#please do let me know what y'all think

[theseuscloud]

Okay, okay, stay with me for a moment, I know everyone is going insane but listen to me for a bit, let's focus on the statement, BECAUSE

You know how Jonny said that the entities on tmagp won't be the same as the ones from TMA, right? Right.

We've got one already mostly figured out, being the one from ep 11, looking like the buried mixed with the vast. Fear of the sea, drowning, etc, thalassophobia in general and all that. People have started to call it The Deep, you remember right? Of course you do, you're a smart cookie, good job

There's also the one related with luck, gambles, and addiction. This one's a bit more fuzzy, but episodes 7 and 13, the dice man and the cryptobro, do paint a funny picture. I haven't seen anyone name this one, so I might as well call it The Chance

Stay with me here, darling

I present to you, and I think I may be onto something:

The Superior

Look, The name is a work in progress, maybe you could call it *the ideal*? if you've got a better suggestion, go ahead, but if not, let me explain

Related to the stranger, maybe the flesh or the lonely. We've already had two statements, ep 2 and now ep 17, where the horror has been something that looks like you, but is better than you.

Episode 2, the girl, Daria, hated how she looked, she tried everything to look better, to be better, she tried so hard she was, quite literally, consumed by it. She picked out parts of herself in a Dorian-Gray-esque way until there was nothing left just to live up to this ideal of herself. The ideal was the cause of her demise

Episode 17, doppelganger time baby! What does he find? A man, just like himself, just... Well, better. Rich, beautiful, cheery and welcoming. Well, an ideal self, wouldn't you say? He tried to learn from that ideal self, and then he found out, that the ideal of him was a murderer. Then he murdered him. Isn't that convenient.

This is just a theory, but it is a fun one, so what do y'all think?

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[fishofthewoods]

Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

[pushing500]

Mechi is still a bit upset about what he thinks is the death of his sister, but Kwahu is not to be deterred from his cheering-up efforts.

Only two columns, and he becomes a knight?? Sign him up!

Mechi's curiosity eventually drives him to leave the comfortable nest of grief to study the nociosphere, and he makes a good bit of progress. Perhaps we can use this sphere of pain to acquire a second chip from the war queen...?

Is it weird to make our android a mech hacker? Is that the android equivalent to a surgeon, a hypnotist, or, like... a mind-control-you-to-explode wizard?

As a gift for our new Mechanoid Mastermind, Alistair gets his own private room. He has some nice furniture, a mirror, a radio, and a lovely view of the cucumber patch out back. Ivy even decided to give him one of her teddy bears! I'm sure Alistair will name it when he awakens.

Kwahu built four columns in the thone room (two for each twin) and now The Empire wants to make Mechi a knight as well!! He's... not in the mood to be excited about it right now. If only we had something to distract him...

... Yeah, that might do it. We could even test out the nociosphere, maybe!

What do you say, hm?

First | Next | Previous

[moongothic]

...I... I do not know what on earth compelled me to make this nor why, but I will not be taking criticism at this time

[gamergirl929]

The Second Our Eyes Met (I Knew I Wanted You) (Christen Press x Reader)

When Christen Press caught your eyes across the party, she felt an immediate spark, what she didn't expect was to be pinned between you and the bathroom door soon after, her lips slamming against yours.

Anonymous Request: G!P reader x christen press, they hook up in the bathroom at a party, reader has christen stare at herself in the mirror.

Anonymous Request: How about a ‘you can’t get enough of me huh? ;) ’ prompt for the g!p smut you were talking about?

Disclaimer: First of all, this fic is 100% NSFW, so if that isn't your thing, I'd DEFINITELY skip this one considering it's basically porn without plot. Also, this a g!p reader fic, so also avoid if that isn't your thing. Other than that, please enjoy and let me know what you think.

Her eyes had been on you all night, green orbs boring into you from across the room.  

Typically, you would have approached her without a second thought, but something about her made her seem unapproachable.  

Maybe it was the women around her?  

Maybe it was the fact that this event was meant to be formal, and making a pass at a random woman would most likely be frowned upon by the others around you? 

However, the more you caught her gaze, the more you found yourself not caring.  

You eye her intently, drinking her in your eyes raking down her body, from her green orbs, down her chest, to her muscular calves, until you eventually settle on her high heels.  

You didn’t know who she was, you didn’t care in all honesty.  

You wanted her, and you wanted her bad, the thought of her fluttering around you as you were buried deep inside her made the appendage between your legs begin to stir. 

You clear your throat, downing the last of your glass of whiskey before heading to the open bar, intent on getting another, knowing full well that this was going to be a long night. 

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

Christen Press didn’t know your name, she knew nothing about you, but she wanted you, wanted you beyond belief, something she’d never experienced with anyone.  

Anytime she’d glance your way, she’d find your eyes already on her, the thought of you staring at her making her core flutter.  

She’d never felt outright lust for anyone, at all, but currently gazing across the room, she felt a strong desire to drag you into an adjacent room and have her way with you, eager to ride the appendage between your legs, something revealed by the noticeable bulge in your pants.  

Your throat visibly bobs as you catch her looking at said bulge, shifting to hide it from view, but now that she’d noticed it, she couldn’t help but stare.  

The more she stared, the more you wanted her, the more you wanted to drag her into a secluded room and use the very thing she’d been staring at most of the night.  

You sip your whiskey, your throat bobbing as you reluctantly turn away from the woman, brainstorming on how you might get her alone, hoping that the looks she’d been giving you all night meant she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.  

You move to your feet, leaving your empty tumbler behind before you make your way towards where you know the restroom is located, hopeful that she won’t be far behind.

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

Christen watches as you make your way out of the room, eager to follow behind you, but she knew she had to make an excuse so her teammates wouldn’t come looking for her.  

“Can you hold this?” She whispers to Alex Morgan who takes her drink, one of her perfect brows arched in question.  

“Restroom.” Christen says simply before making her way out of the room, confident she’d be able to track you down and act on the desire she was feeling, a thrum of excitement pulsing between her legs.  

It doesn’t take her long to find the restroom, and when she does, she sees you leaning against the bathroom counter, your eyes darting to her reflection in the full-length mirror covering one of the bathroom’s walls.  

“That didn’t take long.” You say suggestively, her breath hitching as you back her up against the ornate door behind her, twisting the lock to avoid any unwanted interruptions.  

With no prompting, she grabs the front of your suit jacket and pulls you in, her lips slamming against yours.  

You pick her up with ease, carrying her to the sink before placing her on the counter, your tongue sliding into her open mouth, earning a breathy moan from the woman whose name you didn’t even know.  

Your hands run down her body before settling on her waist, squeezing her sides as the two of you kiss feverishly.  

A beat passes before your jacket is shoved off and your dress shirt is unbuttoned, falling to the bathroom floor, leaving you in nothing but your bra.  

Her lips leave yours before finding your pulse point, her tongue running up the column of your neck before sucking a bruise into your tanned skin.  

You wrap your fingers around the top of her dress, the brunette pulling back slightly to whisper.  

“Careful.” She says as she pants heavily, a smirk stretching across your face.  

“Can’t have your friends knowing you came in here to fuck a complete stranger?” You grin cockily, the woman gasping when your hand slides up the hem of her dress, your palm resting on her mound, her panties already soaked through.  

In any other situation, she’d be embarrassed at how wet she was, but in this moment, all embarrassment flew out the window, she wanted one thing, and that was to orgasm, an orgasm she wanted you to give her.  

“God, you’re soaked for me, aren’t you?” You rasp in her ear, the brunette unable to bite back a moan when you grab her panties, tearing them from her body, the shredded garment falling to the floor.  

“Now that, that’s out of the way.” You growl before your fingers slide through her wet lips, the woman moaning when your fingertips brush her clit.  

