing your backs to the monitors, you try and take a moment to regain your mind for a plan. It’s difficult when you feel your heart try to rip out of your chest. Your eyes glance up to him as his body remains close to yours, an ear out to the approaching sounds.

“We’re going to have to-”

A clank sound interrupts him as another canister lands right in front of you both. Smoke begins to seep out of it at a rapid pace. Your throat began to burn, eyes watering as you tried to force down a cough. It was no use, you erupt with the sound out of reflex. He looks to you. “Don’t-”

His spider senses take in the next one being thrown and shoves you to the other side of the lab. He kicks the second one far from either of you. When the third one flies in the air, a web grabs hold of it and throws it back over the computer, where grunts and yells could be heard. In the mists of getting control of your vision, you hear him yell to you. “Go! The stairs!”

You scrape up to your feet, and the last thing he sees of you is your fleeing backside.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He had been in labs with mixtures of chemicals that would have to be settled in seconds, fought against robots and maniacs. He could handle this.

His face remained focused, shooting out webs as soon as an idea flew through his head. The sticky components lands on a lab stool, and with a grunt, he swings it into the back of the computer monitor. It flickers in its blue light, cracking and falling in the way of the assailants. He turns, eyes darting around the environment. His eyes light up to the emergency exit, with no other choice but to push through it.

A climb of walls, a sling from webs up the steps, and the Spider-man busts the rooftop door. Whirls of technology snap his attention to what’s in front of him— light blaring in his face with a large amount of guards surrounding him.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He’s done plenty of operations, fought when the world was a blur around him hundreds of feet in the sky. A wave of guards what a slight to his determination, but his mind…was elsewhere. He removes most of their weapons out of the equation, taking them in clusters with his webs. He lands a punch here, and slam with his glowing webs there. He had yet to see you or hear you yell out to him. Hand to hand combat increased, blows getting harder in their impact, grunts slipping past his lips out of increasing frustration. It felt like there was no end in sight, not that it mattered anyhow. His mind felt as though it was sinking in the tangled ropes of his paranoia. The longer time went by, the more restless Miguel got and the more determined he was to get through his enemies with vigor.

“I GOT IT!”

You shout from across the rooftop, the chip in your clasped hand. A red and blue mask turns to in your direction, relief washing over him like a flood. Between you both were many henchmen flooding from the roof’s entrance, all set to standing in your way. He nods to you through the chaos, and you nod back. The two of you run on the sidelines until you hear Miguel faintly shout. “Get over here!”

“Working on it!” You shout back. Eyes dart through the growing group of goons to find a clear path. His eyes are set on you the whole time, watching your face as the cogs go to work.

Your eyes squint, heart beating out of your chest, but you have a plan— somewhat. You knee one person out of the way, moving through the space to shove through a few more. Two step right in front of you. Not losing your momentum, you sweep your leg under one of them and use that same leg to balance the other into a high kick. It creates somewhat of a clear path for you, trying to get closer and closer to the man you’ve been working with all night. You catch a glance of him pummeling through a few men, giving you a slight of relief and all the more determination to pull through.

You’re almost there, goons try to grasp at your suit, tools, or mask, and you’re barely able avoid their invasive touches. You waste no time pulling out your hooked tool, clicking a button to throw out a long thick wire. It wraps around the ankle of a man and you pull hard. He falls, knocking into others like pins as he’s dragged across the concrete. Your path has never been more clearer. You click your wire back into your tool, eyes catching Miguel’s.

He takes out one more enemy before jumping off of the roof. Your feet quicken, taking after him and taking your leap.

The skyscraper’s height furthered your velocity downward. Wind blew into your face, strong in its force. Your tool wouldn’t be far enough to reach the buildings surrounding you. Your body reacted, stomach twisting and turning in an effort to scream at you the very danger you were in. But you? You calmly shut your eyes.

In an instant, a strong arm catches you as intended. You open your eyes, hooking your arms around his neck to secure yourself to his body. You squeeze the device you both needed into your palm to confirm your grip. With one hand, he swings from building to building to ensure some distance between you and Oscorp. After a few more buildings, Miguel slows down to a roof with a large neon sign right at its front. The momentum fades, allowing you both to land behind the bright lettering.

You pull away from his side, hands going to your hips as you caught your breath. Your chest rises and falls with rough exhales while he was silent in gathering his own air. After a while, you catch his voice speaking to you. “You still have it?”

You swallow, nodding and throwing the device to him. He catches it with ease. His large fingers examine the data card. Gold lines so microscopic but filled with the intelligence needed for his work to protect others. He slips it away into an empty wrist capsule, eyes flickering back up to you.

You placed your back against the sign only a few steps away from him, chest slowing to normalcy. Your eyelids were low, lashes soft in their curl. He gains his focus back when your irises appear from them.

“How many times do I have to catch you staring for you to realize you’re terrible at being subtle?”

Your teasing words cause his mask to shift, knowing all too well he was displaying his usual frown. “I can be subtle. You, on the other hand, can’t turn on a filter if you had one.”

An amused smile appears on your face, causing another sudden wave of relief over him. You take a glance to the sky before looking back at him. “Yeah, but that hasn’t kept you away now has it?”

Miguel grunts, and you turn your head away with a laugh.

The back of the neon sign behind you illuminates strongly in the night, red light seeping through the crevasses of the letters to give your vision clarity. Your body regained air in your lungs but the bruising was beginning to ache from your complications from getting to the roof. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Miguel’s arm holding his side. Your brows scrunch together. Just what was so important to risk a hailstorm raised on them from Oscorp? You knew from your previous encounters, that he wasn’t just hitting the large corporation, but any place with the highest level of technology in the city.

You begin after a beat of silence. “I mean, I can’t have some idea of what you get from the jobs you-?“

“No, you don’t”

Your eyes turn to a glare. “Watch that tone.”

“You know, you being demanding isn’t exactly an ease to deal with-”

“Would you like to do something about that?” You take a step closer, looking up to his tall stature. Your gaze is set to where his eyes were, feeling his eyes look directly back at you.

“I..” His brows knit together. You know what you meant, he knew what you meant. It takes him a second to speak with a retort, locking his jaw. “…not here.”

You purposely look to his masked lips, then back to his eyes. “…Thought so.”

Miguel takes a hard and long swallow, shutting his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with that chip?" You ask.

Miguel opens his eyes when he clears the clouding in his mind. Not fully, but enough to attain what you asked. He hesitates for a moment before responding. "It's...complicated. Let's just say it's valuable and leave it at that."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there's more to the story. "Valuable how?"

Miguel shakes his head. "I can't say. It's not safe."

You cross your arms. “What we did tonight, or what we do every other night for that matter, isn’t safe either.”

“I know that but-” He lets out a sigh of frustration, his mask fading off his face in squares of blue light. Words never were his strong suit and his paranoia didn’t help his case on which words to choose. Or for you to know what he has planned. You were different, he knew that. And yet, he still eyed you with caution. It was in his nature.

You look him the eye, knowing he was weighing his options in his head. His jaw relaxes, voice settling into a softer tone. “I’m doing what I’m doing to protect people. All the things I’ve had you get? They help with that. You know I’m not- building some criminal empire or making some kind of genetic super weapon-”

“Really? Because those were only two of my theories-”

“I’m not-” To others, they would take his tone as immediate annoyance. But you know it’s laced with a slight of amusement that immediately disappears.

He hopes it’s enough to satisfy you, to keep you out the possibilities of pulling into a growing web of complications. But he knew you just as much as you did him, both akin to an unshakable stubbornness.

“I think you can do better than that.” You step forward into his space again. His larger stature is unmoving, but he could feel warmth radiate from your body at the familiar closeness. His eyes go down to yours, crimson irises slowly loosing their sharp edge the longer your gazes are on each other.

“We said we don’t owe each other anything…no matter what we do with one other. And I get that.” You tilt your head at him. “But if more jobs end like tonight, and I can barely catch an escape-“

He’s quick to respond. “I won’t let that happen-“

“-But if,” You emphasize. “That starts to become an occurrence, I at least want to know exactly what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

He looks to your features, scanning over your unwavering expression. You can’t help but look at the way he presses his lips together. Miguel locks his jaw to think, perhaps he’d do so in order to keep the words from coming out. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “A super computer.”

Your face scrunches, brow slowly going up. “A…super computer?”

He mutters, still looking down at you. “Yes.”

“To protect people?”

“To protect people.”

His voice was firm, supposedly closing the door as quickly as it opens. You study him, trying to go over your past jobs to try to piece an explanation together. Sadly, you couldn’t. The path you’ve gone down, your lives beginning to intertwine like a binding threads— you knew that finding out what he was up to would be wary road.

Eventually letting out a sigh, you’re disappointed but understanding. "That’ll do I suppose.”

He watches you take a step back from him, back leaning against the sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he follows suit. You both look out to the vast city, lights greeting your wandering gaze once again. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you speak up. "You know, for someone who's always so serious, your fleeting sense of humor is enjoyable.”

Miguel huffs, chuckling soon after. "Is that your way of saying I'm not as boring as you thought?"

You grin, a sight he appreciates after your tenacious standstill. "Oh I’ve never found you boring. In need of a good fuck to let loose? Definitely.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of enjoyment in his tone. "I'm plenty loose when I need to be."

You laugh. "Sure you are. That's why you're always so tense."

Miguel smirks. "I'm not tense. I'm focused."

You give him a playful shove. "Whatever you say, Spider-man."

translations: descarada (minx), mierda, me llevarás a la tumba (fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows

#is it. is it obvious y’all fu-#or that he’s protective #im going off of trailers here guys I’m seeing the movie next week #writing #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #fics #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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rooksamoris · 28 days

Text

💞 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐒.

💞 — in which jamil realizes that no matter how hard he avoid the oasis, the thirst will not disappear till it is quenched.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort type fic. some descriptions of gore to emphasize yearning (the arabs be dramatic, what can i say)

💞 — 1.7k words. inspired by "sawwah" the song by abdel halim hafez. you should listen to it while reading tbh. first in a series of me assigning old school arabic songs to various characters. and yes, arabic speaking jamil is back. the translations are italicized with the arabic, and i changed some lyrics to fit third person, instead of first.

Wa ana mashi fil bilad, sawwah.

And I walk through countries, a vagabond.

Jamil had a job. He was bound to eternal servitude to the Al-Asim family—practically property to Bait (house/clan) Al-Asim. He had a job, and yet he spent his nights away in his mind, wandering like a vagabond. Purposeless, jobless.

All those nights toiling in the kitchen of Scarabia made him forget purpose and work were different things. He would never call working for that spoiled boy his purpose. He was made for more—to be praised, to rule and command. He deserved more. Jamil deserved more than having to push away his moon, his qamar (moon).

You were like an oasis in the desert expanse that he called his mind, and yet he walked away from you. He walked away when he desperately needed a sip. When he desperately needed rest and dates from your palm.

“Qad jinint? (Have you become crazed?) I have too many things to deal with. And you’d be better off without the burden of my title. Imshi (Go on/walk off).”

Jamil saw it. He saw the way your expression faltered, the softest twitch in your brow, the smallest tremble of your lips. It was cruel, he knew it, and it hurt him to say it. But in the end, he knew there was nothing else he could say. There must have been a better way to delicately reject your confessions, and yet he took the harshest route. Jamil plucked the dates from your palm and trampled over them.

He hurt himself by doing so, denying himself the one thing he desperately wanted. In the end, it was simple. Mishwar baeed, wa hu gareeh. His life was a long journey that only injured him. He did not want it to injure you as well.

