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peterparkerslefttesticle · 2 years

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Fuck or Die

a peter parker sex pollen fic

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter comes into contact with sex pollen and his best friend wants to take away the pain

NO MINORS!!!!

not edited

“stay the fuck away from me. please,”

it had been a week since you’d seen your best friend, peter. he’d been away on a mission, along with a few other avengers.

being the baby of the team, you definitely weren’t told everything. or anything really, if it didn’t directly affect you.

“just tell me what is going on!” you screamed at the quarantined boy, voice muffled through the thick glass.

peter was crying at this point, an all consuming burn firing through his veins, predominately the veins down low.

“sweetheart come with me. your not helping by screaming at him,” tony tried peeling you from the hall, but you stood your ground

“why does no one tell me what’s happening? when are you guys going to stop treating me like a baby, i’m 18 for fucks sake!” now peter wasn’t the only one crying.

out of the corner of your cloudy vision you could see his form cowering in the corner, convulsing almost.

“please! he’s my best friend. i deserve to know what’s going on!”

“it’s not about us keeping information from you. it’s just that this is… sensitive.” stark’s brow wrinkled, stress emanating from his form.

this time when he pulled you away, tou didn’t fight.

sensitive?

what could possibly be sensitive enough that you can’t know why your best friend looks like he’s about to die???

once in the lab, you and the iron man sit down.

“look kid, something happened on our mission,”

“yeah no shit,” if looks could kill, stark would’ve murdered you months ago. but probably gotten wanda to resurrect you so his steely gaze could kill you again now.

“i’m serious. parker was doing recon in one of fisk’s bases while we fought his men outside. he found a thing… some sort of explosive gas. when he picked one up for closer inspection it erupted.” tony looked apprehensive, almost waiting for an eruption of his own.

“ok. i’m just gonna say it. sex pollen. it was sex pollen. there’s no way around it. peter exploded a sex pollen bomb.”

the way your jaw unhinged looked inhumane. “WHAT?” you gaped. “like, that weird shit from fanfiction? like the weird shit that makes someone fuck or die? are we in the fucking omega verse right now???”

“i’m going to pretend i know what the omega verse is,” the man clears his throat, “but uh, kind of? he won’t die, but unless he… y’know.. he’ll just kind of be in an unimaginable state of pain for the next,” he checks his watch, “22 hours.”

it took a minute to process the aforementioned information. peter had been affected by sex pollen? you guessed that explained his need to be away from you. but imagining your poor peter in pain for almost another day?

“so why aren’t you doing anything? wait that came out wrong.”

this was probably the most awkard conversation you’d had with tony, even after he caught you “making out” with brad in senior year.

“i meant to say, what’s being done to help him? surely there’s something. i know it’ll pass but fuck, i can’t live with myself knowing pete’s in that room hurting.” you felt a pit of guilt lounging in your gut.

wait it was guilt right? why does your guilt feel like it’s… lower… than it should be.

were you seriously fucking TURNED ON from thinking about your best friend being so horny that it hurts? well, if you worded it like that, yeah.

“we offered him… services. not from us obviously. like, paid services. or anything he wants. but he refused. something about ‘respecting women’ yada yada yada.” stark jests, but you can see the fatherly worry seeping out.

with out another thought, you leave tony in the lab and spring back to parker’s quarantine unit.

“pete you need to accept help! look at yourself” he was worse for wear, even since you saw him 10 minutes ago

his suit was half off his body, which was dripping with sweat. and as much as you tried to ignore it, a large bulge had appeared through the fabric.

he could barely meet your eyes, his own bloodshot, hair matted to his forehead.

“you know i can’t. i can’t control my strength like this. i could hurt someone.” the spider cried out

“not me,” your eyes finally lock. “you can’t hurt me. you know that. we’ve trained together. i’m stronger than you.”

your powers may have made your life a living nightmare, but the strength was definitely a plus. you had sparred countless times, and not once had he hurt you. or beat you for that matter.

“i- i can’t” his voice broke as his body convulsed once more, ungloved hands going to cover his dick.

“if you want to, you can. I’m here pete. I don’t want to see you like this. And i don’t want you to worry about all your moral shit. your not taking advantage of me. your not going to hurt me. i want this. i want to help you, if that’s what you want.”

silence. a few beats go by, before a small “please” meets your ears.

in a blink of an eye you slide your hand over the sensor, unlocking the door to his cell.

your heart broke to a million pieces seeing the broken boy. if you didn’t know better you would have assumed he was succumbing to a deathly injury.

“curtains. there’s curtains.” he gestures to blue hospital curtains that have the potential to cover the glass wall between them and the hall way.

as you pull the curtain, the last thing you see is a worried/disgusted/embarrassed tony. poor guy. knowing his ‘son’ and new recruit were about to get it on.

“FRIDAY, lock down and sound proof the floor once i get in the elevator.” tony yelled, mumbling something about ‘for the good of mankind’.

you drop to your knees next to peters warm frame. the restraint he used to not fuck you right there looked painful.

“If you want this, I want this. I would do anything for you spidey. even if it means fucking my best friend into oblivion,” you say to him, a strained chuckle leaving his chest.

“i won’t be able to stop. i would rather go through this a hundred times then hurt you or screw up our friendship.”

“you won’t. i can handle it. please fuck me pete.”

he turns to a rabid animal with the speed he meshes your lips. the carnal devouring of your face dials up your arousal, and he can smell it.

“wow. you’re fucking sick. getting turned on by your best friend in pain,” he mumbled into your neck, trailing teeth and tongue down your décolletage.

you couldn’t even form a response, to focused on the way his bear chest felt under your fingers, and the way his boner grinded into your crotch.

practised hands pop open the buttons of your shirt, and i clasp the bra you donned. thank god you wore a nice one today.

“mmm pretty bra. planning on fucking brad later?” the boy teased.

“only you. always you.” you grinded harder onto his cock, frustrated at the layers separating you.

“fuck i’ve always dreamt of fucking you. fucking you so good. so so good” a piercing cry leaves your lips as he bites your nipple, kissing it better after.

his tongue was magic, working its way all over your chest. he groped and grasped your breast, alternating one in his mouth, one in his mouth.

even with all his talk, you could see his facade fading.

“peter just fuck me. i know you need it.”

“but what about yo-“

“pete i’m soaked. i’m fine. i just want to make you feel better.” with this, he lets you take charge. he (attempts) to rip his suit off while you pull down your sweats, and eventually a lacy pair of panties.

a guttural groan leaves his lips when he sees the glistening mound before him, he goes to put his mouth forward, but you stop him, kneeling over his lap despite his whine.

“i told you. this is about you. making you feel better.” you laughed at his pathetic attempt at removing the sweat soaked suit.

you pull it down just enough to reveal his angry member. it was thicker than you were used to, longer as well, and a small wave of fear rolled through your stomach.

his dick was red, twitching and leaking. you could practically feel his pain just by looking at it.

he hissed when you slid him up your slit, soaking it with your juices.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered as he slammed your hips down onto him. the scream you let out would definitely surpass stark’s soundproofing.

tears stream down his face at the relief of your silk pussy embarrassing his dick. but he didn’t have long to revel in the comfort. he continued to slam into you with a brutal pace. the erotic wet sounds were enough to put porn to shame.

both of your faces contorted with the pleasure.

“fuck spider you’re fucking me so good. i wanna make you come. want your cum to fill my pussy so good.” his pace was so bruising that his groin pounded into your clit with every thrust.

you couldn’t warn him of the imminent coil about to burst as you gushed around his erection. no noise came out of your mouth except for the unholy moans and expletives.

something you never expected about pete, was his vocalness in bed. god, you would be imagining his noises for weeks to come, hand between your legs.

he was louder than you, which you didn’t think possible, though none of it was legible. his broken words were drowned out by his heavenly moans. with every thrust there came a new ‘ugh’, ‘ngugh’, and ‘fuhhh’.

and god did it get you going.

just listening to his groans had you verging on another orgasm. and he wasn’t too far behind.

peter kept repeating the words “soon” and “close”.

“god pete your so hot. so good to me. fucking me so good. please come baby. i want your cum to fill me up so good. need it baby. need your cum.” you slammed your hips down to meet his every movement, chasing the fast approaching high.

“i’m coming. coming. gonna come,” and with the most dirty, unholy, erotic noise ever made before, peter came.

you could feel the warm seed filling your cunt as you reached your peak, fucking his cum deeper into your cavity.

peter collapsed almost immediately, chest heaving as he sprawled onto the cold foor. you followed in suit, falling flat onto his chest, dick still sheathed inside.

it was deadly silent for at least 5 minutes, and you were sure he had fallen asleep until you head him say “i didn’t hurt you did i?” he lifted your body up, allowing his softened member to leave your body.

“i told you i could handle it, and i did.” you looked up to meet his tired eyes “you didn’t hurt me pete. and even if you had it would have been worth it. how are you feeling now?”

you brushed some hair out of his face, his soft breath brushing against yours. “god i feel so much better. i’m forever indebted to you. that hurt like a bitch.” he chuckled and closed his eyes. “seriously though, thank you. i don’t know what i did to deserve a friend like you.” he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, both of you choosing to ignore the bear skin and leaking fluids pouring you of your pussy.

he whined when you got up, and for a second you thought he would pull you back down. you entered the joined bathroom to get towels.

with gentle hands you soaked up the sticky substances residing over parker’s stomach “i think you’re gonna need this dry cleaned.” you mention, staring at the very stained suit.

he jerked when you gently wiped his cock, but relaxed into your touch nonetheless.

“i think we permanently traumatised mr stark,” peter chortled as he pulled your now clean body into the folding cot that lay in the room.

you giggled with him “yeah, i’m pretty sure even with the soundproofing the entire tower could hear you.” you smirked

the boy turned beet red, and nestled his face into yours, “hey! it wasn’t just me!”

the two of you spent the rest of the night on the small bed, neither with the strength to leave the room.

peter fell asleep first, but you stayed up a little to ponder the future of your friendship after today. however confused you may be, one thing was definitely sure.

there was no way you weren’t fucking peter parker again

#spiderman #peter parker #spiderman smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #fanfiction #smut #marvel #marvel smut #the avengers #avengers smut #andrew garfield smut #tom holland smut #tom holland

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beetlejuicyy · 11 days

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Ascension | True Form! Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Ryomen Sukuna is a ruthless monster who takes pleasure in slaughter and destruction. You are his favorite, but that makes the other servants on his estate envy your status. What will master Sukuna do to you when he hears the rumors of his favorite slut bedding a common servant from the kitchen?

Warnings: all of them lol it's sukuna violence, blood, death, sexual content, graphic description, exhibitionism (if there are any others I should mention please let me know)

Word count: 6,518

Read on AO3

Notes: I also had the audacity to end it with fluff??

Masterlist

The corridor leading to master Sukuna’s chambers was infinite. You had walked along the creaking wooden floor so many times before, shortly after you went into his service. Stories of unimaginable violence were spreading from servant to servant, starting with the man who would fix a broken wall to the girl wiping blood off clothes. Clothes of men and women who were called in but never came back. He was a monster. Tall muscular body and four arms, always towering over mortals from his throne in the main hall. People were saying he could have your body sliced in half with only one look from afar. Four blood red eyes, feeding off the trembling of voices, shaking of bodies begging for forgiveness. He had none to spare.

However gruesome the stories about Ryomen Sukuna were all over the country, people still flocked to his mansion, offering their services. People with nowhere left to go, people betrayed and hunted by their own kind, the weak, the poor, the lonely. As much of a monster as he was, his home provided a purpose and a haven for those with no place left among humans.

You were no different. When he first summoned you to his chambers, you expected the most painful and humiliating fuck you could ever imagine.

Violence turns him on.

A lot of the women who survived his bed were saying the same thing. Especially then, when he had just come back from killing an entire village, leaving fire and blood in his footsteps, he was sexually aroused for sure. The girl who was going to be summoned that night was going to die, everyone was sure of that. But you didn’t.

“Men are pathetic.” You told him, looking straight to the floor. That was the first time you saw him, sitting high on his throne, an immaculate white yukata covering his now clean body. No sign of the disasters he had brought upon were left on his body, except the obvious erection you could see poking from underneath the fabric. He crossed one muscular leg over the other, resting his chin on the palm of his lower left arm.

“How so?” His voice didn’t scare you, like you expected. But then again, after you walked along the hall and stopped in front of the stairs of his throne, you couldn’t look at him anymore. His form was so imposing, so intimidating, towering over you. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a god.

“They kill and they rape and they destroy. But they pretend to be righteous.” You were wearing a royal green kimono that softened the red of your skin, as blood was running rapidly through your veins.

“I did the same thing just earlier.” He said, exposing his sharp teeth in a vicious grin, as if he had just caught you lying.

“They are weak, master. You are a god.” You forced your eyes away from the floor. If you were to survive in his service, you had one simple thing to do. Obey. “I would rather serve you, my lord.”

He looked at you in silence, all four eyes quietly analyzing you, your posture, your face, your breasts that barely fit in the kimono who belonged to someone else. You could hear the sound of your own breath, empty air echoing in your lungs. He was unmoved.

“I’ve heard this tale before.” He said, eyes looking down at you through lashes.

He never seemed bothered by your daring eyes so you compelled them to keep looking up. You were sick and twisted compared to other people, you’ve noticed it since you were a child. Maybe that’s why, contrary to all the stories you’ve heard in the first few days you had already spent there, you found Sukuna handsome, more than anything else. Yes, he was a monster in size and in strength, his build terrifying, his eyes piercing and deadly. But all of these things came together as hunky, almost statuesque. The way he was looking at you, a mix of boredom and indifference to your existence, like he controlled the way the universe worked. Your eyes roamed along his body, taking advantage of the time he took to ponder on your fate. The most popular rumor, that was acknowledged as a fact by all the stories circulating, was that he had two cocks. Your eyes fell on his lap and your lips parted slightly in curiosity. Did he really? You were so focused on his body that you didn’t notice the corners of his mouth curled in a perverted grin splattered across his face. Sukuna noticed you were practically undressing him with your eyes alone.

“You seem to be sincere.” His voice reverberated in the empty hall, snapping you out of your daydream. You looked at him with eyes round in surprise as he gestured for you to approach him, his arm extended towards you, rough long fingers inviting.

This time, however, you had the feeling you weren’t going to be coming back alive. You had become his favorite quickly. He would always call for a different woman, most of the time specifying certain features that she had to possess. One night he wanted a short woman, the other a big breasted one with short hair, other times he wanted a woman with visible scars on her body. He never knew their names and never bothered with remembering. They were simple objects to fulfill his bodily needs. Soon, he started asking for you, specifically by name. In no time, you were the only one summoned to his chambers. People noticed it as did you, and you began getting ready, washing your body, bathing in perfumes, decorating it with jewels and the most beautiful of fabrics, knowing Sukuna would soon be back drunk on brutality and violence, eager to fuck you numb.

At first, the other servants were relieved. The women gradually let go of the crippling fear of being chosen to entertain the master in his chambers, the men relieved of the fear that, if the woman they brought in front of the master failed to satisfy him, their bodies would be slashed in pieces. But lack of fear allowed enough space for other emotions in the hearts of the servants.

Envy.

You were too quiet, too serene. As if you enjoyed your status. Moreover, the stories about what was happening behind the closed doors of his chambers were now scarce. You abstained from talking about it to others and, besides the usual bruises that covered your body all the time, there were no signs of violence or terror inflicted upon you. Much to their dismay, when you would return to your room, long after sunrise, a smile of satisfaction would always be plastered on your worn out face. You enjoyed whatever was happening to you. And that gave you power.

This is how you ended up being framed. A few servants, both men and women, came up with a false narrative, accusing you of giving yourself to one of the boys working at the kitchen. They had seen you helping him bandage a deep meat knife cut. From that simple gesture to detailed falsehood about sexual activities was only one step. First, they spread it amongst each other and now they went directly to master Sukuna to inform him that his favorite slut was throwing herself at any man.

All you could do was deny. You had been summoned to the main hall and you knew exactly why. It was your word against theirs but, as much time as you spent in Sukuna’s company, you didn’t know if he cared enough to even find the truth. None of his women were allowed to be touched by any other man. There had been multiple instances when the women he forcefully took had lovers or even husbands that they tried to go back to and they all ended up decapitated. You finally reached the end of the corridor, palms sweaty and heart beating relentlessly in your chest.

Pushing the doors open, the first thing you laid your eyes upon was Sukuna, sitting high on his throne, a depraved look glistening in all of his four eyes. On either side of the room stood your accusers, more than you would have imagined. At least half of the servants of the estate were standing humbly, heads kept down, eyes sticking to the floor. Contrary to their form, you could see the looks of pride on some of their faces, while others seemed to doubt the success of their plan. In the middle of the room there was a large futon mat. It was there often times when Sukuna enjoyed having you touch yourself while he instructed your every move as he sat on his throne. You thought you saw the servants take it out last time.

Sukuna didn’t say a word. Only his superior grin could be a hint as to how this charade was going to end, but you never knew what to expect from his eyes clouded with lust when he looked at you. You walked in, not expecting any formal invitation, passing by the group of servants, not bothering to spare them a look. The only important thing was in front of you, sitting at the top of the stairs, sunk back in his throne, legs parted widely, four arms crossed across his chest. You felt like a mouse walking right into a trap.

“I’ve heard some interesting stories from your friends.” His low voice echoed in the room. It seemed as if you were being choked by an invisible hand. “I believe you’re aware of it.”

“They’re all lies, my lord.” You answered, just as you had planned. You had your most beautiful attire on, your most prized golden hairpin he had gifted you. But you didn’t expect he would have the accusers present while he would decide your punishment. Your ears picked up a faint sound of rushed breaths and steps behind you, as one of the women tried to argue with your answer. Sukuna ignored her as well, all his attention on you. “My body and my soul belong to you, master. You can use them however you consider suitable.” In response to your last words he grinned, that wide grin that exposed his teeth, like a predator.

“Come here, slut.” Pressing your lips together in anxiety, you grabbed the sides of your long kimono and pulled it up as you climbed up the steps of his throne.

