#is it possible to be in love with a drawing

[shuploc]

Ai art?

Are you fucking joking?

Sorry, no, it is not and I find it so disrespectful you would even think to ask that. I have not and will NEVER touch anything AI related ever in my life, I think it's so utterly pointless and destructive and it frankly makes me wanna kill myself.

So no, it is not and never will be, and you can safely hold that to me for the rest of my existence. I really hope this is the last time someone asks me this.

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what��s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @m3ntally-unstable @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @sorenevans @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378 @angelbabyyy99 @selella @itvy5601 @noonespecial90 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @ordelixx @krispybearbouquet @matchat3a @cl7ire @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @julvrs @anghstybean @eah-marvel-trolls @pono-pura-vida @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

[doctorsiren]

I loved your headcannons about inukawa, reigen and reigens sister and I would really like to see what you think would happen if mob and reigens sister met and I was wondering if you could possibly draw them :D

hello yes I accidentally made a comic after seeing this ask yesterday 😁 bro psychoanalyzed her 😨

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[nayziiz]

Forever | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (she her)

Author's note: Very short, but very soft.

Masterlist

The sun began to set, casting a warm golden tint over the sprawling vineyard that stretched out like a lush, green ocean. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and lavender, mingling with the rich aroma of oak barrels from the nearby winery. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung between the towering olive trees, creating a canopy of stars that shimmered against the dusky sky. 

Guests mingled and laughed, their voices a pleasant hum that blended with the gentle strumming of a guitar from the live band positioned near the rustic, wooden dance floor. The band, dressed in casual, bohemian attire, played a melodic tune that invited everyone to sway and move to its rhythm, including the bridal pair, Pierre and Kika. Elegant tables draped in crisp white linens were scattered around, each adorned with delicate floral centrepieces and flickering candles. A long, beautifully decorated table stood at the heart of the venue, laden with an array of gourmet dishes and fine wines, reflecting the celebratory spirit of the occasion.

Charles stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes fixed on the centre of the activity. There, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the lights, was his partner, dancing with carefree abandon. The music seemed to flow through her, her movements fluid and graceful, her laughter a bright, contagious melody that added to the joy of the evening. She wore a flowing, navy dress with a slight glitter to it that caught the light with every twirl, the fabric rippling like water. Her hair, adorned with a wreath of wildflowers, cascaded down her back in loose waves. There was a radiance about her, a pure, unfiltered joy that made her stand out to him among the other guests. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the kind that made anyone who saw it smile too, spreading happiness like ripples in a pond.

Charles watched her, his heart swelling with love and pride. She moved effortlessly from dance partner to dance partner, drawing everyone into her orbit, making them feel like they were the only person in the world at that moment. Her energy was infectious, her spirit indomitable. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had fallen in love with her – her ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to share that joy with everyone around her, even at their friends’ wedding.

He took a sip of his champagne, savouring the crisp, bubbly liquid as he continued to observe her. She caught his eye and her face lit up even more, if that was possible. She beckoned him with a playful wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Charles couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the warmth of her gaze wash over him. He set down his glass and made his way towards her, weaving through the clusters of guests. As he reached her, she took his hand and pulled him into the dance, her laughter ringing out like music to his ears. He spun her around, the world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the joyful chaos of the wedding celebration.

They moved together, in perfect harmony, their steps synchronised like a practised dance. Charles held her close, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest, matching his own. The world faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them under the canopy of stars and fairy lights.

“How long is forever?” he wondered aloud, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of laughter and music.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. She had been so lost in the moment, twirling in his arms, that his sudden question caught her off guard.

“How long do you think forever is?” he repeated, his gaze drifting towards a newlywed couple dancing nearby. “They promised to love each other forever, so how long is forever?” 

His eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, returned to hers. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she studied his face.

“Are you having some existential crisis, baby?” she teased. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but she could see that his question was genuine, not just a passing thought.

“I'm just curious,” he said, a slight shrug accompanying his words. He looked down, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“I think forever is everything and more,” she began, her voice thoughtful and tender. “It's not just a timeframe, but all the small moments in between. The laughter, the tears, the joy, the sadness, the anger, the patience, the kindness, the forgiveness. It's how even when you're both long gone, your story will still be told and sung, swept away in the wind, etched in the Milky Way, so no one could ever forget it.”

He listened intently, her words resonating deep within him.

“Mmh,” he murmured, letting the weight of her words settle in his heart.

“What? Is that too philosophical for you?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.  He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I think that's exactly what forever is for us,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “You know I'd love you forever and a day.”

“And I'd love you forever and a day, too, baby,” she whispered, her eyes shining with love. She leaned in, their foreheads touching, and in that intimate space, the promise of forever felt as real and as tangible as the stars twinkling above them.

As the song came to an end, she rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. Charles kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes, letting the moment etch itself into his memory. It was a beautiful evening, a perfect celebration of love, and as he held her in his arms, he knew that this was just the beginning of their lifelong dance together.

[hoodedjelly]

Nicktoons unite main 4 in their respected styles ( minus jimmy neutron i'll explain more below)

i feel very mixed about these but it was still fun either way studying all of these cartoons respected styles. the final does make me happy, seeing all of them together ^__^ 💞

below i will explain my thought process working with each style so get ready for a wall of text:

first before anything you may be asking: why no jimmy neutron style!? it's because i tried and gave up! i was starting the rendering process for timmy and i hated it so i just didn't continue! no point of making myself miserable for something thats harmless fun style studies. but have these as a little treat:

Fairly Oddparents style: the easiest style to work on and research for, fop style is not that complex. i should also add i didn't draw each style in one sitting i drew each character together and then edited them all, so that might be the reason why some look better then others, i just got good. but i'm saying that because the character i started with was spongebob! specifically because i was tired of ppl thinking dp style and fop style are the same and how spongebob would look the same in both styles, just a flat square. which is wrong! fop style is very different! i would prob describe it as a flat paper style. has sharp and rounded thick lines. the main source of research i used for it was the designer for fop was Ernie Gilbert. he has designed a lot of iconic characters for the show and i highly would check out his work, this is his website

Danny phantom style: now this one was tricky, prob the hardest one to figure out and i honestly don't think i really DID figure it out. the possible reason is i am still trying to go through the show atm myself, but i'd doubt it. they all just look off to me, just a little. which no need for me to work myself in a circle trying to make it "perfect". im no professional character designer! especially not Stephen Silver.

Spongebob Squarepants style: this one was tricky but in the opposite way to dp style, where i didn't know what to reference! to start off the show is mainly nonhuman characters, so finding character refs were hard. the refs i did use were the mermaids and the superheros, so i used that for timmy. but in the middle of working on jimmys i was watching a video of someone ranking every single spongebob ep and TURNS OUT in the later seasons, i think season 13, there were human designs! (technically elfs but whatever).

and weirder thing is how they draw patchy but im not going to get into that. i am assuming that style is for characters that are supposed to be real life humans up on land in that universe (but why not just use real life humans? idk, maybe tom kenny is getting to old for the role). BUT ANYWAY, i used the elfs for a main source for jimmy and danny, they turned out a lot better then the timmy in my eyes. i wanted at least one of them to have the black eyes but they all have bright blue eyes and the show usually always colors blue eyes. i get ahead of myself cause there was a lot more factors i still had to figure out. like the line art. the show doesn't have a clear line style like dp or fop, its just relatively consistent medium lines. so i just went with more recent show stuff then older stuff since it's HD.

ok but thats basically it, i can prob go on more but i'd feel no one gaf. i made these for fun and it was fun making them! i love all of these shows a ton so it was nice looking up the designers and artist for these shows. support the artists!!! fuck bitch fartman!!!!!

[biolumien]

hi hi!!! i love ur hoshina fics so much wooaagh you write him so well and each fic has me thinking !!!! i like how characterized him here!!!!

this one doesnt have to be an x reader but fans self Wuah id like to ask hoshina + kaiju no. 10 with like a symbiote sorta deal with the combat suit ?! i was rereading the bit when he got deployed with the suit for the first time and their dynamics clashing was so wuoaah and im jus a sucker for vice captain and how cool he is in his suit kw

notes: wahhh!! thank you so much... i have often thought about kaiju no 10 and hoshina as well... i hope this is what you were looking for....!

with 10

not quite an x reader. a reader is barely mentioned... hm. there's a bit of phrasing that can come off as ideation kaiju no 8 spoilers, too! word count: 911

there’s something different about you.

hoshina’s brow furrows when he hears the voice of kaiju no. 10 sneering in his head. as he grew to synchronize with the suit more and more, he found that the suit almost seemed to sink into his skin, form a secondary membrane around him, the almost scorpion-like tail as natural as anything. 

“i don’t know what you mean.”

you know exactly what i mean.

back when you fought me last, you were just like me.

swept up in it all.

hoshina remembers. fighting kaiju no. 10 was difficult, brutalizing–horrible. out loud, he’d said he’d never want to fight a numbered kaiju like that one-on-one again. but, in his head–it was exhilarating in a way that he’d never be able to describe in words without sounding insane. it was the adrenaline, right? it was the adrenaline, the blood-pumping feeling of finally being alive in a fight.

no. 10 had been right.

there was nothing quite like fighting an enemy that was just as powerful as you–or possibly more powerful, even by a fraction. it was that constant back and forth that got the blood pumping, made you feel truly alive. hoshina knew it well. every fight he lunged into against a bigger, tougher kaiju was him throwing all his chips onto the betting table, a smile on his face as he declared himself all in.

he’d said he’d never do it again.

and yet he’d donned kaiju no.10 like this for the express purpose of fighting more numbered kaiju. 

and it was horrifying how comfortable the suit was. how in sync he could be with kaiju no. 10. he focuses, commanding kaiju no. 10 to coalesce around his hands–and the suit responds, shifting across his body to form concentrated, claw-like shapes. it felt right, like he and kaiju no. 10 were always the same person.

he laughs.

he’d be just like kafka if he thought that.