Still, his charcoal eyes would seek you out. He would still ask Kalim about you, wanting to know how the distance was affecting you. Did you become a vagabond as he did? Were you avoiding oases?

Did you ask about the brown-skinned boy who broke your heart? He just wanted to be reassured—tamainu (reassure him)—that his qamar was doing alright. Wa in la’akum habibi, salamuli alai, he wanted to tell Kalim. If you see my love, wish them peace from me.

He would never ask you himself, nor did he get the chance to since you would scurry off whenever he passed by. The one place he could not avoid you was the kitchen of Scarabia, his domain, during one of Kalim’s parties. You were hiding away from the madness, and he had been trying to hide away from you. It was the same spot in which you cooked with him, listened to him, and were eventually rejected by him.

Jamil froze after walking in, and you turned your head up from your phone once you saw him, “I’m sorry,” you said, pushing yourself off of the counter and heading for the other door. You could not face him, not after that rejection. Not after he told you that your feelings were that of a crazed djinni (genie/jinn).

He shook his head and walked to the stove top, turning it on, “Stay. I’ll make chai,” he muttered. He did not even look at you.

You still wanted to leave, but instead, you just nodded. Honestly, you were a fool for the man, for that long dark brown hair which he braided so perfectly, and his aquiline nose which you desperately wanted to trace your finger along, “I don’t want to trouble you—”

“It’s no trouble. It gives me an excuse to get away from Kalim.”

You swallowed and nodded.

The silence was horrifically uncomfortable. The only sounds in the kitchen were the boiling water in the kettle and the sound that the mortar and pestle made while Jamil began to grind the herbs for the tea. Chai, cloves, cardamom—he added cinnamon this time. The scent always made everything more cozy.

Ya qamar, ya nasini. Oh moon who forgets me. Jamil hoped you would have gotten over your feelings for him and forgotten about the rejection, but he could tell it stung. The way you looked around the kitchen proved that enough. He poured the evaporated milk into the tea, let it simmer with the racing of his heart, and then poured both of you cups. He was gentle as he set your cup in front of you, unlike the savagery that he handled your heart with.

Jamil leaned against the island, his eyes trailing over your face, “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you blurted, holding the cup of tea. Waseitak, waseiya, ya shahid aleiya, “I promised you—you heard. You saw,” you elaborated, “I’m fine.” Tekilu ala beiyak. You could have told him of the state you were in after the rejection, but you opted for lies veiled by a fake grin.

He understood. He did not let you see past his veil either, “I see.”

“The tea is great.”

“Thanks.”

There it was, another uncomfortable silence. His eyes said it all, though. Had you looked close enough, you would have seen how they ached to sacrifice themselves for you. He wished his worries for you would leave him alone—he would have gouged his eyes out just to make the aching in his heart disappear. It was curling in on itself, threatening to burst with the violence of a desert storm, sand filled his lungs, suffocating him. The weeks felt like years, and he was just a nomad in the night.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he set his cup down.

You immediately frowned and put your teacup down as well, scared you would drop in, “You don’t get to say that now,” you mumbled.

Jamil nodded in agreement. It was cruel, rejecting you so harshly just to turn around and claim he did not mean any of it. Especially when he still did find you crazy for loving him as ardently as you claimed, “It’s wrong. I know,” he said, looking away from you and to the door where all the commotion was. The music was muffled by the shut doors, making the kitchen feel like an entirely different building, “But I… I feel the same.”

That was another lie. He did not just feel the same, Jamil longed for you. He yearned, his heart ached and his veins begged to be torn out for your sake. Every cell in his body called for your name, his hands begged to grasp your waist, kiss your neck—his hands which artfully painted henna, wished they could trace every curve and every dip on your body.

“Jamil…” you trailed off.

He merely shook his head, “It is because I feel the same that I must reject you. You—you have so much more waiting in your life without me. My suffering should not be yours,” he said, and he said it as if it were the law of the universe. He was a vagabond eternally bound to avoid the oases because the oases were not meant for him. They were meant for Kalim Al-Asim.

Despite all that, he did not push you away when you cupped his face. He did not protest as he drowned. He did not thrash, he did not fight. His body did as it wished, leaning into your hands, “Ya qamar… you are making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he muttered, the disdain dying before it could embrace the quiet air of the kitchen.

You frowned at him—sevens, he wanted to kiss that mouth of yours—and your brows furrowed, “Let me, Jamil. Just let me,” you said. What did you want him to let you do? You had no clue, or perhaps it was just too broad to describe.

Nawarli, wararili, seitak al-habayeb.

Enlighten and show me the path to the beloveds.

He was so weak when it came to you. Before he knew it, his hands were at the small of your back, pulling you closer and forcing you to arch against him as his lips met yours in a fierce kiss. He sighed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in when you gasped in surprise.

Jamil needed you even closer. His hands made their way down to your hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel your skin. It was just as nice as he dreamed it would be. What made it all the better was how you kissed him back.

One of your hands gripped his shirt, right at his chest, right above his cruel racing heart, and the other held the back of his head. The quietest of whimpers escaped you as he bit your bottom lip, causing him to groan.

He pressed you against the counter, causing your hand to slip from his chest and move to hold onto the surface behind you. You kissed him till you could not breathe, “Ja—Jamil,” you stammered when your lips parted from his.

Greedily, he went in and kissed you some more. Jamil had taken a sip, and now he wanted it all. He only pulled away when your hands pressed against his chest to push him away. His eyes widened and his hands fell back to his sides. He pulled the hood down to hide his face from you as he turned his head, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s—It’s fine,” you replied, fixing your clothes and hair, “Are we…” you let the question hang like a date on a palm tree.

He nodded, “If you’ll still have me,” he replied. What he wanted to do was get on his knees and beg you to use your lips to end his suffering—beg that you use those hands to pull the sand out of his chest.

“Of course, I’d still have you, Jamil,”

Your words were like a soothing balm. It was the salve that you spread over his burns, over his scars, and over the bruises that his yearning created, “Okay,” he said, and it was all he could manage to say for now.

He picked up the kettle of tea and poured you some more. No matter what he did, he could not run away from you, his purpose. You forced the vagabond to stop and pulled the title right off of him, before pushing him into the waters of the oasis.

“We have some ma’amoul (semolina biscuit stuffed with date filling),” he says, after some silence.

#💖 — amoris writes #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #twisted wonderland x reader #twst jamil x reader #jamil nation is so back #making him speak arabic for y'all again

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sparklingjay · 1 month

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Here is the whole Sonic X Shadow Sonic channel translation for you just in case you haven't read it before or if you want to read it again:

I got the translation from here:

Beneath the light of the full moon stood the trendy business and shopping district of Mission Street. Sonic perched atop a storefront that overlooked the block, stargazing.

He came here tonight to witness a celestial event.

As usual, Sonic arrived with time to spare, so he turned to watch the hustle and bustle of the city below — when he spotted a black hedgehog engaged in fierce combat behind a back alley… Shadow.

Shadow was one of Sonic's most formidable foes, rivaling his abilities in every way.

He didn’t always choose the dark side, but his ruthless “ends-justify-the-means” attitude had a dangerous unpredictability that sometimes put him at odds with Sonic and his friends…

What was Shadow doing here?

Curious, Sonic dropped to Shadow's side.

Before them lay the wreckage of several G.U.N. Beetle surveillance drones, spewing black smoke and sparks. This was serious.

With an accusatory tone, Sonic asked:

"Yo, Shadow. Looks like you're having a fun night?"

"This is none of your business. Stay out of my way."

Shadow responded curtly, then disappeared into the darkness — but Sonic wasn't one to be left behind. A high-speed chase ensued as they weaved through the twists and turns of Mission Street.

They ran along walls and leaped between buildings, coming to blows as they sped through the rumbling highway into the tunnel… After some time, Shadow kicked out his heel with fearsome agility, but Sonic caught it with both hands.

I'm ending this…

I couldn't dodge it…

They paused in blade lock until Shadow jumped aside, seething in frustration.

"Why are you following me?"

"I don't want anybody pinning your crimes on me again."

"Ha, aren't you paranoid? I'm busy. Farewell!"

Shadow pointed at Sonic, a flickering stone in his hand… A Chaos Emerald.

"Wait! Hold up!"

"Chaos — Control!"

There was a brief flash of blinding light! And when it cleared, Shadow had vanished.

Chaos Control… This was Shadow's signature move, wielding the power of the Chaos Emerald to warp time and space.

To perform this technique with a weakened Chaos Emerald, after exhausting his own power in the previous battle, was an impressive feat for Shadow. Left alone, Sonic could only stare up at the night sky.

"Shadow…"

☆ ★ ☆

Later…

A few blocks away, Shadow had silently infiltrated a suspiciously large bank. The wreckage of a newly-destroyed Beetle rolled at his feet.

"Here. I'm sure of it."

He dispatched another armed Beetle that emerged from the back and proceeded to the second-floor vault, incapacitating the guards who dared fire upon him. As he reached the reinforced vault door, he saw —

Sonic, standing with a smirk, twirling the key card between his fingers.

Using the energy detector he borrowed from Tails, he tracked Shadow’s location and snuck into the bank through an alternate route.

The fact that there were military Beetles all over town, that not one of them sounded an alarm after being destroyed, that they open-fired without warning…

Well, Sonic thought there was something unusual about the whole thing.

"So, what are you willing to exchange for that key card? …No, stupid question. You want the full story of this situation."

With a dour sigh, Shadow lifted his head and recounted the evening’s events.

"This place looks like a bank, but it's a fake… It's actually some sort of a G.U.N. research facility. They're conducting experiments on a mysterious electromagnetic capsule seized from the Doctor's base after our last battle. Now I fear they're using this place as a front to develop even deadlier weapons within the city."

Shadow slowly approached Sonic, continuing:

"I received intel that this capsule is a disguised time bomb set to explode at midnight tonight. If true, it has enough power to obliterate half the city. I tried to send a warning, but they failed to heed it. That's why I came here. What do you believe?"

Shadow paused in front of Sonic, glaring at him interrogatively. Several seconds passed.

"I don't know what to say."

It was a lot to take in. As Sonic worked out his reply, the detector picked up a sudden energy spike and sounded a loud BEEP! Whatever it detected was inside the vault.

"But I know I trust Tails' device."

Sonic grinned at Shadow as he slid the key card through the card reader on the vault. A heavy metallic clanging echoed from within.

Undeterred, Shadow placed his hand on the vault when…!

BANG!

The vault door swung open from the inside, and a group of researchers frantically rushed out.

"Get out of here!" "It's about to explode!"

Emergency sirens wailed as people fled the scene. The whole facility was in a frenzy.

When Sonic and Shadow burst into the lab, they found that it was much larger than they expected, and at the center was a glass-encased capsule about 6 feet tall, protected by an electromagnetic barrier, emitting intense light.

A swarm of armed Beetles spotted them and unleashed a barrage of bullets, despite the imminent countdown.

"Talk about a work ethic! Shadow, you get the bomb!"

“…!”

Sonic easily cleared out the three guard robots before him. Shadow leaped through the ensuing blast toward the capsule. The electromagnetic barrier sensed his approach and emitted an electric charge — then deactivated just before Shadow touched it. At that exact moment, Sonic found and destroyed the barrier generator. And then…

"Chaos — Control!"

A halo of light erupted from Shadow's Chaos Emerald, enveloping the surrounding area. And when the light subsided… There was no trace of Shadow or the bomb. Then, seconds later…

A massive explosion filled the sky above Mission Street.

The fireball was so huge that it eclipsed the moon. The soundwaves that followed shook the surface of the earth. Sonic saw it as he leaped from the bank and gave a cheerful thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Shadow, already outside via Chaos Control, looked on with frustration. He had intended to teleport the bomb into space. However, he could only do so much with a malfunctioning Chaos Emerald.

