#language: the eternal ache

[ditzyrafe]

— sending dom!rafe a video of u touching urself

warnings — masturbation, lewd language

a/n — part two!

the house is quiet, almost unnervingly so. rafe is out — a late meeting, he'd said — leaving you alone with the silence and the low, insistent thrumming beneath your skin. it's that familiar ache, the one making your panties moisten with anticipation. the one you're supposed to ignore, supposed to wait patiently for him to address.

but tonight, the rules feel distant, hazy. the need is sharp, demanding, coiling tight in your belly. you shift restlessly on the living room rug, wanting so desperately to feel something satisfy your need. then an idea sparks, dangerous and thrilling, blooming hot in your chest: what if he saw? what if he knew you couldn't wait for him to come home?

it's defiance, plain and simple. a deliberate step over the line he drew so clearly.

your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for your phone, propping it against a cushion on the floor. you angle it carefully, making sure the lens captures your open legs and face all in one. your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic beat against the backdrop of silence. this is wrong. forbidden. exhilarating.

taking a deep breath, you hit record.

then, your hand slides down, hesitant at first, over the smooth fabric of your pink silky shorts rafe got you a while back, pressing lightly against the heat building between your legs. a soft gasp escapes your lips, startlingly loud in the quiet room. you glance at your phone, at the little red recording light, imagining his eyes wathching this. that thought alone fuels the fire inside of you.

you slip your shorts and panties off and toss them somewhere across the room. the first touch is electric, sending shivers radiating through your entire body. you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation, letting the pressure build, deliberately slow. this isn't just about release; it's about the act of disobedience. and you're kind of excited to see how rafe will punish you for it.

your fingers learn a rhythm, chasing the pleasure points you know so well. each sigh, each soft moan feels amplified like you're putting on a show. your back arches slightly, lost in the building sensation, acutely aware that every second of this stolen pleasure is being recorded for him. for the man whose permission you actively disregarded.

when the peak finally reaches, washing over you in hot, shuddering waves, a final, choked cry escapes you. you collapse back onto the couch behind you, trembling, breath ragged.

after a moment, catching your breath, you reach forward, fingers still slick, and stop the recording. the file sits there on your screen, a tangible piece of evidence of your disobedience. your thumb hovers over rafe's contact. sending this is crossing a line. and there's no going back after you hit send.

a thrill, sharp and laced with fear, shoots through you. you press send.

the delivery notification pings softly almost instantly, followed quickly by the double checkmarks indicating it's been seen. the speed of it steals your breath. he must have been looking at his phone. the silence in the house suddenly feels suffocating, stretching into eternity as you wait, knuckles white where you grip your phone.

just as you start to second-guess your impulsive act, the screen lights up. a new message from rafe. it was laced with something that made you instantly wet all over again.

rafe: get on all fours for when i get back, doll ♡

taglist ; @13hischiers @rafesprecious @mayanqueenxx @dreewsepj @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @onxlyemery @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you @g3t2kn0w @kravitzwhore @dollyfiles @kild4re @zzhenyac @sparklyananas @dsfault @athaliahxoxo (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[monstersholygrail]

Vampires are a very composed and prideful sort of monster and your Vampire bf is no different.

He is the picture of perfection and sophistication in all public regards. His posture is so straight you’d swear he was statue. His language is smooth and charming to the point where he could convince an orc he was actually a troll. At society events he is the one to talk to with a row of awaiting guests lined up down the halls. Always with you standing right by his side. While he keeps you close, aching to have you near, he’s always respectful in his acts around you.

As leader of his coven he has to be.

But he’s not like that when he’s alone with you. No, never. When you’re the only one around he finally feels free to be completely himself. Not having to put on a show for everyone while also maintaining all his responsibilities. In the quiet of your chambers he can simply be your mate. As you are his mate. His eternal love. And this affects him deeper than he realizes. He has more of a soft spot for you than even he can admit to himself at times.

Particularly when your Vampire bf drinks your blood. He swears he’s not addicted to it. To the flavors that dance and mingle amongst the copper tang, to the thick warmth that mimics your tender embrace as it coats his throat, to the spark of adrenaline akin to lightning that shoots through his body as your blood pumps through his veins. No, definitely not addicted…

Yet just one drop of your life force has him falling to his knees, whining and whimpering as he nuzzles into your stomach. But it’s important to know that he doesn’t beg— he never begs for it. That is one thing your Vampire bf always says for certain (denies). He definitely doesn’t beg.

Not even as he’s pounding into you from behind, the glide of his cock along your walls making your head spin. His face in your neck, inhaling deeply as he soaks up your scent. So you must mishear him every time he takes you whispering, “P-please, my heart. You know I need all of you. Jus’ wanna consume you, darling, please.”

Of course your neck is bared for him before either of you can utter another word. Yet you cry out as your Vampire bf’s hips jolt, slamming against that spot along your gummy walls at just the mere sight of the slope of your neck.

His fangs sink into your flesh with a quiet squelch that mirrors the wet noise echoing throughout the room as your hips meet with each thrust. Mirroring moans leaving you as you both melt into each other. Your powerful Vampire bf turning into a puddle of arousal at a single drop of your blood.

Loud whines fall past your bf’s lips and vibrate into your neck. You moan, head rolling back. The ecstasy of your bf sucking your blood meeting the intensity of his cock rutting into your pussy just right. Vampire bf rubs against you, desperate to touch every inch of your skin. His hands scouring and groping every soft bit of flesh he can get his hands on. Nuzzling impossibly deeper into your neck as he turns into a whimpering mess of senseless limbs.

All these sensations crash into each other, overwhelming you in the best possible way. They send you flying higher and higher until your orgasm washes over you and you’re mewling as you arch back into your Vampire bf. Your touch and the clenching of your cunt sends your bf into his own orgasm, both of you weakly riding out the waves of euphoria in each other’s arms.

His tongue laps at any remaining blood trickling out as his fangs release you. He brings you into his arms, his form surrounding and curling around you as you lay on the bed. His body hypertensive to touch but he nuzzles into you anyway, seeking more of your warmth.

You hold onto him tightly, swearing that nothing is better than when your sophisticated and proper bf morphs into a total mess. And only ever for you.

[satinestales]

❝lethal lust❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: smut without plot, little bit of angst! ep6 left me speechless so of course i had to write something

warnings: english is not my native language, p in v, ocean sex (don't recommend), fingering, backshots against a rock, little bit of violence, established relationship, qimir being too fine

now playing, lust for life by lana del rey

The stones were cold, running through your numb bare feet. The lukewarm wave from the ocean soothed the pain, gently caressing your skin with its rhythmic ebb and flow. The ache slowly vanished as you dipped your ankles deep into the water, letting the waves cling to your calves.

You woke up later than intended today, exhausted and sore from last nights encounter with the jedi. You suffered many injuries, the outcome of being out of practice for many months. You were fortunate to find yourself this morning with only scars left, your lethal wounds healed and mended. You could never count on your fingers how many times Qimir saved your life. The number of times he healed your wounds, no matter how little they were. He hated seeing you injured, harmed in any way. You wanted to pay him back but you had no idea how. Any time you asked him he responded with, I have you. That’s all that matters. You always felt a little guilty.

“Are you gonna just stand there or join me?” You heard him spoke, few meters away from you, relaxing in the ocean, guarded by a circle of large rocks. He had his back turned to you, his hair pushed back, wet, dripping with to his shoulders. You saw his scar many times, but never got quiet used to it. You wanted to find that person who gave it to him and make them suffer for eternity. One day, he promised you.

Lifting up your hands to your robe, you slowly untied it, letting it fall on the shore, taking your time to get into the water.

After a few seconds you finally reached him, putting your hands on the side of his arms, your chin resting on his shoulder. His skin was hot, despite the cool temperature around you. You felt his hands reach out for your legs under the water, caressing your skin with his fingers.

“You saved me there,” you broke the silence, lifting your hand to play with the ends of his hair. “Again.” Last night, Yord almost separated your head from your shoulders and if it wasn’t for Qimir pulling you away, you wouldn’t see him turn to face you now. His eyes were set low, softness blending it with yearning. His hands danced their way from your thighs to your waist to pull you closer to him. You could feel every curve of his, every small movement against your skin, and even after hundreds of times, you never got used to the striking feeling it brought you.

“You would do the same for me,” he simply added, tilting his head, scanning you with his eyes.

“But I never do.” You replied, ashamed, shaking your head. “You never need my saving. It is always I, who needs it.” You felt embarrassment crawling to your cheeks but returning his intense stare. He never broke eye contact; it made you nervous.

“You’re saving me every day,” smile danced on his lips as his hand reached your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheekbone. “By being here with me.” His voice was soft, teasing. “I lost everything a long time ago, and I thought I was at peace, that it fit me. But all I needed was someone by my side, someone to share the same feelings, desires, dreams that I do. You found me.” His thumb moved in circles on your cheek, making sure you heard every word he let out.

You didn’t dare to even blink, admiring every movement of his lips, his eyebrows, the way his eyes kept circling your face.

“You’re saving me simply by returning the love I give you.” He repeated before slowly leaning in to give you a small kiss on the top of your nose.

“But-“ he didn’t even let you start, placing his wet hand against your mouth. You saw the smirk on his lips, the desire to kick him in the shin growing stronger every second.

“No arguing,” he said, more steadily and loudly. “Please,” you heard him add, lowering his voice back.

You didn’t want to argue either, but you wanted to do more then just to breathe next to him. You wanted to help him when it came to battle, protect him from potential harm. It was like arguing with a wall. He knew you were powerful, almost his equal. But the fear of getting you hurt made him keep you away from the fights he so often faced.

Okay.

You thought to yourself, before feeling his hand move away from your mouth, to let it rest against your hip. His other hand found yours, lifting it up and pushing it against his abdomen. His eyes never left yours and you could slowly recognize the desire within them.

You remembered, years back, when you still trained as a jedi, any sign or hint of desire forced you to suffer the jedi punishment. As a jedi, especially as a padawan, you could never let these thoughts even fly around your mind. If you even dared to share a though, you were destined to dark side. That’s what you were taught. Until you met Qimir. You were both padawans, both training to be the next jedi knights. So when you saw the glimpse in his eyes, you realized you might not be the only one. That it’s normal to feel those things. It’s normal to want. And for months you despised yourself, but Qimir helped you. Helped you how to deal with those feelings. Taught you.

When you two were later found out, you were forced to leave the Order, as for Qimir, you never found out what they did to him. He never told you, not even after years when you found each other again, leaving you wondering. You wanted to avenge him, hurt those who hurt him. Why did he suffer for things you were too a part of.

You didn’t know how long you stood there for, how long he held your hand against his torso, or how many times the waved washed over you. You started to get cold and Qimir wasn’t blind to it. You stood still as he lowered his gaze to your shoulders where he slowly rested his hand. His fingers tracing your scars, slowly moving his way up your collarbones, to your neck, tickling your jaw, until he placed it next to your ear, curling his fingers to get underneath your hair. His other hand, still underwater let go of yours to push it to your lower back, centimeters above your ass.

He didn’t say anything as he moved in closer, his lips brushing against your face. You started to feel the heat between your legs grow stronger, his smell driving you crazy. Closing your eyes you let him leave wet marks on your skin, bending his knees to circle down to your chest, his nails pressing against your back dimples.

You didn’t realize all while doing that, he was slowly pushing you back until you were met with a hard texture of the rock behind you. It wasn’t necessarily comfortable but when Qimir’s lips attacked your breasts, all of the discomfort left your mind.

Instinctively your hands moved to his, still dripping wet hair, enjoying the sensation of his mouth. His tongue started circling your hard nipples, his fingers lightly tugging on your hair. Moans started to leave your mouth as his other hand squeezed your ass, his mouth never leaving your tits. Lifting your arm to hold on onto his, as he kept pulling your hair.

Even in the water, you could feel the wetness already forming between your thighs, his touch clouding your thoughts and any form of previous opinions.

He knew exactly how to make you want him, how to touch you and how to keep you on the edge. How many times he made you straddle him during training sessions, how many times he walked around naked just to pass by you. He enjoyed the teasing, and you knew it.

You were aware of every touch of is and when his hips met yours, pushing you with force against the cold stone, you had to bite back a moan. He was already rock hard, resting against your abdomen.

He quickly moved away from you, his hands and mouth leaving you only to find his fingers right between your legs, brushing against your bundle of nerves. You cried out, not expecting him to be so fast. Most of the times he waited till tears formed in your eyes, wanting to see you so desperate and needy just to feel his touch. He wasn’t wasting time today. He needed you. And he needed you now.

“You’re needy this morning.” He purred, grin on his face as he looked down at you. You were, you had no intention of denying it. His fingers worked magic on you, teasing your entrance as he roughly attacked your neck, making you dizzy, not sure where to put your focus on.

You pressed your hands against his chest when you felt his fingers thrust into you, receiving a sharp intake of breath from you.

Fuck.

You never comprehended how his fingers alone could make you feel so good. Sometimes you prefered it. But nothing ever topped the way his tongue worked on you. The way he devoured you whole like he wanted to eat you. The way he made you sit on his face with full strength, how he almost made you faint one time from orgasming too many times just on his tongue.

Your brain was empty, only focusing on his fingers, thrusting in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit. His mouth marking your neck, leaving bunch of red marks around. He loved marking you.

“Qimi-“you failed to speak, his fingers making you see The Force itself. You were absolutely useless. Pressed against a rock as Qimir pounded into you with his thick fingers.

“Yes, darling.” He responded to your nonexistent question. Your eyes were closed, focusing only on the pleasure but you could see the stupid cocky smile he had on his lips right now. He loved seeing you so desperate, drowning in his touch.

“Fuc,” you wanted to speak but his fingers shut you up every time they moved inside of you. You were so close. You could feel his force, intensifying your pleasure, making it way harder to keep your legs steady.

“What do you want, I can’t hear you.” Jerk.

So close. You could feel it. You grabbed his hand, digging your nails into him as your legs started to shake, orgasm approaching fast.

Or it would, if Qimir didn’t move his hand away, leaving you feeling empty, unsatisfied and angry.