The servants looked in shock at your body gradually ascending to their master’s place. No one was allowed to even dream to stand as high as him. He had fucked you before on his throne multiple times, especially after fights with jujutsu sorcerers that would wear out his body but make his cocks hard, his skin still stained with the blood of those he had slain. When you reached the last step you dared to look at him. It was one of the few instances when you got to look down at him, as you stood up in front of him while he comfortably sat on his throne. His arms were now resting at his sides, his crimson eyes filled with contained rage. The closer you got to him, the more you could feel the killing intent lingering in the air. He looked at you with indecipherable lust. For sex? For killing? For revenge?

“Show them how you serve your master.” Sukuna’s command had air stuck in your throat and eyes widened in shock.

You expected to be punished, even killed, although you had grown to trust him and feel safe in his presence. But not to have you humiliated in the front of the very people who falsely accused you. Your lips parted in a pathetic attempt to protest. No sound came out. You took a moment, one that would have gotten any other human in your shoes killed in an instant, to look for the reason in his eyes. Have you become arrogant enough to think you knew him that well? The only thing you could see in his wicked gaze was your own reflection, nothing else beyond the crystal clear layer of his four eyes. You obeyed, conscious that you were a moment too late. You ought to be punished for that too. But did it even matter, given your situation?

You kneeled down in front of him, his eyes following your face as it lowered until it was at the same level with his crotch. Your hands effortlessly worked on the knot tied at his waist, undoing it. You heard gasps and murmurs from the people filling the room when your hand reached under the fabric of his clothes, pushing it away and displaying his two throbbing cocks. Most of these people had only heard stories about it. You licked the top one, pressing your tongue flat along its length, while your hands gently stroked the other one, cupping his thick balls full of seed waiting to be released. This was your chance to maintain your status, to remain in his good graces, so you tried to ignore the thought of all those people watching you sucking Sukuna’s cocks. He let you adjust to his size quietly, one hand reaching to take the golden hairpin out of your dark long locks and throwing it away. Your hair fell down over your shoulders and back, thin strands sticking to your face. The metal fell down the stairs with sharp noise that covered the wet sounds of you slurping and licking his cock. The pin fell tapping in the middle of the group of people but none of them dared to move, even though its worth could have easily earned them a new life.

Some of them were looking anywhere else but at your small body compared to his beastly frame, as your head bobbed up and down his length, unable to ignore the sounds. Others, on the contrary, mostly men, were watching fascinated. Sukuna’s upper right hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing it away from your face and you looked up at him when his rough knuckles grazed faintly against your cheek. Your eyes met his only for a fraction of a second before he pushed your head roughly, forcing his cock deeper inside your mouth to touch the back of your throat. He groaned in pleasure, a deep guttural sound coming from deep inside his throat as you choked, tears filling the corners of your eyes.

“Undress.” Sukuna commanded.

You let him fuck your mouth as your hands moved away from his other cock. More than anything, you needed your hold on him for stability. While your body was shaking with every thrust of his cock inside your mouth, his hand a tight grip in your hair keeping your head steady. Your trembling hands moved to weakly remove your obi and push the hems of the kimono away, the soft fabric slipping off your shoulders and falling around you on the floor. You had almost forgot people were watching, but you heart a faint constrained reaction from the crowd as your naked body was revealed. They could only see your back, some of the lucky ones your large breasts from the side as they jiggled in the rhythm of master Sukuna’s movements. Your hands desperately searched to get a hold of his body as soon as you fulfilled his command. One of your hands found his thigh while the other faintly touched his lower cock before he pulled out of your mouth.

You could feel the taste of his precum deep inside your throat. His upper left hand grabbed your jaw harshly. He pulled your face closer to him, forcing you up from the floor. If he wanted to, he could throw you away from up there, and you would land on the other side of the room, skull crushed against the wall. The thought sent terror through your entire body and you began shaking in fear. Instead of this, he held you by the jaw a few inches away from his face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He could see the distress in your eyes and he grinned maniacally. You could feel his hot breath on your face as his cocks rubbed against your chest, between your breasts, while his large lower hands cupped them together, his sharp nails scratching the soft sensitive skin. Eager to satisfy his needs and cling to your pathetic life, you moved your body along his length, creating friction between his cocks and your breasts. Your hands grabbed his forearms for support as you moved and his grip on your jaw softened, allowing you to move up and down as you needed. He cooed in approval against your lips, only for you to hear. A good sign.

“You’re so eager to please.” He said loudly, for everyone to hear. You wanted to play along, let yourself consumed by the humiliation of the servants seeing you being used like a sexual object only for Sukuna’s pleasure. The more time your spent looking in his darkened red eyes, the more you forgot about the people watching. No, that was wrong. You were not forgetting. You were enjoying it.

“Yes ma-“ You noticed his lower eye look to the side full of rage right before the screams of people covered the low sloppy sounds of his cocks fucking your tits.

"Silence." He growled and the commotion stopped, people biting their tongues and looking away from the headless body on the floor, head rolled a few feet away.

Some were sobbing. Others were frozen with terror. The man that just died in an instant was about to touch himself, turned on by the sight of you. No one was allowed to take pleasure in what belonged to Sukuna. You felt his cocks throbbing even more aroused between your breasts and you knew it wasn't just the warm and soft feeling of your body that got him that hard.

Violence turns him on.

Sukuna pushed you by the head, forcing you to take one of his cocks in your mouth again. This time he was aiming to cum, as both his upper hands were holding your head in place, with each movement the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he groaned like a beast. Your hands grabbed his thighs, nails digging into his skin as you took his entire length in and out of your mouth, your tongue running along the veins of his cock. You took a chance to look up at him, knowing he enjoyed the sight of your face while he fucked it relentlessly, teary eyes and brows furrowed upwards in a helpless expression. Instead, you saw his head thrown back in pleasure, mouth slightly open to let out ungodly sounds. Tears fell down your cheeks but you enjoyed the sound of his grunts, and you joined him with moans that reverberated around his girth. He came in no time, one cock inside your mouth the other on your chest. You swallowed all that he gave to you as the tip of his cock softly rubbed against your lips, the last drops of his milky seed dripping at the edges of your mouth.

“Thank you, my lord.” You moaned, grateful, looking up at him through your lashes, waiting anxiously for his next move.

You heard several overlapping sounds of meat slashing, blood spilling and bodies falling on the floor. Sukuna was taking his time effortlessly killing every single man whose dick got unbearably hard because of you, one by one. You were still with your back turned to the crowd so you could only imagine the number of butchered people and the terrified sight of the ones still left alive.

Sukuna let his robe fall off his shoulders on the throne as he leaned down to grab you by the waist, pulling you up over his large shoulder as he descended the stairs. You let your small body relax, hanging over his muscular one, your soft belly pressed against his shoulder. One hand held you firmly by the waist while the other had both your ankles in a lose grip, holding you in place as he walked down the stairs. He was completely naked as were you. Your feet dangled against his abdomen, your ass and leaking cunt exposed. You didn’t even realize you had gotten so wet until the cool air hit your folds. He could feel your juices on his chest as your thighs rubbed together against his skin and he grinned to himself. He hadn’t even done anything to you yet.

With his every step, you could see more and more of the people filling the room. It was a horrifying sight. Blood was pooling on the floor, people were trying to avoid looking at the dead bodies while also avoiding looking at their master, looking at you, at the same time. It was impossible. Your accusers, who were so certain they would get rid of you, were dying one by one.

Sukuna let you fall off his shoulder on the mattress in the middle of the room. So he had it prepared for this, you thought. Suddenly, as you were laying on your back while he stood up next to you, waiting, you became extremely aware of all the eyes looking at your naked body. Up on the throne you felt safer, above everyone else. Who cared if they were watching you choke on their master’s cocks? But down here, with all these people, blood and killing surrounding you, a spark of fright erupted in your mind. What if master Sukuna was going to leave you here? Wasn’t this the most sadistic end you could meet? He got the servants tormented by the deaths of their own, all because of you, and now he was going to let them get their revenge. They would tear you to pieces. You desperately tried to hide your large breasts with your arms, pressing your legs together as if he didn’t parade around with you and your soaking cunt over his shoulder moments ago. You looked up at him with wide doubtful eyes. When did you become so uneasy in his presence?

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You didn’t know at whom this question was directed. His voice was coated with a thick sense of dominance.

In the following seconds, you saw three people falling to the ground, blood spilling out of their bodies. Sukuna kneeled down next to you, grabbing you by the ankles and raising your legs up in the air. The back of your thighs pressed against his abdomen where his tongue rolled out and licked the soft skin. You whimpered, feeling the burning sensation in your lower body that meant one thing you knew very well. Your cunt needed him. Your legs eagerly wrapped around his neck, the feeling of his soft pink hair on your skin making your shiver. You tried pulling him closer to you, but he only watched, amused. You were struggling to have his body closer to yours, get him to penetrate you already. His lower arms pinned your legs in place while another hand lightly slapped you across the face.

“Beg.”

You had never quite felt the need for him to own you like you did right now. You were desperately clinging to him, ever fiber in your being telling you that the only way you could be safe, the only place you belonged to was in his possession.

“Please master.” You whined, without any second thought.

Somehow, only unconsciously, you knew that the reason he took a liking to you was that you weren’t afraid of him. Not once before this day did you doubt your master. The fact that you found him ravishing, the fact that you carnally wanted him so bad out of your own accord, it was something he never expected but got addicted to. Sure, taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted gave him a sort of high only power could attain. But to feel needed, to feel wanted like you wanted him, to have you suck on his cocks so eagerly, beg for him to fuck you like an animal, cry out in pleasure because of his touch, Sukuna would never give up on these things.

“Please, punish me like I deserve.”

You gasped out of air when you felt his lower cock easily sink deep into your moist pussy, while his top cock rubbed against your folds. The feeling of your warm walls clenching around his girth sent a wave of indescribable pleasure through him, a pleasure that only made him eager to chase even more. His movements picked up a fast paced rhythm from the start, balls slamming against your ass with every slap of his hips against yours. He had his upper arms around your legs, keeping them up on one of his shoulders, while his other rough large hands were grabbing your breasts, kneading, playing with your nipples. You began moaning uncontrollably, the mixed sensation of the cock inside your cunt and the stimulation of the cock rubbing against your folds and over your clit with each thrust sending overwhelming waves of pleasure through your body. Your fists were grabbing the mattress tightly, your body hot and sweaty.

Through half open eyes you could see the golden hairpin on the floor and a woman trying to walk and pick it up. Fool. She really thought Sukuna wouldn’t see her, too drunk on your body to pay attention to his surroundings anymore. You could understand, though. Any man fucking with such violence and focus like he was thrusting inside of you was sure to lose all his other senses. But Sukuna wasn’t just a man. He was your god. Part of you wanted to warn her, tell her not to test her luck. Her head was sliced off her neck right when she was ready to reach out and grab the hairpin.

Your eyes were already tightly shut when that happened, the feeling of Sukuna’s cock throbbing inside you ready to release having your walls clench around him and your whines louder, more desperate as you approached your orgasm as well. He pushed your legs open, leaning over you, reaching deeper and deeper into your sensitive hole. You felt the wet tongue on his abdomen again, licking the sweat off your tummy, circling around your navel. The strain on your thighs was getting more and more painful the more he pushed his heavy body against yours.

“I would massacre the whole country for you.” He grunted against your lips.

His name reverberated in the room when you screamed it as your orgasm washed over you. His cum filled your hole, his sticky seed overflowing and dripping along your thighs and your ass. His other cock released his seed on your belly. Your fucked out face was the most beautiful thing Sukuna had ever witnessed in his life. All hot and sweaty, hair a mess around you like a halo, biting your lips, your eyes closed your eyebrows furrowed as if you still felt him inside you. The sight of your body covered in his seed, marking you as his and his only. It only made him want to ruin you even more. You opened your eyes lazily, your chest rising and falling with big movements as you sucked air inside your lungs.

You saw his eyes already fixed on you. Around the room was only death and blood and despair, while Sukuna sat down calmly, eyes fixed on you. You lost count of how many people were dead and how many were still watching. He didn’t call out for you, didn’t gesture in any way, but his eyes were imperative, commanding you without any effort. You forced your body up, supporting your weight on your arms. You crawled to him slowly, already feeling a mellow pain between your legs that would sure hurt a lot more the next day. He welcomed you at his side, a hand placed between your shoulder blades gently pushing you over his lap. You laid on your belly obediently over his strong thighs. His fingers ghosted over the line of your spine passing over the round curve of your ass.

His right hand was still aimlessly feeling the smoothness of your skin when his other right palm landed in a harsh slap over you other cheek. You cried out in pain, right before you felt two fingers of his left hand savagely pushed inside your mouth. You sucked on his fingers as he landed the second, then the third slap, the muffled sounds of your whines echoing from your throat. He spanked you again, in the same spot, and your eyes filled with tears at the growingly stinging sensation. Sukuna was consumed by your touch, by your scent. He loved how easily you got wet because of him. He could smell it before you were even aware of it. When he pulled you up from the floor, carrying you on his shoulder, your cunt was so close to his face, so obviously releasing that delicious scent of your leaking arousal that had his mouth water. Now he had you sprawled on his lap, the need to consume you insatiable. The urge to abuse your body until you were a trembling mess, unable to control it anymore. He leaned over just when you were expecting another painful slap and he sank his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass. He was careful enough not to seriously hurt you, but impatient to feel you in every way, leave his mark wherever he could. You cried out, drool falling at the corners of your mouth around his fingers. He pulled his teeth away and licked the round red mark left on your skin, making you shiver.

Another slap landed on your other ass cheek and he grabbed a fistful of your hair with his free left hand, forcing your body to arch painfully much. He leaned his face closer to yours, fingers still in your mouth. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, his deep red eyes swallowing you whole.

“Who do you belong to, slut?” When you tried to answer you choked on his fingers, unable to articulate any word.

He slapped you again, his other hand squeezing between your thighs. He could feel your juices mixed with his cum drip over his thigh. Sukuna knew slapping your ass was guaranteed to have your cunt drenched. He wouldn’t repeat himself. You squeezed your eyes shut when his large hand landed another slap, his fingers slightly pulling away from your mouth, allowing you to speak.

“I belong to you, master.” His fingers fell from your lips down your jaw to have your neck in a tight grip, choking you and forcing you to look at him.

“Then you can take your master’s cocks at the same time, can’t you?”

“Yes, master.” You replied weakly. He slapped your face, demanding a better, more convincing answer. “Please, master. I need both your cocks inside me.”

Sukuna seemed pleased with your answer, grinning at your deplorable state. You pushed your muscles to stand but he quickly and easily handled your body, using you as he pleased. He had you on all fours, your face sunk in the mattress soaked with your sweat. He ran his palm along your pussy, feeling his fingers slip, drenched in your arousal, as his lower arms had your hips pinned exactly where he needed you. You cried out in pain, feeling both his cocks stretching your walls. He was massive anyway, and now you had to take double the size. As dripping wet as you were, you still whined in discomfort when he forced himself into you. The mattress was wet with your tears and the room filled with your cries of pain that gradually turned into moans as you adjusted around him and pleasure overcame the pain. He slammed his hips violently against your ass, pulling you into him, his nails digging in your skin. One of his hands was on your head, pushing it further, keeping you in place as if you were a doll specifically made to fulfill his needs.

The beastly sounds he let out seemed to come from deeper inside his being, so savage and violent that seemed he was going to break you in half. You were too fucked out to pick up the sounds around you anymore, only his animalistic groans as he hit your insides, covering your moans and whimpers. You only felt a faint splash of hot thick liquid falling at your sides and the smell of fresh blood mixing with the smell of sex. You didn’t open your eyes until you were out of the room, not even when Sukuna came again inside you, his cum not fitting inside your pussy anymore, leaking out, spilling on the mattress and on your ass. Your body fell limp, exhausted and dirty, as soon as he let you out of his grip. The room grew silent like a grave, only Sukuna’s panting triumphantly overcoming everything.

You felt him pick you up in his arms and carry you in the other room, where two frightened servant girls wiped your body clean of the cum, sweat and blood. You moaned in pain when the wet cloth grazed against parts of your body that were already turning purple. Your body was starting to feel cold.

The feeling of being submerged in warm water was the most comforting thing. That is until you felt Sukuna’s large frame behind you, your back resting against his chest, his hands gently pouring water over your shoulders. You sank into his embrace, flesh melting on your bones. His lips hovered above yours, as if testing to see if you were awake. Or if you would allow it? You pressed your lips against his weakly, and he kissed you gently, almost surprised that he was capable of such a soft touch. You opened your eyes languidly, the first thing you saw being the half opened door that lead to the room where a few servants were already cleaning up the blood and bodies. As if you had only dreamed about it, you blinked several times. Sukuna had killed all the people that accused you.

“So, did you?” Sukuna’s husky voice gently purred in your ear.

“Hm?” You asked, eyes still on the other room, as if you didn’t hear.

“Did you fuck the servant from the kitchen?” He asked calmly, almost unbothered, as if he didn’t kill so many people because of it. Your back straightened and your head turned to him, finding the last bit of strength in indignation.

“Of course not!” He grinned at your fervor. “Did you… ever consider it to be true?”

“I don’t need unthankful servants to tell me. I would smell it on you.” There was a hint of threat in his voice, like warning you not to ever do something you would regret. When you looked at him questioningly, he pulled you closer, pushing your back against him, his cheek touching your soft hair. His hand cupped one of your breasts as he spoke, squeezing it, running his fingers over your warm skin. “If you’re afraid, if you’re sad, if you’re angry, if you’re horny. I can smell it on you.” His other hand ran down on your body, fingers resting just above your pussy. “Now imagine if someone else touches you. You would reek of dirty human.” You were sore already, drained. But you didn’t fight his touch, you didn’t try to stop him.

“I am a human too, master Sukuna.” You said and your breath hitched when you felt his fingers lightly rub circles around your clit.

“No.” He argued, your heavy breaths filling the room. He knew you didn’t get the chance to cum the last time. “You are my queen.”

