#I will fix and spelling in the morning I had a rough night and wanted something nice to wake up to. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starfinss · 11 months ago

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ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ — ʀᴏʀᴏɴᴏᴀ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: One Piece

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Roronoa Zoro + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,375

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

Storms were the worst.

You used to love them, before you became a pirate. You found contentment in listening to them; the musical sound of rain against the window, thunder growling overhead, lulling you to sleep. Peaceful. That’s what you thought of them. There was a certain kind of incomparable coziness that came with laying tucked into bed while a storm raged outside. You were inside, warm and dry, in your own little bubble of warmth.

But that was then, and this was now.

You knew you were in trouble when the sky had been blood red that morning, indicating the coming storm. It was just like the old mariner’s rhyme said, though thanks to Nami, you now knew the science behind it. Something about how the red color came from high water content in the atmosphere. You couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said.

Science or no, storms spelled trouble for sailors of any kind, even the kind that engaged in certain illegal activities such as piracy. Life was easy when the water was calm and the weather cooperated. Storms were a complication, and this one was no exception.

The low visibility, torrential rain, and rough water forced the Merry to dock at a tiny island town you didn’t even catch the name of, with you and the other Straw Hats left to find a motel or some other form of lodgings, since the rocking of the ship was making it hard to even stand up straight, let alone fall asleep.

And that led you to now. Drenched and miserable, and standing in the shabby lobby of the town’s motel.

“A room for six, please.”

The clerk looked at your captain for a moment before speaking.

“For six, sir?”

Luffy whirled around, counting the group out on his fingers before facing the clerk again.

“Yep,” he said, and even unable to see his face, you knew he was grinning. “Six. One bed should do.”

Nami looked at Luffy in askance, clearing her throat.

“Sorry about him, he’s an idiot,” she said, “how about six individual rooms?”

“A waste of Berry,” Luffy countered, waving off the navigator, “just give us the biggest bed you have.”

Nami sighed, running her hand through her hair, which was plastered to her forehead with rainwater. Your own was no different.

“Luffy, there’s absolutely no way we can all fit in one bed,” Nami said, then turned to the clerk, “we’ll take six rooms, if you have them available.”

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased with Nami’s much more reasonable request, turning his back to the group to check a clipboard.

“We have five available, miss,” he said, “four with singles, one with a double.”

A hush fell over the crew as you took in the information. You chewed your lip. This was fine. You could just share with Nami. You were both women, so it made sense that way. Plus, you knew she didn’t snore, so you’d get a comfortable night’s sleep. You were just about to say something about this when Luffy beat you to it.

“Who wants to share with me?”

Nami didn’t even look at him. “Not happening.”

Luffy wilted. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

Luffy looked offended. “I’m great at sharing beds!”

You figured this was as good a time as any to bring your idea up. “Nami—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Nami said, more to Luffy than you, “you guys figure it out. I need a shower.”

“Wait, Nami,” you tried again, but she was already turning away, disappearing down the hall after collecting a key from the clerk, leaving you dumbstruck.

Usopp gave you a look of sympathy. You appreciated that, even if it didn’t fix anything.

“Let her go,” he said, “she’s the one who navigated us through the storm to this island. She deserves her own bed.”

He was right, but that didn’t remove you from the awkward spot you were in. Your wet clothing was starting to get cold, and you were beginning to shiver, so it was suddenly less important who you may end up sharing with.

“I’m still okay with sharing,” Luffy said, oblivious to any awkwardness, “anyone?”

You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to share with Luffy, and no offense to Usopp, but you weren’t all that keen about sharing with him either. He was your friend and you cared for him, but being that close in proximity with him would just be awkward. Sanji was similar in that regard.

And that left Zoro.

Zoro was different.

You weren’t entirely sure how to define your relationship with the swordsman. It didn’t start off as smooth sailing, for lack of better terms. From the moment you met, you were constantly bickering. He was just as hard headed as you were, resulting in anything from petty spats to full blown arguments. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, though it was hard to tell just who was what in that regard.

Then the ‘incident’ happened, and things got even more complicated.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. You were too tired to deal with stupid feelings and the way Zoro’s eyes were boring into the back of your head. He had to be thinking exactly the same thing as you, and the thought of that simultaneously pissed you off and made your stomach twist in confusing knots.

“I’ll take one for the team,” you said, breaking yourself from your thoughts, “one of you shares with me. It’s up to you which one it is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Without another word, you grabbed the key to the room with the double from the clerk, stalking off down the hall.

You jammed the key into the keyhole, stepping inside the room after you reached the door. It was a small room, a little shabby, but clean enough. The bed was on the left wall, centered beneath a painting of either a whale or some kind of indistinct mythical creature, you were unable to tell. The wooden floor was covered with a well worn striped carpet. The far wall was mostly taken up by a lumpy-looking red sofa, as well as two windows, both rather small and covered by threadbare curtains the color of watered down mud. Everything in the room had a sort of well-used air to it. As you entered, you got rid of your boots, leaving them by the door to dry out.

All you’d brought along was yourself and a small rucksack with a nightdress you’d grabbed from your things, as well as a fresh change of clothing for the morning. You were starting to smell like fish and brine, so you made your way to the incredibly cramped bathroom connected to the room, quickly peeling off your clothes.

Your skin was cold as you turned on the water in the standing shower, and you shuddered as you stepped under it. Thank God for the hot water. You half-expected it to be cold, which wasn’t uncommon in backwater motels like this one.

There was a half-full bottle of shampoo, seemingly left over from the last guest, and you hesitated to use it, but you also didn’t want to go to bed smelling like the worst parts of the ocean, so you squeezed some into your palm, lathering it into your hair.

You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly who would follow you into this room. You groaned inwardly, your forehead thudding against the tile wall of the shower. You blamed that stupid jammed door for all of this. You blamed the idiot at the bar who hit on you, and the alcohol, and everything that led up to you being trapped in a closet with Zoro while bounty hunters trashed the building looking for your crew.

Because that stupid series of events were what made you realize you had feelings for Zoro. And now things were weird.

Silence filled by bickering was left empty and awkward, and the way Zoro kept looking at you when he thought you couldn't see didn’t help at all. Neither did the way his hands would linger on your waist if he passed you, just a brush of his fingers, sending electric shocks up your spine. And neither did the way he’d rest a palm on your thigh when you sat beside him at the dinner table. Nami was the first to notice the shift, though it was Sanji who deduced that something had happened between the two of you when you were shut in that closet, not that you’d ever tell him what it was, despite all his prying.