“i can still be swept up in all of it.”

hoshina’s voice wavers at the last second, and he winces. 

you lie.

kaiju no. 10 doesn’t sound angry.

it was cliche to say it sounded disappointed, but that’s what it seemed to be. quietly, quietly disappointed. as quiet as an angry, speaking kaiju could be. the kaiju’s intent pulsed across his arms, and hoshina watches as his hand moves upwards, flexing his fingers for him. he can hear kaiju no. 10’s quiet displeasure.

hoshina should be terrified that kaiju no. 10 had such control over his body like this–two beings sharing the same body, practically, each fighting for control of his form. 

but he was calm. all too calm. 

there’s something else in your heart now. it’s not the thrill of the fight anymore. 

you didn’t care about anything else before.

but now you’re worried. you’re worried about coming out of this alive.

“you’re saying i can’t value my life?” hoshina draws his katana, feeling the weight of it. it almost feels alive in his palms, humming with electricity as the suit responds, pulsing with power. he can almost feel kaiju no. 10 burying its way deeper into him, pulling into his chest, trying to find the thing that’d make him tick. and he watches as his hand does the same, moving towards his chest.

you don’t value your own life.

kaiju no. 10’s voice was frank.

i felt that. your revulsion at me saying the truth. but it’s true. you don’t value your own life. why else would you search so fucking desperately for something that proved you alive? you swing the sword because you know it’s fun. because it makes the blood run through your muscles, expands your lungs. it’s as easy as the most fun breath you can take.

but that’s not my point.

kaiju no. 10–soshiro hoshina’s–hand presses at his chest.

something else beats here.

you want to live. not because you think you need to.

but because you don’t want to hurt the one person you love more than anything else.

“...”

you’d even give up fighting for them. isn’t that so?

“that’s not true.”

but it is.

hoshina’s heart pounds.

it was true. when he thought of fighting, he thought of your face. he’d wonder what you’d say if he showed up in front of you littered with wounds, and the terrifying thought of appearing as an unmarked corpse in front of you terrified him beyond all words.

but mark my words, hoshina. you and i are the same. so believe me when i say, you’d find a white-picket fence life boring. devoid of all value and color.

but i’m fucking stuck with you.

kaiju no. 10’s voice is venomous.

“hoshina.”

okonogi’s voice sounds in his ear.

“you’re deploying.”

“you hear that?” hoshina says to kaiju no. 10, trying to keep the panic out of his voice–the utter and sheer panic that he had been found out completely, all his secrets laid bare and open for the taking. “we’re going.”

fine.

hoshina couldn’t get used to it, kaiju no. 10’s form rippling across his, lines of muscle and sinew forming atop his own arms, crawling across his torso. it was like diving underwater–but not into a pool, where you could at least see the bottom–no. this was diving right into an ocean canyon, only being able to trust your own strength to pull yourself back out. 

but someday you’re going to come back to this conversation.

and you’re going to realize that i’m right.

[strwberri-milk]

love and deepspace guys with reader having panic attacks? never seen one so far, in desperate need :_) maybe how they find out, too. Zayne is probably the best with it because they're often associated with a heart attack... so hearing "it's not, I promise" will definitely put reader at ease. Rafayel probably hums something. a lullaby. idk. god i need him. anyways, it's up to you decide! ty in advance 🩷(eng isn't my native! sorry if it's messy)

Zayne definitely recognises your symptoms right away, familiar with seeing anxiety attacks in the hospital. His first response is of course wanting to make sure you're not actually having a heart attack with the overlap of symptoms and also knowing that if that's where your mind is going then watching him diagnose you on the spot will help you calm down a little bit.

Once he affirms that it's not a heart attack he starts trying to soothe you. He tries to ask what the best way for him to help would be, keeping his voice even in your ear. It's a welcome distraction as you reach out for him, wanting him to hold you as tightly as possible. He obliges without hesitation and you're almost a little confused about why he's so strong but it doesn't matter.

He'll keep his arms around you, doing some exercises with you to distract you from your current state of mind. He's already got a good idea of what you're supposed to do when someone has a panic attack and is definitely applying that to you but watching you cry and shake hurts him more than you could ever imagine. He does his best not to let his own concern for you shine into his words, wanting to stay strong for you.

Xavier isn't sure right away what's happening. All he knows is that you're not doing okay and you need him right now and so that's what he's going to do. He holds your hands, trying to get you to look at him and talk to him. If you're inconsolable and unable to look at him then he's going to gather you up in his arms, brushing his hand against your cheek and holding you close to him.

He keeps you against his chest, hoping the abnormally slow beating of his heart is enough to bring you down from your emotional high. His palm rests against the side of your face, gently rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

He gives you space to slowly work through your feelings, waiting until you finally come down. He doesn't rush you, simply sitting silently with you the entire time. He's figured that you're having a panic attack and for now all he can offer is his patience. When you've calmed down enough to talk to him he wants to hear all about the things you're worrying about so that it doesn't overwhelm you again to such an extent.

Rafayel's response to hearing your distress is also to immediately hold you. When he realises that you're having a panic attack he draws back from you, shushing you a little to give you another sound to focus on as he grabs your hands. He encourages you to meet his gaze, smiling softly at you as he starts to hum.

You're a little taken back by the absurdity, not noticing the calming effect it's already having on your body. You're not sure if it's because it's a Lemurian thing or just the sound of his voice is that comforting to you but it's quickly working.

When he feels your grip on his hands slacken a little, eyelids drooping he takes that as his signal to pick you up and carry you to bed, still singing to you softly. He drops you off in bed gently, burying his face in your neck and keeping you close to him as you fall asleep in his arms. He keeps watch over you, making a mental note to talk to you about everything that was weighing on your mind.

[paranoiastudio]

My dear friend

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

warnings: +18 smut, virginity loss, p in v, dirty talk, masturbation, oral (m for f), creampie

word count: 2,5k

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

All mothers say that choosing a profitable match is extremely important for any lady. Your mother always said that strong love is built on friendship and mutual respect between people. You believed that marriage is not as important as many people think and always called yourself different, unable to become a victim of this system.

- You’re so beautiful... - The words that escaped Benedict’s lips make you tremble in his arms. - I am the happiest men in the world, my love.

This evening you agreed to his proposal to marry him. When you first met Benedict Bridgerton at the ball last season, you never thought it would go this far. At first you saw him as a pleasant companion and a strong figure who could protect you from annoying gentlemen.

Once upon a time, the mere thought of a man touching you caused an unpleasant shiver. And now you are lewdly clinging to Benedict and reaching out for another kiss, wanting to get as much as possible.

- Little greedy thing... - Benedict bites your earlobe. - You have no idea how many things I would like to do with you, but we won’t do that today.

- Why? - You’re breathing heavily, your chest is heaving, the skin that’s not covered by the fabric of your dress is a little red. - I want you, Benedict.

A muffled moan reaches your ears and you feel the weight of his desire through the fabric of your clothes, Bridgerton presses against your thigh, shamefully rubbing himself against you.

You saw ancient statues and paintings, looked at the drawings in your father’s medical atlases, but you still felt unprepared for what nature gave you.

- You are teasing me. - Benedict’s lips find yours again and you shamelessly allow him to penetrate your mouth with his tongue, his beautiful hand wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you closer. - How about an engagement gift, my dear?

You just nod vigorously, unable to say a word. Benedict smiles, accepting your answer, and, taking your hand, leads you a little deeper into the garden labyrinth, where no one will see you.

Finding a beautiful carved shop in a dark corner, Bridgerton plops down in the middle and pulls you towards him. You, holding your dress, sit on top of him, your pussy squeezing at the feeling of his strong and warm thigh, which twitched slightly and sent sparks to the very center of your arousal.

- Show me how much you want... I must to see... - You look into the man’s eyes and believe that he needs it. He appears ill: he is breathing deeply, his hair is tousled, and his vest is unbuttoned. He looks at you with dark and shiny eyes, moving his worried gaze over your face.

- What do I need to do? - You knew that Benedict is clearly much more experienced in this matter. Your words sent a jolt of excitement through Benedict’s already hard cock, you looked so innocent and slutty at the same time.

He helps you lift up all your skirts and get rid of your underwear, with a slow movement he sits you back on his thigh and you moan, feeling the thick fabric of your pants with your naked pussy.

-You can ride me, honey. Fuck yourself on my leg. - Your body seems to know what needs to be done and you move your hips immediately, clinging your sore clitoris to your trousers. - Oh, my girl...

Benedict wraps one arm around your waist, the other holding your hip and helping you catch the pace. Your thighs quickly begin to burn from the unusual position, but you cannot stop, looking into the face of your beloved man, who caught your every breath and moan.

- Nice job on hips, miss. - Benedict smiles and lifts the dress higher, exposing your most intimate parts to the cold evening air.

- God, I... - You feel a familiar feeling inside, you’ve already experienced this before, the same feeling appeared when you touched yourself at night.

Knowing how good it will be, you speed up and moan from the tension throughout your body. Benedict watches where your bodies touch, your juices staining his pants, but he doesn't care; you moan and squirm on him in the dark corner of the garden, but he doesn’t care; he's ready to cum in his pants at any moment, but he doesn't care.

- The Lord will forgive me for this weakness, right, my girl? - Benedict reaches out and touches your clit terribly slowly, watching your beautiful eyes widen. - You are the most beautiful sin that one can succumb to.

The feeling of someone else's hand is completely different: Benedict touches you lightly and carefully, studying you. His fingers are much thicker and longer than yours, and they flutter as quickly as when he draws. The thought that you are like his creation only excites you even more.

- God, what are you doing to me? - Benedict accelerates the movement on the clitoris and you scream, the echo of your scream will forever remain in this garden labyrinth.

What are you doing with it? You're now chasing your orgasm, rubbing yourself on the thigh of someone who isn't even your husband yet, nearly naked and so loud you'd think you wanted to get caught. And Benedict asks what are you doing with him? What is this man doing to you?!

- Please... - You don’t know what you’re asking for, only squeezing Benedict’s shoulders tighter.

-Are you close? - He leans forward and wraps both arms around you. -Cum for me, darling. Cum on my leg, show me.