“Right there?” You ask, her lips leaving your neck as you draw small, lazy circles against her clit. 

“Faster.” She begs, and you chuckle.  

“Like this?” You ask, the brunette using your shoulder to muffle her cry as you begin drawing rapid, relentless circles against her clit.  

“You like that?” You whisper, earning a rapid nod when you flatten your palm against her, your fingertips teasing her entrance.  

A sudden knock on the door makes you stiffen, your eyes widening as they lock with the woman’s who’s resting on the counter in front of you.  

“Christen? Are you in there?” A voice sounds from the other side, and you snigger, using one hand to drag her dress downwards to reveal her breasts.  

Christen muffles her cries into your shoulder as you cup her breast, your thumb brushing against erect nipple. 

“Ye-Yeah, I’m alright.” She pauses mid-sentence, gasping when your lips wrap around one of the dark buds.  

“J-J-Just...” She pauses, her face scrunching up as your hand travels south again, your fingers again finding her clit. 

Her mouth hangs wide open as you circle her clit before dipping a finger inside her, her inner walls fluttering around the digit.  

“Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?” The voice asks, the woman in your arms doing everything she can to remain quiet as you slip another finger inside her, your fingers curling as they brush against the spot inside her that makes her whimper.   

“No! I’m okay, I’ll-I’ll be out in a few minutes.” She gasps, her hands now resting on your back, her nails digging into your skin.  

“Okay, well if you need me, just call me, okay?” They say as your fingers slide in and out of her tight heat. 

“I will.”  

Moments later, footsteps carry the person away from the door, the woman in your arms growling as she hastily undoes your belt.  

“Eager?” You tease, Christen moaning as your fingers pound repeatedly into her.  

“I want your cock, not your fingers.” She growls, shoving your pants off, the article of clothing falling in a heap around your ankles before you step out of them and kick them across the bathroom floor.  

You groan, your fingers stilling when she palms you through your boxers, a raspy growl rumbling in your throat as your lips again meet hers, your tongue sliding into her open mouth.  

Her legs wrap around your middle as you pull her closer, her core resting against your stomach as you kiss hungrily. 

She gives her hips a roll, groaning as her clit grinds against your abdomen, the woman wanting to be wrapped entirely around you, to have you deep inside her reaching places your fingers couldn’t.  

She makes her intentions known when she uses her heels to hook into your boxers and drag them down your body, your erection springing free.  

“You want my cock that bad, huh Christen?” You ask, your lips brushing as you whisper, your hand settling on the erect rod between your legs.  

You pump it softly, groaning into her mouth as you line yourself up with her entrance.  

“Are you ready?” You ask, running your tip through her soaked lips, her core latching onto you with each pass.  

Wordlessly, she wraps her legs back around you, pulling you into her, the action making your brows furrow in pleasure as you push yourself up on your tip toes, now fully sheathed inside her. 

“Yeahhh.” You moan as she adjusts to the stretch, her core fluttering around you.  

You give your hips an experimental thrust upwards, Christen’s breath hitching her nails digging into your back as you start a rhythm.  

Your thighs slap together softly, but neither of you care, the two of you overcome with pleasure.  

“Faster.” She sighs, your hips snapping upward roughly, causing her to bite your neck to stop herself from crying out.  

You pound into her relentlessly, her mouth hanging wide open, her brows furrowed.  

She lets out a gasp when you lift her into the air and place her against a nearby wall, her legs wrapped tightly around you as you again start thrusting into her, burying yourself deep inside her.  

“Look at yourself, Christen.” You whisper in her ear, your tongue running along the shell of her ear.  

Christen’s unable to stop herself from moaning when her eyes lock with her own in the mirror, the woman watching as you thrust rapidly into her, bringing her a sense of pleasure she never felt before. 

The thrill of being caught only heightened that pleasure, the fact that a few rooms away was filled with people who could catch the two of you at any moment.  

“Look how bad you want me; you can’t get enough of me can you? You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” You ask, pounding into her, her breath catching in her throat.  

It’s when her breath starts to hitch rapidly that you know she's close, the tingling at the base of your cock telling you that you won’t be far behind.  

“You want to come baby?” You ask, Christen nodding as she begins slamming down onto your roughly, chasing her release which you know isn’t far off.  

Her walls flutter rapidly around you, before she goes stiff in your hold.  

She slams her lips against yours, allowing you to swallow her cries as she comes undone, trembling violently in your arms. 

You groan into her open mouth, still thrusting hard as your thighs begin to quake, streams of your seed spewing into her as you shudder, burying your face in her neck as you groan.  

It isn’t long before the two of you still, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both panting loudly as you pull away from one another, before surging back in for one more heated kiss.  

You pull back slowly, placing her on the floor, letting her steady herself before you step backwards and retrieve your boxers, pulling them up over your near flaccid cock.  

Christen pulls her dress upward, covering her breasts before flattening it out, ridding it of any creases, of any signs that something may have happened in the restroom.  

She glances across the bathroom, watching as you button your dress shirt before tugging your jacket on. 

Much to her surprise, you make your way back towards her, guiding her back into the wall before your hand slides up the hem of her dress, Christen gasping when you start drawing wild, sloppy circles against her clit.  

It isn’t long before her back is arching, and she’s coming for a second time, a lengthy whine sounding into your shoulder.  

You smirk, teasingly circling her clit before she grabs your wrist, unable to take more of your teasing caresses.  

You lick your lips, your eyes running down her front before the smirk you're wearing splits into a cocky grin.

“Sorry, i just had to see that face again." You smile, eyeing her intently before you take a step back.

"See you around Chris.” You wink, adjusting your outfit before making your way out of the bathroom, still wearing that same smug smile.  

Christen pants heavily against the bathroom wall, her pleasure entirely sated.  

She makes herself look more presentable before making her way out of the bathroom, her teammates turning her way in confusion.  

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, sipping her wine as she eyes her fellow forward worriedly.  

“Ye-Yeah.” Christen clears her throat, her green orbs darting around the room before settling on you, a tumbler of whiskey in your hand, which you raise to her before downing it with a grin.  

“I’m great actually.” She smirks, taking her wine glass from Alex’s hand and taking a sip, her green orbs locking with your Y/E/C’s as she licks her lips.  

You shoot her a wink, unbeknownst to the women around her before turning back to your tumbler of whiskey, sipping the amber colored liquid, elated that you’d came to this party in the first place.  

[catcorsair]

Like Pulling Teeth: a novel of the Phantom of the Opera

Read on A03 - link in comments

18+/ Very Explicit / EC, EOC, E++/50K

Pre to post-Leroux canon. General tags: Gothic, Horror, Drama, Romance, Historical Fiction.

Please Comment / Review:)

(I am literally obsessed with you all! I have the BEST readers - bless every one of you!!)

[ismyteadoneyet]

.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Melatonin

A FluffyNight drabble to celebrate reaching 50 followers on this account. It's pretty short & not beta read, but I think it's alright for being written in one sitting. Happy reading!

Beep! Beep! Beep! The sound of Ccino's alarm forced him awake, pulling him out of the pleasant dreams he had been having. Even now, Ccino could feel them slipping from his skull, leaving him wondering what exactly he had been dreaming about.

The continued beeping of his alarm pulled him from his thoughts & Ccino groaned, pushing his face into his pillow. Blindly reaching for it, Ccino attempted to turn it off without looking, knocking his hand against the other things on the nightstand before finally managing to push the button to silence it.

