#skills masterlist
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The Hayden Young Project - Skill Variations, PM1
Unlike the personality variations, Hayden's skills are additions rather than an integral part of the story. This means that if you chose a particular skill, there is often no specific variation if you don't have it - the scene just goes on without any reference to said skill. Wherever there are significant variations as a result of the lack of a particular skill, I will add the same to the post on that scene.
I will be following the same pattern for PM2 that I followed for Book 1 - two skills in a playthrough each - in a separate masterlist.
The Haydens I have used for these playthroughs:
Asian m!Hayden - Champion - Animal Lover and Masseuse
White m!Hayden - Artist - Polyglot and Musician
Animal Lover
Chapter 2: A Cute Puppy
Chapter 4: Introducing Dipper! | Small Town Vibe | Three-Legged-Race | Salted Caramel Donuts | "Dipper's My Dog Now"
Chapter 5: Clues
Chapter 6: Sad Dipper | Nadia Hugs Dipper | Personal Space | At Sloane and Hayden's Home
Chapter 7: Baby Shower Shenanigans
Chapter 8: A Worried Dipper | Dipper Misses Hayden
Chapter 10: "You Brought The Dog?" | A Real Dog | No Pee on the Carpet | Hayden's Love for Dipper | Hayden and Dipper | Free Soon | "Go, Fly, Be Free" | Dipper Barks at Cecile | Take Off
Chapter 11: Being with Nadia | The Safe House | Suspecting Alana | Being with Hayden | Hayden Collapses
Chapter 12: A Van Named Baby | Dipper's Game Face | In the Club | Hayden's Back! | In the Helicopter/Van
Chapter 13: Stray Crumbs | Dinner | Going to Sloane's Room | Robot Dog? | Something Suspicious | Trapped
Chapter 14: The Dog Loving Guard | Kibble | Sloane (and Dipper) Escape
Chapter 15: Reuniting with Sloane (and Dipper) | Onward We Go | Team Work Makes The Dream Work | Finding Hayden
Chapter 16: Attack! | A Touching Reunion (ft. Dames) | "She Listens to Me"
Massage
Chapter 2: At the Boat/Abandoned Warehouse
Chapter 5: At the Hospital
Chapter 6: Stress Relief
Chapter 7: At the MC's Flat
Chapter 11: At the Berlin Safe House
Chapter 14: At the Fake Bedroom (ft. Harley)
Chapter 16: At Pont Alexandre III, Paris
Musician
Chapter 2: 1909 Tamlin Grand!
Chapter 4: Guitar at Cedar Falls
Chapter 6: Singing at the Opera
Chapter 7: Guitar at Sloane and Hayden's Home
Chapter 11: Piano at the Berlin Safe House
Chapter 13: Piano in the Train Car
Chapter 14: Noise
Polyglot
Chapter 2: A Secret, Special Dessert (Mandarin Chinese)
Chapter 3: Hayden Meets Damien (Spanish)
Chapter 6: La Boheme (Italian)
Chapter 10: Passport Control (German)
Chapter 11: Potatoes (German)
Chapter 13: Medovik (Russian)
Chapter 16: Welcome to Paris (French)
Helicopter Piloting
Chapter 12: Flying a 'Copter | Nadia's Storytelling | Copter Conversations 1 | Copter Conversations 2 | Copter Conversations 3
Chapter 16: Arctic HQ Helicopter
#hayden young#perfect match#the hayden young project#skills#hayden young skills#skills masterlist#hayden young: skills masterlist#skill: animal lover#skill: masseuse#skill: polyglot#skill: musician
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Transferrable Skills Masterlist
It's very reasonable to be a bit panicky when you're taken hostage at work. In fact, you're handling it very well, all things considered. Luckily, someone has come to rescue you! (The fact that you know him in a very specific context is a sensible thing to be thrown off by.)
Series Content Warnings:
F!Reader (she/they), cannon typical violence, Kink and BDSM themes, hostage situations, high anxiety/panic, unplanned intersections of kink and non-kink identities, power-exchange, sexual content including manual, oral, vaginal sex
Note: Contains no instances of what the author considers humiliation, degradation, or punishment, but please use your discretion.
Read on AO3
Part 1
Part 2 - Mi-i-zori's Amazing Fanart!
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Main Masterlist
#transferrable skills#kink fics#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction#manic pixie dream ghost#dragonnarrativewrites masterlists
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â
â. ŕżŕż jujutsu kaisen masterlist



đŚ đ¨ đ đ¨ đĽ đ¨ đ đ đ§ đ˘
SERIES
5 DAYS â tattoo shop!au, coworkers/friends to lovers. âł You have five days to ask your hot tattooed boss out. Better make it count.
MONDAY â TUESDAY â WEDNESDAY â THURSDAY â FRIDAY
STANDALONES
THORNS â hanahaki!au, angst. âł You knew you were doomed since he first smiled at you.
9:23AM â husband!suguru, domestic fluff, (nsfw?).
halloween hcs â What he likes to do the most (with you) on halloween. ft. satoru, choso.
THE ART OF (NOT) PULLING YOUR BEST FRIEND â best friend!to lovers, modern AU, best friends gojo & geto, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drama, love confessions, multiple choices standalone. âł You've always been good at hiding your feelings for your best friend, but when Satoru finally manages to land a date with the girl of his dreams, something seems to shift inside you. But don't worry, you have another best friend there who's more than willing to care for you.
This is the beginning of the story. What ending will you choose?



đŚ đ đ§ đ˘ đĽ đ¨ đ đ˘ đ đ˘
STANDALONES
halloween hcs â What he likes to do the most (with you) on halloween. ft. suguru, choso.
THE ART OF (NOT) PULLING YOUR BEST FRIEND â best friend!to lovers, modern AU, best friends gojo & geto, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drama, love confessions, multiple choices standalone. âł You've always been good at hiding your feelings for your best friend, but when Satoru finally manages to land a date with the girl of his dreams, something seems to shift inside you. But don't worry, you have another best friend there who's more than willing to care for you.
This is the beginning of the story. What ending will you choose?



đ đ đ˘ đŚ đ˘ đ đ đ đ˘
STANDALONES
halloween hcs â What he likes to do the most (with you) on halloween. ft. suguru, satoru.

you can find my wips here <3
#jjk masterlist#i have zero organizational skills so this is messy but it'll do for now#dividers by cafekitsune!!
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Your Face Card Neva Declines My GAWD!
-BeyoncĂŠ, HEATED
click!
Welcome Human, To My Blog. Enjoy Your Stay and Stay Pimpin
Swipe or Tap To Open a App!
PoetryđŚ 18+đ PreviewsđĽ Storytimeđ
Offloaded apps.
Sheinđ
Masterlist is subject to change ŠDaBratChronicles
#intro post#welcome to my blog#enjoy your stay#masterlist#my tags here~~~~~>#bratz be blabbin#bratz is serious#black women tingz#mother maraj words of wisdom#poem of the mad black women#bratz be writing#bratz got tagged!#bratz is sad!#bratz five star reviews!#bratz got skills!#bratz feels loved#bratz be reading#bratz kool kloset#bratz be watching#bratz is under construction#bratz is loving#baby bratzâs confessionals!#bratz is feening#bratz is updating!#bratz be dreamingđ§đ˝#bratz be reacting#told by bratz#bratz got a ask!#dabratzchronicles
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Elijah with his youngest siblings:
TVD masterlist
#the vampire diaries#vampire diaries#elijah mikaelson#kassandra mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson#kol mikaelson#he forgot about klaus#finn is in the shade drinking a mimosa#freya is catching butterflies#tvd masterlist#my fanfiction#my original characters#tvd oc#enjoy my poor editing skills
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thinking about making a december masterlist but i need ideas. dm/comment some festive type prompt ideas or characters and ill try to squeeze them in.
#defrosting my writing skills#underrated characters save lives#masterlist#pls help#x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#tokyo rev#bllk#jjk#what else do people watch#writing prompt#december writing prompt#writing challenge
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Necessity of physical education for a healthy life Role of physical education in physical development Role of physical education in mental development Explain the necessity of physical education Essay on necessity of physical education Aims and objectives of physical education What are the objectives of physical education Importance and necessity of physical education Page navigation
#physical health#physical media#physical disability#physical art#physical nonhuman#matter#change#skill#energy#tools#navigation#rules#masterpost#blog rules#guidelines#masterlist
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choso doesnât process jealousy like a normal person. thereâs no sulking, no glaring. just a quiet, almost helpful approach to the problem, like correcting a clerical error.
if someoneâs flirting with you, he doesnât get mad or pull you closer. he blinks, obviously puzzled, and says, âyouâre confused. sheâs mine.â not in a threatening way. more like how youâd correct a child insisting that the sky is green.
if the offender doesnât immediately back off, he doesnât argue. he just stands there with the energy of an immovable object waiting for a force to give up. and if they still donât get it, he leans in slightly, brows furrowed like heâs concerned for their cognitive skills, and asks, âare you stupid?â
masterlist
#i love him so bad#⯠writing#⯠hcs#choso#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso jjk#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen choso#kamo choso#choso kamo#jjk choso#choso kamo x reader#choso x reader#choso fluff#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fluff#choso kamo fluff#kamo choso fluff
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The Hayden Young Project - Skill Variations, PM2
Skill Variations for Book 1 | The Hayden Young Project
We now move on to Book 2, to see how the four major skills play out, and how they are applied in different scenes. Once compilations have been done, I will calculate how often they have been used across the series.
It will undoubtedly be less than the number of personality variations, and those are an intergral, default part of Hayden's character, whereas the skills are just nice perks that can prove to be either useful or entertaining (or both!) depending on the context.