You whimper and suddenly freeze for a second, only to shudder in the next moment and several more times run your womb dripping with lubricant over the expensive fabric, the stains on which cannot be unnoticed.

- It was... - You open your eyes and still see flashes before your eyes. This is much stronger than the times when you touched yourself; Next to Benedict you are like an exposed nerve, sensitive to everything in the world.

- Magical. - The man kisses you on the corner of your lips, takes you off his leg and straightens your outfit. -You did so well, my girl.

You giggle, hiding your red face from embarrassment and excitement on Benedict’s shoulder. He holds you in his arms and gently strokes you until you stop shaking.

- When I did it myself, the feelings were different... - You look at the stars, playing with your gloved fingers with Benedict’s fingers.

- Did you do it yourself? - You hear the smile in his voice. - Mrs. Bridgerton, you surprise me. On our wedding night you will show me everything, understand?

- You can’t imagine how amazing you look now. - You hear Benedict as if from under water, you’re so carried away.

Having promised you that you would show him how you played with yourself, he wasn’t joking at all. As soon as your husband undressed you in what is now your shared bedroom, he remembered his words and now you are lying naked on the large bed and caressing your slippery folds, allowing Benedict to see absolutely everything.

- Fuck! - You squeeze your bare chest. The orgasm is so close and you intend to catch it, after such an exhausting and long day, you wanted to get a release as quickly as possible.

- My dear wife is angry... - Benedict licks his lips and crawls closer to you. - This is unacceptable.

Grabbing your hips, Benedict slams into your wet pussy and hums lowly, caressing you so intensely that you don’t even have time to warn him and cum on the man’s face so hard that your toes involuntarily curl.

- I didn’t even have time to really touch you. - The man chuckles, collecting droplets of your excitement on his finger. - You are so sensitive, my dear, tempting you will be a real pleasure.

- No, please, I want it so much... - You almost choke on your saliva, afraid that Benedict will really decide to mock you.

- Don't worry so much. - He ends up on top and deftly spreads your legs with his knee. When did he take off his clothes? You wanted to do it yourself, but it seems like you really lost track of time. - Today I will make you mine, we will have time to play another day, right?

You hug your husband with all your limbs and raise your hips, not at all afraid of what is about to happen. The maids and married friends shared some details, but the overall image was still a little blurry. You knew only one thing for sure: you have never wanted to do this with anyone more than now with Benedict Bridgerton, your new husband.

- You may be hurt, my love. I don’t... - Benedict leans on his elbows. - I won’t be able to take this pain for myself, but I promise that this won’t happen again.

You nod as if you completely understood what he was talking about, and Benedict, trying not to frighten you with the expectation, thrusts his hips forward, penetrating almost completely inside. Your nails dig into his thin skin on his shoulders, you squeeze your whole body, only then realizing that it would be easier to relax.

-Are you okay? - Benedict freezes the moment you look up at him again. He haven't seen eyes full of love and tenderness more than yours.

- Everything is fine, just a little unpleasant. - You exhale through your nose and completely relax. - Are you in pain?

There was sweat on Benedict's forehead, he hadn't moved since he was inside you. You run your hand through his soft hair and the man reaches for your touch and moans softly.

- Not at all. - He places a light kiss on your forehead and moves his pelvis slightly. - It’s so nice inside you that I’m afraid I won’t last long.

The meaning of his words, like many other words that described the relationship between a man and a woman, was not entirely clear to you, but the tone in which he spoke to you made you tremble.

- Ooo! - You squeeze Benedict and he can’t help but sigh with pleasure. - You will destroy me.

You pull your husband to you and kiss him passionately, repeating the movements with your tongue that you managed to remember during the many kisses that you shared before.

- Tell me if it hurts, okay? - He will receive confirmation from you, Benedict makes several shallow thrusts and you both feel how your velvet walls stretch, letting the man in deeper.

- You can move faster. - You catch your husband’s gaze and move closer to his movements. It’s like a wave that energetically but gently washes you, the sandy shore, from all sides. - Please make me yours, Benedict.

These words and your big innocent eyes made Bridgerton growl with desire, he increases the speed, penetrating into you faster and faster, touching more and more new points.

You hear your bodies touching wet slaps and groan dully, feeling something familiar and at the same time completely unknown. You never ended up with something (or someone) inside.

- Benedict, I...

- It's okay, my love. Just let go, I'm holding you. - You look into his eyes until they close with pleasure. Squeezing Benedict's cock felt amazing, you could feel your pussy literally singing around him and trying to milk him for every last drop.

- Please! Forgive me, fill me, I want more... - You push the sticky hair out of your face and spread your legs wider, allowing your husband to rub your clitoris with his free hand.

- Yes? - Benedict doesn’t stop, wanting to give you the most wonderful first time he could ever have. - Do you want me to fill you, sweet girl? Do you want to give birth to my child?

- More than anything else, please... - You meow and squeeze your chest, trying to ease this overwhelming tension. - I want to cum so bad!

- Come on baby, get my dick wet. - These dirty words made your pussy clench again and this moment became your death. The wave engulfed you, knocking you off balance until you lost your vision. You scream and squeeze Benedict so tightly that marks from your nails will probably appear on his shoulders.

Before you have time to recover from this state, Benedict picks you up and puts you on all fours, eagerly examining the view in front of him. Your plump and wet pussy throbbed invitingly in front of him and the man was not ready to retreat.

Leaning forward, he wraps his lips around your bud and sucks on the hot flesh. You suddenly kick and only slam your sweet pussy harder into the man’s face. He takes your ass, holding you and spreading your buttocks to the sides, plays with you with his tongue and you make a new batch of indecent sounds.

- The most beautiful woman in the world. - Benedict changes position and enters you from behind, immediately picking up a wild pace. You feel his balls slapping against your thighs, Benedict penetrates you with loud pops, your leaking pussy wets him every minute, easing the friction.

- Benedict, this is so good... - Saliva dripping onto the expensive sheets, you pressed your face against the cool fabric and only accepted your husband’s large cock, which moved behind you at an unrelenting pace.

- I'll cum inside you, my dear. I will fill you with my seed... - Ben grabs you by the throat and forces you up, his hand continues to move down. - Right here.

He wraps his large hand around you and rubs your clit again, catching your pathetic whimpers in his kiss. You jump up and down in anticipation, wanting to get everything he promises you. You want everything!

- You’ll be swollen with my baby, and when your beautiful pussy is rested, I’ll fuck another baby inside you. I will fuck you every day, wherever you want. Would you like it?

- Y-yes, please.

- That's right, my little slut. Only mine! - Ben squeezes your waist tighter, you feel that his thrusts are not so accurate and fast, he was close. - Come on, sweetie, take it all like a good girl.

Warm cum coats you from the inside, you hear the squelching sound with which Ben continued to take you, pushing the cum back inside.

You fall face first into the bed, your ass left in the air and you feel the remnants of your passion running down your leg. Benedict strokes your back and helps you sit down on the bed, remaining next to you.

- When can we do this again? - And again you look at Benedict with your huge eyes, batting your eyelashes as if you weren’t just screaming under him like a whore, ready to let Bridgerton fill you in any way he wants.

- I will need a little time. - Ben laughs, playing with your thin hand. - We have the whole night ahead of us, and I still have so much to show you.

- My cousin told me that I can put you in my mouth. Will you let me?

- God! - Benedict ends up on top of you and kisses you. - You're just a treasure.

[artfight]

Hi, very sorry to bother, but I would lile to know if there is a way to make a plan of mine happen.

One of my characters is the quintessential childhood OC: he's cool in all the ways a 10 year old would like. He is a meta character in the sense that his story/background is about him being aware that he is a character that was redesigned to be less "cringe" and he is very, very frustrated with his creator being so affected by peer pressure. His story is thus about growing up, but never losing the parts of yourself that you love. He has, to me, become a celebration of being true to oneself and one's creative visions. :)

The question here is thus: I would like to encourage people to draw my character interacting with their own childhood OCs and having a good time :). Is that possible, according to the rules, for an artist to draw their own character? And if so, is there a way for them to get points for their OC since they will be drawing two characters? Should I organize, like, a chain of people to all draw one other persons' OC in a sort of collaborative mass attack? I don't want to get in trouble for point farming or anything, but I thought this idea was really really cute :).

Your own characters are allowed in attacks as long as others' characters are the main focus. You can also submit your own characters to the attack submission form for points, though be sure to rate them correctly!

If I am understanding you correctly, chaining attacks (draw my OC with one of yours and pass it on) is allowed.

[desi2go]

Prince and Princess

pairings: Prince Bang Chan x princess reader

Warnings: forced marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, slight angst

summary: When your parents engaged you with the prince of a neighbouring country, you flee. On your way you meet a handsome man...

Being a princess wasn't easy. Sure it had it's peaks. The beautiful dresses, never having to worry about anything and so much more. That's what you thought growing up. What you didn't realised that you lived in a golden cage with gold, power and everything you could wish for.

You were used to all the attention from a young age. The people in you land always turned their eyes to you. As a child, they loved seeing you by the side of your parents, even if it was just in a carriage. You always had multiple duties and that from the beginning. However, as a child, they were less noticeable and while growing up, they became more and more visible. You used to think that the big castle was a symbol of your freedom since you loved to run through the huge corridors. But it changed to a big cage in your eyes. You were always under the strict eyes of your parents, not letting you do something that you liked even if only the staff would notice it. It was your personal cage and you were the lion, the biggest attraction, running from one site to another without escaping it.

From the beginning you were born, it was clear that you would marry someone with importance and wealth to bring honour to your family. Therefore, love wasn't relevant. Especially, since your older brother was next in line to become king. You had hoped that your parents would give you more time, time in their cage without a husband that wouldn't love you. A marriage would just draw more attention towards you and a new cage would imprison you.

It was this morning where they introduced you to the news that they have found the perfect husband for you. He was from the neighbouring country and was three years older than you. He was the prince and because of that extremely wealthy. All your parents ever wanted. His name is Prince Christopher and they told you that yesterday, he asked for your hand and in exchange he would give them money.