Shadow pulled out the Chaos Emerald and tossed it to Sonic.

"Shadow…?"

"This is no better than a fake emerald. If I give it to you, maybe your soft nature will restore it."

Sonic shrugged as he caught the Chaos Emerald with one hand.

"I was gonna say thanks, but I take it back…"

☆ ★ ☆

"Why are you still following me?"

Shadow asked without turning back as Sonic trailed him down a deserted road outside Mission Street. Sonic wrapped his hands behind his head and gazed into the night sky.

"I'm the one who should be asking the questions. Since when did you become such a guardian of peace?"

"I don't care about peace. I don't care about these people. What I can't stand are the fools of this planet who believe they can get away with whatever they want — whether that's the Doctor or anyone else, including you. So don't misunderstand me."

A few seconds of silence followed. Shadow scowled, but Sonic kept grinning.

"Okay. I getcha. I'll do my best. But I think some people out there would wanna thank you for what you did today."

"Nonsense. Who would —"

Fed up with Sonic, Shadow stopped cold and finally turned back to shut him up…

"…!?"

Sonic stood with his arm outstretched, the lights of the distant city behind him, pointing up at the full moon shimmering out in space — and floating just above that, staring down at them, was the Space Colony ARK.

The sight of this spectacle left Shadow speechless, the ARK appearing otherworldly in the glow of the moonlight.

The ARK… An ark of hope and pain. The place where Shadow was born, where he gained and lost so many precious things and so much time. A tomb lost in the void with nothing left to sacrifice for this planet.

Once a year, there was a night when the orbits aligned, and the ARK was visible directly above the full moon.

Mission Street was one of the best spots to see it, and Sonic loved the view of the two cold, majestic “moons” against the sea of warm city lights.

Shadow silently watched the ARK.

Nobody knew how many memories or secrets of the past remained in his heart or how he felt about them to this day. But to Sonic, his silence seemed like an answer.

As if in response, Sonic slowly lowered his pointed finger.

Shadow traced Sonic’s gesture downward with his eyes —

— until it landed on Sonic’s own smirking face.

"Enough…!"

Shadow dismissed, then straddled a hidden motorcycle in the bushes at the side of the road. It was a heavy G.U.N. bike. He must have prepared it there ahead of time.

The engine revved to life, drowning out any further comments from Sonic…

"It looks better on its own anyway."

Shadow sped away at full throttle. Sonic didn't chase him this time, but as he turned away, there was a hint of disappointment behind his smile.

☆ ★ ☆

Beneath the light of the full moon stood the trendy business and shopping district of Mission Street.

Beyond the peaceful glow of the city, a lone shadow drifted away as if it was exiled.

The shadow was indistinguishable from the darkness — except to the moon, hanging over the bustling metropolis, watching the shadow from above, always… ★

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic channel #I like this translation more than the one on sonic channel #this story is a masterpiece #and a gift to all the sonadow shippers

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yuikomorii · 5 months

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// Ok I didn’t want to go this far but at this point, you guys are hating on Ayato just for clout and it shows. It’s okay not to like a character but straight up spreading misinformation about him is not okay. If you lack reading comprehension, just admit it.

What makes Ayato’s past so sad isn’t only the fact that Cordelia was mean towards him. She mentally and physically abused him, yet what genuinely hurt Ayato the most was the way Cordelia treated ALL the triplets. A part of him didn’t even want to kill her, given that he CRIED in the MB flashbacks because, despite being a huge abuser, he STILL felt sympathy even for someone like her. No matter how horrible Cordelia was, Ayato still wished for Karlheinz to reciprocate her feelings only to finally see her happy.

Don't even get me started on the Adam curse. He was practically used as bait and abandoned to death by his own brothers, but he still hoped for their safety after escaping. That curse literally destroyed his entire life because its purpose was to make the person who ate the fig drown in despair and go insane. That's why he was sooo obsessed with Yui's blood. Heck, he's cursed in routes other than his own, as he goes insane in Ruki's MB one, to the point that his brothers had to lock him inside the dungeon. In addition, in his MB Vampire Ending, he falls into a coma because he refuses to hurt Yui and keep drinking her blood.

Other than that, Laito was the one who made him believe that he wasn’t special, hence he adopted the “I will never make someone special again” mentality. He also wanted to kill him when he was younger (no hate towards any of his brothers though). Kanato was the only one who never did something bad to him, considering that when Ayato was a child, Reiji called him the disappointment of the family after failing a test.

Ayato did twisted stuff too; no character is a saint, but he always tries his best to fix things. Even when not dating Yui, he’s capable of showing compassion, support and a desire to improve his relationship with his brothers BY HIMSELF. Check this analysis for example.

Other than that, despite every time being hurt when trying to show kindness, he still became a very selfless guy who’d sacrifice himself for anyone at any given time. What makes this even more admirable is that according to Karlheinz, he’s literally the only one who actually VALUES his life. This guy who loves life would risk it all for Yui, even when not dating, or for any of his brothers.

Credit to: dialovers-translations and tournesolia on Tumblr

On top of that, he's incredibly empathic?? He forgives everybody, no matter what they do to him, and seeks to maintain good relations with them. In Kino's LE route, for example, he tortures and burns Ayato, but Ayato is the first person to recognize him as his brother because he wanted Kino to feel that he, too, belonged to a family.

Last but not least, nobody silences Karlheinz as good as him. He was also the only one who connected the dots by himself about his dad being the root of all evil (Laito too but that was after the letter), including being the only one who didn’t want to kill him only because he didn’t want to fall into his plan. Check this post.

Oh and, Ayato is actually really big; it’s not that only his fans make him that way! This post basically proves that he’s the IT boy of otome games and I should also mention that he’s the character that sells the most in Japan and China! Just look what Japanese fans think of him. ;)

You can dislike him as much as you want but nobody can deny how brave and pure-hearted he is. He’s the definition of from zero to hero.

As I mentioned earlier, it's fine to dislike him, but don't become obsessed with it, lol. At the end of the day, he's merely a fictional character with endearing characteristics and the male lead. It's really not that deep. Besides, it's embarrassing when the hate comes from Yui stans because she definitely wouldn't be happy of any of you talking about her man in that way.

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #sakamaki ayato #admin

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moris-auri · 4 months

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A Sermon on Desire

Aemond x Abeni of the Summer Isles (oc)

Summary: Vexed and nearly at his wit's end, Aemond Targaryen, in a rare moment of weakness, seeks refuge in the Sept. Will a chance encounter give him the divine answers he seeks?

Warnings; NSFW 18+, oral (m receiving), smut, alluded praise kink, overstim, teasing, edging, sexual tension, religious guilt, p in v sex

A/N; a collab w/ the lovely @bottlesandbarricades 💕💕💕, the sheer fun I had brainstorming and writing this in DM's with you is indescribable and I adore you 💕💕🥰

Word count: 6.4k

Torn.

That was the best way to describe it, the feeling of being pulled in so many different directions. Of being stretched so thin that it wore at the very threads of him until he had one choice left but to let the weight of the tension, the expectation and ultimately the guilt swallow him whole.

It was an amusing thought really, for a man, a prince to boot, one who prided himself on presenting a front of perfection to the world, to be in such a state of disarray behind closed doors. That his internal identity would be so fractured and contradictory with a crack running through his core that was as deep and jagged like the scar on his face, splitting and dividing his very soul until he strained under the weight of duty and loyalty that would always be his burden to carry.

He would never truly be able to balance the scales or quell and silence the whispers that he was not Targaryen enough; not Hightower enough that dogged his every move no matter how hard he tried. It was like trying to combine oil and water, a seemingly futile effort.

An endless cycle where one would always outbalance the other like an elixir that would forever be just out of his reach. After all, there are no chartered courses for second sons, no preset destinations but to be adrift, left to rot and rust and bob aimlessly in the harbour.

For as long as he could remember, he could always feel it, the restless pull of the tide that clung to him like an iron lock with no key fastened around his ankle, leaving him with no set route as the moorings suffocated and closed in on him, all but dooming him to drown in doubt as uncertainty began to gnaw at him, eating away at his insides like wildfire as he blindly grasped for some form of conviction and purpose.

True faith was still a mystery to him, the worship of the gods, both old and new. It had never quite come easily to him, not in the same way it did for others, like it did for his mother for example, who never seemed to doubt her unwavering belief in the Seven for even a moment, wearing her piety like it was her shield, her armour. He remembered, before he’d lost his eye, obediently trailing behind her as a child every time she had visited the Sept, kneeling beside her for hours till his knees ached, never saying a word. Never questioning, always obeying.

Then came the conflict.

As he grew and his studies progressed, his youthful past ignorance gave way to newer thoughts. With the more he learned, the more knowledge he gained and acquired, the more he struggled to reconcile the queer customs of his ancestors, whose Gods seemed far more liberal in regards to the strict doctrine of the Seven and what which was regarded as sin by the several aspects expressed within the pages of his seven-pointed star.

So he did as he'd always done, turning to books and using them as a means to escape. He’d tried to read his way out of his emotions and doubts, searching for the divine within the pages and the walls lined with books, rather than at the foot of an altar.

He studied them all. From the Old Gods of the North and the Drowned God of the Iron Islands to R’hllor of Essos and beyond, translating the writings of the Moonsingers of Braavos and the Ghiscari Graces of Slaver’s Bay and deciphering the stories of the Great Stallion of the Dothraki and the lesser-known beliefs of the Summer Isles.

He found parallels and contrasts within them all, common threads and other little details that bound them together and highlighted the differences so distinct that showed how they were truly worlds apart.

But what was the truth of it? Who had the truth of it?

He persisted nevertheless, soldiering on as he poured over volume after volume after volume of various religious texts, hunched over at of the many tables in the Keep’s library night after night, tracing the scrawled words with both eye and finger, his only source of light being the candles he had burning late into the night, blinking as he felt the exhaustion slowly set in, the words and ideas began to blur together, the lingering thought that there had to be answers, and that one way or another, he would find them.

The lingering knowledge that he knew there was a possibility that he would never truly understand remained, for there seemed to be no closure to be found, and his faith stayed unaffirmed, and instead of the enlightenment he sought, it felt like the exposure had infected his mind as the questions only seemed to multiply.

Aemond sought distraction after distraction as he chanced on books of a more sinful nature and rife with temptation. Something to take his mind off the thoughts of lost faith that swirled and uncertain guilt which lurked in the pit of his stomach. He knew he would marry one day, that he would be tied to a girl of some noble House that in the end, would bolster Aegon’s claim when he was placed on the Iron Throne. After all, that wasn't always the plan?

He knew that no matter what the other Lords loyal to his elder half-sister wanted to believe. What his father refused to see. That as harsh as it was, the truth would never change, and it was both by precedent and by his right as the firstborn son, the Iron Throne would always be his brother’s. Aemond would do his duty, as he always had, shouldering the weight of his duty with a stiff lip and an even stiffer spine, letting his reservations and his bitterness fester on his tongue like spoiled sour wine.

He had been in the Sept for hours, having slipped past the great doors after the sun had set the night before, one thought on his mind. His knees had long since grown numb and stiff from the cold as he knelt with his hands joined before him in the silence, suffering the pain with a quiet stoic dignity, alone save for the incense swirling around him in opaque wisps, silently repeating the many prayers that had been ingrained in his core by his mother and the Septons as soon as he was old enough.