“What did you wanna say?” he asked, stupid grin on his face. His hair was slowly drying, few strands falling into his face. His lips plumb and pink, his chest covered on salty drops of the ocean. You wanted to eat him.

“You fuck.” You whined, shoving your hands against his chest. It only widened his smile. You ought to expect it when he grabbed your hands out of reflex, bending them to make you turn, forcing you to be face to face with the rock you were just now pressed against. Groan left your mouth out of both pain and shock, his one hand holding both of your wrists against your beck, your ass to his already leaking cock.

You tried to hold yourself against the rock as you felt his strength against you. You felt him against your ass, closing your eyes wanting nothing else than him right now. His free hand slowly moved your hair away from your back so he could trace your spine down to your ass, which he then aggressively spanked.

“You need to be more loud next time.” He ordered, pushing you against the rock one last time. His rough actions weren’t anything new to you, it often happened after a battle. Once he had you bent over against a random building, few minutes after being attacked by a group of bounty hunters.

You were powerless against him, so you decided to rest your face against the rough texture of the rock, only feeling his hand holding your wrists together.

“Tell me when to stop,” he breathed out as he brushed himself against your entrance, the water making it more difficult to see, but that didn’t stop him. You could feel him against your folds, trying to hold back a moan.

Without any warning he pushed forward, burying himself inside of you. Both of you cried out at the same time, trying to compose yourself, feeling him spreading your walls, not even halfway in yet.

“Qimir fuck.” You shout out, his hand finally leaving yours so you could hold yourself against the rock as he slowly started to push himself deeper, as much as you allowed him to. No matter how many times he used you, you never got used to the feeling of having him inside, filling you to the fullest.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he began to thrust roughly. You knew he’d leave marks on your hips based on how strongly he was gripping you, pounding into you mercilessly.

You used all your power to keep yourself standing, gripping any part of the rock, not caring about the bruising you’d be left with.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growled, pounding into you harder, sliding in and out of you. His one hand left your hips to reach out for your hair, pulling your head back.

You felt his breath on you back as he pulled you against him, his thrusts becoming sloppier, hungrier. He was close. His chest pressed against your back, his hands finding your breasts, fondling them, not stopping abusing your g-spot.

"Qimir, please," you whispered, reaching out to hold onto something, for your legs started to feel weaker, the water splashing around with every thrust of his distracting you.

"I know," he breathed into your ear, chills travelling down your spine. Without warning, he pulled himself out of you, turning you back to him again, your back scratching against the rock. Lifting you, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he pushed himself into you again, thrusting harder than before. He leaned against the rock, his arms around your head. You ignored the pain of your back being pushed repeatedly against the rock and only focused on his cock filling you up so good, hitting all the spots you never reached yourself. Your arms wrapped around his torso, your nails leaving long marks on his back.

"Please," you begged, feeling yourself closer than before. You felt him starting to twitch inside of you, both of you so close. Two more thrust into you, he panted, feeling his climax building up inside of him. He couldn't hold back any longer, his hips bucking wildly as he came hard inside of you, filling you up with his cum. At the same time, you felt your walls contract around his thick cock, feeling him fill you up as your eyes filled with tears from the intense orgasm.

You didn't realize or hear the loud crash as Qimir pushed too hard against the rock next to your head, cracking it in half before it fell into the water, splashing the both of you with a huge wave.

Your hair was now dripping wet, curling at the ends, leaning against Qimir's chest, who tried to regain his composure. Both of you stood there for a few seconds, staring at the cracked stone lying in the water next to you.

You flinched at Qimir's arms, holding you tightly against him. He didn't bother to move and decided to stay inside of you for as long as you let him.

"Next time," you murdered, raising your head to look at him, his eyes still dark, filled with lust. "on the shore, please."

[peachofu]

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ missin’ you 2.3k

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

contains: 18+ smut, explicit language, dirty talk, f and m masturbation, fingering, swearing, brief scent kink, brief mention of pain, multiple orgasms, made with origins!logan in mind, set in late 1970s.

the days were stretching longer as each passed, tedious tasks that distracted you from the distance no longer keeping you occupied.

it had been around three weeks since logan had departed for a mission. he claimed that it was something he had to do, and you didn’t interfere due to his adamance. he stood firmly on getting a job done, no matter the risks, which only made it so much harder for you.

logan hadn’t disclosed the details to you, despite you being the only person he trusts. he was always aloof when you questioned him about his missions, dismissing the conversation with a grumble or quickly switching to another topic.

so you gave up on asking, letting him do what he was so headstrong on doing, regardless of the ache in your heart as you watched him leave. not knowing when or if he was going to return.

-

another restless night approached after a day filled with unwontedly familiar longing. you had slipped into an evening routine, one that brought you an ounce of peace through the distress. it kept you tranquil for a while, focusing on repetitive things like making dinner or engrossing yourself in a book before bed.

you slipped beneath the chill sheets, the lack of a brawny frame to warm you up once again sending a soft huff of dismay from your lips. the bedroom was silent, as it had been for the past few weeks yet you still hadn’t adjusted to it. you refused to.

“god,” you muttered, cupping your face and sighing heavily.

the absence of contact from logan was getting more worrying by the day, and as much as you tried to avoid it, the uncertainty was eating away at you. his missions had never lasted this long, possibly a couple days at most.

constantly feeling on edge led to things worsening, like waking up in the night with nightmares just like logan did. he wouldn’t want that for you. so you stayed optimistic, dismissing the cluster of dreadful thoughts that wavered in your mind.

you reached over the bedside table, fingertips grazing over the pull chain before a ringing sound reverberated around the bedroom. your gaze fixed onto the phone, eyes skeptically surveying over the keypad for a few seconds.

you were taught to always pick up the phone, incase of emergency, but it was almost midnight and you certainly weren’t in the mood for an urgency. but due to the consistent ringing, you reluctantly reached down to pick up the handset, settling it between your ear and shoulder.

“hello?” the words left your lips in a exhausted whisper, voice strained and almost impertinent. but that couldn’t be helped, you had only one thing weighing on your mind, another was unnecessary.

your words were met with ragged breaths from the other end, a sound that you instantaneously recognised.

“logan? is…is that you?” you stammered, eyes wide as you sat up, completely immersed in expecting a reply.

before he replied, the breathing paused for a beat, tension rising rapidly as you began to yearn for a response.

“yeah, darlin’. it’s me,” he finally answered, his voice still retaining its usual huskiness that always put you at ease.

you let out a gentle, breathy exhale of pure relief, a smile spreading over your face. your features twitched indecisively for a few seconds, the overwhelming feeling of consolation consuming you whole.

“i’m—sorry i didn’t call,” he murmured, breaking the momentary silence between you, “things got outta hand. didn’t want you worrying ‘bout me.”

his voice was deep, carrying that standard resonance which you had pined for everyday. to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity filled you with warmth. even with this brief occurrence, despite not being able to see him, touch him, it was enough.

“well you failed at that,” you retorted in a whisper, eyebrows slightly raised as you leaned back against the pillow.

logan let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle in response. the pert tone in your voice never failed to amuse him, especially now. he was well aware of what you were referring to, guilt beginning to creep up into his conscience.

the mission had been rough, sending an array of conflicted emotions his way throughout the process. being away from you for such an unbearable amount of time filled him with anguish, dealing with those emotions didn’t alleviate that.

“yeah, guess i did,” he muttered, a tinge of regret lingering in his tone, “i’m sorry, darlin’. wasn’t fair to leave you in the dark like that.”

another pause filled the line, thick with every left unspoken between the two of you. he could feel the distance between you as much as he could feel the roughness of his own scars. but the sound of your voice was something he had coveted more than he wanted to admit.

“i miss ya,” he said finally, the words a simple gesture of affection but they carried emotion that he rarely revealed to you, “more than anything. you know that?”

your heart swelled with an unmistakable hankering for him, one that you had never experienced before. you wanted no more than to be in his arms again, for him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you embraced each other.

“mhm,” you hummed, finger absentmindedly twisting around the phone cord as his voice echoed through your head.

then came another pause, but the mood had shifted, a distinctive tension passing through the line. the momentary penitence that logan had felt was still present, but it wasn’t the prominent thought in his mind.

“never stopped thinkin’ about you,” he spoke again, voice trailing off into a quiet murmur. you both knew where this was heading, but it was unknown territory.

“just ask me what i’m wearing,” you whispered encouragingly, a roguish smile crossing your face.

“what’re you wearing, darlin’?”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, faint puffs of breath leaving your lips as you reached out to peel the silk duvet off your reclined form.

“one of your shirts,” you whispered, fingertips brushing against each button of his flannel.

you had plucked the shirt from the laundry basket earlier today, enveloping yourself in the heady, manly scent. wearing his flannels to bed had become a ritual for comfort, which came to be incredibly fortunate.

“nothing underneath,” you followed on, fingertips running up and down the thin fabric.

logan let out a low growl in rejoinder, his jeans tightening as the image of you wearing nothing but his flannel flooded through his mind. he felt a fleeting note of shame from getting aroused so quickly, but you always had that effect on him, there was no benefit in denying it.

“is that so?” he spoke, his voice dropping an obvious octave.

his free hand snaked down towards his belt, unbuckling it with a deft precision. the soft metallic clink of the prong releasing resounded across the line, the vivid picture of logan freeing his erection from the confines of his boxers sending warmth through your body.

“wish you were here to help me, baby,” he murmured, his voice now a sultry tone.

there was an unequivocal tremble in your breath as his words registered, his sultry tone sending heat directly towards your core. you squeezed your legs together gently, your inner thighs slick with arousal.

“touch yourself for me, baby. give me something to keep me goin’ until i get back,” logan commanded serenely, the underlying hunger in his voice betraying his true intentions.

“okay,” you whispered, obliging to his order almost immediately due to the growing ache between your legs.

your hand glided down the plane of your chest and down your midriff, slowly dipping beneath the hem of logan’s flannel. you adjusted yourself against the mattress, parting your legs slightly and reposing into the pillows.

the handset was still fitted between your head and shoulder, causing your neck to strain scarcely. but you paid no mind to that, gradually working your hand down towards your glistening folds, moist with anticipation.

“god…” you suppressed a moan, your lower lip slipped between your teeth to silence yourself.

“c’mon, don’t hold out on me. i wanna hear all those pretty little moans,” logan whispered, tugging down his jeans and yanking his boxers down slightly.

he freed his pulsing erection, thick veins running along the shaft, stopping at his glossy tip. he grasped the handset firmly in one hand, leaking cock in the other. his calloused palm added a partial bit of extra friction, already causing his ragged breaths to huff heavier.

your fingers finally came into contact with your soaked pussy, a quick gasp escaping your lips at the sudden connection. your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, adjusting to the feeling of your fingers working their way over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“f-fuck…logan,” you moaned, beginning to set a rhythmic circling motion around your clit.

the sound of his name elicited from your lips like that was enough to make him come undone. his grip tightened on the handset, his other hand sliding up and down his length at a slow pace. his jaw tensed, pleasure sparking through his lower half as he jerked himself off.

“that’s it, baby…lemme hear ya,” logan cooed, proceeding to work his hand against his length, pre-cum beading at the tip.

his words sent you into a moaning frenzy, your hips bucking up against your fingers as they continued their stimulating assault. your mind was solely focused on imagining logan beside you, picturing that they were his fingers instead of yours.

“fuck,” he groaned, uneven breaths leaving his lips as he picked up the pace, the pleasure building up at a rapid pace. the sound of your moans drove him unruly, his mind painted with how you looked. all sprawled out on the bed, cheeks rosy and fingers slick with your fluids.

the two of you simultaneously pleasured yourselves, the delicious cocktail of moans mixing together. all of the built up longing was being appeased, a temporary distraction from the distance between you both.

“feels s’good,” you uttered, opening your eyes to glance down at your fingers and the arousal that coated them.

you swallowed thickly, gnawing at your bottom lip as you prodded one against your entrance. you brows furrowed at the sensation, jaw slacking as you slowly slipped your finger inside. the intrusion took a few seconds to adapt to, before you decided to add another.

“logan!” you whined, another digit sinking into your tight channel.

logan’s whole body tensed at the sound of your voice switching to a higher pitch, a grunt escaping through his gritted teeth. he fisted his cock quicker, knuckles repeatedly grazing against the coarse hair at his base. his hand was slick with pre-cum, eyebrows upturned in bliss with every pump of his hand.

“that’s right, darlin’. so good for me,” he spoke breathlessly, clearly nearing the edge of release as he struggled to choke out the words.

goosebumps travelled up your body as you began to piston your digits in and out of your hole, the sound of his voice urging you on even further. the lewd sound of your fingers penetrating your tight hole filled the room, so audible that even logan could hear it. he let out a guttural groan in response, using all of his strength to refrain himself from cumming right there and then.

“need you, lo,” you cried, drool wetting your lips as they parted even wider.

“fuck, baby, i’m right here. focus on my voice,” he mandated hoarsely, stifling a guttural moan as he thrusted into his hand, pre-cum dribbling down his knuckles.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? you gonna listen to me?”

arousal dripped onto the under-sheet as you continued your movements, curling your fingers into a beckoning motion. tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, fingers plunging in and out of your taut hole.

“y-yes…i’m gonna cum,” you babbled, sporadic moans leaving your lips.

logan felt his orgasm approaching, his pace speeding up against his twitching cock, eager for that sweet release. he grunted softly, that familiar tension coiling low in his abdomen. his jaw slacked, his sealed clutch on the handset almost destroying it from how strong it was.

“cum for me, baby. make a mess for me,” he exhorted through a groan, feeding onto his approaching release with the faint sounds of your pussy and the sultry moans escaping your lips.

you relentlessly pumped your fingers into your aching hole, fingers gripping the silk under-sheet beneath you. the handset was still slotted between your head and shoulder, digging into your cheek. but the subtle pain mixed with the intense pleasure only pushed your further, hips jolting upwards as you felt your stomach tightening.