You had hoped that a marriage would be far away in the future but hearing that someone wanted you as a wife made you anxious. Fortunately he wasn't an old man and just three years older than you. But still, you had never met him. He could be cruel and treat you badly.

But you wouldn't let it take that far. You decided to take your destiny in your own hand. At night, you grabbed a bag with food you had stolen earlier and a brown cape from your brother. Dressed in a plain brown dress, the simplest of your dresses, you climbed out of your window. You knew exactly when the soldiers would change the shifts and took the opportunity to climb up the wall, shielding the castle from the outside.

With quick steps, you ran through the night. You needed to get as far away as possible. The maids would find your bed cold in the morning and it wouldn't be long when the soldiers were commanded to search for you. You just paused for some minutes from time to time. You would sleep a bit when the sun was rising.

Around the afternoon, you finally let yourself rest for longer. You just entered another forest and you realised that sooner or later your food will run out. You really needed to go to the next market on the next day.

Walking through the forest, you tried to avoid any streets as best as you could. By all costs, you didn't want to get recognised from anyone. It was the next morning and it was already hot. The sun shone through the leaves of the trees and you hummed to yourself. You loved the nature, it made you feel free. Something you barely felt in the castle. Of course, sleeping on the ground was no comparison to the huge bed that you owned but you were willing to trade it against a life with freedom.

Branches cracked and at first you thought that it was just a dear but just seconds later, a horse came crashing through the woods. A man sat in the saddle, wearing simple armour and a black cape. His dark hair was lightened by the sun. His horse stopped in front of you. Judging by his plain armour he wasn't a soldier, especially not from the palace.

"Good morning, miss" he said, jumping off the horse to kiss your hand like a gentleman. However, he doesn't seem to recognise you.

"Good morning as well" you answered. His curious gaze observing you and eying you from head to toe.

"What do they call you?" He asked with a friendly smile, while patting the shoulder of the horse.

"Nevermind what they call me"

"You shouldn't be this deep in the forest alone" he stated.

You chuckled. "I'm not alone, I'm with you. Mister... What do they call you?" He was sweet when he returned your smile, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"You don't know who I am? That is... They call me Chan" he answered.

"Well, then nice to meet you, Chan" you said with a smile.

"So, do I get the pleasure to know your name?"

"I'm Y/n" You liked how he looked at you. All your life you were used to the same ways how people look at you. They are envious or angered for not living in wealth like you. But Chan was the first person to look at you like you weren't a princess. Like you were a living human being and not just a figure your parents could push around.

"Y/n, a beautiful name to a beautiful lady" he practised your name, his cheeks and ears turning red as he flirted with you. And you found it absolutely adorable.

"What are you doing in the forest?" He added.

"I'm just wandering around. What about you? You don't seem like a normal villager." You tried to distract yourself from the blush that crept up your face.

"I'm hunting." he exclaimed and held his bow higher. Right, that made sense, he is a hunter.

"Then, you might know where the next village is?" you asked, fiddling with your cape.

"Of course" he grabbed the rein of the horse and signaled you to follow him. It was nice that he showed you the way. He filled the silence with a comfortable conversation, earning from time to time a laugh from you.

♕✯♛

An hour and a half later, you reached the next village. It was small but extremely beautiful. Luckily, there was a market where you could purchase some food. By that time, you had already figured that you had crossed the border to the neighbouring country. They all eyed Chan respectfully with a smile.

However, the hunter still accompanied you, leading you to the best stand in the whole market, like he said. After buying something, you sat with him on a wooden bench, munching happily the food. Calm, you observed the crowd of people, pushing themselves to the dedicated stand.

Then, you noticed to figures, they were soldiers with the emblem of your royal family. They definitely searched for you. In panic, you jumped up, gabbing your stuff.

"What are you-" Chan couldn't even finish his sentence when you pulled him behind one of the stands. He came crashing down on the ground next to you, looking at you like you were crazy.

You observed the crowd once more and the two soldiers were still there.

"Are these soldiers searching for you?" Chan asked as he followed your glance. When you didn't answer he continued. "They are from the other country! Wow, what did you do to the royal family that they are searching that drastically for you?"

"Did you murder someone? That's why you were so deep in the forest!" He exclaimed. Before he could say more, you silenced him with pushing your hand on his mouth.

"Stay quiet!" you whispered. His lips were warm and even though you tried to prevent it, you blushed slightly. You felt his warm gaze on you. But you looked over the stand once more, unfortunately to the wrong time. One of the soldiers saw your face and pointed to you to show his mate.

"Shit." You mumbled, throwing the hood of your cape over your head, and running into a smaller street.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" Chan yelled behind you. It didn't matter where you ran to, just away from the soldiers. You followed the street, turned left into another one. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. That was it, there was nowhere you could go.

"What is wrong, y/n? Why are you running from them?" Chan's concerned face was pushed into your field of vision. You were still gasping for air due to the running. But you heard the steps loud and clear. You couldn't fight your destiny.

And then, they stood before you. It was like you faced your past, the silver armour sparkling in the sun.

"There you are, princess! Your parents have been worried sick." They walked towards you.

"Princess?" You heard Chan whisper. It was clear that he was hurt. Of course. He didn't know who you were. You didn't turn around because you didn't want to see his face fall. "I'm sorry, Chan" you mumbled and followed the soldiers.

♕✯♛

"What were you thinking young lady! Someone could have recognised you!" Your mother scolded. You stood in the throne room, your parents sitting ahead of you on their throne, staring down at you.

"What would your fiancée say? The honour of our family rises or falls with your actions. And you will marry him, there is no other way" your father added. Of course, they were just worried about the honour, not about you. Well, maybe they were but the throne and their reputation was way more important.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled, just wanting to get this over fast so that you could enjoy the last day here in your room alone. Tomorrow, you'll be on your way to your future husband, to his castle.

"You should be. Go, and pack your last things together" your father demanded. You nodded and left the throne room, walking through the numerous halls to reach your room. It was almost empty, the maids already packed most of the things, just the bed and a book that a friendly maid sneaked in.

Your parents hated it when you read. In their eyes, women shouldn't read literature because it made them too powerful. In the royal families, women are just important to bear children and to make sure the bloodline will continue.

In your eyes it was bullshit. When your husband dies and the children aren't old enough to reign, the wife will lead until the oldest takes over.

The next day, you just sat in the carriage, looking out in the wilderness. You would give anything to be out there again. Your parents sat in front of you, chattering about the upcoming wedding, your wedding. It will be the biggest event of the year.

Luckily, after your wedding, they will return to their palace and leave you alone. Then, you just had your husband that will disturb your peace.

It was like a journey into the unknown. You knew nobody there and even your husband was a stranger. In Addition, you didn't know anything about the life in a marriage. Your parents just told you that you need to consummate the marriage whatever that meant. But you'll know soon.

Exactly three day later, you arrived at the palace. It was huge, even bigger than your own. You were content to finally get out of the carriage. Your parents were annoying and a carriage hadn't much place to avoid them.

They were the first to leave it and were already greeting the royal family. With one last deep breath, you stepped out gracefully, all the eyes on you. The beautiful red dress fell around your legs, fluttering in the soft wind. You bowed respectfully to king and queen before turning to your future husband. When you locked eyes, your breath hitched. The stranger wasn't so unknown. It was Chan.

You froze, still don't believing who stood in front of you. Your mother coughed lightly, pulling your out of your rigidity. Quickly, you bowed to him. He took your hand and placed a tender kiss on it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, princess y/n" he greeted, his voice still the same, yet he looked completely different. That was who he really was. Not a hunter, he was prince Christopher.

"The joy is all mine, prince Christopher" you emphasized his name. In his eyes sparkled something else, maybe regret?

The next two hours were spend setting up your room. You're not going to lie, it was beautiful, twice as big as yours in your own palace with a huge balcony.

A knock interrupted you. Slowly, you opened the door, already knowing who is behind it.

"Hello prince" you greeted him while doing a curtsies.

"May you want to join me on a stroll through the garden?" He asked, his eyes wandering through the room.

"Of course." You followed him through the palace out to the massive garden, a chaperone always behind you. The way there was plagued with silence, uncomfortable for both of you.

With your hand, you brushed over the gorgeous flowers, distracting you.

"I'm sorry for not telling you" He whispered. Bluntly, you answered. "Why? I was a stranger. I had no right to know"

"Listen, y/n" he grabbed your hand so that you couldn't turn away from him. "You had every right to know. I - Sometimes, I like to keep my identity hidden. It gives me some sort of comfort"

"I understand. I don't like the attention either." You replied, quietly enjoying the warm skin on your cold hand. "You're cold. May we go inside?"

You just nodded, letting him guide you back in.

♕✯♛

The following day, your wedding day, you woke up early. Well, your mother with the maids teared you from sleep. She wanted that you looked stunning and perfect for the biggest event of the year. With great precision, they arranged your hair in an extravagant updo, putting every single strand of hair the way they were pleased.

Hours were spend on dressing you in the big fluffy dress made from the finest silk with the most expensive gemstones. It was beautiful but constrictive. You are glad when this is finally over. The shoes were uncomfortable and the makeup felt heavy on your skin.

You were brought downstairs, waiting for the right moment to walk down the aisle. The throne room was filled with important people from different countries, mostly royalties or noblemen. You heard the chattering while the small orchestra played. A bouquet of flowers was placed in your hand and the doors opened. Every person watched you walking down the aisle, you felt their gaze on you but you concentrated on Chan. He looked absolutely handsome in his pompous suit, his hair perfectly styled.

You grew more and more nervous the smaller the distance between you and your new life got. You stood next to him when the priest spoke about marriage, you didn't listen to him, completely zoned out. "Prince Christopher Bang, will you love, respect and protect Princess Y/n? Will you also swear eternal fidelity to her, then answer with yes, I do."

He looked you deep in the eyes, took the ring and gently put it on your finger.

"Princess Y/n, will you love, respect and protect Princess Y/n? Will you also swear eternal fidelity to her, then answer with yes, I do." You took a deep breath before you replied with a Yes, I do.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife" Tenderly, he grabbed your hands before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. It was short and sweet, his velvety lips felt good on yours.