For what was pain in a place like this? A place where his Mother’s gods were watching and judging his every move? That’s what he hoped anyway, what he so desperately wished to believe. Then again, if these were the true Gods, then surely they would see through this facade of false piety he performed for the sake of appearances, that they would see him play out this false mummery of deceptive devotion daily. Part of him wondered if this was his punishment, that maybe the Gods remained silent to torment him further. After all, did he, of all the people in this city, deserve absolution?

There was a feeling now as he knelt, seeing his face reflected in the polished marble. A strange, out-of-body feeling washing over him that he, with his silver hair and violet eye, had no place here.

His musings were cut off when a small noise pulled him from his thoughts, a signal that he was no longer alone. His head jerked as the faint sound of bells broke the stagnant quiet, body twisting around to see a woman standing in the centre of the Sept with her head tilted backwards. At first glance, he supposed she must hail from the Summer Isles, judging from the feathers so sought after by the ladies of the court upon her garb.

Her hair was long, swept behind her and braided and adorned with a hundred little gold beads woven throughout that chimed as she moved. Her dark eyes drifted curiously over everything, from the statues of each godhead, from the pale stone and hints of brushed brass to the votive offerings and low burning candles to the vaulted ceilings and high windows, which cast streaks of light onto the polished slabs.

Aemond groaned as he stood, the cold of the Sept’s floor little help to his aching limbs, the sound faint yet loud enough for her to hear over the distance. Her sandalled feet were almost silent, save for the low sound of her heel clicking softly on the cool stone floor as she turned around, catching his eye upon her, flashing a set of pearly teeth as she sauntered closer towards him.

“I’ve never seen a Sept before,” she explained in a hushed voice so as to not disturb the tranquillity. “It is very… dark.” Her accent was unusual to his ears, yet her common tongue was excellently spoken. “And cold,” she added, rubbing her bare upper arms as gooseflesh prickled across the skin. It was then that he noticed the other bits of gold that adorned her, the delicate bangles enclosing her wrists and the intricate bands of gold in her ears and at her throat.

Aemond noted that her dress was more suited to a warmer climate, brightly coloured and richly embroidered, it stood out vibrantly against her skin, making the Sept itself look almost plain, commonplace and colourless around her. Sleeveless and cut away at the waist, it revealed more flesh than anything he'd seen worn by even the most daring Westerosi women of high fashion. It was very much the sort of thing that his Mother would turn her nose up at in silent judgement as a moral failing and default of character, yet Aemond could not find fault in her appearance.

Whoever this stranger was, there was no doubt that she was a woman of means.

“I cannot feel the Gods here I fear.” The stranger sighed, running her ringed fingers along the smooth surface of the altar. “This place is beautiful, yet it feels closer to a crypt than it does a place of worship. So still, so silent and lacking life.”

A crypt. Aemond had never considered how truly alike they were, remembering all the times when he had wondered if he was talking to the dead, rather than the Gods his mother so cherished as he knelt at the altar with his hands joined.

"It is more open where I am from," she said, and he could hear the fondness she had for her home. "We are a freer people, ones not so restricted as you are."

Aemond realised now that he had not yet spoken a word, though that did not seem to bother the young woman, who seemed content to continue her observations without his input. As if he were one amongst the statues of the Seven, himself. A silent observer constructed of carved marble.

The opportunity to take his leave came when she turned away from him to admire the figure of the Stranger, allowing him to slip away like a ghost and leave the Lady to continue her explorations in peace.

The blistering sun, already high in the sky, beat down on the city when he stepped out from the gloom of the Sept, hit almost instantly by the dazzling sunlight and the dry air of the city. It took a moment for his eye to adjust, the pupil expanding and contracting as it grew accustomed to the brightness, his relief disturbed only by the twinge of pain behind his eyepatch.

"You are Prince Aemond Targaryen, are you not?" He stopped at the sound of his name, not having noticed her following him. His pause gave her the chance to catch up several steps behind him. "I've heard of you."

I’ve heard of you.

They were words Aemond was not fond of hearing, knowing that his reputation left much to be desired. He remained silent as a muscle ticked in his jaw, only letting out a hum of affirmation in response, squinting through the bright sunlight. Amusement danced across her face as her lips twitched, her gaze sharp as she studied him from where he stood before her. "You are the rider of the largest dragon in the realm. Or so I heard."

“Yes,” he answered stiffly, his throat feeling as dry as the dirt under his boots. He’d never been the best at small talk, for it was an art he had no natural skill in and even attempting to converse when the topic surrounded himself was a task of even greater difficulty, as well as one he fervently disliked.

"Dragons are almost all things of myth, where I come from, beasts of legend and lore," she said lightly, excitement written plainly across her fine features as she talked. “What a blessing it must be to be bonded with such a creature such as yours.”

Aemond turned to face her, grateful for the change in conversation. “I don’t believe I have caught your name?” he asked, breaking the silence.

"Abeni of the Summer Isles, my Prince."

Bold and self-assured, she offered a small bow. It was graceful, yet unsteady enough Aemond could sense it was unpracticed. “I apologize if this is incorrect. I am not quite as familiar with Westerosi greeting practices,” she laughed, causing Aemond’s mouth to twitch upward at the sound.

“You are far from home then, my Lady,” Aemond replied, clasping his hands behind him. Encased in his leathers as he was, the sun on his back was uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming at his temple and under his collar before sliding down his spine.

She let out another laugh at that, richer than the last. “I am, indeed. Though the world seems not so vast when you have a fast ship," she said as she glanced his way, "Or a dragon, I suppose.”

“Pray, what brings you to King’s Landing?” He enquired politely, courteous as always.

“A little business, a little pleasure.” Abeni smiled playfully, streams of light catching in her dark hair, as black as a raven’s wing. A breeze wafted in off the bay ruffled against her skirts, sending perfume wafting towards him, a rich scent that carried undertones of something floral that he could not name. “Alas, for now I must return to my ship,” she murmured apologetically, “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, my Prince.”

Aemond bit the inside of his cheek as he struggled to find words, hampered once again by a stilted awkwardness.

“I could show it to you sometime,” she offered, sensing his discomfort. Her ability to read him was rather unsettling, if not intriguing. “If you wish, that is? I would never seek to presume-”

Aemond flushed, color flooding his face when she smiled, eyes alighting with delight. “Of course,” he agreed hastily, the warmth of her natural charm and charisma putting him slightly more at ease. He cleared his throat, “My Lady.”

She'd been in the city for several turns of the moon when restlessness began to set in, the itch for adventure and return to the sea growing day by day, and had taken to spending most of her time on the docks, where the stink of the city was lessened slightly by the sea air, and Aemond, more than desperate to escape the stench of death as the King grew weaker and weaker, had grasped the opportunity for what it was with both hands, taking her up on the offer.

The first time he had seen her ship, he had been more than a little in awe of it, listening with one ear as she spoke. The name, she had murmured, was a rough translation from Summer Tongue as The Wanderer in Common Tongue. He knew little of that particular ship, but had read bits of how swan ships could sail faster than galleys, but without wind to steer them, were useless, not that Aemond was well versed in the usefulness of ships and their qualities.

It was truly a marvel to behold the longer he had looked at it, the curving, swooped lines adding an elegance to its design. The red-stained varnish that coated that exterior of the vessel was constructed from set it apart from the other, duller ships, the shade of it not too dissimilar to the stones of the Red Keep itself, and it seemed more of a work of art than a functioning ship, befitted with large white sails and finely carved figureheads of various birds.

“I hear the skull of the Black Dread resides in your Keep, my Prince.”

Her voice came from his blind side, and he startled, half turning towards her when he felt her hand slide to rest in the crook of his elbow. He tilted his head down to meet her gaze, looking down his nose at her. "Abeni."

The strength of her grip on his arm was unexpected, but not surprising from someone who spent most of their time, if not all of it, at sea. “I would like to see it,” she added, looking at him expectantly. “If you would indulge me?”

The reds and oranges and yellows candles lit before the massive dragon skull are reflected in her eyes, adding more warmth to the rich hue. Aemond wondered what she was thinking, whether she was envisioning what the Conqueror’s dragon had been like before age claimed him, and Meraxes decades before, leaving Vhagar as the last living remnant of the Conquest.

His eye widened when she muttered something under her breath, the all too familiar tones of High Valyrian falling from her lips. “You speak Valyrian.” Aemond commented, failing to hide his surprise. A new light dawned in his eye as he looked at her, one that was an equal combination of enthrallment and carefully concealed curiosity.

“I speak a few languages,” she shrugged, not tearing her gaze from the skull before her. “During my studies, I found many errors in the translations by the ones you call Maesters.” Abeni explained, running her hand along the side of the skull. “It was then that I realised that if I truly wished to understand a text, it was best to do so in its original tongue.” She said, moving her fingers higher, edging closer to the rows of jagged teeth.

A kindred spirit? Aemond’s blood burned with excitement at this newly revealed common ground. Written word after all was one of his favourite pastimes. Devouring philosophies and histories in the same manner most men consumed meat and ale. “The attitude of a true scholar.” Aemond smiled subconsciously as he moved closer. “I have come across some truly shameful translations in my time. Ones that were pitiful, to say the least.”

"Oh?" This seemed to have caught her attention as she pulled her eyes from the skull to focus on him. The low glow of the candles illuminated her curious brown eyes. "What was this mistranslation?"

"It was one of the more depraved texts," Aemond responded, "Something about Valyrian Dragonlords entering sexual congress with dragons to achieve their bond.”

“Blood of the dragon, indeed,” she laughed. Her face shone with excitement at this new matter of conversation. “I, myself, am inclined to believe the bond was forged as the result of blood magic - spells and such.”

“Tis a ridiculous notion. There is no evidence for copulation with dragons,” he huffed indignantly. “After all, the people of Old Valyria would not have engaged in such…sexual immorality. They were a five thousand year old civilization who were…” he fell silent when something flashed across her face. Whatever it was, Aemond could not tell.

“When it comes to texts that have been translated by someone within a religious sect,” she kisses her teeth, “I am always suspicious of a suppression of truth to serve an agenda, my Prince.”

“I think it is always unwise to pass judgement on sexual behaviour between those willing and able. Who gets to determine what is moral and correct, but the Gods themselves?” Abeni continued, her words sharp.

“The Faith is very clear on sin. On wanton depravity and mindless fornication like we are naught but beasts,” Aemond replied, and for a moment he had surprised himself, it felt as if his mouth had moved of its own accord and his Mother’s words had come tumbling out.

Like a red rag to a bull, it only seemed to infuriate her more. The scalding realisation washed over him then, the implications of his careless words. She stiffened, crossing her arms across her chest as she raised her chin defensively. “In the Summer Isles, The arts of love are a holy skill,” she said hotly, eyes bright. “Tis not something to be ashamed of,” she snapped, too angered by what he had said to remember who she was speaking to.

“I.. I was not suggesting anything-” he babbled, fumbling for words. “I only meant that-”

"Is this not what the gods have fashioned us for? To love and be loved?" she challenged, her accent growing more with each word she spoke. "They've fashioned us in their image," she continued vehemently. "Gave us our hands to build and our voices to sing.”

“I-” struck speechless for once, the words he’d wanted to say would not come, as if they were trapped, locked within his throat by some higher being. “The faith-” he said finally, albeit weakly. “I believe that-”

“I don’t believe you,” she bit out. “I watched you in the Sept," she admitted, her vehemence fading slightly, her shoulders slumping. “You were there out of duty, not to show devotion to your Gods.”

He blinked as she raised a brow, studying him before she crooked her finger in his direction, beckoning him closer. “I want you,” she murmured quietly when he was within reach, one hand gripping his shoulder as she stretched up on her toes to brazenly brush a kiss along the ridge of his cheek. “Tonight, before I depart,” she clarified. “Let me show you what your Gods of cold marble deny you. What you deny yourself in worshipping them.”