“f-fuck!” you shouted, your climax crashing over you at an intense force. your eyes turned white for a brief second, slipping back into your head as ecstasy rippled over your body in repeated motions.

logan came just a few seconds after you, bucking up into his hand as hot ropes of his seed spurted all over his abdomen, “f-fuckin’ christ…shit,” he rasped, shaky breaths escaping his lips as his motions slowed, milking his cock for all its worth.

your juices coated your fingers, glistening beneath the dim lighting of the bedroom. you slowly pulled them out of your channel, sighing heavily at the sudden emptiness. your chest rose and fell in exasperation, the aftershocks of the orgasm completely stilling you.

logan basked in the silence for a moment, staring down at the gluey mess of cum dribbling down his knuckles and onto his waistline, coating the coarse hair just below his pelvis.

“guess the wait was worth it then, huh?” logan finally spoke, chuckling breathlessly.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hiii! Could you please write some hurt comfort hero and villain? Where it has a “who did this to you” vibes! Thanks! No pressure if you don’t want to!

"You look..." The villain's gaze travelled slowly up the hero, taking in the hard lines of them, the uncanny iciness that had replaced a once warm, familiar face. "Different."

"And you look like hell. Let's get you out of here."

Despite the fact that the hero had just blown the villain's chains to smithereens, the villain didn't move. They leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall of their cell, still staring.

The hero's fingers flexed agitated at their sides.

"I can - if you're hurt, I can help you stand. I don't - you're safe now."

It was like an act they didn't know how to play any more. The script was the same, but the tongue behind the words was a sharper thing. A whittled thing. Made hard and venomous with desperation. Like the world had taken an axe to everything that made the hero them and started hacking.

"Who did this to you?" the villain demanded.

"What?"

"You're all..." Their head lolled, as they tried to tilt it customarily to one side. Their broken fingers hurt too much to wiggle them effectively in the hero's direction, but they did their best. "Not you. All..."

"They hurt you," the hero said. Flat. Deadly.

The villain wet their cracked, swollen lips. Their voice came out raspy. "I heard screaming."

"Yeah." Something dark and protective simmered in the hero's eyes. It looked awfully a lot like 'they deserved it'. Like how the villain's eyes used to look, through a mirror darkly, until the pain scorched through everything cold and steely inside them.

"You killed people. You killed...you came for me."

"We need to go," the hero said, through gritted teeth. "We need to get you out of here. Come on." The hero ducked down, only to falter when their gruff tug immediately made the villain's whole world go fuzzy with hurting. The touch turned gentle as the villain flinched. The hero's hands floundered, like they no longer knew the language of caring, but still remembered that they wanted to try.

A stupid prickle of tears stung the villain's eyes.

"Who did this to you? Who-"

"-Please," the hero said. "Put your arms around me. You need to work with me here. Please."

The villain wrapped their aching arms around the hero's shoulders. The hero lifted them up, holding them oh so carefully. Being upright was still enough to make the villain's vision pop and then blacken.

When they regained consciousness, they were walking through a slaughter house. Blood everywhere. As if a hurricane given teeth and claws had ripped through the building.

"Did I do this?" the villain asked.

"No, love."

But that wasn't quite right.

"No, I mean - I was gone," the villain said. Their head felt so fuzzy with everything they had been given, but the sharp edges of the hero were so clear, if only they could find the words to paint the picture half as well, let the knowledge swirling inside them settle. "You were on your own. How long have you been trying to rescue me?"

"It's going to be alright, okay? I've got you. You're alright."

"Are you?"

"I'm not the one who's been tortured!" It came out a snap, and maybe the villain should have flinched after an eternity of raised voices and raised weapons, but they didn't.

"You don't do so well on your own," the villain said instead, softly. "You never have."

The hero's throat bobbed as they swallowed, convulsive, choking something down. "Don't."

The villain raised a hand, rubbing their thumb over the gaunt line of the hero's face.

The hero flinched back.

"It's going to be alright," the villain said. "You're going to be alright. I've got you."

"You -" The hero laughed then, a broken thing. They jerked their head to the side but it didn't hide the tears glinting in their eyes. "Maybe let's not focus on me right now. You were - what they did to you - they told that they - I should have got here faster."

"I'm sorry they used me against you."

"Don't."

"Tell me their names?"

"They're all dead."

"Tell me anyway."

"I killed them."

"I know, love. Tell me anyway."

The hero swore, but the villain could practically watch some life creep back into those icy eyes. Some horror. Some thing that wasn't a stranger. Their hero. The hero held them a little tighter, cradling them a little closer against their chest.

"Just - later. Let me get you help. You need help."

Well, the villain couldn't argue with that. Still. Their own body didn't feel half as perturbing as the way the hero's eyes iced over again, determined to see through the job, to not shatter no matter what they'd done to get to where they were. To get the villain back. To save them.

They tucked themselves closer to the hero's chest, to their heart - thumping proof of life, proof of hope, proof that maybe they hadn't entirely lost the thing they cared about most of all.

Who did this to you?

But the villain didn't really need to ask.

The answer was always their own name.

[nemisuki]

A Special Day

Dating AU | You never felt the need to celebrate this 'special' day every year. But time it's different, the first year with your explosive boyfriend. And seems like he thinks differently.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, no angst, aged up, oneshot, bkg is a softie, gift giving, 1.3k word count

"So do you have any plans tomorrow?"

The sound of his voice breaks the silence between you two. The only other noise being the scribbles of her pencil and flipping of paper.

Her eyes don't break away from the math problem in her notebook, the source of her misery for the past 10 minutes.

In response to his question, the girl exhales a short hum while erasing her failed attempt of multiplication, "Not really."

A small pout begins to form on her face as she concentrates on the equation.

What sane person puts letters in math?

Listening to her reply, his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion, his hand pausing from completing the assignment in front of him.

He takes this opportunity to pause his studies, leaning back in his chair to stretch his limbs.

A small sigh exiting his mouth as he stands up to lift his arms over his head to give relief to his aching muscles.

"It's your birthday, don't ya want a party or go out to eat?"

At his movement, she takes a peek in his direction.

Her gaze roaming his backside - noticing the outline of his back muscles from that tank top he's wearing.

The combination of his shirt and the grey sweatpants loosely hanging on his waist was deadly.

It's even worse that he is completely unaware of the effect it has on her.

Seeing him take a break gave her an excuse to do the same.

She props herself off his bed with her elbows, now sitting up on the edge of his mattress with a small yawn, "Not really. I don't usually celebrate it."

"Like at all?" he turns back to look at her, noting the aloof expression on her face.

"I mean maybe when I was younger but not anymore.”

He examines her body language intensely, only to find no signs of discomfort.

So she really doesn’t want to celebrate huh.

I mean he understands, he wasn’t one to care about his own birthday either.

He steps closer to plop down beside her, looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “we should call it a night.”

“Yeah I should head back to my dorm now” she smiles, looking at how the moonlight accentuates his features, only enhancing the vision beside her.

“Just sleep over” he mumbles, already moving to lay down on his bed. Making room for her as he scoots towards the wall.

“And your roommate?”

“Shitty hair said he’s crashing at Raccoon eyes dorm. So turn off the lamp and come over here yeah?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh at his blunt demands, reaching over to shut off the lamp then resting beside him in an instant.

There's no way she'll let an opportunity like this go to waste.

With that, the blonde drapes the blanket over the two, looking almost offended that she didn't wrap her hands around him like she always does.

He isn't one for physical touch but he's gotten used to hers.

She seems to feel his stare and immediately scoots closer to curl up beside him, leaning her face into his chest.

Thankfully dismissing all his dramatic thoughts in an instant.

He wraps his arms around her torso to hold her close, "Real tired. Gonna sleep now, night."

"Mhm good night 'suki. I love you" she whispers back, closing her eyes to relish in his warmth.

A feeling she loves all too well.

"....love you too" he replies after a few seconds. Before his eyes fall close, allowing himself to drown in the feeling of her presence.

Already knowing what he must do tomorrow.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

Her eyes squint in response to the distant sound of raining pattering outside the window.

The once dark room is now filled with morning light peeking through cracks in the curtain.

A groan escaping her as she rubs her eyes awake, attempting to fight the invisible force that's trying to pull her back to eternal sleep.

Though under the covers, she shivers at the chilly room she's woken up too. Expecting to be tangled under the covers with her favorite blonde, yet is only faced with an imposter - a pillow taking his place.

It takes her a few minutes of mindlessly staring at the ceiling for her to sit up, but only due to the sound of the door slowly creaking open.

His figure comes into view as he closes the door behind him, placing a mysterious bag on his desk as he takes off his coat and tucks his umbrella away, "You just woke up?"

"Yeah just now. Where'd you go?" she tilts her head, ruling out the option that he had class since he doesn't have his bag.

She stands up and begins approaching him but he holds his hand up, making her pause in her tracks.

"Close your eyes for a minute" he mumbles quietly, all of a sudden avoiding her questioning gaze.

Despite her confusion, she doesn't ask to investigate further as her eyes flutter shut.

"Don't peek or I'll kill ya."

An amused smile appears on her face at his snarky comment, "I won't but if you don't hurry up I might fall back asleep."

The sound of rustling was heard in the room, as well as a small clicking sound shortly after.

"Can I look now?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"I told you already, not yet!"

Laughter escapes her as she impatiently waits, fidgeting her fingers as she hears him step closer.

"...Alright you can open them now."

She hums and her eyes slowly open, slightly squinting to adjust to the light of the room once again.

Once done, she looks ahead of her and is met with an overwhelming sight. Complete shock taking over her face.

Bakugo is standing there, holding up a small birthday cake with lit candles on top.

Her heart thumps louder in her chest, so much so that it almost drowns out the noise of rain happening outside the room.

And she wonders if he can hear it too.

"I uh... know what you said yesterday but it just-" he holds the cake closer to her face, "didn't feel right to me."

Her gaze roams across the cake, pretty cursive letters in frosting spelling out 'Happy Birthday Y/N' on the surface. Along with her favorite pieces of fruit scattered around the edges.

"You didn't have to" she mumbles, a thankful smile taking over her face the more she stares at the cake.

"Well I wanted to. Now blow out the candles, nerd."

Holding back a laugh, she takes a moment to look at him, "Not gonna sing for me?"

"Hah! In your dreams maybe. Hurry up would ya? My arms getting tired here" he rolls his eyes at her teasing, the tip of his ears turning a soft pink from embarrassment.

She holds back a wide smile and blows out the candles before he grows more shy.

"What flavor is it?"

"You're favorite one, obviously" he huffs, stepping away to set the cake down on his desk.

As her gaze lingered on him, a sudden feeling took over her whole body.

She notices the small puddle forming under his wet shoes, a mini bouquet of her favorite flowers resting in a vase he must've bought earlier and a gift bag carefully placed on the sidelines.

Katsuki Bakugo hates the rain. Avoids it at all costs.

Yet he willingly went out in this downpour to buy her these things.

Ah....

"Oi do you want a one slice or-"

His words falter when her hands suddenly wrap around his waist from behind. Her face resting against his back, not wanting him to see as silent tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you Katsuki."

He stays silent, feeling the back of his shirt grow damp from her quiet cries.

A sigh exits his mouth as he prys her hands away, spinning around to hold her close to his chest. Rubbing her back in gentle circles and whispering rare words of reassurance.

"Yeah yeah let it all out. I got ya" he mumbles, knowing exactly how to calm her down.

She just needs him there to hold her as he always does.

And he'll stick around - for her.

"Happy Birthday Y/N."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| hey hey everyone! It's actually my birthday today so I quickly wrote this up hehe. Sorry if it's a bit choppy, this was rushed. Anywaysss I finally made a taglist - so if you want to get tagged in my bakugo fics then click on this link!

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

His Empire of Desire

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || After a gruelling day with maintaining his criminal empire, Bucky returns home to you, seeking comfort and passion in your touch and words.

World Count || 3016

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mob/mafia business, mention of violence/torture/murder, explicit content/language, pet names, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging/choking, fingering, spanking, rough fucking, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note || It’s been a whiiiiile… Hopefully I’m back for good now. But anyways, this is a WIP that I started at the beginning of 2023 and I finally finished a few days ago. Enjoy, and I will be back with more fics soon. But I’ll be taking my time and not rushing/stressing myself with it. I want to have fun and write again, but I won’t force it when I don’t have energy so there won’t be weekly fics most likely.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

Once the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting shadows over the city’s towering buildings, Bucky made his way home after another demanding day maintaining his criminal empire. The day, much like the others, had been a grueling mix of meetings, negotiations, and the unsettling business of violence that defined Bucky’s world of organized crime. Accustomed to the daily occurrences of bloodshed, torture, and death, even the strongest individuals, like Bucky, had their moments when frustration and weariness weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. All Bucky craved was solace and comfort in the embrace of his wife’s warmth and love, concluding the night with the pleasure of burying himself deep within her. That singular thought occupied his mind as he sat in the backseat of the Rolls, heading towards the penthouse that overlooked the city—his sanctuary, his kingdom, and you, his Queen.

“Have a good evening, Sir,” Bucky’s chauffeur nodded firmly in the rearview mirror, receiving an equal parting nod as Bucky stepped out of the car.

As Bucky ascended the private elevator, his fingers itched intensely for your presence, yearning to wash away the day’s cruelty with your loving touch and mend his wounds with your caring words. The ascent to his and your floor, typically swift, felt like an eternity. Leaning his forehead against the mirrored elevator walls, hands clenched on each side of his head, he muttered to himself, “Come on, come on. Hurry the fuck up. I fucking need her.”

Finally, on the top floor, the elevator pinged and opened, revealing the vast penthouse. Bucky swiftly departed, entering the one place where he truly felt safe and at home. The familiar scent of your shared home immediately calmed him, normality easing his frustrations. As he entered the spacious living room, soft music filled the space, accompanied by the sound of your bare footsteps drawing closer. It was everything he had longed for after his gruelling day.

The ache he felt for you gradually faded as you approached. Clad in a silk robe, your captivating form moved with confidence, the curves of your body dancing beneath the expensive material. Your face, bare and glowing, reflected the wear and tear of your own long day.

Though Bucky adored when you were all primed and dolled up, there was an ethereal quality about you when stripped down to your natural beauty that captivated him even more.

He released a deep, heavy breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, eyes closing briefly in bliss at the anticipation of you finally being beside him.