With your eyes closed your hands searched for his. He took your hands in each of his, resting at the edge of the tub, intertwining your fingers together. Your soft whimpers echoed according to the motion of his fingers and he kissed your hair, encouraging you through your orgasm.

The water was starting to get cold. You were resting there in silence, your mind rewinding everything that happened. Sukuna said he could smell fear. Did he smell the fear on you when you first walked in? When you thought he was going to kill you? When you feared he was going to leave you at the hands of his servants? Instead, he called you his queen.

“There’s… someone.” You said instead, not daring to ask these questions. The silhouette of a man standing still in the hall was visible through the half open door.

“Oh? Yeah, it’s the boy from the kitchen. I haven't decided what to do with him yet.” Sukuna replied. “He’s the only one who defended you. But then again, what could he say? Defending you means defending himself.”

“Someone needs to live to tell the tale.” You mumbled. He cocked his head to the side, encouraging you to continue. “I would free him from your service. Give him some money. He will surely spread the tale of the ruthless Ryomen Sukuna.” He didn't reply. You doubted he was going to listen to your suggestion.

That night was the first time you went to sleep by his side. Usually you would pick up the moment after he was satisfied enough with your presence and retreated. He never commanded you to leave but never signaled he wanted you to stay, either. This time he carried you in his arms to your new room. You were probably not able to walk on your own anyway. He was going to have you moved away from the servants, closer to his chambers, he explained when he slided the door open. He laid you down on the freshly clean mattress before you felt his large frame next to you. You quickly scooped closer, with much effort since all the muscles in your body felt sore. With your head on his chest, one arm over his wide muscular torso, you fell asleep faster than ever, fatigue winning over your body. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of his fingers in your hair, while his lower hand was softly laying on your hip. You've never felt so relaxed before.

When you woke up, the painful sensation between your legs hit your brain before you were even able to open your eyes. Sukuna was nowhere to be seen. You didn't even feel him leaving your side, fallen deep in your undisturbed sleep. Next to the mattress, on a small low table, a covered tray was waiting for you to wake up. On a small note, written by hand, a message greeted you.

Regain your strength soon, my queen

next 》》 Eraser |

Ryomen Sukuna x reader

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jujustu kaisen #sukuna jjk #sukuna imagine

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lazycats-stuff · 3 months

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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Bruce x Bat Dad (and some bat fam)

What if reader knew about the darker things in the world like demons and horrors unimaginable from the time he was small and that's why he doesn't talk about things like growing up or his family.

What if reader gets captured by a cult that torture him in order to force reader to translate strange eldritch books and artifacts.

You can choose how long it takes for Bruce to find reader

(What if Bruce and the batfam find out that reader has been hunting and investigating the supernatural like a small base of operations that looks more like a library with hidden weapons)

Hi, I hope you have a good day or night too. Of course you can request. Hehe. Lets go. Also, I'm sorry for taking so long... I hope you like it! And yes, the ending may be rushed, but it's not that bad.

Summary: (Y/N) gets taken for his knowledge.

Warnings: cult, fight, implications of torture... Nothing is really direct per say.

(Y/N) sighed as he closed his old leather book. He wished he didn't have this knowledge, this... (Y/N) swallowed as he put his book back and left the room, closing the fake bookcase. He rubbed his face as he was tired from this life. He wished he didn't have this knowledge. He knows the things that would turn the world upside down.

He met with hell's worst demons and he saw some of the other unspeakable horrors. (Y/N) never had a good life. He grew up in a satanic cult, the one who was genuinely believing that Satan is coming and that they are going to be his loyal servants.

He was apparently marked by Satan when he was born, but then again, when you are in a cult, you believe what they tell you. (Y/N) escaped when he was 16 years old, running like the devil himself was chasing him. (Y/N) came to Gotham with only clothes on his back.

Soon he met a nice guy who helped him. (Y/N) is smart and intelligent and he managed to start high school. He graduated after 3 years and went on to study history and religion at college. He was always interested in those things and soon enough, he found himself working in a museum.

It was a nice change of pace for once. Learning about old things and older religions and he liked it when he could teach someone something new. Of course, he was vigilant of new people and people in general. He was careful when meeting someone new, hoping that the cult didn't go after him. He could only hope so.

Dating after being in a cult it's difficult. Always suspicious of any one coming into his life romantically. Men or women, being suspicious from the get go was a certified way to see if someone was from the cult. It was also one of the fastest ways to get your relationship destroyed.

Then Bruce Wayne came into his life.

It was a coincidence. Bruce saw an interesting exhibition and decided to treat Damian to a little treat. (Y/N) was making his way through the museum, just enjoying his day and making sure every visitor was taken care of. He saw Bruce and Damian, looking in confusion.

(Y/N) walked over and asked if everything was okay and the rest was history. He lead the two through the museum, enjoying the fact that Damian knew a lot about history and it was actually fun to debate a child who knew something over a fact.

Bruce was quiet, enjoying the tour and well... Love at first sight for Bruce. He was chatting with (Y/N) and saw how guarded he was. Sure, everyone is guarded around strangers, but this is a whole another level of being guarded.

Bruce was rather intrigued, but he didn't want to push any boundaries. So he left (Y/N) his number, saying no pressure to say yes, but do call.

To say (Y/N) was a nervous wreck is an understatement. What the hell was Bruce Wayne doing with him? Was he just looking for a one night stand? Or was just flirting to keep with the playboy persona? He came home and stared at the card for 10 minutes, thinking about it.

Should he?

Should he not?

You know what? He's not made from glass. He will go for it and whatever happens, happens. He texted Bruce, he wasn't really brave enough to call. He really wasn't.

He jumped when he saw that Bruce responded.

To cut a very long story short, Bruce and (Y/N) are together to this day. The date went very well and (Y/N) was happy for the first time. He has never been happier. Together with a man who loves him and the kids who love him.

(Y/N) may love the kids more than Bruce, but Bruce won't complain. Anyone who accepted his kids, he was more than happy and if that person loved the kids more than Bruce...

Of course, in platonic way.

But there was something that bothered the family, well, not bothered, but it was interesting to them. It was (Y/N)'s past. It was something he hid and refused to talk about. He would get closed off and cold and soon enough they learnt to not ask about it.

Of course, in a family full of detectives, they wanted to investigate, but they knew that they shouldn't have because it was an invasion of privacy. So, they have decided to leave (Y/N)'s past alone.

Also, one thing that they loved about (Y/N) was the fact that he was teaching them history, something they all loved. Jason was a fan of Egypt and Sumerians. Dick loved European history, more so medieval times. Tim loved the Enigma and the making of a first computer?

And Damian? World War Two and Arabic history.

Alfred loved (Y/N) too and he would love nothing more for Bruce to marry that man. God knows that this household needs another emotionally stable person. Somewhat...

Alfred was not the one to complain.

He saw how (Y/N) and Bruce complimented one another and Bruce gave (Y/N) a push to write his book about history of religion. (Y/N) has always wanted to write that and Bruce gave him a push he needed. But not financially.

(Y/N) said he would do it all on his own. Bruce had no problem with that statement. He agreed to not pull connections with anyone or any publishing house. But he wasn't against getting (Y/N) his materials. He had no problem delivering the materials right to his door or at his work.

(Y/N) knew that Bruce was Batman so he knew that Bruce was in front of his apartment or in his office. (Y/N) enjoyed and was happy to see them.

(Y/N) entered his apartment and went to the kitchen. He was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a dark figure in his living room. (Y/N) took a sip of the water before he heard a creak on the floor board. He acted like it was nothing before throwing the glass in the direction on the sound. He hit the figure and (Y/N) grabbed a knife.

(Y/N) watched as the figure doubled down in pain, before recovering. The figure has stepped into the light and (Y/N) recognized the face.

" You motherfucker... " (Y/N) said as he gripped the handle of the knife tighter.

" That's no way to talk to your leader. " The deep male voice said and (Y/N) sized him up.

Maybe he can make it out. But the leader is strong and full of muscles. He has to evade him. Somehow.

That plan went down to shit when he saw two more figures. Sure, the leader needs to have protection. (Y/N) glanced between the trio. Someone is going to attack first.

Which one is the question.

(Y/N) ducked a punch and tried to stab the incoming one, but he was hurled over the couch, taking it with him. (Y/N) grunted as he hit the floor and he stood up after a few moments. He didn't have his knife with him.

Shit.

He nearly died when there was a fourth figure picking him up, before throwing him into his glass coffee table. (Y/N) grunted as he hit his head. He hissed as he tried to get up, but a kick to his face sent him flying back and he was dazed.

" I'm not coming with you. " (Y/N) said as he wiped the blood from his face.

" Oh you are. We know you can translate the demon transcriptions. And we need those translations. " The leader said and (Y/N) glared at them.

He won't go out without a fight.

" You are outnumbered. There is no way out. " The leader said and (Y/N) glanced at the other two. They were blocking the exit. They only way is to fight out or at least try.

But there was no weapon in sight. So he was screwed. Kicking and punching his way out can only take him so far.

But he had to try.

So he did just that. He tried to fight, but he was punched in the jaw quickly that he was nearly knocked. He fell down, hitting his head hard once more.

His vision was swimming and he couldn't see who was where anymore. His only hope now was Bruce. He knew Bruce would drop by later in the night and that he would find him. Bruce would never stop looking for him.

The kiddos too...

His jaw got punched once more and he blacked out. Now the cult had him where they wanted him. They could do what they pleased.

And if that meant torture... Well, then so be it.

Two fucking months. Bruce was losing his mind as he was looking for his boyfriend. He was horrified when he learnt of (Y/N)'s past, who wouldn't be terrified? Learning and growing up in a cult?

Bruce remembers the first time he entered the apartment and he will always wonder about a lot of things. More so that (Y/N) is somewhat normal.

Bruce was shocked that (Y/N) turned out normal. The trauma he must have went through... He was even more shocked when they found out the secret library in his apartment... Bruce had to call John Constantine to see what the hell was happening here.

John knew exactly what this was. (Y/N) was a hunter who hunted demons and banished them back to hell. Bruce was officially in the dark now. His beloved, his significant other was a hunter? Who went after demons?

Bruce didn't know how the hell he was going to explain this to his kids. How can you explain something like this? Bruce analyzed every part of the apartment, trying to figure out what happened.

He saw that (Y/N) had a knife, but was threw around the room. Then he was put through his glass coffee table. Bruce sighed quietly as John looked through the books.

" This is an amazing collection. " John commented as he looked through the books and the weapons.

" Is that really important right now? " Bruce snapped at the man and John just shrugged his shoulders.

" I guess not, but I know people who would kill for this collection. Bruce, he has knowledge of the single handedly one of the most ancient languages in the world. I can only count people on one hand that know this language. " John explained.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

" I think I know why they kidnapped your partner. " John said as he picked up a book. Bruce raised his brow in question.

" The cult that took him wanted some translations it seems. " John said as he opened and old, leather bound book, more interested in the book at the moment.

" That's not good. I'm assuming he will resist... They are going to torture him. " Bruce said solemnly, eyes darting around the apartment.

" We will put the bookshelf the way it was. Maybe they were after the books and weapons. " Bruce said and John sighed as he put the book where he found it and then did what Bruce asked from him.

From that day, two months passed. Bruce and everyone else worked tirelessly to find their favorite person. Bruce his boyfriend, soon to be a fiancé, the boys their second dad, one that is more emotionally open and Alfred needed one person who is going to be somewhat normal.

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin when he got a location. They boys and him piled into the batmobile and drove as fast as the car allowed it.

To say that they had to fight their way in was an understatement. Alfred was anxiously waiting in the cave.

Bruce nearly died when he saw (Y/N). Bloodied, bruised... Bruce didn't want to know the specifics. He picked his beloved up and moved to the car and he made sure to call the SWAT team from GCPD, alongside a few more organizations.

The cult deserves it, okay? Was he over reacting? Maybe.

But that didn't matter now. What mattered is the fact that (Y/N) is taken care of and is alive and well.

To say he drove like a madman... Would be the biggest understatement of the century. Once they came, they rushed their favorite person to Alfred.

Time was of the essence.

Bruce waited for his boys to finish talking to their second dad. (Y/N) had awoken and although still weak, he still talked to his sons. After 20 minutes, Bruce ushered them out, making them all protest a bit, but in the end they knew that they need to go.

Jason hugged his dad, very carefully and left. Dick kissed his dad's cheek and Tim squeezed his hand. Damian hugged his second dad before leaving and the two partners are soon left alone.

" I'm sorry for not telling you the truth... But it was too difficult. " (Y/N) said and Bruce kissed his cheek softly.

" Don't apologize. I understand that. "

" I'm assuming you found my base? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce nodded.

" John said you have a collection people would kill for... This is such shit timing, but would you like to move in? " Bruce said and (Y/N) snorted, but stopped because of his ribs.

" Yes, I would love nothing more. "

Bruce kissed (Y/N)'s cheek again. " Good. I'll leave you to rest. "

" Can you stay with me? "

Bruce smiled and nodded, changing into his PJs before gently laying down next to (Y/N), wrapping him into blankets and the two quickly feel asleep.

The two were finally reunited.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 11 months

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How do you think Bucky would react to the reader admitting that she has a think for his metal arm?

I feel like he would be cocky about it

Oh, you see. Bucky Barnes is by no means a stupid man. At all…

Being trained as an assassin with quite a sensitive core, he knows which traits work for and against him. Yes, the army taught him plenty and Hydra taught him more. How to use weapons; how to properly use each and every one of them, to sharp shoot and count his ammo while he’s at it. How to abuse technology; how to hack into anything, photoshop a new reality and if he really had to, completely disable a traffic system and lay a country down flat.

But lying, manipulating and intimidating – that he learned on his own. Out of pure necessity. He knows what tone of voice will elicit which response, knows body language to a fault, knows how to ask which question to get the information he needs (or simply just wants) and how to stay quiet until the other person has dug themselves their own fucking grave. He knows how to use himself as his most lethal weapon and has had to.

So he knows damn well what his arm does to people. Yes, he can make it seem dangerous and intimidating. Knows exactly how to make people fear that arm. However, he certainly knows how to work it to his benefit. People’s unashamed curiosity with his arm and… Well, there have been plenty of men and women eyeing the appendage with a little too much interest. Bucky knows his sexuality well and the fluidity within it.

You are no exception. He catches you looking at his arm the same way he catches you looking at his lips. With the same hunger. Catches your heating face, too. Though he wouldn’t be the insufferable, broody, quiet man if he called you out on it instantly. Oh no. If anything, Bucky is a relentless tease, who doesn’t like it when people can’t ask for what they want or need.

When you started fooling around with him, you were already overwhelmed plenty by the unimaginable possibilities with him. Because he is a God. He knows his body perfectly and knows how to put it to good use. On top of that, it feels destructive, the way he can listen to your body and figure it out in a matter of minutes. He’s not only trained – he’s intuitive.

He had gone relatively easy on you in the beginning, only urging you a few times to verbally communicate to him what it was exactly that you were whining for. “Come on, baby,” he’d whispered in your ear with his flesh fingers slowly pulling out of you. “Can’t make you come if you don’t ask me to.”

He has melted your stubborn persona down to a begging, pleading, whimpering core more times than you can count. Relentless with his teasing, and sometimes going as far as to claim that he is a soldier after all, he ‘only takes orders’. Which is something you’ll get back to another time.

Right now though, you have reached your limit. It has been weeks of Bucky teasing something you cannot get yourself to admit. His metal arm. You want him to choke you with it, finger you with it, pull your hair with it– fuck it, you want to suck on his metal fingers until his jeans pop open at the sight.

And it is like he knows (because of course he fucking knows), because all he will do is stroke his fingers lightly over your pulse. Or brush the cold metal over your folds when he admires his next meal. He’s slid the hand into your hair, only to slide it down your back again without twisting his fist into your locks.

Prick.

“What has got you so worked up?” he asks when you writhe in the sheets uncomfortably. His metal fingers tease the apex of your thighs, mindless shapes burning into your skin. Your breathing is heavy and no amount of orgasms in the world could settle this need for that hand.

You bite your lip to keep from blurting out. Maybe it started with you being a bit shy and apprehensive about it, but honestly, now you’re just pissed. Weeks. Weeks he has been torturing you with absolutely fucking nothing at all.

“Bucky,” you breathe, exasperated.

“What, darling?”

You want to fucking scream at him. Honestly, you might.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your frustrations and open your mouth to say something. But it is his metal, middle finger that dips into your dripping core that has you stutter on your breath. Yet it’s gone before you can moan out your relief.

“Fuck,” you rasp and swallow thickly.

“Hm?” he hums innocently and you want to throttle him.

“Do– ” you swallow again, ”Do that again…”

He forces a confused frown on his face and moves his flesh hand to your cunt, pushing in his middle finger. His flesh middle finger.

You squirm again.

“Bucky,” you grit out through your teeth, jaw clenching.

Suddenly, he’s there, his face inches from yours. Lips brushing your cheek and warm breath fanning your skin.

“Ask for it, baby,” he whispers, refraining from kissing your flushed skin. “Ask for what you want.”

You feel like you’re a child being told off and huff out your frustrations, making Bucky bite back a smile. Silence drags on and on and on. You try desperately to get your scrambled brain in order, especially since his orders – his voice – is another weakness of yours.

“Bucky, please…”

“Please what?”

“I want– ” you pause, quieting your pride like pinching out a candle, “I want your hand.”

“Say it,” he orders, waiting for the elaboration he knows is coming.

“The metal hand, Bucky,” you mutter breathlessly. “Finger me with your metal hand and I will do anything for you.”

Oh, and it is everything Bucky can do to keep his eyes from rolling back at the sound of those words, of that need in your voice. He might be a bit of a sadist, mentally rewarding himself for teasing you to the point of ordering your needs so sweetly. And he might be a secret sub for wanting to drop everything he is to give it to you the instant you ask for it.

His metal fingers are back at your cunt. Playing. Teasing. “Anything, huh?”