For most of this list, I will be using Brier (Asian m!Hayden, Champion) for Animal Lover and Massage skills, and Cedar (White m!Hayden, Artist) for Music and Language skills. I will fill the lists as and when I get the appropriate screenshots.
Animal Lover
Chapter 1: Tea for Sloane | Nadia the Artist | A Beacon for Customers!
Chapter 2: Magnificent Fluffy Noodle Poof | Dipper Comforts Dames | Worry
Chapter 3: Holding the Tokyo Fort
Chapter 4: Damien Returns | "Even the Dog Agrees" | Lost in Thought
Chapter 6: Dipper Meets the Mousavis | Sleepover | Petal Pet | Meeting UWU | The Dipper-UWU Friendship
Chapter 7: Hayden's Return | Hamza and the Pets | Goodbye, Nadia
Chapter 9: Is Hayden Okay? | Beach! Beach! Beach! | Starting a Sandstorm | To the Cave | Sloane Loves Dogs
Chapters 10: Hello, Nadia! | Staying in LA
Chapter 11: Dipper Wishes the MC Luck | A Slobbery Kiss
Chapter 12: Big Fuzzy Baby
Chapter 13: Welcome to DC | Comfort Dog | Favourite People (and Dog) | Visiting Kim Washington | Heading Out | Belly Rubs
Chapter 14: Squad Name | Animal Planet
Chapter 15: Hayden Moves Out | Co-Parenting Dipper | Bye Bye Hayden (and Dipper) | The Best and Cutest Pupper!
Bonus: Easter Eggbot
Massage
Chapter 1: At the Pair Air, Paris
Chapter 4: Kotenage
Chapter 9: Victory Massage
Chapter 11: Pre-Show Nerves
Chapter 12: Masseuse Magic
Chapter 15: "Don't Fall Asleep on Me Now"
Musician
Chapter 1: Street Music
Chapter 9: Song Requests
Chapter 13: The Great Organ
Chapter 15: Auditioning for Musicals
Polyglot
Chapter 1: No Time for Photoshoots (French) | Background Noise (Japanese)
Chapter 9: Bargaining (Bahasa Indonesia)
Chapter 15: The Greatest Project of All (French)
Helicopter Piloting
Chapter 15: Thank You
All
Chapter 6: Science Project
#hayden young#perfect match#the hayden young project#hayden young skills#hayden young: skill masterlist#skill masterlist
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Transferrable Skills Part 3
Transferrable Skills Masterlist
CW: POV depiction of dissociation, medication administered without explicit consent, mineral water, slightly altered state of consciousness (debatable), Simon Riley's Canonically Large Body
You lose time. Thereâs nothing for it. Everything gets flat and distant. Every now and again, you gain lucidity and catch details. The thick pile of the carpet beneath your bare feet. The belt loop you have two fingers looped into, and the fact that there are so many loops and pockets for you to choose from. Being carried for a bit until you can be deposited into a vehicle. Someone gives you pills, maybe four of them, and it takes you two gulps of water to swallow them.
An indeterminate amount of time later, you start coming back to yourself in fits and starts. Itâs not a surprise when your teeth start chattering, but it does suck. All at once, every single one of your muscles file a complaint about locking up for hours and then sleeping on the floor. The room around you goes from fuzzy to nothing but sharp and loud edges in a split second. And, of course, the dehydration headache. You squeeze your eyes shut.
Something cold and wet is pressed into your hand and then guided to your mouth - a bottle of water. Your nose scrunches. Why do Europeans like mineral water? It barely tastes like water. But you drink it because youâre so thirsty it hurts.
âSlowly,â a deep voice rumbles above you.
You almost choke when you look up. The man standing over you is Simon, not the skull-faced Ghost, except that heâs neither and both. Even having had video sessions with him before, youâd assumed that most of his bulk you had seen today had been gear. Like an owl. But no, heâs really just that tall and broad. The shape of his jaw is familiar, though, just like his heavy brows and the bump in the bridge of his nose.
Without thinking, you reach out and touch his left arm. You almost expect the faded tattoos to twist away from your fingertips. Instead, Simon turns his arm so you end up caressing the inside of his elbow, skin soft and delicate and warm.
âEyes up, Bambi,â Simon rumbles.
When you try to snatch your hand back, he catches your wrist. His hand is large and hot, and you realize all of a sudden that youâve touched each other for the first time. His fingers are thick and blunt, and his nails are unkempt. He has a hangnail on his middle finger and scars across his knuckles.
âEyes up,â he rumbles, again, sounding amused.
Your heart races as your eyes follow the line of his arm, the way his shirt barely fits around his bicep. The curve of his pectoral and the way his chest expands as he breathes. Your gaze gets caught on hollow of his throat and again on the thickness of his neck and the shape of his jaw. But finally, you meet his eyes.
Youâve seen a man before, youâve seen Simon before. With his shirt off, even! Thereâs no reason that just meeting his eyes should make you breathless. But you canât help it, you stop breathing as he holds your gaze.
ââEllo, beautiful,â he purrs, his other hand coming up to envelop yours around the bottle of water. Youâre not a small woman, but wow, your hand feels small in his grip. âCân you sip slowly for me?â
âYeah,â you breathe. Heâs fucking huge. Maybe itâs the shock, but heâs all you can see in that moment. (Is it subspace? No, but it damn sure feels like it.) And heâs touching you, finally. Finally. Thatâs insane. Heâs supposed to be across an entire ocean, but heâs here and he saved you and heâs touching you. Youâd do anything he wants.
âDrink,â he reminds you, and his hand stops you from pouring the whole bottle over yourself in your haste to follow his command. âSlowly, Bambi, thereâs a good girl. Slow sips, two at a time. Cân you do that?â
Yeah, you think, holding eye contact as you bring the bottle back to your mouth. The mineral taste shocks you back into your body, again. Again. You drank some of this before. Someone gave you pills. Your body should hurt a lot more than it does, shouldnât it? A knot of worry starts between your shoulder blades. And then Simonâs hand slides up your arm, coming to rest against the side of your neck. His finger tips brush over the bumps of your spine and you realize. Oh. He wouldnât let anything happen to me.
âIbuprofen?â you ask, lowering the bottle.
He hums an affirming note. âSaid your back was hurtinâ, so I had the paramedics give you some.â
I love you, you think, not for the first time, but youâre sipping again so you canât embarrass yourself by saying it.
Another voice makes you jump and almost spit your water. âBambi, aye? Where'd'ye find this bonnie girl, LT?â
Youâre clinging to Simon before you know youâre moving. One arm around his lower back, the other clinging to one of his tree-trunk thighs. Youâd be more embarrassed about burying your face into his side if Simon hadnât pivoted to put himself more between you and the rest of the room. The hand on the back of your neck gives you a gentle squeeze.
ââS not really your business, is it?â Simon answers. âFuckinâ âell, Soap.â
ââM just curious,â the man called Soap says. When you peek at him, heâs is at the table of what looks like a mid sized hotel suite. You recognize the mohawk, but now that youâre not as imminently panicked, you realize how blue Soapâs eyes are. Heâs casually dressed, jeans and a brown tee shirt. Very different from when you last saw him.
âAw,â he coos when he sees you looking. âThere she is.â
You take in the room so that you donât have to see him looking at you. Youâre on a little armchair between a couch and a desk. Thereâs a hall to the right, which you assume leads to the entrance to the suite. Another door opens into a bedroom, where you can see white sheets.
âLeave âer, Soap,â another voice says, and then another man, Price, the Captain, comes through that doorway with his own bottle of water. You almost donât recognize him without his hat. Did he have all of that facial hair before? He gives you a nod and half smile before addressing Simon. âLaswell says thingsâve calmed down. We have to go confirm the report. Bambiâs free to go back to the hotel if she wants.â
âNot likely,â Simon scoffs before you can protest. âShe can stay âere.â
âSheâll need her stuff,â Price points out. âWant to send the boys to collect it?â
Three fingers tap the back of your neck. Youâd always wondered if that signal that heâs taking a moment to think was just for kink scenes. Itâs comforting to realize that maybe it isnât. Simon is a man who stops to think, and maybe so is this Ghost.
ââLl go get âem,â Simon says, after a minute. âGot some other things to grab while âm out.â
Out? âOut?â
He looks down at you with another squeeze to the back of your neck. âOut. Cap and I got to check in, ân Iâll get yâr stuff. Figured youâd prefer not to go back.â
âDonât leave me.â The words are out before you can bite it back. You blanch and pull away from him. Well, you try, wrapping your arms around yourself instead of him, but he still has a hand cupping the base of your skull. âI mean- Thatâs- I know itâs your job. I can- Iâll be okay going back to my hotel. Or staying here? God, you probably have a lot to do, I should-â
âDrink,â Simon interrupts, putting the water bottle youâd lost track of back into your hand. âFinish this. Slow sips, two at a time. Acknowledge.â
âAcknowledged,â you answer, automatically, as you lift the bottle to your lips. âSlow, two sips at a time. All of it.â
âGood girl.â He folds down into a crouch in front of you. You take an extra sip in self defense, because wow thatâs a lot of man. Thereâs a whole other, third person that you hadnât been able to see around him, sitting at the table with Soap. But Simonâs staring into your eyes, so you canât get more than an impression of the room around you before youâre caught in his orbit again. âYâr staying here with me. âM not takinâ you back to the other hotel. âM gonna get your stuff. You unpacked, yeah?â
You nod, looking down at your hands so you can concentrate on what heâs saying instead of the urge to kiss the the scars on his cheek.