“Bucky,” you murmured as you stood before him, assessing him with a hint of worry. His shoulders sagged under the weight of the day, his eyes pleading. You understood immediately—he needed you now more than ever. Sensing his need for your presence and words, you prepared to offer the comfort he sought.

“Baby, you look exhausted,” you murmured, pressing yourself against him, cupping the back of his skull with your hands, thumbs softly grazing his earlobes. Your shimmery eyes met his weary gaze.

He groaned quietly as he leaned his forehead against yours. His fingers spread across the silky material on your hips, pulling you closer, needing the reassurance of your body. “Doll, I fucking need you,” he groaned, pushing his fingers harder into your covered flesh. “Now more than ever, baby.” His plea blended fiery lust with loving need.

“Come on,” you mumbled, laying a feather-light kiss on his lips, soft fingers laced with his calloused ones. “I know just what you need,” you purred, promising to provide whatever he needed—whether it be a loving cuddle and kisses or an intense physical connection, to bend you over and fuck your body and mind senseless. You were his.

You guided him through the dark hall to the luxurious en-suite, where the spacious marble shower awaited. Turning on the cascading stream of warm water, you beckoned him to come closer and let you take his stress away.

“Let me take your stress away, baby,” you purred, approaching him once again. Bucky watched your movements intently, the weariness in his eyes transforming into a look of pure lust and the longing for the gentle care only his wife could provide.

With your hands at the lapels of his suit jacket, you pulled it away from his firm body, letting it fall to the floor. Slowly, while never breaking your gaze from his fiery eyes, you unbuttoned each button with precise movements, pushing the fabric of his muscular torso. Your eyes roamed over his chiseled physique as your hands lay flat on his pecs, adorned with specs of hair. Your palms moved down the planes of his firm muscles, making him moan at your gentle touch. Unbuttoning his suit pants, you pulled them down along with his underwear, leaving him standing naked before you.

Unfastening the sash of your silk robe, you let it drop, standing completely naked before him. Taking his hand in yours, you led him into the steaming shower, the warm mist enveloping you both.

Bucky stood under the shower head, letting the water soak him from head to toe, washing away the burdens of the day. You joined him, placing your palms on his chest with a gentle touch as you stood flush against him—your bodies melded together by the water. His hardening cock pressed against your abdomen. He dropped his gaze to your burning eyes that mirrored his own, before trailing them over your naked and wet body, intensifying the heat.

With a groan, he knotted his fingers in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist. Your arms curled underneath his, placing your palms on his muscular back. Your pulse quickened with excitement, knowing where the evening was headed. All that was needed was your encouragement for Bucky to take it in the direction he desired.

“I’m yours, Bucky. Take what you need. Take me. Love me. Use me. Do whatever you need and desire right now. My body and mind are yours.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, claiming and owning your mouth. His sweet and tender kisses quickly escalated into firm and needy ones. The tip of his tongue swept your bottom lip, pleading for your taste. As your tongues met, his fingers tightened in your hair, and his hand slapped the apple of your ass, followed by a firm squeeze. You whined into his mouth, pushing your body into his wet and slippery one, surrendering yourself.

Your hand wrapped around his firm cock in a tight squeeze, jerking his length in deep and slow motions while your tongue continued to dance with his. Bucky pulled away with your bottom lip between his teeth, groaning against your puffy lips as he slowly fucked himself into your grip.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” you purred against his lips, flicking the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip. “I’m all yours.”

“Get on your knees, baby,” he growled. “Suck my cock like the whore I know you are for it.” His hand came up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pussy throb without suffocating you. “I’ll make you cry and choke on it while I fuck your mouth, use that tight throat.” A moan of need escaped at his filthy words. You loved being his adoring wife and his dirty whore. His lips curled in a satisfied smile at the duality you embodied—Whore and Queen.

He let you go, and without hesitation, you pressed sloppy kisses to his chest. Fingers traced the dips and planes of his chiseled physique as you continued kissing and licking down his body—his abs, his defined v-line—until you were lowered on your knees before him, mouth agape as you stared at him through your lashes. The water from the shower head above made his body gleam, intensifying the irresistible appeal of him towering over you. His cock stood fully erect, practically begging for attention, begging to be sucked. A shiver ran through your body, and a whimper escaped your lips as your pussy throbbed, eager for the same treatment your throat would soon receive—getting fucked and bruised.

Aroused with anticipation, your body practically shaking, you grasped him firmly in your hand as your tongue traced the protruding veins along his shaft, licking up to his bulbous head. Kissing and sucking the tip, you moaned at the taste of him. With no patience left, Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to release him from your mouth. His hot gaze met yours as a stinging yet delicious tug prompted a sharp gasp from your lips as tears welled in your eyes—the first of many for the evening.

“Don’t tease me, doll. I’ve had enough of being undermined today,” he groaned, his voice laced with cruel warning. “Now suck it like the pretty little whore I know you are for it.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be your good little whore.”

Obediently complying, you engulfed his length as Bucky’s guttural groan vibrated off the shower walls. Your choice of words, and taking him all with no hesitation, only fueled his burning desire.

You took him deep, inch by thick inch until all of him nestled in your throat. Tears ran down your already wet cheeks, and the sensation of your lips wrapped around him and your throat suffocating his cock with your choked coughs made Bucky tip his head back in bliss. Moaning thickly, he pushed his hips forward into your compliant mouth.

Withdrawing to catch your breath, a thick string of saliva trailed from your lips to his tip. A testament to your eagerness to please the man above you.

“So gorgeous,” Bucky smirked, looking down at you with tears and saliva running down your chin. “Such an eager whore to please me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your lips.

With no further hesitations, you wrapped your hand tightly around the base to jerk him off, while your mouth engulfed his swollen and leaking tip. Your hand and mouth worked in perfect sync—jerking him with force and delicious pressure while your head bobbed on his cock, slurping and sucking. Bucky’s hips met your movements, making you choke and gag by his rough thrusts. Your other hand squeezed and kneaded his firm ass cheek, pulling him closer and anchoring yourself to him as you sucked him off.

Bucky’s vocalization became a hot and heavy symphony of moans, groans, and every guttural sound in between—a testament to you working him thoroughly with your hands and mouth.

His hips jerked, his muscles tensing, on the verge of climax, and spilling into your mouth, and you wanted nothing more than a taste of him. But he pulled you off before he could finish down your throat, making you wheeze and chest heave to catch your breath after he released you.

Reading the disappointment on your face, he brushed your tear and water-stained cheeks and swollen lips, a smirk playing on his own. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll come down your throat next time.” His voice was low and sultry, laced with delicious promise. “I need to feel your tight cunt wrapped around me, now.”

Helping you up, he met your lips in a sloppy kiss, slapping your ass with a force that made you gasp before turning you around and directing you to bend over for him on the marble bench.

You bent over, placing your forearms on the cold stone, presenting your ass for him. The view of both your tight holes a tantalizing sight for him.

During the blowjob, your pussy had throbbed with need, eager for the same treatment as your throat, and you had never felt as frustrated as you had now, waiting for his cock. Looking over your shoulder at Bucky, his fist jerking his cock as his hot and burning gaze trailed over your dripping cunt, which he would fill and come deep inside.

“Please, Bucky,” you cried. “I need you cock so bad.” Your voice thick with desperate desire to be fucked and used by him. “Please, please, fuck me. Use me. Use my cunt.” You knew after the day he had that the fuck would be brutal, and you would love nothing more. You loved his gentle and caring nature that he reserved only for you, but you also loved to be used and fucked like a whore by him. The duality of his two sides only makes you love him deeper with each passing day.

He chuckled, relishing the power he held over you, the absolute desperation in your pleading voice and submissive body. “Patience, doll,” he replied with a low growl. “I’ve had a rough day, and I will take my time with you.”

He firmly kneads your ass in his palms, rough hands grabbing and squeezing the flesh before delivering a sharp slap that sends a jolt of pleasurable pain up your spine. Your toes curl, and a whimper escapes your parted lips as the cruel laughter from Bucky fills the space. Despite the sobs and cries during the next two spanks, your pussy grows wetter at his cruelty, soaking your inner thighs.

Bucky curses under his breath, running two fingers through your messy folds, circling your needy clit in teasing strokes. A breath of relief escapes you at finally being stimulated, even though it’s not at the satisfaction you crave. He groans as he pushes two fingers inside your wet cunt, fucking it in slow strokes, making your breath shake at the stretch.

“What made you this wet, doll? Sucking and choking on my cock, or me spanking and bruising your ass?”

“B-both,” you reply with a shaky voice.

“That’s my good whore,” he growls, softly patting your ass where his brutal hands landed.

With the head of his cock, he teases your bundle of nerves, before slowly and oh-so-deliciously pushing his length inside your welcoming cunt. You moan and whine through your swollen and parted lips as he stretches you out to accommodate his size. “Fuck, so tight, baby.”

He forces the rest of his length balls deep, making you gasp, while he moans, at stuffing you completely. “Ah, fuck… so big,” you whine, closing your eyes and fists tightly, adjusting to him.

With a low, throaty chuckle in response to your reaction, Bucky gives you a moment before setting his rhythm, hands firmly gripping your soft hips, fingers digging into your skin.

He holds nothing back as he unleashes himself, intensifying the brutal pace, thrusting deeply into your pussy like his existence depends on it. The tip of his swollen cock repeatedly brushes against your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your nerves, eliciting soft whimpers from your lips.

“So good for me, doll. Such a tight, pretty pussy,” he grunts, lost in the sensation of your cunt and the pleasure it brings him.

You tilt your head to meet his burning gaze, the fiery passion in his eyes searing your exposed and submitted body before him.

“Fuck, it’s all yours, baby. All of me. Only for you,” you whimper, the soft symphony of your gentle whispers and moans enticing Bucky closer to the edge, fucking you roughly and chasing his high. “Keep using it, baby. Claim me. Take what you want,” you urge, your words a breathless plea for him to keep unleashing his pent-up anger and frustrations on your eager and pleading cunt.

As you ascend to pleasurable heights, your impending orgasm closing in swiftly, the clenching of your walls around his pulsating cock signals his pending release as well. His hand slides around your throat, lifting you upright amidst his primal thrusts.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? Come on my cock as I fill your greedy cunt?” His gruff voice sends a shiver down your spine.

The searing pleasure, coupled with the firm grip on your throat, leaves you with no choice but to nod, conveying that you are close to an eruption with an earth-shattering explosion.

“Open that pretty mouth for me and use your words, doll.” A sharp slap to your thigh jolts you out of the haze, prompting you to gather yourself and respond to his demand.

“Yes,” you managed to gasp. “I’m gonna come. I need you to come inside me, baby,” you cry, craving his warmth like a good whore.

With those pleading words, Bucky surges over the edge. His grunts and moans resonating against your skin as he fills you up with his cum. The sensation of him pulsing and filling within you and the rhythmic movement of his hips have you tumbling over the edge. Waves of your release ripple through your body, shaking and convulsing, your cries of pleasure echoing off the tiled walls.

“Good girl,” Bucky moaned against your skin. His fingers skillfully play with your engorged clit to heighten the downfall of your orgasm. “You take my cock and cum so well.” He continued to fuck and talk you through it, ensuring that your mind and body were consumed with nothing but pleasure and him.

The shared climax left you both suspended in the aftermath of your intense fucking. The air thick with echoes of your breathless satisfaction.

“Hmm, my good girl,” Bucky muttered, withdrawing from your used cunt and turning you around. The warm water of the shower continued to rain down on you both, washing away the shared evidence of your intense and passionate lovemaking.

Bucky cupped your cheeks, brushing his thumbs across the skin beneath your eyes. His hands, which held your body with force only moments ago, now cradled your face as if you were the most delicate of artworks, which to him, you were more than a masterpiece. He captured your lips, kissing you with a mix of passion and need. Your arms held his waist, bringing his slick body closer to yours.

“Let’s get out and dry off, doll. I need to bury my face in that pretty cunt of yours before I hold you in my arms and express how much you mean to me for the rest of the night.”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

[vanteguccir]

i can’t stop thinking about when matt has been gone for a while and ur too tight and he gets frustrated because he keeps slipping out 😣

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTOO TIGHT * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Matt's cock keeps slipping out of Y/N after he was away for too long

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　SMUT (mdni)

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt had been gone for three long weeks, traveling with his brothers, and every day without him had felt like an eternity for Y/N. The moment he walked through the bedroom door, they barely managed to exchange a few words before they were all over each other, lips crashing together with full force.

Matt's hands roamed over Y/N's body, relearning every curve, every dip that he had missed so much. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could never get enough of him. They stumbled towards the bed, shedding clothes along the way.

By the time they reached it, Y/N was breathless, her body trembling with anticipation, and Matt's eyes were dark with lust as he looked down at her, his chest heaving.

"Fuck sweetheart, missed you s'much." He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that mirrored her own.

Matt's hands were everywhere, caressing, squeezing, and teasing, eliciting soft moans from Y/N's lips. He kissed his way down her neck, over her collarbone, and to her tits, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently before giving the same attention to the other. Y/N arched her back, pressing herself against him, desperate for more.

When Matt finally positioned himself between her legs, Y/N was already wet and ready for him, her body aching with need. He took his time, teasing her folds with the head of his cock, spreading her arousal over himself.

"M-Matt- fuck, please! I need-" She whimpered, her hips bucking. But as he began to push inside her, he found it difficult. She was so tight, her body not having had him for so long that he could barely get his tip in.

"God, babe." He groaned, his voice rough with need. "You're so tight... I can't..." He tried again, pushing slowly, savoring the way her body enveloped him, but just as he felt his tip slip inside, it popped back out.

The sensation was maddening for both of them. The brief moment of penetration sent jolts of pleasure through Matt, making his breath hitch, and his grip on her thighs tighten. For Y/N, the feeling of being stretched, even momentarily, was electrifying. But each time he slipped out, it left them both on the edge, the pleasure cut short.

"Fucking hell, angel. How could you even become this tight? Never been like this since I fucked y'for the first time."

Matt's jaw clenched in frustration, widening her legs even more in an almost painful way. He adjusted his angle, trying to find a way to ease himself in without losing control.