Blissful quiet filled the room as Ccino felt Nightmare shift next to him. Arms wrapped around him & pulled him close, holding Ccino close to Nightmare. Ccino smiled sleepily, turning on his side so he faced towards the other. He hummed quietly as he observed Nightmare looking back at him with a lidded socket, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Whispering so as to not ruin the atmosphere, Ccino questioned worriedly. Nightmare shook his head & moved slowly, readjusting them both until they were situated comfortably against each other.

Ccino smiled wider & closed his sockets, holding the other in his arms. Together in each other's arms, they both quietly drifted back to sleep.

Bonus scene!

A shrill beeping jolted them both back awake, causing Ccino to jump in Nightmare's arms. Grumbling to himself, he slowly sat up & reached over to the alarm, shutting it off.

Sitting up properly, Ccino stretched his arms above his head & groaned as he heard his joints pop, rubbing the bottom of his sockets with one hand. Picking up his phone & turning it on, his sockets widened in shock as he let out a loud, "Shoot!"

Scrambling & throwing the blanket off of himself, Ccino barely noticed as Nightmare sat up in alarm. "Is everything alright?" Ccino stammered out a reply, mild panic in his voice as he began changing out of his pajamas.

"Everything's fine! We just overslept a bit!" Relaxing slightly, Nightmare observed as Ccino got ready for the day, rushing around quickly so he wouldn't be later than he already was. If he concentrated, he could swear that he heard the meows of hungry cats impatiently calling for their breakfast.

Hastily walking over to Nightmare, having gotten dressed quickly, Ccino leaned over & placed a chaste kiss against his lovers cheek, smiling. "Love you, see you later!" With that he exited the room, leaving Nightmare sitting alone on the bed with only a warm imprint of where Ccino laid as company.

[r0semultiverse]

My take on the whole World War 3 WWIII WW3 whatever you wanna call it

This is a very simple look at why you won't die in a new World War (if it even happens) and a simple point of view responding to it. There are far better educated people to speak on this more thoroughly if you feel like researching and looking for that.

[margindoodles2407]

i. wow. i am. so lonely

[stargirlygirl]

you're quiet during it

lads li's (except for raf; separate) x fem!reader

contains: nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, p-in-v, oral sex (f!receiving), p-link for xavier

⭑.ᐟ caleb

at first, it would throw caleb off guard, being the louder one when y'all are devil's tangoing. but it's no issue.

he learns your audial cues: when your breath hitches as you're about to cum, the little mewls that tell him he's doing a good job, and your sweet "more, caleb!" whimpers.

he's also attentive to your physical cues: your back arching as he messily eats you out, so close to an orgasm it's almost painful; your hands tugging on his silky locks when his tongue is lapping your folds; and how your thighs tense up and shake when you're finally swept away by a riptide of pleasure.

and caleb takes pride in hearing how loud he can make you. of course, it's only after an hour or so of overstimulation that you're more talkative and noisy.

he's fucking obsessed with how you cry out, "please, caleb! i can't. n-no more." chuckling against your slick cunt, the lower half of his face drenched in your release, he'll gaze up at you with hazy sunset eyes.

"c'mon, honey. just one more?" he coos so sweetly, rubbing your thigh and all. and when you do give him that one more, you're absolutely silent, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you writhe beneath him. the ecstasy is far too overwhelming for a sound to be made.

when he sucks on your clit harshly, that's when you nearly scream; exactly what he's been waiting so patiently for.

⭑.ᐟ sylus

sylus finds your hushed moans endearing.

i think he definitely teases you when he's eating you out, something akin to, "you're so quiet, kitten. doesn't this feel good?" but he knows you're in actual heaven right now.

when he's on top, thrusting into you so tenderly, i know sylus is groaning and panting in your ear the sweetest things. "you're biting your lip so hard, sweetie. careful—" he pulls your lip out from your chompers with his thumb, "or you'll draw blood."

especially when you're cockwarming him and whimpering softly in his ear, it makes him all the more harder. he'll throb inside of your snug walls, pre-cum leaking everywhere as he rubs your back and murmurs, "don't runaway, kitten, when you're taking me so well."

like caleb, he's got your sounds memorised. but unlike caleb, i don't think sylus pushes you to the edge. i think he'll stop as soon as you yawn, god forbid you do so as he's still rutting into you.

your bf will pull you into a warm cuddle and let you rest for as long as you need. he praises you half-lovingly, half-mockingly, until it's time to get cleaned up.

⭑.ᐟ zayne

i'm imagining this princess and the pauper "you're just like me, i'm just like you" moment between you and zayne the first time you had sex (whether that be oral, penetrative, mutual touching, etc).

because he's... somewhat controlled in the sound domain, he understands that your lack of loud sounds isn't because his performance is lacking (though he needed reassurance initially), but because that's how you are. he's never commented on it or teased you for it. zayne simply relies on consistent communication to ensure you're enjoying what he's doing.

let's say you two have a rare day off and spend the morning in bed. waking up, you're exchanging gentle kisses, which quickly become heated. but since you're both sleepy, it's this lazy kind of lust.

he's in between your thighs, taking you to the far reaches of the universe when he pulls off your swollen clit and asks breathily, "does this feel good?" releasing a low whimper, you nod and push his face back into your pussy.

you can feel his micro-smirk as he eats you out till you're trembling and softly mewling, your thighs clamped around his head.

and when you're spooning, it's tender and slow, zayne sliding every inch in before drawing back. you're wrapped in his warm embrace, panting a little. your bf let's out this cracked whimper as you squeeze around him, close to his end already.

he rasps out, "it's been so long since we've done this." you hum in response, your grip on his scarred forearms tightening before you see the stars together.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

like sylus, xavier finds it cute. with how tough you try to act all the time, it inflates his ego when you're a quiet, shaking mess beneath him.

he likes how your body does the talking. no words are necessary when you're rolling your hips up to his, hands pawing at his trousers in an attempt to take them off.

he'll tease you, "you really did miss me, huh?" but he delivers it in his soft voice.

and you, too needy to register that he's having a go at you, will just nod and whimper a small, "please."

i can't help but think of this p-link.

xav definitely mocks you during sex, asking you in his low commanding voice to be louder and to tell him how good he's making you feel, how much you need him, to tell him anything because he wants to hear your voice. specifically, he wants to hear it break as you try to speak.

and he only grows more demanding as his climax approaches. his sweet pants and moans tangle with yours as you grip his shoulders. holding onto them for dear life, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as he buries himself so deep and cums inside.

masterlist

star girl's final words: sorry if this is rats ass. just something that's been on my mind, which i wanted to get out.

[h1biscusgal]

I fucking entered the void.

Long post ahead!

@premiumbitch I owe u every shit wtf, your method was INSANE?

REMEMBER HOW I TOLD Y'ALL IMMA BE ENTERING THE VOID ON MY BIRTHDAY???? I did it, and guys it's literally the easiest shit idk why some people see it as smth big 💀

I didn't manifest anything, why? Because guess it or not I actually just wanted to be familiar with it, I love how I'm slowly knowing everything is mine, and yesterday I didn't want to manifest anything I just wanted to try the void out especially bc I have been studying sm these days, I wanted a break.

Now I've been eating up that mindset that I'm a master at the void, which let's be obvious, everyone is, they just need to get to the point and slowly realize it, it has to click.

Okay I'm going to stop yapping and fucking get into it 👍🏻, either way, yesterday night, at 1:32 AM or smth, after the day turned 6th April, I got in bed and made myself comfortable, and simply told myself I'll enter the void under 5 minutes, which actually and unsurprisingly, it was the case, I used a standard boring ass method too yk, the one where it's usually always what people do.

On my back, started slow breathing, and i set the intention of keeping myself awake when my body sleeps (best advice I got from idk who it helps sm) and then I let myself sink in the bed for some minutes, like I just laid there, and already I immediately was in the SATs.