And something had.

You remembered the buzz of alcohol fading as you bickered aimlessly, pressed closer than comfortable as Zoro struggled with the door. You remembered the way you snapped, something about how confusing he was being, and then he was gathering you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours, and how he’d crowded you against the wall behind you soon after. You remembered how his hands felt, drifting down your body to grab at your hips, how his tongue tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking before, and how just his touch alone made you feel like you were losing your mind.

He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

That was one week ago. You’d been in the kitchen, fixing yourself a sandwich late at night when Zoro appeared with the same idea. It started with you trying to bring up the closet incident, and ended with you caged against the countertop by Zoro’s arms, his mouth hot against yours, your fingers in his hair.

And that wasn’t spoken of, either.

You wanted to talk to him about it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. You’d tried to approach Zoro about it, only to either chicken out, or end up with even more questions. It was incredibly strange, not only because it was out of character for Zoro to beat around the bush, but also because he seemed just as awkward as you were about it all.

Maybe this would force his hand, you supposed. Or maybe he’d ignore you, though that was unlikely for obvious reasons, and you’d end up spending the night in the same bed as Luffy or something.

Through the thrum of the running water, you heard the door to the main room open, then close again. You couldn’t hear anything else, however, and whoever had just entered didn’t bother to announce their presence, but you were already pretty sure you knew who it was. You took a breath before turning off the shower, wringing out your hair before stepping out.

You toweled yourself dry before finger combing your hair, making sure to get rid of any knots before putting on your underwear and pulling your nightgown on over your head.

You opened the bathroom door, pausing briefly when you saw Zoro sitting on the bed, busy unlacing his boots. He turned to look at you when you entered, clearly intending to only spare a glance, but his gaze lingered, doing a full sweep of your body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging the bottom of your nightgown down further.

You shook it off. This was fine. You had him alone now. He had no way of escaping the discussion that needed to happen.

With a breath, you circled the bed, sitting down with your back to him.

“We need to talk,” you said, “no more avoiding it.”

Zoro said nothing. You heard a soft thud as he tossed his boots away, followed by the rustle of fabric.

“Zoro,” you said, “I’m serious.”

“Can we do this another time?” He said, finally, and you sighed, annoyed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it right now.”

You turned around to face him finally. He was standing now, and wearing less clothing than when he’d first entered the room. His shirt was gone, as was the haramaki he usually wore. The latter was laid out on the nightstand alongside his swords, the former clutched in one of his hands. You didn’t blame him for taking it off, it was surely soaked with rainwater, but him being shirtless really wasn’t helpful at the moment. Infuriatingly, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“I don’t care,” you said, “you haven't ‘felt like it’ in two fucking weeks. We made out, Zoro. Twice. Plus… everything else. That happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”

“We did,” Zoro said, crossing to the bathroom. He left the door open as he wrung his shirt out into the sink, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, “we talked about it. Are we done?”

You rose to your feet, arms crossed. “No. I need to know why. I need to know what that meant.”

Zoro turned to face you, leaning back against the sink basin. “What do you think it means?”

You tossed your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. You kissed me. Both times.”

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant, his face as impassive as always, though something about him was unmistakably smug. “I did.”

Zoro folded the shirt over the edge of the sink, moving to lean in the doorway. You cleared your throat, taking a step forward as well.

“Is that a problem?” He continued, eyes lifting at the corners in taunting mirth, “it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“If it’s this easy to acknowledge it, why didn’t you talk about it at all? You got jealous, Zoro.”

Another shrug. Then a scoff, a near laugh, as he pushed off the doorframe to cross over to you.

“I did,” he said, “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Don’t tell me you’d rather have been in that closet with that stupid drunk rather than me. Or that you’d rather be with someone else in that kitchen. Or, y’know. Everything else.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

A flash of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “So you liked kissing me?”

You avoided his gaze, displeased with the way he’d taken control of the situation. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

But you didn’t get to finish. Because before you could even finish being annoyed with him, Zoro was grabbing you by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to yours. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but it still left you speechless and reeling.

“And what about that one?”

You blinked, your thoughts a jumble of nonsense. “Still not the point,” you managed, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Zoro, this isn’t—”

Another kiss, deeper this time. You gasped in surprise, fighting back the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Stupid, infuriating man, doing stupid, confusing things to you. You pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him gently, just to get a word in before he pulled you back in.

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you want?”

“You,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck it. Fuck this, fuck him. This stupid moss-headed moron was messing with you, he had to be, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you, crooked and devious, like the cat that got the cream. He liked seeing your confusion and uncertainty. He’d just been waiting for this, for you to snap. You stared at him furiously and wild-eyed before it was your turn to pull him in, your mouth colliding with his.

Zoro’s hands rose to cup your cheeks, then shifted down to land on your waist, and you were moving, back colliding with the wall beside the bed. He tasted like whiskey again, which was puzzling since he hadn’t had any to drink that you knew of, though, knowing him, he probably had a flask stowed somewhere.

It was almost a relief to kiss him, like a salve being applied to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from crying out as his hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing, his knee pressing at the close of your thighs. Zoro had been like a cat before, playing with his prey. Now he was going in for the kill.

But two could play at that game.

You slid your hands down from where they’d been folded behind his neck, flattening against his strong chest. Your fingers trailed down the defined muscle, pressing into the dips and curves of his abdominals, finally catching on the waistband of his trousers. Your thumb dipped into the ridge of muscle at his waist, nail scraping gently against the warm skin, and you felt him shudder, breath catching.

His hand caught your wrist, with no particular strength, but enough to warn you of what you were getting yourself into. You responded by taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging gently before linking your mouths together again. You knew what your were doing, and you knew what would happen if you riled him up more.

That did it. Zoro sighed against your mouth, a slow release of breath that seemed to display his rapidly fraying restraint, especially as you twisted your wrist free of his grip, fingers trailing up his sides, making him shiver. His grip on your hips tightened, the fabric of your nightgown bunching between his fingers, causing the garment to ride up, but you hardly cared, not when his knee was slotting itself between your thighs, pressing flush against your clothed cunt.