He pressed forward again, feeling the delicious resistance as her tightness gave way, the head of his cock slipping just inside her entrance, a sigh of relief escaping his lips, but as he tried to push further, he slipped out again, the sudden loss of contact leaving him groaning in frustration.

Y/N could see the tension in his eyes, the way his muscles strained, a moan escaping her lips with the vision, moving her hips against nothing.

"Damn it-" Matt growled, his voice low and harsh. "So tight, can't even take me properly." He pushed in again, only to slip out, and Y/N whimpered at the loss. "Pathetic, huh, angel? Desperate for it, and yet your body can't handle it. Can't handle my cock."

Y/N's breaths came in quick, shallow gasps as she felt him tease her entrance again and again. The brief moments of penetration were enough to send sparks of pleasure through her, making her body tremble. But each time he slipped out, the pleasure was abruptly cut off, leaving her whimpering for more.

Matt's frustration reached its peak. The need to be inside her overwhelmed him. With a growl, he gripped her hips tightly - knowing for sure her skin would be bruised by morning - and thrust forward with force, burying himself inside her in one swift, deep stroke.

Y/N cried out, her body stretching to accommodate him. The initial pain of his forceful entry sent a shockwave through her, but it was quickly overtaken by a flood of intense pleasure. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to breathe. The sensation of being so utterly filled, so completely taken, made her stomach flutter wildly.

"Fuck, angel." Matt groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Squeezing me so good- like y'were made for me."

"Oh, Matt-" She moaned, her voice trembling. "Shit- so good... so full..."

Matt's eyes locked onto hers, his own breath ragged.

"Y'okay?" He asked, his voice low and strained, a drop of concern despite his overwhelming need.

Y/N desperately nodded, her body still quivering.

"Yes... don't stop... please..."

"Never." He heaved, wetting his lips. "Never gonna let'y without my cock that long again, sweetheart."

© vanteguccir

[agentstarkid]

IF IT MEANS YOU ✦ AZRIEL

✦ SUMMARY: Love is not afraid of the dark—it reaches for it, soft yet unyielding. Some things are worth breaking for. Some things are worth staying for. Even when the night threatens to consume them whole.

✦ WORD COUNT: 1.0K

✦ WARNINGS: angst is a given, fluff is a bonus; feelings of inadequacy — english is not my first language!

✦ MAY'S RADIO: holiiii, this is my first time writing for mr. azriel mcthottie 😌 i've been dying to write with/for him for a while now, but i was—am—too scared to dive into his world. BUT this is me forcing myself to get a little out of my comfort zone and it wouldn't be me if i didn't bring the angst to the party 🤭

< back to general masterlist

The night was thick with shadows, the velvety darkness wrapping around them like a cloak. The stars above Velaris flickered behind shifting clouds, casting fleeting silver glows over the rooftops. But Azriel’s expression remained unreadable, the golden light from the streetlamps barely reaching the sharp planes of his face.

His scarred hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he took a measured step back.

“You never should’ve trusted me.” His voice was rough, fractured. “I destroy everything I touch.”

The words sliced through the air, through the fragile space between them, but you didn’t flinch. You stood your ground, heart pounding, refusing to let him disappear into his own darkness again.

“Maybe I’m okay with being destroyed if it means staying with you.”

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, as if your words had physically struck him. His shadows curled around his shoulders, restless, uncertain. But beneath them, his wings trembled. He was unraveling, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost to the wind.

“Then make me understand.” You took a step forward, closing the distance. “Show me.”

His throat bobbed, shadows clinging to his skin like ink, but he didn’t move away this time. And when your fingers brushed his, his hand curled around yours—not in destruction, but in something achingly close to surrender.

Azriel’s grip tightened around your hand, calloused fingers rough against your skin. He was holding on, despite everything he had said, despite the war raging inside him.

Azriel exhaled, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. His shadows curled around you both, hesitant yet unwilling to pull away.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered.

You tilted your head, forcing him to look at you. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

His jaw clenched. “You think you do now, but one day, you’ll see. You’ll wake up and realize I was never meant to be yours. That I was never meant to have this.”

Your heart ached at the quiet devastation in his voice, at the way he said it like he was certain—like he had already accepted losing you before you’d even had the chance to be his.

So you stepped back. Just enough for his hands to slip from your waist, just enough for the night air to stretch between you. His brows furrowed, his hands twitching like they wanted to pull you back, but he forced himself to stay still.

“If that’s what you really believe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the war raging inside you, “then tell me to leave.”

Azriel’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His wings twitched, shadows curling around his fists.

You waited.

Seconds passed, stretching into eternity.

His throat bobbed, his jaw tight, his hands shaking.

But he never told you to go.

Instead, his voice broke as he whispered, “I can’t.”

And that was all you needed.

So you closed the distance again, pressing your palm over his racing heart. “Then stop trying to push me away.”

Azriel’s breath was ragged, his wings half-spread like he was preparing to bolt—but he didn’t. His hands hovered at his sides, clenched into fists, as if letting himself touch you again might truly make his worst fears come true.

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “You keep telling me I shouldn’t trust you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “That you destroy everything you touch.”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“So destroy me, then.”

Azriel flinched as if you had struck him. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You searched his face, looking for any sign that he would stop running. “I meant what I said, Az. Maybe I’m okay with being destroyed if it means staying with you.”

He let out a ragged breath, his wings trembling. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Don’t I?” His heartbeat thundered beneath your touch. “I know you. I know you’d rather tear yourself apart than hurt me. I know you love me.”

Azriel’s entire body locked up, his breath catching. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to pull you in, to keep you against him, but still, he hesitated.

So you made the choice for him.

You pushed up on your toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Soft. Gentle. A promise.

“I’m not afraid of your darkness,” you murmured against his skin. “But I think you are.”

Azriel let out a shaky breath, something crumbling in his expression. And then, finally—finally—he let go of whatever was holding him back.

His lips crashed against yours, kissing you like he was afraid you would disappear—like he was afraid he would disappear if he let go. His hands, so hesitant before, now gripped your waist with something close to desperation, fingers pressing into your skin as though anchoring himself to you—like he needed to be sure you were real, that you were his.

Your own hands slid up his chest, over the smooth leather of his fighting leathers, feeling the way his heart thundered beneath your palm. He was warm, solid, real.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his eyes darker than before. His wings had curled around the two of you, shielding you from the rest of the world, as if this moment was something sacred.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice raw. “How to be this.”

Your fingers traced the scars along his knuckles, grounding him. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

His throat bobbed. “You deserve better.”

“Hmm. Maybe, maybe not,” you teased, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “But I don’t want better. I want you.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the air from his lungs. For a long moment, he just looked at you, like he was memorizing every detail, every piece of you that had chosen him despite everything.

Then, something in him shifted. His shadows softened, no longer swirling with unease but settling around you both like a whispered vow.

“I don’t know how to be the person you deserve,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “But I’ll try.”

And this time, he didn’t let go.

< back to general masterlist

[whosashan]

Can I request what it’s like marrying Caleb? Maybe how he proposes, what it’s like leading up to the wedding and then the big day?

EVER AFTER, ALWAYS

PAIRING: Caleb x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: You had known Caleb your entire life, yet never could you have anticipated this moment—standing before the altar, heart pounding, as you awaited the moment your lives would be bound together, not just for a lifetime, but for eternity and beyond.

A/N: Thank you for the request. It came out a little longer than I intended it to be... but oh well! Hope you enjoy!

From stolen childhood laughter to whispered teenage confessions, from playful pillow fights to deep conversations beneath an endless night sky, your story with Caleb had always been written in moments—woven together like the fragile threads of fate, pulling you both toward this very day.

And now, here you stood, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, the evening air thick with the scent of roses and lavender, your heart caught between past and present. The garden around you was alive with color, petals swaying gently in the breeze, as if nature itself had paused to bear witness.

And there he was.

Caleb.

The boy who had grown beside you, who had laughed with you, fought with you, held you when the world was too heavy. The boy who had always been there, waiting, even before you realized he was meant to be yours.

He knelt before you now, one knee sinking into the soft earth, his fingers curled around your own as though he were afraid to let go. In his other hand, a velvet box rested—deep red, like the ripest apple, like the first blush of autumn. The color of first love and forever.

Time seemed to hold its breath.

The world around you softened into a hush—the rustling trees, the distant hum of birdsong, the gentle whisper of the wind fading into nothingness.

Because in this moment, there was only him.

Caleb looked up at you, the amber glow of dusk catching in his violet eyes, turning them into something ethereal. Eyes you had memorized long ago, eyes that had seen every version of you—the reckless, the broken, the whole—and still, still, they looked at you like you held the entire universe in your hands.

And for the first time, you saw something else there, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Not the usual mischief, not the teasing grin that so often curled his lips.

No, this was something deeper. Something unguarded.

Love, raw and aching and endless.

He exhaled, a breath that trembled ever so slightly, and then he spoke.

“Y/N,” he murmured, your name a prayer on his lips. “All my life, I have searched for the words to describe this feeling—this vast, uncharted love that has always led me back to you. And yet, standing here, with you before me, I realize there is no language vast enough to contain it.” His fingers tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “So I will not search for words. Instead, I will promise. I will promise you the first light of every morning, the warmth of every embrace, the last whispered thought before I sleep. I will promise you my laughter in times of joy, my strength in times of sorrow, and my hand in yours for every moment in between.”

His voice dropped lower, steady yet laced with something fragile, something sacred.

“So I ask you, not just as the love of my life, but as the keeper of my soul—Y/N L/N, will you take this ring, take this heart, take everything I am and everything I ever will be… and make me yours forever?”

The breath you had been holding shattered into a quiet, trembling sob.

You had known this man your entire life, but never had you felt the weight of his love so profoundly as in this moment.

Tears traced warm paths down your cheeks, your vision blurred, your chest aching with a love so full it threatened to consume you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. None that could possibly be enough.

So instead, you moved.

A soft, choked laugh escaped you as you threw yourself into his arms, knocking the both of you slightly off balance. Caleb let out a breathless chuckle, catching you as if he had always known you would fall into him. As if he had been waiting for it.

Your fingers curled into his hair, holding him close, closer, as if pressing yourself against him could somehow make this moment last forever.

“…I take that as a yes?” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, yet thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips trembling, your nod fervent. “Yes,” you whispered, and then again, firmer, surer, as if the word itself was sacred. “A thousand times yes.”

His breath hitched.

And then, with a slow, reverent smile, he pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger.

It glimmered in the last rays of sunlight, delicate yet strong, timeless yet new. Just like your love.

You stared at it for a moment, watching how it caught the light, how perfectly it fit—how perfectly it was chosen, as if Caleb had always known exactly what belonged on your hand.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words escaping you before you could even think.

And then, at the exact same moment, he said it too.

“I love you.”

You both stilled, eyes locking.

And then, laughter. Soft, breathless, unrestrained. The kind of laughter that came from something deeper than happiness—from something destined, something infinite.

He cradled your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath fanning over your lips.

“This,” he murmured, so softly it was barely a sound, “was always meant to be.”

And as the last light of day faded into the embrace of night, you knew—with every beat of your heart, with every breath in your lungs—that he was right.

This love, this moment, this life… it had always been written in the stars. ...

The wedding preparations were nothing short of nerve-wracking. No matter how much you had anticipated this day, no matter how eager you both were to begin forever, the sheer weight of ensuring perfection made it feel like an impossible feat.

You and Caleb had agreed on one thing from the start—you wanted it to be personal, intimate, a reflection of the love you had nurtured over the years. So, despite his many (many) attempts to convince you otherwise, you had stubbornly refused a wedding planner.

And now?

Now, the florist had canceled at the last minute, and you were seconds away from losing your mind.

"I can't believe this is happening," you groaned, burying your face in your hands. A frustrated whine escaped your lips, muffled by your own palms. "Flowers. We don't have flowers, Caleb! Do you know what kind of catastrophe that is?"

He did not, in fact, look like a man who knew the depths of this catastrophe. In fact, he looked entirely unbothered—leaning against the counter with that infuriatingly calm expression, as if you weren’t one disaster away from a breakdown.

You felt him move before you saw him, his presence as grounding as ever. With gentle fingers, he pried your hands away from your face, tilting your chin upward, his warm palms cradling your cheeks as if they were something delicate.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves, "breathe."

You did. Instantly.

Because Caleb had always had that effect on you—steadying you, anchoring you, reminding you that no storm was too great as long as he was by your side.

His thumbs brushed against your cheekbones in soft, lazy strokes. "I’ll take care of it, alright? No stress, no worries. Just leave it to me."

And somehow, just like that, you believed him. Because he had never once let you down.

You sighed, a slow exhale as your body leaned into his touch, as if drawn by something greater than gravity. "What would I ever do without you?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, rich and full of amusement, sending a warmth through you that settled deep in your bones. "Well," he mused, his lips curving into a smirk, "lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out."

And just to prove his point, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his embrace swallowing you whole, shielding you from the chaos that loomed outside these walls.

For a moment, everything felt lighter.

"How about this," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hairline, "I’ll give you a massage. Help you relax."

You hummed, already melting at the thought of his skilled hands working out the tension in your shoulders. "That sounds lovely… but no funny business, Caleb."

He laughed, the deep timbre of it sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I’ll try," he murmured, his hands already kneading at your muscles, drawing a contented sigh from you. Then, after a moment of silence, he leaned in just a little closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"But you make it incredibly difficult to behave."

...

The hours leading up to the ceremony were a blur—a chaotic, beautiful blur.

Morning arrived with golden sunlight spilling through the windows, warming your skin as you lay in bed, eyes fluttering open to the realization that today was the day. The day you would become Caleb’s wife.

Excitement and nerves danced in your stomach, making it impossible to stay still. Your bridal suite was a flurry of movement—soft laughter from your friends, the gentle hum of music, the scent of fresh flowers and perfume mixing in the air. Your dress hung by the window, bathed in sunlight, waiting.

As your hair was carefully pinned and your veil adjusted, your mind drifted back to the night before. To the way Caleb had held you close before you parted ways, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Tomorrow, you’ll be mine in every way possible. How am I supposed to survive the night without you?”

You had laughed softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “You’ll live. Barely.”