So naturally I affirmed for the void, knowing I'm already in there, and mf I slipped in there after two or three minutes of affirming, just saying "I am the void." Or "I am in the void."

I think the reason I actually got out myself or sometimes used to slip in and back, is how I immediately focused on my body signs or anything connected me to myself, so I have a note to myself next time, to allow it naturally happen and focus just on the blackness behind my eyes.

ANYWAYS I STAYED THERE FOR LIKE I THOUGHT 2 OR 3 MINUTES BUT IT WAS A WHOLE WHOPPING 1 HOUR TF, and get that, how did I know it's the void? I just wanted to see stars there and I fucking did 🎀

IMMA GO CRY I FINALLY AM THE CREATER OF MY OWN REALITY.

anyone reading this, babes please don't give up, genuinely don't, I've been in this game for 6 years and I know a lot of people that'll leave for this long, saying they have no patience, girly you can do it if I did, I used to be in SUCH a bad place you can't even imagine, I pulled my shit and started living in the end for 2 months (and no it doesn't take two months, I just was stubborn af and kept slipping in and out my beliefs).

Special thanks to them for keeping my motivation up 💗

@joc3lynn @catherineaboutlife @salemlunaa @premiumbitch @prettygirl444sblog @mercifulstate @shimmershifts @littlemissprettyprincess @luckykiwiii101 @carlyshifts111 (I adore her oml her RAS thing? ATE the fuck up)

And of course can't forget @gorgeouslypink but idk if she's here anymore? And every old blog back in the 2022 and 2020, I adore y'all sm even though I don't have your blog's names 😔🎀.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Can I see your d*ck? (drabble)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

synopsis: you're lounging on your bed with your best friend peacefully until an intrusive thought wins over.

wc: 1.0k

warnings: lots of dirty talk, making out, fingering

a/n: idk what this is, i feel unhinged and not inspired to write today so this might suck but thanks @jazz-the-writer 😏💜 (side not: y'all his hands might be small by some standard that i'm not aware of but to me they're big cause i am small and that is hot, mkay)

Your best friend is leaning on your pillow looking all pretty and alluring and you can't help your thoughts.

Or your mouth.

"Can I see your dick?" it rolls off your tongue kind of accidentally. Felix coughs, choking on air as he looks up from his phone.

"Excuse me?" he looks at you in disbelief and your cheeks warm up.

"Your dick. I want to see it."

You can't really back out now.

"Um... you can't just ask stuff like that?" his eyebrow is raised, but his cheeks become rosy too.

"Why not? Do I need to get you drunk first?" you smirk.

"N-no, just... Why would you ask that?" he chuckles nervously.

"Well, I've never seen one. Not in real life, at least." you say and he smirks suddenly.

"Where else have you seen a dick?" he sits up and so do you.

"Porn, duh." you roll your eyes.

"What kind of porn?" he leans in closer and you whine, rolling your eyes again.

"Don't change the subject! Will you let me see it?"

"No, I will not show you my dick, y/n. Be for real." he laughs, shoving you playfully.

"You're totally not fun." you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Felix smirks to himself as he looks away from you. His heart hammers against his ribs as he bites on his lip and considers teasing you.

"How about this?" he turns around to look at you again. "I wanna see yours too."

"Hate to disappoint you Lixie but I don't have a dick." you joke and his face becomes as red as a tomato.

"I meant your... you know." he looks away.

"My what? Say it." you lean in closer and he visibly shivers.

"Y-your... pussy?" he whispers and you laugh.

"Okay." you shrug and he gasps, thinking you'd surely back out after that request.

"You're for real?" he gulps.

"Mhm." you nod, your heart skipping a beat in excitement but Felix struggles.

"I mean... it's not... it's not hard yet, you know."

"Can I help with that?" you inch closer to your best friend. And god, he is so beautiful.

"We could make out?" he suggests and you agree immediately because who wouldn't want to kiss those lips?

The world stops as you lean in, the sounds of your breathing seem so loud in the tiny gap between you and Felix. The gap is soon closed as your lips press together in a sweet, awkward kiss.

The kiss slowly escalates into something more desperate and raw, as your hands start wandering on each other's bodies. Somehow, you end up under him as he keeps kissing your face and neck.

"Your hands are so pretty." you say breathlessly as you play with Felix's hand.

"They are?" he asks, a little surprised at your compliment.

"Mhm. And your fingers are perfect." you bring his hand closer to your face, his fingertips on your lips. Felix gasps when your tongue darts out to lick at his fingertips.

"Y/n..." his voice breaks as you take his middle finger in and start sucking on it.

"Fuck." Felix curses, his eyes darkening as he observes you. You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh and you clench around nothing.

"Please, touch me Lixie." you whine when you take his finger out of your mouth.

"Where, sweetheart?" he smirks at your eagerness and you nearly combust at the nickname.

Instead of answering, you start pulling your pants down and he quickly stops you.

"Are you sure?" he asks in the last moment of clarity.

"Yes." you say and he nods, helping you get rid of your pants and underwear.

"Oh." he licks his lips at the sight of you all wet and desperate for him.

"Please." you whine and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

"I got you, baby." he soothes you as his hands run up your thighs a few times, coming up to spread your pussy so he can take a good look at it.

You whimper, shutting your eyes tight. Felix chuckles again, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit in circles.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as they meet his darkened ones.

"If you've never seen a dick, that must mean you're a virgin?" Felix asks quietly.

"N-no... Well, yes. I mean I did this before but never went further." you confess and he smirks.

His fingers dip between your folds, gathering your arousal before paying attention to your clit again as he speeds up, making you whimper.

"W-why are you smirking like that?" you moan out as he flicks your clit, driving you absolutely insane already.

"I know you wanna see my dick. But I wanna make sure this little pussy can take my fingers first."

"Felix!" you whine at the dirty talk, the effect of his words amplified by his deep voice and the movement on your clit.

If you weren't at his mercy you'd probably laugh at your best friend for talking like that.

"Yeah baby? You want that?"

"P-please!" you're falling apart, your pussy clenching around nothing again.

"As you wish." Felix whispers and slowly starts pushing his middle finger in.

"L-Lixie." you moan, grabbing at his wrist as he fills you up.

"You're so tight, sweetheart. I don't think you'll be seeing my dick so soon."

"N-no, please, I wanna see it!" you cry out as he pushes in completely, slowly fucking you with his finger.

"If you manage to take three of my fingers, maybe I'll let you." he leans down to whisper in your ear, making you whine.

"You're mean." you pout, knowing damn well you're nowhere near ready to take him.

"I'm just looking out for you." he keeps smirking as he starts pumping his finger faster, making you more wet with every thrust.

You want to smack him for being so sly but his thumb starts working on your clit and you completely fall apart, moaning his name and gripping at the sheets as Felix brings you to ecstasy easily.

"Only one finger got you falling apart like this, hm?" he mocks as he fucks you through your high.

"You wanna see what two get me like?" you smirk at him and he laughs a little.

"I hope you know what you got yourself into, sweetheart."

~ part 2

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts

[gamebunny-advance]

*Sigh*

It's time for my bi-annual post asking where these new TPS fans are coming from.

There's a lot more of them than usual popping up from this year and late last year. Has that show hit the "nostalgia zone" or are younger people actually getting into it? If it's the latter, how and why are people learning about it now?

Tbh, the answers to those questions don't matter to me. I just wanna give my personal stance on it for the time being:

I’m not interested in the show at all right now. I'm probably not gonna draw it, or talk about it again except in reference to stuff like this happening. If you're following me with the hope that I'll somehow get into it again, then you're gonna be disappointed. (But, thank you if you decide to stay for my other nonsense. I don't mind if that was how you found me, and you're staying for other things, but don't feel obligated to stay for content I'm not making anymore).

