#leather pants... god bless.

[summersloving]

cable #96

[manhandlememando]

i’ll beg whatever gods i need to. | cregan stark

cregan stark x f!wife!reader

format: one-shot

tw: MDNI warning (oh boy here we go) in depth descriptions of gore and bodily injury, blood, ANGST, cregan crying and in pain, mentions of religion and praying, hurt/comfort, more angst, angry cregan, insecure!cregan, unprotected piv, oral (both receiving), face riding, cowgirl, breeding kink (duh he’s a stark), uncut cregan. (written in 3rd person POV) (she/ her pronouns)

word count: 5,539

excerpt: Whatever angelic being had blessed this world with his form, she begged of it to leave him with her. However broken or scarred, she didn’t care, she just needed him. With tears streaking her face she looked up to the heavens in anguish, begging anyone who could hear her to please, let him come back to me.

- or -

cregan gets mauled by a direwolf.

song inspirations: youth by Daughter, human by Daughter, i gave you all by Mumford & Sons, heavy in your arms by Florence and The Machine, i found by Amber Run, roslyn by Bon Iver and St. Vincent, work song by Hozier, family tree by Ethel Cain, in the woods somewhere by Hozier, glory by Dermot Kennedy

The hour of the owl came passing over Castle Black, and still Cregan had not returned from his patrol of the Wall. Her worry had grown tenfold, the knot in her stomach was now a heavy stone. She knew something was amiss. Moving from their shared chambers to the corridors of the small castle, she decided a short walk may alleviate some of her anxiety, allowing her to clear her head.

However after only several minutes of beginning to wander, she heard commotion coming from the direction of the courtyard. Yelling and shrieking, men could be heard barking orders at each other, calls for the maester were loud, but the one thing that rose above it all was the most blood curdling roar she’d ever heard. Not wasting any time, she ran through the narrow hallways towards the source of the noise, only to come to a dead stop, the beating of her heart doing the same.

There he lay on a gurney in the middle of the courtyard, thrashing against the hands trying to hold him still. Crying out in agony as the maester tried his best to assess the situation at hand.

“Oh gods…” she gasped when the source of his pain became clear to her. His armor was covered in deep crimson streaks of blood, the leather ripped to shreds revealing the metal beneath. His face, contorted in pain, bore two long gashes from above his right eyebrow and trailing down his temple into his hairline. It seemed as if a deep crimson curtain had been pulled over half of his face as the blood seeped from the deep, jagged cuts. However the worst of his injuries were to his left shoulder, which seemed to be attached only by the grace of the gods. It was so gruesome she began to feel ill. The bone of his upper bicep was exposed, the flesh hanging from it. Blood seeping profusely from the wounds, teeth marks littered his forearm and hands. The fabric of his pants torn and she could see more crescent shaped puncture wounds littered across his legs, and his right ankle was bent at a sickening angle. They were large, belonging to something much bigger than anything she had seen in the North. A direwolf.

A young knight was holding the Stark ancestral sword, Ice, which was now covered tip to hilt in blood. Another man standing next to the knight who bore her husbands sword, stepped towards her.

“My Lady you mustn’t be here, you should not witness this,” he said, trying to block her view of her husband.

“No! No, I must be with him,” she rushed forward, only to be stopped by the strong arms of the guard holding her back.

“Please! He’s my husband, I have to -,” she began to plead with the man keeping her in her place before Cregan’s loud yell stopped her sentence short. The maester and his assistant were beginning to pack his wounds with whatever clean cloth the other men could find, Cregan seemed as if he was trying to pull away. Arching at the contact to his arm and shoulder, neck straining and face red as another scream erupting from deep within him. Tears were streaming down his face as it crumpled into an expression she never thought she’d see from him; fear.

It took two full grown men to hold him still, even in his weakened state, as they began to move him from the damp ground. Although, consequently the motion caused his body to shift and in turn sent him into another fit of agony.

At the sounds of his screams getting even more broken and strangled, her knees fell weak, slumping into the man’s hold as the air left her lungs.

He could die, the thought crossed her mind when she caught a glimpse of the expanse of blood leftover on the muddy ground.

————————————————————————

They had placed him in their bedchamber and the maester had since given Cregan milk of the poppy to calm him. He had been cleaned up and mended as best as the maester and his assistant could manage. They had also taken measures to prevent infection, although they informed her that it wasn’t fail safe and to be prepared for any outcome.

“He will have an incredibly long recovery period… if he survives,” the maester said to her as he wiped his hands of her husbands blood, his voice lowering as he spoke of his Lord’s possible death. She only nodded, eyes wide, feeling as if she was submerged in water. All the words being said to her were muffled and distorted. Some of the men from the Watch had tried to pull her from the bedchambers when they had first begun to work on him, whispering false reassurances and pleading with her to not witness this.

She couldn’t look away from his limp form laying on their shared bed, smothered in white bandages that were slowly blossoming red. However, his torso was somewhat unmarked by the direwolf’s teeth and claws (save for several deep purple bruises beginning to show their full form) due to the steel armored chest piece he had adorned upon her request, just before leaving for his patrol.

This might be his deathbed, she thought to herself. Tears beginning to pool on her lashes.

“I shall leave you. I will return in several hours to replenish the milk of the poppy… if he wakes again,” the maester looked down at the floor in despair. Exiting the room, the maester bid his condolences.

Nearing the bed, she knelt down and lightly took his hand in hers, brushing her lips over his bandaged knuckles and letting out a shaky breath.

“Please, my love you must wake up. Heal well and return to me, do not leave me in this world without you,” she pleaded with the unmoving form in front of her. The tears beginning to fall as she placed her head upon the bed next to their interlocked hands.

She did not pray, she never had found an interest in paying much attention to the new gods or the old. But in this moment she found herself reaching out for guidance as she called upon the gods to help him. Whatever angelic being had blessed this world with his form, she begged of it to leave him with her. However broken or scarred, she didn’t care, she just needed him. With tears streaking her face she looked up to the heavens in anguish, begging any god that could hear her to please, let him come back to me.

————————————————————————

The night dragged on, as if time had been weighed down by the gravity of the situation, and on its continued trek forward it somehow had slowed.

The maester had come and gone twice before, but Cregan had not woken yet. She refused to move from his side the entire time, having wept for hours she now felt empty and void of anything at all.

“My Lady you must eat,” a guard had come in, trying his best to persuade his Lady of the North to eat something or else she would fall ill.

“I am not hungry,” she flatly responded to the young man, whose face fell as he nodded and exited the room.

It was several more hours before Cregan awoke, he was still deep within the fog of the poppy’s milk but he was whispering something. His mouth barely moving, the sound coming out more like a silent prayer than a word.

He spoke her name, breathed it more like. But still, through all the hell he had been through in the last several hours, his mind only fell upon her.

“My love,” she said softly, lifting his hand to her lips once more. “My love, can you hear me?” She asked, but was met with nothing. Cregan drifting back into sleep, leaving her in the silence once again.

He woke like this periodically over the next several days, the maesters visiting every couple of hours to assess his wounds and change his bandages. Still all the while providing him with an ample amount of milk of the poppy to ward off his pain. They were somehow successful in warding off any major infections to the wounds, which was nothing short of a miracle. They had spent hours on different herbal remedies to help the Lord of the North heal without a fever.

As the days passed, she still refused to leave his side. Six days had passed by the time Cregan finally gained enough consciousness to express his pain level.

She had been napping in a chair next to the bed where he lay. Waking suddenly to the sound of a loud, pained groan.

“Cregan!” She gasped, his eyes opened just slightly, and she saw they were bloodshot but open nonetheless. He hissed in pain as she touched his hand.

“What’s happened?” He asks weakly, looking down at the bandages still covering most of his body.

“There was an incident beyond the Wall when you went to patrol the perimeter several days ago. They say you and the men were attacked by a direwolf.” She explains softly. His face drops, his eyes going wide at the memory. With some effort he tried to look down at his left shoulder, and when met with the sight of layers and layers of white bandages, he grimaced.

“I remember,” he whispers. His eyes closing as he inhales deeply, wincing again at the movement. When he opens his eyes again she can see the tears gathered within them.

“I - I cannot feel my hand,” he said, his voice breaking as he looked down at his left hand once again, his dominant hand.

“I will fetch the maester, it must just be a symptom of the damage caused. They will mend it though, as they have everything else,” she reassured him and stood to leave and get the maester, but they both know her reassurance was empty of any fact.

Worry gripped at her stomach again as the maesters words rang within her ears; “he will have an incredibly long recovery period”.

But what if there was no recovering fully from this? What if he would never be able to wield a sword again? Or walk properly? The thoughts swam in her mind, each drowning out the other.

She returned shortly with the maester, who breathed a sign of relief at the sight of Cregan fully awake.

He tried to offer Cregan more milk of the poppy before he began assessing the healing progression of his injuries, but Cregan refused.

“My Lord, I do not wish to see you in pain. But I must remove the bandages -,” the older man tried to explain, but Cregan cut him off curtly.

“Then do it,” he said, his face stern.

“Cregan, please listen to the maester, this is going to be more painful than you think,” she tried to reason with him, but his jaw was set and so was his mind.

“As you wish, my Lord,” the old healer nodded solemnly, moving to remove the first bandage. Upon contact with his arm Cregan did not grimace or contort in pain, his brows furrowed as if confused.

“I cannot feel it,” he said, his voice sounding far away, as if was in shock at the realization finally setting in.

“What, my love?” She inquired, looking at his arm as the maester began to unwrap more of the white fabric. The stitches were surrounded by bruised skin, what couldn’t be stitched back together was healing under a protective salve the maester had prepared. It will scar badly, but it didn’t matter, they were able to save his arm when she was more than certain he would lose it. As the maester lifted his arm Cregan had no reaction, just staring blankly into space. She was sure he must be in pain but he wasn’t reacting to what the maester was doing whatsoever.

“My darling, are you alright?” She asked him quietly, placing a hand under his chin to turn him to face her.

“I cannot feel anything,” he said, still his voice was hollow.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, not fully understanding what he meant by that.

“In my arm, it does not hurt because I cannot feel it,” he explained finally meeting her eyes. That was where she saw the flicker of fear again come across his face, worry painting his features.

“This is my dominant hand, I must be able to use it whenever necessary. It is the hand with which I wield Ice. But now I am not even able to move it. I am no longer a sufficient warrior… or man,” he said, his voice shaking as tears came to his eyes. The maester gave Cregan a pitiful look that just upset the Lord more.

“No, no that is not true my love,” she rushed to comfort him, cradling his face, making sure to avoid the stitches on his brow and temple.

“Do not do this to yourself, my darling. Do you understand what you have survived? You were attacked by a direwolf, Cregan… and you survived. That is next to impossible, but here you are,” she said, her voice soft and dripping in empathy. Brushing a tear from just under his eye as it began to fall. He shifted his gaze away from her, his eyes hardening again.

“But what good is survival if I am no longer able to live how I am meant to?” He said, still not meeting her eyes.

“It will take some adjustment, but we will get through this. You will get through this,” she assured him.

“Cregan… look at me,” she says quietly, trying to get him to connect with her again and not sink deeper into his darkening thoughts.

“Look at me, now,” she commanded in a more firm tone, which caused him to finally look at her once more, a sheepish expression in his eyes.

“Stop this at once,” she said, still holding her firm tone. He nodded and sighed, knowing he would not win this one. But as he cast his eyes downwards and frowned slightly, she knew he couldn’t be swayed in this moment from the doubt that was consuming him.

This will be a long recovery indeed, she thought to herself.

————————————————————————

About thirteen moons after Cregan had been nearly killed by the direworf, the head of which now hung in the council room, he had recovered quite well by what the maesters had told her.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell had since moved back from their residence at Castle Black when Cregan was finally well enough to travel. Although his body was healing well with time, his mind only sunk deeper into the belief he was now not worthy of his station as Warden of The North and the Lord of Winterfell. He had become easily irritated and many days she wished to not spend time with him, however she understood this too shall pass. She had sworn to him in her marriage vows to be by his side through sickness and in health, and she had no intention of breaking those vows in her lifetime.

As the Winter continued on, and as Cregan's strength grew back and the feeling began to make its way back into his limb, he was insistent on beginning his sword work training. She understood his urgency, finally having hope after such a long time of uncertainty was an addicting sort of feeling. It was hard for Cregan to accept that he would have to relearn how to use a sword with this new complication, and not train as he once did, as if nothing had happened.

Once the maester overseeing the Lord's care had cleared him to begin his lessons, she asked him if she would be able to accompany him. He agreed instantaneously, he was going to ask her anyways, feeling much better in her presence than anyone elses.

She busied herself with a book, perching upon several barrels of wine that sat on the edge of the courtyard, waiting to be taken to the cellars. Cregan had begun his lessons, and within minutes was already frustrated at the difficulty he had with even just handling the sword, let alone swinging it. She watched from the distance with a frown painting her face as he continued to struggle and bark at the knight he was sparring when he would try to offer his help. After much protest, Cregan finally gave into the offers to get him a wooden sword to wield instead. It was easier for him to handle, however his skill had rusted over with time and lack of use. His frustration became paramount when the young man bested him again, Cregan threw down his sword and stepped forward, grabbing his opponent by the collar.

"Do you wish to humiliate your Liege Lord?! Get out of my sight at once!" he roared in the mans face, causing him to stumble back and retreat from Cregan as quickly as possible.

She sat watching the scene as her own anger began to surface, standing and coming towards Cregan once he'd let the other man go, still breathing heavily and fuming.

"Come with me, now," she growled as she wrapped a firm hand around his good wrist, pulling him along behind her like a toddler being scolded and hauled off for punishment. She thought it best to bring him to their bedchambers as the conversation they needed to have was private.

Once they had entered their shared chambers Cregan immediately started in on his defense, to which she put up a silent palm in his direction, causing his sentence to halt before it finished.

"I can not do this anymore," she said softly, trying to keep her voice level, but to no avail. Placing a hand over her mouth as she began to silently weep, still refusing to look at him.

He softened immediately at the sight of her tears, hating desperately to make her upset. He took a step forward and brought his hand to her cheek, getting her to turn to him. She did not lift her gaze from the floor, sniffling lightly and trying to keep her tears from cascading and overflowing.