The slow, easy grind made you gasp into Zoro’s mouth, hips twitching, but he was holding you down, firm against the wall, still an utterly infuriating tease, even now. You retaliated by palming him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and he broke the kiss to look at you, breath heavy, gaze heated.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He warned, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” you shot back, defiant.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, his lip catching between his teeth as he fought a smile, and it was then that you noticed his face was flecked with countless freckles, a constellation across his cheeks. Absently, you wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

But the thought was ejected from your mind as he was kissing you again, tongue pressing into your mouth, and your fingers found his hair as he pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. Then his hand was between your thighs, broad palm against your clothed center, fingers pressing against the rapidly dampening fabric, dragging so slowly that it made you crazy, but his opposite hand was still holding you in place, unwavering, even as you squirmed in his hold.

Zoro’s fingers slid to your clit, pressing through the fabric of your panties, making you gasp into his mouth, the sound devolving into a low moan as he pressed again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. He kissed you deeper, slower still, making you arch into him as his hand tightened its grip on your hip, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up higher, then sliding beneath to touch your bare skin.

Fuck, the feel of his palm, rough and worn and calloused, against your flesh, it felt like perfection, and your body twisted as his fingers pressed against the bend of your waist, his touch like a simmering heat.

“Touch me,” you blurted, muffled by his mouth, and he pulled back to look at you, amused.

“Aren’t I already doing that, doll?”

Your defiance was draining away more and more as the seconds ticked by, especially at the sound of his voice. It was a low, rough sound, husky and heated, and it made suffocating arousal shoot down your spine. It was almost embarrassing just how quickly he’d gotten you like this, only with his hands and stupid, smart mouth.

“You know what I mean, jerk,” you shot back, but he simply chuckled, fingers sliding away from your clit to press at your entrance, pushing the fabric of your panties against your heated skin.

You squirmed, but he held you still, his grip like iron on your body. You felt his breath against your skin, making you shudder, one hand gripping at his wrist, the one between your legs. His mouth brushed against the curve of your shoulder, dragging up the column of your throat, teeth grazing the spot just beneath your jaw, and you almost felt lightheaded.

His fingers pressed against your panties again, aided well by the wetness that was soaking through the fabric, causing your body to jolt in his hold, back arching against the wall when his index finger circled your clit again.

“Zoro,” you gasped, fighting for control, “please.”

“Please?” He rumbled, “‘please’ what?”

Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he pressed down against your clit. Fuck, how were you already so wet? His mouth skated down your throat to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin before you felt his tongue dart out, dipping lower, towards the top of your already low-cut nightgown.

“Just take them off,” you blurted, head swimming, “do it properly.”

Instead of doing what you said, he simply pushed the fabric aside, but before you could counter, his fingers were dragging along your cunt, teasing, and you let out a low whine. His mouth attached itself to your throat, teeth sinking into the tender flesh and making you cry out. His tongue smoothed over the spot he’d bitten before repeating the action.

Slowly, his fingers sank inside of you, and your hands were grasping at his hair, making him groan against your skin, a sound that only riled you up further. He moved away from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, and when your eyes fluttered closed, he crooked his fingers inside of you, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, “don’t look away.”

A flush of arousal flooded your system at the request, and you realized how much of a struggle fulfilling it was as he began to move. His fingers were able to reach much deeper than your own were, not to mention that they were thicker. The slow, almost tortuous pace he’d adopted made the friction of his rough palm against your clit even sweeter.

Gasping, breathless, your hands curled around his forearms as you clambered for any kind of purchase, anything to keep you anchored. Your eyes were still locked with his, leaving you unable to hide the flush on your cheeks, the desperation in your gaze.

His eyes were growing wild. Famished and dark as midnight, his gaze slid down your body to what he was doing between your legs, and you watched in rapture as his lips parted, drawing a shuddering, stricken breath at the sight. You squeezed his arm, forcing him to look up at you.

“Don’t break your own rule,” you said, voice heated, and amusement flashed on his face.

“Minx,” he countered, palm grinding against your clit, and you let out a startled moan.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

You groaned, both in pleasure and in frustration. “Then go faster.”

He chuckled, full lips pulling into a roguish half smile.

“Oh no,” he said, fingers curling inside of you, making your back arch, “I intend on taking my time with you. You have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you make me feel? I wanna savor this.”

His thumb moved to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, and you bit your lip to muffle your gasp of pleasure. This was embarrassing. You were so defiant before, but some pretty words and his stupid, pretty hands were enough to make all of that crumble.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bite back.

One of your hands slid down his chest again, fumbling with his belt before tugging it off. He was already hard, something evident through the fabric of his slacks, and when you pressed your palm against him, you got the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

You tugged at his button for a moment before it came unsnapped, then pulled down his zipper before reaching down past the fabric, palming him through his underwear. He shuddered under your touch, a muscle in his jaw tensing as you explored, breath coming out in a sharp burst when your thumb ran over his clothed tip. His eyes briefly flicked away from yours as you focused on that spot, rubbing in circles, making him grunt, and when you pressed down, ever so gently, he groaned.

“You’re making it hard to focus,” he said, and the way he was looking at you was almost predatory.

You looked at him through your lashes, causing his breath to hitch. “Good.”

Finally, you pushed his underwear down, tugging him free and catching him in your hand.

Fuck.

He was thick. Your fingers only barely met as you wrapped your hand around him, and his length was worth mentioning as well. Six and a half inches, you’d guess, maybe even seven. It was oddly pretty, too, with a pink flush. He was a good deal bigger than anything you’d been expecting, not that you thought about Zoro’s dick with any kind of frequency.

You took him into your hand, rubbing at his leaking tip, smearing precum with your thumb, an action that made him groan. You stroked him slowly, just as slow as he was touching you, and you watched as he fought to keep his eyes on you, lashes fluttering. His jaw clenched, hips shifting towards your hand as you thumbed his tip, sliding your fingers down to rub the underside of him.

Zoro’s breath left him in a burst, hips twitching forward, the hand on your waist tightening its grip to nearly bruising. His fingers curled inside of you, making your back arch, free hand flying to grab at the back of his head, tangling into his hair. Your eyes were still locked, and you wanted to kiss him so badly, but you wouldn’t be the one to break, not when he was still going so slowly it was driving you crazy.