I'm never gonna update the wiki no matter how many of you like that post now, and I'm gonna delete it now so I stop seeing the notes on it. Y'all seem to be strong enough to do that on your own anyway. Even if I wanted to, I can't remember the trivia that I used to know except in broad strokes, and I certainly can't source them anymore, which is a bad look for any wiki.

Look, I will never be able to fully separate myself from that fandom because I was in it for so long. Being a part of it was an essential part of my growth as an artist, so it's always gonna be a part of me. I'll probably still reference it from time to time, but it's not something I have an interest in going back to. My tastes have changed significantly, and it just doesn't have anything to offer the "me" of today. As such, I don't have anything to offer it either.

[witchywithwhiskey]

a king and his queen

pairing: mafia boss!bucky barnes x mafia princess!female reader

summary: you're still acclimating to life as the wife of the bratva's white wolf, and when your husband buys you some lingerie, it becomes an unexpected tipping point in your relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), arranged marriage, reader demonstrates trauma responses and has anxiety from past familial verbal abuse (not explicitly shown, just implied), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, dry sex, possessive sex, mirror sex, creampie, bdsm dynamics (gentle dom Bucky Barnes, talk of punishments, consent checks/reassurances), choking, biting, roughness, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (moya zhena - my wife, moya koroleva - my queen, baby), aftercare, lots of feelings, some angst, some fluff, happy ending

word count: 6.3k

a/n: for week 7 of @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event, y'all voted for me to use the optional prompt of lingerie—and i'm quite happy with how this one turned out! it's a bit...darker and more different in some ways than most of my fics, but it was cathartic to write. there's more build-up to the sex in this fic because the dynamic between these two was so important to establish, but i enjoyed it, so i hope y'all do too! please make sure to read the warnings! enjoy ♡

prompt: “Put this on.” | [Blindfolds | Lingerie | Gag/Collars]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

“Put this on.”

The order pulled your attention from the mirror of your vanity, where you were putting the final touches on your jewelry for the evening. Your makeup was already done, all that was left was to get dressed.

And it seemed your new husband, the notorious head of the Russian mafia in New York City, the feared White Wolf—James “Bucky” Barnes—had opinions on what exactly you’d wear to your cousin’s birthday party. 

You’d tensed at his sudden appearance in your bedroom and, immediately, you tried to parse his tone to determine whether he was angry with you—or frustrated, or irritated, or annoyed, or anything else that might mean you were in for trouble.

It was a habit you’d formed while growing up in your father’s household, where quickly figuring out a man’s tone could be the difference between escape and something much worse. The habit had become so ingrained, you hardly recognized yourself doing it anymore. 

But like every other time Bucky had issued a command for you, you couldn’t quite read his tone. 

Your husband’s voice when he spoke to you wasn’t overly warm, but it wasn’t cold either. He sounded like a man used to people doing what he said, so much so that he was almost…bored of it. 

You didn’t know exactly what that meant, but you’d long ago learned that if a man in the mafia gave you an order, you followed it as fast as possible.

So while you were thinking all this through, you’d grabbed the luxurious paper bag your husband had held out to you and headed toward your walk-in closet. The dress you’d chosen for the party was already hanging up, ready for you to put on, but you’d wear whatever Bucky told you to wear.

It was your job, after all, to keep the peace between your family and Bucky’s Bratva. It was the whole point of your marriage to the White Wolf—and part of keeping that peace meant your husband would accompany you to parties hosted by your father, like the celebration that evening. 

Scurrying inside the closet with the bag, you paused and marveled all over again at the sheer size of the room. 

Like everything else in Bucky’s home, it was opulent and gorgeous, with clean white surfaces and dark brown wooden accents. There were multiple full-length mirrors and, alongside the racks and shelves holding your clothes and shoes, the space was big enough to fit a few ottomans, chairs and benches, all upholstered with the same sumptuous pink velvet. 

Before you could turn and close the door, Bucky’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“Let me see how it looks before you put your dress on.”

You’d assumed the garment he’d given you was a dress, so his words sent a little tremble down your spine when you realized they meant something else was in the bag. Still, you gave your husband a quick nod over your shoulder and shut the door to your closet.

Despite the trepidation you felt, your curiosity was piqued, and you peered into the bag. Under layers of soft tissue paper, you discovered something silky, lacy and beautiful. 

Heat filled your cheeks as you pulled out the expensive lingerie and held it carefully in your hands. The matching set was exquisite, and nicer than anything you’d owned in your entire life—which was saying something since you’d never wanted for anything.

Excited to wear something so beautiful, you put it on quickly. Once done, you had to stop and stare at yourself in one of the full-length mirrors. 

The warm recessed lighting in the closet shone on your body, giving you a perfect view of everywhere the lingerie clung to your skin. The silk and lace hugged your curves lovingly, like the garment was tailor-made to your body, the color complementing your skin tone perfectly.

It suddenly occurred to you that your husband, the Bratva boss you’d been taught to fear, had hand-picked this lingerie for you. He must’ve even given the seamstress your measurements so that it fit you so well. 

The thought of Bucky going to all that trouble and doing all that for you had warmth blooming in your core, a soft throbbing beginning between your thighs.

Your husband didn’t seem much like the mean, cruel man you’d expected when you married him. On your wedding night, when you’d consummated your marriage, Bucky had been patient, gentle even. Until he’d been unable to help himself, and then he’d fucked you like a man possessed.

But you’d enjoyed seeing the tightly controlled mafia man let loose. It had felt like you’d seen a side to him no one else ever had. And, even more, you’d enjoyed the way he’d made you unravel beneath him. He’d worked your body better than you’d ever thought possible, making you feel unspeakable pleasure.

In fact, in the few weeks since that night, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your husband, about his handsome face and his skillful hands. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that just because you knew him intimately, it didn’t mean you truly knew him. Or that you could trust that he was what he appeared to be—a kinder, gentler mafia boss than you’d ever known. But he kept surprising you.

After your wedding night, Bucky had gifted you your own suite of rooms within his sprawling mansion, and it was there that you slept, in your own space separate from him. Occasionally, he came to you in the darkest hours of the night, asking for your consent before fucking you just as good as that first time. 

But he never fell asleep with you, which felt like a sign that he wanted nothing more than an alliance with your family and an infrequent bedmate. 

Which meant that on the nights he didn’t come to you, you found yourself tossing and turning, forced to pleasure yourself while only the memories of your husband could get you to completion. 

It occurred to you that you could go to him, but that seemed like too much of a risk. To ask your husband for anything meant trusting him with your honesty, and you’d never dare do that. Not when you still didn’t know for certain how he felt about you.

Much of your time in the weeks since your wedding to the White Wolf had been spent trying to puzzle out his feelings for you, all while you’d been keeping your own emotions buried deep in your heart. It felt too dangerous to admit, even to yourself, that you’d grown…fond of your husband. 

But seeing the beautiful lingerie Bucky had chosen meticulously for you had an effect on the impenetrable walls around your heart. It almost felt like something inside you cracked open a tiny bit, and you found yourself rubbing idly at your chest, a warmth blooming beneath your sternum that scared you a little.

With a jolt of awareness, you realized you’d been lingering in your closet longer than you’d meant to, and you checked the time on your phone. Cursing to yourself, you realized you’d taken too long putting on the lingerie. 

If you didn’t get dressed right away, you and Bucky would be late to the party, and that would not be tolerated by your father.

Forgetting the second order your husband gave you, you grabbed the dress you’d set aside for the party and shimmied into it, quickly zipping it up as much as you could as you stepped into a pair of matching high heels. Walking out of the closet, you were still fiddling with the zipper when you came to an abrupt halt at the look on Bucky’s face.