"You cannot do what anymore, love?" Cregan asked gently, moving his right hand to place at the back of her neck, and the other moving under her chin. His fingers intertwined into her hair at the back of her head as he tipped her head back slightly using the finger beneath her chin to raise her face to his. Taking another step closer to her he engulfed her in his size, pressed against her body, in complete control. Cradling her head completely in his hands, he moves the hand below her chin to place on her cheek once more.

"What was it, hmm?" he hummed to her, bringing his lips to brush against hers. She had become putty to mold as he wished, letting out a small sigh as he continued to tease the possibility of a kiss.

But in that moment she remembered her anger and could not let the lust for her husband overpower something that was becoming a serious issue between him and the rest of the world. She pushes away suddenly, putting space between them again. Cregan lets out an exasperated sigh as his hands fall to his sides.

"I can not possibly understand the stress you are under, and the constant unease you must feel within yourself. But I can understand how that affects me, and how that has affected our staff and those on your court. You were not slain, Cregan! You still have so much to live for, even if it means you cannot see battle again. That is what your army is for. Your value lies more in your character and not your physical form. Allowing that of which keeps you on solid ground to be the demise of what lies within your head, when you are so intelligent, and kind, and humorous. That is a sin, and the more treacherous of fates to befall a Warden of the North, even more so than a direwolf." She said, silence filled the room as Cregan realized he had no rebuttal. She was right after all, he could have been killed, and the fact he is allowing his mind to destroy what a direwolf couldn't, well it just seemed downright mad.

"I am so sorry, I never saw it that way," he responded softly, his heart feeling some what heavy in his chest as he felt the onslaught of emotion begin to creep up his throat. He had repressed so much in wanting to keep a certain image, and with his own wife being able to see through his facade so clearly, he realized how much pain he was really holding in. With that thought the dam broke as he let out a choked sob, leaning on the back of a chair closest to him he began to fall weak to his emotions.

At the sound of his whimper she turned around again, seeing him holding the bridge of his nose as he wept uncontrollably. Barely keeping himself upright with the back of the chair next to him.

"Oh, my darling," she went to him, quickly gathering him into her arms and bringing him down to kneel on the ground as she sat in the chair he was using for support. With his head tucked to her breast and his arms tightly wound around her body, hands finding purchase in her hair, he finally began to rack with sobs. She just let him collapse into her, stroking the hair from his face, tracing the scar on his temple and kissing his hairline. All the while cooing sweet reassurances into his ear.

"I have you my love, I have you," she whispered into his hair as he began to regain his breath. Not letting her go in the slightest, but relaxing nonetheless, Cregan began to breathe normally again, silent tears still coming from his eyes every now and then.

But he knew he was safe, and above all, he knew he was loved unconditionally.

————————————————————————

“Cregan, we cannot you aren’t healed properly yet,” she breathed out in a sigh as his lips traced the column of her throat.

“Your shoulder… and your ankle, it is too risky,” she tried to protest but the affect he had over her was undeniable.

“I am fine, my love. I am in need of my wife. It has been many moons and I cannot refrain any longer, injuries be damned,” he said, scoffing at the last part of his statement. Her skin was set alight with his touch as she leaned into him more. Laying in their bed, beneath a mountain of furs, he began to move atop of her, but she stopped him.

“If we are to do this, you will not lift a finger, is that clear?” She said firmly, and Cregan’s eyebrows rose in surprise at his wife’s sudden dominance, his cock twitching within his small clothes. He nodded quickly as he moved to lay back against the many pillows, eyes darkening as she rose from the bed to lean back on her heals. Very slowly she removed her shift, revealing the whole of her body to him.

“It is as if you are a goddess yourself, there is no need for religion when you are the alter I pray at, and the deity I pray to,” he whispered as he took in the sight. His mind putting to memory every curve, every inch of skin he laid his eyes on. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her naked before, but after such restraint it is like they are newlyweds once again. With her help he removed his tunic and small clothes, breath shaky as he looked down upon her naked form crawling up his body.

She was gentle with her touch, ghosting it over the small scars that now cover each of his legs. He shivers at the contact but does not pull away, allowing the sensitivity to wash over him and settle within his groin. He reaches with his good arm to touch her face, but she retracts to his disappointment.

“No touching,” she said with a small smirk forming at the corner of her lips. The mischievous look in her eyes was enough for him to understand it would be better to not protest. Leaning down she places soft kisses across his thighs, moving closer to his stiff member, his hips buck involuntarily as she finally takes his tip into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around the top just before pulling down his foreskin to lick at his sensitive slit.

A groan erupted from deep within his chest, wavering at the end as he gasped and sputtered. She had taken him fully into her mouth at this point, beginning to move up and down his length in a rhythmic motion.

His chest flexed as he threw his head back, his right hand hovering just next to her jaw. Knowing she would stop if he disobeyed her direct instructions, he held himself back from caressing her face. Broken gasps and whimpers were falling unabashedly from the Warden of the North’s lips, his strong, muscled body molding into putty in her hands.

Suddenly she rose and removed her mouth from him, to his disappointment. Breathing hard he kept his eyes on hers as she began to move even further up his body. His brows knitting into one another as he wondered what exactly she was doing, until it clicked, and the biggest smile graced his handsome features. He understood and shifted himself to be fully lying down, moving down the bed slightly to give her room as she moved to take her rightful place on his face. He hummed happily at the sweet taste of her on his tongue once again, having not indulged in his most favorite delicacy in far too long. She let out a sharp gasp as his lips wrapped themselves around her sensitive pearl, sucking lightly before exploring her deeper. She looked down to see his eyes closed and the most blissfully content look upon his face as he continued to ravage her with just tongue. Switching between broad strokes of his tongue along her cunt to small kitten licks upon her clit that had her panting and grinding her hips down onto him. The scruff on his unshaven face added to the sensational feeling against her as he sank his tongue within her finally. Moaning uncontrollably and quite loudly, she found herself leaning against the headboard for support as her body began to give into the pleasure he was bringing her.

“That’s it, my darling. Fall apart for me, I have you,” he coaxed, breath hitting her clit, causing her to groan, which shortly turned into the most obscenely moan. He hooked his left arm around her waist and continued to guide her to completion. With his tongue in her cunt and his nose teasing her clit, she came apart with nothing short of a scream of his name. Throwing her head back as she felt her muscles go limp from the intensity of her orgasm.

“So perfect for me,” he whispers to her, kissing the inside of her thighs softly.

She smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief as she had been just as pent up as he’s been, and finally getting some form of release was euphoric to say the least.

As she moved from his face she could see the way his lips shown with the remnants of her. She looked down to see his cock almost impossibly bigger than when she had first taken him into her mouth. She couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could he. Grabbing ahold of her hips he quickly shifts her down his body back to his waist. The tip catching at her entrance ever so slightly and they both moaned loudly in unison.

With his right hand having an iron grip on her hip, he helped her position her on top of him. As she began to sink down on his length it was as if all the air in the room had suddenly been removed. The sensation punching the air out of her lungs.

Cregan thought he was seeing the gods, his vision almost going completely white as he feels her tight, hot cunt envelope him. Arching his spine while his eyes roll to the back of his head as soon as she is fully seated on him. Staying still for a second to give them both a minute to catch their breath, she regains her strength and begins to shift her hips.

“Touch me,” she commanded softly, he didn’t need to be told twice. He moved to sit up, his forehead resting on her sternum, placing open mouthed kisses between the valley of her breasts before taking one into his mouth. His left arm secures her hips in his hold while the other hand snakes its way into her hair. Grabbing at the roots he tugs her head back to expose more of her neck to him. Laying hot, wet kisses upon any expanse of skin he could reach. As his grip around her waist tightened slightly, he kept guiding her to ride his cock slowly, thrusting up every so often causing her to choke on a moan.

“Cregan…,” she moaned his name, groans continuing to slip from her mouth as he moved to suck on her other breast. Gently lapping at the nipple as she whimpered.

“So gorgeous, my love. So good for me. Taking me so - nnnggh - well,” he grunted out, groaning when she squeezed him as his words sent a shock wave to her core. She threaded her fingers into his chocolate strands, pulling slightly earning another pleased noise from her husband.

“I’ve missed this, I’ve missed us,” she pants, looking down at his face. As he looks up, her breath catches at the sight of her fucked-out husband and his pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips.

“I know, me too,” he responds breathlessly, she cups his face and brings her lips to his. It’s messy, he crushes his mouth to hers and suddenly begins thrusting upwards, hitting that one spot deep within her.

Her gasp causes him to pull away from the kiss, but not from her. Their mouths still close, breathing in each others air as he continues to thrust into her. Tipping his head back as his face scrunches in pleasure and groaning loudly, he then ducks his head into the curve of her neck as his thrusts get more and more sloppy. His right arm still snaked up her back and his hand tangled in her hair to keep her close. She was reaching the precipice of heaven for the second time that evening, and he could tell. The way she began to squeeze him, how she fluttered around him, he knew.

“I know, my love. Give yourself to me,” he begged, whispering the pleas in her ear before kissing the shell of it. With several more thrusts she was coming undone around him, moaning and gasping as she collapses into him. With only several more thrust he too was coming undone in the most beautiful way. Flushed and groaning, he is the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Only moments afterwards, still basking in their post-coital glow, he lays back against the pillows once more. Placing a hand directly over her womb, he mutters something about “seeing her round with child in several moons” and she felt his cock jump within her as he continues to cradle his hands around her lower stomach.

“I can’t wait for you to bare my children, my love,” he states, looking into her eyes with such adoration. Resting her hands atop his she nods.

“I can’t wait to be the mother of your children, I’m sure I will be soon,” she responds, equal adoration radiating off her.

————————————————————————

She missed her moon’s blood the following month, and he was the happiest he had been in a very long time.

Although the feeling never fully returned in his left arm and hand, he had re-learned how to wield Ice with just as much skill as he did before the incident. His ankle and legs did recover after more than a year of rehabilitation, but eventually he no longer walked with a limp.

The gratitude which he felt was immeasurable. Thinking about how many ways his life could have been different if he didn’t have her to keep him sane through the most difficult thing he had ever faced; losing his physical strength and health. Most days feeling as if he couldn’t go on, but then she would be at his side to aid him in whatever he needed. Never wavering in her love or loyalty to him.

He woke every day from then on thanking the old gods and the new for sparing one of their angels to be his wife.

[heytheredelulu]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

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[stars-for-circe]

My heartfelt apology for not posting for a while, enjoy :)

Support Palestine

cw: pure smut, that’s it

A video of you and Ellie in the car, it’s rather plain, actually. She’s holding your phone, facing her way, while you seem a little occupied. But for some reason, the point of the video seems quite unclear, because for some reason, Ellie just can’t seem to get the right words out.

And instead of words coming out of her mouth, its moans and whispered swears broken up with stifled giggles from the two of you. And oh, now it’s quite obvious, what with how her head is slowly leaning back and hitting the headrest, and the first syllables of a failed sentence tries miserably to escape Ellie’s throat.

“Say it.” You whisper, sounding as though your voice is muffled.

A silence follows, then a small slurp, then a snicker as you hear her whimper. From your point of view, it’s just so fucking funny seeing Ellie struggle like this. The camera’s out of focus now, shaking slightly and facing the wrong way, but who can blame her for not focusing on the angles? Bless her, with how she tries to lift her head and look into the camera as she speaks.

“I just….just wanted to-fuck- to say that I love my girlfriend so m-much.”

“She makes me….?” You stare up at her expectantly, wiping your lips with your tongue as you slowly trace two fingers up and down, the way she’s soaking the leather seats translating into such a wet noise that the video could pick up on it.

“…She makes me s-sooo happy, and……makes me feel so good-holyshitdon’tpleasedontstop-”

“I won’t, baby.” What you say is muffled once again, your tongue now occupied all on her puffy clit, sucking and swirling above your two fingers, thrusting in and out at just the right angle. And thank god for your other hand staying unoccupied, as you take the reins on recording (since Ellie is too fucked out to care at this point).

The new angle, showing your face as you tongue fuck her, and showing the foggy car windows behind you, just barely illuminated from that busted streetlight. As you glance up at Ellie, all your encouraging open mouthed “uh huh”s and moans at how she tastes just turn into little giggles at what the fuck you’re both doing right now - fucking your girlfriend in some residential driveway, meaning you need her to stay quiet because you both were too horny to wait until you got home.

But you couldn’t really care less, as you feel her clench harder and harder on your fingers, her tattooed arm coming down to card her fingers through your hair. And you really can’t find it in you to care about anything at all as her soft hold turns into a harsh grip and tug as you make her unravel in your tongue, using your fingers to brush against her sweet spot as you slurp and suck everything Ellie gives you.

You bite your lip and smile as her breathing finally goes from heavy, whiny pants to soft sighs, pulling yourself up from the floor and into her lap. And just as you lean down to kiss her, you make sure the camera’s got both of you in frame as you make out with Ellie. You make sure she tastes herself on you, coaxing open her mouth and slipping your tongue against hers which, to your delight, elicits another small groan from her, and then a slow, fucked out smile against your mouth - one that you reciprocate.

And it feels so good to slide your hand up and pull at her hair this time, while you start to slowly grind and swivel your hips against hers - a taste of what’s to come next. You feel her hands slowly begin to trace up, up, up your back and under your clothes, a small sign that she’s ready for another round. But before you can do anything more, the fucking porch light at the end of the driveway turns on, and fuck, did the front door just open?

“Shit!”

Followed by loud snickers from the both of you as you clamber into the passenger side and Ellie stomps down on the peddle, pants still down and all. And as she tries to navigate the unfamiliar neighbourhood, you lean over and try to help her with her pants - pulling them up and grabbing her belt. But she stops you, taking a hand off the wheel and gently pushing you off.

“We’re picking up where we left off the monent we get home. Don’t bother with that, baby.”

So you just lean back into your seat, watching the houses go by as you wait with a smile on your face. Something tells you she’s gonna do good on that promise.

