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angelshadowsinger · 10 months

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Too Late (Priorities 2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hurries back from his mission to find you’re gone. (sequel to Priorities)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

hiii guys! i originally intended on leaving Priorities an open-ended angst, but! y'all demanded part 2, so here it is~ just so you know, this is not happy. if i make a part 3, that might be! also, sorry this is a bit late. this last week was crazy busy and next week probably will be too. TW: very brief mention of vomit

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The wind howled as Azriel pelted through the sky, his raw cheeks stinging from its relentless barrage. Scarred fists were clenched so hard the imprint of his fingernails marred his palms, jaw set as he grit his teeth and powered through exhaustion.

You were right.

The mission that Rhys had sent him on was nothing but a menial task. Any of the lower members of Azriel’s investigation force could have done the job the same as him. But ultimately, it was only himself he had to blame; even if his brother had given him the task, he had failed to pass it on to his espionage underlings. Delegation was perhaps one of his weakest skills— even after all these years he felt he had to earn his worth within his family.

Thankfully, he was already on his way home the evening after leaving, the ordeal taking not even a full day. And he was flying full-speed in order to get back to you as fast as he could.

His stomach had been in knots ever since he winnowed from his room at the Town House, where he had left you alone with your tears. The sound of your sobs echoed in his head, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled your pleas for him to stay.

He should’ve listened— This mission was the last nail in the coffin he had been slowly building every time his brother had summoned him away from you, calling him to duty with barely any time to rest between requests, barely any time to hold you in his arms.

Gods, he missed you. Every time he had to leave you was like pulling teeth, his body and his shadows always begging to stay by your side, savor your kiss and your touch and your voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. But his mind always won out. He couldn’t count how many times he had forced himself to withdraw from your ambrosial embrace, how many times he averted his sight from your melancholy gaze. If he allowed himself to linger on it, shame would begin to swirl in his guts and tighten his throat.

The border of Velaris came into view and the shadowsinger dared to smile, stopping on a tall plain to gather a few wildflowers together. A meager peace offering, but a gift to show his remorse nonetheless. He had never returned to you empty-handed after a fight, and would not begin now.

Azriel plucked a few more stems to fluff up the bouquet, silently preparing himself for the emotional turmoil that was bound to ensue. The things he felt for you terrified him— and maybe that was partly why he would always answer Rhys’ call. Because if he stayed, and told his brother no… that would be his recognition that you had become his top priority. Perhaps it was time to make that leap, he thought, as he winnowed right into the foyer of the townhouse.

The home was eerily silent as he materialized in the dark, no candles or faelight illuminating the first floor. The sound of the clock ticking caught his attention, hazel eyes glancing at the last hour of dusk. The Illyrian frowned, straining to hear you, hoping to pick up the clank of dishes in the sink, the crisp turn of a page from a book, or even the quiet breaths of your sleeping form from the couch you usually dozed off on when you waited up for his return. But he detected not a single sound.

Anxiety exploded in his chest, his shadows immediately surging out in every direction without needing instruction. His feet were moving before he could think, swiftly carrying him to the last place he had seen you— where he left you, falling apart and alone.

He cursed as he hurtled up the stairs, three steps with each stride. It was times like these that he especially wished you were his mate, so that he could reach out to you and calm the ceaseless concerns that regarded your well-being every second he was apart from you.

Rounding the corner, Azriel burst into his bedroom, eyes immediately zeroing in on the empty, made bed. Within a second, faelight lit the room. His shadows dwindled in the corners of the room, uncharacteristically mild as they slowly swirled at the floor, not reporting their findings to their master. Azriel bared his teeth at none of them in particular, but the reprimanding he was ready to bark out died in his throat as he noticed a small whirl of black lingering on the nightstand at his side of the bed.

He came closer to inspect it, the little mass of shadow concentrated there, some spilling down the drawers at the side and joining its gloomy brethren on the ground. With a wave of his hand it dissipated. The bouquet in his grip fell to the tile with a soft whoosh.

Your ring.

It felt as if he had been shot, the jolt of lethal pain akin to when he had taken an arrow to the chest in Hybern. His lips parted as he examined the delicate silver band, the large, tear-shaped sapphire that once gleamed so brightly now dull against the wood.

‘Stop wearing this the day you stop loving me,’ he had said, his arms around her as she giggled into his chest. She was giddy at his gift, kept admiring how it looked on her finger, her hand fanning out so the moonlight would catch the gem and shine.

‘That would be never, shadowsinger,’ she had replied easily.

He had never felt so light, so careless and content; she loved him too. She loved him, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps she was.

Azriel fell to the ground, his knees buckling and smashing onto the hard tile. He barely felt it, every fiber of him in shock as he stared at the piece of jewelry that lay on the tabletop, now at eye-level.

He barely heard his shadows inform him that the ring was the only piece of you in the home left, that your clothes and books and even that ugly throw pillow he hated was gone from the sofa. His wings slowly dipped until they pooled into a black mass on the floor behind him, dread oozing through him as he read the words that laid on the note beneath your ring.

I’ll never stop, even if you have.

The shadowsinger sat and stared at the ring, at those awful words. He read them again, and then he reread them, again and again.

He had told you he loved you before he left… But you didn’t believe him. And why should you, when all he gave you as of late were empty promises? Pretty words could only satisfy temporarily, and the latest string of seemingly-endless missions was longer than ever before.

Doubts began to fill his mind with malicious whispers, his gaze still stuck on the ring and that hideous note. They murmured the thoughts that often found him at the odd hours of the night, when he would lay with your perfect body in his arms and sleep would welcome you but evade him– that you deserved more than he could ever give you, that he was unworthy of your pure and whole love.

The sound of droplets splattering on the ground summoned Azriel from his descent into devastation, and his eyes slowly fell to examine the tiny pools his tears had formed beside his knees. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. He gingerly raised a scarred hand to his cheek, studying the newfound wetness on his fingertips. It had been so long since he last cried, the evidence of his emotion was foreign.

Shaky fingers plucked the ring from the nightstand, coming to hold the tiny finery in his lap. It looked so bizarre against the crude black of the leathers binding his thighs, so bright and pure that he couldn’t help but think of you. Couldn’t help but think of when he had seen you personified the same, and he himself as a mass of darkness that would bleed into your light and poison you somehow. He thought of how every time he felt that way, you had worked so hard to convince him that he deserved you and that he deserved love, that you were so happy to be the one to give it to him. More tears escaped as he now realized his failure in telling you the same. You had always been there for him, and when you had begged him for support in your time of need, he had failed you. He had run away.

And now you had erased all traces of yourself from the house Rhys had gifted him.

The town house had become Azriel’s official residence since his brothers had coupled off, and it had once been the fortress of his solitude. That was before he had found you, and before you had gradually moved your things in… before it had become a home. And now that it was void of you once more, it had suddenly reverted back to that empty, bleak place he had learned to hate.

A lump formed in his throat at the notion that perhaps this place had slowly transformed into your own prison of isolation these last few months. That maybe you had felt this sinking, desperate feeling when you were here, in the place that was meant to be your nest of love, your safe haven. That you had told him you were drowning here, and he had simply told you to wait for him when you were already exhausted, gasping out for him with your last breath. That when he had disregarded your desperate plea, he had effectively swung the sword and severed any faith you had left in him.

You were gone, and it was all his fault.

He was too late.