The people cheered and you blushed, remembering where you were. Hand in hand, you walked into the huge ballroom where you would celebrate, the guest following you. The room was filled with laughter. Your husband roamed through the crowd, speaking with the guests. You stood by the food, occasionally stealing small bites. You always hated events like these. Especially the men would follow you like dogs, asking for your attention due to your high standing. Luckily, you were now married so that most of them feared to come up to you.

It didn't take long before the first couples started dancing to the orchestra. You knew that you needed to dance at least once to keep your mother content. And Chan already came towards you, asking for a dance. You took his hand, letting him lead you to the middle. You knew the steps, it was something your mother had reached you from a young age, still, you were nervous. His hand felt hot on your waist, even through the fabric of the dress.

Steady, he lead you to the rhythm of the music. The whole time, you stared on his chest, not trying to keep eye contact.

"Everything alright?" He whispered into your ear. "I guess so" you answered. "You hate attention and crowds, right?"

"Yeah, is it that obvious?" He chuckled. "Only a bit."

"You don't seem to care the attention"

"Well, I'm the crown prince. I grew used to it and once I'm king it will be even more" That's right. He was the crown prince, meaning that you will be queen one day.

After your dance with your husband, your father took the chance to dance with you. Then, many men followed his example. Due to the horrible shoes, your feet hurt. You already wanted to flee from the dance floor when Chan's father asked. He was a great dancer like his son.

"I'm content that you will be on my son's side from now on" he starts a conversation, letting you twirl. "I'm honoured, great king. But why, when I'm allowed to ask."

"Chan most likely overworks himself. He doesn't need just a wife to reinsure that the bloodline will continue. He needs someone who takes care of him" you were shocked that he answered you so truthfully. "I'll do my best"

"I know that. That's why I chose you. And I'm content to consider you a part of the family"

When the event came slowly to an end, your mother pushed you in your room.

"Alright. It is time to consummate the marriage. Bring honour to the family" she said. The maids freed you from the dress and shoes. You sighed, now your a little bit more comfortable.

"What do you mean with consummating, mother?"

"Just let him do. He'll know. But it's important to consummate. Otherwise the marriage isn't fully complete." They opened the updo of your hair, letting it fall to your shoulder before brushing it through. Then, they put it up again and dressed you in another dress, a light blue one that fell to the floor in gentle waves from the waist down.

Your mother lead you out of your room down the hallway, stopping in front of a door. "Remember, do not bring shame on us" she whispered before she left. With a shaky breath, you knocked on the huge wooden door. Shuffling could be heard from the other side and a muffled "Come in".

Slowly, you entered the room. It seems to be Chan's bedroom. And it was huge. The room was lightened with the fireplace, turning everything into a yellowish colour. Chan sat on an armchair, flipping through a book. The pompous suit was replaced with a white chemise and comfortable linen trousers. He looked up when you stood beside him, fiddling with your fingers.

"I'm here to consummate our marriage" you mumbled, observing the fluffy carpet. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I know"

He guided you to the bed, jumping on it and letting you sit next to him. It was awkward and uncomfortable. He grabbed something from the side table, something you couldn't make out due to the low light. Just when he flipped the thing, you noticed what it was. A dagger, a small but sharp dagger. Terrified, you pushed yourself to the edge.

"What are you doing?" You shrieked. He chuckled before pushing his chemise higher to show his free underarm. "You don't have the slightest clue what consummating means, right?" Chan placed the dagger on his arm, applied pressure and cut through his skin. He moaned in pain and held the cut over the white mattress. The red blood dropped from his arm on the mattress, a strong contrast to the white.

"What are you doing?" You asked again. You couldn't turn your eyes away from his red underarm. He threw the dagger on the side table, picking up a bandage.

"I faked our consummation. What else do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Why did you fake it?" Carefully, he bandaged himself.

"Because we are not ready yet. It should be fun and done out of freedom and will, not because of the stupid consummation. You don't even know what I'm talking about." He sighed, switching off the oil lamp, turning the room nearly completely dark.

"Lay down, y/n. I'm not gonna force you to do anything that you don't want. Having sex is something where both parties should have fun, not just the man" Obedient, you layed down next to him.

"What is sex? Is this what consummating is about?"

"Yes, it is. I'll insert myself into you. That way you'll be able to get pregnant" Even though it was dark, you could still clearly see how red his ears were. It was cute.

"Thank you" you mumbled, letting you slowly relax and enjoy the warmth that Chan radiates. Carefully, he draped the blanket over your figure.

"Good night, y/n"

"Good night, Christopher"

♕✯♛

The next morning you woke up when the wooden door banged open with a thud. You shot up, looking with big eyes into your mother's. Just then you noticed that Chan wasn't sleeping next to you. He must have got up early.

Your mother shoved the warming blanket to the side, showing you a pleasant smile when she saw the red stain upon the mattress. "I'm proud of you" she said and brushed over your demolished hair. Quickly leaving the room.

You sighed and let yourself fall against the mattress again. The ring on your finger shone in the morning sun, it was beautiful. You couldn't believe you were married, that you had a husband. And as it seems a really thoughtful one. Hopefully it stays like that because then, you didn't mind to spend your lifetime with him.

[kckt88]

In The Night.

Summary:

Aemond struggles to cope in the aftermath of killing Lucerys and seeks comfort from an unlikely source.

Warnings - Brothel Visit, Guilt, Remorse, Language, Violence, Angst Uncle/Neice Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal/Anal Fingering, P in V, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Positions.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C - JACAELLA VELARYON

Word Count: 6065

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond wandered the bustling streets of King's Landing, his mind a tempest of recent events and decisions. The cobblestones under his boots seemed to echo the turmoil within him.

His grandsire Otto Hightower's plot to usurp the throne from Rhaenyra had set everything in motion, pushing Aemond into a whirlwind of political machinations and betrayals.

Otto's insistence on crowning Aegon as King, and the measures taken to ensure their success, had left a bitter taste in Aemond's mouth. He remembered the cold determination in Otto's eyes as he had insisted that his wife, Jacaella, and their son, Rhaegar be locked in their chambers, preventing any chance of escape or interference.

Jacaella's pleas still haunted him. Her voice, filled with desperation and fear, echoed in his mind. “Don't do this, Aemond. Please, I’m begging you-”

But he had steeled his heart then, convinced that the end justified the means, his brother Aegon was Viserys first born son, he was the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, not his oldest child and named heir Rhaenyra.

His journey to Storm's End played out in his thoughts like a twisted saga. He had gone there to secure Baratheon's support, promising a marriage pact between one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters and his younger brother, Daeron.

But it was his encounter with Lucerys that stood out the most. The memory of their confrontation. The chase through the skies on the backs of their dragons was a blur of adrenaline and fear. And then, the final, horrific moment when Vhagar had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

The streets of King's Landing blurred around him as Aemond thought of Jacaella, her grief-stricken face burned into his memory, she had wept for hours upon hearing of her brother's death.

Since then, she had withdrawn from him completely, refusing to be near him, to see him, or even to touch him, even in the presence of their son. The distance she placed between them felt like a physical wound, deep and unhealing.

His heart ached with a profound sorrow. He loved Jacaella more than he had ever thought possible, at first, she was the wife he never wanted, but their fates were sealed that night in Driftmark, after he lost his eye, it was his father’s last desperate attempt to bridge the ever expanding chasm that had formed within the family.

He had lost an eye but gained two dragons that night, and he had loathed his father for it, forcing a the twin sister of Jacaerys Velaryon upon him, but when she arrived in Kings Landing at the age of four and ten, he tried his best to avoid being around her, but everywhere he went there she was, he tried to pretend he was unbothered by her amethyst eyes and flowing dark curls but eventually he succumbed.

She wormed her way into his heart and from their first kiss, he was hooked. She was intelligent, witty and a fantastic artist. His chamber walls were quickly decorated with her sketches, and his most treasured possession was the drawing of Vhagar.

Their wedding night would be ingrained within his memory forever, the sounds she had made as she peaked on his tongue, fingers and then his cock were like song notes on the wind. The marks he had left upon her skin were proof of their love.

He insisted on shared chambers, so they could enjoy one another as often as they wished too, which admittedly was every night and sometimes more than once, there were even occasions when he would find her during the day, and they would sneak off with one another.

It was no surprise when it was announced that she was with child, given how often he gave her his seed. The day she birthed his son Rhaegar was one of the proudest moments of his life, his precious boy, his little silver haired dragon.

Gods how he vowed to always make sure that his son knew of his love, and that Rhaegar would always know he was wanted, that his wife would always know of his devotion.

But now his actions had driven a wedge between them. She was angry and frightened of him, and he was desperate to bridge the chasm that had formed.

But how could he? How could he make her understand that everything he did was for their family's future? How could he win back her trust when his hands were stained with her brother's blood?

As he walked, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on him. The people around him went about their lives, unaware of the storm raging within their Prince. The street vendors called out, children laughed and played, and the city thrived. But Aemond felt like an outsider, disconnected from the world around him.

Aemond stood outside the brothel, his heart pounding in his chest. The sounds of the city seemed distant, muffled by the roaring turmoil within him. He didn't mean to be here, didn't want to be here, but he couldn't help himself.

Desperation and confusion had led him to this place, a refuge of sorts where he hoped to find some semblance of solace or escape from his tormented thoughts.

The sign above the door swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the soft, inviting light spilling from within contrasted sharply with the darkness that shrouded his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door.

The noise and spectacle inside assaulted his senses: laughter, music, and the murmur of illicit activities. He ignored it all, his eye scanning the room.

And then he saw her. Sylvi. The older woman Aegon had brought him to see when he was just three and ten. His stomach churned as their eyes met, a mix of shame and a strange, unsettling familiarity washing over him.

Sylvi's gaze held recognition, and a slow smile spread across her lips as she approached him, her movements graceful and predatory.

"How you've grown," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

Aemond lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't know what to say, the words sticking in his throat like shards of glass.

He felt like a boy again, lost and uncertain, standing in a place he didn't belong.