You can only let out a strangled whimper, your sweaty back arching when he brushes your clit. Bucky dips down again, brushing a soft kiss right below your ear that triggers a wave of goosebumps over your skin. “I only need you to do one thing for me. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”

You almost sigh in relief, until you realise who you’re dealing with. And you grit your teeth to the point of grinding them to dust, the metal fingers playing with you driving you to the brink of absolute insanity and dangling your release in front of you like chocolate.

“What,” you bite out. “What do I do.”

Bucky smirks and pushes two metal fingers into you, curling them into your spot with so much precision, you see only white.

“Come.”

#answered #writing #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #drabble #drabbles #IM SORRY I DONT HAVE TIME TO WRITE

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lily-174 · 1 month

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Saw you in the Jay Halstead x Reader tag! I was hoping you could do one where Jay is dating a black belt, and he keeps forgetting she can take care of herself bc she's been training for many years. Maybe she gets kidnapped, but escapes on her own? Thank you if you do! No problem if you don't! Have a good day 😊 💛

you picked the wrong girl- Jay halstead x reader

AN: well, I’m back… sorry I’ve been gone for so long guys. But I hope you enjoy this, and If you’ve read fics from me before. I hope you like the change in writing style.. I’d love to hear what you think (I did write the at 1am tho and didn’t proofread)

trigger warnings: Angst, Assault, kidnapping, mention of endo

“yeah jay i’ll come over when i finish my shift tomorrow” you held your phone up to your ear, bag on the opposite shoulder as you left your apartment building.

“alright babe. be safe okay?” Jay, your boyfriend of 3 years spoke through the phone. A smile on your face as you thought of seeing him after your shift at firehouse 51.

“you too” you smiled before ending the call, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you began walking to your car. You and jay had met while serving in afghanistan yet had reconnected almost 6 years later after you started working back in chicago and got a job at firehouse 51 through your friend clark and everyone at 51 has quickly become your family.

As you approached your car you scrolled through your phone looking to message your best friend Gabriella Dawson to let her know you’re on your way to work. The two of you usually spend the start of your shift gossiping, it’s something you’ve grown to love. Especially when it comes to girl talks in a firehouse full of men. God just the memories of the boys faces—specifically cruz— when they walk in on a conversation about something they don’t want to know makes you laugh. Like the time you had cruz walk in on you talking to gabby about the horrendous side affects of your condition Endometriosis. Which you only got diagnosed with two years ago, and luckily it wasn’t completely debilitating for you as it was for a lot of women.

When you’d been diagnosed you were terrified of telling anyone, even Jay. But after hundreds of conversations with Gabby and Jay—who were both unapologetically supportive—it no longer bothered you and you’d come to the conclusion you’d rather talk about it and educate people on the subject rather than hide from it.

Shooting Gabby a quick text that read: ‘On way now. Got so much to tell you about the CPD party’

You smiled to yourself watching the three dots pop up signifying gabby was messaging you back. You and Gabby had almost no shame when it came to your conversations, so much so that you were sure you knew more about Gabby and Casey’s sex life than Casey did himself, and vice versa for Gabby and Jay. You knew Gabby had something to tell you too as she’d insinuated as such on the phone last night. And boy, did you have something to tell her too. The sex you’d had with Jay after that CPD party had been extraordinary, easily in your top 5 sexual experience—all of which had been with Jay. He was amazing, and with the strain and pain endometriosis puts on a woman’s sex life Jay had been so understanding and patient. He’d made sex something unimaginable.

‘Can’t wait. I have news too. 🫢’ Gabby replied. You smile as you reach your car pocketing your phone and pulling out your car keys. Just as you go to press the button on your keys to unlock your car what feels like a violent slam of bricks hits your head. Pain slices through your body, shaking your bones, starting from your skull and travelling all the way down to your toes. the pain is sharp, cold. So cold that black dots dance across your vision. You can’t process anything, every thought, every instinct you have fails under the pulsing pain in your skull as everything turns black.

Pain shatters the darkness enveloping you, cold air hitting the wetness coating your hair sending a shiver down your spine. Fear claws at you, digging into your flesh, pulling and tugging at your stomach acid just as the hands are. The hands? Pain and panic interlock as everything clicks. Hands. Gripping your waist dragging you across a stony path. Darkness, not the same as before, not the dark pain that had taken you hostage but the sun leaving you, leaving you vulnerable with your captor.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Yet, when they do adrenaline takes ahold of you. Forcing the old you, the soldier to take over. Power floods your veins as soon as your eyes meet the evil ones of your kidnapper.

Where’s jay? Does anyone even know you’re gone? How long have you been gone?

Questions you won’t let linger stab you. And your limbs fill with strength, adrenaline. You pull your elbow back before forcing it into your captors ribs with every ounce of strength you can, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything. You refuse to be a photo on Intelligence’s evidence board.

Your captor grunts, weakening his grip on your as he stumbles unprepared. He quickly recovers, lunging forward aiming to take you down with his fists. You don’t let him. Your lungs clench, heart pounding as if a stampede lives beneath your ribs as everything you’ve been taught everything you’ve learnt and everything that’s ever made you feel powerful rushes through your veins. Army training, Boxing, karate, kickboxing.

You dodge his attempted assault and quickly throw a balled fist toward his jaw, and it connects with enough force to break a knuckle. You move quickly, precise like you’ve got forever to calculate his next move. But you don’t. It’s the adrenaline, rushes through your veins giving you enough energy for the final push. With another firm punch he stumbles, and in the next moment you land a hard kick to his most precious area. He falls, losing his balance and stumbling with a pained groan.

Run. You barely process your next movements as your legs carry you, each step shakier than the last as you take your chance, sprinting away. Your lungs burn, your skin igniting against the harsh chicago wind. You don’t even know where you are but you keep running, running, hoping to find something familiar. Some landmark, somewhere you know, someone you know.

Your body weakens, you feel as if you’re your legs will fail at any moment as you push on. The wind brushing against your tear stained cheeks leaving a chill in its wake.

95th and Trent. The familiar street sends the final wave of adrenaline through your body. You don’t stop running, you can’t. Not until your safe. You don’t know how long you’ve been running for, how long you’ve been missing. But when you reach the familiar 21st district it almost feels as if your heart stopped. Racing up the front steps you barrel through the door. Panicked, irrational, exhausted.

Trudy Platts panicked eyes meet yours and a wave of comfort makes your eyes well up. She rushes out from behind her desk ordering a officer away, “Get Halstead. And call a damn Ambulance and 51. Tell em we’ve got her.” She bites out before rushing towards you and taking you into her arms.

As soon as the warmth that is trudy Platt touches you, your heart cracks. Almost loud enough your worried it could’ve been heard from miles away. Tears poor from your eyes and you clutch onto her uniform as the adrenaline dissipates.

“Baby” A distraught familiar voice takes you by the hands guiding you home. His arms, his smell. You’re home, you’re safe. Jay takes you in his arms, tightly. Letting all of his worry and anger seep from him in the form of your touch.

“Are you okay? Y/n, I was trying to find you. I was gonna find you baby.” He whispers as your claw at his muscular frame. “You’re safe, I’ve got you” he whispers, his voice only causing the crack in your chest to grow. A crack that only he can fix, now that you’re home.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago fire #jay halstead fluff #i love jay halstead #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead smut #jay halstead #chicago pd x reader #one chicago fic #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago imagine #one chicago x reader #one chicago #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fic

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observeowl · 4 months

Text

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 1 - Not the best first meeting

Series Masterlist

"I don't want to marry that cripple, Marcus. I want to be with you." Your sister, Stephanie complained as she got intimate with him. "Don't be afraid baby, I won't give you to anyone." He said it so softly that it touched her heart. They have been hiding around for so long that they have started to lose their patience.

"Marcus!" You slammed the door open and caught them under the sheets together. "Stephanie! Marcus is my fiancé! You guys... How can you guys..." You shook your head, they weren't even trying to defend their actions. You've known them for the longest time, having met Marcus in high school, for them to betray you like this was unimaginable. Stephanie reached out and held your arm, "Y/N, I'm sorry. Marcus and I love each other dearly."

Out of a sudden, Marcus pulled her back further from you and held her close to him. "From the beginning to end, I only have Stephanie in my heart. Don't flatter yourself." He has never spoken so harshly to you and looked at you like a stranger. "Please, Y/N, I beg you. The woman is next door tonight if only you-"

"You want me to allow you guys... Dream on!" If your anger was boiling a second ago, it was vaporising now. You raised your arm ready to slap her, but were stopped by Marcus. "Y/N Y/L/N! You have no choice! If you won't marry, then who will? I can't bear to see Stephanie suffer."

"Marc-" He sprayed your face with an unknown substance causing you to lose consciousness.

Y/N, don't blame us... If you want to blame someone then blame it on your fate...

===

You woke up the next morning still feeling very groggy until you remembered what happened yesterday. You sat up in shock when you realised you were undressed and a woman was sharing your bed.

Last night was not a dream...

You got up in a hurry and rushed to put on all your clothes when your father, Mike opened the door without knocking. "Y/N Y/L/N! You unfaithful daughter!" He ordered you to come out once you're properly dressed.

He held nothing back when he slapped you in front of your family. "This is the woman your sister wants to get married to! How could you..." He chastised you in front of everyone. Stephanie came out from behind your father and said, "Y/N... Is it because Marcus wants to tell you about the regret of the marriage? That's why you want to take revenge?" She tried to act sympathising.

"Stephanie Y/L/N! Do you dare to speak of what you said last night again!"

"Y/N, what are you talking about? Last night... last night..." She suddenly acted like the victim and shed some crocodile tears. "You asked me to go inside your room and coaxed me to drink... I fainted and I..."

"Y/N Y/L/N! Kneel and apologise to your sister immediately!" Your father came to her rescue. You could no longer bear the extreme favouritism and lashed out. "WHY?" You screamed at your father. "You still dare to talk back."

"Enough!" Finally, the women spoke. With just a single word, she was able to take control of the situation. "Bring the car over." She said into the phone. "Natasha, this is all Y/N's fault, she's too playful..."

"Did I allow you to call me by my first name?" Each time she opened her mouth, the room got colder. "Natasha, I hope you can..."

"I don't like to repeat myself!"

"Dad, I'm okay. Please don't blame Y/N. Maybe she's too sad about the breakup with Marcus so she did that." She was still putting up an act and wiping her tears. "Or maybe... she likes Natasha Romanoff. I can give her up for her. Anyway, they already had an affair. I don't think Romanoff will refuse her?" She glanced at you as she tried persuading her father. You clenched your jaws seeing how fake she was. "I will never get married. What happened last night were Stephanie and-"

"Enough!" Stephanie shouted. "Y/N, I'm your sister! If you like Romanoff, I will give her up for you. Why do you have to do this to me?" She acted as if she was the better, bigger person, the one getting the short end of the stick. "Y/N, you think there are still people who believe you? You must marry Natasha Romanoff! Furthermore..." She leaned closer to you and whispered, "One of you is shameless, the other is handicapped. Most suitable."

"Stephanie Y/L/N!"

"Don't believe me? You just wait and see." She pushed herself against you and acted as if she was being pushed by you. "I didn't push her..."

Marcus immediately went to her side and made sure she was okay. "Y/N Y/L/N, you're too much!"

"I didn't push her.." But no one would take your side. "Romanoff..." Mike said, as she appeared and wheeled herself to the door.

She was so capable but became different because of the accident. Although you were framed, she won't seek justice for you.

"Come with me." She spoke. "But, what happened last night was Stephanie... Okay..." You relented when you realised she wouldn't take no for an answer and kept wheeling away. "I'll go with you."

Outside your estate, a man was waiting outside by the car. Without introducing himself, he asked you to enter after making sure that Romanoff got in okay. "It's fine. I can walk." You rejected the offer. "I'm not done with you, get in." She said. In the end, you got in at the back of the car with Romanoff.

"Don't worry, I will not care what happened yesterday." You started. "You want to repudiate after sleeping?" You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but she beat you to it. "I'm not an irresponsible person. It is better to marry you then marry Stephanie. And you already belong to me. So it doesn't matter if you deny it."

"You.. you're shameless! We don't have any feelings for each other. Why will I marry you."

"Y/L/N, do you think your dad will believe you? I will give you a chance to think about it." She was very confident as she folded her arms in front of her. "Dream on! I won't marry you!"

"Stop!" Romanoff ordered and the driver immediately stopped the car. "Miss Y/L/N, please." He opened the door, hinting for you to step out. "I can wait for your reply. However, I'm not sure if your family can wait that long." She said as she handed her name card to you. And you were left on the sidewalk to walk the rest of your journey yourself. Your phone rang and it was Stephanie calling. Not in the mood to entertain her, you declined her call but she was persistent and sent you a text.

(Y/N Y/L/N, if you don't want the whole world to know what happened last night. You come home immediately!)

"Hey Stephanie Y/L/N! What are you trying to do?" You called her back. "Y/N Y/L/N, I told you already even if you don't want to get married. You have no choice about it! I've recorded what you guys did last night If you don't want people to see it. You'd better listen to me!"

"Stephanie Y/L/N!" You screamed into the phone. "If you don't want to get married, so be it. Anyhow, Dad already contacted President Zhang of the Far East Bank. To sacrifice one's happiness to a disabled person, or you want to be with a 50-year-old man. Go think about it!" She cut off the phone.

You clutched the name card in your hand tightly. Making up your mind, you dialled the number on the card. "Natasha Romanoff, I agree to marry you." All within a few steps from where you were dropped off.

===

Within the next month, you walked down the aisle and exchanged vows with Natasha Romanoff, your wife. The wedding was grand, Romanoff and your dad invited a lot of people. As you went around with Romanoff, you came across Marcus and Stephanie.

"Y/N, congratulations," Stephanie said as she came closer to you. "Got what you want."

"Same as you. When are you getting married? Don't forget to let me know. I will surely prepare a big gift for you."

"Y/N Y/L/N, you can only be proud now. Don't forget about the video. Bitch." She whispered into your ears but Romanoff heard it clearly. She reached out for your hand and said, "Bitch? Miss Y/L/N, who are you referring to with that word?" Intimidated by her gaze, she stepped back a little. "Nothing... that was a misunderstanding."

"Y/N, don't make trouble. Stephanie is not that kind of person!" Marcus held her tenderly. "I don't care what your relationship and aim are." Romanoff wheeled herself to be between you and them. "In my eyes, you are nothing. In my eyes, There is only my wife, Y/N Romanoff.

You once wished that Marcus would say it to her.

"Y/N, she is your sister, what else do you want?" Naturally, he went on her side and you could only sigh internally. "I don't want anything. I just need her to stop bothering me." You started to push Romanoff away from this toxic crowd when your father called for you again. "Mr Y/L/N, stop bothering Y/N. She is now a member of the Romanoff family. No longer Miss Y/L/N."

"Miss Romanoff, we are a family after all, you don't have to say it that way." He made an awkward smile. "If you treat her like a family, then I will naturally treat you the same way." She replied without even looking at them.

In your memory, no one has ever protected you this way...

Series Masterlist

@natsxwife @franfineashell @dvrkhcld @reginassweetheart

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #my writing #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #unwanted marriage #mcu x reader #avengers

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flowerandblood · 9 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (15)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Daemon wasn't sure how he felt about seeing his brother after so many years. He stared at him with his lips tightened, while Rheanerya spoke to him in a reassuring voice, introducing him to their sons. He tried to focus on her words, but all that occupied his thoughts was that his brother would soon die.

His brother was weak, but it was because of his forgiving nature that he still had his head; he knew that any other king would have beheaded him for his disobedience. Viserys, even if he banished him for a few years, always allowed him to return, welcoming him with open arms.

What he thought of his rulership did not matter, for he loved him as a brother.

It was hard for him to see a once completely functional and joyful man lying on his deathbed in a state of partial decomposition of his body.

He was visibly stupefied and this disturbed him.

When he asked him to hand him the tea that laid on the table next to him, he did so without a word, but then a sort of shudder, a premonition passed through him and he sniffed the contents that remained.

Poppy milk.

"Your childhood friend and her father have dulled my brother's mind with fucking poppy milk." He hissed to his niece-wife, who looked at him shocked as they settled a bit further away, so that Viserys, moaning in pain, could not hear them.

Rhaenyra involuntarily placed a hand on her pregnant belly, massaging herself over it, looking around the chamber, her lips tightening. He knew the expression on her face, knew that she was torn and thinking strenuously.

"He will not sit on the throne tomorrow in this state." She said quietly, worried and frightened, Daemon chuckled at her words, shaking his head.

"Of course he won't. That's what they want. They fucking stupefied his mind." He sneered, walking towards one of the large chairs by the extinguished fireplace. He sat on it, rubbing his face with his palm.

His wife sighed quietly and walked over to him, stroking his arm reassuringly. He looked at her wordlessly, grasped her hand and kissed it.

Then Alicent walked into his brother's quarters.

A pompous, proud whore pretending to be a saint.

He looked at her with annoyance and disapproval as she tried to pretend that she was glad to see them and gave them any respect.

When his wife asked her about the poppy milk and the king's health, the queen began to wrestle with the fact that without it his brother would suffer unimaginable pain and it was his will. Daemon rolled his eyes at these words.

"And how is that will expressed? Hm?" He asked, extending his hand in front of him, raising his eyebrows mockingly. "By his moaning and wailing?"

Alicent closed her eyelids, apparently trying not to say anything inappropriate, which only made him even more amused.

She'd always tried to pretend to be noble and unsullied, but he knew women like her well.

They grew bitter and ugly in his eyes from lack of pleasure and fulfilment in life, becoming some kind of spectre.

When she began to speak about unfounded accusations and the grace of her gods, he cut himself off completely, giggling under his breath as he looked at his fingers, deciding that he wasn't going to pay any attention to this nonsense.

He already knew that they would not be able to count on his brother's support and his wife would have to manage on her own.

The next day, seeing Lucerys shaking with stress, he took him aside, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

He was no longer a child, but he was not yet a man either.

The worst possible time for such trials, he thought.