Nausea rolled deep in his gut and he winnowed in front of the toilet just in time before the contents of his stomach surfaced. Only once his body had heaved up everything it could did he begin to sob, knuckles pale as they clenched onto porcelain, his broad form slumped on the cool tile. Shadows swarmed the bath, mirroring their master’s distress.

Eventually the shadowsinger sat back against the nearest wall, trying to calm his ragged breath. The shadows produced the note that had been left behind, and the sight of your parting words to him nearly triggered another fit, bile rising at the back of his throat. But he paused as he read the words again, scrutinized them even though they were few and short. He sat up and analyzed the note, hazel revisiting and eating up every curve of ink.

You still loved him.

Even after he had ignored you, neglected you, failed you… you still loved him. Was there a chance that you… still wanted him? If he could repent and swear to do better, would you take him back? If he could just talk to you, if he could get one more chance from you… he could love you. He already did love you, but if he had another shot to be with you, then he could really give you his all, he could really allow himself to love you like he had always dreamt of. He could stand up to his brother, he could tell you how his world was meaningless without you, he could cherish you– prioritize you, he could…

Azriel frowned, a panicked hand combing through his dark hair.

Could he do all of that?

He had never been so outright with his emotions, it felt weak to bear his heart to such a degree… But what was the alternative? A life without you? A life filled with wondering what could have been had he not been a coward that was too scared to tell you how he really felt, too scared to even try?

If there was a time to be brave, it was now.

He was absolutely terrified, but his resolve was steel as he took a minute to fix himself, another to grab the flowers from the ground and ensure he had your ring. And then he was off in search of you, shadows enveloping him and melting into the night.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel angst #my work #angelshadowsinger

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gutsby · 4 months

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Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own. (part of the Waiting Game 'verse, just not a direct sequel/prequel to anything idk what to call it!!)

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

Something about the sun in Cabo San Lucas and your best friend’s father’s sweaty body makes you a horny mess. When you find an old shirt of his lying around, you can’t resist. When Mr. Miller finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Quiet on Set (Norman Reedus x Reader)

Filming a sex scene is no easy feat, especially when it’s with your least favorite costar in the Walking Dead franchise. Push comes to shove and a fake fuck turns to a hatefuck real quick—no cameras needed.

Requests are open!

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zepskies · 1 year

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Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The BMD Playlist

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, here's a way to keep me caffeinated: Ko-Fi Me ☕

Read More In the BMD-Verse

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] - COMING IN MAY! A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #private investigator!reader #checkerboard prequel #dark romance #break me down #break me down masterlist #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy fanfiction #the boy au #enemies to lovers #romance #zepskies writes

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youryanderedaddy · 5 months

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Give, Take, Borrow

Summary: You wake up in Bane's castle. Chaos ensues. Sequel to Love, Loss, Fire. Commissioned piece. tw: nsfw, female reader, non - con, captivity, possessive behavior, vampires, degradation, threats, choking, spanking, mind break

Your eyes scanned the room for any sense of familiarity - for a sight of dust, of color, of imperfection; of humanity. But there was nothing for you to take in. The walls were covered in gold and rubies, and the smell of velvet and blood tainted the heavy air with pure sin. You looked down at yourself, shivering all over. You were completely bare, except for the flimsy silk robe covering your shoulders. The realization that he must have put it on you while you were unconscious left you with a sense of cold dread, but you didn’t have the courage to think beyond that.

The room was empty, for better or worse. You were feeling dizzy and disoriented, and one quick look at the clock confirmed your fears - it was already well past midnight. You had slept for more than 20 hours, your body completely exhausted after the attack. You took a deep breath before brushing the warm blanket aside - you couldn’t keep hiding forever, even if the thought of facing the monster made your skin crawl.

You stepped on the soft fluffy carpet, enjoying the way it felt against your cold feet - but then you stared deeper into the fabric and recognised it as bear fur. Frowning, you stepped aside as the disgust washed over you. So you weren’t the only prize in the lion’s den - you were just the one left breathing. For now.

Eventually you managed to reach the mirror after crawling around, scared as can be. Terrified to look at the state the vampire had left you in. You slowly let the gown slip past your shoulders, revealing your naked figure. Staring back at you was an unrecognizable face and a body that didn’t seem to belong to you anymore. The black - blue bruises and red bloody hickeys stuck to your skin like a cruel reminder of your new reality.

You couldn’t stand to look at yourself anymore so you averted your gaze to the table. There was placed a small porcelain plate, filled with cheese and grapes, along with a thin glass of red wine. Next to it there was a note drenched in thick black ink - so thick it was seeping through the paper onto the fine wood underneath. It read “You can find me in the ballroom.”, but the splashes of blood all over made it clear that the real command behind it was “Come find me in the ballroom. Or else.”

Inhale. Exhale. You had to keep a clear mind - as of now you were the only one you could trust. Lost were the days when you could use another person’s warmth. You were on your own, caged by the enemy.

Your attention was drawn to the chair next to the bed. On it carefully laid was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen - long and delicate with thin golden embroidery sewn into the sleeves, and a tight corset that left little to the imagination. It wasn’t hard to guess who left it here for you to find. The vampire was probably anticipating your arrival by now, picturing you all dressed up for him like a little doll. Too bad that you would rather die before giving into his twisted desires for a second time.

You tried to look around for your own clothes, but soon remembered that they had been destroyed the night before. You had no choice - you had to go through the closet. You grabbed the first white shirt you could find, as well as a pair of brown pants. They didn’t exactly fit properly, too big on your frame, but it was still better than wearing the dress Bane had picked out for you.

You finally reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment. You didn’t want to obey the noble’s demand, but you were starving - you hadn’t eaten in days. Besides, you already knew the vampire’s nature - if you were to rebel, he would simply come and drag you away, kicking and screaming. At least this way you retained some level of control over the situation. You got to choose when, where and how he got to play with you; not the other way around.

* * *

You found yourself lost between hundreds of similar looking corridors, all either purple or red, equally grand, even posh. You had to stop yourself from staring at every single painting, photo or antique on the way - but the absolute abundance of the labyrinth made you feel like it was specifically designed to both fascinate and confuse. And just like that, out of the blue someone yanked your arm and shoved you into the nearest wall with little care about your fragile human body.

“What do we have here?” The stranger stepped outside of the shadows, and even before you could see his face, you already felt uneasy. “Seems like a pretty little human. How amusing.” His companion, the one who attacked you, responded swiftly, and the nasal purr in his voice set all the alarms in your mind off. You had to get away - quickly.

You tried to squirm out of the grasp, but the vampire holding you was simply too strong. The room echoed their nasty, mocking chuckles and you could feel their cold hands running down your body at the same time - groping at your hips, your chest, your thighs; their fingers wrapping your hair into a fist and pulling.

“Not so fast, pretty girl.” One of the nobles hissed in your ear as he bared your throat, preparing to sink his fangs deep into the warm, blood - filled flesh. And then you heard it - your scream. A deep, guttural scream that reached the ceiling and bounced off the chandelier.

Not even a second later you found yourself freed, and fell to the ground, breathing heavily. You looked up to see a familiar face extending a strong, muscular hand towards you. And you took it, albeit gingerly.

“Is everything alright, gentlemen?” Bane asserted rather than asked, leaning against the wall. His presence was cold and perfectly collected, the oppressive air around him dominating over his subordinates’ evident bloodlust - the only sign of annoyance hidden behind his crimson orbs. Immediately the two men straightened their backs, appearing docile - obedient before their master as they nodded to no end, too scared to make a sound. You wanted to laugh, but the little voice telling you that you were no different from them made it die down at your throat.