His hands curled and flexed at his sides, brow furrowing as apprehension settled over him. “Not here." he said, feeling his skin begin to prickle uncomfortably, for though the dragon was nothing more than a time-darkened skull, Aemond still felt the weight of it behind him, heavy and oppressive as he wrapped his fingers around hers, tugging her from the room.

Within the privacy of his chambers, they were a tangle of limbs as her hands moved over him, her fingers nimbly undoing the clasps of his tunic one by one before moving onto his breeches, and lastly, his boots.

Her gaze trailed over him from head to toe when he finally stood bare before her. The expression on her face was carefully set, yet he could see the slow stirrings of something in her dark eyes. Before he could even utter a word, she had stepped even closer, her breath puffs of air against his cheeks. She trailed the tips of her fingers up his face, stopping on the raised skin just below the not so innocuous square of leather of his eyepatch. His last shield; his last defense to hide the cavity where the sapphire stone sat in the ruin of his eye.

Her eyes flicked up to his when he curled his hand around her wrist, stilling her movement. “Don’t.” He murmured, swallowing his relief when she didn’t push. He let his hand fall back to his side as he watched her, his eye following the path of her fingers as they moved over the line of his shoulders and the planes of his abdomen, each touch of her hands on some part of him cool on his scorching skin.

She stepped away suddenly, her hands reaching for the strings that held her dress together, twirling them around her finger slowly until the garment pooled at her feet. His eye stayed on her as she turned around, glancing once over her shoulder at him, one hand on the edge of his bed.

“I quite like you like this,” she murmured after he had scrambled behind her. He flushed, large patches of red dusting across the fair skin of his cheekbones and across the base of his throat, an almost unnoticeable tremor in his hands as his long fingers flexed at his sides.

“Like what?” he swallowed, feeling the shame that welled inside him at her words, potent and as rich as summer wine.

“Debauched,” she briefly settled back on her haunches to survey him, trailing her fingers over his stomach teasingly, watching with rapture as the muscles shifted under his skin. “Beautiful,” she added after a pause. She shifted suddenly, the bed dipping under her weight as she leaned forward, brushing a loose strand of his hair back.

Aemond shuddered, the sensation of her fingertips ghosting across his skin sending sparks shooting through him at her praise. “What are you doing?” he stammered the words, panting and wide-eyed. His heart began to beat a rhythm against his ribs, skin glistening in the low light of the candles from the fine sheen of sweat that coated his skin and pooled at the base of his throat.

"You are too tense," she demurred, hovering over him as she pressed him backwards, threading her fingers with his. His breath hitched as the ends of her hair brushed across his stomach, the sensation raising a wave of gooseflesh across his skin. “Relax,” she clucked her tongue, pressing a kiss to his hip.

His mind spun, any and all thoughts that had been in his head disappeared as she retreated, going lower with a singular focus. Her movements were lazy and unhurried, each slow and tormenting swipe of her tongue along the underside of his cock driving him mad.

He tried to think of something, anything, to distract himself from the sight of her between his thighs, but failed, squeezing his eye closed so tightly tears leaked from the corners, the feeling of her mouth on his cock ripping a strangled, ragged moan from his chest as his muscles spasmed, going rigid as he stiffened.

Too much. Too much.

And yet he wanted more.

For how could depravity be so beautiful? This was not like the base and corrupt like that in which Aegon indulged. Not immoral or degrading. It was exquisite pleasure as natural as breathing. A sublime thrill. Pleasure for pleasure's sake. Not born of duty, but of something else.

Something else that could not be found in any holy text.

The exchange of heat. The exchange of energy. Finding balance at last. Giving and taking. Back and forth. Achieving an elevated state of being for but a brief moment, to make you thank the Gods you were alive. A blessing in more ways than one. For what was worship if it was not warm and soft and loud and joyful? It was not meant to be cold and hard like marble beneath his knees, nor made of silence and sorrowfully murmured scripture.

Aemond jolted, squirming as she nipped at the skin over his ribs, and again when she licked a stripe down his stomach before blowing air over it. "Please," his voice cracked as a fist tightened at the base of his spine, the veins in his hands growing more pronounced as his hand slapped against the bedding, bunching the sheets in his fist. His head fell back, a silent plea building on the tip of his tongue as the warmth of the room seemed to close in on him, suffocating and unbearable.

She retreated, stretching like a cat as her fingers trailed a path over his shoulders as she leaned down to brush her mouth against his, the friction of her body sliding against his too much, yet not enough. “You are temptation in the flesh, come to torment me,” he exhaled raggedly against her skin as his hair spilled behind him, sliding over his shoulders in silver waves, so locked within a haze of lust and pleasure, he didn't know where his body ended and hers began.

“There is no shame in it," her legs tightened around his waist as she grasped at his jaw, pulling his face away from the side of her throat. "Let them hear you.” Her words slipped into a tongue foreign to him then, and though their meaning was lost to him, their sentiment transcended spoken word. It felt like flying. Like he was weightless. Like he was floating on water and untethered from all mortal bonds without a care in the world.

He mumbled her name, once, twice, three times, a desperate cry clawing at his throat at the high that swept over him with a force so violent it knocked the breath from his chest before he fell boneless and limp on his back beside her, panting as he fought to regain control of his breathing, reduced to nothing but a patchwork of trembling limbs and frayed, ragged edges.

“It’s futile asking you to stay, isn’t it?” Aemond murmured quietly. He felt her as she moved in the dark, from where the length of his arm pressed flush against hers. He could hear the small ornaments in her hair chime as she moved, the delicately worked gold warm against his skin. The bed shifted as she turned onto her side to face him, propping one arm underneath her.

She inhaled deeply, running the end of her tongue over her teeth as she mulled over her words. “Tis futile as asking you to come with me, I imagine. You have a duty here, my Prince. One that binds you to your family." She smiled sadly at him, brushing the pads of her fingers over the sharp angles of his face, tracing them down from the top of his head all the way to his jaw and back again in a soothing motion that brought forth a deep sigh as his eye fluttered closed. Aemond could hear the sorrow that she could not quite hide, an undercurrent woven just under the surface.

He did not push, instead returning his gaze back to the hangings over his bed as a fresh wave of conflict began to form inside his chest, twisting and writhing inside him. He’d always been so careful, so precise in everything that he did. He was the blood of the dragon, and yet Abeni, with her foreign gods and her foreign ways, had single handedly unwound and unravelled everything he thought he knew.

She was a maelstrom, tearing through him as she obliterated and shattered his beliefs into nothing more than jagged, broken shards. And yet in a small way she had given him a miniscule taste of the freedom that she lived and breathed with nothing to hold her back.

She was right, though. The chains of duty and familial loyalty would always be constricting, too tight and too heavy for him to shake completely, and though she had loosened their pinch, he would never truly be able to escape them. It seemed their paths were only destined to cross for the briefest moment. She must go, and he must stay. Able to coexist, but unmixable. A case of oil and water once again. Time was luck and Aemond desperately wished theirs overlapped more.

Or for longer.

Afterall, what could he truly offer Abeni? His love? Possibly, one day, maybe. But nothing more than that. He was not free to marry whomever he wished. Not free to live however he wished. He knew that if he asked her to stay, her life would be constricted to a gilded cage, a prison of red brick walls filled with secrecy, the conditions in which she would wither and fade into naught but a shell of herself.

Aemond could never, would never, do that to her, not even if she was willing. He could never watch her clip her wings in such a fashion just for the sake of his desire to possess her. Like the birds engraved upon her ship, wild and untamed like a dragon, she wasn’t something to be chained as he was, free in more ways than one, free to go wherever she wished and to do whatever she pleased, unburdened by both duty and the expectations of others.

"Let me return the favour," he rasped, pulling his hand away from her hip.

She stared up at him, desire sparking again in her dark eyes. “Oh?”

"Yes." She squirmed as his hot breath fanned over her already sensitive skin as his hands drifted higher, the backs of his knuckles brushing across the swell of her breasts. He grinned at her reaction, running his nose along her throat.

"You learn fast," she observed, her arms looping around his neck as he moved, lightly running his fingers along her ribs, squeezing at her waist. As his lips grazed over her navel, he shifted off the edge of the bed, bare knees meeting the plush softness of the rug.

“Feels oddly familiar," he smirked, nipping at the inside of her thigh just above her knee. "Though I must confess the view from the foot of the altar is rarely as remarkable as this is.”

Even in the dim candlelight, he could see the wetness glistening between her legs. He teasingly dragged his fingers through the slick that had gathered, the evidence of their earlier tryst mixed with fresh arousal. Grasping the meat of her thighs to pull her closer and grant him better access, he gently spread them, admiring the way she clenched around nothing. The sight was enough to make his cock ache with renewed want where it rested against his thigh.

His eye trained upon her face with burning intensity as his arm curled around the curve of her waist, lifting her slightly to angle her hips, responding to her gasps, guided by her low moans as he slid his finger deep within her, experimentally searching until he found the spot he sought, the one that made her back arch so nicely. He revelled in her scent and in the rise and fall of her chest as she gripped the edge of the bed.

A sight worthy of worship, of reverence.

Filled with deep satisfaction at her response, he pressed forward with new confidence, running his nose between her folds, allowing his tongue to explore with tentative licks. Aemond fought the urge to smirk as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

Trial and error. Toying with pressure and the movements of his tongue. Technique evolving with the intoxicating sighs and moans he coaxed from her mouth, watching her grind her hips, craving more pressure, more friction, bowing upwards as her moans grew louder.

Urged on by the shake of her thighs, Aemond doubled his efforts. He hissed when she tugged at his hair, encouraging him further to bolder action. Delighting in the feeling of her groans and rewarded with the juices which coated his lips and chin. “Look at me,” he panted, gently grasping Abeni’s chin between his thumb and finger. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, the dark of her pupils blown wide and hazy, unfocused with pleasure.

Gods, she was a vision. A breathless beauty in a twist of sheets.

Unable to resist, Aemond softly swiped his thumb across her bottom lip before capturing her mouth with his own again, little more than a messy meeting of teeth and tongue, his lack of skill made up tenfold by a feral, ardent hunger. He was in his element as he committed every second of this to memory, swearing he would never forget this as he gripped the swell of her hips, pleased by the way she met his thrusts.

Chasing the feeling building in his gut, Aemond pressed his forehead to hers as he leaned heavily against her as his pace began to falter, only faintly feeling the pain where her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. His eyepatch caught in her hair as he did, slipping free from his head before falling to the side, and his breath froze in his chest. He pulled away, the lust and desire that had been there but a moment before fading. He turned his face away, tensing further at the feel of her fingers tracing over his scar.

“Why do you hide?” The feeling of her fingers drawing circles on his arm pulled him from his thoughts as she observed his face with an expression of interest, as if she was trying to read his mind. He didn't answer, keeping the marred side in shadow. Abeni slid her hand under his chin, tightening her grasp slightly as a means to make him look at her. "Why?"

Aemond searched her face, seeing no disgust or revulsion at the sight of his wound. He swallowed and fisted the sheet, throat bobbing with the movement, his sapphire glinting as it caught the candle flame, sending spots of blue tinted light over the sheets. "I-"

He licked his lip, hand flexing atop the bedding. It was as if a stone lodged in his throat, the words he wanted to say echoing around in his head, but refusing to come out.