So you sped up. You knew you’d catch hell for this, but you decided that whether or not you’d be able to walk tomorrow was a problem for then, when your thoughts weren’t blurry with arousal.

You touched him in quick, even strokes, squeezing at the tip each time, and you got to listen to him growl, his hand slipping from your waist to press against the wall beside your head, fingers fanning out. You could tell from the quickness of his breaths that he was trying to keep control, and then he was speeding up, making you falter.

The curl of his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, creating a sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but really only aroused you more. Your brows pitched up, pressing together, because fuck, it almost burned after how slow he’d been going before, making you squirm, and his hand was grabbing at your wrist, pinning the hand that had been touching him to the wall.

“Eyes on me, darling,” he hissed, voice heated, “you wanted faster? I’ll give you faster.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting all the right spots, mouth just grazing yours as you squirmed against the wall, bucking your hips against his hand. He was playing you like a damn instrument, thumb firm against your clit, and he rewarded you with deep thrusts of his fingers every time you cried out. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your fingers knotted in Zoro’s hair, eyes half lidded, pleading. He groaned, low and rough, just at the sight of your stricken expression.

His hand left your wrist to run up your body, stopping on your clothed chest, and he pushed the fabric down below your breasts, causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. His palm pressed against a breast, and your breath shuddered. Your hips jumped when he gently squeezed, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples. He caught the nipple between his fingers, pulling, rolling it between them, and the sensation shot straight down between your legs.

You were close. It was almost maddening, how good it all felt, and you could hardly focus on anything but Zoro’s hand between your legs, and how you were grinding down into his touch, chasing your high. He let you do as you pleased, gaze downright famished as he watched your face twist in ecstasy. You let out a loud, desperate whine, a near sob as he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb on your clit, driving you into that desperate build that comes just before you tip over the edge.

“Zoro,” you managed, voice strained, “Zoro, please.”

He said nothing, only replying with a growl as he crushed his lips against yours, frenzied and hungry, and your nails dug into his scalp as he brought you to your end, sending you toppling over that edge and into oblivion.

You saw spots as you came, and he broke the kiss to watch your face, gaze dark as your head knocked back against the wall, hips bucking wildly against his hand, because it was all you could do not to scream, one of your hands slamming over your mouth, teeth sinking into your palm. You were squeezing around his fingers, spasms wracking your body, his name on your tongue like a broken prayer. Zoro pulled your hand away from your mouth, diving in to kiss you, deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he worked you through your climax and into the realm of overstimulation.

You were halfway towards a second orgasm when he finally pulled away, and you slumped against the wall, boneless, breath uneven and heavy. Zoro’s mouth pressed against the side of your throat, trailing up to your ear.

“Think you can handle more?”

You smiled, still breathless, looking at him through your lashes. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Tired already?” He taunted.

You responded by pushing off the wall to drop your nightgown off your body, followed by your panties. Zoro’s eyes raked down your figure, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then he was pulling you to him, mouth hot against yours. You could feel his bare cock pressed against your stomach, and his hands slid down your hips to your thighs, boosting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

His mouth trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to surely leave marks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your hips forward, grinding against him, and he moaned into your skin, his grip on your body growing tighter. He was growing impatient, you could tell. But so were you.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he husked, and you whined, pressing your hips against him once again.

“Then do it,” you said.

That was all it took. You were suddenly moving, tossed onto the bed, and you watched as Zoro slid his trousers down his legs before he was taking his place above you. His mouth was hot against you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, growing more impatient by the second, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So needy,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your jaw, and you arched your back, shifting your body against him, making him hiss between his teeth.

“So cocky for someone who was telling me how bad he wanted to fuck me,” you countered, “are you all talk, then, demon?”

His eyes flashed, thrilled and amused, and you knew you were in for it, but not one part of you cared. In fact, you welcomed it. Obviously just as impatient as you were, he was prying your thighs farther apart, his body slotting between them.

You felt his tip at your entrance, pressing forward, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he pushed inside, and fuck, even just that was a stretch. Your head fell back, breath uneven. You felt Zoro’s mouth against your neck, and he was pushing forwards just a bit more, making you whine.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “fuck, you’re too big.”

“Relax,” he urged, voice rough, “it’s too fuckin’ tight, you gotta relax.”

You took a breath through your nose, fingers knotting into the duvet beneath your body. You took another breath as he sunk deeper, the stretch bordering on painful, but you could take it, even if it felt new and strange.

Zoro’s face was flushed pleasantly pink, a sight that would be endearing in any other context, and you watched his teeth grit as he pushed forward again.

“You can take it,” he whispered, encouraging, “shit, relax, relax.”

You lifted your hips, allowing him to take hold of them, using them as leverage to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Zoro gasped, voice breathless and stricken, “fuck, that’s it, I knew you could take it— shit—”

His sentence was cut off by a loud groan, and you yanked him down into a kiss, appreciating how still he was being, despite his rapidly unraveling restraint, but you could hardly wait, even as your body protested at the unfamiliar feeling of being stuffed so full. You shifted your hips forward, your breath leaving your lungs in a sudden burst, and you heard Zoro groan in response.

“Move,” you gasped, “please.”

He gave a shallow little thrust, then another one, slightly deeper, and you felt his hands grip your waist as he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward, filling you once more.

You gave a choked, helpless moan as he thrust again, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life. The stretch was rapidly making your thoughts turn to nonsense, head emptied out, and not one part of you cared at all.

Zoro adopted a pace that had you rocking back against the bed, head falling into the pillows, and he was dipping his head down to meet your mouth in a heavy kiss. His hands found your legs, pushing them up to wind around his waist, shifting his hips back to an angle that made your head spin.

“Right there,” you slurred, “Zoro, Zoro, right there— so good.”

He gave a low, indulgent groan, his hands smoothing over your body, grabbing at your waist, tugging you flush against him before he was thrusting again, stuffing you full, forcing a sudden moan to fall from your lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, mixed with your breathy, bitten-off moans and his soft grunts, and fuck, you didn’t know it would feel this good. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time this happened, not when it was more than evident that what you felt for Zoro was far from one-sided, and certainly not when it made you feel like this.