“Great. You’re free to go now.” The hunter smiled, and your heart dropped. You had never seen such a cold smile before - a smile that could kill. It didn’t take long for the vampires to leave in a hurry, mouthing excuses, dumbfounded and ashamed. Now it was just you and your captor, alone in the endless corridor with no way out, his undivided attention on you once again. You gulped dryly.

“You left me alone.” You were the first to break the silence, looking around awkwardly. It was silly to feel shy at this very moment - you had fought that man, he had seen you at your most vulnerable, panting and helpless. And the situation wasn’t all that different now. You were still vulnerable. You were still helpless before him.

“I thought you didn’t want me around.” The monster replied, playfully raising one eyebrow - yet the coldness didn’t leave his eyes. It always stuck like a permanent reminder not to trust the demon.

“And yet you called for me.” You snapped back, clicking your tongue. It was easier to give into your frustration than to bare your fears in front of him. “The note?” Bane pretended to think about it for a second, but it was obviously just a game of tag. “That was simply a suggestion, my darling.” He chuckled, and you whispered “bullshit” - but even if he heard it, he didn’t say anything, instead opting for offering you his forearm. You took it, sighing. It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

The noble lead you to the table, pulling the chair and gesturing for you to sit. You rolled your eyes, but complied - you were so starved you felt like you would do anything for some food. Fortunately, the table was filled up - meats, sweets, fruits, candy, tarts, puddings, liquor… Anything your heart could desire, just like he had promised that night.

Bane crossed his hands, tilting his head to the side - and just like that a glass of wine appeared between his thin fingers. He smirked at your agape expression.

“Go on.” He looked straight at you as he took a big sip. “Explain yourself, dear. Humor me.” He drowned the glass hungrily, licking his lips - his teeth so white they seemed to glow in the dark with a dangerous light. Alluring. Entrancing. “W-who-what are you talking about?” You stumbled over your words, completely puzzled. “I am talking about you, of course. You’re wandering half naked, carrying around the sweetest fucking scent in a castle full of vampires.” The vampire gave you a crooked grin, and you could feel your cheeks getting warm and your head fuzzy.

“You’re either stupid…” He clicked his fingers and his glass filled up with wine again. “Brave…” He paused to play with the glass. “Or looking for attention.” The glass started shattering under the pressure of his fingers, the broken pieces cutting into his skin - but he didn’t seem to care as he let it fall to the ground. “So which one is it, hm?” His eyes were pinning you in place, unable to move as if hypnotized again. “Answer carefully, little one. My jealousy can be… destructive.”

You blinked twice, unable to believe he was actually accusing you of asking for this unwanted attention. “I was just trying to find the dining hall!” You tried to explain, growing agitated. “It was never my intention to run into those bloodsucking bas–”

“How am I supposed to believe that now, hmm?” The predator cut you off, the ghost of a smile haunting his lips as he teleported right in front of you. Your heart was beating like crazy. “If I hadn’t interfered, it would have been their hands feeling you up right now.” He roughly squeezed your shoulder as if trying to bring you down. “Their hands touching what’s mine.” His expression darkened in the split of an eye, making you shiver all over. “What rightfully belongs to me.” You winced, the pain becoming too much to bear. You opened your mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

“Why didn’t you wear the dress I left for you, pet?” The hunter growled, loosening his grip on you - yet taking a step closer at the same time. Now he was simply towering over you, his shadow hiding you from the outside world.

“I am not a-ah doll you can just dress up however y-you want!” You declared, putting on a brave face - but the shakiness in your voice made it sound just like a whimsical little whine. Bane put his hands around the handles of the chair, caging you in. The atmosphere suddenly grew quiet and sinister. “And do you feel better now, love?” He smiled maliciously. “Wearing my clothes?”

You froze in place. His clothes?

“I didn’t know they were yours–” You started, but his cold breath down your neck made you go silent - limbless. “Of course you fucking didn’t.” Bane hissed, his hips buckling against nothing - you could see the bulge in his pants, and your cheeks instantly reddened. “Do you know how much you smell like me right now?” He groaned, eyes glowing scarlet in the dark of the marble room. “Have you got any idea just how ravishing you look?” He whispered lowly, revealing his fangs to your throat - coming so close you could feel the sharp tips graze against the sensitive skin.

“You may think it’s a coincidence… but it’s really not.” His fangs were dancing over your trembling flesh, too faint to pierce through. “You see, darling, your core has been calling out to me since the day we met.” His fingers entangled into your hair, caressing it gently. “It wants to be taken. Claimed.” You closed your eyes, anticipating the scorching hot pain and then… nothing. Bane let go of you.

Oh how he loved playing with his food - you were starting to see the pattern. You would have been pissed if you weren’t shaking like a leaf, teary - eyed and all. You took yet another deep breath.

“Oh, relax, darling.” The noble mocked, shoving a salver towards you. “I simply can’t have you so soon. That would be terribly rude.” He laughed to himself, taking a step back. You wanted to kill him, and yet your stupid heart wouldn’t stop racing beyond control. “I am a gentleman after all.” He followed your gaze to the plate in front of you. “Here, take a bite.” He commanded, unexplainable excitement in his eyes.

You were scared to indulge in the feast, and yet the meat looked so good. So soft and buttery on an empty stomach. You finally gained the courage to bite into it, your face distorting into a grimace the moment the taste hit your tongue. It was raw. Bloody and raw.

The vampire smiled.

“I wanna go home.” You let out a snuffling sob, covering your face with your sleeve. “Please, you have to let me go. I can’t live like this.” You pleaded with your eyes open wide, softening your gaze to appear even more pitiful - for a moment you tried to forget you were dealing with a cold, unforgiving monster. “And where will you go, dear girl?” Bane hummed, not bothering to even look at you. “Your parents are dead and your so - called friends are probably being sold as blood slaves as we speak.” He smiled to himself in a mysterious way, as if reminiscing.

“Besides, all the territories around your home are stormed by high officials. All cruel bastards, mind you - can’t say we’re the best of friends. Too brutish for my taste really.” He put his hands together, voice sweet as honey. “Do you know what they’d do to a pretty, defenseless little thing like you?” The hunter asked, crossing his arms. You gulped, unsure if you were supposed to answer.

“They can’t be worse than you.” You snapped, clenching your fists. Just the mention of your closest people and their bitter fate made your whole body burn like an open wound. “At least they would quickly kill me.” You uttered with venom, hoping it would hurt him the way he had hurt you so many times already. “Without forcing me to play house first.” You continued, a smug, self assured grin finding its way to your tired face. In a way you did feel proud of yourself. The noble, on the hand, was silent - he hadn’t lost his mischievous cheerfulness, but there was a certain uncontained vengeance in his eyes.

“Shall we play a little game, dearest?” He whispered, reaching out to hold your hand - gently. “You seem to think that you’d be happier without me.” He squeezed down on your wrist slightly, applying just enough pressure to keep your eyes on his moving, threatening lips. “Even death is better than my love, right?” You shook your head, suddenly feeling cornered and exposed. “Oh, don’t go back on your word now, darling. You said it yourself.” He chuckled cruelly. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. In fact I think I will give you a chance to rid yourself of me.” He tilted his head playfully. “Aren’t I so generous?”