He was standing closer to the door of the closet than you’d expected, and his blue eyes were bright with an unreadable expression as they swept up your body. You skin warmed at the way he took in your calves and the shape of your thighs, then the way your legs disappeared beneath the hem of your dress.

“I gave you an instruction, moya zhena,” Bucky rumbled, in that same indecipherable tone he always seemed to use with you, though you detected something like curiosity in it. “Why did you not follow it?”

Your heart jumped up into your throat as you recognized your error; your first instinct was to cower away from your husband and beg for forgiveness. But when your eyes flitted frantically across his face and down to his shoulders, you were surprised to find he wasn’t angry. 

Bucky was relaxed, his shoulders loose and sloped, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. His expression held no hint of fury at your disobedience, just a quiet interest as he waited for your answer. 

You were so disarmed by Bucky’s reaction, you blurted out the truth.

“We’re going to be late,” you said, and despite your best efforts, you heard a slight waver in your tone. 

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his gaze darting to your mouth for a moment before returning to yours. You couldn’t read his expression, which didn’t do anything to help the anxiety churning in your belly. 

“My father doesn’t tolerate lateness.” As you spoke, you looked toward the door, and shifted your weight from one foot to the other. 

You knew how your father would act if you and Bucky were late—you’d been on the receiving end of his verbal lashings and punishments enough times to know all too well. So you hoped your husband would take the hint and allow you to leave quickly.

A rumbling sound caught your attention, and your racing thoughts came to a halt as you glanced back at Bucky, who was looking decidedly more deadly, even though nothing in his posture had shifted. 

He still looked calm and at ease, and something about it settled you, even as you picked up on his anger. Instinctively, you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

“You no longer live under his command, moya koroleva,” Bucky said, his voice infinitesimally softer than you’d ever heard it. He prowled closer to you, his gait as slow and careful as a predator stalking some exceptionally skittish prey. “You are my wife, and he cannot touch you—he cannot punish you.”

Something in your belly swooped, warmth blooming between your thighs even as your knees trembled. Bucky’s voice held so much self-assuredness, and possessiveness, that you almost believed him. You almost believed you were free of your father’s rule. 

Then Bucky smirked, the curve of his mouth as sharp as the blade of a knife. “That’s my job.”

Horror rushed through you at his words, since it suddenly occurred to you that you might’ve been wrong about your husband. You’d thought him different from your father, but if he was speaking of punishments—of punishing you—then perhaps they were more alike than you’d thought. 

On instinct, you took a step back. 

Bucky went still, this smirk slipping from his face. He was close enough to reach for you, but his hands remained in his pockets. The only movement was the slight tilting of his head as he studied you closely.

“Do you trust me, moya zhena?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. 

You’d thought you might—one day—but in that moment, you didn’t think so. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to your husband and tell him you did. So what you settled on was, “‘No’ feels like the wrong answer.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with humor and the edges of his mouth flickered as if he wanted to smile but was restraining himself. He took another step toward you, this time moving even slower than he had before, as if trying not to scare you. 

Then, he pulled a hand from his pocket, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for you. You let his fingers catch your chin in a firm grip and hold you so that you could nothing but stare into his eyes.

Your husband had beautiful blue eyes, and a handsome face that was typically all sharp edges, though in that moment he seemed somehow gentler. Despite your anxiety, you softened slightly into his grip, something instinctual in your body deciding Bucky wasn’t a threat—at least for the moment.

“The truth is never the wrong answer,” he said, his thumb sweeping just below your lower lip. His eyes darkened as he watched the path it traced against your skin, and you could feel him getting distracted by your mouth. 

But his words had you pressing your lips into a thin line. You couldn’t believe a mafia boss as feared as the Bratva’s White Wolf could be so naive as to think lies weren’t the currency of the world you both lived in, even within families—even within marriages. 

“In my experience, it often is,” you said, choosing your words carefully so you didn’t disrespect your husband and add another infraction to your record for that night. 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed fractionally, and he stared at you so intensely, you wanted to shift uncomfortably on your feet. But you knew your husband well enough to know he’d catch the movement and know what it meant. So you kept your expression blank and held yourself still. You’d had enough practice in your life to hide your reactions well.

Still, somehow you sensed that Bucky could read every thought as it passed through your head and every emotion that swept through your heart. It rattled you more than you cared to admit, even to yourself. 

It was almost a relief when, after a moment of charged silence, Bucky spoke.

“How about this, an addendum to our wedding vows,” he said, his voice calculatingly thoughtful as he watched for your reaction. 

He must’ve liked the way your eyes flicked to his, and must’ve seen the curiosity in your gaze, because he went on. “You may lie to anyone—to everyone else, if you so wish. But never to me.”

You blinked in surprise, trying to process his words, trying to root out their hidden meaning. There must be a trick or a trap, but you couldn’t find one. And Bucky kept talking before you could ask any questions that might help you discern his secret agenda.

“If you promise never to lie to me, I vow that I will never punish you for telling the truth.”

You were quiet for a long moment, absorbing Bucky’s words and looking for the trap in them. It took an embarrassingly long moment for you to realize what was right in front of you—it wasn’t a trick. He was asking you to trust him, and he was offering his trust in return.

Even as the thought occurred to you, though, you shoved it aside, believing it impossible. Bratva men like the White Wolf didn’t offer an equal exchange of trust, they ruled with an iron fist. In your life, you’d seen the fear men wielded, especially over the women in their lives. 

There wasn’t much trust in the mafia. There was dominance and submission, fear and power. Loyalty was taken through the threat of violence, or the threat violence upon someone you cared about. 

So, it was with a desire not to be punished that you agreed to Bucky’s offer. 

“OK,” you said simply, meeting your husband’s gaze. When he raised his eyebrow and tilted his head, silently urging you on, you continued, “I promise never to lie to you, husband.”

Bucky nodded, accepting your answer, though his eyes looked stormy and conflicted. Although you’d given him what he’d asked for, he didn’t seem entirely pleased. 

He stepped back, his hand dropping from your face, and you found you missed the warmth of his touch. You missed the spiciness of his cologne, and the way his presence had wrapped around you like a cloak of comfort. 

Before you could examine those thoughts further, Bucky gripped your shoulder and deftly spun you around on your heels, his big hand falling to the small of your back. He propelled you gently, but firmly, into your walk-in closet, stopping you in front of one of the large ottomans in the center of the room. 

It was plush and circular, with a full-length mirror on the wall on the opposite side of the room. In it, you could see the way you stood with your shoulders huddled, your body dwarfed by the broadness of your husband at your back. 

“Do you care about this dress?” Bucky asked, his hands sliding up your shoulders until his thumbs rested against your spine where the zipper was still partially undone. 

The feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sent tingles of pleasure skittering down your spine, and it took all your self-control not to shiver under the delightful weight of your husband’s hands. 

“I—” 

It occurred to you to lie, but when you caught Bucky’s eye in the mirror, you sensed he’d know somehow. And it seemed like such an easy thing to tell the truth about, that you didn’t want to risk angering him so soon. 

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites.” 

Bucky gave another nod, and his fingers squeezed your shoulders lightly, as if rewarding you for your honesty. Then he pulled down the zipper and peeled the dress off your body until it pooled on the plush carpet at your feet.

Instinctively, your arms lifted to cover yourself, forgetting that your husband had seen you naked on plenty enough occasions. But those had all been in your bed under much more forgiving lighting. 

Bucky growled a quick, “Don’t,” and you jerked your arms back to your sides. 

“Good girl.”

His gruff praise slid down your spine and settled heavily between your thighs, but you were too focused on watching what he was doing to question your reaction.