âDonât want anyone else going through your things,â he says. âSo âm gonna get all âf it. âNd then Iâll come back with food. Yâre gonna give me your keycard, finish the water, ân watch somethinâ easy on the TV while you do your stretches. Acknowledge.â
âKey card, water, TV and yoga,â you say, chancing a glance back at his face. Bad idea. You fumble the key card from your pocket, surprised you still have it, and hand it over. The way his eyes crinkle with his smile makes you want to slide down into the space between his thighs to hide from the rest of the world. âAcknowledged. But-â You chew your lip. âI donât want to be alone.â
âSoap ân Gazâll stay with you. You donât have to talk to them if you donât want to. Hold up four fingers and theyâll leave you alone. Show me.â His big hand rubs your knee when you comply. âThis is the last thing âve got to do for work. When I come back, itâs just me ân you. Green?â
âSuper green.â Someone snorts a laugh, but you ignore it. âYouâll come back?â
ââM cominâ back. Donât want to leave.â His hand slides up the outside of your thigh, until heâs gripping your hip. Youâre dizzy with a sudden flush of warmth when he leans in to whisper. âThe next time I have you in my arms, âm not letting go for a long time.â
Yep, you need the water. âTV and stretches,â you squeak. âAcknowledged.â
âThatâs my girl,â he rumbles. He stands, glancing his lips against your forehead as he does. âGonna give you a reward for beinâ so good today. Tell one of the boys what you want to eat, âll bring it on the way back.â
#transferrable skills#kink fics#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction#manic pixie dream ghost#this story is a slow burn#but not because i want it to be#hey look! i remembered the masterlist link AND the read more on the first go
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lessons in lovemaking
marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pantsâleaving you both stunned.
Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 8.4k
A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.
main masterlist | series masterlist
You never wouldâve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. Youâd seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadnât even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted âhusbandâ ought to do? The super soldier looked like heâd rather swallow glass. He couldnât even meet your gaze, for godâs sake.
What the hell had Fury been thinking?
You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strainedâHelp me, Iâm being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wifeâlook on his face.
This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasnât holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.
By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tightâshoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didnât bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldnât need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.
Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You mightâve found it cute under different circumstances. âYouâre making this incredibly fucking difficult.â
âI donât understand why itâs such a big dealââ
âBecause itâs our cover, Barnes.â you snapped, incredulous. âWeâre supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I donât knowâdo our fucking job?â
Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.
âYouâre unbelievable. Fury shouldâve just sent me aloneââ you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.
A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.
âFuck.â
With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.
âNo.â You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhereâyour hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.
âPlay along,â you murmured. âKiss me. Now.â
âWhaââ His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.
Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like youâd just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpasteâspearmintâand the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If youâd been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.
An aftershave-scented stone statue.
The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, âAh, young love.â
Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and thenâ
A sound.
Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.
You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt itâhard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.
Oh.
The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longerâjust enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.
Barnes didnât move.
For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realiseâ
Did he justâ?
You both looked down at the same time.
And there it was.
The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.
You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.
Barnes didnât wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.
â
It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadnât left the goddamn bathroom.
It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy woodâsubtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you werenât going anywhere.
âBarnes.â You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.
You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this lookedâlipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked menâs bathroom like a woman scorned. You mustâve looked thoroughly debauched.
Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?
You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.
âBarnes,â you muttered, knocking againâyour patience wearing thinner by the second. âOpen the damn door.â
Silence.
You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.
âBarnes, I have been patient.â You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. âIf you donât open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.â
Silence.
Motherfucker.
"Alright, Iâm coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.
You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, andâ
"Make sure you're decent, Barnesâ"
The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.
Barnes was not decent.
Not in the way youâd expected.
He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to youâ
You felt your stomach drop.
Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.
Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.
"Hey, BarnesâŚâ Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.
He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.
âI donâtââ His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I donât want you inâ"
You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.
"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."
âNo.â It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.
âBarnes, you need to breathe.â
Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirtânone of it mattered. It wasnât your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.
âIn through the nose,â you instructed, voice softer now. âOut through the mouth.â
By some miracle, Barnes listened.
He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.
âThere you go,â you murmured, voice barely above a breath. âKeep breathing, just like that. Youâre doing so well.â
Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.
âBarnes,â you hesitated, watching his face carefully. âCan I touch you?â
His whole body tensed.
âWhat?â His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.
âIs it okay,â you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, âif I touch you?â
Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.
You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.
The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.
Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt itâfelt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.
âKeep breathing,â you reminded him, voice low and steady. âNice and slow.â
Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzlingâactually nuzzlingâagainst your palms.
âThere you go,â you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. âLook at me.â
His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.
âTell me one thing you can smell right now.â
Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. âSmell?â
âYes, smell.â You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. âJust one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.â
He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. âI guess⌠whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.â
A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. âGood. Youâre doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.â
His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since youâd walked in, he wasnât shaking as badly.
âThis suit jacket,â he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. âItâs too fuckinâ tight. They always are with my armââ
His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. âJust breathe, remember? Youâre doing so well. One more thing you can feel.â
Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face.Â
âYou,â he admitted, voice quieter now. âI can feel you. Touching my face.â
âGood.â You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. âAre you okay with that?â
âYes.â He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasnât shaky. âIt feels⌠it feels nice.â
Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. âNow, three things you can see.â
Barnesâ eyes scanned over your face, searching.
âYou,â he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. âYour lipstick is smudged.â
"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.
Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.
"UhâŚ" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper⌠and the sink, I guess?"
You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.
"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"
At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.
You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "Iâm going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself upâuse the sink, use the soap."
His throat bobbed. "But myâmy boxers, theyâll get all wetâ"
"Thereâs a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and weâll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"
Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "Iâll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everythingâs okay."
Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.
The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.
The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.
You didnât rush him. Didnât make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.
Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.
Thenâ
Barnes cleared his throat.
You turned.
He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didnât flinch, didnât moveâjust stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.
You didnât give him one.
Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.
âThere,â you murmured, satisfied.
You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a messâlipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.
Barnes hadnât moved.
You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didnât look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.
Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.
âReady to go?â you asked.
There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. ââŚYeah.â
You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didnât resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didnât pull away. Didnât let go.
You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. âCâmon, sergeant. Letâs get out of here.â
Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded roomâaway from prying eyes.
â
A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.
A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was⌠strange. It wasnât just a groanâit was strained, needy. Erotic.
Your eyes snapped open.
The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this timeâa choked whimper thick with desperation.
Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?
Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.
Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnesââ
Barnes.
Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.
There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though heâd tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turnsâone in the bed, the other on the couchâto keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Starkâs meddling.
You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnesâ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.
Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dreamâmore than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?
The realisation hit like a freight train.
He was having a sex dream.
Jesus.
You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You shouldâve looked away, shouldâve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downwardâ
âBarnes.â Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.
He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on youâstanding there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.
His eyes flickered downward.
Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.
You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasnât his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.
What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like thisâor did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.
âH.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didnât they?â you muttered.
Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didnât say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.
âBarnes, weâre not doing this again. Letâs just talkââ
The door slammed.
Then, the soft click of the lock.
You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you shouldâve been more sympathetic. Shouldâve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnesâ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.
You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. âI know how youâre feeling.â
Silence.
You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. âI understand what itâs like to be in a body that doesnât feel like your own.â
A pause. No response.
âIt must be hard,â you continued softly. âNot knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you donât understand.â
Another pause. This one stretched longer.
âYou shouldnât be ashamed of trying to navigate that.â The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didnât push, didnât say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting.Â
You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Roomâs control, under Dreykovâs control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.
You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didnât know. You didnât know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.
But what did freedom mean when you didnât exist?
There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that werenât issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smileâto accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.
But how could you, when you werenât sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?
So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.
Terrifyingly well.
The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldnât touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.
âGo back to sleep.â Buckyâs voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.
You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. âYeah, not happening.â
âI know the others give you crap about not dating, but you donât have to let them pressure you,â you continued, keeping your tone light. âYou donât have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.â
âBack in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. âI used to be a real flirt.â
A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasnât the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece.Â
âI just donât know anymore,â he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.
âWhen I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.â
A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.
âItâs all⌠fractured in my mind,â he murmured, barely above a whisper. âScattered. Broken.â
You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.
âIâm sorry,â you said, and you meant it. âI understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room⌠they didnât just use us for assassinations and espionage.â
There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.
For the first time, the door cracked open.
Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a messâdamp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadnât quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.
âWhy are you being kind to me?â he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldnât quite believe it.
You tilted your head, studying him.
âBecause youâre hurting,â you said simply. âAnd obviously, you havenât fully processed any of this.â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.
With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you.Â
âHave you spoken to Steve about this?â you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. âSam?â
Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. âGod, no.â
âWhy?â
âI dunno,â he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. âItâs just... awkward. I feel like a fuckinâ schoolboy.â
You tilted your head, watching him carefully. âI could teach you.â
His eyes snapped to you, wary. âWhat?â
âI could teach you,â you repeated, voice steady. âHow to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. Youâre just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.â
Buckyâs expression darkened, jaw clenching. âWhy the hell would you do that?â
You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. âDo you know how many men Iâve fucked and not felt a thing?â you said quietly, barely above a whisper.Â
âI wasnât just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.â His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.
You swallowed, pushing forward. âItâs why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all Iâve ever known.â
Buckyâs breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. âFury knows what they did to you, and he still continues toââ
âI agreed to it,â you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. âHe just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasnât asking me to fuck you, just to perform. Thatâs what I do. Perform.â
Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head.Â
âLook, I donât know you,â he muttered, voice low, rough. âI donât want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I donât know, self-sabotage.â
The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiledâactually flinchedâbefore you could stop yourself. It wasnât just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.
Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didnât take it back. Didnât soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didnât, but either way, the damage was done.
Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinctâsecond nature, really. Youâd spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. Youâd built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you.Â
Bucky wasnât the first to speak to you like that. Wouldnât be the last.