"You can't shake when your mother is defending your rights to Driftmark. You have to show strength, not weakness. They will be there accusing you and stirring up mud, and you have to accept it with dignity. Understood?" He asked expectantly, and Luke nodded, pressing his lips into the thin line, all pale. Daemon sighed heavily, placed a hand on his black curls and walked over to his wife, nodding that they were ready.

They steeped the throne room, which was already crowded with people causing confusion around them and loud conversations of the entire court. He saw out of the corner of his eye Otto Hightower standing next to the Iron Throne, ready to sit on it, and smirked under his breath.

He thought that this man would one day burn in the fires of Caraxes, like all his sanctimonious family.

They stood with the whole group to the right of the throne, Rhaenrya saying something quickly over her shoulder to Luke, trying to soothe him with her reassurances, grasping his hand in hers.

He thought she shouldn't do that, show maternal weakness when her son was about to prove himself strong and worthy of his inheritance, but he didn't speak, folding his hands in front of him and sighed quietly, bored.

After a moment, his attention was drawn to a couple who had walked inside through a side entrance to join the Greens. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he recognised his nephew.

He was a muscular, well-built man, walking with a confident, slow step.

Next to him Jace and Luke looked like a small boys.

His attention was also drawn to his wife.

He thought they were both complete opposites; he stony, his jaw clenched, his posture upright and aggressive. She, on the other hand, had a gentle and warm gaze, walking beside him gracefully and lightly with the quiet rustling of her ornate brown and red gown.

She wore the colours of her home, not her husband's.

He liked it.

Rumours of the circumstances of their betrothal had reached even Dragonstone, raised by Baela during one of their meals together. She learned from her maid, whose sister was a cook in Storm's End, that Lord Borros had tried to hide his youngest daughter from Prince Aemond.

The prince had her brought in, humiliating the lord with his words, saying that he could not count.

He was to kiss each of his daughters several times to see which lips gave him more pleasure, and then, to Lord Baratheon's despair, he was to kidnap his youngest daughter and take her with him to King's Landing.

He suspected that the story was coloured by some female fantasy, but in the end the young prince chose her over her sisters anyway.

Daemon thought that perhaps the prince saw an opportunity to force her to break and submit to him because of her young age and inexperience.

He concluded that he had her wrapped around his finger and probably fucked anything that moved, exactly like his older brother.

He was snapped out of his musings by the entrance of Vaemond Valeryon's, confident, buoyant,with his head held high, he stepped into the centre.

He thought it was pathetic for a man to have to puff himself up like this, to show the people gathered around him his power.

To him it was a sign of inner insecurity and weakness.

He realised with amusement that perhaps the second sons had such a thing after all.

Otto sat down on the Iron Throne, speaking aloud about what matter would be decided and gave Vaemond the right to speak first.

Daemon looked around the hall, not listening completely to what he was saying, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of complete disinterest.

His lineage and pride did not concern him.

Colrys knew perfectly well what Leanor was like.

He knew that Luke was Strong's son, and he had named him his heir anyway.

Colrys was a wise man, understanding that one remembered the name, not the blood.

He only returned with his mind to the events in the hall when his wife stepped forward to give her point of view on the matter.

She did not have time to say anything, however, as his brother stepped into the throne room.

Daemon watched with a clenched throat as his brother, his lifemate, glided slowly down the stairs with difficulty, leaning with a trembling hand on his staff.

Although he had never looked worse, weak, old, ailing, he had never seen such determination in him before either, and he pressed his lips together at the thought.

Viserys loved easy solutions and security.

He loved it when he missed the hard parts, when he didn't have to make morally debilitating decisions.

After he ordered his child to be taken out of Aemma's womb he retreated even further, horrified by his act and its consequences.

Only after Laena's death did Daemon understand what he was going through at the time.

He always wanted to marry Rhaenyra, not Laena. He had asked Viserys for it several times, but he was angered by the proposal, thinking that he wanted to use his daughter to sit on the Iron Throne.

The truth was that he didn't care about the throne.

No one could understand a Targaryen like the other Targaryen.

Nevertheless, his marriage to Laena was surprisingly successful. She and Rhaenyra had been close friends even before they were betrothed, and from what Rhaenyra later told him, they had experienced and explored each other's bodies together wanting to see what gave them pleasure.

Their close intimacy and his weakness for Rhaenyra meant that every time she visited them in their residence in Essos, they ended up in bed together.

Laena understood his complicated feelings towards his his niece and was never jealous.

Because of this he was able to love her and trust her enough to make their daily lives filled with joy and fulfilment.

When she chose to die in the fire he was heartbroken, but he also thought of her with pride.

She was a true dragon.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought and lowered his head, feeling a burning sensation under his eyelids.

If it wasn't for Rhaenyra, he wouldn't have been able to survive this.

They both had to lose someone in order to be reunited for the sake of the fate that they had always been destined for.

He gasped when he heard the loud crash of steel against the ground and saw his brother-king leaning against the staff, his crown lying on the stone floor.

He moved towards him, picked up the crown because of which families had killed and fought each other for centuries and helped his brother sit on the throne.

He placed the it again on his head and looked at him, for the first time in many years recognising that his brother had risen to the occasion.

From that moment on everything took the opposite turn to what Otto had planned.

The betrothal of Rhaenyra's sons to his daughters meant that one way or another, Velaryon blood would flow in their descendants.

Vaemond was panting with rage, but he knew the cause was lost to him.

Viserys upheld the right of inheritance of Driftmark accruing to Luke.

Then Vaemond lost his temper.

Daemon felt a trembling and excitement inside him that he had not felt for a long time, he placed his hand on the hilt of his Black Sister as Vaemond began to speak, but stammered.

There was complete silence all around them.

"− say it −" He whispered mischievously, a grin full of anticipation on his face.

"− her children…−" Vaemond began, looking at him with a smile full of contentment and serenity that amused him even more.

"−… are BASTARDS!!!!! −" He shouted in such a way that saliva flew out of his mouth, like the muzzle of a dog starting to bark. He turned to look at the enraged, shocked king.

"And she… is… a whore."

All around them he heard whispers and sounds of horror, everyone knew that what he had said was treason.

He didn't think on what he was doing when in one, soundless movement he took out his Black Sister and with a sure, sharp cut sliced Vaemon's head in half, his body falling involuntarily to the ground.

Hearing the squeals and screams of those gathered around him he smiled under his breath, as he looked proudly at his handiwork, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword.

"He can keep his tongue."

Then it was time for the supper ordered by his brother. He had no desire for it, but recognised that it might be his last wish and he did not intend to leave Rhaenyra alone to be devoured, so he sat down at the table with everyone.

When the queen ordered them to pray, mentioning Vaemond in addition, he looked up at the ceiling with disbelief, shaking his head, thinking that Alicent would surely become a saint in his lifetime.

This was followed by a speech from his brother, a few toasts and finally something to eat. He was starving, he hadn't eaten anything since the morning and hoped that in two hours he could already be in his bed with his wife.

He watched with amusement as Jace, Luke, Aegon and Aemond teased each other, wrestling for glances like young roosters intent on proving to each other which was the leader of the pack.

He almost burst into laughter when he saw Jace rise his cup for his uncles health and then ask Haleana to dance, surprised to see that he was not the only one smiling at the sight.

His nephew's pretty wife was looking at the dancing couple with a smirk full of satisfaction that made him curious.

He considered that perhaps she was not after all such an empty little bird as he had thought her to be.

Then he saw that her husband had spoken to her for the first time during the entire feast, apparently noticing what he did, except that he didn't like it.

He saw her answer him something quickly, looking at him with furrowed brows, bravely not lowering her gaze, her chest rising anxiously.

He raised his eyebrow as he saw her husband's hand slide from her knee between her thighs, watching how quickly his wife tightened her hand on his arm, her husband only chuckled at her helpless attempts to stop him.

He thought that the she would cry out from humiliation, terrified, but she stared at her husband in such a way that he was suddenly enlightened.

This was no act of rape against her or display of his cruelty.

They were desiring each other.

He decided amusedly that he would interrupt this fun for them, so he stood up, meeting his wife's surprised gaze and whispered to her that he would be right back.

Rhaenyra turned to continue speaking with her father and he circled the table, walking slowly towards her. He saw, holding back a wide grin, that they hadn't even noticed him, busy with themselves.

He restrained himself with the rest of his strength not to chuckle low when his nephew quickly slid his hand out from between his wife's thighs, shocked and horrified by his presence, his wife looked at him equally surprised, all red and hot.

They looked like lovers caught in the act of rapture.

"My lady." He said softly.

He held out his palm to her, and she looked at her husband questioningly. When he did not speak, turning his head away furiously, his wife gave him her hand and they moved slowly towards the dancing couple.

They spun to the rhythm of the music, their hands touched.

He thought that she had very soft, warm skin.

"Your husband doesn't seem to handle you gently." He murmured, and she threw him a quick, surprised look. She lowered her gaze, confused; he could see that she was having trouble looking him in the face.

There was something bright and piercing in her eyes, he knew that she was just analysing his words and what he was doing.

They turned, his hand on her shoulder, barely touching the sleeve of her gown.

He did not want to frighten her, to let her think that he would treat her like Aegon.

He wanted to see how much he could get out of her, whether the Prince of Aemond was the same as his brother.

Finally she lifted her gaze to him, already a little more confident.

"My husband has a complicated character, as I think all Targaryens do." She said softly, and he laughed involuntarily at her words, so apt and true.

He hummed as they switched places, turning, their hands touching again in dance, he felt a shiver pass through her and grinned at the sight.

She was sharper than one might think.

The precious jewel that Lord Borros was trying to keep for himself was clearly worth the price.

He thought that he had been wrong in his assessment of her.

She was not like Alicent.

She didn't pretend to be someone she wasn't, the truth came out of her mouth and eyes. He began to think that perhaps his nephew had not chosen her as his wife at all because he wanted to train her like a dog, but because she pulsated with life and a strong will.

Fire and Water.

"I'm not surprised that your husband stole you from Storm's End." He said finally and felt her quiver all over, looking at him uncertainly, her eyes big and warm.

He thought with surprise that his words had aroused her, but he wasn't sure why.

Perhaps it was because there were words of truth in the rumours.

Her husband had stolen her from her father because he craved her.

They bowed to each other and returned to their seats without bestowing a glance on each other. His wife looked at him softly, placing her hand on his, and he kissed her palm, closing his eyes, smelling her pleasant, familiar scent.

"She seems a nice young lady. Could you pass me a piece of cake?" She said lightly, pointing to a platter nearby, and he nodded, placing a piece on her plate.

"Yes, she's surprisingly clever. I think she managed to tame a dragon." He hummed, glancing at his nephew who had just furiously rejected his wife's hand, his mouth hissing out a few words.

"Don't touch me."

Daemon raised his eyebrows in amusement, putting the platter back in place, Rhaenyra busied herself eating.

"A dragon?" She asked with interest, wiping the corner of her mouth clean of crumbs.

"Your half-brother with one eye." He muttered, grabbing his goblet and taking a long sip of wine from it.

He looked with interest at the prince who suddenly stood up, informing them matter-of-factly that his wife was unwell and he would escort her to her chamber.

He almost choked on his wine on hearing this confession and led them away with a look of utter disbelief.

He was so jealous that he needed to fuck her now.

He fought the thought of going out after them, of covering them and humiliating them, of seeing their faces, but decided that he would let them have their fun.

His wife cocked her head, returning to the subject he had brought up earlier, finishing the piece of cake she had just eaten.

"What did you mean when you said that she tamed him?" She hummed, intrigued apparently by his discovery. He looked at her, grinning.

"Her husband is completely obsessed with her."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines @heavenly1927 @hiatuswhore @it-is-getting-better @linkpk88 @luna-salem @toodlesxcuddles @happinessinthebeing @siriusblackrunmeover17 @alaaaaaaa @ladybug0095 @barbiegirlaemond @random-ocity @whoknows333

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 3 months

Text

its unimagineable that there are so many girls and women for whom the most brutal and unspeakable sexual violence is a part of their daily lives.

youtube

of course they dont even mention western involvement. tell me vice, who is buying the cobalt the rebels steal in raids? where are the weapons coming from? 👀

this is one of the worst humanitarian crises happening right now. nobody gives two shits about impoverished women. give men the chance to do anything without consequences - this is what happens: sexual violence as the norm. women and girls in the margins suffering.

in the west they cry when one refugee rapes a western woman - they dont cry when a western man does and definitely not when the victim is not western - as can be seen in the acceptance of the mass exploitation of immigrated women in brothels and on the street - and there is no cry for the 1.8 MILLION girls and women who have been raped in the congo in the last 20 years.

#congo #male violence #Youtube

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bigfatbimbo · 4 days

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Friday anon here-

Ugh! The implications of sub Vox in his canon time period are so delicious! It’s totally taboo, it would ruin him if it got out, so much shame and confusion and insecurity! He’d fight against it so hard but still somehow end up on his knees

He always thought he was such a strong man and now he’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t like it because that’s not how things are supposed to be! The man is supposed to take charge and he’s the man, isn’t he? This whole thing feels topsy turvy but it keeps happening and he keeps ending up breathless by the end of the night

It might be less maddening if you didn’t act so normal during the day but it’s business as usual, so professional that he could almost be convinced that it didn’t happen. But it did happen and it keeps happening and he’s in too deep now

What would people think if they knew?

The way I would so write an entire fic about this. But alas, i’m tired so take my fried up brain crumbs. Ugh but this with that assistant boss au you were talking about especially hits me.

But the level of insecurity that comes with every night is actually unimaginable. The way that you’re running the show isn’t right. He’s the man, and quite literally the man of the office as well. But you’re just so hard to resist when you speak to him as if you’re totally untouchable.

The embarrassment comes before, then he finds it impossible to keep while you work your magic, but the shame seeps in after you leave. He should feel weak, and he does. But you do your job and act as if it doesn’t even happen, so it’s undeniable that on a certain level he was still your boss. Just only in specific settings, he supposed.

He tried to justify it in his head; I mean, he’s keeping his worker happy, right? But he knew that was bullshit, before said worker was stroking his dick until he almost cried, he never was one to care about his employees needs.

You were so put together about the whole thing, absolutely rocking his world and then acting like it didn’t mean anything. It did mean something to Vox. It was so unconventional, and absolutely alarming when compared to the gender norms of the ‘man’ in a relationship.

So yes, he’d put up a fight, try to be domineering, but at a certain point it felt like he was just putting up a fight for the sake of putting up a fight. Not to win.

Because under your hands, he looses every ounce of power he has. He’s never felt anything like it, being a man of his status, he’s never not been given control or respect. But now he finds he’s craving your touch, your mean words, your—and here’s the worst part—validation. Shouldn’t you, his assistant, be craving his?

But your sessions never leave him competent enough to say anything. Whether it be after hours at work, in the supply closet in the office, or maybe a late night visit on a weekend. Your words had a habit of evoking an annoying amount of emotion out of him. When you’re too mean, which you are, he’s had to stop himself from crying. But when you’re uncharacteristically nice… well he has the same problem.

Other than immature fits of anger, he’s always had a particularly firm grasp on his emotions. But just as this grasp loosened around you, so swirled every illusion he’s ever had about the ‘right’ way for man and women to act, and not that he’s so concerned with morals, but boss and employee, as well.

And the thing is, he’s a very highly respected man around the office, so if it gets out that your fucking and how your fucking, he’s absolutely ruined. His reputation, the fear he evoked, all gone. He’d be a fucking joke. But that doesn’t stop him from begging for you every night.

Anyways, now I really wanna do a full fic with this like this idea has a hold over me oh my god. God, if you send me anons and asks about this idea tonight, i’ll start believing in you 🙌🙌

#well maybe not #anyways #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #dom reader

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candycandy00 · 6 months

Text

Serve Me, Save Me - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

After Ryomen Sukuna inadvertently saves you while killing his enemies, you decide to devote yourself to him as a servant. But the trauma from the attack triggers panic when you find yourself in his bed.

Smut (not much in this part). 18+. Slow burn. Softer Sukuna than I’ve written before but he’s still a monster. True form Sukuna. Rape and its aftermath feature prominently as a plot device but rape does NOT occur between Sukuna and Reader. Features PTSD, panic attacks, etc.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts (I have no idea how many there will be), comment to let me know! You must have your age in your bio or intro post or just tell me you’re an adult in the comment! Likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs (especially with feedback in the tags) make me feel all warm and squishy! Seriously any feedback at all is so wonderful! Divider by @benkeibear!

You ran through the village as fast as you could, fleeing the men armed with swords who were currently cutting down everyone their blades could reach. They spared no one, not women, not the elderly, not even children. Your parents were among the first victims, your younger brother next. And all you could do was run for your life.

This village was supposed to be safe from attacks like these. After all, it was under the protection of Lord Ryomen Sukuna. Your village worshipped him, and in turn he cut down any who would attack it, most often in nightmarishly brutal ways that served as warnings to his potential enemies. That’s why this attack was so shocking, so unimaginable. Who would dare?

But Lord Sukuna was away, conquering some other town, bringing more enemies under his foot. Someone sent a shikigami to notify him of the attack, but who knew when it would reach him, or if he would even bother coming to the village’s rescue.

Even though you and your village honored him as a deity, none of you were stupid. You were under no illusion that he actually cared about the people of the village. But he did care about his reputation, his pride. And an attack on this village was a clear declaration of war on Sukuna himself. Surely he wouldn’t tolerate such blatant disrespect.

You reached the outskirts of the village, where a small shrine had been erected for Sukuna. There was a much bigger shrine for him in the village proper, but this one was well cared for despite rarely being visited by him.

The shrine was the size of a modest home in the village, enough room to house at least five people comfortably. So you had plenty of room to hide inside it, closing the door behind you and trying to be perfectly silent. You thought you had outrun most of the attackers, having stopped hearing pursuing footsteps several minutes ago.

But you were wrong.

The door slammed open, and four men stomped inside, kicking and breaking things as they came, gleefully flaunting their disregard for Sukuna’s shrine. They went straight for you, and you prepared yourself to die. You closed your eyes and waited to be cut down.

Unfortunately for you, these four men were in no hurry to kill you.