Bucky knelt down and picked up your dress with careful fingers, finding a hanger and hanging it back up before returning his attention to you.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice so low and rough it reminded you of the way he’d speak to you in bed, when he was buried inside you, urging your body to meet his own so that you could both find your pleasure.

Slightly distracted by the faint pulsing between your thighs, you turned to face your husband, your eyes finding his and watching him closely. 

Bucky’s gave swept a slow perusal of your body, lingering on the way the lingerie he’d given you hugged your tits and cupped your mound, accentuating all your curves and swathing your body in luxurious, satiny lace. Your husband’s eyes seemed to darken the longer he looked at you, his pupils blowing wide.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice so impossibly gruff, it took you a moment to understand his question.

“It…it feels good,” you answered honestly, still getting used to telling your husband the truth, though it was getting easier. “It makes me feel…pretty.”

“Pretty—fuck that, you’re gorgeous, moya zhena,” Bucky rasped, dragging his eyes up to yours.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sheer intensity in your husband’s gaze. 

“This is all I wanted,” he went on. “I wanted to see you like this, wearing the lingerie I bought for you, before we went to the party.”

He stepped closer and you swayed slightly on your feet, your body yearning for him like a flower longs for the sun. 

“I wanted to have this memory of you in my mind when we went to the party and know I’m the only man who will ever see you like this, looking more beautiful than the moon and stars—looking like mine.”

You sucked in a sharp gasp, the sound loud in the quiet of the walk-in closet, which suddenly felt too small, even as Bucky felt too far away. 

Heat flooded your core at your husband’s words, and the ravenous hunger beneath them. Perhaps because of the tenuous trust between you and Bucky, or because you couldn’t seem to help yourself around your husband, your body responded to his possessiveness with a hungry ache of its own.

“But you tried to deprive me of this vision of beauty,” Bucky continued, prowling toward you, making your heart skip a beat with excitement. “And that I can’t abide.”

When he reached for you, spinning you around again until you faced the mirror and he was holding you gently but firmly, whatever unease you’d felt that evening evaporated entirely. All you could feel was a need thrumming beneath your skin, one you were certain only he could sate.

“I’m not going to hurt you, moya zhena,” he said, holding your gaze unwaveringly in the mirror. He paused, waiting until you nodded your understanding before he went on. “But I am going to make sure you feel me all night—and never forget who you belong to.”

A beat passed, and it took you a long moment to realize Bucky was giving you a chance to escape whatever he planned to do to you. You surprised yourself when you didn’t take it. Instead you nodded, watching Bucky’s eyes darken in his reflection, the corners of his mouth curling into a pleased smirk.

With Bucky’s promise hanging heavy in the air between you, he guided you down onto the ottoman, his touch gentle and firm as he arranged you on your hands and knees. You heard him undo his zipper, and felt his knuckles brush against your ass as he pumped his cock to full hardness. 

Despite everything that had happened that evening, you felt yourself warming for him. Your slit dampened for your husband as if your body knew it belonged to him. It was almost dizzying, the way your heart raced excitedly, and your mind struggled to keep up.

Behind you, Bucky hooked his finger in the gusset of your panties and pulled them aside, then pressed the tip of his bare cock to your tight entrance. You were starting to be ready for him, but you weren’t nearly wet enough to take him comfortably, and it suddenly hit you what your husband planned to do.

You tensed, and looked into the mirror, catching Bucky’s eye. You could see him cataloging the range of emotions as they flitted across your face—doubt, intrigue, hunger, need. He seemed to be reassured when he didn’t see any fear in your eyes.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, moya zhena,” he reminded you, his tone almost kind. You swallowed and nodded at his reflection. “But I didn’t say this wouldn’t be uncomfortable.”

He pushed his hips forward, his expression heated as he watched your face go slack at the feel of him. The head of your husband’s cock was blunt and unyielding as it breached your tight hole, and you felt every thick millimeter of his tip sinking into your pussy. 

A gasp caught in your throat, your breath freezing in your lungs. Your body went still as every shred of your being focused on the feeling of your husband’s cock pushing inside you. You were a little wet for him, but not nearly enough to make penetration easy—but that was exactly the point.

Bucky didn’t rush it, and true to his word, he didn’t hurt you. Once the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy, he pulled out and pushed inside again, driving the air from your lungs and forcing you to breathe again. 

You felt yourself relax infinitesimally at the first sparks of pleasure, and you were rewarded by your husband stroking his hand soothingly down your spine, urging you to soften even more.

“That’s it, moya zhena, let me in,” he rumbled above you. 

You lifted your head, not knowing when it had dropped between your shoulders, so you could catch his eye in the mirror. He pinned you with his gaze just as surely as he’d pinned you with his hands. 

“Just breathe and take it, baby, take your husband’s cock.”

Bucky’s words had a soft moan slipping free from your lips and you settled more deeply into your position on the ottoman, your shoulders lowering and your spine arching so your ass was presented to your husband. He rumbled a pleased sound in his throat and refocused on shoving the head of his cock into your pussy. 

He repeated the movement over and over again, fucking you with the tip of his hard length as you gradually opened for him. His cock slid a little bit deeper with every thrust, and you felt every delicious inch of his thick shaft stretching you bit by bit, making your tight hole take him more and more as you grew wetter and wetter for him. 

When he was halfway buried inside you, the pleasurable ache of his cock pushing inside you became too much and your arms gave out. Your upper body slumped to the plush velvet ottoman, your lips falling open in a helpless moan.

Above you, Bucky chuckled, his palm stroking down your spine again before it settled possessively on your hip. You felt your husband curl over your back, his other hand tipping your face toward the mirror so you could still watch him looming over you.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby, keep your eyes on me,” he rumbled encouragingly, rocking his hips so his cock pushed even deeper inside your pussy. 

Your eyes widened as the delicious stinging stretch of him plunging further inside your heat. He felt so big, so impossibly thick, it shorted out something in your mind. All you could do was take him, feel him, submit to him.

“Fuck, you feel so tight like this—you’re taking my cock so well, moya zhena.”

A sudden sob of pleasure bubbled from your lips at Bucky’s praise, your heart feeling like it was cracking open to reveal its soft, tender inside. You didn’t understand what was happening to you as tears sprang to your eyes, but your husband seemingly did.

Bucky wrapped his arms securely around your body, cooing soothing noises in your ear as he stroked your sides and your arms and everywhere he could reach. All the while, he fucked deeper into you, making you feel every solid inch of him until you were nearly overwhelmed with it—with him.

When there was only an inch left to go of his cock pushing into your pussy, Bucky murmured in your ear, “Deep breath, baby.” 

Obediently, you sucked in a deep lungful of air, and Bucky plunged inside you to the hilt.

The sound that wrenched free from your throat was part devastating pleasure, part overwhelming relief. It was as if a dam broke deep in your soul at the feeling of your husband’s cock finally fully seated inside you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes, and small tremors wracked your body, but before you could determine whether you’d come just from Bucky’s cock entering you completely, he was tightening his arms and hauling you up from where you’d been slumped over.

One of your husband’s hands slid around your throat, pinning your shoulders to his chest, while the other lay possessively over your lower belly, holding your body impaled on his hard length. 

The change in position had Bucky’s cock slipping a little out of your tight hole. He raised a knee up onto the ottoman, pulling you back into his lap and allowing gravity to help you sink down on his shaft until he was buried to the root once again.

Then, he stared at your reflection. The image of your bodies connected, the lingerie contrasting with your skin—his cock buried in your cunt. You could feel the prickling awareness of his gaze as it caressed your curves and worshipped every inch of you.

“You are a goddess, moya zhena,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, and you lifted heavy-lidded eyes to meet his in the mirror. You found an endless well of appreciation in your husband’s gaze that would have knocked you over if he wasn’t holding you up. “You are my queen, and the only orders you obey are mine, do you understand?”