[vilhelios]

-; SWEET MUSIC PLAYING IN THE DARK.

your poor, overworked, singer-songwriter boyfriend has not been having a good time with comeback season. thankfully, he has you, his muse, to kickstart his creative processes—sadly, that means he's going to write yet another love song about you in his group's newest album.

CW: k-pop idol/group au! fluff, fluff and more fluff! mentions of xavier, zayne, sylus, and caleb ; not beta read, small text, all lowercase letters.

“and this—” a kiss to the jaw. “—is part of—” another kiss, a shiver jolting down your spine at the feel of his lips against your pulse point. “—your creative process?”

it’s almost embarrassing how small your voice is now, loud in the silence of rafayel’s little studio. your hands clench and unclench around rafayel’s white shirt as he peppers kisses up and down your neck, not a single sliver of your exposed skin remaining unkissed. (after all, he’d say, he must drown in every part of you.)

“hey, every artist needs their muse.” rafayel shrugs, his hands at your waist grabbing at the warm flesh there, a teasing yet grounding touch. “i just need to be appreciating said muse to get the lyrics flowing in my head.”

before you can say much else, he nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck, and he practically melts into you as he breathes in your comforting, familiar scent. like fresh laundry, citrus, honey; he recognises it as the new perfume he bought for you just a few months ago (oh, god bless royalties and good album sales… he gets to spoil his little darling). a happy little sigh leaves him as he nuzzles against you again, shifting to let your bodies melt together in a happy little pile on his office chair—you’re just what he needs after a stressful day of brainstorming new lyrics and melodies with zayne and sylus, banging his head against the wall designing concept art for the new album’s cover, and being dragged around the dance studio (half-dead and limbless) by caleb and xavier.

“yeah, i know…” you sigh, and move your hands upward, fingers curling in his soft purple hair. luckily enough, he hasn’t had to dye his hair yet, what with linkon’s netizens finding his hair to be a particularly lovable part of his charm. (they’d be right; also up there are his big, beautiful eyes, and his impressive vocal range.) there’s a beat of silence, and then you speak up again, pressing a kiss to his hair just as he presses one in kind to your throat; “are the lyrics popping up in your head…?”

“hmm.” rafayel hums, almost like he’s thinking about it. “no.” he says, simple as that, and chuckles when you groan in exasperation. “all the ones i can think of wouldn’t fit the theme. and sy would actually kill me for making us sing another ballad that was clearly inspired by you.”

(they’ve released two albums and five eps, rounding up to about 50 songs in their discography… a good chunk of the love songs rafayel got his hands on in the production process felt like individual love letters written and sung just for you. It’s starting to reach a point where some of the smarter hunters—as their fandom is called—have deduced that at least one of the boys is in a relationship.)

“really?” you raise an eyebrow at him, hand moving to pinch his cheek, “well… if it’s anything like your usual songs about me… I can agree that it doesn’t match the theme.” you pull back a little—which elicits a whine from rafayel—to look at his current getup, which he’d been too lazy to change out of after the photobook photoshoot: a crisp white shirt, black pants, and leather chest harnesses. his hands, idly rubbing up and down your sides, were adorned in black leather gloves. all in all, an attractive outfit that’s trying to encapsulate a “bad boy”, mafia vibe. “i'll have to side with sy on this one.”

“even mafiosos can sing about how they’d love their darling in every universe, y’know.” rafayel hums, leaning back to rest his head properly on the chair, eyes trained on your face. his hands continue their idle smoothing down your sides, touch gentle and warm through the layers of fabric separating your skin. those beautiful indigo-pink eyes hold that heartbreaking softness in them, and it makes you want to gently run your thumbs under the dark circles under his eyes. (you never noticed, not until caleb pointed it out, but he only ever looks at you this way.)

rafayel’s next words are soft, without the characteristic teasing and filled with something akin to reverence: “what’s the harm in another song?” he whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, "it’s just another universe to profess my love to you in, my darling muse.”

a/n: ... i saw rafayel in a harness, blacked out, and thirty minutes later this was ready on my word document. uhm. so those cards huh... (i have. enough pulls to secure you. but please come home early rafayel). reupload bc I FORGOT HOW TO TUMBLR??? and forgot tags 😭

[astralnymphh]

have u ever thought bout cowboy!ellie 👉👈

remembered this ask exists sorry it took me so long i literally have so much on my plate. but like. whenever I think of cowboy!ellie, I think of a red dead redemption 2 crossover. okay, I've only played the online game so far but GOD I would do anything for her ♡

imagine giving her a lap dance at a saloon. like in one of those private rooms. all decked up in ur' cute leather boots and long chiffon skirt bunched up on her lap, cotton chemise tossed goddess knows where— tensing your thighs around the flex of hers, squeezing a darkened blotch upon the material of her pants, wriggling the uncomfortable–ness of pooling sleek betwixt your smushed folds. ellie, so undeniably enamored in the dance your hips give, coos in that swirly drawl that's got ur' insides wrenching out gushes upon gushes of arousal, "bless you baby, workin' those hips like ya' own my fuckin' lap. ohh, fuuck— leakin' already? wanna stand n' turn? show me how she look?" and the top of her hands are so dimpled pushing her grip harsher on your ass, fondling fingerprints in the pads of fat through thin layers of fabric, drawing her hand up to land a smack every now and then, going, "yeah?" when you kick a yelp from your panting pout, ughh and she'll chuckle dry with a slanted, open–mouthed smirk, watching you squirm and defile that thigh of hers with your bewitching mien. ♡

m' like tired rn so this is a bit lazy rn but someone remind me to write this more detailed or give me a scenario for later.

she's like full evolution farm!ellie

[petitemistletoe]

rewrite your elvis fic why’d you only call me when you’re high but with one of the marauders?

Title: Why'd You Only Call me When You're High?

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, drugs, old school rocker vibes

Word Count: 1.9K+

A/N: this could only be written about Sirius I'm sorry! He's so rockstar coded! happy holidays y'all :)

… The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time

But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

… Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

Sirius finished his line of coke, flipping his head up and sniffing harshly. He gave himself a long look in the mirror. He looked great, obviously: leather jacket over a bare chest, a tangle silver and gold necklaces of varying lengths cascading down his neck to his chest. Most of his tattoos were visible and his pair of leather pants were impossibly tight. His fingers were adorned with a number of rings and his hair was that perfect combination of messed up and carefully styled. His eyeliner was smudged around his eyes and he couldn’t quite tell if his eyes were so dark from the eyeliner or from the lack of sleep. 

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he had had a solid night of sleep, but that was the nature of touring. Of course his bandmates weren’t like he was. James was boring and married with a kid, who Sirius obviously doted on, but James spent all his time when they weren’t performing or practicing with Lily and Harry. Remus was dating this guy Grant who really got under Sirius’s skin. Was it because Sirius and Remus had had a fling, an excellent mind-blowing fling, and when Remus pushed for more Sirius said no and Remus moved onto Grant? Maybe. Was it because Grant was disgustingly kind and sweet and felt like the absolute antithesis of Sirius? Maybe. Was it because Grant had gotten Remus into tea and biscuits rather than coke and pills? Maybe it was that too. And then there was Peter. Peter, bless his heart, tried his absolute best but the coke made his nose bleed, pills made him constipated, and liquor made him vomit. So most nights after a show, James would go home to Lily and Harry, Remus would go home to Grant, Peter would go home to god knows who (probably his cats or gerbils or whatever), and Sirius would go anywhere but home. 

He had liked groupies, townies, the international girls and guys, but he liked you most of all. You were a bit of a forbidden fruit, you were his brother Regulus’s best friend, but that made it all the more appealing. Sirius only went home, only spent the night in his bed, if he knew you would be there too. 

Sirius dialed your number as he made his way home in the backseat of his limo. He was rolling something that he wasn’t sure if it was a joint or a cigarette as the phone rang. He did a double take as he drove past Newt Scamander’s house. Newt Scamander was an old school rocker, a living legend basically, and even though he was a little past his prime looks-wise, he was still a sex symbol. But it wasn’t just Newt’s house that caused Sirius’s double take, it was the fact that he thought he saw walking out of Newt’s house, carrying your phone in one hand and your heels in the other. Sirius shook the thought from his brain, figuring that he was so high he probably just saw a tree branch or something. Sirius got your voicemail but he knew, despite the late hour, that you were not asleep. He dialed you again. And again. And again. Until finally he heard your voice.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” You sounded annoyed but he just laughed it off as he walked into his house, stepping out of his boots and kicking them off somewhere, stripping his sweaty clothes haphazardly and letting them fall off his body haphazardly. 

“That’s how you answer the phone? No hi?” Sirius teased, falling back on his bed and stretching his sore muscles. 

“Hi.” You said pointedly, “why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

“I’m not high.” Sirius said, taking a long drag of his spliff. 

“It’s three in the morning, Sirius.”

“Come over baby.” Sirius crooned. 

“You’re still talking the same shite you always did.” You were rolling your eyes, Sirius knew you were. 

“It’s harder and harder to get you to listen, baby.” Sirius said, a bite of annoyance coming through. He was on the come down from his earlier line and and was getting irritated. 

“Luckily for you I’m incapable of making alright decisions. I’ll see you in a few.” You disconnected the call. 

Sirius finished his spliff and began to roll another one. There were a few messages on his phone from James, he was probably up at one of those late night feedings for Harry. He started to read through them when he heard his door open and shut and after a few moments you were in his bedroom, crawling your way up the bed towards him. 

“That was fast.” Sirius frowned. Usually it took you at least fifteen minutes to get from your place to his, even in the dead of night when no one was out on the street. 

“You complaining?” You asked, pulling your shirt over your head as you straddled him. Sirius was going to question things more but suddenly your tits were in his face and he forgot all about that. 

… Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

He buried his face between your tits and groaned,

“This is my favorite place in the absolute world.”

“Well make yourself useful, Black, and stimulate my nipples.” You said, gripping his hair harshly. Sirius obliged, wrapping his lips around one of your hard nipples and his nimble fingers flew to other one, tweaking and pinching it. You were grinding down in his lap against his hard-on until his lips moved from nipples up around the curvature of your breast, then up your clavicle, then up your neck, until he got up to your lips. Before he could connect his lips to yours, you pulled back and made your way down his body and wrapped your hand around his cock. Sirius gasped as you ran your hand between your legs to lubricate it and then started jerking Sirius off. You laid flat on your stomach between Sirius’s legs and continued jerking him as you lightly sucked one of his balls into your mouth. Sirius went from the light gasps to strangled, intense moans and he felt like his lungs were about the collapse. 

“Get up,” he choked out, “I need to be inside you.”

You lifted yourself up and without much warning you seated yourself on Sirius’s cock. Sirius groaned and held your hips hard in place, preventing you from moving. 

“Sirius, come on.” You whined, your nose touching his as you tried to move again. Sirius released his grip and started fucking up into you hard. Sirius lifted his jaw, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You pulled away harshly, pushing yourself up so you were no longer pressed against his chest. Sirius thought about saying something but then you moved your hips in the most delicious way and he forgot all about it. Sirius pulled you off of him and flipped you over, bending you over so your chest and face were pressed against the mattress and your hips were up in the air. There was a tattoo at the base of your back that had have been new. He pushed into you, his hands grasping your hips like he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. 

He was close, so so close to finishing, but he was distracted by the tattoo on your back. It looked like a constellation, it was vaguely familiar looking, maybe it was something that he had studied in an astronomy course. One of the stars on the constellations was darker than the rest and it had a small green glow mark around it. 

“Did you snort too much or something? I’m getting rug burn here.” You said, turning and looking over your shoulder at Sirius. Sirius’s eyes snapped back up to yours and as he locked eyes with you he came. He always tried to pull out but he was caught off guard this time that he came inside you.

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

… Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?”

“Fuck Sirius!” You snapped, jumping off him and running to the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” Sirius murmured. It was weird…that tattoo was so so weird. It felt like something was sitting on chest he was so strangled by the idea that he had seen that exact constellation before.

“Fuck Sirius,” you repeated, walking back into his room and shaking your head, “I gotta get a morning after pill tomorrow.” You walked over to Sirius’s discarded tight leather pants and pulled out a few crumpled up bills that were in his pockets. “This is why I fucking hate having sex with you when you’re high.”

“I’m not high,” Sirius said weakly, still staring at your tattoo as you were bent over digging through his pockets.

“You only ever call me when you’re high.” You said, straightening up and starting to pull on your clothes.

“You aren’t staying?” Sirius felt like he was running out of time.

“I, uh, have to be up in the morning so I need to have an…early night.” You said, not looking Sirius in the eyes. 

“Am I starting to bore you baby?”

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

… And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I

It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time

I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

You said you gotta be up in the mornin'

Gonna have an early night

And you're startin' to bore me, baby

“I’m fine, Sirius. I just have an early morning.” You said in a snippier tone than Sirius had ever expected to hear from you.

“What’s that tattoo on your back?” Sirius stormed across the room and grabbed you by the arm harshly. 

“It’s the constellation Leo.” You snapped back, glaring up at Sirius.

“And what’s the glow on that star?” Sirius didn’t know why he was getting so upset but his blood pressure was only continuing to rise as he looked at you and thought about that tattoo.

“You really don’t know?” You smiled cruelly. “You really don’t recognize it.”

“What is it?” Sirius could feel his nose bleeding and he wiped at it. There was a streak of smeared blood on his cupid’s bow.

“It’s the star Regulus.” You grinned.

“Why’d you have to be such a bitch?” Sirius screamed.

“Why’d you have to be?” You retorted.

“Why’d you always lie?”

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

… "Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?”

[vashs-turtleneck]

Reverence

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Sinister!Vash x Reader Summary: Vash isn't the monster people say he is. They just don't understand the lengths at which he'll go to save humanity and the plants. A few... sacrifices are necessary to make a world like that, but you will always be his loyal follower. CW: smut, blowjob, religious imagery, god/follower dynamics, blood. Word count: 1.4k AN: wanted a sinister Vash where he's trying to save everyone but in a very delusional way. this was originally supposed to be like a 200 word thing....what happened...

They call him a walking disaster, the humanoid typhoon, the diablo, but you know better than anyone else that it's not true. People are wrong about Vash the Stampede.