He had groaned, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand before reluctantly letting you go.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, dressed in white, the reality of it all settled deep in your chest. You were about to walk down that aisle, towards him, towards forever.

On the other side of the venue, Caleb was battling his own whirlwind of emotions. Gideon was fussing with his tie, muttering about how he looked like a man about to either pass out or run away. Caleb just huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

"Run away? Are you insane? I’d crawl down that aisle if I had to."

The teasing and laughter didn’t settle the way his heart was hammering, though. He kept glancing at the time, pacing, rubbing the back of his neck. He had waited his whole life for this moment—what was another hour? And yet, it felt like an eternity.

...

The air was thick with the scent of roses and fresh earth, the kind of aroma that carried the promise of something eternal. The sky above stretched vast and endless, a delicate shade of blue, as if the heavens themselves had softened for this moment. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily, painted in golden hues by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the garden where your life was about to change forever.

Flowers—more than you could name—lined the aisle in an unbroken path of color, swaying gently in the breeze, whispering secrets of love and forever. The soft murmur of guests filled the air, their voices laced with joy, but none of it truly reached you. Not the delicate music played by the string quartet. Not the rustling of leaves. Not the faint laughter that danced like wind chimes in the distance.

Because standing at the end of that aisle, waiting for you, was Caleb.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

He looked breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored suit, dark and crisp against the sunlit backdrop, he was a vision of effortless grace. But it wasn’t the suit, nor the way his tie was slightly undone at the collar—as if he’d grown impatient and loosened it himself—that had your breath catching in your throat.

It was his eyes.

The same ones you had memorized over the years, the ones that held the weight of childhood mischief, teenage rebellion, and a love that had only deepened with time. They were locked onto you, filled with something indescribable—something vast, infinite.

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and you swore your knees almost gave out beneath you.

As you took your first step down the aisle, the world seemed to slow, each moment stretching into something eternal. Every petal, every blade of grass beneath your feet, every brush of the wind against your skin—it all felt sacred, woven into the fabric of this moment.

Your dress trailed behind you like a whisper, delicate lace catching the sunlight, turning it into something ethereal. With every step closer, the weight of the past—the late-night drives, the whispered confessions, the laughter, the fights over who got the last slice of pizza—all of it bloomed into something tangible, something undeniable.

And then, finally, you were standing before him.

Caleb reached for you immediately, his fingers brushing against yours, grounding you. There was something reverent in the way he looked at you, as if you were something divine, something he had spent lifetimes searching for.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured at last, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

A soft laugh left your lips, your heart thundering against your ribs. "You’re not so bad yourself."

The officiant spoke, but the words barely registered. All you could focus on was the way Caleb held your hands in his, the way his thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

And then—

"Do you, Caleb, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, to cherish, in this life and the next?"

His gaze never wavered, his voice steady as he said, "For as long as the stars burn in the sky, for as long as my heart beats, for as long as forever exists—I do."

A sharp breath hitched in your throat.

"Y/N," the officiant turned to you, his words warm, gentle, "do you take Caleb to be your husband, to stand beside him in all that life brings, to love him fiercely and without end?"

Your lips parted, but for a moment, the words refused to come. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because no string of syllables could ever truly capture the magnitude of what you felt for him.

So, instead, you laced your fingers with his, squeezing them gently, as you whispered, "Caleb, I have loved you in every way a person can love another. As a friend, as a partner, as someone whose soul has been intertwined with mine long before we ever knew to call it love. I would choose you a thousand times over. In every lifetime, in every version of reality, it will always be you."

The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

And then—

"You may now kiss the bride."

A slow grin tugged at Caleb’s lips, something smug, something utterly breathtaking. He tugged you close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"About time," he murmured, before pressing his lips to yours.

The world dissolved.

There was no audience, no fluttering petals, no music swelling in the background. There was only the warmth of his hands on your waist, the soft sigh against your lips, the unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

And as he kissed you, the wind carried the sound of laughter, of cheers, of love—wrapping around you both like a whispered blessing.

...

The reception was a blur of soft candlelight, laughter, and the gentle hum of conversation. The scent of roses and jasmine lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of champagne and something sweet—perhaps the wedding cake waiting to be cut. Everything had been beautiful, everything had been perfect, but none of it compared to this moment.

The moment Caleb held out his hand to you, his gaze soft, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Dance with me, love.”

The words were a whisper, but they wrapped around your heart like silk. Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours as he guided you to the center of the dance floor. The lights dimmed slightly, and the first chords of your song filled the room—soft, slow, intimate.

Caleb’s hands found your waist, pulling you in close, your bodies fitting together effortlessly, like two halves of a whole. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you simply stood there, swaying gently before he spoke, his voice so low only you could hear it.

“You’re breathtaking.” His violet eyes shimmered under the golden glow of the chandeliers, pure adoration pouring from them.

A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips. “You’ve already married me, Caleb. You don’t need to keep sweeping me off my feet.”

“Oh, love,” he murmured, spinning you slowly, his grip never faltering. “I plan on spending forever doing exactly that.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest as you gazed up at him, memorizing the way he looked in this moment—his dark hair slightly tousled from your fingers, the softest smile gracing his lips, his hands holding you like you were something precious.

The world faded.

The guests, the music, the laughter surrounding you—it all melted into the background.

There was only Caleb.

Only the way he was looking at you, like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he still couldn’t believe you were his.

Your forehead rested against his, the slow, rhythmic movement of the dance feeling more like an embrace than anything else.

“I love you, husband” you whispered, feeling the words press against his skin.

Caleb let out a soft breath, his hands tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go.

“I love you more, wife” he murmured, pressing the lightest kiss to your lips before pulling you back into the dance, his voice a promise in the quiet.

“Always.”

[romancherry]

the bratty chronicles #1: how my swollen ankle earned me a spanking

pairings ➝ joel miller x female!reader

summary ➝ joel punishes you because you went on patrol with a swollen ankle.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, unprotected vaginal sex, brat taming, edging, manhandling, spanking as a form of punishment, daddy kink, dominant & brat tamer!joel, submissive & brat!reader, begging, rough sex, squirt, creampie, aftercare, praise, a bit of degradation, pet names, dirty talk, explicit language and swearing, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 2.339

author's note ➝ hello everyone! i am doing everything but update caged in silk oops. i'm sorry but i'm in my bratty girl era and i really think joel is the best person to put someone in their place so i needed to get this out of my system and on your screens. if you enjoyed then PLEASE leave a comment or a reblog with your opinions!! they motivate me so much 🌸

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

"where the hell you been?"

your boots had barely hit the floor with mud still caked up your calves from the patrol you weren't supposed to be on.

you open your mouth to give some smartass response, but joel's already crossing the room, arms crossed over his broad chest, jaw ticking with that kind of restrained fury that makes your stomach twist with guilt and excitement at the same time.

"i told you no. i told you your ankle ain't ready. and what do you do? sneak off like some reckless little brat, thinkin' you know better than me."

you scoff, trying to hold your ground. "i handled it just fine. you're overreacting."

joel steps closer, towering over you, heat radiating off him like a furnace. "that so? you limpin' says otherwise. you think fine means draggin' yourself back home after dark with a busted ankle and no radio?"

he grabs your chin, but not rough, just firm enough to make you look at him.

"you wanna act like a mouthy brat, fine. but brats get tamed, sweetheart. you wanna play that game with me, i promise you — i'll remind you exactly who you belong to and why you listen when i give you an order."

your breat catches. defiant fire still flickers in your eyes even as your body betrays you: tighs pressing together, mouth watering, pulse racing.

joel's mouth curves into a knowing, dark smirk.

"thought so."

he drags the chair from the table and sits, legs spread. the perfect picture of calm authority.

"come here."

you hesitate. just a flicker. but that's all he needs. his brow lifts.

"now."

you move forward. ankle aching. pride wounded deeper.

he hooks a finger into the waistband of your pants and tugs you over his knee like it's the most natural thing in the world.

like this is routine. like you've earned it.

except — it is routine and you do deserve it. you've been a brat your entire life. joel took you as you are and made it his problem and mission to deal with you. conquer you. cage you.

it never worked.

"you wanna disobey? wanna put yourself in danger like a damn fool? then you take your consequences like a big girl too."

your pants come down humiliatingly slow and cool air hits your skin. you squirm, but joel's gand presses firmly on your back.

"uh-uh. you don't move. you don't speak, unless i tell you to."

the first smack is sharp. nothing soft about it. not with the anger still simmering beneath his skin. each hit lands with purpose. doesn't matter when they start to sting, burn, make your eyes water. you're supposed to take them like a good girl.

"you think it's cute sneakin' off?" smack.

"you could've gotten killed," smack.

"you don't get to scare me like that, baby,"

smack. smack. smack.

an eternity and a couple more brutal hits later, your body has molded into a puddle and your fire dulled. your voice reduced to a soft, breathy mess of apology and guilt.

your thighs are trembling. he slides a hand between them, fingers finding you embarassingly slick.

"told you. brats get tamed."

then he drags you up and makes you straddle his lap, your sore ass pressing against his jeans while he kisses your neck soft and grounding. you don't miss the fact that he is rock hard in his pants. the thought makes you chuckle internally. what a perveted old man.

"you don't do that again," he murmurs, voice so rough against your ear it pulled you out of your naughty thoughts. "you listen to me next time. or else, i won't be this gentle."

he holds you against him, your body squirming in his lap. every breath is a struggle between wanting to truly melt into him and cry out or not give him a moment of peace and tease him until he fucks you so hard you won't sit for a week.

"shh," he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. "you're alright now. gotcha."

his fingers glide through the mess he's already made of your pussy.

"you feel that? how wet you are from gettin' put in your place?"

you whimper, hips rocking instinctively, chasing more.

he stills you with one arm around your waist.

"no," he presses a kiss just below your jaw, slow and maddening. "you wanna act like a grown woman out there, takin' stupid risks? then you're gonna learn what it means to ask for what you need."

his fingers move again — soft, deliberate strokes that stop just when they get too good.

you try everything to make him get the hint. you whimper, shudder, pant.

he shushes you gently.

"tell me, baby, what do you need?"

your voice is thin, wrecked.

"need you, joel... please..."

he groans softly, lips ghosting over your ear.

"yeah? you need me to make you cum? after all that trouble you caused?"

you nod fast, pressing your face into his neck.

but he doesn't give in. not yet. instead, he circles your clit with agonizing care. over and over, just enough pressure to drive you over the edge — then pulls back every time your thighs start to shake and your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for release.

"not yet," he whispers, watching you fall apart. "you don't cum until i say so. you don't take anything from me — you earn it."

you're crying into his shirt by the fourth time he drags you back from the brink.

whimpering, begging, trembling in his grip. like the fool he's made of you just to teach you a lesson. he knows it never gets him anywhere. you just go back to your usual behaviour, never really learning your lesson. so why bother? maybe he enjoys this too. you want warmth and he's here to put the fire down and instead hold you in his arms and give you his jacket.

he tilts your chin up so you're looking at him. his pupils dilate at how dazed, dizzy and desperate you look right now.

"you need me, baby? then prove it. hold on a little longer. take it for me."

your body's gone soft in his arms, with the occasional uncontrollable twitches and turns from the pain of the overstimulation. joel's working you like a goddamn instrument, bringing you up and dragging you back down.

"look at you," he breathes, voice rough with control. "all that attitude gone now, huh? just a needy little thing in my lap."

his fingers are soaked because of you. pressing but never enough, never where you really need him. every time you start to climb again, he pulls back.

you sob, burying your face in his throat, fingers clawing at his shirt.

"please, joel, daddy — p-please, i c-can't..."

he stills completely. one big hand slides into your hair, fisting it to tilt your face up.

he kisses you then. for the first time tonight. slow, possessive, overwhelming. and you melt into it, whimpering against his mouth, letting him take the control he needs and have dominion over you. make love to your mouth and have his sweet velvety tongue dance with your own one full of venom and not have them kill each other but rather live in harmony. build up the butterflies in your belly and the fog in your brain.

his fingers push inside your hole just enough to make your breath catch. you clench around him desperately, afraid to let go.

"you want more?" he asks, low and dangerous. "want me to fuck that brat right outta you?"

"yes!" you whisper enthusiastically, absolutely wrecked. "please, daddy, need you!"

he groans like it physically hurts him to wait any longer and in one swift motion he shifts you, drags his jeans down along with his boxers and lines himself up. slides in deep, slow, heavy. stretching you so good you gasp.

"theeere you go," he rasps, burying himself to the hilt. "that what you needed, baby? hm?"

you can't even speak. just nod and grip his shoulders, whole body shaking from long he's made you wait.

joel stills inside you, chest pressed to yours. "you come when i say. you come without permission? we start all over. understand?"

you nod again. eyes wide, every muscle taut with need.

"good," he growls. and then he starts to move. deep and fucking delicious, every thrust dragging another few desperate moans from your throat as he finally gives your poor pussy what she's been craving. your nails are digging into his shoulders like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.

joel's voice is low and steady even as he drives you towards the edge again.

"that's it, sweetheart. you're takin' me so damn well. didn't think you had it in you to behave."

your body tenses again with that familiar heat flooding through you. you're so, so close.

his hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, rubbing soft circles. your hips buck on instinct and he catches your chin in the other hand, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"fuckin' look at me. wanna see your pretty face, babygirl."

"please, pleaaaase, joel, i—"

"i know. you've earned it, i know."

his pace picks up deeper and harder, fucking into you like a man with purpose, your pussy walls trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"cum for me, babygirl. let me feel it. let go."

your body breaks — hips jerking, legs trembling, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you fall apart around him with a strangled cry. the orgasm crashes over you, so overwhelming your vision goes white as your pussy pulses frantically around his cock, clenching tight and soaking him so much your squirt reaches his belly.

joel groans, the sound torn from his chest. "that's it. that's my girl."

he doesn't stop. he fucks you through it to chase his own release now. his thrusts get sloppy, desperate, and then he buries himself deep into your cervix and spills inside you as he holds you so tight it borders on possessive.

for a long moment, there's only the sound of breath and heartbeat thundering in your ears. and the addicting feel of skin on skin contact as your flushed sweaty bodies lay on top of each other.

then joel pulls you close and kisses your forehead with one hand stroking your hair as your body still twitches with aftershocks.