*******************

When Sukuna received word that one of his villages was being raided, he went there immediately to see what fools would intentionally earn his ire this way. He didn’t really care how many villagers were slaughtered, but he was intensely annoyed that anyone would have the gall to attack them when they were technically under his “protection”.

As he moved through the village, he sliced up the attackers into increasingly small pieces. It took no effort at all, barely a thought, and they were reduced to tiny chunks or ribbons of bloody flesh.

He found a gang of them in his shrine in the middle of the village, making a mess of the place, the shrine maidens murdered. It was a direct insult to him, so he slowed down, took his time, sliced up their limbs and left them to writhe on the floor in pools of their own blood. He could come back to them later, force them to tell him who their leader was. If any of them survived long enough, he could enjoy making examples of them. His mind was already coming up with creative ways to display them outside the village, preferably still alive. Their screams of torment would work well to discourage future attacks.

As he moved through the village at a leisurely pace, picking off the remaining enemies who had scattered like insects before his wrath, he remembered the smaller shrine to him. It was on the outskirts of the village, but if the attackers ransacked his main shrine, there could very well be some of them in the smaller one.

When he reached it, he immediately heard screaming coming from inside. A woman’s voice, crying, in pain. He walked inside almost casually, and leaned against the door frame. The people inside didn’t even notice him at first, so caught up in what they were busy doing.

Four men were in a half circle around a young woman, clearly a villager. She was naked save for some ripped pieces of clothing here and there that clung to her, and one of the men was presently thrusting into her while the others held her down. She was screaming, struggling, trying to break free of their grasp, but it was futile. She was covered in bruises, scratches, even a few cuts from their swords. Her lip was busted and bleeding, one eye already swelling, and various other small injuries littered her form.

“Having fun in my shrine, I see,” Sukuna said.

All of the men froze, then slowly turned to look at him. Whatever they had heard about Ryomen Sukuna, they were still unprepared for what they saw: a tall, monstrous man with four arms and four eyes.

The one raping the village girl pulled away from her and stood up. Before he could pull his clothing back on, his body was chopped into twenty different pieces, his blood splattering all over his comrades and the girl on the floor, who screamed and scrambled to get away from the carnage. The other three men were foolish enough to draw their swords, but they were all just chunks of meat on the floor before any of them could take a step toward him.

Finished with his task, Sukuna turned to leave, but then he heard a small, frightened voice say, “Thank you, Lord Sukuna, for saving me!”

He looked over and saw the girl bowing low to the floor, her bloody, violated body trembling.

Saving her? She’d already been brutalized before he arrived. Ah, but the four men would have killed her, probably after raping her several more times. He responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. He’d had no interest in helping her, but if she was “saved” as a byproduct of him killing his enemies, so be it.

He left the shrine and returned to the center of the village to speak to the survivors. He would need to tell them to clean up his shrines, and he supposed he could give them assurances that the enemies would suffer unimaginably for their crimes.

For the next week, Sukuna remained in the village, torturing the lone survivor among the attackers into giving up the name of the man who ordered the attack, as well as overseeing some of the repairs to his main shrine. The villagers brought him gifts and offerings, heaping praises onto him for protecting them, even though he’d done very little in that regard and the attack had come in the first place because someone wanted to challenge him.

One day a young woman appeared at his shrine, her beauty quite striking despite the faint bruises and small scars that dotted her skin. She bowed after being led inside and into his presence.

“I’ve come to offer myself in service to you, Lord Sukuna,” she said. “You saved my life. It’s only right that my life belongs to you. I would be happy to work in the shrine, prepare your meals, whatever tasks you need done. Even if you choose to kill me for your amusement, I am eager to serve.”

He was sitting in a seat custom built for his large frame, one elbow propping up his head as he leaned onto his hand. He grinned down at the woman. He quite liked this type of submission. “Stand,” he told her, so that he could get a better look at her.

Just then, he recognized who she was. The girl who was gang raped in his smaller shrine. She looked quite different now, fully clothed with her hair neatly pinned back. “Why offer yourself to me?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, and he made a motion with one of his hands to signal she was allowed to look at him and speak.

“I really do feel that my life belongs to you, my Lord,” she said. “And I have no life in the village now. No man will take me as a wife after… after what happened.”

Ah, yes. This village, as well as several others, had the ridiculous custom of requiring brides to be virgins. Sukuna himself never understood it. He’d fucked virgins as well as mothers of several children, and in his opinion the mothers were far more satisfying. But he didn’t really care what their customs were, so he made no rules when it came to things like that.

Looking at the young woman before him, he thought to himself that the men of this village were fools to pass up a beauty like her for such a stupid reason. No matter.

“I accept your offer,” he told her, gesturing for her to go deeper into the shrine, where rooms were available for servants.

She bowed again. “Thank you, my Lord.”

*******************

Walking through the shrine where Sukuna spent most of his time in the village, you feel a sense of relief. After your ordeal during the attack, there were precious few options open to you. The two most obvious ones were becoming a servant or joining a brothel. The latter option was something you just couldn’t bring yourself to do. The thought of sleeping with strange men brought too many horrible memories to the front of your mind.

You were not naive. You knew that being Lord Sukuna’s servant meant you would probably end up in his bed at some point. But you’d given it a lot of thought. Sukuna was away from the village quite often, and he had other servants he used for such purposes. You decided that you could handle occasionally being bed by one man better than entertaining several men every night.

And… Lord Sukuna was a god. He was extraordinary, and he was beautiful. If you did have to sleep with someone, better him than anyone else in the village.

That had been your mindset at the time. Just survive. Just make the best of a cruel situation. Shove the nightmares and trauma to the back of your mind and try to live out your life in relative peace.

The first few days at the shrine were uneventful. You swept floors, washed laundry, and sometimes helped in the kitchen. You saw Lord Sukuna often, but had little interaction with him besides pouring sake for him a few times.

All that changed on the fourth night. You were on your knees in the hallway, mopping the floor with a rag, when Lord Sukuna stepped out of the bathing room and walked down the hall. He wore a simple white robe and nothing more. His hair was still wet, water droplets dripping down his neck and to his chest.

He stopped beside you, looking down. You paused your work and bowed low, waiting for any instruction he might have for you.

“You,” he said in his smooth voice, “Come to my chambers within the hour.”

Fighting the urge to look at him, you kept your head down as you said, “Yes, my Lord.”

He walked away, and you hurried to finish up your chore as your face burned and your heart pounded. You didn’t think it would happen so soon, but you supposed it was inevitable.

As you freshened up in your room, smoothing your tied back hair and changing into a robe slightly nicer than your work clothing, you tried to calm your nerves. You kept telling yourself you could handle this. You hadn’t been intimate with anyone since the attack, and honestly the thought of it terrified you, but this was different, wasn’t it? This wasn’t just any man, it was Lord Sukuna! A god to your village! Being invited to his bed was a great honor.

When you walked into his chambers, he was standing by an open window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Sheer curtains were swaying in the warm breeze of the summer night. While yours was not a seaside village, it was quite close. You could have walked to the beach in around an hour. As such, the smell of the ocean often drifted in on the wind.

He turned to face you, and his tall, powerful form looked imposing. The room was well lit with oil lamps, making every detail of him clearly visible as he untied the silken belt around his waist and opened his robe, then let it slide off his shoulders.

You couldn’t suppress your gasp. Standing nude before you was the most magnificent being you’d ever seen. He looked like a statue, like he was cast from smooth stone. Muscular, with black tattoos lining his body, he stood with two of his four hands on his hips, one holding the robe he’d removed, and the last touching the back of his neck. Four piercing red eyes sat above a very confident smirk.

Confident because he’d noticed exactly where your gaze had settled. Between his strong thighs hung two enormous cocks, not even hard yet and already intimidating. You probably should have been frightened of him, of his unusual body, but at that moment you could only think that he was beautiful, that he was divine.

“Disrobe,” he commanded, and you fumbled with your own sash, hurrying to untie it. Then you opened your own silk robe and pulled it off. You were not especially shy, but you did feel a bit self conscious in the presence of such a perfect being.

His eyes moved up and down your body, seemingly pleased with what he saw. He stepped closer to the bed, and motioned for you to join him. When you reached it, he pushed you onto your back, and you felt your heart racing as he climbed on top of you.

At first, you thought you were merely excited. You could feel a slickness between your thighs, and were relieved that you were even still capable of being aroused after everything that happened. But then two of his hands grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed, as his remaining hands moved over you, groping and squeezing your flesh.

Your breaths became rapid and shallow as unwanted memories invaded your mind. You desperately wanted to avoid thinking about the last time you were naked and pinned down while other hands roughly explored your body, but the sensations were there, the fear was there, imbedded in your mind, burned into your body.

At some point Sukuna had pushed your legs apart, and you felt two ridiculously large erections brushing across your body. You shuddered, images and sounds from that terrible day flooding your mind. Multiple shadows looming over you, men’s voices laughing and mocking, hands grabbing you, hitting you, hard cocks tearing their way inside you…

“No!” you suddenly screamed, bucking against Sukuna’s grip.

He didn’t hear you, or he didn’t care. His mouth was on your neck, his hands still holding your arms in place.

You jerked again, trying to close your legs. “Please stop!” you cried, tears bursting from your eyes. “Lord Sukuna, stop!”

At this point you were full on panicking, struggling against his infinite strength, screaming incoherently, sobbing when you ran out of energy to scream. You knew this would anger him. He would probably kill you, but you couldn’t help it. Your brain was full of vivid memories of the worst moments of your life, and you could do nothing to dispel them.

***************

Sukuna had planned to have an enjoyable evening at his shrine. He’d had a fantastic meal and a relaxing bath, and his plan was to fuck one of his servants before getting some sleep. Considering there were several beautiful servants currently living at the shrine who were all eager to please him, this should not have been a difficult plan to work out.

So why the fuck was the woman beneath him shrieking and crying as if she was being murdered? She had seemed fine just a few minutes ago, not showing even a hint of reluctance even upon seeing his twin cocks. In fact she had seemed quite enamored with them, her eyes drawn to them while her face became flushed. When he’d first laid her on the bed and begun touching her, she was noticeably wet.

Now she was hysterical, causing him to stop touching her, though two of his hands still had her wrists pinned down. When she realized he had paused, her screams died down and she laid there, panting, staring up at him with terrified eyes.

Oh. It was her. He’d almost forgotten. He’d invited her to his bed simply because she’d happened to be there in the hallway and looked pretty on her I knees in front of him. He’d given no thought to her history, to what had happened to her during the attack on the village. In all honesty, he really didn’t care what had happened to her. She had voluntarily become a servant in his shrine, knowing what that would entail.

It wasn’t as if Sukuna had never forced himself on a woman. It was rare, as there was simply no need for it. He could go to any of the villages that revered him and have women vying for the honor of pleasing him. But occasionally he used it as a way to punish his enemies, taking their wives in front of them. In most cases, the wives ended up moaning and cumming on his cocks while their pathetic husbands were forced to watch.

In even rarer instances, so rare it had only happened a handful of times throughout his life, he had forced himself on powerful Jujutsu sorceresses who had tried to defeat him. Those cases were not even about sex for him, but about power, about dominance, about conquering their bodies to assert who was strongest. There was a thrill in breaking them.

Looking down at the sniffling, teary woman in his bed, he felt no thrill whatsoever. There was nothing exciting about conquering something so weak, breaking something that was already broken. With a sigh of annoyance, he climbed off her and stood up.

“Leave me,” he said, picking up his own robe from the floor and pulling it back on. “Your blubbering has made my cocks soft.”

The woman scurried out of his bed, then immediately dropped to the floor in a low bow. “Forgive me, Lord Sukuna!” she cried. “It hasn’t been very long since… since I was…” Her voice trailed off.

“Since you were raped, I know. I saw.”

Her face reddened. Was she ashamed that he’d witnessed at least a small part of the assault? Another thing about ordinary human women he didn’t understand. Why was she ashamed of the actions of others? Ah well, it didn’t matter.

“I haven’t been… with a man… since that happened,” she continued, her eyes on the floor. “I beg for patience, my Lord. I’m sure that after some time has passed, I won’t be so frightened.”

He sighed again. He would have preferred for her to simply leave his chambers without a word rather than prattle on about her problems. “Fine, fine,” he said, waving one of his hands dismissively, “now go. I’ve suddenly grown bored and sleepy.”

The servant quickly pulled her robe on, saying, “Thank you for your mercy, my Lord!” before rushing out the door.

Mercy? Sukuna scoffed. He’d simply found her annoying and sent her away. He considered sending for another servant, but he was no longer in the mood. So he sank into his bed and let sleep take him.

#Sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #tw: rape

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Note

hi hey hello i am here to humbly request a sexy lil stevie blurb where he’s getting his succu bussed by demon babe.

go nuts. go wild. maybe steve is a good catholic boy maybe he’s not i dunno the evil power is in your hands.

goodBoy!Steve x demon!fem!Reader

18+ONLY - MDNI - smut, Steve falls in love, unprotected p in v, hint of dubcon but only for a moment, demon sex, oral for all, hints to religious trauma, heaven and hell, mention of demons, curses, star-crossed lovers. wc: 2.9k

Good Boy

Steve Harrington was on his knees that night, praying at the foot of the bed, waiting for the all too familiar rustling sound to come from inside the closet. He prayed louder, faster, but he knew you were coming for him, just like you had every night since he found The Book and accidentally summoned you.

He’d tried to throw the book out the window, he’d tried to burn the book, but every night it returned to his bedside table, right where his bible used to be. His family farm had fallen on hard times; the dirt was dry, and the crops were dying, and an old woman in town sold him a book with a spell inside that would bring life back to the land. Steve had always been a very good boy; he worshiped at church, and he worked from sunup to sundown on the farm. He had sexual relations with women before, of course. Once right out of high school, and a couple times with his first girlfriend, Dora, but she always told him he was too big, and it hurt. Steve didn’t want to hurt anyone, and so he’d been saving himself for marriage ever since.

That is, until, that first night the demon came to claim him.

It’d been 7 unholy days full of sins unimaginable since the night he drew the symbol on the floor, dripped blood from his pricked finger, and recited the spell from the book. 7 days since the rains came and the diseased crops glowed ripe and plentiful like an overnight miracle. The book itself was tanned leather, made from some type of skin, embossed with three symbols on the spine but no other distinguishing markings. At first, he cursed the day he was stopped by that old woman in the street, peddling her wares in a pushcart.

Her wrinkled hand snaked out from under her black shawl to take his wrist with a touch that was hot with fever. “You’ll never know if you don’t try it,” she rasped, hunched over, her face in shadow. “Many people have been cured by my spells; many roses have bloomed in my wake. A good boy like you deserves to be rewarded.”

He didn’t even remember buying the book, but suddenly it was clutched under his arm, wrapped in newspaper, and he was on the other side of the street. He looked around, searching for the old woman, but it was as if she’d never existed. He adjusted his glasses, lip curled in confusion, running a hand through his unruly hair. When he unwrapped the paper to see what he had, he realized the pages in the book were, indeed, not the word of God, and so he threw it away in the nearest garbage can.

That was the first time it ended up back on his nightstand. He tossed it out the window and into the pond, only to have it materialize minutes later. He recited the lord's prayer and begged for God to remove the book, but it was no use.

That night, he lay in bed shirtless, one hand behind his head, kept wide awake by the compulsion to perform the spell in the book the old woman had told him about. In a half hour, the spell was done, and he was wiping the chalk and blood off the wood floor, shaking his head, sucking back tears at the idea of a lifetime in purgatory.

But, the next day, he realized the spell had worked, and maybe the woman was right: good boys deserve to be rewarded, and Steve was a very good boy.

That night, after an afternoon of celebration at the farm for the miracle that had clearly been a gift from God himself, Steve crawled into bed with a smile on his face. Under the covers, he jerked himself off, riddled with shame as he did so, moaning a bit to himself, worrying his parents would hear him downstairs. Blind in the dark without his glasses, he reached for the box of tissues with his cum-covered hand, and touched The Book instead, wiping his seed across the symbols on the spine.

That was the first time he heard the noises coming from the closet: a swoosh, and then a stomp, and then the rattling of the doorknob as something worked it open from the inside.

When Steve snapped the light on, there you were, standing at the end of the bed. Looming formidable, smooth red skin tight against your muscles, two horns curled on either side of your head like that of a ram, eyes wide and glossy black. You wore a harness on your neck, breasts bare and firm, nipples hard. From the waist down, there appeared to be dark fur, as if you had the hips and legs of a goat, complete with the glimpse of a hoof just before it morphed into a human foot, and a human leg.

Steve scrambled back against the headboard, too afraid to even scream, struggling to get his glasses on.

“Begone demon!” His voice quivered. But why did he like what he saw so much? You sauntered around the corner of the bed to get closer, long, pointed tongue flicking out to touch your cheek. There was a purring, or a clicking noise happening in the back of your throat

His cock was rock hard, the tip sticky against the inside of the blanket.

“Do you want me to help with this?” You asked, in the same tone a snake might speak with, finishing with long S’s.

Steve gasped when you pulled back the cover to reveal his generous length curved tight up his stomach above his white boxers. You sat down on the bed near his leg, the springs squeaking, and his cock twitched, aching as he watched every flick of your tongue. With a snap of your fingers, the bedside lamp went out, so now the moon through the thin curtains was the only witness to the weight of Steve’s desire.

Your teeth were sharp, but your lips were soft, and it was all Steve could do not to buck his hips in his eagerness for you to take him. This had to be a dream, and in dreams, you can’t be held accountable for the things you take part in. Maybe he’d even forget it by the time he woke up. He kicked the blanket all the way down with his socked feet, and you ran your pointed nails along his hairy shin, all the way up to the hem of his shorts, making him shiver. You scratched at his balls gently with the tips of your nails through his boxers, tapping tapping, causing more pre-cum to dribble from his tip.

“Are you…” Steve stammered. Sweat shining on the skin under his chest hair. “...what do you want from me?”

“I want to taste you,” you told him, eyeing the tip of his cock hungrily. Knowing full well you could take him even if he said no, Steve nodded, bracing his hands on either side of him.