Everything he does is for mankind. He strives only for the betterment of No Man's Land, a world where humans and plants can live together in harmony. Can't they see that? How blind can the people be to his blessings that they place a bounty over his head and deem him a demon? The people he hurts, the lives he takes, the towns he destroys, it's all for their benefit - small sacrifices to make for the interest of the many. He doesn't want to hurt people. He doesn't want to take lives, but it's a sin he's ready to bear for everyone's sake. They don't see him in the late hours of the night, when he wipes the blood from his hands and sorrow fills his eyes, his tears mixing with the crimson smeared along his cheeks. Yet, they call you a fool, call you crazy for following him the way these people follow their false gods. At least you know your god is real.

And he always keeps you close. You're not allowed out of his sight, lest you want to be punished. Luckily, you're always right behind him, following constantly at his heel, giving him every ounce of your devotion. You know it's for your own sake that he keeps the leash tight around your neck. He only wants to keep you safe, after all. Whatever he does, you know he has your best intentions in mind. You'd strip and bark like a dog if he told you to because you trust him so completely. That dazzling smile would never deceive you, even if it doesn't meet his eyes.

So when he tells you to drop down to your knees, you do so without hesitation, falling down to the hard wood floors with a resounding *thud*, but you don't mind. The bruises it leaves behind will be a testament of your faith. 

“Always so good. So quick to listen.”

It's instinctual, the way you lean into his touch when he pets you, metal fingers running through your hair while his hand of flesh and bone works to unbuckle his belt, followed by the low purr of a zipper being undone. You watch in awe as Vash frees himself from those tight leather pants, his perfect cock leaking pretty beads of precum down along his shaft, and you have to fight back the urge to go against his grip and run your tongue along the length of him, to savor every drop of him. He pulls you in closer by your hair, brushing the tip along your cheek and leaving behind a wet trail of precum - a promise of what's to come.

“Open wide, mayfly.”

Your lips part immediately, and he gives you no time before every delicious inch of his cock is thrust into your mouth, the tip slamming against the back of your throat. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh that heats you up to the core, and he keeps himself still for a few moments, savoring the warmth of your eager mouth around him. His fingers card through your hair, a dark, breathy chuckle leaving the humanoid typhoon before his hips reel back and slam back against you. He falls into a feverish rhythm, rutting himself against your mouth with his tight grip on your hair pushing and pulling your head back and forth for his own pleasure.

“Suck. Suck hard.”

And you do. Of course you do. Your cheeks hollow as you accept him fully and unabashedly into your mouth, your tongue lavishing the scarred underside of his cock, tracing every vein and mapping out every inch of him with your lips. Even as you choke and gag and tears stream down your cheeks, your gaze stays focused on the man standing above you. He looks down at you with a wide smile, showing off those sharp canines that have left their mark on you too many times to count, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and those dark, hooded eyes fixed on you.

“So pretty with your mouth full like that.”

Every bit of your discomfort is worth it when those saccharine words fall from his lips. 

“So beautiful when you're struggling. You'll swallow every drop I give you, won't you?”

You can't reply when your mouth is being used as a toy for the humanoid typhoon, but the way you mewl so desperately for his cum is more than enough of an answer for him.

“Haah… That's right. Take all of it.”

He tightens his grip on your head, pushing you down on him all the way to the hilt and keeping you still. You watch as Vash throws his head back with a rumbling groan, spending himself down your throat and flooding your mouth with his cum. You moan at the taste of him, and you have to stop your eyes from rolling back, lest you miss even a moment of his pleasure. You gather every savory drop of him with your lips and tongue, swallowing it all down with hungry enthusiasm. To waste even a drop of such a generous offering would be a terrible sin. 

“Mayfly.”

Vash suddenly pulls you up on your feet by the hair with his metal hand. He cups your face and pinches your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your lips to purse as he trails the tip of his tongue up along your cheek, tasting your tears and leaving behind a scorching path along your skin.

“Such a mess. You look delectable, sweetheart.”

He pulls back with a growl, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the view of you looking so completely and utterly wrecked, and he hasn't even touched you yet. He crashes his lips against yours, knocking your teeth together in a hungry kiss. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and caresses it against your own, invading every one of your senses. Whether it's his tongue or his cock, your mouth molds itself to him. Everything you have to give, everything you are, it's all for him. He consumes you, mind, body, and soul. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths for a moment before it breaks.

Oh, he's being so generous, letting you have a taste of both his lips and his dick tonight.

“I could devour you, but I’m not done with you just yet. Back on your knees. Now. I wouldn't wanna have to punish my precious little bug for being disobedient.”

You lick your lips clean of his flavor and settle back down on your knees. Your hands mindlessly clasp together in front of your chest, akin to a devotee praying at their place of worship.

He cups your cheek in his large, calloused palm, guiding your open mouth back onto him. This time, Vash's pace is much slower, much more gentle. His hips glide in a deep, sensual rhythm, giving you the time to feel every ridge and every inch of him. You've taken care of his initial hunger, that burning need for release, and now he rewards you by letting you take your time with his cock. You hum sweetly as you continue to pamper him, your tongue swirling along his cockhead and teasing the slit with the tip of your tongue, groaning as you taste the remnants of his release.

“Oh, mayfly,” he coos, his thumb swiping away a fallen tear from your cheek. He looks down at you with such tenderness that it makes you whimper. 

“You're so good. So good.”

You want to be good. All you want is to be good to him, show him that despite the venom spat his way, you will always be at his side. You live for him, and you'll die for him.

“My precious little mayfly. I'll be…so sad the day I have to kill you.”

Poor, sweet man. Your heart aches for him, for the martyr he's been forced to become. But you're still here. For now, anyway, and you'll sing his praises to the heavens as long as you draw breath. It doesn't matter how much your throat burns and your eyes sting, as long as you're pulling those deep, succulent moans from him, as long as he praises you so sweetly, you'll be on your knees for him, worshiping him like the angel you see him as.

divider source.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: I've been havin' dreams

A/n: I've been stuck in this goddamn dream for like a month now, and you're bordering between the concept of God's blessing and sin's curse. I cling to your scarlet satin shirt like it's my last and only salvation, nearly ripping it off you, and you don't even mind.

Written on Billie's point of view, I'm just interested in experimenting with the presentation of the text.

"'BITTERSUITE'? Well, it sounds delicious just from the name alone," you purr in my ear, and I nearly jump two feet up in my chair in surprise, scattering all the thoughts and melodies going around in my head to dust. Shit.

Your short laugh, the palm of your hand that gently outlines my shoulder - that's all you are. And it's impossible to take offense at you, because you immediately draw a sincere "I'm sorry" in the air with just one lips, sitting down on the table, and I know you didn't do it on purpose, it just happened. A brief glance at you instantly turns into an uncompromising infinity.

"Finneas told me to tear you away from the monitor, and I fully support it." - You're slipping your leg over your foot, which in those straight-cut black pants is a total crime against my peace. - "You've both already done an incredible amount today, and it's barely lunchtime."

Nod silently in response, but my eyes only go higher. Past the supposedly aged eco-leather belt, I meet the expensive sheen of scarlet satin. The slightly carelessly arranged collar and neckline hiding the glitter of the pendant and, more importantly, your tantalizing collarbones.

"What, you like it that much, Eilish?" - the smirk on your face puts an intimate stroke on my heart, and I realize I've been staring at you too openly, for too long.

"Sometimes I wish I could erase all my pictures from the covers and put you in there, my girl," I cling to my desk with my hand (but wish I could cling to your damn collarbones) to pull myself up and move closer along with the office chair.

"Don't talk me into it, honey. Get away from the monitor and give yourself a well-deserved rest."

"Already ripped off, thanks for your presence," - the chair is a thing of the past, with the new tactic coming in. I come as close to you as possible, hands resting on either side of you. Behind you is a plethora of music equipment, in front of you is me. You're trapped, Y/n. - "And do you really think my compliments aren't sincere?"

The corner of your lips twitch as the smirk that was cheekily painted on your beautiful face is replaced by an embarrassed smile, and you look away. My hand touches your chin, bringing eye contact back. Be brave to the end, girl. Not like me.

"You can be expected to do anything when it comes to music."

"Only music?" - my fingers feel a pleasant coolness touching the collar of your shirt. A smile appears on face. It's invariable when you're around.

"Okay, me too," you chuckle warmly. You watch my movements with undisguised interest as I remove a few rings from my fingers.

"And yet what is the reason? Suddenly, the Met Gala was announced, and neither I nor my managers are aware?".

"Shut up!" - You cluck funny and ruffle my hair, wanting to hide the growing embarrassment. - "Your mom asked me to help her with a deal regarding a charity stock package."

"'Support And Feed'?" - I methodically slip my rings onto your fingers, one by one. The finishing touch is to intertwine our fingers into a lock, creating perfect symmetry.

"Absolutely right." - You bring our interlocked hands to your lips, showering them with short kisses. So trembling. - "И... Thanks for the compliments, really."

"Will you kiss me for this?" - I raise an eyebrow, catching the sparkle in your eyes.

And you kiss. Just because we both want it, other reasons are crumpled sheets of paper, something empty and unnecessary. Nibbling on your lower lip, pulling it back a little, pressing you closer to me when the only obstacle is only our clothes - this is my ambrosia. You throw your arms around my neck, burning yourself against the cold of the massive silver chain even through the thin satin, and I just grab your hips, tearing a ragged exhale from your hot lips. A pathetic plea for more in front of the eyes of affairs and circumstances.

"I have to go, Eilish..."

"Do you know I'm always crazy short of you?" - I take a moment to leave the hot touch of my lips on your neck. A new hitched exhale. The knot below your stomach slowly tightens, fiering.

"I know." - You hug me so tightly, completely disarming me with a feeling of all-consuming comfort. - "Still, try not to stay up too, okay? I'll be back late."

You disappeared out the door of my home studio half an hour ago, and I can still see the air trembling between us before you say it and I steal another hungry kiss. I lean back tiredly in my chair and shield my eyes from the blue light of the monitor while my fingers touch the keys of the midi keyboard in a half-sleep and your lips form an eloquent "love you" over and over again. Do you love my fears, too?

×××

The huge tiered chandelier was blinding, and the staircase in front of me twisted into a labyrinth with an incalculable number of ebony steps and equally incalculable meters of carpeting. Everything is as it should be: fabulously expensive carpeting, wood paneled walls, complete with ornate bas-reliefs, and as if that weren't enough - stained glass gilded lamps on the walls. The white light is irritating to the point of grinding teeth, and even if you try to cover your eyes - everything is absolutely useless.

I don't even try to get up from my knees, knowing that any effort will come to nothing. Something presses me so hard to the ground that there is no point in resisting: hundreds of attempts have yielded no result, so why resist, knowing the outcome? The only thing that gives an imaginary feeling of freedom is the feeling of baggy clothes on the body. Sneakers, long-sleeved shirt, pants, all white. And that only adds fuel to the furnace of irritation. The helplessness and the maddening whiteness. And your figure staring down at me, unreachably perched on the steps.

I've been stuck in this goddamn dream for like a month now, and you're bordering between the concept of God's blessing and sin's curse. Everything is unchanging, chiseled with detail in my memory, but not today. Your perpetually naked silhouette, taut as a string in a Stradivarius violin, today is swathed in the red satin of a weightless shirt and raven wing pants. My gaze clings to the silver glint playing on your devilish fingers: not magic, but my rings.

If things aren't the same today, will you be my long-awaited salvation?

"Open up the door for me." - mechanically and without a second thought. I know what I'm going to say, I know what you want to hear. I am but a defenseless lamb before you, a bowed-down bigot.

"Why should I?" - the flames of madness dance in your eyes. Your ringed hand touches the cold, spotless lacquered railing.

"'Cause I'm still on my knees, I'm stayin' off my feet."

And you descended lower, shaking the ghostly silence of the foyer with the stern sound of the heels of your shoes. Step by step, step by step. You keep your eyes on me, but I'm not lagging behind, looking at you as if I'm going to take you into my storm, the blue shards of my exhausted eyes. The closer you get, the higher I have to lift my head, just until you grab my chin imperiously. I catch a reflection of myself in your eyes: blue shards sharper than ever, ready to surrender to you at any moment, just say the word. I see the way you want me, I wanna be the one.

"Just want you to touch me..."

"Anything else?" - you snap your fingers and my throat immediately begins to tear with pain. You're depriving me of oxygen, it'll be over soon. The rings on your hand still glow hungrily. My rings.

"I've been overseas." - Like someone dragging a rusty chain across the floor, a wheeze cutting through my hearing, pushing the words out on the last volume of oxygen. - "I don't need to breathe when you look at me, all I see is green."

"So tell me for real." - Something you've never said before.

Click! And you disappear, a hazy haze dissipating into the air. I clutch at my throat, as if that will help me hold on to the last bits of oxygen. My eyes blur and pure panic runs through my veins.

"Billie!"

The foyer becomes a huge mosaic, disintegrating into a network of many cracks. Concrete crumbs are falling from the ceiling, and the gigantic chandelier is shaking to an outrage, wanting to fly down, glass fragments spread across the floor.

"Billie!"

And I finally take my first loud breath.

×××

I jerk out of bed, clutching at your scarlet satin shirt like it's my last and only salvation, almost tearing it off you, and you don't even mind. You wrap your arms around me like a lost child, stroking my head, whispering something, and I can't focus. I can't piece together the stained glass of my dreams and reality, so I just tearfully snuggle into your chest, seeking refuge like you're Noah's Ark.

"Shh, I'm right here, Billie, it was a dream." - You smell like night and street and ink. Wrapping my arms and legs around you, just so you don't leave again.

You don't ask me what I was dreaming about, just rocking me in your arms like a baby, telling me over and over that it's just a dream, offering me water. It's only when the two of us are on the bed, right on the blanket that was knocked over in the panic of the nightmare, that I tell you everything. You remain silent, listening intently, while I undo the buttons of your shirt. One by one, like a meditation.

"Who am I to you?" - A whisper in the dark when you are left completely unclothed. - "Who am I, along with all my fears?"

"L'amour de ma vie," - you whisper confidently as you gently touch your lips to my forehead.

L'amour de ma vie...