Sylvi reached out and took his trembling hand in hers, her touch sending a jolt through him. She led him through the room, past the leering patrons and the spectacle he was trying so hard to ignore.

They ascended a narrow staircase, the noise fading into a dull hum as they reached the upper floors.

She opened the door to a private room and gently guided him inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and something else he couldn't quite place.

Aemond stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he had in years.

Sylvi turned to face him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, perhaps a flicker of compassion. "Why are you here, my Prince?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, his emotions a tangled mess. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You're carrying a heavy burden," she observed. "It's written all over you."

Aemond closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I just-I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice breaking.

Sylvi's gaze softened, and she took his hands in hers, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I can offer you something, someone, to help you forget, if only for a moment. Sometimes, that’s all we need."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. But in his desperation, he nodded silently.

Sylvi gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hands once more before slipping out of the room. He sat there, staring at the flickering candlelight, feeling the oppressive silence close in around him.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered. She moved with a practiced grace, her smile polite and professional. "I'm Copper Penny," she introduced herself, her voice soft and inviting.

Aemond said nothing, his throat tight.

Copper Penny approached him, taking his hand and gently pulling him to his feet. He stood there, watching her silently as she untied his cloak and began to undo the clasps of his leather tunic. Her fingers were deft and quick, but as she worked, he caught sight of her eyes—green and bright. Panic surged through him.

His mind was flooded with images of Jacaella, her amethyst eyes filled with hurt and anger. The memory of her face, her voice, her touch, crashed over him like a tidal wave.

It was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. He had a wife; they had a son, he couldn’t dishonour them like this.

"N-No," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Copper Penny paused, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He could see the questions in her eyes, the silent query of what she had done wrong.

Aemond's panic turned to anger, a desperate, flailing anger born from his own self-loathing.

He pushed Copper Penny away from him, his movements abrupt and forceful. "Leave," he demanded, his voice harsh and unsteady. "Get out!"

Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't argue. She nodded quickly, gathering her composure before retreating from the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond stood there, his chest heaving, his hands trembling with the intensity of his emotions. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in around him.

The weight of his actions, his decisions, and the consequences they had wrought pressed down on him, threatening to crush him completely.

He thought of Jacaella, of their son, of the life he had shattered with his choices. The woman he loved was pulling away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. The realization cutting deeper than any blade.

Aemond collapsed onto the bed, the softness beneath him barely registering as he fought to contain the flood of emotions.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the room spinning around him as he struggled to keep his composure.

The sound of the door opening was a distant murmur, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head or see who had entered.

Sylvi's presence beside him was a gentle intrusion into his storm of despair. She sat beside him, her weight sinking into the mattress, and he felt her hand on his shoulder, a warm, comforting touch.

He turned his head, resting it in her lap, his tears soaking into the fabric of her dress. She stroked his long silver hair with slow, soothing motions, her fingers gentle and patient.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Aemond sobbed, his voice muffled and broken. "I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident-all I wanted was his eye as payment for the one he took from me”.

Sylvi's hand continued its rhythmic stroking, her silence an invitation for him to unburden himself.

"He never said sorry," Aemond continued, his words pouring out in a torrent of grief and anger. "He was never punished for what he did, and I suffered for years. The pain, the infections, the endless procedures to try and fix the damage. He lived without consequence while I bore the scar. My father choosing her-we meant nothing to him, I was nothing"

His sobs intensified, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "And Jacaella," he choked out. "My sweet wife, I've broken her heart. She was the one good thing I had in my life, my light in the darkness-and now she's gone. I've driven her away."

Sylvi's touch remained steady, her presence a steady anchor in the maelstrom of his guilt and sorrow. She listened without interruption, allowing him to pour out the anguish that had been festering inside him.

"I don't know how to fix this," Aemond whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. "I don't know how to make her see that I'm still the man she loved that I never wanted to hurt her. I just wanted justice, for what was taken from me."

Sylvi continued to stroke his hair, her silence a balm to his wounded soul.

In her lap, Aemond wept for all that he had lost, the tears cleansing in their own way.

As the minutes passed, the intensity of his sobs gradually subsided, leaving him exhausted and hollow.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed in a whisper, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to make things right."

Aemond's breathing began to steady, the storm of his emotions gradually subsiding. But as the silence stretched, a new feeling took hold—a creeping, insidious fear.

His confession, the vulnerability he had shown, it was dangerous. If anyone knew, if word got out, it could unravel everything.

Panic seized him. He bolted upright, gripping Sylvi's arms with a strength that belied his earlier exhaustion. His eye, wild and desperate, bored into hers. "No one can know," he hissed, his voice low and trembling with intensity. "You are never to repeat what I just told you-If you do, I will feed you to Vhagar."

Sylvi's eyes widened, but she nodded quietly, understanding the gravity of his threat.

She had seen many men in states of distress, but the ferocity in Aemond's gaze was something else entirely. "I won't tell anyone," she promised, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her heart.

Aemond's grip loosened, and he exhaled shakily, his panic slowly ebbing away. He reached into his belt pouch, retrieving a hefty purse of gold coins, and handed it to her.

Without another word, Aemond picked up his discarded leather tunic and cloak, his movements sharp and hurried. He threw them over his shoulder, his eyes avoiding hers as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly, his hand on the doorframe, as if weighing his next words.

But none came. Instead, he pushed the door open and left the room, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Sylvi remained where she was, the purse of gold heavy in her hands. She watched the door close behind him, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

She knew better than to betray the secrets of powerful men, especially one as volatile as Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond walked through the halls of the Red Keep, his mind still reeling from the night's events. He moved quickly, his steps echoing in the empty corridors, until he reached his chambers.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to find Jacaella there.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Aemond stiffened, confusion and defensiveness flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know where you've been," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "You've been on the Street of Silk. To a brothel."

Aemond's heart sank. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jacaella's words came in a torrent, cutting him off.

"Wasn't stealing my mother's throne and killing my brother enough for you? Now you have to sully our marriage by laying with whores?" Her voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You have made a mockery of me, of us. You have dishonoured me."

Aemond's face twisted with a mixture of guilt and anger. "Is it any wonder I found myself seeking comfort elsewhere when my own wife will not even look at me?" he retorted, his voice sharp.

The slap came swiftly and without warning. Jacaella's palm struck his cheek with a resounding crack, the force of it snapping his head to the side.

He stared at her, stunned, as she continued to rage, lurching forward pounding her fists against his chest.

"KINSLAYER” she screamed. "I hate you-I hate you-I hate you!"

Aemond stood there, enduring her blows, the words cutting deeper than any physical pain. Each accusation, each strike, drove home the depth of her betrayal and heartbreak.

"I didn't touch another woman," he began, his voice raw with emotion. "I almost did, but I couldn't-"

Jacaella paused, but he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders.

"I just felt so lonely," Aemond continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you hate me for what I've done, and I hate myself too. Every day, I live with the regret, the guilt-I know I destroyed what we had. But you mean everything to me, Jacaella."

“Aemond-”

"I hurt you so badly. I took away your brother, your trust, your peace. And I can't forgive myself for that." whispered Aemond as he took another step closer, reaching out to her.

Jacaella turned slowly to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Aemond felt a lump in his throat, his own tears threatening to spill over. He took her face gently in his hands, his touch trembling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Tears streamed down his face as he repeated the words over and over, his thumbs brushing away the tears that fell from Jacaella's eyes.

He sobbed openly, the weight of his remorse and sorrow overwhelming him. "I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Jacaella stood there, her heart pounding, torn between the remnants of her anger and the glimmer of hope Aemond's words had kindled.

The pain was still raw, the betrayal fresh, but his anguish and sincerity had touched something deep within her. Without warning, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him.

For a moment, Aemond was stunned, his mind struggling to process the sudden, intense contact. This was the most she had touched him in what felt like an eternity.

Her lips were urgent, demanding, and filled with a mix of pain and longing. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before his instincts took over, and he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her close.

The kiss was a tumultuous blend of emotions—grief, anger, love, and desperation. Aemond held her tightly, afraid to let go, afraid that this moment would slip away like so many others.

He could feel the tremble in her body, the soft hitch of her breath as their kiss deepened. His hands roamed her back, clutching at her as if she were a lifeline.

Jacaella's fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling him even closer, her tears mingling with his. The kiss was a catharsis, a way to pour out all the emotions that words could never fully express.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of it, the world outside their embrace fading into insignificance.

Aemond looked into Jacaella's eyes, the intensity of their shared moment still coursing through him.

He could feel the fragile connection they had just begun to rebuild, and he didn't want to let it slip away. With a deep, shuddering breath, he whispered, "Please, Jacaella-let me take you to bed."

Jacaella looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She could see the raw need in his gaze, the sincere plea for a chance to show her how much she meant to him. Her own heart ached with the desire to find solace in his arms, to escape the pain that had haunted them both.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice breaking. "Please, Aemond, make me forget. Let me feel your love for me."

Aemond's heart soared with a mixture of relief and yearning. He gently cupped her face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before leading her to their bed.

Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs, quickly pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Jacaella watched as Aemond opened his mouth spat on her cunny.

His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into her core with his tongue.

Jacaella clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Jacaella ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Jacaella.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Jacaella’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Jacaella, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Jacaella’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

Gods he was so desperate for her, his wife. His treasure.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Jacaella desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Jacaella.

"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Jacaella.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Jacaella dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

 “Gods, Ella" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Jacaella’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Jacaella.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension  building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Jacaella’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Jacaella, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Jacaella.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Jacaella as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Jacaella once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Jacaella, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please raqiarzy” wailed Jacaella (Beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Jacaella (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Jacaella’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Jacaella took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Jacaella’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.

 “Fuck. Ella-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Jacaella’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the dark messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Jacaella her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Jacaella.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Jacaella breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Ooooh” gasped Jacaella as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Jacaella dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Jacaella as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her husband pulled her too him and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“Gods Ella-my Ella” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

“I love you ābrazȳrys-never forget that” (Wife).