You bent over but kept your black eyes on him, dropping your long, pink tongue down to taste the sweet skin of his shaft and the fresh juice from his hole, concentrating on the ridge under his flesh tip. You wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as you did so, softly grazing the skin with your teeth. Steve threw his head back, his balls aching to do their job again. Your mouth was so wet, your tongue like velvet. He really did not want to like this, but dreams were funny that way.

"I need more,” you swallowed, rubbing your lips together. “You're such a good boy, so patient.”

“I- I- I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve stuttered as you pulled his boxers down and made your way onto the bed to straddle him. He was concerned with you taking the generous nature of his girth.

The sentiment made you close your eyes, roll your head back and growl, imagining the seed of such a good boy feeding the darkness inside of you. You took his hand, bringing his fingers to the slick slit between your legs.

“Holy moly,” Steve gasped. “Is that…because of me?” His eyes were so innocent when they found your dark orbs, it made you line his cock up with your hole and sink down, pinching the tip with your tight inner muscles, hovering there.

“Remember what I told you?” You waited to hear him whimper with need before you sank all the way down. “Good boys deserve rewards.”

The speed and strength with which you rode him had his eyes rolling back so that only the whites were visible, neck muscles straining when he turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look at me,” you told him, demanding. You took one of his hands. “Circle your thumb right here,” you brought it to your clit. “Rub it fast, just like that, so I can cum too.”

“Wait, women can cum? Like men do?” Steve blanched in between grunts of pleasure, raising his hips in jerky movements to meet the way you pounded down on his cock. “I don’t think I’ve ever been inside anyone this deep before.” He frowned in concentration, rubbing your clit like he was told, experiencing waves of pleasure he never thought were possible.

“You fill me up so good,” you assured him, bottoming out and then rocking back and forth. Every time you rose, you milked him with your tight walls.

Steve barely had time to bark a warning that he was cumming before the whip cracked inside of him and he was pumping all he had inside of you.

“Oh good boy, good boy,” you repeated, thighs making a smacking sound as you helped him ride his high. “All of it, give it all to me.”

You waited until he was done, head back breathless on the pillow, before you slipped him out of you and got on your belly to lick him clean. Your tongue worked under his balls, tickling at his ass, thinking you’d like to stick more in there one day, enjoying his moans as he discovered sensations he liked but had never explored before.

Steve wasn’t sure what you were doing when you moved up to straddle his head, positioning your dripping pussy above his face. But, then you lowered yourself to his mouth and he understood, throwing his tongue around in your folds as best he could while cum dripped out of your hole and down his chin.

You wanted to fuck that sweet mouth until the end of time. Grabbing the headboard, you cursed in your ancient language, cunt rippling against his full lips as you came. You let out a growl that was animalistic, and Steve realized that the sound triggered a lust deep inside and turned him on, just like everything else about you.

The day after that, Steve had a spring in his step. The best sex of his life had been with a demon in his dream, but still—he felt as satisfied as if it had happened in real life. His parents did say they heard him up late walking around his room, and swore they heard a coyote whining right outside their window, but he brushed it off after he apologized profusely for waking them.

But, that very next night, he was forced to come to the cold, hard conclusion that, not only were you real, but he was starting to have feelings for you.

Fully dressed, Steve took his glasses off and threw water on his face in the bathroom sink, trying to wake himself up when you appeared out of the closet the next night. “No way, no how, no sir,” he shook his head. “There’s no way this is happening.”

He faced you and jabbed his finger at the book, water dripping from his hair and nose. “God will smite me if I continue to fornicate with you, and this book is to blame.”

You were not forced to fuck Steve because of a curse. That first night, yes, he had inadvertently summoned you. But, after that, it was your own free will that had you polishing your horns and sharpening your claws, wanting to look good for him. Steve had free will too, and he could’ve told you at any moment that he didn’t want you there, but he never did.

On that second night, the two of you kissed for the first time, and then you sucked him off, swallowing him deep inside, making his legs shake and his knees buckle. Every night was a new sexual experiment, a new avenue of lust to pave Steve’s way to hell.

On the fifth night, you were next to him in bed, silicone strap-on harnessed in place, still slick with lube, and he took your strong, red hand in his. “You know what? If you’re in hell, I don’t think it would be so bad.”

You turned your head on the pillow. “There’s something I should tell you.”

The sound of your voice made Steve afraid. He turned on his side to face you, tucking his hands under his head like a pillow. “I’m listening.”

You kept your gaze to the shadows of the ceiling. “I’m only here for seven days,” you swallowed hard. “And then I have to go back.”

“Back? Back where? In the closet?” Steve pressed.

‘Back…where I’m from,” you said softly.

“Wait, back to hell?”

You gave a crooked grin. “If that’s what you want to call it. But I am not of your world, clearly,” you used your hand to gesture to your body and your horns.

“I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he offered, sincerely.

You blinked a few times, almost shy under his earnest gaze. “There’s a portal in the closet and it’s going to close on the seventh night,” only as you said the words did they start to sink in for you. “We’ll never see each other again.”

The two of you sat in silence for most of the rest of that visit, trying to come to terms with the weight of your realities.

On the seventh and final night, there were tears from both parties. You let him see you that night, in your actual half human, half beast form, and he did not turn away from you. Steve filled you up while on top of you, kissing you, missionary style. It was the most vanilla of all of the positions, but it was quickly becoming your favorite as you wrapped your furry legs around him. You drifted in and out of sleep in each other’s arms; you could only stay till midnight and Steve wanted you there until the last second. You’d had plenty of lovers in your day, back in your world, but none of them had been as tender as Steve. You worried that you cared about him enough to make the separation very painful.

“What will happen if you don’t go in?” Steve asked, holding your hand outside the closet.

“I’ll probably cease to exist,” you shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

Fair enough, Steve didn’t want to take any chances. If he could summon you once, he could summon you again, and he’d work every spell in the book until he figured it out. When the time came, there was one last tearful look and hand hold before the door shut, but just as it closed flush with the wall, Steve flung it open again, needing one more kiss from you.

But, you were already gone.

You were not the only thing missing. To Steve’s horror, he realized he was no longer in possession of The Book. There was an empty space on the nightstand, and it was not under the bed or in any of his drawers.

The next morning, he tore his room apart, rummaging through the tiny closet, groaning in frustration, flipping shoe boxes over his head and ripping coats off of hangers.

“What’s going on up there, Stevie? We’ll be late for church.” His mother’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m not going!” Steve barked, but then he collected himself. “My apologies mother. I’ll be right down.”

The sermon by Pastor Wilson was particularly long and torturous that day for Steve in his button down shirt and tie. He desperately wanted nothing more than to go back to his closet and find a way to get back to you. Pastor Wilson asked the congregation to stand for a hymn and that was when Steve caught sight of a familiar sight out of the corner of his eye: it was the hunched over figure of the old woman he’d bought the book from. She was standing outside the church window, looking in, her black scarf over her head, bracing against the wind.

But, she was moving now, turning and walking away.

Steve followed, excusing himself, he pushed through bodies as fast as he could without knocking people over while the congregation sang about begging for holy protection from satan.

Steve broke through the church door and out into the daylight just in time to see the older woman disappear around a street corner, shuffling her cart with her. Steve ripped his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt, preparing to run the distance to catch up with her.

“Leaving now?” An elderly man shouted after Steve from inside the church. “You’ll go to hell for that, son.”

“God, I hope so,” Steve barked over his shoulder, arms pumping as he lit out across the street, running toward the devil with all his might.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington oneshot #stranger things smut #oneshot #demon #monsterfucking #monsterfucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #joe keery #steveharringtonsm #steve smut #sh

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 6 months

Text

Love Me, Anyway

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Request: Joseph may have always grown up dreaming of having children and being a great father to them, and he plans to propose to his long-time girlfriend soon, just in time for her to find out that she will never have children because of a health problem related to her, and she decides to leave him, even though she loves him very much, thinking that she cannot give Joseph the life he wants.

Trigger Warnings: Infertility

You dragged yourself up the stairs of your apartment complex, each step feeling like a journey of a thousand of the most difficult miles of your life. Your body was a balloon and you were trying to keep all the air inside. Your arms wrapped around your stomach as if you could hold yourself together, keep yourself from falling apart. The news you’d received an hour ago had been a deep and crushing blow to your soul.

You failed. You were a failure, broken, incapable of doing the one thing that a woman was supposed to be able to do, that women had been doing since the dawn of time. Your entire world, the future you’d envisioned for yourself, crashing down in an epic, heart shattering explosion before your eyes. A piece of yourself was gone and you would never get it back. You’d failed yourself and worse than that, you’d failed the person you loved more than anything.

On autopilot, you dug in your purse for your key but when you inserted it into the lock, you were surprised to find the door was already unlocked. Shit. That could only mean one thing. You couldn’t do this. Not yet. You’d been hoping to drown in your misery, sob in silence where no one could hear you, prepare yourself for the inevitable second heartbreak, the one that was going to shatter your heart into a million pieces that could never be repaired again.

The briny smell of garlic and the tang of tomato fills your nose as you push open the door and enter your apartment. Jack Johnson’s ‘Better Together’ plays over the speakers in the kitchen as you catch sight of Joe, his back to you as he stirs sauce in a pot. Just the sight of those brown locks, curling gently at his neck, those broad shoulders underneath a cream sweater. Not just any cream sweater, your favorite one, the one that feels like you imagine a fluffy cloud would feel under your fingers.

“And all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight. But I know that they'll be gone when the morning light sings,” Joe sang softly as he swayed, pouring the contents of the saucepan into the skillet.

He always said he couldn’t sing, that no one would want to hear him. But that was a lie because you loved to listen to him. His voice was your favorite sound in the world, usually so soothing, a balm to your soul. But tonight it was like torture, a voice that hissed in your ear, reminding you of all the things you couldn’t have. That picture the two of you had painted, the plans you’d made, the future you’d longed for, it was all gone. A blade had been taken to the canvas, shredding it until nothing was left and you were going to lose everything that mattered to you in a matter of hours. How would you ever survive such unimaginable loss?

Joe would never stand in this apartment again after tonight. He would never cook another meal for you, the two of you would never spend the night cuddled up on the couch watching movies, you would never tumble into bed with hands desperately grabbing for each other. This was the end. No happy ending for you. No prince whisking you off to your happily ever after. Your story was going to end painfully, brutally, and you had to accept that because you couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t deprive this man you loved so much of the one thing he’d always wanted so much.

“Joe…” you said softly, three small letters, one syllable that your voice struggled to make.

The pan clanged as he spun around, his hand coming up to his chest, “Jesus darling, you scared me.” He laughed, his hands finding your arms, pulling you in, tucking you into the safety of his chest. Your cheek ran over the soft material of his sweater, your nose breathed him in, trying to absorb every minute detail of this moment that could be your last. “I was trying to surprise you with dinner but you surprised me. I didn’t expect you home so soon. Don’t you normally get off work at five?”

“Yeah,” you managed, unsure how, his arms the only thing that was keeping you from sinking to the floor. “I had an appointment today so I left early.”

“Appointment?” Joe pulled back, hands gripping your biceps, chocolate button eyes full of concern, concern that only fractured you that much more. “What kind of appointment? You didn’t mention anything. Is everything alright?”

“No…I mean, yeah…I mean, everything’s fine,” you lied, your eyes closing as you inhale slowly through your nose. You had to stay strong. You had to hold yourself together just a little longer, enough to do what you had to do, and then you could let yourself crumble. “It was just a routine appointment with my gynecologist. It didn’t seem worth mentioning and I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Well, I didn’t say anything because I wanted to surprise you.” Joe releases his hold on you, leaving you cold, slipping under, into the darkness, desperate for his arms again. He waves his arm toward the stove. “I am making puttanesca, your favorite, and I got us a great bottle of wine.”

“Fancy. What’s the occasion?” you mumbled, your hand grabbing onto the counter, bracing yourself. You were drowning, flailing, struggling to keep your head above water.

“You,” he mused with a lopsided smile, his hands locking around the small of your back. Soft, plush lips brushed over yours so gently that you had to swallow down the tears that were fighting like a flood raging against a dam. “You’re the occasion, my love. You’re always the occasion. Do I really need a special reason to have a romantic evening with my girl?”

“No…of course not…”

“Have a seat and relax. I’ll make you a plate and pour you a glass of wine.”

Just do it, you told yourself. Get it over with. Rip off the band-aid and let the wound bleed. It would only be harder if you allowed this romantic evening he had planned to continue. Better to just do it. He would leave. You could fall apart and Joe would have the opportunity to move on with his life, to find someone who could give him everything he’d ever wanted because it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you. Not anymore. You were broken, defective, and this man deserved a woman who was whole.

Your brain may be on board but your body was not. Your feet took you to the table, your knees bent as you sat in the chair. Your heart was desperate for one more evening, one more dinner, one more moment where it could pretend that everything was okay. Where it could gaze upon that perfect face, the face you never tired of looking at, and know that it was yours. Just a bit longer and then you would let him go because it was the right thing to do.

Joe set your plate down in front of you, the pasta dish looking delicious, but your stomach twisted violently. You didn’t think you could put anything in your mouth right now, bile rising up in your throat. Shit. Were you going to be sick? No. You swallowed it back. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. The urge dissipated and you sighed in relief, picking up your fork, moving the food around, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t actually eating.

“How was your meeting?” you asked, hoping it would get Joe talking because you didn’t trust yourself to say much. You were hanging on by a thread, a breath away from completely coming undone.

Joe took a sip of wine, grinning widely, “Really well. Really well. I am excited about this project. The script is amazing, really dark and unique. It’s a real psychological trip. Great fun but also mind fucking in the best way. It’s different from anything else I’ve ever done.”

“Good, I’m glad. I know you’re trying to have a really diversified body of work.”

“I am. I don’t want to get pigeon holed, you know? If you’re not careful in this business, you get typecast. I was worried after Stranger Things. Don’t get me wrong. That was great fun. I loved the cast and crew on that show and I am so grateful for the doors it opened. I wouldn’t have the opportunities I have now if it weren’t for that role but the way it blew up, the love the fans had for Eddie…it just concerned me that I wouldn’t get taken seriously as an actor. But I feel like I’ve done a good variety of roles now that have shown the range of my skills.”

“You have,” you mumbled into your glass, taking a long drink of your wine, willing it to calm your nerves, to relax your muscles. “When will filming start?”

“In four months,” he answered, mistaking the look on your face, thinking it was concern about him traveling for work. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve been through this before. I’ll fly back when I can and I’ll fly you in to visit. Filming will probably take a little over three months. Besides, I predict you could be quite busy while I’m gone.”

You looked up at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Joe’s lips pressed together for a moment and he suddenly looked nervous. His head tilted to the side, those beautiful lips curving into the sweetest smile. Leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, those soft brown eyes meeting yours.

“Darling, I love you so much.” A weight so heavy it was going to crush your heart slammed into your chest. “These past two years have been the most amazing year of my life. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you. I want you by my side always. You make me better. It’s been so hard knowing who I can trust, who is genuine but never with you. I know you love me. You don’t care about the fame or the money or any of the celebrity bullshit. You just want me. You’ve been my safe place. You’re my home and I know, without a single doubt, that you always will be. You’re the person I want to come home to. You’re the person I want to sleep next to every night and the face I want to see when I open my eyes every morning.”

He rose from his chair, coming around the table to stand in front of you. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing so forcefully you could hear it whooshing in your ears. Joe’s hand slid into his pocket, revealing a small velvet box and you whimpered. No. This could not be happening. Not now. Not today.

This beautiful man lowered himself to one knee, opening the box and presenting the most beautiful, simple princess cut ring to you. Emotions lodged in your throat, strangling you, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes widened, hysteria taking over. Hand clutched at your shirt, pulling it away from your body as you tried to tell yourself this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

“I knew from the moment I met you that night at the pub that you were my forever. I told Wes I was going to marry you one day and I don’t want to wait even one more moment to start the rest of my life with you. Darling, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“I…oh god…Joe…I…this is…what…” you stammered, tears flooding your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Grief as you had never known crashed down over you like a tidal wave. This man, this beautiful, wonderful, perfect man was asking you to spend the rest of your life with him and you couldn’t even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in your life. You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t condemn him to a life that was lacking, a life that wasn’t what he wanted. You couldn’t stand to see resentment in his eyes years down the road, resentment directed at you because his life wasn’t what he’d pictured. You were going to drown in this grief, the tidal wave pulling you out to the deepest depths of the sea.

Joe chuckled nervously, his thumb running over your cheek, collecting some of the tears, “I hope these are tears of joy that you are shedding, sweetheart.”

“Joe…”

The word was a plea, a grief-stricken cry, a desperate sob and then your shoulders were shaking. Your body folded in half and Joe’s arms were instantly around you, pulling you to him. You slid off the chair and down into his lap. His breath was warm against your ear, lips brushing over your cheek.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he questioned, his voice panic-stricken.

“I can’t,” you cried, shaking your head, your face buried against his neck.

All you wanted to do was stay here, in the safety of his embrace, surrounded by his warmth and comfort, but you couldn’t. You had to do this and you had to do it now. You pushed away from him, wiping your eyes and rising to your feet. Joe followed, standing in front of you, hands reaching out but you backed up before he could grab you.

“Love, what is this? What’s happening?”

“Joe, I can’t marry you,” you rasped, body trembling as you fought back the tears, fought to regain control of yourself.

“What?” He stepped forward and you stepped back again. “Why the hell not?”

“Because…” What reason could you give him that would make any sense? There was none. There was no reason in the world why you shouldn’t marry this perfect creature. No reason you should be causing the pain that was etched onto that beautiful face. “Because it wouldn’t work, Joe. There’s no way this works.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his hand closing around the velvet box, squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Is this about my work? I know my job is…different. I have to be away sometimes but we’ve made it work so far.”

“Joe, I know but it doesn’t work for a long term marriage. I need stability. I need someone I can depend on to be here. I…” You were lying through your teeth but you knew you had to make it hurt if he was ever going to believe you. You needed him to walk away because you weren’t sure you were strong enough to do it. “I need someone that I can trust.”