[hey-august]

Dadbod Buggy is so good and my personal hc (because how on earth would he pull off a sixpack? I’m not even calling him weak or unfit I just really feel a pirate that’s a tad more on the lazy side and has an affinity for food and drinks would at least not have a SIXPACK I don’t CARE what canon says) so please imagine with me:

Dadbod Buggy wearing something like a a girdle or other shapewear to keep his outline a tad smoother. He feels he looks more respectable with it and it also helps him get back into place correctly after using his powers and HES NOT SELF CONCIOUS ABOUT YET ANOTHER THING ABOUT HIMSELF SHUT UP!!

Imagine him getting someone into bed and being nervous because for all his showboating and boisterous behavior he didn’t think about what to do when the clothes would finally have to come OFF. Tries to dim the lights and hope he can maybe suck it in for long enough but of course his bedfellow notices and… are just completly smitten? Swooning even? It’s not a turn off at all? What- OH OKAY SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN THERES ENOUGH OF HIM TO LAST THE WHOLE NIGHT GEESH!! Bedmate is in heaven. Actual pirate heaven, where god has blessed them with a man with long hair and thick lashes and even thicker tights, paired with a belly that has just the right amount of jiggle when you ride him like a rodeobull.

Also now got blessed with the mental image of Buggy’s stomach resting slightly on someone’s ass while he fumbles with his belt so he can take of his pants and rail them from behind. hmmmmm fat men ❤️

ANON. ANON HOW COULD YOU. Let me tell you how I needed DAYS to recover from reading this. The way I had to put my phone down while reading this the first time. KICKING MY LEGS AND GIGGLING each time I re-read it!! so blessed 😩🫠❤️❤️❤️

BIG YES to dadbod buggy. To chubby squishy clown man. To rolls I want to smother in butter.

He absolutely would try to hide his insecurities wear functionable accessories. The leather belt corset-looking thing he wears in OPLA seems like the exact thing he’d wear to keep shape. This also works with his whole flashy outfit. Anything to distract from…whatever. Let’s not talk about it. It’s not a big deal.

Until it is a big deal and he has to be vulnerable. Ew. Awful. But you’re right, this is not a turn off. Buggy’s not sure how things turned out the way they did, but the absolute mind-blowing enthusiasm from his partner seems way too sincere and real. They can’t keep their hands (and mouth) off of him. 

He didn't expect all the attention - hands running everywhere on his body, squeezing his thighs, groping his ass and trying to get the biggest handfuls of that sweet sweet plumpness, kisses squished into every soft mound - but his partner is loving it. They’re absolutely feral.

They’re begging to suck him off and be smothered between his legs. For real. Seriously. Buggy better wrap his legs around their head. Push them so far down that their face is pressed against his stomach. They want to feel him everywhere. How dare Buggy try and deny them this pleasure????

Buggy still feels unsure the next day. The horniness is gone and so is the attraction, right? NOPE. TIME FOR SQUISHY CUDDLES. BIG BEAR HUGS. The attraction is NOT GONE. They want to rest their head on his stomach. Not his chest, not his shoulder, but his goddamn stomach. It’s the best pillow and they drift off into twilight so fast.

The hugs. Buggy didn’t get it at first...he still doesn’t, actually, but he’ll put up with it. It makes his heart pitter patter when they come up and wrap their arms around him from behind, squeezing into his rotund tum until he grunts and groans from how tight the hug his. Sometimes they sneak a handful and a jiggle of his tits pecs. His pecs.

Finally, slowly, he starts to accept this about himself a little more. It started with wearing pants and no shirt around his partner, despite his stomach hanging over the waistband. Any time Buggy was unsure about how he looked, his partner would be so supportive. They’d hear him out and give Buggy whatever he needed, which was usually a mountain of compliments that quickly turned into flirting and dirty raunchy sex.

Now listen. Imagine with me...convincing Buggs to have a little beach day. No swimming, obviously. But to hang out under the palm trees and soak in the sun. And this motherfucker shows up like a hotshot. Blue hair in a ponytail. Sunglasses. And he’s in shorts. They show so much of his goddamn thighs. You're looking so respectfully. How could you not?? He’s also wearing an unbuttoned shirt. And holy shit, the way it flutters in the breeze. You can see the chest hair on his beautiful pecs and dusting down his tummy. That gorgeous squishy body.

Fucking beach day.

[yourfatherlucifer]

Cyberpunk (Jongho)

Idol!Jongho x Gn!Reader

Summary: Your favorite performance of your boyfriends was cyberpunk, he was perfect in every way. Every time he performed you just melted. Thoughts of Jongho.

Genre: Drabble/Idol/Headcanons/Smut

AU: None

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, muscle kink, dirty talk, it’s cyberpunk haribo.

WC: 610

Dedicated to @ssaboala

Net: @pirateeznet @cultofdionysusnet

Tags: @starlitmark @yoonguurt @anyamaris

Choi Jongho.

The most beautiful and caring man in your eyes.

He is your boyfriend, he appeared tough on stage but in reality was the sweetest and most caring man you’d ever met.

He always loved to flex his strength to you, no matter the setting. As long it was from prying eyes.

Be it, you watching him dance practice, muscle flex, cooking food for you, muscle flex. Every chance he got he’d do it just for you.

But he was also very shy and introverted. Yes, he dislikes physical touch, but that’s on camera, when he’s alone, he loves it from you.

Anytime you’d flirt with him in front of people, he’d cower behind his hands and blush like a madman. Like the episode of him miss-hearing a member, he thought they said wooyoungs panties. The man was a mess.

He’d blush often like that for you and giggle. His cute red cheeks.

But when he wasn’t shy..

That’s a different story, that man is confident in privacy.

He’d often pin you to the walls, especially after or before a performance.

He’d drag you off somewhere away from cameras or people. He wasn’t horny 24/7, but he couldn’t help it when he was around you.

Especially before one particular performance.

Cyberpunk.

Your favorite.

His outfit was everything, the choreography he performed.

The chair part. Oh my god, the chair part.

The way he man spreads, normally that’s disgusting for any other man, but Jongho, your man. It’s everything.

As you sat in the dressing room, watching the performance from a tv, your legs crossed together.

You could hear his vocals from within the back area. A blessing to hear every time.

You couldn’t help but have dirty thoughts.

Imagining his big muscle-y thighs wrapped around your head.

Or his arms.

His veiny hands wrapped around your throat, giving a little squeeze.

Maybe you’d ask him if you could ride his thigh.

You know he’d let you, but he’d also tease you for being so whipped for him.

He’d wait till everyone in the dressing room left and it was just the two of you. You’d only be allowed to get yourself off on his thigh, clothes still on.

He’s a menace when it came to your sexual activities.

Riding his thigh with the clad leather/latex pants he wore. Oh the friction.

Knowing him, he’d flex it and cause immense pleasure to your vital regions.

He’d tease your body by dragging his shiny purple mic along it. He’d flick your hardened nipples with the bulb part of the mic.

He’d tell you to strip him from his torso.

After that, you’d whisper in his ear, “Can I make you feel alive?”

He’d giggle then his face would harden, “You could try but-“

Then he’d take your arms behind your back and tighten them with his belt.

You’d have no balance while taking this man. He wouldn’t even hold onto you.

He’d laugh at how miserable you were, the way you could not get yourself off.

Soon enough though you knew one of the members would come to collect the two of you so you had to wrap it up.

You’d pick yourself up, hands still tied behind your back, and collapse on his lap, grinding into his massive hardened cock.

It felt so good to the both of you.

You could not stop your relentless pace.

You’d cum soon and he would too.

You couldn’t bring yourself to dirty his outfit so you had to stop.

Disappointing the both of you.

He’d untie you while saying, “We will finish this later.”

Oh this man will be the end of you.

[korraofthereef]

BASED OFF THIS ASK

warnings — smut , p in v , jealousy trope

18+ MDNI

Bruce Wayne had always been a busy man. As much as he tried to make time for you, there were always pressing matters that demanded his attention. Tonight was no different.

You sat in the corner of the lavish gala, watching as Bruce engaged in polite conversation with a stunning woman. Her laughter echoed across the room, and the way she casually touched his arm made your stomach churn.

Why did he have to be so charming? You knew it was part of the persona, part of being Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

He glanced your way, a brief flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. When Bruce finally managed to remove himself from the conversation and make his way over to you, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Having fun?” you asked, aiming for nonchalance.

“Just business,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “You know how it is.”

“Business with someone who looks like she walked out of a fashion magazine?” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

You looked away, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “No, of course not. It’s just... I’m not blind, Bruce.”

He gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re the only one I want.”

His sincerity was disarming, and the jealousy that had been gnawing at you began to fade. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, pulling you into a reassuring embrace.

Bruce spent the rest of that night’s evening with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, letting everyone with eyes take in the scene for themself.

But once the guests had gone and Wayne manor was left to the two of you, Bruce had you face down on his fancy leather count, dress bunched up to your waist with your knees tucked under you.

His hot breath fanned your cheek but it was hard to notice with the constant sensation of Bruce Wayne pounding into you like there wasn’t just an old couple occupying this couch not even twenty minutes ago.

“No one could rip me away from you, you know why, hun?” His gravel filled voice scratched the ear of yours facing the air.

All you could manage was a slight whine—and boy did it make Bruce feel pride swell in his chest.

“Because no person on the planet could be this perfect for me. . . This pliant—because my woman knows me better than anyone.” And god bless anyone who tried to deny it.

With his hips increasing in speed at the same time your moans grew in pitch, an ending so beautiful to your night that you couldn’t have pictures it better yourself.

He filled you so good, he always did. Laying in the aftershocks of your orgasm with Bruce already pulling up his pants and grabbing ahold of your shoulder to pull you up the couch, the billionaire sat in the space where your face previously called home and placed you head in his muscle riddled lap.

“There’s no need to be jealous, hun. Only my girl will do it for me.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: religious cole cassidy x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Cole Cassidy knows himself a man of faith

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.88k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 3rd person POV, religion, catholisism, murder, guns, hunting, internalized homophobia, implied sex (non-descriptive), use of the words "Satan" and "devil"

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: my only knowledge of religion is going to a religious school from Pre-K to 12.

The inspo + blue eye samurai

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Cole Cassidy was a man of faith. He recited the Lord's prayer in the mornings, said his grace before meals—he spoke His name into His night of sparse stars like a man persecuted on the cross, though in his life, he had always confessed to the Father at his local Church, bathed under the reds, greens and blues and yellows of the stained glass windows; he had atoned for everything he'd done, despite his motivation always being to carry out his duty for the Lord, as He intended.

And even as his bounties for men starved from God and veered off His path took him out of his town and into unexplored lands, he finished his work in time for the Lord's day, which he would, on his name and His too, never violate.

Cole Cassidy had done everything for Him the moment he was taught of His existence. Because He had given him this blessing of life, or living free, and He had given His son's life so he could live free of sin.

Who was Cole Cassidy if not a servant of the Lord? What was his Peacekeeper for, if not for his mortal duty?

Cole thinks he should not ask such questions—even the thought of such a possibility would be a desecration of the Lord's plan.

Time and time again, the Lord has tested him, and time and time again, his faith never shook.

But this, this wasn't the Lord testing him. This was the work of Satan, or the man, no, the devil, himself.

This was the devil before him, he was sure, and he was masquerading as a man, a mortal, just like him, no, the devil could never be just like him.

His hat was stitched in gold and tipped over his eyes; it was black, as was the leather of his vest and his shoes, and the canvas of his pants.

Though, when Cole first laid eyes upon him, it was not the color of His night that he saw, but crimson.

Bold, screaming, thick crimson.

Accompanied by him was the sound of death, shot after shot, bullets bouncing, gunpowder blazing, the roll of the cylinder and the tick tick tick, of bullets inserted into each chamber.

There were four ticks, of six chambers in the cylinder, two were empty.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Four men dead, and that was all. Silence.

Cole thought he had anticipated the number meticulously, counted the victims before them, and even before, counted the number of people he'd remove prematurely from the Lord's plan.

Until the devil aimed his revolver, and Cole forgot the ticks he'd counted as the barrel aligned with his nose, and bang.

The revolver fired empty.

The devil chuckled, he lifted his gaze, and Cole saw his lips, widened with a maniacal joy, perfectly white teeth bared; and his eyes were covered with green lensed, golden frames, and yet his eyes remained brown.

Cole faced death every day of the week except the first, and he was never scared, because he knew the Lord had planned of him something greater, but this day, finally, he felt fear.

But the revolver fired air, and he should be relieved, but he isn't. He's stuck in place, because the devil is walking towards him, tracking a careless trail through piles of people, carcasses, like it wasn't a maze, but tall blades of grass under his nose.

Cole remained stuck in place when the devil put the barrel under his chin and fired, again, nothing but air. The force of it still hurt, and it roused Cole out of his stupor, but again, he remained in place, cornered by Satan himself.

"You are alive," the devil says, "by fate. You must be a God's boy."

Cole almost corrected him, almost reprimanded him for uttering the Lord's name without respect, and for even suggesting that there were more than one Lord, as though the devil himself worshiped the stone statue under the pelting of the angry sky. All until Cole caught his tongue, for fear, again, of the devil's golden revolver and, as he realized that he was merely calling him one of the Lord's believers.

Yes, Cole Cassidy wanted to say, because to be ashamed of being one of the Lord's children was to curse Him, but by fear, again, he held his tongue, for if the devil knew he was, he would load a bullet into a chamber and be done with it. He kept quiet, again, cursing his Father, and he would be sure to confess for it as soon as the devil was gone.

Satan answered it himself, however, with a word. "Yes." He knew, and yet he lowered his revolver. "Go seek your God."

Cole remained in place, even as the devil turned his back to him and removed his red shawl, and as he folded the fabric and showed off the underside, Cole noticed it was truly green.

"Is that your bike?" The devil turned his head to the side, and Cole finally moved to nod. "I need it. May I borrow it?"

A question, so respectful in its wording, and yet it was a lie. He knew it himself as he laughed, "No? Alright. Allow me to hitch a ride. The nearest town, if you please."

He beckoned him with two fingers, and he stood idly by as Cole mounted the bike, then took a seat behind him.