Your nails dug into Zoro’s back as he fucked into you, and he gave a stronger thrust, breath shuddering. You watched a muscle in his jaw tense, twitching, eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him. His head dipped to connect his mouth with the curve of your shoulder, dragging down to your chest, and his lips pressed against your nipple. His tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, making you arch into him, squirming, and his grip grew tighter.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” he breathed, hips rocking forward, “how many times I imagined fucking you in that closet. You’re so fucking gorgeous, with that smart-ass mouth. And you love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this, too.”

You let out a shrill wine as he ground his hips against you, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, making him groan, and he was holding you down, one hand on your lower stomach as he shifted back onto his knees, tugging your thighs around his hips.

“I wanted this,” you slurred, back arching as he ground his hips against yours just right, “thought about it, too.”

Zoro’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you sobbed in bliss as he ground himself against you, the friction combined with the way he made sure to hit your clit with the base of his cock with every roll of his hips making it hard to even see straight.

You tossed your head back, whimpering, and you weren’t going to last, not when he was doing everything he could to make you writhe. Each thrust left your head empty, breath heavy and rough.

“Harder,” you gasped, “c’mon, Zoro, give it to me.”

You felt his hands find the backs of your knees, lifting them to your sides to use as leverage as he pushed deeper with a heavy groan. His mouth met your throat, and then he was biting down, but the pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, the two mixing into an intoxicating feeling. Deep, hard thrusts sent you into incoherency, and when one of his hands left your leg to press a thumb to your clit, you let out a whine of his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Zoro groaned, “you’re gettin’ close, yeah?”

You could do no more than nod as he took your body with abandon, your climax so close it was driving you insane. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he groaned in your ear as you bucked up against him. You were totally drunk on pleasure, overwhelmed. He was the center of your world at that moment as he thrust deep into you, the rough pad of his thumb working you into madness.

You bit down on Zoro’s shoulder, sobbing in bliss as your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a tidal wave. His name was the only word on your tongue as he worked you through it, repeating it like unholy scripture until you could do no more than whimper in ecstasy, nails digging into his back.

“Fuck— fuck!” You heard him cry, hips stuttering, “one more, do that again, I need to feel that again.”

And he was hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace turned borderline punishing, leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even protest, not as he worked your over-sensitive body to its very limits.

His nails dug into your thigh, a growl tearing from his throat as his thrusts grew erratic. Your head was empty, completely fucked out, thoughts filled only with jumbled thoughts of the man above you as he fucked you, deep and hard. You felt tears beading at your lash line as Zoro worked you towards yet another climax, and you yanked him down into a sloppy kiss in crazed desperation for as much contact as possible.

“Gonna cum,” you choked, “Zoro, fuck—”

“Do it,” he snarled, “fuck, do it, cum on my cock— yeah!”

You felt yourself gush on his dick, muffling your scream in the crook of his neck, vision spotty, and you knew you’d get addicted to this, addicted to him, but you knew neither of you cared at all about that fact, not when he was chanting your name, chasing his release as you squeezed around him in a vice grip. His pace was relentless, entirely indulgent, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Wanna fill you,” he gasped, desperate, completely undone, “let me, will you let me?”

Unable to form words, you only nodded, yanking him down into another kiss as he thrust all the way in, stuffing you completely full, moaning into your mouth as he pulsed inside of you, his hands bruising in their grip on your body. Heat bloomed inside of you, making you whimper against his mouth, and you slowly rocked your hips to help him through the euphoria of it all, something that made blunt nails dig into your flesh.

Together, you lay panting, breathless and undone, tangled together. Zoro broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing erratically, and it was a few tense moments before he was slowly pulling out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

“That can’t be a one time thing,” you said, after you found your voice, and Zoro huffed what may have been a laugh.

“Fuck no.”

A few beats of silence passed before the bed creaked, and another few passed before you felt a towel between your thighs, wiping you clean. Then, the blankets were being pulled back, and you were being tucked under them. Zoro climbed in shortly after, tugging you to lay against his body.

Silence passed some more, and you almost thought Zoro had fallen asleep before he spoke.

“You make me feel things I’m not used to,” he said.

You stole closer, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

“How long have I done that?”

He pressed his nose into your hair. “Since I met you.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. You didn’t like me when we met.”

“I did,” he said, “I’m being serious. You’re gorgeous and strong, and you know it. You don’t back down. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before for anyone. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I acted like an idiot.”

You smirked. “Hell of a time to tell me that, after you fucked my brains out. You had a crush, so you acted like a little kid on the playground, is that it?”

A snort. “Yeah, pretty much. Never said I was proud of it.”

You laughed, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“I feel the same,” you said, “when you kissed me in that closet, I realized it. You could’ve just asked me to get a drink, though.”

Zoro smiled. “Sure, I could’ve. But this was way more fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Teasing me relentlessly?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, several. But I’ll pay you back for that in due time.”

“Give it your best shot. I look forward to it.”

Idle chatter continued for a little while before you began to doze off. You felt Zoro tug you closer as you fell asleep, and for once since you started sailing with the Straw Hats, you were actually thankful for storms.

And, as you felt Zoro’s lips press against the crown of your head, you were excited for the future.

“You had fun last night.”

You turned to look at Nami from your spot at the front railings of the Merry, eyes slowly growing wide.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” she said, “play that game. But maybe try a little harder to cover up the hickies next time you and Zoro… spend the night together.”

Shit.

“Nami, I’m sorry,” you relented, “it sort of just happened.”

She snickered. “Usopp told me he basically forbade anyone from taking the room with you after you left the lobby.”

You put your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed. “Usopp knows?”

“He isn’t stupid, anyone could’ve figured out what might happen. The hickies are just confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what?”

You bristled at the sound of Zoro’s voice, stiffening when he crossed the deck to reach you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nami said, and Zoro smirked, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why else would she be walking funny?”

Zoro shrugged, nonchalant, still smug as ever. “I guess we’ll never know.”

And as he tugged you closer, nose pressing into your hair as Nami turned to walk away, you couldn't help but smile.

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spiralinghours · 13 days ago

Text

“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x reader fic

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scoops-aboy86 · 9 months ago

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I've had a terrible day, comment to ease my turmoil?

Oh, and towards the end of this chapter, “Luck can’t fix stupid” is just Eddie being hard on himself. He is a good boy who is trying his best.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 of the love spell no go au

By morning, Eddie wakes to find that he’s rolled over in the night and Steve has burrowed into his arms. Hair that smells of Eddie’s shampoo tickles at his nose, and Steve is warm. A tingling under Eddie’s fingertips where they’re draped across Steve’s back tell him that his healing spells are still working—maybe that’s why Steve is sleeping so peacefully that it’s already dawn.