Afterwards, as they lay together in the quiet of their chambers, the air heavy with the aftermath of their shared intimacy.

Aemond held Jacaella close, his arms wrapped around her as if he could protect her from the world outside.

"What are we going to do now?" Jacaella whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, Aemond. Scared of the war that's coming, of the losses we will no doubt endure."

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He held her tighter, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities they faced.

"We will leave," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "We will take Rhaegar, and we will fly across the Narrow Sea. Far away from this war."

Jacaella lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. "But your duty-”she began, her voice faltering.

Aemond shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I made a mistake before," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I put my duty ahead of what was truly important— you and Rhaegar. But not anymore. You are all that matters to me, Jacaella. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears welled up in Jacaella's eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and his determination to protect their family. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were her anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

"Can we truly leave everything behind?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

Aemond held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "We can," he reassured her, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We will find a place where we can start anew, away from the shadows of our past. I promise you”

"What will our absence mean for the war?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Aemond sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him once more. He held Jacaella closer, as if drawing strength from her presence.

"The only thing keeping Rhaenyra and Daemon at bay is you and Vhagar," he admitted, his voice low and resigned. "Once we are no longer here, they will likely seize their chance to take King's Landing."

Jacaella's eyes widened with realization, the gravity of their departure sinking in. "And what about your mother, Aegon, Helaena, and their children?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond hesitated, his jaw tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. "With any luck," he murmured, "Your mother will be merciful and spare them-”

He brushed a strand of hair away from Jacaella's face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil within him. "But those who committed treason, my grandsire, Tyland, Jasper, Larys-" he continued, his voice hardening slightly, "They will not be spared. I know that-”

Jacaella's voice quivered as she voiced her deepest fear. "What if my mother seizes the throne and sends people after us demanding your head in retribution for what happened with Luke?"

Aemond's heart sank at the thought, but he met her gaze with unwavering determination. "If it comes to that, if giving my life ensures your safety and Rhaegar's future, then I will gladly meet the Stranger," he replied solemnly. "I have made many mistakes, but I will not shy away from the consequences."

Tears welled in Jacaella's eyes as she shook her head, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "No, Aemond," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I won't allow your death. Leaving isn't just about keeping me and Rhaegar safe. It's about protecting you too."

Aemond's brow furrowed with concern. "Jacaella, if it means sparing you and our son from harm—"

"No," she interrupted firmly, her voice trembling with resolve. "I cannot lose you. Not like this."

They held each other tightly, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy between them. Aemond's heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused her, the wounds he had inflicted upon their family. He buried his face in her hair, his voice muffled but earnest. "I am so sorry, Jacaella. For everything."

She held him close, her fingers running through his hair as she struggled to find the right words. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And maybe, in time, I will forgive you for what happened. But I will never forget."

Aemond nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. He kissed her forehead gently, a silent promise to do everything in his power to make amends. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right," he vowed quietly. "For you, for Rhaegar, for our family."

Aemond stood at the edge of King's Landing with Jacaella and Rhaegar beside him, Vhagar and Cannibal looming large behind them. His gaze swept over the city one last time, a mixture of nostalgia and resolve tightening his jaw.

He slowly lifted Rhaegar into his arms, the weight of his son grounding him amidst the tumultuous emotion swirling within him.

Rhaegar looked up at him with wide eyes, sensing the gravity of their departure. Aemond kissed his forehead gently before ascending the rope ladder attached to Vhagar's saddle.

As he settled into the saddle, securing the riding chains around himself and Rhaegar, Aemond glanced over at Jacaella. She was already mounted on Cannibal, her posture proud yet tinged with sadness. For a fleeting moment, a pang of regret over leaving their home behind tugged at Aemond's heart. But he pushed it aside with conviction.

This was the right thing to do. For Jacaella, for Rhaegar, for their family's safety and future.

He met Jacaella's gaze across the space between their dragons, offering her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a determined look of her own, her resolve mirroring his.

Together, they were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united in purpose.

Aemond took a deep breath, his hands steady on the reins of Vhagar. With a spoken command, the great dragon spread her wings, lifting them into the sky, with Cannibal following suit, their powerful wings beating rhythmically against the air.

As Vhagar soared through the skies away from King's Landing, Aemond felt the wind rush past him, carrying with it a sense of both relief and uncertainty.

Then, amidst the sound of the wind and the beating of dragon wings, another roar echoed through the air—a familiar, unexpected sound. Aemond's eye widened in surprise as he turned to see Dreamfyre approaching, her majestic form cutting through the clouds.

Strapped into Dreamfyre's saddle was his sister Helaena, and in front of her, squashed together but laughing, were her three children.

"Helaena-what?" Aemond called out, a mixture of shock and concern in his voice.

Helaena looked over at him with a serene smile, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of freedom. "Jacaella" she replied simply, her voice carrying over the rush of the wind.

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude and admiration for his wife. In that moment, he realized that Jacaella had not only secured their own escape but had also ensured Helaena's happiness and the safety of her children.

Aside from Jacaella and Rhaegar, Helaena and her little ones were the only other truly innocent souls in their Targaryen family.

A sense of peace settled over Aemond as he looked at Helaena and her children, their laughter ringing out in the sky. He had always felt a protective instinct towards his sweet sister, knowing the hardships she had endured within the confines of the Red Keep.

Now, she was finally free to live a life away from the politics and dangers that had plagued their family.

With a nod of gratitude towards Jacaella, Aemond turned his focus back to the horizon ahead. They were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united, bound by love and a shared desire for a new beginning.

As the dragons continued to carry them away from the troubles of Westeros, Aemond felt a glimmer of hope that they might find a place where they could all truly belong, where their dragons could roam freely and their family could finally thrive in peace.

The End.

[missionkitty]

[Image ID: a grayscale digital drawing of laios touden from the manga and anime series "delicious in dungeon" with the original poster's original werewolf character, julian. laios, a tall, strong-looking man wearing armor with short, almost cropped light hair is sweating, looking excitedly frantic at, and has his hands on julian, a similarly-tall, muscular man with darker skin, pointed ears and a short, messy mop of dark hair, wearing a dark, fitted t-shirt. julian is looking nervously at laios, quiet and sweating. the background is slightly faded text that is laios asking endless questions about julian's life as a werewolf and other werewolf-related questions. /End ID]

mmm got a case of the sillies watching dungeon meshi the other night...i think laios and julian would become friends, but the first cordial "ask me anything about being a werewolf!" from julian might get him more than he expected

oh laios...my beloved 😳

[austenhowe]

when do you think cressida realizes that eloise has completely forsaken her?

because before she found out penelope was lady whistledown she still thought she was the one to completely break their friendship by allowing her mother to write disparagingly about the bridgertons.

she did not know that eloise already knew who lady whistledown was when she asked for her help to write the column. she probably thought that eloise cut their friendship because her assuming the mantle of lady whistledown implies that she was the one who wrote ruinous things about her last season.

do you think she realizes that this was the reason for the fallout of eloise and penelope's friendship once she found out who the real lady whistledown was? do you think she realizes that eloise knew and that she was content to let her take the fall for perez hilton featherington? that she refused to help her knowing that she wasn't the real lady whistledown and knowing that she was desperate to escape her circumstances? and that she could not even spare her a sympathetic ear even if she didn't want to help and instead doubled down in drawing the line in the sand by cutting their friendship?

how would she feel about that when she finally works it out? when she realizes that eloise did not value their friendship as much as she did? that she probably never even valued her as a person capable of deep thoughts, of feelings, of dreams? (please don't get me started with the whole, "I did enjoy her at the start" line they gave eloise, my god that was cold)

do you think the show will even give the space for cressida to have these realizations in the next season or am I out of my mind to expect them to actually do cressida's character justice? (the show did love to laugh at her misfortune)

even if they never acknowledge this aspect of their break-up, cressida has a long carriage ride to wales to reflect on this betrayal (yes I will call it a betrayal, of their friendship and of eloise's character development in part 1) and god only knows what kind of mindset she'll end up having after realizing that she is truly alone, unwanted, unloved, and unworthy of help.

I hope at the very least that this informs her character in the next season and that we see her finding her purpose, her strength, and her place in or out of polite society. I don't ask for much. I just want her to have a good, loving, and happy life, with or without eloise.

I'll take creloise endgame if they actually manage to fix what they broke when they wrote eloise as OOC as possible so that they could have their penelope and eloise friendship as quickly as they could. I don't know about other people, but I do have standards and that includes EARNED reconciliations. I find it so cheap and lazy when writers just skip to the good part, like have some respect for your viewing audience.

I don't know why I'm still mad about this but you really shouldn't put a character that's doomed by the narrative in front of me and expect me to just leave it to die in a ditch.

I'll always root for the underdog, especially one that's been beaten down and publicly dragged through the mud for daring to escape their doomed fate.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

How the 141 show love to each other

Ghost:

He sends Soap random pictures of flowers and stuff, the sunrise when he's up for it, or even a bumblebee he found resting on a flower. Knows how his coffee is made perfectly when it's homemade. Gives little forehead kisses when they're alone or with the 141 only. Will hook his ankle under Soap's feet and stay there for hours if necessary, anything to keep the contact.

He hands Gaz small things he likes, a particularly pretty leaf or a loose bolt he found on the ground. He also gives him samples of teas he thinks he'll like, makes sure to pay attention to if he needs a blanket.

He'll sit next to Price on a rough day and say nothing, just be a grounding presence. He'll save him his favorite foods from the mess hall and put them on his plate when Price comes and sits down.

He includes Laswell during team activities when possible, making sure she can take a call and face timing her so she can see the dumb shit that's happening, putting the phone in the best position to see the chaos. Sends her and her wife their favorite candies for holidays.

Soap:

Makes and fixes things for Ghost, sends him pictures of the stray cats he sees on his walks and while he's making his way around base. He knows Ghost's cafe coffee order by heart so he can order for him while they're in public. Cheek and nose kisses, likes to gently bite Ghost's cheek when they're alone, claims it's to "show dominance" but does it so softly that it just feels like a love nibble. Puts his hand under the mask at the back of Ghost's head and plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Cuts Gaz's hair for him, Gaz once got a bad cut at the place he went to because they had a person who was new to styling do it hair so when he got mad about it back at base (not at the person, never at the person) Soap fixed it for him and made it better. Kicks his feet when he's nodding off in places he shouldn't be.