Cole took off, the devil on his bike and pressed behind his back, where none but His sunlight should shine.

But instead, His sunlight illuminated the devil's back, a sick joke.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

When Cole parked his bike at the nearest Church, the devil did nothing but raise a brow and follow suit.

The cowboy ignored the devil as he walked the long rows of pews, his boots over the red carpet of the aisle that doesn't change color when the devil walks behind him.

When he came before the monument of his Father, he kneeled and he prayed.

The devil took a seat, and he watched, and he listened; but Cole didn't care, even as he prayed for forgiveness for denying the fact, via silence, that he was his Lord's child. The cowboy continued to murmur audibly into his hands to forgive the man behind him, that He forgive him for the blood on his hands and staining his clothes, for the bullets he's used and for the lives he's stolen.

The corner of the man's lips rose, but his venomous fangs didn't bare. He watched the man in front of his Lord's monument, kneeling on his knees over rough carpet, bathed in the glow of the rainbow of sunlight shined through stained windows, and he listened to his words.

As Cole spoke his last word, amen, the devil laughed. Cole remained on his knees as the devil stood and walked behind him, until again he came to a stop.

"You pray for me?" He says, "How kind."

And that is all he says.

Cole finally speaks to him as they both leave the Church, and as the man seemingly waits for him. "What are your intentions?" The cowboy asks, though his voice is not clear of fear, he tries to keep his confidence.

"I am a man in a foreign land." He removes his hat and places it over his chest, his smile turning warm, and manipulative, "I am in need of shelter. Will you, kind believer, grant me what I need?"

Cole knew it was his duty to give shelter to that which needs it, and the devil before him knew it too; but even with this plain act of utter manipulation, Cole is not at disposal to say no.

He mounts his bike and waits for the devil to steal his righteous sunlight.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

When Cole opens the door for him, the man takes off his hat. He knows his manners. He stands by the door, and Cole turns to look at him once it is locked. The cowboy remains silent, his expression forcibly neutral, and it does nothing except light the man's gorgeous smile.

"Thank you."

Cole knows his manners too.

"You're welcome."

The cowboy heads deeper inside his house, unaccompanied by the click of the man's spurs; he thinks it curious, so he turns, and realizes he's gone.

Cole Cassidy thinks it a miracle by faith, and heaves a sigh of relief. The devil was indeed just a test by his Lord; at least, that is what he thinks, but there is a creeping feeling under his skin that his thoughts are nothing but false.

This creeping suspicion is proven nothing but correct as the man returns later that evening with a savaged deer Cole knows he did not thank the Lord for. He sets it down at the kitchen table, careful not to spill its animal blood and make a mess. He does not realize, however, that he is tracking evidence of his earlier kills over Cole's floor.

With the motherly tut of his tongue, Cole pushes the man to the tub and leaves him to draw his own bath.

Dutifully to himself, he cleans up the mess the man has made.

When the man is done with his bath, he comes out of the shower dripping wet, and Cole tuts his tongue again, another mess to clean. However, he does this after allowing his eyes to drag from the top of the man's head, down his surprisingly naturally colored eyes and down the rest of his work-sculpted body, all the way down to his veiny feet.

Dutifully to his faith, Cole clothes the man, and then to himself once more, he mops up the– relatively better–pools of water, leading into the bathroom until he sees the pile of his clothes. Cole picks them up in his hands, leaving the boots, hat, and glasses, and goes outside.

Tonight, as he cooks up a stew of fresh game, he does not use his electrical stove as he usually does, but the traditional stove outside. The fire burns irregularly, and when the man comes down to see, he is only amused. The very end of a red pant leg lays unscathed outside of the fire, and the man pushes it back inside.

When Cole turns to see him, he is happy to see him devoid of gold, for it is his Lord's color, and him wearing it is pure savagery; so again, he is happy.

After feeding the man, as his faith calls, Cole heads up and nods off into a rocky sleep; as, even though he knows he is doing the right thing, he can't help but be unnerved by the presence of another.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Gold is the color of his Lord, of His riches under the very same name that He has bestowed upon mankind to be its treasure. It is the color of His sunrises and the color of His sunlight, the very same that bathes over him as Cole kneels by the window and recites the Lord's prayer.

He is aware of the man as he leans against Cole's doorway, unabashedly intruding upon his private space.

When the prayer is done, Cole starts to change into his day clothes. The cowboy tries to remain passive as he notices the man's gaze flow over his body, from the tips of his ears and the back of his hair, down the expanse of his worked back and his hairy legs.

"Good morning." Cole simply greets as he walks past him.

"Good morning." He replies.

That morning, the man graciously helps him with his chores, from cooking breakfast, sweeping and mopping the house, to hanging the clothes under the Lord's sunlight.

That afternoon, as Cole cleans his Peacemaker in the backyard shed, the man watches. Finally, he speaks.

"What brought you to faith?"

"I was born into it. For that, I am grateful."

"And you do not know a life without God?"

"I do not."

Sensing that Cole is uncomfortable with the conversation, the man switches to something else, then more topics. He carries the conversation, switching from how Cole came to be the owner of his land, the owner of his bike, and to how he became such a kind man.

He asked the final question with: give me a reason outside of faith. Cole laughed, and said he had no answer, and the man thought it sounded heavenly.

Finally, Cole opened up with his own question, then another, and another after that.

Many more laughs flowed out of the shed and the house that afternoon, until the man departed, and Cole thought, for the second time, that was done.

That thought is proven nothing but wrong as the man returns with yet another savaged animal, tonight, a wild boar. This night, however, he returns unscathed, so Cole kneels before its corpse and utters a prayer in thanks, before together they strip it for its parts and feast.

Cole feeds the man, and then after his bath for the night, he clothes him too.

Tonight's sleep is peaceful.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Before gold coats the sky, Cole rouses from his sleep at the sound of the door opening. When he walks down the stairs, he sees Him.

The man sits heavily on his couch, his head in his hands with a frown. It turns into a forced smile when he sees his host, and he apologizes. "Sorry for waking you."

Cole examines Him, from the torn seam of his pants, to the thick crimson on his face and his vest and his thighs. He does not care for his now stained couch, nor for his hand as he selflessly reaches up to wipe the blood off His cheek. "What happened?"

"Protecting. Protecting you." He says, and Cole decides to believe him.

With a motherly tut, Cole pushes the man to the tub, except this time he doesn't leave Him. Cole draws the man a bath, carefully removes his clothes, and sets him in the warm water.

Cole doesn't know what he's doing except that he's helping when he scrubs the man's tired limbs clean from the crimson stains.

"Thank you."

This time, it's nothing about manners.

"You're welcome."

He leaves the man in bed, heads to his room as the sun rises and kneels down by the window, and begins to pray. This morning, it's not just the Lord's prayer, but also one of gratitude.

The man can hear who it's for before he falls asleep.

When he wakes in the afternoon, his tired limbs carry him downstairs to Cole, who listens without complaint nor word as He explains.

There were men in the woods, He says, monstrous men wielding axes for weapons and running like madmen yet covering distance like wolves. These unholy men were stalking him, He says, would've struck the next night, this night, and taken the land for themselves.

"Please believe me," He says, "I can show you the bodies if you don't."

He seems afraid. What for? Cole has always been a believer to the Lord, and now to Him, he doesn't need proof. "Thank you. Stay, tonight. Don't go out for a hunt."

The man nods. The story had taken a lot of breath and a lot of effort. He was tired once more. Cole lays him down on the couch and prepares a good bone broth for dinner.

That night, as he stares at the man in front of him drink his soup, he wonders what it might be like to kneel before his savior, and this time he does not think of God, but of Him. He wonders what it might be like to kneel before another man.

Cole Cassidy thinks himself a man of faith, but suddenly his thoughts are not quite what God would want of him.

Men were not to lay with another before marriage, much less with other men. This wasn't what God had intended for him...but sending this stranger into his life, was it not a reward? He had saved his life, though Cole might not be entirely sure, he had faith in it, just as he had faith in God.

The man before him deserved his gratitude, just as much as his God did. He had spared his life, He had brought him food, He had helped him, He had saved his life.

He doesn't need to wonder that night what it might be like to kneel for another man.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He tells him His name the next morning, as they lay a mess of tangled limbs under his scratchy sheets. "(Y/N)."

The cowboy replies with his own, "Cole."

His name was a simple name, it wasn't the name of the devil, and His eyes weren't red. He wasn't the work of Satan, nor the devil himself, but a man, just like him; and when He would go on to wear the color of God as the day began, gold stitched in His hat and His boots and His vest, Cole was happy to see Him in it.

But for now, as the gold of the sky begins to turn to blue, Cole settles closer to the man, and he speaks gratitude against His lips.

Cole will be happy to kneel before Him for the rest of his life.

☆⋆~

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I liked writing the progression. If you didn't notice it it's: Lord became God, the change from the devil to the man, from he to He, and adjectives like maniacal to graciously. I also tried to avoid starting sentences with Cole's pronoun, to highlight how he thinks of himself as much lesser than God.

[m-jelly]

The Crow's Song - Chapter 5

Prince Levi x Witch Reader

Royal Romance with magic.

There is trouble on the border with monsters, so Levi and you go together to fight. A new creature causes issues and a surprise guest changes things.

Ao3

Part 6

Prized guards rushed around packing vital equipment for battle. Camping equipment and food supplies were loaded onto carriages, while weapons and spares were strapped to the knights' assistants. Horses stomped their hooves as they had their saddles placed on them; they just knew that something was happening. Tension hung in the area because people knew that not everyone was coming back from the mission they had been set.

All worries washed away when Prince Levi strolled through the gathering. He was tugging on his gloves to ensure they were secure, his dark blue cape fluttering behind him as he moved. He checked his god blade blessed by his own god and saw a black sparkle around it, meaning his god knew that the blade would feast on monster flesh.  

“Levi!”

He stopped in his path and turned to face you, but what you were wearing upset him. You were in light leather armour that a witch or wizard would wear in a battle. “What are you wearing?”

You jogged over to him. “My battle things.”

“You are not going to battle.”

You pouted. “Yes, I am. You need me. I can protect your knight, I can buff them and I can heal.”

He walked up to you. “You are not going.”

You huffed. “Why not?”

“Monsters are on the loose, it’s too dangerous.” He sighed and looked over at his father walking over with his mother. “Stay here with my mother.”

“It is only a few stray monsters on the border.”

Levi flicked his gaze back to you. “I have faced a lot of monsters and a few strays are incredibly deadly. Hell, even one can decimate a whole village.”

You stared at him and stood your ground. “I’m strong. I’m very strong. I have faced monsters before.”

“These are different.”

“I can handle it.”

He turned away from you. “You’re not going and that’s final.” He waved to his knights. “Make sure you load medication.” He stumbled when the ground shook. He turned to face you to see shards of earth were pointing right at him. “Tch…snuck up on me.”

“Like I said. I can handle it.”

He watched the shards go back into the ground. “Impressive, but it’s a no.”

You floated up and closer. “Why not!?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Lights sparkled around you. “Too dangerous? Are you only saying that because I’m a girl?”

“No.”

You huffed. “Then it’s because you don’t trust me because you haven’t trained me like your knights.”

“No!”

Kuchel went to move towards Levi. “I’ll tell them.”

Sebastian stopped her. “Let this happen. It’s clear she knows why.”

“What?”

Sebastian smiled. “She’s smart. She knows why Levi doesn’t want her to go. She wants Levi to admit why because it’s good for him to get it out and so they can talk about his feelings.”

You folded your arms. “Levi! Just tell me. Why won’t you let me go? You know very well how strong I am.”

Levi ruffled his hair. “You just can’t go.”

“Why?”

“You can’t.”

You shook your head. “That’s not good enough. I need to know.”

He sternly said your name. “You’re just not going.”

“Why?”

He turned and walked to his horse. “I’m leaving. I have monsters to kill.” He grunted when he was pulled back with your magic. “Let me go!”

You pulled him towards you. “Tell me why I can’t go.”

“Because I can’t lose you!” He panted and lowered his head. “I…I…I’m not…strong enough…I can’t…I can’t lose you…I need you…you’re my life.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “You won’t lose me.” You kissed him and pulled back a bit. “Levi, I’ll always be with you. Plus, if I stay here who knows what might happen.” You caressed his cheek. “If I’m with you, you can protect me.”

He tapped his forehead against your shoulder. “Mm. You’re right.”

You massaged your fingers in his hair. “Thank you for admitting the truth. Besides, I feel the same way. I can’t lose you, Levi. You’re my world and losing you would crush me. I wouldn’t be able to love anyone else if I lost you.” You kissed the side of his head. “I want to be with you to protect you.”

Levi crashed his lips against yours and kissed you over and over. “You’re coming with me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled you against him. “Father?”

Sebastian smiled at his son. “Yes?”

“You’re not coming.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Why?”

Levi squeezed you as he said your name. “She was right. I need her with me and she needs me. Mother will be alone here. She needs you and you need her. You’ll stay here with her.”

He smiled softly. “Alright.”

You giggled. “You two get a whole palace to yourselves. It’ll be romantic.”

Sebastian tackled Kuchel into a hug and made her squeal in delight. “All mine.”

Levi looked down at you. “I’m sorry we had a little fight.”

You winked at him. “It’s okay.”

“You…you knew why, didn’t you?”

“I did.” You leaned up and kissed him. “I wanted you to be honest with your feelings. I get it. It’s scary to lose someone you love so deeply, to see them go into battle and know there’s a chance they could die. However, not having them close with a chance…” You sighed. “I have my suspicions about all of this.”

Levi frowned. “What are you suspecting?”

You walked over to the horses and petted Levi’s black one. She was so beautiful and friendly. “By now, many people know about us as a couple.” You glanced at Levi. “Witches, wizards and warlocks are very powerful. They can do incredible things if they set their mind to it, even more so if they make a deal with a god or are blessed by one.”

Levi kissed your temple before whispering. “You suspect Noir?” He hummed when you nodded. “Is he truly that powerful?”

“A lot about him has changed in the time we were apart.”

He pulled you into his arms and held you. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe I had sex with him.”

Levi growled. “You what?”

You laughed at how possessive he was. “Levi, it was the past. Plus, we were a couple for a few years so, sex happens.”