Joe reeled back as if you’d slapped him, “And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always traveling. You’re always surrounded by these beautiful women. Your co-stars and the models you’ve done shoots with and the fans that throw themselves at you. How am I supposed to sit at home all the time, wondering what you’re doing?”

“When have I ever given you cause to doubt me?” he pleaded, his hands open in front of him as if begging you. If he didn’t stop, you were going to give in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

“It’s only a matter of time, Joe. What celebrity has ever had a successful marriage? You’re a man. You can only resist temptation for so long. It’s inevitable.”

Those eyes that were usually as warm as a cup of coffee turned ice cold and you knew you’d succeeded. You’d broken the two of you, shattered it irrevocably, just like your heart. Joe would hate you. He would despise you for thinking such things of him but that’s what had to happen if he had any chance of being happy in the future.

“That’s what you think of me?” he hissed, stepping back. “You really think I’m capable of doing something like that to you? You doubt us so much that you can’t see this working? You think we’re doomed?”

“I do,” you insisted, lifting your chin in defiance, putting on an air of strength and resolve that you didn’t have. “Joe, this has been fun but that’s all it was. That was all it was ever going to be.”

With two long strides, he stepped into you, tilting his head, eyes boring into yours, “Bullshit.”

“Wh…what?” you gasped.

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you. You just told me you love me. Fun does not last for two years. I’ve felt you, darling. The way you kiss me, the way you cling to me when we make love, the way you want me,” he growled. His nose brushed along your forehead, moving down your cheek and you shuddered. “I’ve heard you, the things you whisper in my ear while I’m inside you, the promises you’ve uttered while we lay in bed. That’s not fun. That’s forever.”

“Joe, I…please…” you begged, eyes slipping closed when his hand slid under your shirt, splaying over the skin of your back. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Make what harder? Your bullshit break-up? The lies you’re telling me?” His lips molded to yours and your own responded, betraying you, instantly recognizing and wanting him. His forehead pressed against yours with a smile. “See? You love me. So, what is this really about? Why are you trying to destroy a really fucking good thing?”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, eyes slipping closed, tears creating trails of heartbreak down your cheeks. “I can’t be what you need, Joe. Trust me. This is the best thing.”

“Why would you say that? Why would you even think that?”

His arms were around you again, crushing you to his chest. His chin rested on the top of your head, the insanely soft sweater caressing the skin of your cheek. The sweater you were currently soaking with your tears, probably ruining with your smeared make-up but Joe didn’t seem to notice or care as he held you. His grip was like iron, keeping you from pulling away, as if he could stop you from leaving.

“Darling, I want you with every fiber of my being. I have never wanted anything more than I want you, the future we have planned together, the life we’ve dreamed of. You are what I need. You’re all I need. I can’t do this without you.”

“But I can’t give you that future. That dream is nothing but that, a dream, if you stay with me.”

“What are you going on about?”

A sigh of defeat rushed from your lips, knowing you would have to tell him. There was no escaping this. You’d thought you could anger him enough to make him walk away but he’d called your bluff and it was time to put all of your cards on the table. You pulled back as much as you could, tilting your head up to look into his face.

“That doctor’s appointment…it wasn’t just a routine exam. I missed my period. I didn’t think much of it because my periods have always been irregular. But then I missed another one. I thought I might be pregnant but I’m not…I never will be. I’ve also been so tired lately. I’ve had trouble concentrating at work. They ran some tests and I have primary ovulation insufficiency. I don’t ovulate. I can’t have kids, Joe.”

His lips parted, eyes widening in shock. There it was. Now he would know. He would understand. Joe would agree with you. The two of you had dreamed of a future with children. He wanted at least three, a big family. He wanted to be a dad so badly and you couldn’t give that to him. Of course he wouldn’t want you.

“I’m defective,” you whispered, attempting to pull back from him but he simply held on tighter. “I’m broken. You don’t deserve that. How can we be together when I can’t give you the one thing you want more than anything?”

“The one thing I want more than anything is you,” Joe stated, one hand sliding along your back to cup the back of your neck. “I am so sorry. You went through all of this alone? Darling, why didn’t you just tell me? I could have been there for you. I would have gone to the doctor with you.”

“How could I tell you? You’ve made it very clear that you want children, Joe. You have always dreamed of being a dad. You’ve gone on and on about all the things you want to do, the experiences you want your kids to have, when you’re a dad. I knew I was going to lose you if the test didn’t go my way.”

Joe’s face scrunched and you fought the urge to kiss his nose, “Why would you lose me?”

“Joe, are you even listening to me?” you groaned.

“I am. I’ve heard everything that you’ve said. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your ability to give me children. I fell in love with you because you’re perfect for me. You’re everything I could have ever wanted, everything I’ve dreamed of. If we want kids someday, there are ways. We can always adopt.”

“But they wouldn’t be yours,” you argued.

“Of course they would be. Genetics are not everything, sweetheart. Love is. There are so many kids out there who need loving homes, need someone to treat them like the most important person in the world. And we would. You will be an amazing mother, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I just…I feel like such a failure. My body is incapable of doing the thing that essentially makes me a woman.”

“The ability to birth children does not define who you are,” Joe stated, shaking his head. “Your strength, your kind heart, your beautiful soul…those are what makes you who you are. Anatomy has nothing to do with that. You are the most perfect person I know. There is nothing defective about you.”

“You still want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it, terrified the rug would get pulled out from under you the minute you allowed yourself to.

“Of course I do. Darling, there is no one else for me but you,” he asserted, pulling the ring from his pocket once again. “Now, can we try this again?” He opened it, holding it out in front of him. “Would you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me because you are my absolute everything?”

You looked down at the ring and then up into the face of the man you loved. Your friends rolled their eyes when you gushed about how perfect he was but it was true. There was not another man out there who could hold a candle to Joe and there would never be another man for you.

“Yes,” you grinned, nodding. “Yes!”

“That’s the correct answer,” he laughed, one hand grabbing onto your waist, pulling you in for a soft, sweet kiss.

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too and we are going to have the most amazing life together,” Joe breathed, sliding the ring onto your left hand. “You and me forever, darling.”

“You and me, forever,” you agreed, wanting nothing more.

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maskedtruths666 · 9 months

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Part 9! Denise and Jared reevaluate their relationship.

The two of them spent the rest of the trip in separate rooms, giving each other space to think things through. Or at least they thought they did. Every other night, Denise was getting her pussy thoroughly used by her two bosses. The amount of cum that filled her pussy day in day out was unimaginable. Jared on the other hand, did not even have sex with Christina or Claudia, despite their best attempts at seducing him. All until, the very last night of the trip.

On the last night of the trip, Jared finally mustered the courage to head to Denise’s room to talk to her. He decided to forgive her and understand that what she’s doing is purely for advancement in the corporate world and she still loves him. He decided that enough was enough, he did not want to torture himself anymore.

On the last night of the trip, there was a company party and everyone was invited. Denise was overjoyed that Jared forgave her and is more than happy to head to the party with him. She promised that she will keep her sexcapades to a minimum and only engage in such activities with his approval. However, what she didn’t tell him is that the dress she was wearing, isn’t a new dress but rather, it was a gift from her bosses who used her for the past few days.

“As always, you look amazing in the dresses that you wear.” Jared remarked. “I’d love to make love to you in this dress once we are back in our hotel tonight.” Jared told her and she promised him that they would. That got Jared’s engine running and he eagerly awaited the end of the night.

On the other hand, Christina and Claudia were both wearing skin tight outfits and knew that their partners were just going crazy over Denise. They knew they had one last chance to seduce Jared before they parted ways and they wanted to give him a night to remember.

As they reached the party, Denise asked Jared to help her take an OOTD by the hallway because no one was there yet and she’d wanted to send her OOTDs to her bosses as a memoir.

Once Jared finished taking an OOTD for her, he brought her to one side to grope her in secret. Jared had a weakness for such silky satin dresses and he could only dream of finished on her satin dress tonight.

Soon after, Michael, Henry, Claudia and Christina walked into the room.

Henry announced to Jared and Denise that this is actually going to be a swinger party and that no one else is coming. The 6 of them could exchange partners the whole night and the night would be over only when the clock strikes 6am.

Before Jared could protest, Henry said, “I’ve got a ton of sex pills to keep you going all night, I’ve got lots of outfits for the ladies to wear and I’ve got lots of other hungry, horny, desperate and uneducated male staff here who would kill us to have our women. So gentlemen, let us fill our ladies with our seed and satisfy them. Or don’t, it’s your woman, your call.”

Christina opted to change into something that Henry loved. She wore her sexy corset bralette and got down on her knees to suck Henry off.

As Claudia went to change, she beckoned Michael and Jared to go over. With Henry’s cock in her mouth, Michael walked over and unzipped his pants to let Christina suck them off interchangeably. Jared on the other hand didn’t know how to react but he knew he was rock hard. Denise said, “Go on, I’ll be out shortly.”

Claudia soon came out in a baby pink satin dress that Jared knew he had to get a piece of. Jared could keep his eyes off Claudia. So as soon as Claudia came out of the toilet, he walked over to her and Claudia gladly got on her knees to suck him off.

As she was sucking Jared off, he was in extreme bliss. Christina on the other hand was sucking off Henry and Michael. As Michael saw his Claudia sucking Jared off, he said to him, “No hard feelings man, but I’ll be balls deep in Denise soon.” Which drew mixed reactions as that statement turned Jared on even more but made Claudia jealous.

Next, Denise went to change into something classy yet gave off an innocent yet slutty vibe. As she came out into the room, Michael went over to her and ordered her on her knees. Seeing how his pretty Denise was dominated in such a fashion, Jared could not help but start face fucking Claudia faster.

As Denise was obeying Michael like a good slut, Henry also wanted a piece of Denise. So he decided to switch out Christina for Denise. Leaving Christina pretty annoyed that she could not satisfy him even more. But Henry knew he would not leave her high and dry. So, whilst his cock was in Denise’s mouth, he ordered a boy toy for Christina. He chose the most muscular and handsome guy to come into the room to pleasure Christina whilst himself, Jared or Michael were too busy for her.

As Denise was on her knees sucking off Henry and Michael simultaneously, Jared got hornier and hornier, more and more jealous that he was seeing his petite Denise being such a whore. He could not take it anymore and had to unleash his cum. So he ordered Claudia to get up, bend over on the bed and without warning he unleashed a huge load of cum all over her pink satin dress, as if marking his territory.

Denise, seemingly satisfied that Jared had already cum, decided to walk over to him and put his throbbing dick in her mouth. As she slowly sucked him as he lay on the bed beside Claudia, she made eye contact with him and she said to him, “I want to be fucked by Henry, Michael, you and the muscular boy toy all at once, until I orgasm to each of your dicks in my pussy.”

Jared was immediately turned on and super shocked by that statement and was eager for that to happen.

Next part will be the finale. It will be a finale fuck fest! Stay tuned!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Iowa's starvation strategy

I don’t really buy that “the cruelty is the point.” I’m a materialist. Money talks, bullshit walks. When billionaires fund unimaginably cruel policies, I think the cruelty is a tactic, a way to get the turkeys to vote for Christmas. After all, policies that grow the fortune of the 1% at the expense of the rest of us have a natural 99% disapproval rating.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#replicable-cruelty

So when some monstrous new law or policy comes down the pike, it’s best understood as a way of getting frightened, angry — and often hateful — people to vote for policies that will actively harm them, by claiming that they will harm others — brown and Black people, women, queers, and the “undeserving” poor.

Pro-oligarch policies don’t win democratic support — but policies that inflict harm a ginned-up group of enemies might. Oligarchs need frightened, hateful people to vote for policies that will secure and expand the power of the rich. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the strategy. The point isn’t cruelty, it’s power:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/25/roe-v-wade-v-abortion/#no-i-in-uterus

But that doesn’t change the fact that the policies are cruel indeed. Take Iowa, whose billionaire-backed far-right legislature is on a tear, a killing spree that includes active collaboration with rapists, through a law that denies abortion care to survivors of rape and forces them to bear and care for their rapists’ babies:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/16/us/politics/iowa-kamala-harris-abortion.html

The forced birth movement is part of the wider far-right tactic of standing up for imaginary children (e.g. “the unborn,” fictional victims of Hollywood pedo cabals), and utterly abandons real children: poor kids who can’t afford school lunches, kids in cages, kids victimized by youth pastors, kids forced into child labor, etc.

So Iowa isn’t just a forced birth state, it’s a state where children are now to be starved, literally. The state legislature has just authorized an $18m project to kick people off of SNAP (aka food stamps). 270,000 people in Iowa rely on SNAP: elderly people, disabled people, and parents who can’t feed their kids.

Writing in the Washington Post, Kyle Swenson profiles some of these Iowans, like an elderly woman who visited Lisa Spitler’s food pantry for help and said that state officials had told her that she was only eligible for $23/month in assistance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2023/04/16/iowa-snap-restrictions-food-stamps/

That’s because Iowa governor KimReynolds signed a bill cutting the additional SNAP aid — federally funded, and free to the state taxpayers of Iowa — that had been made available during the lockdown. Since then, food pantries have been left to paper over the cracks in the system, as Iowans begin to starve.

Before the pandemic, Spitler’s food pantry saw 30 new families a month. Now it’s 100 — and growing. Many of these families have been kicked off of SNAP because they failed to complete useless and confusing paperwork, or did so but missed the short deadlines now imposed by the state. For example, people with permanent disabilities and elderly people who no longer work must continuously file new paperwork confirming that their income hasn’t changed. Their income never changes.

SNAP recipients often work, borrow from relations, and visit food pantries, and still can’t make ends meet, like Amy Cunningham, a 31 year old mother of four in Charlton. She works at a Subway, has tapped her relatives for all they can afford, and relies on her $594/month in SNAP to keep her kids from going hungry. She missed her notice of an annual review and was kicked off the program. Getting kicked off took an instant. Getting reinstated took a starving eternity.

Iowa has a budget surplus of $1.91B. This doesn’t stop ghouls like Iowa House speaker Pat Grassley (a born-rich nepobaby whose grandpa is Senator Chuck Grassley) from claiming that the cuts were a necessity: “[SNAP is] growing within the budget, and are putting pressure on us being able to fund other priorities.”

Grassley’s caucus passed legislation on Jan 30 to kick people off of SNAP if their combined assets, including their work vehicle, total to more than $15,000. SNAP recipients will be subject to invasive means-testing and verification, which will raise the cost of administering SNAP from $2.2m to $18m. Anyone who gets flagged by the system has 10 days to respond or they’ll be kicked off of SNAP.

The state GOP justifies this by claiming that SNAP has an “error rate” of 11.81%. But that “error rate” includes people who were kicked off SNAP erroneously, a circumstance that is much more common than fraud, which is almost nonexistent in SNAP programs. Iowa’s error rate is in line with the national average.

Iowa’s pro-starvation law was authored by a conservative dark-money “think tank” based in Florida: the Opportunity Solutions Project, the lobbying arm of Foundation For Government Accountability, run by Tarren Bragdon, a Maine politician with a knack for getting money from the Koch Network and the DeVos family for projects that punish, humiliate and kill marginalized people. The Iowa bill mirrors provisions passed in Kentucky, Kansas, Wisconsin and elsewhere — and goes beyond them.

The law was wildly unpopular, but it passed anyway. It’s part of the GOP’s push for massive increases in government spending and bureaucracy — but only when those increases go to punishing poor people, policing poor people, jailing poor people, and spying on poor people. It’s truly amazing that the “party of small government” would increase bureaucratic spending to administer SNAP by 800% — and do it with a straight face.

In his essay “The Utopia of Rules,” David Graeber (Rest in Power) described this pathology: just a couple decades ago, the right told us that our biggest threat was Soviet expansion, which would end the “American way of life” and replace it with a dismal world where you spent endless hours filling in pointless forms, endured hunger and substandard housing, and shopped at identical stores that all carried the same goods:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

A society that can’t feed, house and educate its residents is a failed state. America’s inability to do politics without giving corporations a fat and undeserved share is immiserating an ever-larger share of its people. Federally, SNAP is under huge stress, thanks to the “public-private partnership” at the root of a badly needed “digital overhaul” of the program.

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein describes how the USDA changed SNAP rules to let people pay with SNAP for groceries ordered online, as a way to deal with the growing problem of food deserts in poor and rural communities:

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-19-retail-surveils-food-stamp-users/

It’s a good idea — in theory. But it was sabotaged from the start: first, the proposed rule was altered to ban paying for delivery costs with SNAP, meaning that anyone who ordered food online would have to use scarce cash reserves to pay delivery fees. Then, the USDA declined to negotiate discounts on behalf of the 40 million SNAP users. Finally, the SNAP ecommerce rules don’t include any privacy protections, which will be a bonanza for shadowy data-brokers, who’ll mine SNAP recipients’ data to create marketing lists for scammers, predatory lenders, and other bottom-feeder:

https://www.democraticmedia.org/sites/default/files/field/public-files/2020/cdd_snap_report_ff.pdf

The GOP’s best weapon in this war is statistical illiteracy. While racist, sexist and queerphobic policies mean that marginalized people are more likely than white people to be poor, America’s large population of white people — including elderly white people who are the immovable core of the GOP base — means that policies that target poor people inevitably inflict vast harms on the GOP’s most devoted followers.

Getting these turkeys to vote for Christmas is a sound investment for the ultra-rich, who claim a larger share of the American pie every year. The rich may or may not be racist, or sexist, or queerphobic — some of them surely are — but the reason they pour money into campaigns to stoke divisions among working people isn’t because they get off on hatred. The hatred is a tactic. The cruelty is a tactic. The strategic goal is wealth and power.

Tomorrow (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: The Iowa state-house. On the right side of the steps is an engraved drawing of Oliver Twist, holding out his porridge bowl. On the left side is the cook, denying him an extra portion. Peeking out from behind the dome is a business-man in a suit with a dollar-sign-emblazoned money-bag for a head.]

Image: Iqkotze (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iowa_State_Capitol_April_2010.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

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