“I need you to make me a promise, my prince.” Aemond's eye fixed on her again, watching as she bit her lip, fighting the urge to shiver when she set her hand over his. “Promise me that you will remember to live while you’re diligently toiling away for them,” Abeni smiled, a trace of sadness lingering in it. “Life is hard enough without restricting yourself from simple pleasures. Don’t forget to indulge. Please.”

He stayed quiet, pulling her to him with one hand on her back. His breath mingled with hers as he kissed her again, softer this time, as if to pour everything he could not say into it.

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originalaccountname · 1 year

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Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

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queenendless · 5 months

Text

🪶❣️🪽This Bird's Beauty (Keigo Takami/Hawks x Adult!Fem!Reader)🪽❣️🪶

A/N: Testing the waters and getting back to writing BNHA stuff. This time on my recent simping/comfort character.

AU time, already established relationship, tickle fluff, and emotional stuff cause I'm an emotional wreck right now.

Plus I have read a lot of tickle fluff with this man and now I want in on it! There is some in here so I count that!

The past month and so this bird man has been on my mind. And I need new anime husbandos to write for!

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY TRANSLATE AND OR REPOST MY FANFIC CONTENT. Rather reblog like and follow please and thnx u.

Another day in Kyushu.

Another busy patrol.

All to attain his long-term goal of heroes having too much free time on their hands.

Worn out, scuffed here and there, and gliding slowly above his hometown, the #2 hero Hawks was heading back to his favorite spot in the city.

A conversation from earlier surfaced in his mind.

“No villain stands a chance against you, Hawks!” One of his sidekicks ego boosted him.

“And no hero for that matter.” His other sidekick remarked.

Hawks chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Endeavor would disagree on that last one. Even the fastest hero alive can't handle the flames so well.”

“And does the fastest youngest hero alive have their eyes set on anyone lately~?”

“I've got my whole life before this young bird settles down in the nest.” That was his ending remark before saluting off to his crew and flying on outta there.

“Still …” He murmured to himself as he took a certain familiar route through the air. “I've already got my sights set on a particular birdie~”

A precious light amongst the seas of blurred smudges.

Saving you on more than one occasion.

Just a regular quirkless person.

Coincidence turned into a kinda sorta reason.

Spotting you between patrols and breaks.

An instant curiosity turned to intrigue.

Walking with you, talking with you about anything besides hero work, getting some fried chicken together.

This new constant of his day-to-day life as the #2 hero of Japan became the one constant he wished to keep hidden from the rest of the world.

One minute you're the breath of fresh air that he gladly partakes in. The next thing he knows, seeing you waving at him one day had his stoic face burning up at how much his heart was racing.

Your genuine gaze, your comforting scent, your infectious laughter —

Razor sharp vision spotted your apartment a mile away as he arrived at the more tranquil suburbs set against the rowdy cityscape.

He could immediately visualize you reading something curled up on your fuzzy soft rug in your bedroom, laying on your tummy as your bare legs crisscrossed in the air, your balcony door cracked open to let in the fresh air.

“All too easy.” He snickered as he sent several of his small feathers to zoom in through the opening.

Your recognition of the tough supple fuzziness that is his feathers stroking your bare soles had you rubbing away those tingling touches only to giggle absentmindedly as those feathers split up to stroke your heels, your topsides, and your arches.

Viewing your smile growing and picking up your melodious giggles through the sound vibrations in the air his feathers received had him relishing in his newfound hobby on top of winding down with you.

“Beautiful, inside and out.”

Your concentration on reading crumbled as you squeaked from those feathers wiggling against your toes, having you roll over and pull your legs to your chest, rubbing your feet together as your narrowed gaze homed in on those feathers floating back to the big bird man perched outside.

“Hey birdy!” Hawks' cheery face and tone had you at a loss between glee and frustration. “I've missed ya!” He was met with a pillow thrown at his face, taking the plush smack, catching it right after. “I take it the feeling’s not mutual?”

“It's been a week.” You stood up and brushed out your wrinkled attire as he hopped down from his perch on the railing before you, his ruffled feathers straightening themselves out. “And the first thing you do is a sneak attack!”

“Well, performing my heroic duties comes first, of course. Didn't stop me from thinking about you, though.” His flattery could only get him so far out of the doghouse, tossing the pillow aside. “And your lovely voice.”

“Can't see why though – EEK~!” The feather tickling your neck had you squealing and smacking your skin for not catching said feather as Hawks snorted in his gloved hand, smirking his ass off.

“Well cause I like everything about you … and you being ticklish is just a bonus.” He laughed as you playfully smacked his arm. “This is the thanks I get for saving you all those times?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot. I owe you my life.” Your sarcastic remark trails off when his tough supple wings draped around you, pulling you flush against him as his pouting lips and downtrodden eyes made you sigh in exasperated admittance. “Okay okay.”

Grabbing both sides of his fluffy collar, you pulled Hawks down enough for you to gently peck his lips. “Seriously … thank you.”

He blushed bright as a rose, grinning all dopey like. He cupped and brushed your cheeks as he returned the kiss tenderly, murmuring between breaks. “How lucky am I to have a gem like you in my life?”

“Flattery will only get you so far, #2.” Your airy remark was short lived as his golden-brown eyes gleamed with mirth.

“And your teasing will just keep getting you this~!”

His wings scribbled against your backside, causing a stream of squeals to come out, sounding so melodious to his own ears.

“No fair!” Your frantic pushing against his chest only drove him to have his feathers strike your nape. “Stahahap!” You felt your feet slip over your forgotten book, leaving it up to Hawks’ quick reflexes to keep you standing as his arms and wings protectively wrapped you up in his fuzzy cocoon, increasing the tingling sensations rubbing every inch of you. “Hahahahahawks!”

“So sensitive.” His faint stubble brushed the side of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squeaked louder. “So squishy~” He swooned, his arms flexing as he squeezed your waistline, wiggling his fingers into your sides plus squeezing them for good measure. “So squeamish!”

“I hahahate you – AAH~!” Him lifting you by your thighs had your arms and legs instinctively hugging his neck and waist.

“That's not what I see here, beautiful~” His smug smirk made you hide your flushed whining face in his neck, feeling the rumbling of his laughter seep through you. “But okay, I'll stop with the tickles … if you help me strip~”

“God you tease.” Your complaint was betrayed by your heartfelt emotion. Gingerly taking off his visor, his amused affectionate eyes watched as you also took off his headphones with slow tepid care, keeping you steady with his hands pressed to you tight.

“Ya know … you can call me by my real name … if you want to, that is.” He mused as he plopped down on your bed and helped you take off his jacket. “Seems only fair since I always call you by yours.” He pried his gloves off with his teeth, tempting you with his actions. “I wanna hear my name coming off your lips~” He purred.

Tenderly setting his removed items down on your nightstand table, you cupped his own cheeks just so you could look him straight in those golden-brown hues. “Keigo.” His eyes lite up right away. “K … Kei.” He audibly gulped as rose red tinted from his ears to his neck for indeed his blushing face spoke volumes of how overjoyed he was. “Can I call you that? Kei?”

He cheekily grinned. “Anything for you, angel.”

You peppered kisses all over his own giggling face. Prying his boots off with help from the heels, Keigo delicately pushed you to lie down on your back, legs intertwined, as some of his feathers tugged the balcony slide door closed before returning to his wings draping you both in their cozy protective warmth.

“I really did miss you, baby bird.”

He froze up as the sounds of sniffles reached his ears. The sight of tears making your e/c eyes shimmer like jewels are as mesmerizing as they are heart wrenching.

“I missed you too, Kei. So much.” His butterfly kisses to your eyes and cheeks were his way to cheer you up and show you just how much he cares for you, smiling as his stubble tickled your sensitive face enough to make you giggle and smile yourself.

“This optimistic guy is just glad to finally be home with his beauty again.” He sighed deeply as you brushed through his unruly messy hair, relaxing and leaning in to your heavenly touch.

Lulled by your caresses, he felt himself falling asleep, whispering as his droopy eyes turned to you.

“Y/n, thank you.” His lazy kiss gets returned by you, having his tired smile still radiating endearment as you both pulled away. “For coming into my life. Letting me be myself around you. Just … everything.”

“I feel the same way, Kei.” You confess as you too felt the embrace of sleep taking you in, using his chest as a pillow, slacking as having him back in your arms made it that much easier to settle down and unwind, straight to sleepy town. “I love you.”

Keigo's heart beats right outta his chest at that confession, admiring your sweet sleeping self, giving your forehead a kiss, curling into you, lulled by your soft breathing as it became his favorite lullaby. “I love you too.”

His wings settled back, pulling away to rest behind him as Keigo pulled you two to lay on your sides, still enraptured in each other, as nighttime swept throughout Kyushu.

For their winged protector took a nice long rest.

With you, his beautiful partner, safe and sound in his arms.

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plague-of-insomnia · 11 days

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Ch 212: That Butler, Going South

Please respect the spoons (time and energy) and money I invested into this post. Do not use my content without credit.

16 pages including the cover.

Basically, the chapter covers Sebastian and Ciel traveling by train to Brighton, discussing the servants’ missions as Ciel enjoys breakfast in the dining car.

(Remember that all the missions are happening simultaneously more or less, so Ciel doesn’t know how successful or not they all were.)

It’s actually quite brilliant of Yana and her team to time things like this. This chapter is a great way for fans who may have lapsed during the servant arcs to catch up again, or even for new fans lured in by the anime to get a taste of the manga.

It’s also interesting to see a how a some of the scenes mirror panels/moments from previous arcs.

For example, the shot of Sebastian and Ciel on the train together is akin to the end of the circus arc. (And admire how much her art has improved!)

Later, we get a (shocking, to me, anyway) shot of Sebastian sitting at the table with Ciel as equals, reminiscent of when they ironed out the details of the contract.

The chapter begins with the two of them on the train in their first class compartment, en route to Brighton from Reading.

Sebastian, ever the conscientious butler, notices the time and mentions breakfast, but Ciel is cautious: they’re fugitives, after all. Sebastian points out that most people wouldn’t expect a criminal to be casually taking a meal in the dining car. Seeing his point (and since Ciel is driven by his stomach lol), they go to have breakfast together.

They then discuss the servants’ missions and what they expect. For example, Ciel brings up the point that Lau can only be trusted so far, and he is the one who first brought their attention to the whole mess back in the Campania arc with Karstein Hospital. And he is a mafia boss.

But, both of them acknowledge that Bard is the smartest and most capable of the four servants (Bard, Mey, Finny, Snake), and that he managed to make it to the UK all the way from America alone. Plus, he’s trustworthy. Ciel points out that’s precisely why he paired them up. (Seeing them compliment my man 😭😭… Take that, Bard haters!)

They also discuss the mission Ran Mao and Mey are undergoing and ofc Snake and Finny. (I’m sorry but I’m tired and I don’t care as much about the other servants as Bard so I’m… not going into detail on their pages. Maybe tomorrow if I have time and spoons I’ll make an add-on to this going over those pages.)

This panel is one of my fave moments in the chapter… it translates more or less like this:

Mey: For our lord

Bard: With pride

Snake: With my life on the line

Finny: I do the assigned work and see it through to the end

Despite initially being wary of leaving their compartment, when Sebastian suggests they leave the dining car, Ciel wants to stay and stretch his legs. It’s only a few hours to Brighton by train.

Looks like next week we’ll start the arc in earnest and maybe learn how they plan to infiltrate the hotel.

Please respect the spoons (time and energy) and money I invested into this post. Do not use my content without credit.

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twilightmalachite · 20 days

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Esu Sagiri - Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Esu, Subaru

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching… You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Cemetery

Second year of ES’ establishment. At a secret cemetery somewhere in Tokyo…

Subaru: (Dad.)