Your eyes lit up despite your best efforts to keep a poker face. “You’re playing with me again.” You decided to test the waters, squinting. “When have I lied to you, baby?” The man purred as his hands stretched to the side, revealing his muscles. Your eyes narrowed - you weren’t convinced. “I am serious. Listen to me now - because I won’t repeat myself. I will give you a thirty - second head start. You can run as fast as you can. Or you can sit in the corner and cry for all I care. But if you truly know what’s good for you, you will find a way out of the forest.” He asserted, a little smile dancing on his lips. You bit yours, looking away as the tension grew so heavy you could feel it against your chest, beating the air out of your lungs.

“And if I don’t?” You mumbled, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer to your question. “Let your fantasy run wild.” His grin turned predatory. You could feel your palms sweating - but what other choice did you have? You had nothing to lose anymore. You inhaled deeply. “Catch me, demon.” You declared, high off the sudden adrenaline rush, and perhaps even a bit of dumb courage. “Catch me if you can.”

* * *

You were up on your feet and running before the vampire even started chanting those deadly numbers. The last memory you had was of him smirking sadistically - licking his lips as if already tasting your skin on his fangs. You went through countless doors, corridors and floors, but just that bitter little frame stuck at the bottom of your foggy brain was enough to send electricity up your body, fueling you to keep moving - never slowing down or looking back. And it all paid off, because after what felt like hours you somehow made your way out of the castle. The gates were wide open, as if waiting for you. The guards were under a deep trance. Bane, for once, was keeping his word - and giving you fair play.

You looked around - every road led to the Cursed Forest, so you had no choice. You tried to recollect the map you had put together a few weeks ago while you were still on the run. If your mind wasn’t lying to you, the territories outside of the forest were neutral - they belonged to neither the humans nor the vampires, a war - free zone. If only you could get there before the monster caught up to you, freedom wouldn't be just a dream.

Shots fired, you took towards the old trees with a bold step. The oaks hugged you tightly, casting an ethereal shadow - hiding your steps. The song of the ravens stiffened and slowly died down. All the woodpeckers and owls returned to their hollows. Life stilled, poisoned by your humanity. Suddenly a prickly vine wrapped around your leg and you tripped, shortly falling down across a pile of dry leaves and twigs. You winced at the sharp pain, timidly looking down. Fuck.

Your ankle was bleeding, pierced by a thorn - but not just any thorn, an enchanted one; which meant only one thing. The venom was going to spread all over your leg in the next five seconds, dull and throbbing, and make it impossible to move around quickly. But even scarier was the fact that you could already hear heavy steps coming closer and closer, circling you in.

“Just when I needed a drink.” A voice spoke out from the pitch black darkness, but it wasn’t your enemy’s. This voice was softer, silkier. It belonged to a fox-like predator rather than a demon. “Oh, you’re a pretty one at that.” The stranger exclaimed, coming closer. You crawled back with difficulty, but you were no match for the vampire who simply teleported right in front of you with inhuman speed. “We are going to have so much fun, bunny, you and I.” He whispered hungrily, grabbing your chin to expose your neck. How unlucky could you possibly be, running from one predator and falling right into another. You wanted to cry, but instead clenched your eyes tight, holding back the hot tears. If you were about to die, you were going to do so with dignity.

“Let go of her right now, Carter.” A growl echoed through the forest, raw and reeking of violence. You opened your eyes, gasping as you saw a very angry Bane sprinting towards you - but he wasn’t looking at you. His focus was entirely on the man who had attacked you. “Let her go or I swear I am going to gut you and burn you at the stake with my own two hands.” The hunter cursed loudly, forming a fist. You had never seen him so mad, so out of control - he had always been smug, calm and collected - even in the face of danger. Now he was so enraged his voice was practically shaking.

“Now this is interesting.” The stranger chuckled, tightening his grasp on you. “What is she to you, Baney?” He squeezed your jaw painfully, forcing you to look at him, an unreadable mischievous expression on his face. “A lover perhaps? Or just a shiny new toy?” He paused to send a threatening glare towards the noble. “It doesn’t matter to me, really. I found her first.” His finger traced the outline of your lips and you had to restrain yourself from biting his index off. “And we both know the Cursed lands are under my father’s reign.” A vicious chuckle escaped his throat. “Should have kept your dog on a tighter leash, duke.” Carter teased, letting his sharpened fangs rest against your jugular.

Bane looked almost as pained as you - his eyes hardened, softened, then hardened again. Completely black.

“Please, Smith.” Your captor uttered after a long moment of silence, tone breathy and full of… fear. “I will do anything. Just don’t hurt her.” He pleaded, fighting his own pride just to say those words - and then kept his back straight even as the prince laughed in response, full of mockery. “Anything?” The man repeated with a grin, his eyes lighting up eerily. The hunter mouthed “anything” back, seemingly dazed. “I will remember that, Edwards. You owe me big time.” He hissed, roughly shoving you towards the noble. He in turn nodded with his brows narrowed, catching you in his arms.

Bane started dragging you off the bushes right away and you just let him, too tired and scared to fight. You almost died, and the scene kept replaying in your head over and over again. You just realized you were shaking, barely moving forwards. Your legs were staggering in place and the vampire was pulling you along. And just like that the tears were back - hot, burning, bursting out of your eyes like waterfalls.

“Bane, I am sorry.” You sniveled pitifully, trying to soften the blow. You didn’t even want to imagine what was going through the vampire’s head right now - just what tortures he had in store for you since you had failed, and you were undeniably his now. His to abuse, punish or forgive - and you were begging for the latter. “I was stupid, I shouldn’t have tried to–”

“Tried to what, huh?” Your enemy snorted, turning back to glare at you, eyes still fully black with red lines across the orb. “Tried to escape me? Tried to run away and then what exactly?” He laughed cruelly, a twinge of mania hidden behind his condescending tone. “Get it into your thick skull already - you’re nothing without me. You’re just a weak, fragile, breakable little girl who only survived for so long because I happened to find your clumsy attempts at rebelling amusing.” He snarled, violently pushing you against a tree before reaching for your collar and just pulling until you were forced to stand on your tip-toes - and even like that you were still so tiny compared to the monster.

“T-that’s… that’s not true!” You started off, chest flushing with panic as you failed to keep him at distance. “I am not weak! I can survive on my own if you just let me!” You cried out, your head getting dizzy with humiliation. You didn’t know what hurt more - the insults or the physical force restraining you.

“Oh, of course, princess.” Bane grunted, sarcastic to the bone. His face looked completely overtaken by darkness, and a deep desire to rip into something soft and helpless. “You are so fucking strong, aren’t you? That’s why I had to save your ass twice, right? Why I had to bargain with my father’s biggest enemy? Because you’re just oh-so good at handling yourself, yeah?!” He kept taunting you, egging himself on - he found sick satisfaction in watching your little face twist in pain and regret. He wanted to hurt you the way you had hurt him when you chose to go along with the game. It was a test, and you failed tremendously.

“Go on now.” The vampire whispered at last, tone suddenly low and diabolically sinister. “Show me just how strong you are.” He barked, pinning your hands above your head in a tight aching grip. He wanted you sore - he wanted you to learn once and for all that there was no fighting this, no escaping this fate. No way out of his love and obsession for you. “Come on, little girl.” He hissed, grabbing your bloody thigh and pressing in just the right place - staring in fascination as the blood poured out, dripping into a small puddle. “Show me what you’re made of.”