You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. âIt was just an offer.â
Nothing more. Nothing less.
You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.
Fine. Message received.
â
The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was requiredâhe held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasnât as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.
Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleepârepeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. Youâd gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, youâd be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Buckyâs constant, looming presence.Â
God, the man had a staring problem.
You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realisedâhe wasnât staring through you. He was staring at you.
You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. Youâd catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.
Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet âthanksâ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.
And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.
The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You werenât even sure it was in English. It didnât matter. You werenât watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.
You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch youâd been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, youâd be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Starkâs absurd wealth.
God, you missed Egyptian cotton.
Bucky was still staring at you. You couldnât help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. âWhat? Is there something on my face?â
Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.
âNothingââ he stammered.
You arched a brow, unimpressed.
âNo. Thereâs obviously something you want to say.â You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. âGo on, spit it out.â
He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.
You didnât let up. âYou sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while youâre at itââ
âIâm sorry.â Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.âI shouldnât have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all youâve done.â
You frowned. âYou donât owe me anything, Barnes.â The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm.Â
âI snapped at you. And I shouldnât have.â he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.
You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.
âItâs okay. I understand,â you said, a little softer. âI havenât exactly been⌠the kindest either.â
A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, âHow do you do that?â
âDo what?â
âAct like everything is okay. Like itâs normal.â His voice was strained, like he wasnât even sure if he believed in what he was asking.
You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. âIâm probably not the best person to ask about thisââ
âBut you get it, right?â He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. âTo not know⌠who or what you are? Sometimes I⌠I just want to be normal again.â
You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your lifeânot anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you werenât normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldnât quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person.Â
âI donât think people like us get to be normal,â you said finally, choosing your words carefully.
His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.
âBut I think,â you continued, âit would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve⌠Sam. You donât have to face this all aloneâNatasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. Thereâs no shame in it.â
Buckyâs face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him.Â
âItâs okay,â you reassured, voice steady. âJust tell me... what is it you need right now?â
His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.
Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.
âI want to take you up on your offer.â
You tilted your head. âMy offer?â
Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, lowâlike he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. âLessons. Lessons in⌠love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing youââ
He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop itâlight, amused, genuine.
Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.
You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.
âOf course,â you murmured, smiling. âThought youâd never ask.â
â
âIs this okay?â you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Buckyâs lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.
His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. âYes,â he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.
âJust breathe,â you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.
âWhatâs worrying you?â You asked gently. âIs there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?â
Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasnât sure he was allowed to hold you. âNo,â he said, his voice rough.Â
âThis is great, Iââ He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.
You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. âTalk to me,â you coaxed.
His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. âI just⌠donât want to embarrass myself. Again.â
Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile.Â
âYouâre cute when you say things like that,â you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. âDonât worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.â
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
âNow,â you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, âif you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?â
âStop,â Bucky answered without hesitation.
âGood,â you praised, smiling warmly. âAnd if you canât speak? If the words wonât come?â
His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythmâthree distinct beats. You nodded in approval. âPerfect.â
His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching.Â
âWhat about you?â he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. âIf you want to stop?â
You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.
âIâll do the same thing,â you assured him. âJust like we discussed.â
For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, âIâm⌠Iâm ready. I think.â
You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw.Â
âOkay. I thought weâd start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,â you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adamâs apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.
âIâm sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,â you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.
âOh yeah,â he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, âuntil Steve became⌠well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.â
You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the worldâs deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.
âYou knowâŚâ he hesitated, voice quieter now. âYou were my first kiss since⌠well, everything.â
Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin.Â
âWell,â you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, ânow Iâll be your second too.â
And then you kissed him.
It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didnât pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into youâhesitant at first, but eager.
His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasnât sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.
You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chestâhalfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.
Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.
âAm I doing⌠okay?â he asked, his voice rough.
You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again.Â
âMore than okay,â you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.
This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.
You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel himâhard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.
You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.
âYouâre doing so well,â you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.
âIââ He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.
The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.
âIâm gonnaââ His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.
You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldnât quite form the words.
âI didnât mean to finish so earlyââ he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.
âYou did so well,â you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. âHow do you feel?â
âGood.âÂ
You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. âWhat⌠what about you? Donât you want toâŚ?â
You snorted. âThat doesnât matter. This was about you, not me.â
He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. âBut I feel bad leaving youââ
âIâm fine, trust me.â You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. âWe have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.â
Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.
For a moment, you werenât sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant handâwarm and slightly callousedâghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.
ââŚThank you,â he murmured at last.
PART TWO
#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky fanfic#beefy bucky#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#winter soldier#marvel fic#marvel au#marvel
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Itâs the first time Simon âGhostâ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.
But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty buildingâ Crying. Heâd never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.
He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one heâd never found before now.
âStop crying.â He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.
A part of him didnât like seeing this, didnât recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your bodyâs strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of⌠was it protection? Protection, yes. Heâd never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.
He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldnât ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.
âIm sorryâ You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.
âDont say that. Just keep holding onto me.â His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.
Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you wouldâve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.
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#simon riley drabble#simon riley x y/n#simon riley hcs#simon riley imagine#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost Riley smut#simon ghost Riley fic#simon Riley fanfiction#simon Riley angst#ghost x you#ghost smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost angst#ghost fanfiction#ghost call of duty#cod x reader#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod#task force 141#task force x reader#tf 141#itsoutrageouss
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momo fic coming tonight đâđť
#rev rambles#I like it sm that I decided to turn it into a mini series đ#for ME specifically bc something abt momo brings my writing skills out extra đŞđť#and bc momo fics get very little notes. so it rlly is just for me and the 6 other momo lovers on this app LOL#brb gonna make a cutesy fic masterlist
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seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader
summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!
warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)
a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)
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âPleaseeeee,â Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. Itâs almost comical how heâhead of the biggest clan in Jujutsuâis leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. âWill you come with me?â
The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. âSatoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.â Youâre both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.
Mind you, youâre the more rational one between you and Satoruâin fact, most of the people who know you would agree that youâre a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threatsâpowerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.
At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. âPleeeease,â he drags out, practically whining. âI have separation anxiety.â
You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for himâhours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. âI donât know, SatoruâŚâ you murmur, hesitating.
But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. âDonât make me go in there alone!â he says, his voice muffled. âYou have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. Iâm already one step away from wanting to kill them all.â
A sigh escapes you as you realize heâs not letting up. And while youâre reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinionâone of the few he truly valuesâmight actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. âAlright, alright,â you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene."Â
His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that youâre not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white heâs smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in.Â
As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, whoâs shifting the gear. âPut the divider up.â
âO-Okay, Gojo-san.â A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husbandâs voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.
âSatoru!â you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows youâre always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.
âMy pretty wife,â he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. âSo pretty, so supportive.â
Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. âSatoru, we shouldnât be doing this here. We need to discuss what to saââ
âFuck that,â he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.
âNo, butââ
His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. âBaby, you know I value what you have to say,â and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, âbut I wanna listen to something else.â
He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. âSatoru,â you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.
âYea, thatâs what I wanna hear,â he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your pantiesâ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. âMy good girl.â
As heâs touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure youâre in and youâre desperately praying to God Ijichi canât hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. Youâre just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoruâs dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. Itâs like heâs devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers.Â
Between kisses, you try to get out a âSatoruâmmph,â smooch, âwe shouldnât beâmmâ smooch, âshouldnât be doing this here!âÂ
âWhat,â he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fuckerâs trying to toy with you, knows what heâs doing is mischievous. âI canât touch my wife?â
Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. âWeâre here, Satoru we need to goâ-â As youâre trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.
Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.
With his oh-so-irritating eyesâthe same ones that you spent despising in your early school yearsâhe looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. âI canât believe you just did that.â
He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didnât bump your head against the carâs ceiling. âLetâs go and deal with those hags, my love.â
To be honest, you donât really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. Heâs on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as youâre about to take a seat next to Gojoâbeing mindful of your kimono so you donât flash any of these old bastardsâone of them speaks up.Â
âGojo-sama, why is this woman here?â
You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoruâs jaw clenched. But right as heâs about to say something, you cut in for him. âThis woman,â and you smile, deceptively sweet, âis the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.â You donât need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until youâre basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.
Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukunaâs vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under.Â
Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, âWhat is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.â
In your life, youâve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husbandâs charm. Satoru knows what heâs doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck.Â
a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorryÂ
The indecency of all of itâ-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, thatâs my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?â-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that youâd only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoruâs hands start rubbing your fold. Itâs a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless.Â
Itâs just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. âOh you liked that, didnât you?â
âI hate you,â you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoruâs circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoruâs arms engulfing you as youâre forced to take whatever touches heâs giving you under the table.Â
âSheâs so loud,â he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond.Â
A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. âGojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.â
Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. âCanât my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone elseâs in this room, after all,â he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. âBesides,â and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, âwerenât you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?âÂ
At this point, youâve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm.Â
âBut guess what,â and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, âwe can solve that problem right here, right now.â He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.
It seems that no oneâs seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojoâs suggestion was. âIt is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!â one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage.Â
Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. âThen donât bring it up all the time, old man.â Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so heâs running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. âActually, what about this? You all havenât witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?â He smirks. âWhat about witnessing the heir-making next time?â
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a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P
comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3
#divider by cafekitsune#aashi writes#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru
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THE KING WANTS AN HEIR! SO, GIVE HIM ONE.
âââââââââââ
the king is an insatiable man, whose sexual urges know no bounds when it comes to you. however, seeing you naively interact with another family, whoâs sheltering a baby, stirs primal urges within him. naturally, he wants to stuff you until youâre broken, pregnant and heavily swollen with his precious baby. after all, the king needs an heir. 5.7k words.
jjk men. acts: unprotected sex, double penetration, rough sex, gentle sex, breeding kink, corruption kink, missionary, excessive creampies, mating press, riding, angry sex, fingering, back shots, spanking, an arranged marriage, sukuna being hungry, sex in front of a mirror, and potentially other acts. masterlist.