Nancy was supposed to have woken Steve for his guard shift, probably hours ago. Huh.

Eddie wants to melt into this and soak it up, just in case he never gets another chance, but… there’s too much going on right now to get caught up in whatever this might be. Better to take a page from Steve’s book and let it be, hold his tongue and wait until they’re not dealing with an interdimensional catastrophe.

Careful not to wake the (beautiful, brave, captivating) boy in his arms, he extracts himself carefully from the bed. He can’t resist leaving a soft kiss on Steve’s temple before he goes, though, his heart clenching and expanding and basically exploding in his chest when Steve shifts with a sigh and presses his full body into the space Eddie just vacated, seeking the lost body heat and breathing deeply against Eddie’s pillow. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.

Instead of crawling right back into bed like he wants to, Eddie slinks out of the room and down the short hallway to the living room, eyes averted from the fleshy gash in the ceiling. Nancy is standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed as she stares up at it—but her eyes are clear, and she refocuses on Eddie as soon as he clears his throat.

“So, uh,” he croaks, throat still rough from sleep. “Watch system kinda broke down, didn’t it?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nancy replies, too quick not to be at least a little defensive.

Eddie peers past her to Robin, who is asleep face-down on the couch with his uncle’s scratchy wool blanket draped over her. “Not saying I blame you there, Wheeler, but. Did you try?”

After a pause, Nancy lets out a breath that seems to come from all the way down to her toes, stiff shoulders slumping just a little and world weary in a way that no teenager should have to sound. “No.”

He flashes her a brittle smile, because yeah, he gets it. The only reason he’d managed any shut-eye was probably thanks to Steve’s reassuringly steady breathing at his back. “Fair enough. Instant coffee?”

There’s only the slightest twitch of distaste in her expression (he’s betting the Wheelers can afford actual coffee beans and shit) before she nods. “Coffee would be great.”

Which kind of makes him feel like a waiter, but he did offer. Eddie puts his back firmly to the gate and pokes around the kitchen for a pot to fill with water, pours it into four different mugs once it’s come to a boil, and dutifully stirs in the shitty off-brand Folgers.

He sips his own somberly, pensive. All his life, it’s been drilled into him that magic is to be kept secret, cast in the shadows and never so flashy that it would draw too much outside attention. That’s what had gotten his dad locked up.

But this group already knows about magic, even if they only refer to it as such using dnd metaphors that are actually more accurate than they think. Hell, maybe psychic powers are just a different method of spell casting—that’s deeper into magic theory than he usually ventures to go, though, so whatever. Not important right now. The point is… they could all die. It’s a very real possibility, especially for Max, and Eddie’s seen how that goes twice now. If there’s anything he can do to help, he has to try.

Which means… he has to tell them.

After Nancy recounts what Vecna showed her, after they formulate a plan that makes Eddie’s stomach clench and roll with dread, Eddie opens his mouth and says, “Guys, I have to tell you something.”

They sit patiently if a little incredulously through his explanation. A little more credulously once he gives a demonstration, turning an apple from the Mayfield’s kitchen blue, then, purple, then neon orange, then back to red and slicing it down the middle into an even seven pieces without so much as touching it.

Dustin speaks up first, because of course he does—interrogating him about what offensive and defensive spells he knows, leading with examples that Eddie recognizes almost word for word from the Monster Manual. Lucas joins in after a minute, the boys’ enthusiasm snowballing until suddenly they’re drafting a list of things they want to see if Eddie can do.

It’s Steve who ends up putting a stop to that, snapping. “Hey shitheads, he’s not a show pony and he’s not going to do tricks just to satisfy your scientific whatever, alright? You wouldn’t do that to Eleven, we’re not doing it to Eddie.”

“Scientific method, Steve,” Dustin grumbles, but relents. Eddie shoots a grateful look to Steve over the kid’s shoulder, and the smile he gets in return makes his heart do a flip.

“I can’t do big shit like Vecna,” he cautions everyone, now that he can get a word in edgewise again. “But I can do smaller stuff. Protection charms on clothes, spells to make sure we don’t miss what we’re aiming for, that kind of thing. I can help, I’m just… not your point guy. I’m no Supergirl.”

Max snorts at the Supergirl part, but speaks up with a grave, “As the person sticking out my neck for this crazy plan, not missing sounds nice.”

That seems to clinch it. And next up, they need to stock up on weapons, so…

It was waking up to a cuddly Steve Harrington that did it, Eddie swears. That, and adrenaline from staring down the barrel of the balls-to-the-wall insane plan the group has concocted, because Eddie is surrounded by fucking heroes aparently. He doesn’t feel very heroic.

Because he says things like “It’s not exactly a car, Steve” with a devilish smirk, and not asking but telling Steve that he’s driving the stolen RV, the words big boy tumbling out like his mouth has a fucking mind of its own. And each of those times, Steve blinks back at him with something in those hazel eyes, which Eddie is trying so hard to tell himself he doesn’t know how to read, but he wants.

There isn’t time to do anything about it, though. When the RV’s rightful owners start banging on the door, adrenaline sends Steve leapfrogging into the driver’s seat and Eddie scrambling to get away from the windows so he won’t be spotted. They roar out of the trailer park with the kids whooping in the back, caught up in the adventure of it.

Eddie feels like everything is going wrong and about to get worse, but he’s felt that way ever since Chrissy died so that’s nothing new. At least Steve stays in the RV instead of going into the War Zone, even if it takes Robin pointing out that the entire high school had seen them talking at Eddie’s locker on Friday and some probably noticed them sitting together at the game—because yeah, Lucas had told them what Jason Carver had done to Gareth, and Eddie doesn’t want anyone else hurt because some vigilante jock thinks they might be harboring him.

“Sorry,” Eddie tells him after the others are gone. When Steve gives him a blank look, he adds, “That you’re a known associate of The Freak.” He nods towards the back of the RV where the two boys are wrapped up in a conversation of their own. “It’s bad enough that Lucas and Dustin are in the crosshairs, but they at least signed up for Hellfire.”

Steve frowns. “You’re my friend, Eddie, I don’t care who knows that. It shouldn’t even matter.”