“It h-hurts, Bane, please stop.” You sobbed, trying to pull your leg away - but your tormentor held it tightly against his chest. “Tsk, you’re hopeless. Can’t even handle a little pain.” He clicked his tongue playfully, but there was nothing jolly about his expression, much less the obvious bloodlust your agony seemed to fire up inside him. “Stay still, okay, pet?” The duke cooed, sharpening his teeth. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your pretty legs now.” He purred, imitating care. “But then again, maybe that’s what it’ll take to keep you with me.” A dark, guttural chuckle escaped his lips as the tips of his fangs grazed against your battered, throbbing skin.

“Bane, I am sorry!” You whimpered, desperation tugging at your heartstrings, the voice inside your head screaming at you to do whatever it takes to leave the scene unscathed. “I am sorry, please believe me.” You let the shameful tears fall down your cheeks, leaving them red and puffy. “You were right… I need you.” You sighed heavily, biting your tongue, so close to losing your sanity you could taste the madness along with the blood. “Oh, I need you.” You repeated through wet, misty eyelashes - and the world seemed glittery and shiny again.

“Not good enough, doll.” The predator scoffed, but soon let go of your leg, opting instead for your bare neck. His fist wrapped around it, squeezing at the pulse points. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to use you. I am going to make you feel dirty - disgusting even.” He tore your pants with ease, feral with need. “And I don’t want to hear a sound.” Your underwear was next to go, lost to the abyss of darkness and mud. “Today is about my pleasure and your obedience.” He took off his belt and fastened it around your sore wrists, paying little attention to your pathetic little whines.

“N-no…” You uttered weakly, shivering as your body got exposed to the biting cold. “You knew what was going to happen if I caught you, no use complaining now.” Bane reminded you with a stern look as he brashly spread your legs and wrapped them around his hips. You could feel his throbbing manhood twitch against your entrance, and you instinctively tried to hide, but your muscles didn’t move an inch.

The vampire spat on his hand, using it to stroke his cock to hardness - almost giddy at the mental image of his pre - cum painting your folds white. He shoved two rough fingers inside you, thrusting half - heartedly, and quickly pulled out - he still wanted you to feel the burn as he stretched you beyond belief. “That’s enough foreplay for a naughty, disobedient pet.” The noble remarked bitterly, pushing himself all the way inside you with two sharp moves of his hips. You didn’t have time to adjust to his massive length properly - you were forced to stay still and just take in every agonizing inch dragging against your tight channel.

“Fuck, darling, you feel like heaven.” Your enemy groaned quietly as your walls closed around his member, spasming involuntarily. “Humans… s-shit, humans say that love shouldn’t hurt but–” His grip around your throat tightened, making you choke on thin air. “I can’t help it when your pain is so fucking delicious.” He blabbered, drunk off lust, only stopping to pull out half - way and buckle into you again, tip brushing against your raw cervix and making you scream.

“Shhh.” The predator covered your mouth to muffle the sound, and his hand connected to your ass with a loud smack. “Oh, baby, your hole tightened just now.” He moaned, groping your blushing buttocks. You went white with embarrassment - this was too much for you. “I should make your ass bright red - it’s not like you don’t deserve it.”

You shook your head frantically, to which he simply grinned, amused by your fear. “Say you love me.” The vampire demanded out of the blue, voice lowering sinisterly. You opened your mouth, but the lack of air and his fingers gripping your chin made it hard to speak clearly - but the man wasn’t too concerned about your struggles. He hit you again, this time using more force. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it, slut.” The perverse slap of skin on skin pierced through the silence, sending you into a rabid frenzy.

“Eh wuv yh.” You mumbled in short breaths, the only thing on your mind being survival. “I can’t fucking hear you, sweetheart.” Bane jeered mockingly, enjoying the way you debased yourself to please him. After he got enough of your muffled whimpers, he finally let you breathe. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Bane.” You cried out like a broken record, fully submitting to his wicked torment. You felt his fist wrap around your locks and prepared to feel the pain - but instead he gently caressed you.

“Good girl. Such a doll for me. I am so proud of you, princess.” He kissed your sweaty forehead, wiping off your tears. “Now be a darling and stay still while I fill you up, okay?”

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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alphacentaurinebula · 2 months

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Fanfic Recs!

Been on a reading spree so I thought it would be nice to rec a few of my favourite Good Omens fics

The Many-Venomed Earth (teen) - Gorgeous AU 1930s detective story where amateur sleuth Aziraphale must get Crowley off a murder charge. Yes that pun was intentional but actually this one is rated teen. I absolutely INHALED this fic and am halfway through the sequel - it's just brilliant.

Trial & Error (E) - Crowley on trial again - this time in Heaven, and the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is the judge. AWK-WARD. Hilarious, angsty and hot, what more could you ask!

Half agony half hope (teen) - absolutely loved this one! Regency AU which basically uses the British class system as a replacement for Heaven, with a lovely bit of moral awakening, especially for Aziraphale. I’m a sucker for a good bit of history and there are some nice real historical events referenced within - part of said moral awakening - and really deftly done. highly recommend.

Jesus, Etc (Gen)- the very first Good Omens fic I read, in that desperate post S2 period where all I wanted was a funny, happy resolution for those ineffable idiots...and this one delivered!

A Narrow Escape to the Country (teen) - properly funny. Aziraphale and Crowley appear on a daytime househunting tv series. Hilarity ensues.

Married at first sight (teen)- another reality show, which I have not watched, but that did not interfere with my enjoyment of this fic. Fake marriage is like…my favourite trope. Give me more.

Muddle through somehow (teen)- oh wait, here’s some more! Fake marriage and fake kid and fake country cottage. The voices are spot on in this one!

The Grinder Logo Doesn’t Even Have a G in It (E) - You've almost certainly read this already and if you haven't you must. Post season 1 fic which manages to do footnotes RIGHT. Properly funny, extremely hot, and pretty flipping adorable. I loved it.

Slow Show (E) - AU. Who possibly hasn’t heard of this fic? But it is fantastic, and hot and romantic and gorgeous.

#good omens fic rec #good omens fanfiction #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens fanfic

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buckrecs · 1 year

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2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Galavano by @ichorai

Bucky x Reader

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!

2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs

Bucky x Widow!Reader

The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.

4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle

Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader

You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?

5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers

Bucky x Reader

The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.

6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue

Bucky x Therapist!Reader

Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.

7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy

Bucky x Reader

You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.

8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy

Sequel to it’s all fun and games

Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for...

9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨

Bucky x Reader

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue.

14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian

Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader

It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story.

15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint

Alien!Bucky x Reader

In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…

16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.

17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨

Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking

Pirate!Bucky x Reader

Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?

19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.

21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller

40s!Bucky x Reader

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨

God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader

For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.

23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.

24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren

Bucky x Reader

After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.

27. Bygone by @borntobewondering

Bucky x Reader

You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.

28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.

29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill

Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.

30. Carnations by @viollettes

Bucky x Reader College AU

It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

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fayes-fics · 10 months

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Canvas

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An art lesson with a different kind of canvas

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, body painting, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, edging.

Word Count: 5.0k

Authors note: Sequel to Inspiration, but not necessary to have read before this. Unbetaed. This is a double request fill for @oureternalbond HERE and anon HERE. I decided to combine these requests as they were so similar (in essence, Benedict uses his wife as his canvas then smut ensues). I hope you enjoy <3

You find him in his studio, a glass conservatory he has co-opted for his artistic endeavours. He is barefoot and dressed only in black trousers and a white shirt, his braces hanging loosely around his hips, looking handsomely casual as he paints by candlelight, dusk settling in. It's then you spy his subject, the lovely arrangement of flowers you received from his family for your birthday last week. You wondered where the bouquet had disappeared to just now as you had wandered through your home—they previously had pride of place in your hallway.