jjk men: satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, kento nanami, suguru geto, choso kamo and sukuna. a/n: to that one miserable anon, enjoy. happy three months to this blog. art by sakimenz on patreon.
satoru gojo
ÂŤââââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť ââââÂť
Cornered, pinned beneath Satoru, you gasp. No escape lingered as his knee grinds against your sensitive clit, increasing the embarrassing slickness within your underwear. The look within Satoruâs eyes screamed urgency, longing, need and to obliterate you to satisfy his salacious appetite completely.
âS-Satoâ, what is it?â Meekly, flaunting naivety, you question Satoru while battering your lashes â caged by his intent.
Questioned your king, knowing his lustful eyes hold unshakable authority, you obediently succumbed to Satoruâs intimidating gaze.
âI want a royal heir. Now,â Urgently speaking, Satoru furrows his brows â picking at the ends of your regal dress.
âUse me, my king,â At Satoruâs disposal, you pour your deepest desire out â your doe eyes glimmering with the art of corruption.
âAs you wish, my Queen,â Toned with smugness, Satoru responds to your submissiveness â increasingly aroused by your naivety.
To think youâd have him take you so quickly, giving him unlimited access to you.
âShow me how much you want that heir, my love,â Intrigued, sculpted by his whims of degradation, Satoru greedily commands you â unsatisfied by the lack of contact.
âA-Ah! Y-Yes, my king,â Steered by Satoruâs knee obliterating your arousal-webbed clit, you subconsciously blurt out your desires â shelving your queen-like traits.
Right now, youâre a beautiful worshipper for him.
âWhen weâre done, I will get you pregnant,â Devoted, Satoruâs eyes and statement warn you â gifting you a chance to back out before he grows crazed.
âP-Please! N-need to be swollen with your baby, so everyone can⌠see Iâm yours,â Ego-less, you spout out your heart â compelled by Satoruâs knee driving into your sensitive cunt.
âHm, to see if you can handle it, let me stuff you with my fingers,â Sadistically grinning, Satoru deviously mutters in your ear â biting the curve of your sensitive ear.
âNgh! Iâll handle it,â Pleading with Satoru, you instantly shudder at his plump lips brushing against your ear â his troubled breaths staining your hearing.
âBe as loud as you want, no one will bother the Queen and King,â Chalant, Satoru gruffly informs you â quelling his deepest urge to tear you apart and stuff you so indecently.
Unfit against the thought of teasing you, Satoru gathers you in his arms â quickness tinting his skilled muscles. Nothing in him could resist your pouty, adrenaline-stricken state. It wasnât every moment where his satiable queen would remain before him, her regal dress being stained with an intimate scandal â propped up for his greedy sexual urges. All Satoru dreams of is stuffing you beyond comprehension, drowning you out with his cum and riddling you dumb, helpless and dependent.
âD-Donât hold back, Satoâ,â Naively mumbling something provoking, your heart seizes at Satoruâs beast-like gaze falling on you â predatory.
âIâm fine with that, but donât act as if Iâll show you mercy,â Licking his lips, Satoru grows prideful at his deep tone vibrating against your cuddled self â promoting your power difference.
âShow me that,â Controlled by your taunting, Satoru quickly rushes you towards your tempting bed â shoving you beneath his large, burly frame.
���Ah, be careful what you wish for,â Humming through his lustful speech, Satoru instinctively grabs your exposed underwear â tearing it apart in a hurry quicker than the human eye.
âYou beast,â Taunting Satoru with trembling anticipation, you puff out your cheeks â delirious at your bare, slick cunt exposed to the world.
âIâll show you one, my love,â Buzzing, Satoru pours his lips against your soppy cunt â stuffing his tongue between your writhing folds.
Throwing your head back instinctively, Satoru loudly begins to ravish you â his ample fingers prodding against your screaming cunt. If Satoru buries his celestial fingers inside your cunt, he knew heâd have finally conquered you â as your sanity flitted each time his fingers invaded your cunt. To him, thatâs checkmate â prompting his beautiful breeding kink. Seeing you so submissive would alter him, triggering his attempts to leave you pregnant and reliant on him.
Captured by Satoruâs fingers hungrily flooding your cunt, you arch your back â tainted and clouded by Satoruâs invasive presence. Bandaged with every element of him, you pant recklessly. Your cognitive functions are puppets for Satoruâs show, leaving him ruling over your pleasure-stricken body â tearing apart your dress and leaving you nude before you could notice.
A starved fiend, thatâs what he is.
âI just want to fuck you,â Hungrily slurping up your obedient cunt, Satoru mumbles â pussy struck whilst he thrusts his thick fingers into your begging cunt.
âAh! Yes!â Embarrassingly near to cumming, decorated with warmth, you scream without a care in the world â unable to handle Satoruâs fingers and warm tongue ramming against you.
âTasteâŚso good,â Rutting his erection against your wealthy blankets, Satoru hungrily samples every aspect of you â voicing his love for your cunt.
ââM gonna,â Warm, extremely dizzy, you glance down at Satoru â arching at his fingers pulverising your gushing walls.
âQuicker you doâŚquicker I get to put a baby in you,â Satisfied, purring through his sloppy speech, Satoru casts himself into picking up his pace â thrusting his fingers the deepest he could.
âNgh! Y-Yes!â Conducted by your release, you pant vigorously â unable to control your beast-like breathing at finishing so roughly.
All you could sense was Satoruâs smug expression.
âNow, itâs my turn,â Bombarded with thrill, Satoru casts himself into uttering â using an ounce of his cursed technique to shed his clothes with urgency.
âDesperation has⌠never looked this good on you,â Grinning, you murmur to Satoru with fatigue â unable to counter the anticipation that lingers.
Unwilling to throw away a second, Satoru cast himself into grasping his cock â running his thick tip against your soppy cunt. Angelicness tints his deceitful features, leaving him a mess â his ears warming at being so close to you. So close to ruining you, moments away from stuffing you with a child â through his fruitful seed.
ââNeed ya,â Hazy, Satoru breathily whimpers â casting himself into rutting his thick cock into your awaiting cunt.
âHgh!â Crying out, your eyes frantically roll back â consumed by Satoruâs monstrous cock breaking into you.
Gasping, unable to control your array of moans, you grip Satoruâs hand â attempting to control your movements. Being pinned beneath Satoruâs body of an enclosure, you grunt, whimper and howl towards his large cock splitting apart your cunt.Â
âF-Fuck! âMissed this,â Vanquished by sexual relief, Satoru moans out his sentence â needily shoving more of his cock into you.
âS-Satoâ!â Reigned by the king, youâre suffocated by Satoruâs warmth, his essence, his fat cock and his overbearing lust.
âYouâreâŚbegging, at this point,â Fruitfully stuffing you, Satoru makes room to taunt you â gleeful at your physique crumbling before his cock.
âY-Yeah,â Mentally out of it, you cloudily respond to Satoru â being pounded by his relentless cock.
Naturally, Satoruâs a relentless conqueror.
âMyâŚprecious, wife,â Fittingly, Satoru picks up his relentless pace â fulfillingly finishing inside of you without an ounce of shame.
âS-SoâŚsoon?â Slightly confused, you question Satoru â only to be knocked out of it by his thick cock pulverising you entirely again.
âH-Hard holding back,â Panting vigorously, Satoru lovingly glances down at you â kissing your pillowy lips.
âWe have all night, donât stop,â Encouraging Satoru, you hazily encourage him â trembling at the intensity of his cumshot.
âOf course, Iâm not done,â Vouching that heâd ruin you, Satoru beautifully informs you.
toji fushiguro
ÂŤâââââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť âââÂť
Accompany Toji by his throne, on your knees before him, you glance up at him. Naively, you flaunt your doe eyes â mystique and intrigue tinting you. Usually, Toji would never command you to situate yourself before him â nude, degraded and a royal shell of yourself.Â
âIs there a reason why weâre both naked, angrily staring at each other?â Questioning your husband, staring up at his large cock, you settle it between your pliant fingers.
âBecause you havenât given me a damn baby yet,â Furrowing his brows, Toji roughly proclaims his thoughts â gritting his teeth at your hold movement.
âThatâs why you were so angry when you saw that family?â Playfully taunting Toji, you plant yourself into circling his pre-cum coated tip â intrigued by his fruitful emotions.
âYeah, since Iâm tryna have everyone see you pregnant and just mine,â Grunting pensively, Toji trembles at your thumb harshly pressing against his thick tip.
âThatâs why you told me to strip and meet you in the throne room?â Innocently asking Toji, you flaunt your doe eyes â admiring his twitching cock.
âWhy else? So we could dance or whatever?â Angered by your false naivety, Toji snaps back at you â only for his eyes to flutter at each sway of your thumb.
âIâll dance on your cock, if thatâs what makes the kingdomâs moody king happy,â Scoffing, you teasingly respond to Toji â hovering your warm lips before his cockhead.
âFirst, youâll show me that you deserve that baby,â Raising your brow at Tojiâs demand, you prettily grin, âThen, Iâll stuff you until the kingdom has a damn heir.â Enchanted by Tojiâs skilled determination, you admire his vexed expression â along with his rising mouth scar.
âIâll ruin you, King Fushiguro,â Regally threatening Toji, you allow your lips to linger above Tojiâs tip â your warm breaths frustrating him.
âHurry, then,â Increasing his attention towards you, Toji applies his cursed speech within your ear â eagerly clinging to the throne.