“Dude, all of this shouldn’t be happening, but it is. It does matter. A hell of a fucking lot.” Eddie braces his elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

After a moment, a hand presses tentatively between his shoulder blades, shifting reassuringly up and down. It’s a big hand. Eddie is almost disappointed that he’s too upset to fully appreciate the contact.

As it is, he groans into his hands and shrugs the touch off. “Steve, I should… I have to tell you something.” And you might not want to keep touching me after you hear it, he doesn’t say out loud.

“What is it?”

Eddie lifts his head with a flick of his hair and a quick flail of his hands. “That was—I just cast a little privacy spell, if you were wondering. So the kids can’t eavesdrop.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly. “Do you do that a lot? Just do magic like that? Because, you move your hands around a lot…”

He can’t help but smirk a little at that. “Not as much as you’d think. It’s a good cover if I have to, though.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and curious, his irises a honeyed brown tinged with spots of green. “Have you ever used magic on me?”

Aaand there it is. Eddie looks down at his hands, now clasped across bare his knees where time and wear have reduced the denim to strings. “Yep.”

“Like what?”

So Eddie tells him about the love spell.

Magic, considering everything else Steve has seen over the past few years and especially the past few days, isn’t much of a stretch to accept. That trick with the apple had helped, but for the most part he’s learned to just push through the confusion and listen to whoever sounds the most certain about it.

And Eddie sounds pretty certain that he’s ruined Steve’s life.

But that’s… not right. His life doesn’t feel ruined. He has Dustin and Robin. Yeah, he keeps ending up in life or death situations, but that gives him a sense of a purpose and might have happened anyway, because it’s not like Eddie’s one spell back when they were underclassmen created Hawkins Lab or Henry Creel out of thin air.

A big part of Steve is elated, actually. Eddie likes him. Or liked him, enough to try and secure his heart with magic. Maybe that elation is from the spell, but honestly? The world might end tonight and any of them might die trying to stop it, so he’ll take any good feeling he can get regardless of where it’s coming from.

When he tells Eddie as much, the guy looks about ready to cry.

Before he can protest, Steve says, “I know you think you made me feel this way and that it’s like—” he frowns, unable to remember the way Eddie had put it “—violating my self-asomething-or-other, but fuck that. Your uncle said it wouldn’t have worked if I could never have liked you on my own, right? And I… In high school, people just hung around and I could never figure out why. Magic is as good an explanation as any, I guess. But with you, I had to work to get you to be my friend. I had to earn it. The more I got to know you the more I knew you’re a great guy, so by the time we were friends it felt like I’d really accomplished something, you know? You’re really nice, once you get past the prickly attitude—”

“Prickly?” Eddie mutters, quiet like he wants to interrupt but still feels a little too guilty to quite dare. Steve gets it; he knows how guilt can be, especially when it’s guilt for a stupid reason.

“—And you’re smart, way smarter than me. The teachers who failed you are either full of shit or bad at their jobs, probably both. You’re so creative it blows me away, keeping track of all that Dungeons and Dragons stuff and making up entire worlds and all the people that go in them. And you have a great smile, with dimples and everything, and your hands are… And the way you watch me sometimes, like I’m the only person in the room even if we’re in a crowd, it feels really good.”

Eddie is getting more red by the second, a flush starting in his cheeks and threatening to go all the way to his chest at the compliments. Which, okay, Steve knows he’s gushing, but he’s been bottling all this up for a while and he’s not used to that. When it comes to love he’s usually an all-in kind of guy, and holding back had led to a quiet but snotty breakdown in Robin’s arms the night before.

… Damn, he’s going to have to admit that she was right about Eddie being into guys (into him), though.

“Steve,” Eddie says, and he sounds longing. Music to Steve’s ears.

“I wanted the championship game to be a date,” Steve blurts. Because he’s already mentioned Eddie’s dimples and his hands, might as well go all in.

Eddie’s blush intensifies, the start of that dimpled grin Steve loves so much on his face. “I… I did too.”

“So… after the game, when you went off with Chrissy…”

“That was just business,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve ducks his head to try and hide the relieved grin. “I mean, I wanted to help her, but I’m, uh. It’s always been just guys for me.”

“It’s both for me,” Steve tells him, glancing up through his eyelashes. He notices the way Eddie’s hand twitches, wanting to reach out but unsure, so he reaches over and tentatively lays his fingers over Eddie’s ringed ones. “Is that… okay?”

Eddie bites his lip, and just as tentatively twines their fingers together. “Y-yeah, I think so. This is—Shit, yeah.”

“Would it make you feel better if… I don’t know, is there a way to turn the spell off?”

“Not really, magic doesn’t—” Eddie starts, but then stops, frowns. “Uh. My uncle did teach me something to undo magic once, but it’s a whole… thing. Like pulling a ripcord on a parachute, and, yeah, you stop falling as fast, but it jerks you around first. And it would ‘turn off’ every spell I’ve ever cast.”

Before Steve has a chance to react to that, they’re interrupted by the rest of the group crashing back into the RV. Steve is up and barely even registers the remnants of Eddie’s privacy spell clinging to his face like invisible cobwebs. He spots Jason Carver out of the corner of his eye just before pulling out of the parking lot and, fuck.

The rest of the day is too busy and tense to speak to Eddie alone, and Steve has a creeping worry (which he tries to ignore) that maybe Robin is right; maybe they aren’t going to be okay this time.

Eddie doesn’t get to have nice things. Like an unbroken family, or a high school diploma, or Steve Harrington.

He knows this. It’s deeply embedded in the reason he chickens out at the last minute, shaping his possible last words to Steve into, “Make him pay.” In that moment where their eyes had met he’d felt every loose thread, every unspoken thing between them weighing on him like a ton of bricks, and he regrets everything. Even though there hadn’t been time. He wonders if Steve regrets not saying whatever was on his mind back at the trailer, while the water was running… And from the way Steve looks back at him before nodding and turning to go, Eddie thinks he can hear the hollowness in it.

Steve has similar hollowness, Eddie knows. Parents whose attention has always seemed to ghost right over him ever since Barbara Holland, leaving Steve to drift all alone in that big house until he felt like a phantom. They know these things about each other; they’ve talked about it all while high (everything except the Eddie wanting Steve part… and, apparently, an entire alternate universe full of monsters). And Steve gets it, even though Eddie wishes he didn’t. Wishes Steve’s life could be easy streets and clear sailing (ha, ahoy) so that Eddie wouldn’t have to feel so seen, stripped bare of all his armor.