“Stealing my birthday presents, husband?” you jest airily, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms.

Benedict twists around and shoots you an apologetic smile. “Only the artistically meritorious ones, my love,” he responds, amusement laced into his tone. “Join me?” he suggests, waving his brush towards the empty easel beside him.

“I'm not certain I have anything close to the requisite skills,” you hedge. You have only ever attended his painting sessions as his subject or simply as a companion, mostly reading quietly nearby as he works—one memorable time, sitting naked upon his cock to provide the requisite inspiration. Your blood runs a little warm just at the mere memory of it.

“Art does not always need to be about skill. Enjoyment of the process is just as important, perhaps more so. Besides, I can teach you,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling beguilingly. He never fails to convince you with that look.

“Alright,” you sigh fondly, straightening up and uncrossing your arms, “but you are not allowed to ridicule my attempt,” you argue, waggling a finger as you walk over.

He laughs and leans in to drop a kiss on your cheek as you draw up next to him. “I would never!” he promises in a bemused tone. “Everything you need is right there,” he nods to the supplies, “you have watched me paint enough times to know how to set up.”

His confidence in your ability seemed a little unwarranted, but you’ll give it a try.

___

“I cannot do this,” you lament about ten minutes later, looking forlornly between the canvas and the spray of flowers, disappointed in your less-than-accurate rendering. All you have managed is some stems and a vague version of the vase, which looks uneven.

“Nonsense,” he dismisses, “you are doing wonderfully for your first time, my love,” he adds patiently.

You twist around with a knitted brow to look at him. “Benedict, please… your flattery is obsequious. This is… not good,” you sigh, scratching your chin with the wooden end of your brush.

“Perhaps I can assist your efforts?” he offers, putting down his brush into a jar of water and placing his palette aside.

“Please…” you request gratefully.

A smile ghosts your lips as he rounds behind you, pushing you closer to the canvas, a hand landing on your hip under the arm you balance the palette upon, and the other curling around yours, holding the brush. His fingers are warm and soft.

“Now then,” his voice is rich and rumbles right next to your ear, “the first thing is to start with the colour there is the most of on the object, and then you can start to add in light and shade… are you quite alright?” he interrupts himself as you fidget slightly.

“All is well,” you reassure.

But it's a lie. The moment he stands close behind you, your traitorous body decides this is not an art lesson at all. No, it’s something quite different. Readying itself for him with quite remarkable speed and absolutely no effort on his part. Quite astonishing, really. You attempt to listen as he sonorously explains the method involved and makes your selection on the palette and brushstrokes over the canvas. But you are half-listening and half-participating at best.

His breath tickles the wisps of hair around your ears as he seems to lean in closer until he surrounds you with his long arms and body heat. He smells of his woodsy soap, and you have to tamp down the urge to twist your nose into his strong neck and inhale deeply. For a few minutes, he guides your hand, and you relax into the motion, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly engulfed by him much more than the act.

“Now, how about you try?” he voices, gently removing his hand from yours.

You stutter, realising you were not taking on board what he was saying, distracted by the striking mental image of him painting a glistening line across your collarbone, a bright golden streak over your bare flesh. You try to remember what he said and make a hesitant dab on the canvas, but there is a disapproving noise against your temple.

“That is not what I told you to do, now, is it?” he teases lowly.

“I do not know how to do it…” you confess in a breathy whisper. “Please guide me for a little longer, Benedict,” you implore.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asks, but it's not a disapproving tone. Not remotely. It’s a liting rumble, his face turning into yours so the tip of his nose nuzzles your earlobe, his breath hot on your jaw.

You suspect your lack of attention to his instruction may have been found out.

“People pay good money for me to teach them how to paint,” he breathes into your ear, both hands now on your hips, fingers circling over the diaphanous layers of your thin, silk gown. “And yet here is my wife, not even listening to her expert teacher.”

“I am… I…” you give up, knowing it's a pointless lie. You try a different tack. “I should hope you do not treat your other students in this manner?” you throw back, rocking onto your heels so the press of your bodies is greater.

“Indeed I do not,” he murmurs, and you inhale sharply as his teeth graze the shell of your ear.

“So perhaps this is somewhat unfair to me,” you posit, pouting your lips, knowing his eyes are watching you side on.

He chuckles richly. “Perhaps,” and he gently slides the paintbrush from between your fingers. “There is another method by which I can teach you all about the pleasures of painting.”

“Oh, and what is that?” you breathe, closing your eyes as warm lips land on your neck, that weak spot which makes you completely pliant.

“It requires a different canvas,” he whispers, his lips catching on your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you consider if he could read where your thoughts had skated only minutes earlier; again, you think of golden paint on your flesh. There is a faint ting as he drops the brush into a glass jar of water and eases the palette from where it is hooked around your thumb, and you do not fight it; just stand still and attempt to regulate your breathing, eagerly awaiting what he will do next.

Your heart rate spikes as deft fingers undo the buttons between your shoulder blades.

“You have such beautiful skin,” he sighs, his lips dropping warm onto the top of your shoulder as your dress relents and falls in a pool around you. “I want to paint you.”

Your breath hitches as he runs a knuckle down the notches of your spine; glad you didn’t bother with a chemise. Your eyes fall closed as he kisses your skin again and plucks open the laces of your stays. When the material slackens, he pulls the structured fabric away from your body and tosses it aside, his hands instantly cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

Your moan is wanton as you writhe, his fingers snagging your nipples as they pebble against his palm. One hand sweeps down to the little buttons on your silk underwear and deftly flicks them open as his other hand is busy, making your nipple into a stiff peak.

“Lay down, darling wife,” he murmurs, the tone laden, as your underwear slips around your ankles.

He gestures to the oversized double chaise conveniently covered in a heavy canvas drop cloth. It’s almost as if he planned for this. You hold his hand delicately as he assists you into a reclined position.

“Will you not be getting naked too, husband?” you coo, watching as he returns for a palette and brush.

“It would certainly make clean-up easier,” he smirks and rips off his shirt, tossing it aside.

Then he walks back to you, a slight swagger in his gait, knowing he has your undivided, breathy attention as your eyes covetously drink in his torso.

“Gold…” escapes your lips unbidden and stops him in his tracks as he towers above you.

“Gold, what?” his query warm, but puzzled as he places the art supplies on the floor next to the chaise.

“When I dream of you painting me, my body,” you confess, “it’s always gold.”

He leans over, his face etched with desire. “You dream of me doing this?”

“Yes,” you murmur, “Your cool, wet brush swirling over my heated skin….” you close your eyes and bite your lip, lost in the reverie of it.

“Tell me more,” he implores, his breath hot on your cheek, the chaise squeezing as he sits beside you. “Keep your eyes closed if it helps,” he adds, moving back; it sounds like he is fiddling with the supplies.

“You start at my neck….” you sigh, inhaling sharply when a wet ticklish brush lands right on the left side of your neck, then holds still.

“And then?” he prompts gently.

“Then… you do a swooping line over my chin to my other ear,” you breathe, gasping as he does exactly as you describe, the smell of fresh paint filling your nostrils, the feel of it wet and heavy.

“What is next?” his voice is dark and sweet now, goading you into more detail.