(I’m sorry I visited you so late this year as well.)

(I’m getting busier and busier year after year, you know? Although in Trickstar’s case, it’s more like there’s no leisure for the poor...)

(You wouldn't angry at that, would you though, Dad? ‘Cause you were much busier than I was, day in and day out.)

(Nothing could be done about that, though. You were a super idol who carried the industry on his shoulders, after all.)

(You never gave up, though. You never complained, and on holidays you would even be sure to come back home with a smile on your face just to make your family happy.)

(You sure are amazing, Dad. I’ve always admired you. And I’m now in the same position as you—I’ve become an idol.)

(As time passes, I’ve slowly realized more and more just how amazing a person you were.)

(It made me happy. It made me happy to be able to understand you, Dad.)

(Hey, Dad, I wonder if I’ve become an idol worthy of your praise.)

(If possible, I’d like to have you say “Wow, you’re amazing, Subaru!” if you were alive.)

(And I wish you could ruffle up my hair like I was a dog, just like you used to too, but…)

Esu: NwaaAAAAAAH!?

(thunk)

Subaru: …?

Hmm? Umm, are… you okay…?

Esu: Ah, It's okay, do not mind me! My arms are just outta shape, as it’s been a while since I’ve climbed! I bit off more than I could chew!

I took a dangerous route to get away from this creepy guy, and accidentally slipped from somewhere high—

Esu: —Wait, you’re Akehoshi SubaruuUUU!

Subaru: Yup. Huh, are you a fan of mine?

(This isn’t good. I didn’t really want my fans to know where my dad’s grave was.)

(Although his reputation’s been restored to an extent, there’s still a lot of anti-fans who believe those rumors and consider him the worst idol ever…)

(I don’t want that. What if his grave gets vandalized or something?)

Esu: Oh, no no! It’d be presumptuous for someone like myself to call myself a fan!

Presem… Presim, prisum… Huh, is “presumptuous” correct?!

Subaru: Yep, that’s it.

Esu: Was I right? Got it! Good, good, hip-hooray! I mean, that was very kind of you! This debt of gratitude will not be forgotten even if I am reborn seventeen times over!

Subaru: Seventeen times over, huh? What’s with that oddly specific number?

You’re a strange kid.

Esu: Huh, you think so? I find myself to be normal, though! Maybe I’ve become a little out of touch with the world after having been cooped up for a while?

If I do anything that feels off, do feel free to point anything out! I’ll correct it!

Subaru: Alright. Well to start, it’s looked down upon to cause a ruckus at gravesites.

Esu: You’re right~! My bad! I’ll quiet down! I’m a man who has often been told “You’re so cute when you keep your mouth shut, Esu-kun!” by his inconsiderate classmates!

Subaru: So your name’s Esu, huh?

Esu: Yes! I am Sagiri Esu! My name’s pretty tough to read, or excessively sparkly rather, so it’s okay if you don’t remember all of it![1]

You’re free to just call me something like “Ecchan” or “Sacchan”!

Subaru: Ecchan reminds me of Eichi-senpai. Sagiri—I feel like I might’ve heard “Sagiri” somewhere before…

Esu: Oh, so you recognize it? My father used to be real popular! He was even called a super idol at a point!

Subaru: Ah, that’s right! There was a super idol who showed up sometime between the times of Hokke~Papa—Hidaka Seiya-san and my dad, right?

His name was Sagiri. My dad said that he looked up to him, so I remember.

Esu: Ahaha~, although it was all downhill for him once the next super idol, Akehoshi-senpai’s father, made his appearance.

Subaru: Well, my dad did become the talk of the town for many things, both good and bad… Those from around that time aren’t talked about as much anymore, with Hokke~Papa being an exception.

It’s like it’s all been balled together as a dark past to be forgotten, thanks to all that’s happened.

So I dunno how things are now, but, umm you—Sacchan, what’s your father doing now?

He’s not active anymore… right? I feel I’d know about him if he were active.

Esu: Oh, my father died.

Subaru: …Is that so? Sorry, I didn’t know…

Esu: Nah, if you didn’t know, you didn’t know! He passed away three years ago, and by the time he’d already turned over a new leaf as just an ordinary man.

Just an ordinary man, just with a bit of a nice-looking face.

Could at least look ugly… Wouldn't have to be followed around by that pervert then…

Subaru: Pervert? Had your father been targeted by some weird stalker or something, like mine was…?

Esu: No, no, this pervert has nothing to do with my father’s death. Sorry if I’m being difficult to follow! My communication skills aren’t all too great, after all! Just terrible!

My father died in a plane accident. Just a common—well, it’s not common, but an ordinary accident with nothing to do with idols or anything like that.

I was involved in the accident too, and although I managed to survive, I’ve been in the hospital up until recently. So, I've been in the process of rehabilitation for about six months, as of now.

Subaru: Is that so… I probably wouldn’t have even known three years ago. In the period before I entered high school, I would shut myself away from any and all information.

All of the information that would drift my way… I wouldn’t wanna hear any of it.

Esu: I totally get you~. It feels like anything and everything is an attack on you when your heart is weak, doesn’t it?

Even though nobody in the world probably spares a single thought about you.

Ah, but you’re an idol, Akehoshi-senpai, so tons and tons of people pay attention to you, of course! I was really moved by the SS from two years back![2]

It was like—and sorry if this sounds disrespectful—but your father also passed away… I felt like I could relate with you in some ways.

Like, “Ahh, this person, he’s me.”

Subaru: … …

Esu: At the time, I understood the expression on your face, your voice, everything, as if they were my own—I empathized! I was no longer able to distinguish between you and I!

I was in the hospital, lying in bed watching your performance, and I cried so hard that even the nurses became seriously worried about me.

Esu: Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching…

You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai. So, I thought you were real amazing—

Esu: Ahh, I can’t find the right words! Hang in there, my vocabulary!

Subaru: It’s okay. I understand you.

Thank you. For watching my performance.

You cried in place of me, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why I didn’t have to show a shameful sight like that upon such an important stage.

So… I know it sounds weird, but thank you. Really.

Esu: Oh no no, I seriously didn’t do anything! I don’t know what to do being shown gratitude like this?!

Oh, shoot!? I hear Fuyume’s voice! He hates exercise and isn’t all that good at it either, but caught up to me through sheer determination…!

I-I’m so sorry, but I gotta go now! It’s over for me if I’m caught!

Subaru: It kinda feels like you’re in danger… Do you need me to hide you?

Esu: Ah, that’s very kind of you, but I’m alright! This is a problem I gotta resolve on my own…!

But if you’d like, do offer some incense at the grave over there, the one decorated with cutesy goods.

That one’s my father’s grave.

Subaru: Right. This cemetery is for those in the industry that need to be kept secret from the general public. Both your father and my dad rest here.

It was through some sort of fate I was able to meet you, and hear your words that made me happy, so… Yeah, I’ll be sure to offer some incense.

Esu: Thanks! I’m sure our fathers are happy too! It doesn’t seem like they were on good terms when they were alive, but everyone becomes a Buddha when they die, right?[3]

I’m sure all those concerns and karma have been thoroughly purified!

—Eek, his voice is getting closer! Maaan, I wanted to have a nice and quiet visit to his grave after all this time!

But, well, I also caused a ruckus for no reason, and disturbed Akehoshi-senpai’s visit to his grave! That makes it sort of a mutual karmic retribution, right!—kinda?

Subaru: It’s fine. My dad always liked it when things were lively.

I’m sure he’s standing beside your father, watching over with a smile on their faces—over us.

[ ☆ ]

story directory

A sparkly name (キラキラネーム) is a term that refers to a recent phenomenon of giving names that are over-extravagant and notably very difficult to read. Esu's name is written with the kanji 笑主, which is both very unrecognizable as a name (it uses the kanji for laugh/smile + the kanji for lord/master), the reading is also very unnatural. The phenomenon is similar to the one where people will name their babies stuff like "Mhackenzeigh" or "Lakynn". Since knowing that 笑主 is read as "Esu" doesn't come instinctively, it would be difficult to remember; hence Esu saying there's no need to remember it all.

Referring to the SS where Trickstar won, back in ! era. If you aren’t aware of what happens to Subaru and Trickstar during the event, I highly recommend reading SS - Friendship 14 until the end of the event story, else this entire scene won’t make as much sense.

Esu uses a lot of Buddhist terminology here. If you’re familiar with the idea of reaching enlightenment, once you reach enlightenment, you let go of all worldly possessions, realizations, attainments, and achievements. This is what is referred to when one becomes a Buddha.

#esu sagiri #idol #translation #subaru akehoshi

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non-stop-imagines · 8 months

Text

Red Lipstick Smudged

From this request 💖🤭

Pairing: Esteban Ocon x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you and Esteban just...couldn't wait.

Word Count: ~3.0k words

Warning: Porn with a plot??? (Let's just pretend that's true, car sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that jazz), online translator French, ruining clothing, Very mild orgasm denial but it's still there; Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Whew! I don't know why or how but, uh, yeah. Here this is. This request was a surprising one even though the actual request was simple, I was surprised to see it when it first came in. And what better song to use? 🤣 Now this is mainly based off that second part of Partition (y'all know 😏), but it gave me great smut writing practice so I ain't complaining if y'all aren't. Also, shoutout to 🌶️ anon, you are always just so sweet and kind and supportive and I think like you said, me going and doing something else brought new inspiration for that Carlos fic so, 💋 for you. And thank you to all my anons, with and without symbols, for showing me kindness and being patient with me and checking in on me. Whenever I get those messages it immediately calms my worries because I'm so glad that I have been able to create an environment where we feel comfortable checking on each other. 💖🩷 ANYWAY, happy reading! Hope you guys enjoy! Love you all!! 💖💛💖💛

Translations: Putain, ne me taquine pas.=Fuck, don't tease me; continue, chérie=keep going, darling; Ne pleurnichez pas.=Don't whine; Les yeux sur la putain de route.=Eyes on the fucking road; Regarde, pêches.=Look, peaches.

Masterlist

"You look amazing, as always." These words come after your boyfriend gets out of the backseat of the car waiting for you two, politely waving away the driver so he can be the one to open the door for you. After getting in you dab on a bit more lipstick while you and the driver waited for Esteban to get in.

"Merci, mon amour." You give light greeting kisses to the sides of your boyfriends face and then a very light peck to his lips in an effort not to transfer any of your red lipstick.

"What was that!?" He sounded mock offended at the briefness of the kiss, obviously desiring something bit more than just a peck from his girlfriend.

"What? I didn't use the smudge proof one. It's a pain trying to get it off and the color of this one is brighter. I just don't want to get it on your lips." Your thumb swipes at his lips in order to remove the little bit of color that did transfer from the kiss you gave him a moment ago, a gesture to which he instinctively accepts.

"You know I don't care about getting your lipstick on me." He couldn't take his eyes off of you when you took out a compact to check your lipstick. He loved red on you, and you knew it. That's why you wore the dress and the lipstick. You wanted to drive him absolutely insane at the event you two were on your way to. Wanted to see how long it would take for him to crumble and take you to the nearest secluded place to fuck you senseless.

"You don't mind lipstick getting on certain places." You click the compact mirror closed and give Esteban a cheeky side eye as you put it back in your pearly silver clutch.

"What do you mean by that?" He leaned his elbow on the back of the limo seat, his hand pushing back your soft hair that fell out of its place. He then realized you got your hair done, silk press and mildly curled to create soft waves.

"Do I have to remind you of the times you asked me to put this on before sucking your dick?" The look you gave him was a grave contrast to the words you just said, innocent and adoring.