"you're alright," he whispers. "i got you. you're safe now."

you nod against him, boneless and wrecked. held. owned.

your limbs are limp, muscles shaky and brain foggy in that sweet flowty haze he's so good at pulling you into. joel carries you like it's nothing with one arm under your thighs and the other cradling your back, his nose brushing your temple.

"you really wore yourself out, huh?" he murmurs, voice softer now. "stubborn thing."

he takes you to the bathroom and eases you down onto the closer toiled seat while he runs the water in the tub. you watch him move, still dizzy, barely holding yourself upright. he glances over and smiles.

"you stay with me, baby," he says, kneeling in front of you to tug your ruined clothes off the rest of the way. "you did good. took it real well. just gotta get you cleaned up."

once the tub is ready, he lifts you in. he sits on the edge, rolls up his sleeves and grabs a washcloth.

his hands are on you slow and careful. he doesn't speak for a while and just runs the cloth over your skin, treating you like the precious little spoiled princess you are. rinses away the sweat, slick and mess he made of you.

every now and then, his fingers linger. on your hips, thighs, breasts. not to start anything new, just... grouding you. really feeling you. keep you safe under his touch.

but when he takes your swollen ankle in his hand, the tenderness shifts.

"look at this," he mutters. not angry, just tired, worried and a bit dissapointed. "already swollen again. damn near black and blue."

you mumble a weak apology, but joel shushes you gently.

"nuh-uh. don't you do that. you scared me today, runnin' off like that. coulda twisted it worse, or gotten jumped out there, and no one woulda known where the hell you are."

he props your foot on a folded towel, eyes on your ankle as he presses around it with expert hands.

"you think i like punishin' you like that? think i wanna hurt you? i'd rather you just listen when i tell you somethin's not safe."

"i didn't mean to worry you..."

"i know you didn't," he sighs, pulling a small ice pack from the cabinet nearby. "but i need you to trust me i ain't bossin' you around just for the hell of it. i protect what's mine. and that means you, sweetheart."

those words land heavy in your chest and make your heart throb a little. what might've been a reckless decision made out of hopelessness for you really took a hard hit on him. made him worry real bad and actually try to teach you more than just a lesson and act on a punishment. he was trying to make you understand just how hard it would be for him if you'd gotten seriously hurt or even worse.

"thank you, joel," you say gratefully as you hold his hand a little tighter with a soft smile on your lips and a dangerous tear hanging on by your lower lashline threatening to fall out.

joel wraps the ice pack gently around your ankle and anchors it with a bandage. then he leans in and brushes damp hair from your forehead.

he smiles too. more of a contained smirk, but he can feel how grateful and serious you are. "you're welcome, sweetheart. you're gonna rest. stay off that foot. i'll carry you if i have to."

"you like carrying me anyway."

"damn right i do."

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[sunnami]

the marauders as. . . whatever these love languages are (i).

a/n: i got addicted to writing drabbles. . .

“i’m touch-starved.”

there’s not a day where 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 isn’t holding onto you like a lifeline—a tether to this world when he feels like he’s about to float away. on mornings where he wakes up back in his childhood bedroom, portraits of jaundiced ancestors hurling insults at him as though he hasn’t already heard it all from his benevolent mother—he closes his eyes, and when he opens them, there you are. gone are the colorless walls of his early years, instead he’s drowning in the shades of you.

you’re wearing nothing but his shirt and the bursting hues of his devotion. he’s never been fluent in ‘i love you’ but for you, he wants to learn every language there is, so as long as you know that he is yours. yours to command, yours to throw away one day, yours to love—his soul and heart are utterly and irrevocably yours.

he pulls you closer to him because sirius black is a mad man, selfishly burrowing in your warmth like he’s been trudging through an eternal winter, desperate for light and the relief of your lips. sirius wraps his arms around your waist, as if to protect you from the sunlight—because you are his and not even the threat of tomorrow can take you away. he wants to stay close with you like this forever. until neither knows where they begin or end. he buries his nose in the crook of your neck—wondering if you’ll be cross if he pilfers a taste of your skin. the sound of your heartbeat is more beautiful than any orchestra symphony—he thinks your voice is what heaven’s choir is made of.

sirius splays his fingers on your bare stomach, his loose shirt riding up your waist. he aches, and oh, how he burns for you. he’s never been one for tears, but he finds that the reprieve of your touch can bring a wayward man to his knees. you are, in every essence, the answer to his prayers and the pardoning of his sins. he chases you like a drunkard drawn to firewhiskey—he’s afraid that you’ve gone and gotten him addicted to you.

to your fingers in his hair—tugging and pulling—then, to his tongue licking a trail against the column of your throat, your breath hot on his cheek, your nails digging in deep into his back, and the nights where love is spoken through fervent whimpers and whispers of adoration.

sirius knows it’ll be centuries until he becomes a man worthy of your love—but for now, he hopes you’ll let his arms protect you from harm, and his hands find solace in yours.

after all, you are the better parts of his soul.

a/n: i’m not sure if i hit the mark on touch-starved as a language BUT WE MOVE. remus next!

[narxcisse]

— Eternal Sugar smut HCs

CW: explicit sexual content, mdni, afab reader, aphrodisiacs, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, voyeurism, oral sex, possible emotional manipulation(?, the sugar clouds thing is based on the cloud that is in her theme decor in the game. (Let me know if I forgot anything)

English isn't my native language.

Eternal Sugar doesn’t rush—everything she does is slow, syrupy, and indulgent. She’ll have you sprawled across soft sugar clouds in the Garden of Delights, limbs tangled, while she toys with you without lifting much more than a finger. Her power lies in making you crave movement while she stays draped over you like a purring cat.

Her idea of intimacy includes heavy use of plush silks, sugary scents, and feather-light kisses. Her favorite pastime? Pinning you down with her thighs and slowly grinding against you while whispering honeyed affirmations—until you're practically vibrating under her touch, overstimulated by softness and affection.

Sex with her often feels like a ritual. She treats your body like a temple, lavishing every part of you with gentle affection—kisses to your inner thighs, featherlight touches, soft praises. But she expects the same in return. She’ll guide your hand or mouth to her folds and murmur, “You want to make me feel good too, don’t you?” with just enough sweetness to be commanding.

While she loves lying back and letting you worship her, she often turns the tables without warning. One moment, she’s moaning lazily under your tongue—then she pulls you up with a sugar-coated giggle and presses you down beneath her, pinning you with her thighs while still half-lounging like she’s doing you a favor. Her dominance is always velvet-gloved.

She adores your clit—treats it like a sacred sweet, murmuring soft praises while her fingers and tongue work in maddening circles. Whether it’s lazy flicks or slow, focused licks meant to tease you for hours, she knows just how to keep you hovering on the edge. She’s obsessed with the way your body reacts to even the most subtle touch.

She doesn’t just use her fingers and mouth—she uses her voice like a spell. “Don’t you feel better when you just lie back and let me take care of you?” she’ll murmur, convincing you with slow strokes and gentle moans that you want this serenity, this indulgence… until you forget what resistance felt like.

She’ll finger you for what feels like hours, but never in a rushed or greedy way. Her fingers are slender and maddeningly slow, often curling just enough to make your legs twitch—then she pulls back and smiles as if to say, “Isn’t anticipation sweeter than release?” She takes delight in making you melt while she does almost nothing.

To her, your climax is something to be earned—and if she thinks you’re too eager, she’ll stop right as you start to fall apart. Not cruelly—but with a sweet hum and a kiss to your inner thigh like she’s sorry (but not really). She believes bliss should come slowly, and if she makes you cum once, she’ll make you feel like you came three times.

She’s insatiably curious about how your arousal changes over time. She’ll dip her fingers into you just to taste them off her tongue, eyes fluttering shut like she’s sampling fine nectar. Expect her to murmur things like, “Mmm… still so sweet. But there’s a hint of want—tart and aching. You poor thing…”

She never raises her voice, never forces you—but her calm, syrupy authority makes it impossible to disobey. She’ll softly command, “Spread your legs for me, petal,” while trailing her fingers lazily down your stomach, and you’ll obey like it’s instinct. Her control is tranquil, not aggressive—but complete.

When Eternal Sugar is too lazy to even get up, she prefers to have you on her lap while teasing you relentlessly with lazy, looping touches, one hand between your legs while the other strokes your thigh or gently cups your breast—until your head’s foggy and all you can do is cling to her voice.

She gives you "treats" from the Garden of Delights that melt on your tongue and fill your body with warmth and arousal. They taste like honeyed berries or floral sugar—and you never notice the change until your skin is flushed, your breath shallow, and everything starts to feel so good. She'll smile serenely and say, “It’s just happiness taking root, darling.”

She loves how aphrodisiacs soften your edges. You get pliant, needy, and sensitive to every touch. She’ll trace her fingers between your thighs lazily, whispering “Look at you… so easily undone…” while refusing to let you come until you beg her sweetly enough.

Eternal Sugar is a voyeur at heart. She’ll tell you to pleasure yourself while she lounges across from you, her chin in her hand, eyes half-lidded. She’ll coo encouragement or gently critique, drawing it out until you’re begging her to help. “You missed a spot… Here, let me show you how to treat yourself properly.”

She’ll go down on you with a sort of indulgent reverence, like she’s sipping from a divine chalice. Her tongue is slow, precise, and focused squarely on the clit. She hums softly while she tastes you, using just her mouth until you’re trembling. She prefers when you’re squirming under her, unable to form words.

Aftercare is quiet, warm, and druglike. She’ll drape herself over you or pull you into her wings, humming lightly while stroking your back or thighs. Sometimes she plays with your overstimulated body even then—just soft, teasing grazes of her fingers while whispering, “One more won’t hurt, dear…” knowing full well it’ll make you whimper.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Curse Your Name

𖤐❝Prologue❞𖤐

❥Vampire Ateez x fem reader

❝What is destined cannot be avoided.❞

Masterlist + Visualizers

➯a/n: WAAAAAH VAMPIRE ATEEZ I FINALLY DID IIIT HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTIES

✫彡wordcount: 2.1k

(✯◡✯)genre: yandere, fantasy, smut, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: see general warnings in the masterlist: visions of violence and blood, hunting fishies, fictional religion, fictional culture and dialect, soulmate au, supernatural elements, not beta read

✫taglist✫(i can't think of something clever help lmao) @soobieboobiebaby

✩index: Caethnor dialect: ka - spoken before or after a sentence to make it more serious or stern. ba - spoken before or after a sentence to make it softer. mi - added after someone's name to show affection. ula - mom.

there will only be a few instances where i use an entirely made up language but when i do the translation will be written next to it {like this}

❝Drink from me and live... forever.❞

MDNI.

𖤐❝This is not a prediction. It is a certainty. ❞𖤐

    "Another daughter to welcome into the village, I hear." The elderly witch stumbles into the small home with her canes support, a smile on her wrinkled face.

    The new mother is resting upon the bed, her child held closely to her chest. Her husband sits only a few feet away, watching his wife with a fond look. 

    "She's a healthy little thing." He says as he stands, placing a hand over hers gently, "Tihilda, will you see our daughter's soulmate?"

    It was only asked as a formality, because of course she would. She had been speaking with The Goddess since she was a child, and had been the villages oracle for over sixty years now. She read everyone's soul mark when they were born. She had read his palm when he was a baby. And read his wife's a few months later.

    Now, many years later, she will read their child's.

     "Let me see the babe," she hums as she sits on the edge of the bed.

    The young woman sits up with a groan, carefully handing over her newborn. Her spouse comes to sit next to her and takes her hands gently as they watch the seer unbundle the baby from the quilt. "She's precious," he whispers to her, looking at her with stars in his eyes.

    The elder settles the precious thing in her lap, smiling as two innocent eyes look up at her. "You two have a beautiful daughter," she nods, gingerly taking the wiggling left arm, "let's see what love awaits her, shall we?"

    She turns the palm face up, looking at it intently. As she reads the lines — she falls into a trance.

Upon the day which blue becomes red and the sun becomes void, the darkness comes for its bride.

"I have waited an eternity."

Eyes turning crimson. Fangs. Blood. So much blood.

"You are promised to us!"

Blue becomes red. 

"Do you remember when I said that I know little of love?"

Screams. Terrible, horrible screams.

"Hold your breath, bite your tongue, close your eyes — do what you must while I do the same."

The sun becomes void.

"You are mine, and I take care of what belongs to me."

Tears from pure eyes. Hands upon hands on virginal flesh. The tainting of innocence.

"My soul craves you in a way that aches. It aches in my bones."

Corruption of the soul.

"We are only haunted by things which that we refuse to accept."

The darkness comes for its bride.

"Drink from me, and live... forever."

    She takes in a sharp breath, trembling as she quickly drops the child's hand.

    "Tihilda!" The woman gasps, "are you-"

"Your child is... cursed. She is to be the soulmate of demons. Of... vampires."

     It's quiet save for the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the roof. The couple stares.

     She knows that the witches predictions are always right, but she refuses; "ka don't jest in such a way." She sniffs as she gathers her child. She holds her to her chest, a frown on her lips as she looks down at the chubby cheeks of her precious first born.

    "This is no jest... This is not a prediction. It is a certainty."

      The man stands up abruptly, gesturing to the door, "I think it's best that you leave."

    "Indeed. I will give you some time, come to me when you are ready."

    He just shakes his head, scratching at his beard.

    She stops with her hand on the door knob. "What is the child's name?"

     The woman wipes her eyes, not looking away from the child. "We have named her (Y/n)."

    "I will pray for her soul."

𖤐❝I bid you, come to me.❞𖤐

     You are six years old the first time you hear it, at least — that's the first time you can remember.

    You're along the rivers edge, learning from your mother how to fish. Your feet freezing cold as you stand deadly still in the ankle deep water, your fingers riddled with splinters that still need tending to after crafting your own wooden spear.

    "Don't move a muscle, (Y/n) mi," she whispers just above the wind whooshing past. "They can feel every little move in the water, they can hear us as well."