“Then you paint a line down the side of my neck, over here…” you gesture at your collarbone, “...then lower,” you end in a whisper, almost reluctant to admit how erotic your fantasies of him can be.

Nothing, however, can prepare you for those errant thoughts becoming a reality—the drag of cold buttery substance, each bristle a damp tickle as he smears a line to the swell of your breast, your eyes flying open to see his gaze heavy and intense on the task in hand. Your nipple pebbles almost painfully, even though he does not stray close to it, surrounding your breast with a golden loop, his pupils dilating, his breath hot on your skin, leaning close.

“Does that feel good?” he practically purrs.

You nod, feeling the wetness blotting across your neck at your movement.

Without asking you what happens next in your dream, he takes the initiative and traces a line around your other breast, the brush dipping into the valley of your breastbone before continuing. When you tip your head to see his handiwork, the metallic hue shines bright in the candlelight.

“May I use other colours on you too, my love?” his question is almost reverential in tone.

“I am yours, Benedict,” you sigh honestly, “do with me as you wish.”

Those words light an artistic and sensual fire in his eyes; he pushes up to kiss you, plundering your mouth with a possessive kiss. When he pulls away, you feel dazed, desperate for more, but you watch patiently as he reaches for another clean brush on the floor by his feet and selects a new choice from the palette.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do as he asks, aching to know what hue it is. You gasp as a broader brush runs across your skin, starting at your neck and sweeping down, shadowing the path of the other line already drying on your skin.

“What colour?” your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What is your favourite on me?” he teases gently, his strokes seeming to concentrate most on the sensitive skin under your breast, making your thoughts fuzzy, distracted—you know it's intentional.

“You look good in so many colours,” you offer; it's the truth. “I love your light gold cravat,” you add with a sigh, knowing he has already used that shade at your request.

“You are stalling, my love,” he points out with a bemused tone, teasingly flicking the ends of his brush in the spot closest to your underarm.

“Blue? You always look so handsome in every shade of blue, from navy to sky,” you guess.

“Oh, then that shall have to be next,” he lilts, telling you that you have guessed incorrectly.

You mentally flick through some of your favourite of his outfits, squirming slightly at the images you see, his brush still teasing. Then there is a lightbulb moment.

“Burgundy red!” you exclaim, remembering the waistcoat he wore on the day you met, the one that made you lose the power of speech, temporarily tongue-tied, never having seen a man wear such fine silks before.

“Well done, darling,” he compliments.

You open your eyes to see he has interwoven the harmonious shades in an exquisite arching design, truly using your skin as a canvas.

“Now lay still; there is much work still to do,” he instructs softly.

You settle into the chaise, your belly fluttering as he slips lower, daubing your diaphragm in intricate loops, trying to keep your breaths shallow for a still surface. He swaps brush again, back to gold, holding the other in his knuckle, the rich red loaded tip contrasting his pale skin.

When he sinks below your ribs onto your belly, you bite your lip, the light touch tickling you to the point of giggling. You try your best not to move, but when he glides over a sensitive patch, it bubbles out of you on reflex.

His gaze pings up to your face, a lopsided grin claiming his features. “Does that tickle?” he mocks gently. You can only giggle more in reply as he teases even lighter over that weak spot.

“Stop it,” you whisper, knowing how much he enjoys the tease.

“Never,” he responds lightly, lowering his face; you jolt as he lightly bites your bare nipple, and you cry out. “I veritably exist to tease you; you are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pausing in his artistry, pressing you into the chaise with his body weight.

“Look at you,” you giggle as he pulls away again, seeing smears of pain across his chest.

“That is nothing. I expect both of our bodies will be a riot of colours by the time I am done with you, wife.” His tone is simultaneously light with mirth and dark with promise.

“Perhaps you should speed up,” you answer playfully; it may dry before you have the opportunity.” He laughs, teething your other nipple before refreshing the line.

“Not a chance.”

Just as your stomach clenches at the idea he will move lower, he grabs your right arm and concentrates his efforts there as if to elongate the burn of anticipation you feel. It's less ticklish until he swipes the crook of your elbow over your veins, making you giggle again, meeting his hazy blue eyes with an intense stare. Wordlessly he kisses your hand before swapping to your left arm, creating free-hand a mirror image of the pattern on your right. It's striking, and somewhat ironically, you wish there was a portrait of you looking like this, covered in his design.

As you are lost in your reverie of that thought, he slips lower on the chaise, and you gasp as he restarts the line at your middle and swirls down all over your belly. He employs a heavier stroke so as not to tickle as much, alternating the two, holding both brushes with ease between his long artistic fingers. You have to bite back a moan when one swoop goes lower, skating along the top of your pubic hair.

“Open your legs,” his voice low and decadent. Feeling a burning low in your gut, you draw up your knees a few inches and part your legs a fraction, keeping your feet together. “I said…” he grabs your ankle and plants it at the edge of the chaise, out wide, “...open your legs,” his voice dark, making you flush hot.

You meekly move your other foot to match the stance, now lewdly spread before him.

“Much better,” his voice rough as his gaze is heavy on your core. “Do not move,” he commands.

You pant lightly as he resumes, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs. He paints a line from your belly down over your hip and up your thigh. It's the longest he has done, ending with a flourish at your kneecap. Then he swaps the brushes and traces along the same path in the dark red.

“What of the navy blue husband?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even, even though you feel a slight tremble in your body at the contrast of the cool liquid and the warm flush of arousal.

“All in good time. You should not rush an artist at work, darling,” he replies playfully.

“What if your canvas is in need?” you inquire quietly.

“Where does my darling canvas have a need, hmm?” he asks duskily, intentionally acting obtuse even as his breath puffs close to the place you want him the most.

He runs a line achingly slow down your inner thigh, looping under into the crease where your buttock meets your thigh, the odd feeling making goose bumps break out across your surrounding skin, the tilt of his face right above where you burn so hot.

“Here, perhaps?” he whispers, and you cry out as his warm wet mouth opens wide on your folds.

One of your hands shoots down to grasp his hair as he unfurls his tongue, swiping deep into your folds, lapping the overflowing well of moisture there. You stare down the plane of your body, watching the colour on your inner thigh streak across his clavicle and shoulder as he drinks from your body, pulling your pearl between his lips and sucking so hard you see stars. His eyes fly open and hold yours; his gaze is fiery as he swipes under your clitoral hood. His tongue dabs the most sensitive spot, the one that makes your leg want to kick out and go rigid from the intense sensation. Just as you start to writhe and moan, he pulls back. You pout in disbelief as he calmly returns to painting.

“How can you tease me so?!” you lament, chest heaving, hand falling from its grip on his chestnut locks.

He laughs and continues with his art, your concentration barely registering it, your heartbeat throbbing in your abandoned, swollen clit.

“Please, Benedict,” you appeal, absentmindedly watching him switch to the other shade.

It seems he is ignoring you as his brow knits in concentration, glancing at your other leg to ensure, as with your arms, it is an exact mirror. It's undoubtedly stunning, but somehow your interest in it has waned, all of your thoughts of needing his mouth back where it was.

You plead again and almost want to cry in relief as he seems to huff sympathetically and move so his face is again a fraction from where you want him. After one long, indulgent swipe through your soaked folds that has you gasping loudly, he stops, rears up and quickly climbs over your body, his lips landing on yours, damp and tangy with your desire. Shaking with unsated need, you whimper against his musky tongue as he kisses you deeply.