"Ah. Can you blame me though? Your pretty red lips wrapped around my cock, leaving smudges, it's a lovely sight." He was trying to play it cool as your hand slowly crawled up his thigh, but he could feel his pants getting tighter, more uncomfortable.

"Well, the venue is another 45 minutes. I could give you a little show…" Your hands found their way to the hem of his pants, slowly undoing his belt.

"But the driver…" You were already crawling down between Esteban's thighs and pushing down his pants to expose his underwear more by the time he voiced his concern.

"Just tell him to roll up the partition." You continue your task of releasing his hard dick from the confines of his underwear, leaving him to instruct the driver in French.

You couldn't lie. You loved his dick. It was long, which, even though Esteban was tall and skinny so it should be expected, surprised you every time you saw it. It curves toward his belly button slightly, and the mauve tip was already leaking in anticipation. You look up at him through your eyelashes, maintaining eye contact as you kiss the head of his cock and let just the tip into your mouth, popping it back out a moment later.

"Putain, ne me taquine pas." You flash a pretty smile up at him, knowing you already complete control over him. He would always revert to speaking French when filled with high emotion, or in this case, anticipating the feeling of your warm mouth around his hard cock. You decide to be nice and not tease him any longer, opening your mouth wide to take as much of him as you could at that moment in your mouth, reminding yourself to relax your jaw, hollow out your cheeks and breathe through your nose. You pull back after going just barely halfway down his dick, licking your way up it with a flat tongue to distribute spit and possibly make it easier to get him further into your mouth.

Esteban's view of you was unmatched. Your eyes would move between maintaining eye contact with him and an intense focus on his dick. Your full red lips were the perfect transition as he watched his dick disappear and reappear from your mouth, and sure enough there were faint red streaks of lipstick along portions of his cock. Your dress had hiked up due to your kneeling position being unfavorable for the fabric of the dress, so the bottom half of your ass was visible. Your hair was desperately out of place, the previous streamline look now slightly puffier, some portions obviously misplaced. Esteban tries to reach to fix it, but you signal for him to wait.

"I'm sweating so it fucked anyway. Leave it." You suck him back into your mouth, regaining the head bobbing pace you had moments before, and using a hand to get whatever wasn't fitting. Your tongue enjoyed the warmth and texture of his dick, and the pleasure you could see clouding his brain made you hornier by the second. You continued to try hard to get as much as you could of him in your mouth, gagging when the tip reaches the back of your throat, and trying to focus on your breathing to distract you from the sensation. But this didn't stop the excess spit from dripping down your chin and tears from producing, and in your pleasure and concentration, it completely slipped your mind that you opted for regular mascara instead of lashes that night, that was until your boyfriend wiped below your eye and showed you the running mascara.

"You're wearing mascara. What about the lashes you usually wear?" The sentence came out prolonged and shaky since him promoting conversation didn't stop you from sucking on him.

"I got a stye the last time, remember? So I decided to give them a break." You had taken him out of your mouth to answer but kept stroking him with your hands, using the lathered spit to make the action easier. Every bit of makeup on your face was smudged, but your innocent eyes looking up at him as you spoke so matter-of-factly brought him unbearably close to a climax he didn't know he was at.

"Oh. Oh-continue, chérie." You smile again, giggling at the response that you were getting from him, then going back to bobbing your head, mentally competing with yourself, seeing if you could get past your gag reflex to take him deeper. You were taken off guard when you felt the buck of Esteban's hip, succeeding in pressing more of his dick into your mouth, the abrupt action producing more tears from your eyes and for more lathered spit to bubble from your mouth. He fucks your face a couple more times, but when you couldn't take it anymore you remove your mouth and resort to your hands to give your jaw a rest. You were beautiful and messy, satisfied with the work you had done and your facial expressions showed it, and just this sight drove Esteban over the edge. He gave no warning for the spurts of cum that came shooting from his cock, landing on various places of your face and chest, with some of it ending up on your dress.

"Damn it! You got cum on my dress. I could figure out the hair situation but this…is there anything we can use to clean it up?" You sat back on your heels and examined the splotch, wondering how and if you were able to get it off before getting to the charity event both Alpine drivers were invited to attend. Esteban had his mind on other things though, pushing more of his pants down while you weren't paying attention.

"To be honest, Pêches, the last thing on my mind is this fucking event. Come here." He takes one of your hands that was tending to your dress and attempts to guide you up to his lap. You were hesitant at first, for what reason you had no idea because after seeing Esteban's lap, slender toned thighs and semi-hard dick dripping reminiscence of cum onto the bottom of his button up, you were quick to straddle his waist, you widened thighs finishing the job of bunching the bottom of your dress at your waist. You almost immediately start rolling your his into his, you covered pussy gliding over him, the wetness it produced soaking through and getting on his dick.

The scene of hips gyrating into each other was a drastic contrast to the scene of your two faces observing each other. You scanned down his face, sweat beading around his brows, cheeks flushed and tinged red, and his lips, which you take a moment longer to study, were redder and you could see faint teeth marks in the bottom one. Esteban was still enamored by the messy look of your makeup, accented by a small streak of cum on your left cheek that he goes to wipe away. Your eyes conveyed an extreme amount of love and lust, nonverbally telling him exactly how much you loved him and how horny he made you, and boy, was the feeling mutual.

Esteban leaned in for a kiss, tilting his head up slightly since you kneeling on the seat made you tower over him slightly. You place your hands on the sides of his face to finish bringing him in for the kiss, purposefully making it sloppy to ensure the red on your lips fully transferred to his. His hands made their obvious way to your ass, gripping each cheek with long slender fingers, riding along as you continued to grind on him.

"Where are we? Are we close to the venue?" You move from kissing his lips to down his neck, leaving lipstick stains wherever they went. Esteban briefly looks out the windows, then utters something to the driver that he has to repeat since the first time it was obstructed by the rolled up partition. "What did you say?" You were still rolling your hips, finding the sensation almost comforting now, and your lips were swollen from the incessant kissing.

"I told him to drive past and take us back home. I'll text Pierre later. He owes me for the last time, anyway. Bailed on me, probably for a similar reason." His right hand slid from your butt to your pelvis, and in one smooth motion pulled your underwear to the side and ran two long slender fingers through your folds, having to do little work himself as you continued to move your hips, now focused on the sensation that the presence of his fingers gave. He stops you though, moving his hands to your hips to stop your motions. "Lift up." You do as told, fully up on your knees, sternum at his nose, waiting for his next action. You let a shocked gasp fall from your lips when you feel two long, slender fingers ease into you slowly, sliding in effortlessly from how impossibly wet you were. He pulls them out fully and lifts them to his line of sight, and you watch as he separates the two appendages to show strings of arousal connecting them. "I make you this wet? Either that or you just really enjoy sucking dick." He licks the juices from his fingers and then slides them back into you, fucking into you slowly, waiting for your answer.

"Both. But only if it's your dick." You wanted to taste yourself on his lips, so you littered them with kisses. Kissing him like he was your only source of oxygen, just so you could taste yourself from his lips. You only stop when a calloused thumb is pressed onto you clit.

"Good answer." He keeps his fingers going, the "come hither" motion being made reaching spots that you could only dream of reaching with your own. Esteban could feel, and hear, that you were getting wetter by the second, the squelching noises being accompanied by the sticky slickness of your overflowing juices with each thrust of his fingers. The back of the limo had a pleasantly lewd scent of sex that swirled so wonderfully with the combined notes of woodsy vanilla from your perfume and his cologne. He was getting irritatingly hard again and this time the only feeling that could even remotely help is that of your soft warm walls wrapped around him.

"I fucking love your fingers, Daddy." You moan, moving your hips meeting the thrusts of his fingers and trying to increase the pressure on your clit yourself. But Esteban had other plans, and as you guys ventured closer to the venue, he removed his fingers and hastily grabbed his dick, rubbed the tip along your slit and stuck just that in before placing his hands on your hips to push you down onto it himself.

"Sounds like you like my dick more, pêches." This was in response to the guttural "Oh my gosh" you let out after having no choice but to bottom out on his dick.

"You're so fucking deep, I don't-" You move one of your hands from your boyfriend's shoulder to the rear window if the limo, not having to do any work yourself as Esteban guides you down onto his cock and then thrusts you back up with his hips. You were already overwhelmed with how he felt inside of you, stretching you, dragging in and out, hitting your cervix with each thrust that it took you a moment to register the riiippp from the fabric of your dress and the feeling of the damp air on your now exposed boobs. "What the fuck?"

"Ne pleurnichez pas. I'll buy you a new one." He was hypnotized by the sight of your bouncing tits in his face, your moans a background sound that immerses him further. That is until an abrupt stop of the limo causes him to unintentionally thrust deeper into you, making you scream and let out expletives as Esteban examines the situation. He quickly identified the problem: the partition was only rolled up halfway at that point, so from what he could guess, the driver was so distracted from watching your ass bounce on his cock that he almost hit the person in front of him. "Les yeux sur la putain de route." He instructed quick and angrily before motioning for him to roll up the partition again. "Are you okay?"

For Esteban, there were very few, if any, views of you that didn't turn him on immensely, and the one he had at the moment was no different. Your breasts in his face, your exhausted, pleasure filled face tilted downward, hair falling forward with your tilted head, just trying to catch your breath and recover from the unexpected feeling you just experienced. "Mhmm. Just a shock."

"Okay." He continues again slower, using the faces you were making as a gauge for when he could go back to the pace he was at. Somehow everything was timed perfectly, because by the time he reached his previous pace, or what seemed to be faster because now you were starting to chase your own orgasm, the limo had reached the outskirts of the event, still a good amount of people waiting to get a glimpse of whatever celebrity they are able to. "Regarde, pêches. Completely oblivious to you being fucked out of your mind in the back of this limo. Want to give them a show, huh? Want to show them how much of a needy little cock-hungry girl you are?" His threats were empty, knowing that the driver was going to take the next side street to take you guys back home, but he wanted to hear you beg.

"Nooo…I wanna go home." You could only think about how good Esteban's dick made you feel, and how much better it would be in the comforts of your own home. More room available. Less inhibition. Free to get off however you pleased.

"Don't worry, Daddy will get you home." You nod at him, but continue to nod as your brain shuts out everything except the feeling of Esteban's cock reaching the deepest parts of your pussy and your own fingers strategically rubbing your clit. You just wanted to cum. Well, more like needed to cum, as you've been so unbearably horny since you saw Esteban dressed in his tux before you two even left the house. "But…" He uses one large hand to stop your little fingers from working your clit while he reversed his hips to fully retract himself from you, hard wer dick, covered in your juices, bobbing close to his stomach. "You have to wait to cum. Until we get home. Then I'll make you cum as many times as you want." He guides you off of his lap, pulls his own pants and underwear back up, and then removes his jacket to give to you, which you take after attempting to cover your chest with the ripped fabric of your silky red dress.

"You're an asshole, you know that." You mope in your seat as the driver continues back to your place, the surroundings becoming familiar again as you watch out the window.

"Say what you want, you'll pay when we get home." He reaches for your hand and gives it a brief kiss, his aura sweet, but his threatening promise still looking over you. You continue to avoid eye contact, but he knew that it was all a facade. You just enjoyed acting like a little brat when you guys fuck because you knew it irritated him in a way that made him want to fuck you harder just to shut you up. So, it was even less of a surprise when your other hand reached around to aid in ripping his button up open, buttons flying everywhere.

"I just had to make it fair. I couldn't be the only one with ripped clothing." You turned to look out the window again, your boyfriend's previous promise echoing in your head. As you neared home you made little annoying complaints here and there, because one thing about Esteban is that he always kept his promises.

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