Levi played with your clothes a bit as he pouted, the two of you were so in your own world that you didn’t even notice the knights and guards rushing around to get things ready. “Was he good?”

“Does it matter? He’s from the past.”

He grabbed your hips. “I want to know.”

You placed your hands on Levi’s chest. “Sometimes he was, other times it was okay. It wasn’t always romantic.” You frowned a bit. “It’s hard to explain.”

He caressed your cheek. “It was sometimes just for him.”

You nodded. “Yeah, and when I was close to breaking up with him he got…very rough and not the fun kinky kind.”

“Asshole.”

You kissed Levi. “Sex is not sex with you. With him it was just sex, with you it’s a connecting of two souls and showing love. I adore every time we’re together.”

He blushed hard. “We do it a lot…like…a lot a lot…” He whined. “I’m so hungry for you…be honest with me. Are you tired of me?”

You shook your head. “No. Not once have I gotten tired. Besides, I’m often chasing you for me.” You giggled as he blushed more and whined. “You’re so cute. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

You smirked. “So, about marriage.”

He covered your mouth with his hand. “No! No, no talk. You know I’m setting something.” He saw how you were looking at him. “You did that on purpose to lighten the mood.”

You nodded. “I did.”

“You’re so…I love you.”

“I love you too. I look forward to when you propose and what you have in mind.”

He hugged you tightly. “It’ll be very romantic.”

You giggled. “I know it.” You pulled back and looked around. “I should get my horse ready.”

Levi yanked you against him. “No. Your horse is…uh…resting.”

“Levi?”

He lifted you and sat you on his horse. “You’re riding with me.” He climbed up and hugged you from behind. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You hummed a laugh. “My horse is fine, isn’t she? You just wanted me to ride with you.”

“I enjoy holding you.”

You patted his hand. “I enjoy being held by you.”

He kissed the side of your head. “Rest when you need to. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you.”

He tapped his heels on his horse. “Mother? Father? Take care. We’ll be back in a few weeks. We’ll ensure the border is safe.”

Sebastian smiled. “May our God bless you on your journey. Be proud of your new-found powers.”

“I will.”

Kuchel smiled softly. “We love you, both of you. Please, be safe.”

Levi squeezed you. “Promise.”

You waved to them. “We’ll be home soon.”

Levi and you raced off to the front of the unit. “Knights! Ride out!”

Something made you stir and it was nibbling at your senses. All of you had arrived at your camping spot yesterday at midday, but the area was so shrouded in darkness that you could barely tell. It’d taken almost a week to get to this spot and now you were here, your natural magical senses were slightly on edge. This place wasn’t right. So, you were struggling to rest.

You rose from the cot and noticed Levi sleeping so soundly next to you. You ruffled your messy bed hair as your body slowly woke up and tuned into the world around you. You climbed out of bed and wrapped a robe around you to cover up your flowing bed dress.

It was quiet, too quiet and that disturbed you. Not a single sound came from the forest you were sleeping in. You had slept in so many when you were a journeying witch, but this forest seemed sick or maybe it had ill intentions towards any who entered.

Normally, you wouldn’t go walking around barefoot in a forest you didn’t know, but you needed to feel the earth so you could sense the world. As you moved out of the tent and into the surrounding thick forest you didn’t feel the natural flow of energy. No birds were singing, or slight noises from animals. The only sound was a light breeze rushing through the trees and rustling the leaves.

You hugged your gown around you tightly, it wasn’t the cold that made you do this but a strange uncomfortable feeling. The snap of a twig made you twist your body quickly to look in the direction it came from. Your heart raced as you felt on edge. You could sense things coming up to you, but you couldn’t sense whatever this was. Something was sneaking up on you and you couldn’t sense it.

You sent out little sparkles of light so you could look at the surrounding area, but the trees were so close and looked the same, the canopy was so thick that it was just too dark. You were in open space but you felt like you could barely breathe. You gulped hard as you stared at the space where the twig had broken. While staring you used your magic to form a blade in your hand.

The wind rushing through the trees stopped, everything became still and only the loud beating of your heart could be heard. You gripped the handle of your blade tightly.

Now.

You listened to your instincts. Your body twisted and your blade thrust forward right into a tall sickly thin white being. Its mouth dripped with black ooze as its six yellow eyes vibrated out of pain. It pulled back and dropped to the floor clutching at the wound with its long spindly fingers. Its legs and arms twitched as it shifted and scurried. Everything about it was so wrong, so sickeningly thin. The elbows and knees of this thing pointed out and threatened to rupture out of the thinly stretched skin.

You flew back with your magic and created a protective bubble around you. You’d never seen anything like this beast before. You’d face a lot of monsters in the past, but this thing was different. The only thing that could stop this being was your lighter magic, any other kind probably wouldn’t work or very dark magic like Levi’s. You readied yourself, but the thing took one look at you and scurried backwards into the bushes.

You stood your ground. This thing wouldn’t give up that easily, it was too good to be true if it did. Your eyes darted around as you watched the bushes move and the trees sway, it was fast and you knew it was going to attack you from behind again. You turned around to face it but a burst of crows attacked it causing it to roll around and scream.

Levi burst through the shadows with his dark sword raised. With a beautiful swift movement, he cut the being’s head clean off. “Tch, foul thing.”

You lowered your bubble and moved closer to your lover. “Levi.”

He eyed the dead creature. “Tch, the fuck is this thing?”

“You’ve never faced one before?”

“No…I could just about sense it.”

You whined. “I couldn’t when I faced it, but while I slept I could. Possibly a nightmare being?”

Levi turned to you and saw what you were wearing. “You faced it in your sleepwear?”

You hugged yourself. “I just…I’m sorry.”

Levi walked up to you and looked down at you. “My little witch…you really are that powerful, huh?” He yanked you into his arms and held you tightly. “I was so worried when I woke up without you there, but then I felt your power and knew you needed me.” He pulled back a bit and kissed you. “You did amazing. Well done.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get back to bed.” He pulled you towards the base. “This base is protected by your magic and mine. We must stay within the circle.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yes.”

He led you to another tent and sighed. “We must report what we fought. My knights need to prepare.” He pulled back the door to see Mike lounging in a chair with a book in hand. “Mike?”

Mike glanced over. “Hello future King and Queen. What seems to be the problem?”

“You need to see something.”

Mike pulled on some light armour and let you and Levi lead him to the body of the monster. “Hm.” He crouched and sniffed the area. “I have its scent…” He inhaled deeply before shooting to his feet with eyes wide. “Hm, we’re surrounded. A lot of them watching us. We should leave this dead one and return to our safe zone. Now.”

Levi scooped you up making you squeak. “Let’s act natural.”

Both men moved cautiously through the woods, to a normal eye they looked fine but you could see they were on edge and ready to kill. Once they were through the barrier and safe they relaxed. They paused for a moment and gazed out into the forest as the breeze picked up again, it was like Mother Nature was saying that the land was now safe for everyone.

Mike ruffled his hair. “They’re gone, but those things…I’m impressed you both killed it.”

Levi squeezed you. “This one wounded it and sensed it. It seems to fear her power.”

You nodded. “It’s because I use light blessings and spells. It seems to be made of nightmares.”

“I use magic that’s dark, so how did I manage to kill it?”

You nibbled your lip. “Well, your god for your royal family is powered by the moon. When the night is dark and long the moon guides your way. Those things hide in the dark but you are the light that shows them. They fear that.”

Levi smiled. “I’m glad I’m strong against them.” He lifted his head. “The issue is how are my knights going to stop them?”

You hummed in thought. “How many are there Mike?”

Mike looked out at the forest. “There was a couple of them, but they seemed strong.”

“They are and fast.”

“What’s your idea?”

You slipped out of Levi’s arms making him pout. “Well, we’ve never seen a monster like this before. I’m wondering if they come from a main source and if we destroy that, perhaps they will die out.”

Mike considered your idea. “Makes sense…but how would we get to the source? They’re dangerous.”

You released a long sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe Levi and I can combine our magic to create a bubble around us, or we can use it to hide our presence.”

Levi caressed your cheek. “We’ll start practising right away.” He looked over at Mike. “There’s still the issue of the other monsters.”

Mike smirked. “Don’t worry, Jean will lead the charge with the others against them. We’ll focus on those pesky pales.”

You yawned a little before humming. “I’m going back to our tent. I need to wash, change and rest.” You waved to both men. “See you in a bit, Levi.”

Levi watched you. “I’ll be there soon.” He waited a moment before speaking to Mike. “I’m concerned.”

Mike folded his arms. “Because she’s your lover or is the concern battler related?”

“Battle related.” He pulled his eyes from you and looked at Mike. “She couldn’t sense it until the last minute. She can sense anything. These things…I’m concerned for my knights.”

Mike hummed. “I understand. I’m lucky I have a god’s blessing with my sense of smell.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This could be difficult. Maybe we could keep those things focused on use three giving the knights a chance with the other monsters.”

“It’s the best thing to do.”

“The crown is very heavy, huh?”

Levi sighed. “You have no idea.”

Mike nodded his head to Levi’s tent. “You should get back to your lover. We need to rest. Tomorrow we’ll think things over.”

“You’re right. Sleep well.” Levi patted Mike’s upper arm before walking back to his tent. He blushed as his heart raced seeing you washing up with barely anything on. “Oh…”

You smiled at Levi. “Hello.”

“Do you need help?”

You smirked. “Are you asking if I need help washing myself?”

He moved closer. “Yes.”

You took a seat and handed him the wet cloth. “Here you go.”

He started rubbing you down and made sure he was gentle with his touch. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, worried, slightly scared and yet I feel slight confidence.”

He leaned towards you and gently kissed you. “I understand.”

You welled up a moment before turning your head away. “Forgive me.” You sniffed back tears. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Levi put the cloth in the water before kneeling in front of you. “Love? It’s okay. It’ll be okay. We can do this together.” He wiped your tears away. “It’s also okay to cry. I’m scared and worried too.”

You wrapped your arms around Levi and you cried. “Mm.”

He rubbed your back. “I’m right here. I’ll never leave you.”

You gripped at his shirt on his back. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too. I love you so much.” He pulled back a bit and kissed you. “You’re mine.”

You ran your hands down his chest as you lightly panted. “Levi?”

He smiled at you. “I know that look in your eyes.”

You tugged at his shirt. “I can see the same look in your eyes.”

He lifted you and carried you to the bed. “We’ll need to be quiet.”

“I’ll try my best.” You giggled as Levi smirked and started nipping at your skin.

“Your Highness!”

Levi stirred at the voice of one of his knights outside his tent. “Tch.”

He looked over at you to see you were sleeping soundly with lovebites all over you. For days now all had been going out and killing monsters, but when returning to camp the three of you would talk about how to attack the pale ones. Once it was time for bed, Levi and you would make love to each other so you could remember the love you shared.

He slipped out of bed and pulled on his bottoms as he made his way over to the front. He pushed the tent door open and gazed at Connie. “Something wrong?”

Connie bowed his head. “Good morning, I am sorry I disturbed you. We have a visitor.”

Levi frowned. “Out here?”

“Yes.”

He stared at Connie. “Well? Who is it?”

Connie blushed. “S-Sorry. I ah…”

Levi looked behind him to see you were walking around in a rather thin long nightdress. “Speak now Connie before I blind you.”

“Vance Noir.”

Levi frowned at the name and whipped his head around to look at the knight. “He’s here?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “He just arrived.”

Levi hummed in thought. “Well, this is all on the border…I’ll meet with him. Tell him I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Levi closed the door of the tent and turned to you. “Connie saw you like that.”

You ruffled your hair as you giggled. “Lucky lad.” You sauntered over to your lover and slung your arms over his shoulders. “But you get to see me up close and without it too.”

He growled in delight. “You’re damn right I do.”

You kissed him before releasing him. “I’ll get changed. We have more monsters to kill.”

“We also have someone to meet, but I think it’d be best if I went alone.”

You paused while changing. “Someone to meet?”

Levi started pulling on his armour. “Vance Noir is here.”

You flinched at that information. “Why…why would he be…hmm…”

“Love?”

You carried on changing. “I have a lot of thoughts.”

He put on the last of his gear and then began assisting you. “Care to share?”

“I think he knew I was here.” You smiled at Levi as he tied a part together. “Thank you. Anyway, I believe if I stayed at the palace he would have gone there. So, I’m glad I came with you.”

“I’m glad too. I can protect you here.”

You kissed him. “And I can protect you.”

“Cute.” He chuckled. “Come on.”

You held his hand as you walked with him. “You look so handsome in your prince armour. I adore the cape.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed your hand. “Your witch armour is very cute.”

“Thank you.” The smile you had for Levi slowly faded when you saw Vance Noir in his black and off-gold armour with a long purple cape. “Mm.”

Levi heard your whine and saw how gloomy you’d become. “Stay close to me, okay? Enjoy my energy.”

You smiled at Levi. “I will.” You squeezed his hand. “I appreciate that.”

Vance smiled at the knight before turning his gaze and admiring you. He softly said your name as he approached both you and Levi. “Look at you. You’re so cute in your armour.”

Levi stepped forward and blocked Vance’s view of you a little. “May I ask your reason for being here?”

Vance slowly dragged his eyes from you and looked at Levi for the first time since arriving. “There are monsters on the border. My King Rowen was concerned. So, I was sent to stop them. We can’t have you taking all the glory now, can we?”

“Is this what it’s all about? Who looks better in front of our people?”

“Glory looks good on me.” He tilted his head to look at you. “She likes a strong lover.”

Before Levi could snap at him you floated up and wrapped your arms around Levi’s neck from behind. You kissed the side of Levi’s head. “That’s right. I adore strong lovers and this one is the best so far. You can’t compete, Vance.” You smiled against Levi’s head. “I mean, this handsome man killed a new kind of monster, one that is pale with six yellow eyes. A creature born from a nightmare was no match for him.”

Levi knew exactly what you were doing, you were spurring Vance on to kill as many monsters as possible. If he was the cause of the new ones this type of teasing and pushing of buttons would make Vance stop the pales. Levi was going to go with your plan, it was smart and it would mean it’d be an easier fight against those things.