âMy, my, my kingâs so impatient,â Confidently speaking, you teasingly kiss Tojiâs massive cock-head â observing him puddle before you.
âFuck, woman,â Defeated by your celestial lips, Toji mutters subconsciously â intensely watching you softly lick his tip.
âHmm, look how desperate you are,â Grinning through your words, you finally cave into Toji â smushing your lips around Tojiâs reddened tip.
âCâmon,â Impatiently pushing you, Toji grits his teeth at your insufferable teasing â annoyed at you depriving him of pleasure.
âPatience, my dear,â Resisting the urge to rub your dripping cunt, you shakily mutter to Toji â focusing on him.
Gently, you begin to pour Tojiâs veiny cock into your mouth â pushing your head down to accommodate him. Filling your thin cheeks with Tojiâs cock, you begin to constantly suck â using your soft hands to stroke his left-over length.
âS-SoâŚgood,â Submitting to your intoxicating warmth, Toji blurts out his heart â his fingers itching to throat-fuck a skilled you.
âD-Donât cum,â Warning Toji, you cast yourself into bobbing your head recklessly â entertained by Toji writhing beneath you.
You always sucked him so good.
âC-CanâtâŚpromise,â Quivering beneath you, Toji gasps at you vulgarly engulfing him â completely stealing his you-tainted soul.
ââNeed itâŚinside,â Messily speaking, you watch Tojiâs flustering eyes â controlled by his fingers gripping onto your prepped curls.
âGiveâŚyou⌠all of it,â Unable to think straight, Toji lazily responds to you â bucking his hips into your mouth without any regard.
âY-YouâreâŚtwitching,â Ruined by Toji inhumanely slamming his hips into your mouth, you plead for air â teary and destroyed by his subconscious pace.
âG-Gonnaââ
âN-No,â Pulling your mouth back, you bluntly answer Toji â getting up from your knees and facing him.
Observing an enraged Toji, you cast yourself into wickedly grinning. Grinning before you straddle him on his throne, carrying not an ounce of shame. Shame towards his tension-build self, unwilling to shed the cocky facade you exhibit.
âDonât act so mad, you want a baby,â Teasing Toji, you accustom yourself into openly taunting him â rutting your hips against his sensitive cock-head.
âIâm taking⌠control,â Panting recklessly, Toji narrows his eyes while he asserts dominance â grabbing his intimidating cock.
âDonât make me regret it,â Instantly regretting your words, you cry out as Toji aligns himself â mercilessly sinking you onto his hefty cock.
âO-Oh!â Meeting Tojiâs eyes, you naively moan â your eyes painfully rolling back at him filling out your stomach.
ââM not gettingâŚblue balls,â Satisfied, Toji thrusts so deeply within you â unwilling to give you time to recover from plunging on him.
As petty reparations, Toji manhandles you â grasping your ass cheeks and forcing you to take more. Take more before he pounds into you cruelly, throwing his head back at your strained moans and surrendered state.
Expanding his sadistic tendencies, Toji grins at his cock throbbing effortlessly â taunting your sensitive cunt further. It doesnât help that youâre foolishly close to reaching your breaking point, never being one whoâs capable of handling riding him. However, Toji grows uncaring â kissing against your cervix before he swarms your gummy walls with his bucket-loads of cum.
âAh!â Yelping at Tojiâs hurricane-like cumming, you almost collapse against him â only for him to cloudily chuckle at this revolutionary moment.
âThinkâŚIâd go easy on you?â Barely able to question you, Tojiâs enveloped by you tightening around him â embarrassingly cumming from him finishing too hard inside of you.
âN-NoâŚdonât stop,â Engulfed by Tojiâs essence, you plead for him to not stop, âWe have all day, fill me up as long as you like.â Mentally finished, you continue to mewl and release lewd sounds â contained by Toji filling up your abdomen.
âHmm, weâre gonna have a baby,â Hazily glancing at you, Toji lowly speaks â granting you a strained kiss.
â
kento nanami
ÂŤââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť âââÂť
Situated in the kitchen with Kento, you tremble at him pressing against you â pretending to grab an ingredient for you. Lately, Kento had grown increasingly needy â yearning for you around ovulation. This increasing urge haunted you, leaving you his manhandled rag doll. You were always moments away from being folded into a mating press and drilled by him, no matter where.
âKento, youâre awfully needy,â Calming down your nerves, you chuckle with your speech â accidentally dropping your knife for apple pie.
âI can justâŚsmell that youâre ovulating,â At Kentoâs flustered truth, you gasp at his erection prodding against your bubble butt.
âAnd what?â Bending down to grab your knife, you counter Kento â smearing your cunt against his erection.
âF-Fuck, thatâŚmeans Iâm ready to fulfil our chances of having an heir,â Grunting, Kento trembles while he speaks.
A mess, Kento caresses your bubble butt â gently humping your bent-over state. Absolutely nothing, but your consent, could pull Kento away from your arched self. Fuck, Kento knew you were tempting him â smashing against his erection to provoke him. To push the king into ruining you in the royal kitchen, close to ruining your regal reputation.
âIf you can eat me out from behind, Iâll let you fold me in a mating press,â Before you could finish your sentence, Kento already tore your day's attire and underwear.
Heâd have to buy you a new pair.
âYou damn beast,â Taunting Kento, you attempt to quell your prominent submission â steadying yourself against the marble counter.
âJ-Just canât resist⌠your sweet smell,â Unable to contain his inner savagery, Kento lightly mutters â hypnotised by your soppy cunt.
âC-Careful, anyone can walk by and in, Kento,â Rather panicky, you tremble towards Kentoâs greedy tongue slotting between your folds.
âIâm the king and youâre the queen, I donât care,â Kento proclaims, arching you further. Comfortably on his knees, Kento drinks up your squelchy cunt â lapping up your strings of arousal.
Whining, erect, Kentoâs expression strains at being unable to relish you properly. Therefore, he provokes you â shoving his gluttonous face between your thighs. Even as your legs grow unsteady, Kento uses a large hand of his to keep you upward â facing the royal window and pretending to be calm as people walk by.
Kento could sense they knew something was up.
âHgh! r-ruinâŚme,â Fixating on your words, Kento roughens his tongue's pace â burying his fingers into your gentle ass. As if he would go easy on you, especially with your ovulation.
âYou donât have⌠to ask me twice,â Smitten, Kento eagerly responds to you â content at you growing seconds away from finishing.
âD-Donât knowâŚif I can! Ahhh!â Crying out, you vigorously cum against Kentoâs tongue â overwhelmed and drawn out by the entirety of him.
âHmm, so sensitive,â Content, Kento comments on your current condition â happily lowering your vulnerable physique to the ground.
âT-Take me, Kenâ,â Surrendering to Kento, you lovingly speak â fatigued at his intense eating.
âOf course,â Licking his lips, Kento answers â swiftly disregarding the bottom half of his clothing.
âCanât believeâŚweâre gonna fuck on the kitchen floor,â Content, you voice your spirit to Kento. Intrigued, you peek at Kento â quickly releasing his thick cock.
Shifting before you, Kento casts himself into grounding his knees upon the kitchen floor â positioning himself above you. Enthralled by your cunt, Kento casts himself into preparing his mating press â smearing his tip against your fluttering cunt.
âNeed all of you now,â Commanding, Kento rubs his cock against your folds â only to plunge into your cunt with ease.
âOhhh!â A moaning mess, youâre silenced by Kentoâs hand covering your mouth â gifting you not an ounce of time to adjust.
âMhmm, Iâve missed that,â Feral, Kentoâs cock frantically twitches â causing him to slap his hips against yours. He fills you with his cock, so deeply within you.
Controlled by your ovulation, Kento presses his cock deeply inside of you â swearing that your sweet cunt is a bottomless well. Heated, frantic and a stupid mess, Kento beautifully folds you â suffocating you with his large cock kissing against your pressured walls. Walls that accommodate him, but choke at the scary pace Kento inflicts.
Kentoâs hungry and insatiable.
Thrusting at a might that captures you both, Kento groans roughly â hitting a point within you that makes both of you cum. Cum in a way that doesnât stop him, leaving him pounding until he gets his royal heir. Thereâs no way he would stop, even with the two of you against the kitchen floor â so close to being stopped and caught.
The king and queen, huh?
__
suguru geto
ÂŤââââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť ââââÂť
Surrendering to a possessive Suguru, you allow him to toy with your rosy lingerie. Monitoring him, you raise a brow â noticing the angry cloud that contains him. Usually, Suguruâs a content king. Yet, something about seeing you holding another manâs child stirred jealousy in him.
âSuguru, whatâs wrong?â Confused, you question your husband â puddling at his fingers gripping your ass.
âI want a baby, but youâre too busy holding random royalâs babies,â Furrowing his brows, Suguru answers you â spanking your ass gently.
Itâs obvious that he wanted to go harder. Heâs angry.
âFuck! S-So tell me what you want, Suguâ?,â Caving into Suguruâs spanking, you utter â arching at his harsh slap.
All you can hear is your ass recoiling.
âI want to fill you up with my cum, until youâre pregnant.â Comforted by your listening, Suguru voices his desires â playing with your doe eyes.
âS-Suguâ,â As you try to find the right words, Suguru holds you extremely close â his head resting against your plump breasts.
âIâd do anything to see you so full, pregnant and mine,â Trembling at the thought of filling you efficiently, Suguru harshly blabbers â gripping onto you with no intentions of freeing you.
âIâll let you, Suguâ,â Softly speaking, you gently push your underwear to the side â noticing the mirror at your side.
âHm, but Iâve got to prep you first,â Riddled with tension, Suguru informs you â bringing his fingers to circle your tender clit.