“Please,” your voice has a tremulant quality betraying your need, he has taken you to the edge, and the denial makes you prickle hot all over.

“Soon,” it’s a whispered promise, “your skin is too arresting of a sight flushed like this. I need to paint more upon this gorgeous canvas,” he sighs, leaning over to scoop up his brushes again.

“Benedict, please,” you writhe, letting your legs fall closed, hoping to rub against your clit, eager for stimulation.

“Open your legs,” he tuts as he returns his attention to you, parting your knees carefully with his hands, avoiding his handiwork. “If you keep misbehaving, darling, I shall not let you come,” he warns with an arched brow.

“Then I shall have to touch myself,” you sass, squaring your jaw in defiant playfulness.

“We shall see about that,” he challenges. “Give me your fingers.” Hazy, you allow him to encircle your wrist, only startling when large beads of wetness daub your fingertips. “There we go, navy blue,” he smirks, grabbing your other hand and repeating the action.

You stare at him dumbfounded, realising you cannot touch yourself now without a mess. That smug crooked smile is still there as you watch him crawl slowly between your legs before diving facefirst into you again, making you scream. You want to grip his hair, but with your fingers now dripping with navy, you feel you should refrain. However, when he loops his arms around your hips, you grab his wrists instead as they frame your thighs. Slathering streaks of dark blue on his pale forearms as he lashes you with his tongue, you calling his name.

He is ravenous, using his whole face to arouse your senses, the stubble of his chin abraiding your labia as he once again teases you, suckling your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue in firm strokes, undulating and spearing it just where you need, as if intuiting what you need at any moment, The tip of his nose is burrowed into your patch of hair, inhaling your scent as if he cannot get enough of your taste and smell, his primal behaviour just making your more wanton for him.

He moans, muffled encouragements into your cunt, the cadence vibrating up into your pubic bone. You stare transfixed at him, decadent, delicious, filthy, a debauched and erotic tableau, the skin pulling taunt over his high cheekbones as he consumes you. Just as your pussy starts to flutter, he pulls up and teases you, pursing his lips and blowing a slow puff of air over your overheated pearl. It's not enough and too much all at once, such a different sensation from his lathing tongue. He chuckles as you groan in frustration and grasp his wrists tightly, fingernails digging blue crescents into his flesh, hoping to incite him back into action.

Instead, he shakes off your grip and swiftly stands up and roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers, smirking down at you as you turn breathless again with desire, holding your painted fingers on either side of your head as he drops the fabric. As ever, he is without underwear, and even though his straining cock is a familiar sight, every time, it steals your breath and makes you pulse deep inside, just for him.

He prowls over your prone body, almost cat-like, admiring his handiwork. “You are my masterpiece,” the awed but somehow still achingly seductive tone he employs makes your hips cant up towards him, a reflex, your body seeking his.

Uncaring of the mess it will leave, you run your navy fingertips from his chest to his pelvis, curling a little to scrape your nails into the paint trails. It looks like animal claws—as if you are marking him, possessive. His response is a growl at you, hoisting your legs into the crook of his elbow and with a flash of something primal in his eyes, he surges into your weeping body with one swift thrust.

It makes you call his name. So loudly that you know the staff will hear it throughout the house. You don’t care—don’t care if they come running to check on your welfare and find you naked and decorated, pinned under your husband as he begins to fuck into you, so roughly the whole chaise squeaks and moves across the tiled floor. His body curled over yours, his large hand above your head gripping the raised chaise end for leverage.

Lost in the carnality of how he is taking you, your walls clinging to his plunging cock, you band your arms around him, smearing long finger trails down the contours of his back until you reach his buttocks and squeeze them covetously, encouraging him to push deeper, go harder, and make it hurt. The glorious, intricate pattern on your skin still tacky, causing your flesh to cling to his and smudge together, the blue on him with the gold and burgundy from you. Blotches and smears that look so vibrant on his pale skin.

“Are you close again, my love?” his question, a touch breathless as he thrusts into you.

You hiss your confirmation, eyes rolling as you grasp his cheeks again and force your legs wider, greedy for him, for more. For him to push so far into your body, it will feel like he’s always there, even when he’s not, like some internal tattoo of him carved into your being.

“More Benedict… please,” urgent now. It feels like all you’ve done for hours is plead with him, needing to release so badly your mind feels akin to madness, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched.

But he slows, and you want to scream in frustration, his movements shallow, delicate, not the onslaught you need to take you over the precipice he has dangled you over what feels like countless times.

“I love to see this,” his voice husky, breath puffing hot on your face, “when you are so unbridled with need, darling. I cannot resist taking you so close and denying you: the wild look, your untamed desire. All for me.”

You move your hands from his behind and grab his jaw, uncaring that you plaster his face with blue fingermarks. “It's always for you, just you, Benedict, my love, my life,” you affirm, hoping that is what he needs to hear to finally release you from this heightened state of near delirium.

His responding grin is breathtaking, and he begins to plough into you in earnest, his gaze never leaving yours, eyes burning to witness the moment you break for him. The chaise protests loudly, the wooden feet scraping hard on the floor under his unforgiving pace.

You bite your lip and plead with your eyes, wanting his expert touch to push you over.

“Your fingers, please,” you implore, and suddenly three are shoved between your lips, traces of the bitter taste of paint there, along with the tang of sweat and the flavour that is all him.

“Get them nice and wet, darling,” he lectures, not slowing his pace. You greedily wrap your tongue around his invading digits and slather them in your saliva, drooling around him as his thrusts jolt your entire body. “Yes darling, that's it,” he encourages, and he snarls as you run an edge of teeth over his cuticles, goading him, loving to see him as lost in the potency of the moment as you.

Then with a look that always makes you breathless, he slides the fingers out of your mouth, and they snake between your bodies, finding your engorged clit with ease. You scream his name, and a few harsh flicks are all you need to tip over, clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he roars into your ear as you fracture around him. Waves of pleasure ripple across your body, almost violent, your muscles spasming, your limbs shaking uncontrollably after being denied.

Distantly, as if through cotton wool, you hear him cursing and growling your name, teeth pressing into the cord of your neck as he curls around you with one final jerk and a loud, guttural groan, he stills, his body stiff, a vein pulsing heavily in his neck and forehead as he empties into you, warmth blooming deep inside you as he spills. Shortly after, he collapses onto his forearms, bracketing your body, mindful not to squash you under his weight as he pants, heaving breaths, his chest bumping yours with each ragged inhale.

You don't say words; just trail the remaining blue paint on your fingers across the skin of his shoulders, connecting the collage of freckles there into a slanted star-like shape. Below a certain point, your bodies resemble a rainbow; the detail he built so carefully now merely a smudge of lively streaks.

“Did you enjoy your painting lesson, my love?” his tone whimsical as his breathing returns to normal.

You giggle and push up to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. “You know I did, Mr Bridgerton; you are a wonderful teacher,” you wink; his responding laugh makes your whole body jiggle under him.

“Now to get clean,” he hums drolly, his grin lopsided and winsome. “I believe we may need to share a bath.”

“Or swim in the lake,” you posit jokingly, rolling your head to look out of the large glass panes, down across the moonlit grass to the water beyond. When you tilt your head back, his look is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, and that grin grows wider.

“I love how you think,” he gusts, and you squeal as he scoops you in his arms bridal style, and before you know it, he has elbowed open the French doors and is carrying you to the water’s edge.

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