“Pales, hmm?” Vance smiled. “I could take care of these new things you speak of.”

You massaged your fingers in Levi’s hair. “Hmm, interesting declaration.”

“I’ll prove it.” He held his head high. “I’ll come back here with the head of one.”

“Mm, don’t believe you. It would impress me if you did kill one.” You nipped the top of Levi’s ear. “We have some monsters to kill together.” You released Levi. “Come on, Levi.”

Vance clenched his jaw. “You’re very cosy with him.”

You yanked Levi against him. “Of course, we’re lovers.”

Levi leaned down and kissed your cheek. “We’ll be more than that soon.”

“We will.” You held Levi’s hand. “Let’s go.”

He walked with you and left Vance far behind. Levi lifted your hand before showering it with kisses. “You did wonderful.”

“Thanks.” You sighed. “I didn’t think he would take the bait, but he did.”

Levi released your hand. “Well, that’s because he has a massive ego and he wants a chance to have you as his and his alone.”

You walked through the barrier and moved with Levi to the battleground where only a few monsters remained, the fight was over and just the stragglers needed to be stopped. “I don’t think we need to help.”

Levi watched Mikasa rip a monster to pieces while Sasha and Jean worked together to bring another down. “It’s all under control. We’re cleaning up now.”

You admired the land, the mountains towered over the area in the distance with a light dusting of snow. Flowers had taken over a field and added some sort of hope to the blood-soaked patch of earth you were standing on. It was clear to you that this was started by someone with magic because the spot for the monsters was too convenient. You knew the next step was to take care of the pale things, but hopefully, Vance was going to fall for your suggestion and take care of the problem he caused.

Levi called your name making you turn to face him. “I uh.”

You gazed at him. “Hmm?”

Levi put his hand in his pocket before presenting you with a ring. “I love you more than anything. I want to spend our long lives together. Marry me.” He softly said your name. “Please, marry me.”

You welled up. “Yes.” You smiled brightly. “Yes, I will marry you.”

He slipped the ring on your finger before kissing you passionately. “I know it’s not romantic, but fighting together like this…it’s us.”

You hugged Levi tightly. “It is us. It’s perfect. I love you and I can’t wait to call you my husband.”

Levi growled a little. “I like that. You’ll be my cute little witch wife.”

“Yes, I will.”

[1-800-deactivatednearu]

[i.d.: spy and soldier as drag kings. spy sits with his legs wide, wearing a peacock coloured cropped blazer with coattails and magenta cuff links. the lining of his coat matches the cuff links in a magenta to orange ombre gradient. he wears an ascot the same colour. he wears a black leather underbust corset and gloves. his pants are shiny and dark blue, his hat a similar dark blue with a magenta ribbon and a peacock feather. his balaclava is blue. wrapped around one hand is a leash, to which soldier is collared to. solder stands behind him, a leg propped up behind spy. soldier wears a camo hat and pants, his thumbs tucked into the belt loops. his boots are leather, and he wears a harness with attached shoulder pads. both of them are smoking. /end i.d.]

the only reason why soldier has top surgery is because i think he would say he lost his nipples in the war and everyone would believe him without question, including himself. especially himself.

the thought process here is honestly that both characters are performing masculinity so hard. soldier with his god bless america oorah and spy with his james bond schtick, so naturally. naturally?

soldier goes by daddy sam (as opposed to uncle sam) and spy goes by bondage. james bondage.

woop that is this drawing finally posted after months

(he/him pronouns for daddy sam and james bondage please!)

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! <This is Part 21!>

A/N: Next part is up, as a small reminder if you are interested in a physical edition of the waking up in pjo series (like an actual book written in short story format just like the waking up in twilight book) our soft interest check is located here, and I'll be launching the hard interest check officially in the new year.

* Your finger taps against the cheap linoleum table.

* ‘I’m in a lot of shit.’

* The problems just keep stacking up, one after the other.

* The lost dog got you out to Colorado, but there are no more open tickets on trains or busses from here—it’s peak season and everyone seems to be moving in or out of the city.

* You’re not sixteen yet so you can’t rent a car, and the solstice is growing closer with every minute.

* So now you’re sitting in a shitty diner, in a shitty town, trying to find some way to shitty California so Percy can meet his degenerate Dad.

Not to mention that this asshole has to be here—you wrinkle your nose as another wave of violent emotion wafts over you

* ‘Can’t he keep it in his pants for ten minutes?’

* Ares grins back at you.

* He looks a lot like his mother, and a little like Maki. You catch pieces of Clarisse in him too. The shape of his nose, the curve of his lip.

* A yellow aura radiates off of him, perfect blond curls pressed against his head, and a bright red flush over the bridge of his nose.

* If he wasn’t being such an asshole tormenting Percy you’d say he was handsome.

* He gives you a wolfish grin, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his leather jacket wrinkling as he leans forward.

* “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

* Annabeth flinches, Percy glowers, Grover looks like he wants to disappear, you only raise an eyebrow.

* “And why would that be?”

* Ares snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Humble like your old Underworld Daddy, huh?”

* You’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed with him right now. The children look beside themselves with horror. Ares doesn’t seem to care, using a steak knife to clean his fingers. “You’re all anyone can talk about these days.” He whistles.

* “What about him?” You nod to Percy, who seems about a second from punching him in the face.

* Ares rolls his eyes.

*“Poseidon having a kid? That’s old news, old seaweeds notorious for getting caught up in the moment—everyone knows about his and Amphitrite's agreement.”

*‘Oh my god, Percy’s dad is a swinger.’

*“But Hades having a kid?” You catch a glimmer of Ares' eyes widening from behind his glasses. “That’s interesting.”

*‘Well, he’s not really my Dad.’

*But his fascination with you is starting to make sense. Hades is hopelessly devoted to Persephone, you’re fairly certain he’s never even glanced at someone in a romantic light after devoting himself to her.

*“What’s even more interesting is how they’ve all curled around you, protecting you from the others.” For the first time, you feel a shiver trail down your spine, teeth clenched hard to suppress the natural movement. Even though you can’t see them, you can feel Ares's eyes trained on you, studying every action you make.

*‘He’s suspicious.’

*Persephone did say he’s surprisingly astute for someone who acts like a moron.

*“Not to mention half of the Olympians have given you blessings.”

*That catches you off guard.

*“What?”

*You can feel him keen at your surprise.

*“It’s right there,” he nods towards your jacket-covered sleeve. As if they can only be ignited by a divine voice, the symbols glow.

*“There’s Makaira,” he says pointing to a pale yellow mark of a bird. “Melinoe,” a somber grey mark of a stone. “Hades,” Black with three skulls. “Persephone,” a bright pink peony. “Zagreus,” this one is said with a raised eyebrow at the red sword burned into your skin. “Circe,” an orange bay leaf. “Hecate—nice.” He remarks at the green crescent moon in your skin. “Dionysus,” This is punctuated by a soft smile, the purple strawberries glow under his gaze. “Hera.” The bright yellow dove on the back of your hand.

*Ares eyes squint like he sees something else, something he can’t quite make out. But he says nothing. Only mutters a soft: “That’s weird.”

*Noticing the weakness he’s shown, he grins again.

*‘So that’s the face he uses to hide his real feelings.’

*“Want to add another? I wouldn’t mind giving you a bit of wrath.” His hand glows with an ombré of yellow to red. Your hand instinctively goes to hold Percy back when he rises to smack some sense into the incorrigible god.

*“How about you stop tormenting my friend and tell me what the fuck it is you want.”

*The use of the swear has Grover’s fork clattering to the floor.

*‘It’s rude but at least one of these crappy blessings should protect me right?’

*Ares doesn’t seem to mind, his grin only widening, hands held up in truce, Percy relaxes next to you.

*“I need a simple favor from you.”

*You very much doubt anything that comes from this man’s mouth is going to be simple in the least.

*“I was on a date and—”

*“Oh my god you were harassing Aphrodite again weren’t you?”

*He grows flustered.

*“W-what no—”

*“Yes, you were.” You respond. “Makaria and Melinoe told me all about it, how last month she was having a quiet dinner with her family and you showed up drunk on her lawn slurring love ballads.” Percy actually muffled a snort at that, and Annabeth has to feign excessive interest in the window.

*Ares flushes red in embarrassment.

*“L-look do you want a ride to the west or not?!”

*You do need a ride out of town.

*‘But I’m starting to think it’s not a coincidence all modes of transportation for us are blocked.’

*“So what is it you need?” You ask leaning back in your chair.

*“I left my shield at the old abandoned water park, if you get it for me I’ll get you a ride to the west.”

*You lean back in your chair, he wants something from this—more than just getting a glance at a few demi-gods or his shield.

*‘Which means I can get a little more out of this.’

*“You get us a ride out west and you give Clarisse and her mom a call.”

*He’s baffled by the request, as are the other three children.

*Despite his confusion, he nods.

*“I can do that.”

*“Then we have a deal.”

*There’s a moment of awkward silence, the only sound of Grover half-slurping, half-chewing his plastic straw.

*“A-alright, I have an appointment, it was nice meeting you.” He gives you a slight bow before getting on his motorcycle and ripping his engine into the highway.

*“He’s nicer than I thought he would be.” You say biting one if Percy’s fries.

***

*People should really be more wary of a gaggle of children walking around a city unaccompanied

*Especially when they’re peeking over a wooden fence, eyes swinging right to left as they survey an old water park

*“I think the coast is clear,” Annabeth says.

*“I don’t hear anything.” Grover adds, his ears twitching.

*Your mouth opens, the words: “Let’s wait a few minutes to be sure.” Dancing on the tip of your tongue when Percy jumps the fence.

*The three of you look at him with dumbstruck expression, Annabeth smacks her forehead.

*“What? We were going to do it sooner or later anyway.”

*There’s something haunting about an abandoned water park, rides teaming with algae, inner tubes half inflated still rotating on a lazy River—it’s unsettling.

*What’s even more unsettling are Annabeth’s twinkling eyes when she spots an unlocked gift shop.

*“We can’t just take this stuff Annabeth!” Percy, ever the morally upright young man, says.

*“Watch me.” She hisses back, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

*“Hell yeah! We’re finally doing something fun, hey Annie let’s insight a riot on Main Street so we can loot there too!”

*“Oh man, not you too!” Percy groans. He looks hurt when Grover moved to join you both in your ransacking.

*“If you can’t beat em,” Grover shrugs.

*And that’s how the four of you ended up walking around an abandoned water park looking like ghosts of their catalog models.

*“It’s probably in there.” Grover nods to the Tunnel of Love, it’s one of the few rides they bothered to drain and turn off.

*‘That or Ares drained it himself.’

*Your staff glows in your hand.

*‘What kind of trick is this.’

*Annabeth and Percy race in front of you.

*“Not you too Annie!”

*“I just want to get out of this place! It gives me the creeps!” She calls back.

*That’s not exactly what you want to hear from a twelve-year-old child of Athena

*“Kids, am I right?” Grover says with a sheepish grin from beside you.

*You sigh.

*‘At least one of them has got more than one brain cell.’

*“Tell me about it.”

*You walk to the end of the tunnel, studying the walls and miscellaneous graffiti.

*“So what’s the deal with Aphrodite and Ares?”

*You scoff.

*“It’s just the usual thing, a woman finally figured out they deserve better and the degenerate they left behind thinks otherwise.” Grover looks at you with a puzzled expression,

*“I…I always heard the affair was reciprocated.”

*You scoff again.

*‘Ares would like people to think that.’

*“She woke up one day, all of her kids grown and independent, and realized the only child she was taking care of was her partner and that she’d spent most of her life taking care of other people—”

*Melinoe had a very inquisitive expression when she told you this, like it pained her too, like she was the one who lived through it.

*“—so she left him and married someone who would take care of her. And Ares is still pissed about it I guess because he keeps doing crap like this to win her back.”

*It’s almost abusive when you think about it.

*Grover is silent for a long while.

*“Why don’t people ever talk about this?”

*Your mouth stretches into a fine line.

*“Because maybe it’s easier to avert your eyes sometimes.”

*You don’t hold it against them, Ares is a powerful god, and while Aphrodite is coveted—she doesn’t hold much power on her own.

*‘It’s not easy to call out Zeus’ son for his poor behavior.’

*You both stop when you reach the end of the ride, a dome shaped enclave, gilded with mirrors.

*You and Percy share identical sneers

*‘That jerk really thought Aphrodite would want to meet up somewhere she could stare at herself…did he ever love her?’

*“Let’s go and get it, come on Annabeth—”

*“I’m not going in the Tunnel of Love with you.” She looks completely embarrassed at the notion.

*‘She is only 12 years old after all, it’s natural for her to be embarrassed.’

*“Let’s wait a minute.”

*You can’t just charge into a situation, you have to think things through.

*“So here’s the plan—” you’re positive old shitty blush has an ulterior motive it can’t be this easy to grab a shield. You look to the children, seeing a dash outline where Percy should be. “Where’s P—”

*A click echoed through the chamber.

*Percy’s standing in the middle of the empty pool, a massive silver shield in his hand.

*When he catches your gaze he gives a sheepish shrug.

*“I figured if we were going to die, we might as well die soon.”

*‘Hades, what are these kids watching to get such a negative outlook on life?’

*You’re about to open your mouth to tell him as much when you hear a rumble.

*“Shit.”

*It’s Annabeth’s idea to get on the shield, Grover’s legs that kick away water from you, and Percy’s total concentration on his blooming powers and Annabeth’s tact that keeps you from smashing into rock and riding the tide out the entrance.

*And even though the Cupid statues record you, completely drenched and a little humiliated, next to a sputtering Annabeth, a hyperventilating Grover, and a adrenaline overload Percy breathing fast—you grin.

*‘At least it’s never boring.’

*You point into the camera, still grinning.

*“You owe us.”

*Percy pops out from behind you, waving.

*“Yeah, shows over!”

*You grin.

*‘It’s good to have friends.’

A/N: As a small reminder if you are interested in a physical edition of the waking up in pjo series (like an actual book written in short story format just like the waking up in twilight book) our soft interest check is located here, and I'll be launching the hard interest check officially in the new year.

*Tag List closed, looks like I’ve reached the max!*

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