âBe rough because⌠I know youâre angry,â Mocking Suguruâs enraged state, you gasp at him pulling you into his lap â toying with your pierced clit.
âDonât provoke me,â Suguru alerts you, prodding his fingers against your cunt â passionately kissing your parted lips.
âIf I let you, King Geto, we could⌠have had a newborn by nowââ Hazed by Suguruâs clit swirling, you lazily talk â only for your eyes to widen at him suddenly stuffing your cunt with his fingers.
ââYouâre always wet, so I knew thatâd shut you up,â Relentlessly muttering, Suguru jams his fingers impossibly deep â watching you attempt to pry away from him.
ââM soâŚfull!â Reprogrammed, you let out an outcry â burying your fingers into Suguruâs carved shoulder.
âMhm, soon itâll be a baby,â Hyperfixated on impregnating you, Suguru continues, âI wonât stop until youâre pregnant, flaunting your bump and nurturing an heir.â Suguruâs seriousness causes your heart to swell.
âYes! IâllâŚYes!â Attempting to get out your point, Suguru thrusting takes away your abilities to speak.
Reprimanding you, Suguru shoots his fingers endlessly inside of you â watching your brows knit together. Seeing you battling his fingers, riddled with pleasure, left the king extremely content.Â
âYou dare disobey your king?â Teasing you, commending you for trying to govern your pleasure, Suguru pounds angrily into your weakened state.
Suguru knows that youâre one to cum so fast, so seeing you trying to stretch this one motivated him.Â
âI-IâŚNoâŚFuck!â Trying to control your consciousness, youâre rendered useless.
 Mortified, you finish extremely fast. Your physique grows warm and your legs tremble, deemed useless at Suguru continuing to stuff his fingers into you. Your losing streak had stretched on, particularly from always cumming so quickly when he fingered you.
âBad girl, guess I have to stuff you in front of the mirror,â Relishing your panting state, Suguru patronisingly speaks to you.Â
Naturally, Suguruâs mellow at your ego being knocked down a hinge. With not a word fleeing from your lips, Suguru plants himself into slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt â sucking them whilst maintaining excruciating eye contact.
Manhandling you, Suguru throws you onto the bed â pushing you into a rough arch. Rough arch before he harshly slaps your doughy ass, delighting in the way you recoil with pleasurable pain. His anger still hadnât subsided, so taking it out on you â consensually â further aroused him.
âScream as loud as you can, I want everyone to hear how our heirâll be made,â Taunting you, Suguru hurriedly pulls off his shorts â only to come back and tear at your lingerie.
âY-Yes!â Obedient, you agree with him â admiring your reflection in the mirror.
Smitten at your compliance, Suguru runs his cock against your yearning folds. Wickedly greeting your eyes in the mirror, Suguru stuffs your cunt without warning â basking in you almost collapsing at his movements. Nothing in him yearns to keep you stable, wrecking you until youâre a pregnant mess.Â
After all, Suguru needs an heir; heâs not willing to let this fruitful moment slip from his burly fingers.
âMake sure to hold yourself up,â Mocking your cock-filled state, Suguru rams harder into you â making sure his large balls slap against your clit.
Without further notice, Suguru grips onto your hips â roughening his pace. Content at your screaming, mewls and outcries, Suguru obliterates you with his ample cock â his balls aching your sensitive clit.
âMhhmmm!â Muffling into the sheets, you admire your tear-stained eyes in the mirror.
âG-GoodâŚâ Grunting, Suguru pounds into you without any care â in love with the way your cunt swallows all of him.
Beautifully consumed, Suguru subconsciously finishes inside of you â crushing you with his body weight to solidify the moment. Solidify the moment as you wail with pleasure, accidentally joining Suguru in the moment. After all, Suguru always got what he wanted â angry or not.
If the nocturne turns to daybreak, Suguru wouldnât care. Even if youâre battered, ravaged and turned inwards, Suguru doesnât care. Heâs ravenous and in need of an heir.
Heâd never hurt you, though.
â
choso kamo
ÂŤââââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť âââÂť
Walking towards the parted bathroom, confusion floods you. Floods you as you listen to tainted grunts and love-stuffed moans. Instinctively pinpointing them as Chosoâs moans, you raise a brow with confusion â unsure of whatâs occurring.
âChoâ?â Sceptical, you gush out your question â pouring your scarcely robbed self against the bathroom door.
âMhm, Y/n,â Nonchalantly speaking, you pucker your lips at the lewd sight of Choso stroking his cock â beads of sweet dousing his forehead.
âC-Cho?â Unable to stifle the thudding between your thighs, you meekly call his name â standing before an absorbed Kento.
âY-Y/n!â Gasping, Chosoâs outcries are replaced with slight terror as youâre grounded in front of him â watching him jerk himself off in your bathtub.
âN-Need some help?â Innocently asking a drowsy Choso, you watch him embarrassingly monitor you â noticing your skimpy attire.
âYeah, but not with me, you,â Gasping at Chosoâs aloofness, you gulp â meeting his semi-serious gaze.
âWhat is it?â Submersed in Chosoâs scare statement, you respond â squishing your chubby thighs together.
âI want us to have an heir,â Blurting out his confession, Choso glances at you with hope, continuing, âI know Iâm half-cursed, still struggling with human emotions, but I still want a baby with you.â Glancing at his erection, Choso observes you strip â climbing into the large bathtub.
âFill me with one, Choâ,â Exhibiting your wealthy gaze, you let out a heartfelt answer â listening to Chosoâs breathing hitch.
âBaby, I need to feel you tease me,â Almost desperate, Choso blurts out his deepest needs â flooding your heart and head with explicit lust.
âHm, youâre so cute, King Kamo,â Teasing the king, you gently pinch your nipples â gently straddling his hopeless self.
âShould have known youâd teaseâŚme,â Smitten, engraving your presence upon him, Choso replies â star stricken by your nude figure.
ââM holding back,â Striving to not pounce on Choso, you lazily purr â grinding against his sensitive cock-head.
âSince when⌠have you held back?â Digging his fingers into your hips, Choso throatily questions you â smearing his you-deprived lips against your own.
âNever, butâŚI want it to last,â Confessing, you harshly whine with pleasure. Controlled by Chosoâs wavering fingers sowing into your doughy ass, you arch into him â relishing the harsh marks Chosoâs bound to plant.
âThis is your foreplay⌠since we just finished having sex?â Mocking you, Choso coolly asks you â his eyes contrasting his tame demeanour.
âYes, and Iâm soaking,â Frantic for Chosoâs cock, you mindlessly grind against cum-spewing tip â scarcely having time to respond.
âMhm, youâre still covered in hickeys,â Attentive, Choso points out the obvious â helping you apply his heavenly cock to your adoring cunt.
âNeed to be filled, Choâ,â Clinging to him, unafraid of the sloshing water, you whisper your deepest desire.
Nodding, monitoring your state, Choso plasters himself into descending you down on his cock. However, slightly troubled gasps flee your lips â especially from being so tender. Yet, Choso notices â faintly brushing his toned fingers against your supple cheek.
âIâll give you everything again, my love,â Pussy-stricken, Choso's breaths become clustered with his promise â his rawest urges rubbing against you.
âI expectâŚnothing less from my king!â Drowning Choso with your outcries, you begin to entwine with Chosoâs pace â bouncing on his cock while he bucks so viciously within you.
Whenever Choso sexually had you, he wouldnât spare you an ounce of grace or mercy â pulverising you until the angel sang your prayers. Gentleness, whenever Chosoâs lulled by your wealthy pussy, was practically nonexistent. Seeing you sit against him, your pretty, perky breasts bouncing, it made Choso lose any grasp of his morals. Morals at seeing you desperate for him, unable to pull away.
âL-LookâŚat my girl,â Clutching your hips intensely, Choso pushes you further down his cock â lovingly complimenting you.
âAh! S-Shit! P-PleaseâŚget meâŚpregnant,â Unable to handle riding Choso, you gift him a tender plea â struggling as he heightened his stamina with his blood techniques.
âMhm, we needâŚan heir,â Proud of you cumming swiftly, Choso mutters while he increases his pace â gritting his teeth at you strangling his vast cock.
âD-DoâŚit,â Exhausted, Choso animalistically becomes more consistent with your consent.
Driven by your squelching cunt, Choso fucks into you his hardest. His sacred breaths flee from his lungs, leaving him a pitiful mess â fucking into you until heâs so close to giving out. Chosoâs legs are almost close to collapsing, but he pounds into you at a celestial pace until he finally finishes â filling your womb with his precious babies.
Thereâs no way he would stop until youâre pregnant. After all, youâre ovulating.
--
sukuna.
ÂŤââââ ÂŤ â
ĘâĄÉâ
Âť ââââÂť
Wrapping a towel around yourself, you comfortably walk towards your bedroom â sighing to yourself at the lack of your husband. However, as you begin to peel off your towel, you hear your bedroom door burst open. Burst opens in a way that leaves you scrambling, cruelly met with Ryomenâs true form. A form that cowers over you, dismantling the faint light within your bedroom.
âR-Ryoâ?â Gulping, terrified, you meekly squeal out your question â entwined with a thudding thrill that greets your cunt.
âI need to get you pregnant,â Straightforward, Ryomen authoritatively speaks â seriousness lingering in his carmine eyes.
âY-You c-could have knocked,â Bare before a nearing Ryomen, you cover your breasts with your arms â shakily responding.
âWhat fun would it have been, knocking on our room door for my naive wife?â Boredom slightly tints Ryomenâs inquiry, leaving him plentiful at your flustered physique.
âN-None, R-Ryo?â Suppressed by Ryomenâs lustful corruption, you almost stumble at him overpowering you â his stomachâs mouth chuckling.