You realized, suddenly and with startling clarity, that you’d been right all along. Bucky was truly nothing like what you’d thought or expected him to be. He wasn’t cruel. He didn’t want to gain your loyalty through fear. 

He wanted your trust, but he wanted it freely given. He wanted to build you up, to lend you the power he had fought for, all in exchange for simply being his.

It was almost too much for your mind to process, but your body seemed to understand, and your lips parted, spilling the words you’d learned out of curiosity about your husband and his culture. 

“Yes, moy korol,” you said, holding Bucky’s gaze in the mirror. 

You watched your husband’s eyes darken at your words—“my king”—a rush of pride filling your belly when a pleased smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. 

“You’re learning Russian, moya zhena?” he asked, so much warmth filling his tone, he sounded nothing like the man who’d entered your bedroom earlier that evening. 

“I thought it might be useful,” you dared to quip back, your voice breathless, a tentative smile on your face as you watched your husband’s reflection. 

Bucky’s hand around your throat shifted, his fingertips pressing to your jaw and turning your head so he could look at you properly. He grinned down at you for a moment, affection sparkling in his bright eyes, before brushing a sweet kiss to your mouth. 

It was the first time he’d kissed you that evening, and you sucked in a sharp breath of pleasure as the almost familiar taste of him burst on your lips.

“I’ll help you,” he murmured against your mouth, pressing his smile into your skin. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

You returned his smile, but before you could thank him, Bucky was pulling his hips back and driving his cock into your cunt with such a sharp slam, it had your tits bouncing and a gasp wrenching from your lips.

Both of you turned back to the mirror, watching as he did it again, making you feel every hard inch of his cock in your tight pussy. Bucky’s eyes blazed with heat as he watched your body shift and bounce in the reflection, your lips falling open on a helpless moan as you took every hard thrust.

“Fuck, moya zhena, you’re a divine vision sent from the gods to torment me,” Bucky growled, his fingers tightening around your throat as he fucked you, rumbling filthy words in your ear. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous than impaled on my cock, wearing the lingerie I bought for you—you’ve never looked more mine.”

“Bu-Bucky, oh god,” you cried, your eyes sliding closed from the pleasure of his cock spearing into you, dragging against every sensitive inch of your inner walls. He felt so big, so good, so torturously perfect inside you. 

“Eyes open, baby,” Bucky commanded, biting your jaw in warning. Your eyes flew open and went straight to your husband’s face, watching the pleased smile curve his lips. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, I want to watch you come apart on my cock.”

Your gaze felt tethered to your husband’s, holding his eyes unwaveringly in the mirror as he pounded into you. Vaguely, you were aware of your face contorting with pleasure as Bucky rutted into your tight cunt, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his thick shaft inside you and the dark, feral hunger in his eyes.

It wasn’t long before Bucky’s rhythm turned harder, wilder, as he got close to his peak. Your husband’s hand slid down from your belly to find your clit, and he rubbed the delicate pearl until you were shaking and crying in his arms. Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat, choking you lightly and making your pussy pulse around his hard length.

“Come on my cock, moya koroleva, I want to feel your cunt milking me dry while I fill you with my seed,” Bucky growled, his voice gruff and nearly indiscernible. “You’re going to be dripping with my come all night at this party, feeling me between your thighs until I can get back into this pussy and pump you full again tonight.”

“Bucky!” you screamed your husband’s name as your release crashed over you, spurred by his words and his cock and his fingers on your clit. You shook wildly in his arms, your eyes nearly closing as pleasure overwhelmed you, but you managed to keep them open just enough to watch your husband lose himself in your body. 

Bucky rutted into your cunt a few more times, shoving his cock deeper with every thrust, until he buried himself to the hilt. His hand squeezed your throat reflexively, and his teeth sank into your shoulder, biting down hard as he muffled a load roar against your skin.

You felt him pulse and throb in your pussy, your fluttering walls clenching around his hard length as if greedily milking the seed from his cock. The two of you coming together was a messy, beautiful thing, your sounds of pleasure filling the walk-in closet. 

For a few minutes more, you writhed against each other, eking out every last ounce of pleasure from your releases as your bodies slowly calmed. Before you’d fully caught your breath, Bucky turned your face to his again so he could kiss you, and you sighed happily against your husband’s lips.

Something had shifted between the two of you—you knew it as surely as you knew you were married to the White Wolf. Bucky cared for you, he wanted you to trust him, and you wanted the same. 

For the first time since you’d learned you were to be married to the head of the Bratva, you thought you might actually find some happiness with your husband. You hoped you might even find love with Bucky Barnes. It almost seemed too good to be true.

When you were both finally sated, Bucky eased his cock from your pussy as gently as possible. It still stung a little, your sensitive inner walls raw from the way he’d pushed inside you almost dry, but you welcomed the ache. You knew you’d feel your husband for the entire night, and it delighted you to no end.

“Did you hate your punishment, baby?” Bucky asked, his eyes searching your face as he helped you down from the ottoman, bearing your weight as your knees shook. 

“No, moy korol,” you murmured, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your lips. You kissed his palm, just beneath his wedding ring, and smiled serenely at him. “I like that I’ll be able to feel you all night,” you said, telling him the truth, just as you’d promised. 

Bucky studied you for a moment, as if making sure you were being honest, and when he realized you were, his eyes darkened. He captured your mouth in a fierce kiss, hauling you against his chest and bending you backward with the ferocity of it, which you met with your own unfettered passion.

Once you finally parted, Bucky helped you back into your dress, and waited patiently as you fixed your makeup and your hair. He watched you with barely concealed heat in his gaze and a ghost of a smile on his lips, affection clear in every line of his face. 

It settled something deep inside you to finally know how your husband felt about you, and when you were ready, you reached for him. Bucky caught your hand and tucked you into his side, holding you in such a way that you felt more safe and secure than you ever had before.

Then, you left for the party.

When you arrived, you knew you were extremely late, and some of the anxiety you’d felt earlier in the night resurfaced. You clung to Bucky’s arm as you watched your father storm over, the expression on his face so furious, it took all your self-control not to flinch. 

The closer your father got, the more tightly you curled yourself around Bucky’s bicep, and your husband silently took note of your reaction. His hand covered one of yours where it was tucked into his elbow, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze that offered you strength. 

“You’re late,” your father began as soon as he was close enough for his hissed words to be heard, but not overheard. Before he could continue, though, Bucky cut him off.

“Moya koroleva is never late,” he said in a voice so icy cold, it nearly sent a shiver down your spine. You’d never heard him speak to you like that, and you were glad for it, because that tone was blisteringly brutal. “We arrive precisely when we mean to.”

With that, Bucky gave your father a scathing look and swept you away into the party, getting you a drink before depositing you with some of your trusted friends and family. Then, he gave you some space to enjoy yourself, though you could always feel him hovering in your periphery. 

It didn’t feel smothering, only comforting, and you were able to finally relax under your husband’s warm, watchful eye while you chatted with your loved ones. 

You ended up enjoying the party, catching up with those you hadn’t seen in a while, and delighting in all the gossip you’d missed while settling into your husband’s home. 

Occasionally throughout the evening, Bucky allowed you to tug him onto the dance floor. Though he dragged his feet a little, he seemed happy to have you in his arms for a little while.

When you arrived home late that night, Bucky unwrapped you like you were a gift from the gods, worshipping your body for hours with his mouth on your pussy. You were so ready when he finally slid his cock inside you, your pussy made obscene wet sounds as he buried himself to the hilt, both of you moaning at how good it felt.

Then, you enjoyed the rest of your night as husband and wife—as a king and his queen. 

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