Steals Price's hat at least once a month to make sure nothing is falling off or tearing or ripped. During these inspections he'll add another bobble to the collection, something light and small to its unobtrusive. Draws little cute pictures and slips them in his vest pockets when he gets close enough.

Will send selfies and pictures of the group to Laswell, texting her a fun fact or a pun every day, telling a funny story about the recruits or what Gaz or Ghost or Price did that day too if there is one.

Gaz:

Gets Soap new drawing journals when he runs out, new pencils too. Gets him socks with dumb ass designs for Christmas and Halloween, the latter one because he thinks it's hilarious to give gifts then. Listens to and talks about special interests and really pays attention, even educating himself on aspects he doesn't know about.

He'll do the same thing for Ghost that Ghost does for Price. He'll sit next to him in silence and do his own thing while Ghost is having a bad time, waiting until he wants to speak. He learned sign language and taught Ghost so they could speak easier on days where his brain felt too heavy to conjure up the right syllables. Keeps every leaf Ghost gives him and puts them in a scrapbook with a date and location, shows Ghost after it's done.

Hugs Price almost religiously. He's Price's most common hugger, being the majority of where he gets his touch (platonic) so he's not touch starved. Will drag Price out of bed on a bad day since Price asked him to if he deems it an appropriate day to do so, will talk Price through boring paperwork and make it more fun so it goes faster.

While everyone else texts Laswell every day, he does every other day if that, leading to barely any exchanges but when there are some, they're meaningful to both of them. He's her vent partner, the person she goes to when she needs to complain about someone or something, he gives advice and is an overall good listener.

Price:

He gave Soap a fitbit once, something he won one time and never wore himself, he has the account linked on his phone so he can keep track of his heartbeat and sleeping habits, making sure he's getting enough rest and enough time to himself so he won't lose himself trying to be a people pleaser. He also gives him chocolates he knows Soap likes, orders them and stockpiles them for a bad day and then goes up to Soap and hands him a few wordlessly. Trying to silently tell him that he knows what he's going through and it's ok to break sometimes, to stop being strong sometimes.

When Ghost gives him his favorites from the mess, Price exchanges for Ghost's favorites. When he sees Ghost getting overwhelmed he tells him he needs to see him in his office and gets him out of the situation, handing him a blanket when he gets inside and telling him to lay down for a second because Ghost is so overwhelmed he's on the verge of giving himself a migraine.

He gives as good as he gets with physical contact with Gaz, hugging him just as hard, a hand on the back of his neck here and there to make sure he's emotionally balanced, fingers brushing his shoulder to remind him he's not alone. Will make sure he's having a good day or not based on how badly his hands shake. When Gaz gets too into his own head, he makes a game of giving Gaz his hat and telling him to play keep away with Ghost and Soap, knowing leading them into a game will help.

He sends cards and videos and pictures of anything and everything he can think of to Laswell, he's her second vent partner and will be the "beat his ass" version rather than understanding like Gaz. He shows he cares by being willing to burn the world for her and her wife and she appreciated it immensely when he jokes about taking her to a bar fight to let off some steam.

Laswell:

She doesn't like showing that she cares too much with physical things, so her care for Soap is mostly sending him tv show and movie recommendations.

She sends Ghost pictures of plants she found on the internet and what they're useful for. They have a "plant a day" thing where she has a whole list or book detailing various plants in alphabetical order and she picks one to send its information to him.

Give Gaz music recommendations and lets him vent back to her, she has a Spotify they share where they put random music on it if they like it.

Tells Price specific updates about her home life and how her wife is doing over the phone. Nothing too revealing but enough to make him feel like she truly trusts him.

[grind-pantera]

I was wonderingggggggg what if reader gave noa oral?

Since you already did this with ceaser.

*shot down, deceased I've been risen from the dead to bless you all*

we talked about this guys. WE TALKED ABOUT ME BEING NASTY.

** BELOW IS VERY NSFW, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THANK YOU. 18+ READ THE PROMPT AND BE RESPONSIBLE IN KNOWING IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE PROCEEDING. **

I think the first time that you decide to go ahead with it, even having explained to him what you were going to do, Noa would be a tensed ball of nerves at having your face so near something that was not well established within the Ape community, or at the very least, it was something not talked about or mentioned in public settings.

Wide green eyes watched in tense and flurried frenzy as your hands press against his chest, just enough to get yourself propped up and without warning, your gentle finger tips are running down his chest, resting along his navel for a moment. The sensation in the pit of his stomach is so tight he felt like he was going to unravel. From the navel, Noa admires how your cheeks are a bit red, trying to convince the haze in his mind that it was just the nature of the fire playing along your skin, but he can feel just how hot your touch is, even through his thickened fur. Downwards, you're a bit hesitant, not sure how he was going to react as you lightly grasp his cock. Absolute, no barred reaction here. Hips are in the air, Noa is baring his teeth at the sensation of you touching it, and not having himself inside of you, Noa hisses under his breath, drawing a hard breath inwards and letting it hold there as he waited for you to move again. He had no idea this was even possible, the sort of twisted knot that was sitting dangerously close to the pit of his stomach but he wasn't turning away, he wasn't pushing back, he was asking for more, silent at first before a tiny gasp leaves his lips once the sensation passes. You're quick to give him a few pumps, just to get him as ready as possible ( Also, hey, you're a tease so why not ), letting your finger drift over the head a few times just to garner him to show his teeth at you again, which funnily enough, in the throes of intimacy, you'll do the same thing every so often and it makes Noa go wild.

Suddenly, the weight of your body is gone from the straddling position you had chosen. Right off of him and he's left wanting you back, long arms raising weakly, eyes looking down at what you were doing at the flush of movements as you were readjusting yourself. I mean, he knows, but does he know? Noa's eyes are on you, never taking them away as you prop his legs open, fur rising on his shoulders out of anticipation as you dip your body between then and he takes a second to really admire that--- and OH-

You're fast to bring your head downwards, giving your mate a look, letting your eyes lock as your hot breath cascades onto the hot and sensitive organ as you grasp the base to angle it properly for you to do what you so desperately longed to, the fur that was near the base tickled your fingers and you allow yourself the moment to admire him so close. He's girthier than a human male, not as long but incredibly veiny, it is a few shades lighter than the fur that it was usually tucked into when not aroused. Your hungry eyes sweeping over the prominent vein that sat on the underside, tapering off closer to the tip. Just to show him how much you loved him, and that despite him being an Ape, he deserved this sort of affection, he deserved it from you. You give him a cursory lick on the under side, right along the vein that had gotten your attention in the first place, letting your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of him twitching at the first placement of your mouth so near to him. He's incredibly fast to orgasm. Like, seconds after your mouth is on the head, barely even grazing with your lips to give him a taste of more, he's done for. immediately on your face, partially in your mouth. Didn't even have time to react properly to pull away. It's such a visceral cum too, like, teeth gritting against each other, he is holding onto the animal pelt underneath him for dear life, he feels like all the tendons in his fingers were going to snap under the pressure. You relish in the feeling of his thighs closing in on you, tightening their grip as his fur begins to brush your shoulder blades, his feet are straggling for something to hold on to and somehow end up on the small of your back and he's pressing you down, cum dripping off your face onto the animal pelt below. You make a note that you were going to have to clean it, but that seemed so forgotten when Noa made eye contact with you, eyes completely darkened with carnal want, his cock still in your hand, throbbing again at just the visual he was getting of you between his legs as he tried to collect his breathing, shooting inhales and exhales roughly through his nose before Noa finally lets his head drop backwards and he opens his mouth to say something. "Fast." You chuckled, swiping your mouth with your tongue to get just a taste of what he had just given you. You knew quick releases were normal, the first few times you two did anything, it was very brief and you expected it this time around as it was the first time you really delved into the realm of doing anything other than the most basic positions, followed by longer drafts of holding each other and engaging in conversations before you fell asleep against him. Noa only huffs out a response as you give a small thrust of your hand, asking if he wanted you to do it again. Wordlessly, he just nods.

Definitely becomes one of his favored forms of foreplay, sometimes even going as far as to only have that performed on himself rather than penetration. It just feels so euphoric.

Ah don't get me started ( actually please do ) about once he gets comfortable, perhaps two or three times after the first experience and Noa grasps at your hair for the first time. He's grasping it so tightly, dragging your eyes open to force you to look at him. He's hips shuffle forward as you make eye contact with him and moan against his cock. He's done for.

AH MY GOD. Your favored position is to have him on his back, it's just the most comfortable for you but you mention something one day about being on your knees and he does not relent the idea. In the middle of it that evening, he ASKS YOU IF IT WAS OKAY TO TRY THAT WAY.

And you do, licking your lip of the pre-cum that he had already given you. He is shaking like a LEAF as he brings himself to rise, suddenly flushed and afraid that he was going to loose his balance as you follow him out of the nest, bringing a small animal pelt with you to rest your knees again instead of sitting on the wooden thickets of the floor below.

This is really the first time that he's really looking down at you, often choosing to keep his eyes shut in anticipation of the impending pleasure but he wants to witness as you bring your sweaty body to your knees, shuffling forward towards his cock that was sprung deliciously in front of your eyes.

You don't even bother grabbing it - something Noa finds intensely interesting as you were so frequent to do that and instead, you just slide him into your mouth. His hands are at his side for the first portion of it, balling itself into a fist before relaxing again. His toes are curling and un furling before he does something unexpected.

HE GRABS THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD AND FORCES YOU TO TAKE HIS ENTIRE SHAFT INTO YOUR MOUTH. THE GAG? OHHHHHH The fur on his spine is prickling with satisfaction, almost transfixed in your saliva dripping down your chin.

Noa is not hesitant to cum in your mouth. ( Not his favorite, but it'll do if he can't get himself inside of you before he needs to. )