âMy little doveâs nervous,â Mocking you, Ryomen grins at your nude physique â nuzzling at your submissiveness.
âT-Take me,â Uneasy at being exposed, you blurt out your soulâs desires â fiddling with your fingers at Ryomenâs toned abs.
âIâll plant a sweet royal heir in you,â Mischievously muttering his plan, Ryomen gently pinches your nipple â walking forward to trap you against your ample bed.
âW-Whatâs come over you, Ryo?â Curious, you question Ryomen â realising your mistake as he lifts you with a singular arm.
âNot having an heir with you,â Predatory, Ryomen cast himself into voicing his concern â pushing you into straddling him.
âYou really are a big baby,â Teasing Ryomen, you accidentally moan at his stomachâs tongue prodding against your ass.
âCan I?â Concealing his primal urges, Ryomen gruffly asks you â longing to gather a beautiful taste of you. Taste before he allows his seed to spread, toning your physique for nine months.
âY-Yeah, but be careful, Iâm still sensitive from last night,â Warning Ryomen, you almost topple at his insensitive tongue darting against your cunt â tearing apart your sanity in an instant.
âIâll try, but you know itâs not in my nature to hold back,â Countering your need for ease, Ryomen hungrily responds to you â revealing his covetous urges for you.
Simply nodding, secretly yearning for Ryomen to decimate you, you toss yourself into giving into his thick, warm tongue. A tongue that relishes you so inhumanely, conquering you to the point you're craving, ailing and fixated on Ryomenâs tongue. A tongue that has mastered all of the arts on you, swiftly flicking your clit with no regard.
âMhm, Ryo,â Struck with an unfathomable amount of pleasure, you moan out his name â sticking your fingers against his timeless abs.
âCum quickly so I can stuff you beyond repair,â Humming out his impatience, a pair of Ryomenâs arms push you impossibly further against his insatiable tongue.
Content with your obedience, Ryomen buries you inhumanely against his tongue â shedding his ropes of care towards your thriving self. Sadistically monitoring, he applies an ounce of his brute strength â destroying your clit with pitiful licks that consume you. Within this form, he had to be careful â ensuring you come out in one piece.
âS-SoâŚclose! Ah! Yes! Yes!â Ecstatic, you surge Ryomenâs ears with your mewls â riding his tongue without any regard.
All you were doing was stirring Ryomenâs primal instincts, completely leaving him wanting to devour you â filling you with his two cocks.
âIâll have to be quicker,â Grinning maliciously, Ryomen taunts you â speeding his tongue at a pace that leaves you weeping. Weeping without any mental strength, tinting with the overstimulating warmth of his licking tongue.Â
A tongue that roamed effortlessly through your folds, sucking down on your clit before roaming to overwork other spots of you. Spots that ride Ryomenâs forbidden tongue, clouded and coerced by the sweet physical rhythm that his tongue introduces. A tongue you would always beg to ride, being able to meet Ryomenâs eyes without having to currently sit on his manly face.
Swarmed with an unmissable pleasure, your physique cramps against Ryomen â finishing swiftly against his tongue. Before you could shift yourself, you find your fatigued self shifted lower to rub against Ryomenâs ample cocks â almost ready to soothe his thudding cocks. Cocks that were forced to endure your whines, moans, and outcries without being truly satisfied.
âDonât act like I wasnât going to stuff you after you cum,â Expectant, Ryomen fills the ambience with his voice â intrigued by you instantly rutting your folds against his cockhead.
âI-Iâll take both,â Somewhat terrified, you pledge to take both â groaning at Ryomen using both of his hands to align his cocks.
Attempting to composure yourself, you grow soothed at Ryomenâs main arms running against your hips. Running against your hips before he hurriedly sits up a little, giving you room to face his features and steal a kiss of assurance.
âIâd have expected no less,â Sparing you praise, Ryomen slowly plunges his main cock within you â watching your eyes flutter with distress and pleasure.
âN-Never took two before,â Panting, rather teary, you voice your concerns â only for Ryomen to lovingly kiss your lips.
âHm, you will today,â Ryomen gruffly informs you, aligning his second cock to sink inside your bubble butt.
âS-SoâŚintense,â Furrowing your brows, youâre barely able to speak â hazy and faint as Ryomen descends you down on both of his cocks.
Clinging to Ryomen, you bury your fingers into his tender skin â scratching at his honed muscles. An overwhelming array of fear tints you, but that subsides the moment Ryomen sinks so deeply. The immense pleasure tears your lidded eyes open.
âHm, thatâs⌠the queen I love,â Cooing, Ryomen stuffs you further â endowing you with a few experimental thrusts that contort you.
âC-CanâtâŚâ Unable to speak, you just allow your eyelids to flutter. Your pleasureâs unable to be voiced from the intensity of it all, painting you into a state of weakness â attempting to ride.
âWeâve got all night,â Attempting to hold out, Ryomen accidentally cums with both of his cocks â the tempting warmth overwhelming even him.
âMhm, youâre gonna break me,â Fixed with primal urges, Ryomen animalistically thrusts his thick cocks within you â terrorising and breaking you subconsciously.
âThatâs the point, to prepare you for our baby,â Love-strickenly conversing, Ryomen pounds into you carelessly â humming as he has all night to shatter you.
â
do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024.
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Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child thatâs THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didnât even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.
Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.
In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.
After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.
Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.
How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.
He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.
He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.
"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.
Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.
Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.
Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.
Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.
She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.
Thatâs the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.
Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.
His necktie. Gods heâs raised a little thief.
For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.
Definetly her motherâs daughter, he thinks.
It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.
Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.
Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.
He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.
She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.
Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.
"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"
"You?â She cut in, âYeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."
Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.
"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."
Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.
At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.
Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.
Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.
In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.
"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"
Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.
He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.
His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.
"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"
Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.
The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.
"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.
"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.
Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.
Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.
Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.
Except it would be inevitable.
Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.
"Papa...did I do something wrong?"
He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.
Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.
It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."
He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.
Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.
So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.
And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.
"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.
Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.
Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.
One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.
And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.
One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.
His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.
He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.
Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.
A medical marvel. That's what this child was.
Not a miracle. Not a blessing.
A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.
There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.
And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.
The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.
It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.
Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.
It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.
He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.
"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."
Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.
Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.
"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"
That got him to scoff.
"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."
"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."
"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."
Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.
You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.
Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.
He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.
Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.
Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.
Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.
"Baba?"
Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.
Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).
"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."
His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.
"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"
Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.
The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.
Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.
His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.
"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.
Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.
Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.
"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"
"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."
Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.
Only two of those three succeeded.
"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"
There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.
"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"
Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.
Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.
He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.
"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."
And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.
He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.
and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.
"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "
"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"
Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?
No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.
When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.
Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.
Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.
His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.
He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.
The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.
Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.
Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.
"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."
Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.
"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."
The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.
"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.
"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."
He didn't wait for further inquiry.
"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."
His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.
"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.
On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.
The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.
"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"
The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.
After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.
Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.
"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."
And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.
Maybe.
If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.
Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.
Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesnât like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.
**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms
Yet you do, and now heâs got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. Heâs on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged
Until he learns that youâre with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -
She inherits his genius.
Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.
Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idiaâs daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetectedâŚand your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your familyâs apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX âlivelyââŚ.hahaâŚyeah
No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.
But letâs not derail. Even if he didnât want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.
It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.
Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him sheâ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -
âMAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDYâS BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!â
Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldnât. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.
Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.
âNonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!â He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, âLook! Look Iâm not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -â
And then she did.
The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game whoâs been training for this moment for decades.
He should have known.
Honestly. Idia canât even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.
He is the one who created this monster.
Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.
He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.
âYour her father, not her friendâ his mother said.
âItâs bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - donât you dare get lenient with her at this ageâ you warned.
âThat child scares meâ he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.
âHwee hee hee! Iâm glad you think so, daddy,â she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, âhehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?â
Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.
âU-uhâŚyeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and Iâll put an order in.â
He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if fatherâs were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didnât seem important
As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.
No. He wasnât that badâŚ.was he? Did he even want to know at this point?
Boom
âDADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!â
No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.
He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.
He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.
Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.
A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.
In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.
Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.
And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.
Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.
âFather?â
Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleusâ study. He neednât look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.
Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.
No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.
None had permission for such rudeness.
No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebekâs care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first princeâs personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.
Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.
âHm? You look troubled, my sonâ Malleus met his eldestâs rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didnât bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.
His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleusâ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.
âBecause I am troubled, fatherâ he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.
âOh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such mattersâ - to anyone who didnât know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.
Yet it was merely a father sulking for his sonâs attention, in his own prideful way.
âThatâs precisely the issue,â his son huffed, âwith all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! Itâs disruptive!â
Malleus merely turned the page in his book, âand whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?â
His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.
âWhat else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,â Malleus looks up from his âreading,â and gestures to the uniform his son wears, âWhat else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldnât dare to deny my entry.â
âFather - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -â
âThey looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -â
âThey were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.â
The boyâs composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.
Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his sonâs explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.
So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.
âYouâd be foolish to assume she didnât try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.â
At that, the lamp ceased itâs flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teenâs cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.
"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.
"You know with certainty that it was."
A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? âMommaâs boyâ? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.
The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.
After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.
âIâm sorry for not writing homeâŚor visitingâŚI hadnât thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.â
âDistance?â Malleus balked, âDistance from your family?â
He couldnât understand why his child would want distance.
How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.
His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.
Whatever explanation for his manners didnât matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?
Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.
âYes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-â he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldnât be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, â- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I canât eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our familyâs standards, if I am homesick all the time!?â
It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleusâ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.
The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.
It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasnât pushed away.
âYou are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.â
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst x reader#twst imagines#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland imagines#riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#azul ashengrotto#azul ashengrotto x reader#vil schoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader
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