    "Is that why you're whispering?" You smile; you're still sporting your baby teeth. You're a slow bloomer. It makes your mother's heart melt.

    "Yes, exactly," your mother smiles back. "Now focus ba. I will go first. Watch closely."

   You watch her every move as she shuffles slowly just a bit deeper into the water, the fish are slightly startled; but they stick around her legs and swim carelessly.

    "T'chu!" You squeak as she moves her spear at the speed of light, piercing both the water and a large fish. {Awesome!}

    "Easy, right?"

    "No way, Ula! I can't move that fast," you pout as she takes the fish and slides it off the spear and into your wicker basket.

    "Not yet, you can't. You will get there!"

    Repositioned and waiting for the fish to settle down once more, you hear a voice in the whipping wind. Over the rushing water around your feet.

    "...feel her... I can feel... hear... me?"

   You look up, brows pushed together as you glance around the river. The words are broken up, incomplete. In a language you don't fully understand at first. It's the realm's language, not your villages. You search for the source.

  It's only you and your mother.

   "Can... hear me?"

  "Yeah..." You nod to the disembodied voice.

   Your mother looks up, curiously. "Hey, focus."

   "Didn't you hear him, Ula?"

    Her face drops, and she knocks the side of her spear against your arm lightly, "focus. Pay no mind to wind spirits ka. Catch yourself a fish." She tightens her grip on the weapon as she looks around.

    You sigh, looking back down at the quickly swimming fish.

    A soft ghost of a hand touches your braid and lifts it up.

    "Ah!" You whip around so quickly that you lose your balance, falling into the shallow bank and soaking your dress in ice cold water. But no one is there.

   Your mother has her spear raised defensively, slicing the air with it as she moves it around.

    You swear you see the ripples in the water coming ever closer to you. Like an invisible force is wading through it.

    "I bid you, come to me."

    "Ula!" You yell, terrified as the voice echoes more clearly in your head.

    "Come to us."

    "Ba swai ulaa fla," she comforts you in your native language as she drops her spear in water and pulls you up; holding your soaked form close as she runs away from the river. {Ba it's just mommy.}

    You certainly get some strange looks as she bolts through the village near dusk with your crying and sodden figure. But she pays them zero mind.

    "Tihilda!" 

   The elderly oracle turns around from her place on one of the pews as your mother bursts into the church at the edge of town.

    She stands up slowly. "The bond is growing strong as she grows. I told you this would happen ba."

    "Please, please, Tihilda," your mother begs as she kneels with you in her arms, "I'm not ready to lose my little girl to... to..."

    "Bring the girl here," she waves with a slight trembling hand, shuffling up the aisle and all the way to the statue at the end of the room, "lay her down."

    She does so, cradling your heated face as she lays you on your back, soaking the rug. "What are you going to do?"

   "Not me. We. We will pray."

  "Pray?" Your mother nearly scoffs, "what good will prayer do if The Goddess is the one who gave her such a horrible destiny?"

    You don't understand much of what's going on. All you know is that you're cold, and you're scared.

     Tihilda slaps her upside the head. "Ka watch your tongue. Kneel with me, and we shall pray for your girls soul to be free of this evil."

You stare up at the stone statue as their voices fill your ears, drowning out the haunting whispers in your head.

𖤐❝My dreams are just dreams!❞𖤐

    When you were thirteen, you had come to terms with the fact that you had no soul mate.

    When you were seven, your parents broke the news to you. You were promised to nobody but The Goddess Grentizia, and you would become a nun after your first bleeding.

    Your friends in the village were off to find theirs in neighboring communities or spending more time with them, leaving you behind.

Perhaps you were lucky that you were a late bloomer. It meant you had more time to do... whatever it is you're doing.

Drawing patterns in the dirt with a stick as life bustles around you.

"(Y/n) mi," Tihilda calls for you softly, "have you gotten lost in your mind again?"

"No ba," you hum, sitting up from where you were laid on your stomach. "I was just... recalling a dream that I had."

"A dream?" She hums back, leaning forward in her seat on the stone bench.

"Ka," your father groans from beside her, closing his holy book. He had become a preacher a few years after your birth. "How many times have we been over this, uh?"

"What's the matter," Tihilda's wrinkled forehead becomes more so, "a child can't dream?"

"My dreams are special."

"(Y/n)!" Your father stands abruptly, making you shrink, "your dreams are just dreams."

"Lir-" {Ok-}

"Say it."

Tihilda sighs deeply, tapping the man's arm, "give the girl a break."

"My dreams are just dreams..."

"Again."

"My dreams are just dreams."

"Again."

"My dreams are just dreams!" You yell with a sudden defiance deep in your voice, staring up at him boldly, and he goes to step towards you when —

"Make way for the Kings Lieutenant!"

In your own world, you and your father had failed to notice the man's arrival. Failed to notice that he was almost in the town center.

"Come," your father ushers you forward, and all of your previous arguments are lost upon you as you run into his arms.

He hurries to take his preachers robes off and drapes them around you, uncaring as the white fabric drags in the mud.

The atmosphere in Caethnor has never been so thick. Your little village is so far out of the way, none of the royal council bothers to visit.

    And for that you were grateful. There was "rumors" about the actions of your undead rulers. And the fact that the royal Lieutenant was here could only mean bad things, especially unannounced.

    He stops in the center of the square. From behind your father, you can see him.

    He seems to be taking deep inhalations through his nose, his lip curling up.

   His head snaps to you. Lieutenant Kim Hongjoong meets your eyes — only for the briefest second before you're hiding behind your father.

    "Hello~" He sing-songs, in front of you both in the literal blink of an eye.

    Your father jumps, startled, and holds your shoulder comfortingly even though his hand is quaking.

   "Hey," he says more sternly when he doesn't get a response, "it's rude to ignore people, child."

   You look up to Tihilda, your eyes wide and uncertain. But she has no answers for you. You have to decide on your own.

   "H-hello ba..." You whisper, cowering behind your father. 

    He takes another deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together. "Hello ba?" He hums, crouching down to your height and meeting your eyes again as you peek.

    "Forgive her, My Lord," your father butts in quickly, "she has never left the village, she only knows our dialect." 

    "How cute... How old are you, child?"

    "I'm-"

     "She's ten! She's only ten! Eleven in Plusu!" He laughs nervously, pulling you further behind his back when the undead man reaches out. You keep your mouth shut. You aren't ten. And you weren't born in Plusu. But he has to be lying for a reason.

     "Ten, huh?" He tuts his tongue, taking one more sniff before standing and rolling his eyes.

     The girl he's looking for is thirteen by now...

    "You shouldn't eat so many golden deadnuts," Hongjoong takes one last glance at you over his shoulder as he walks away, "it makes your blood smell sweet."

His sharp fangs peek from his lips as he smirks. He's as terrifying as the legends.

...But why do you want to go after him? Why was he in your dream?

"Not here. Let's search again on the way back."

𖤐❝PROLOGUE❞𖤐

𖤐❝NEXT TIME❞𖤐

Hongjoong blinks a few times as he surveys the horrified looks of the townspeople. A smirk spreads across his bloody lips — "boo."

The simple word spooks a great deal of them, the broken silence is enough to make them jump. The scarlet liquid in the corner of his mouth makes the children hide.

He and Wooyoung laugh at their reactions, the latter playing idly with your numb fingers.

Yunho places his hand on your cheek slowly, looking down at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You're breathing heavily, eyes dazed as you force yourself to keep your eyelids open. The sweat on your skin doesn't stop the way he strokes your face adoringly. "Where have you been hiding, huh?" He chuckles quietly, the question clearly rhetorical.

Hongjoong is tired of all of these eyes on you. "Everyone out." He turns to you, then back quickly, "leave the preacher. Boys, you can feast."

Villagers start scrambling quickly, yells and cries of panic as the handful of lower ranking Vampires chase them out of the church.

It takes a good few moments for the chaos to clear, and he joins Yunho and Wooyoung in inspecting you slowly while everyone clears out. "How did I miss you, little one?" He hums, rubbing your waist leisurely, "you've grown a great deal. I forget that humans do that."

𖤐❝CURSE YOUR NAME❞𖤐

[deezee112]

Hey deezee, I hope I’m not bothering you with a request for our fae boys x Yuu/Reader.

Slight Spoiler for the movie Maleficent

In the movie a human throws away his iron ring (his most valuable possession) without a second thought, because it was hurting Maleficent. Could you write a scenario where the reader does the same for our fae boys, please?

A/N : Of course! But I might not be able to write it exactly the way you want since I’m kind of out of ideas right now 😔 But if you end up liking it, that would make me really happy.

Sorry it turned out bad...I just...haven’t felt inspired lately.

The first time I wrote about a character whose name I kept forgetting.

Title : The Ring You Cast Away

Pairing : Yandere!Malleus Draconia x Reader

Word Count : 3200

Warning : OCC??? , I can't think because I'm sick.

Summary : You fled into the forest, wearing iron to keep Malleus away even if it hurt. But when you realize the pain cuts deeper for him than it does for you, you make a choice. One that binds you to him forever.

English is not my first language.

The forest was thick with thorns and silence. You hadn’t meant to walk this far, but something about Briar Valley’s woods always drew you in like the trees whispered secrets only you could hear.

The sun had fallen behind the hills long ago, casting the world into shadows thick as oil, and the wind bit at your skin through your coat.

You stopped walking.

The stillness wasn’t just silence anymore.

It was presence.

He was near.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t need to.

Malleus did not sneak. He did not stumble. He appeared like mist through cracks in the world, slow and graceful and eternal.

You spoke first.

“ You followed me again. ”

A pause.

“ You knew I would. ”

His voice was velvet and winter, soft and cold in the same breath. Familiar now. Too familiar.

You turned. He stood just a few paces behind you, tall and regal even in the half-light, like the forest was his court and every thorn bent for him. His eyes glowed faintly, green fire flickering beneath the darkness. The sight of him used to startle you.

Now, it just made your chest ache.

“ I told you I needed space. ” you said.

“ You did. ”

“ And yet... you’re here. ”

Malleus tilted his head, as if the concept itself was strange. “ I am always here. ”

You tried to ignore the way your pulse spiked.

“ Because you’re watching me? ”

“ Because you are precious. ”

You flinched.

There it was again. That possessiveness wrapped in silk. That terrifying gentleness. Malleus didn’t yell or demand or trap you with chains. He trapped you with devotion. The kind that suffocates slowly.

“ I wore this to keep you away. ” You said as you grabbed your ring.

Iron.

It was a simple thing. A ring, old and blackened and heavy with heat. Humans told stories of how it repelled fae kept their charms and dangers at bay.

You weren’t sure if you believed in old tales.

But you believed in Malleus.

He stiffened.

“ You still wear that…thing. ”

“ I didn’t want you to follow me. I didn’t want you to come. ”

A long silence. The kind that drags your breath out of your lungs.

When he spoke again, it was lower.

“ You would rather hurt yourself than be near me? ”

You look down the ring has slipped into your skin as you walk. The burn marks are just starting to spread, red and searing beneath your collarbone.

“ I didn’t know it would do that. ” you muttered.

“ I did. ”

Malleus stepped forward once. Then stopped. You saw it the way his fingers twitched toward you, then curled into a fist instead.

“ I felt it burning. ” he murmured. “ From the moment you left the castle. It is agony. ”

You looked up, startled. “ You…you felt it? ”

“ I feel everything when it comes to you. ”

Your throat dried.

That should’ve terrified you.

But instead…it just made you want to cry.

“ I don’t hate you, Malleus. ”

That earned a flicker in his expression. The slightest shift in those ancient eyes.

“ But I don’t want to be your prisoner either. ”

“ You are not. ” he said, too quickly. Too gently. “ You are mine, yes. But not a prisoner. Never that. ”

“ And yet I’m afraid to breathe the wrong way. ”

He stepped closer again. This time, he didn’t stop.

You stood still, barely breathing as he approached one slow, reverent step at a time. When he reached you, he didn’t touch. Just stood close enough that the heat of him tangled with the cold of the air.

“ You are wearing something that causes you pain. ” he said softly. “ Because you thought it would drive me away. ”

You looked away.

“ I wanted it to. ”

Malleus didn’t speak. Not right away.

Then, in a voice that trembled like candlelight.

“ Then why are you crying? ”

Your fingers touched your cheek. Wet.

You hadn’t noticed.

You shook your head, voice cracking. “ I didn’t want to be afraid of you. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted a walk. I just wanted...to breathe. To live. ”

“ You think life exists without me? ”

That should’ve sounded cruel. But it didn’t.

It sounded broken.

“ You could’ve taken it off days ago. ” he whispered. “ You could’ve burned it. Yet you didn’t. ”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

Because you’d felt the weight of it every day.

The sting on your skin. The barrier between you. The wall you didn’t even understand. And now, standing here in the dark, you realized something horrible.

You didn’t want that wall anymore.

Even if it meant falling.

Even if it meant drowning in him.

You reach for your finger the chain is so hot it’s almost blistering. It digs into your skin as you struggle with the lock, but you don’t stop. You take pleasure in the pain.

And then, with a snap it fell away.

The ring hit the ground with a dull, lifeless sound.

And the world changed.

Malleus exhaled like he hadn’t breathed in a hundred years.

His hand shot forward.

Not to grab you.

To catch the ring.

You stared as he held it in his palm burning, still glowing faintly with his magic. His expression unreadable.

And then he let it fall through his fingers like dust.

The chain turned to ash before it even hit the dirt.

“ You threw away your protection. ” he whispered.

You couldn’t look at him. “ It was hurting you. ”

Something shifted in the air. Like the forest bowed in reverence.

And then

His hands were on your face.

Gently.

Trembling.

Like you were made of glass and every part of him wanted to shatter you but only so he could piece you back together and keep you forever.

“ Do you know what you’ve done? ” he murmured.

You nodded. Barely.

His breath touched your skin. “ You cannot take that back. ”

“ I don’t want to. ”

His eyes closed. As if he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear that.

And when he opened them again, they burned with something ancient. Something dangerous.

His lips hovered over your forehead. Close enough to feel.

“ I will never let you go now. ”

You didn’t answer.

Because maybe, deep down…

…you didn’t want him to.