Even his battle vest is still in Steve’s possession, hidden under the thick army jacket.

And it’s ironic, really, that Steve thinks he’s the stupid one but Eddie forgot about the goddamn air vents in the trailer. There isn’t really a spell to protect against that; luck can’t fix stupid.

So he does the best he can think of, if it can be called thinking at this point: flings a stealth spell at Dustin so the bats will be more likely to forget about him, cuts the sheet-rope, and bolts out the door. He grabs a bike and pedals as hard as he can, just trying to get away, and in the blankness of his panicking-in-overdrive mind an idea begins to form.

When one of the bats gets caught in the spokes and Eddie goes down, he’s up almost immediately and spitting the words Wayne taught him when he was still small—before his uncle got custody but after his mom started getting sick, when Eddie’s dad had first started getting reckless.

The swarm of flying monsters descends on him while he’s still screaming the spell. After the last syllable, bleeding and knocked around by the attack, the ripcord pulls and Eddie is slammed into darkness.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth

Part 9, part 10, part 11

#scoops words #love spell no go au #wg steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #the big magic reveal to the group is kind of underwhelming next to the threat of the apocalypse #it's as good a time to sneak it in there as any #instead of steve talking to nancy about his six little nuggets dream in the woods again he tells robin about the love spell #boy couldn't keep a secret from her if he tried

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gh0stlyfixation · 2 years ago

Text

The Love of Us

Part three

I started editing this then started adding more stuff so editing took longer than expected but here you go!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, oral (male receiving) soft!dom reader, sub König. Probably a lot of grammar and spelling issues, I’ll come back and fix those later❤️

Part two - Part four

It was the following day of your night out with Ghost-Simon. Your alarm goes off signaling another day of your job, another day seeing Simon.

Oh god, oh god. OH GOD! I rubbed myself on him! I came on Simon!

You wanted to avoid him, embarrassed that you even did that not knowing him for more than 48 hours. Who does that? But at the same time, you felt extremely comfortable with him. You didn’t feel ashamed of what you did, sure your husband died a few months back and you went over a year with no sex or any ounce of pleasure but you were caring for your dying husband. It’s okay, your okay.

You felt a little ashamed in your husbands name, but you can’t die a sad life, he even said in his last days “don’t stop because of me. Your young, live your life.” You’d live by his words, honor them.

But Simon meant König, and that meant two at the same time. Two loves, two people, two co-. Okay! Stop it, you yell at yourself, covering your head underneath the blankets not wanting to start this day.

Your second alarm went off, “ugh! Okay!” You yelled at it ripping the covers from your body.

You stuffed your dress and makeup bag in your purse and slipped on your slippers. You looked at yourself in the mirror and did your hair at least, thank god you didn’t have patients today, it was just an office day. Your pink plaid PJs hung low and your tight-fitted long-sleeve shirt was crooked. You fixed that then looked for a bra to throw in the purse and a sweater to hide your breast.

Simon was awake well before you were. Simon could never get a full night's rest if König wasn’t around. Usually, his nightmares would consume him. Simon finally gets out of bed after staring at the clock, his only motivation to see you.

Simon kicks his legs over the bed and rubs his tired eyes, checking his phone for any missed calls he hadn’t noticed, missed call from König. He decides to call back

“Hi!” Königs chirpy voice spoke. “How are you?” He asked. Simon sighs and König knows, “nightmare?” He ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Simon speaks eventually.

“I should be back tonight, missions going as plan. How’d last night go?” König ask trying to take his mind off things.

Simon does smile lightly at remembering last night, “she got drunk. She’s very truthful, she likes us both so far.” Simon says, “oh, she came on my thigh.” He adds.

“WHAT!” König yells through the phone. Simon laughs, “oh my god.” König says in disbelief.

“She looked pretty doing so, anyways, when will you be home?” Simon says, changing the subject and making König sweat.

“Oh, um-,” König stuttered, “leaving in a few hours. Probably be home around 4 pm. I want to take Y/N out. Maybe around 7 pm?” He says

“I’ll let her know big guy. Can’t wait to see you.” Simon says as they bid their goodbyes. Simon finally stands and thinks back to last night and how you took charge so easily as if you’ve done that before. Were you more dominant? Or just drunk? You didn’t dominate him anyways, you were just assertive, marking claims. He huffed, what then if you are? He needs to know.

—

It’s ten o'clock in the morning when you finally arrive at work, your coworkers snicker at you as you explain that you had too much to drink last night and barely had the energy to come in. You took out the accessories and eyed the dress and decide to just put a bra on and not leave the office for the entirety of the day, lights low, aspirin near.

A few hours later anknock at the door was heard and then it opened. Simon stood at the door, looking around your room and chuckling at the dim lights. He closed the door and then pulled shades to the window up making you groan, then seeing your PJ pants and top, “rough night?” He asked, mocking you.

You mimic him, “rough night?” And held a smile on your face. “I think you know,” you say

“I had a good time, I think you did too.” He said, leaning on the edge of your desk.

“Hm, I did.” You say. “Did you tell König?” You asked bashfully

“What? That you made a mess on me?” He asked, teasing you.

You rested your head in your hands, “oh god.” You laugh.

Simon laughs, “no need to be ashamed pretty girl.” He says, “König wants to take you out tonight when he returns, around 7?” Simon ask.

You smile, “okay. Tell him it’s a date.” You said hiking a leg up into your chair to cross, looking back at your computer to update more files.

“Can I ask something, a little weird?” Simon says, suddenly shying away, something he never does, what the fuck? He thinks.

“Go for it. I’m an open book.” You encouraged seeing his hesitation.

“Last night, I couldn’t help but notice the way you were so assertive, as if you’ve done something like this.” He says, not knowing how to word his question.

“Well I was married so I’ve done the deed quite a few times.” You tell him, confused by what he’s trying to ask.

“No, like, you in a way dominated me, you know, that type of assertive behavior.” He says looking at the wall of your degrees hiding his embarrassment.

“Oh! That’s because I am a dom technically.” You say with a shrug.

Simon snaps his head at you, his eyes darkening at this information “What?” Is all he says.

You notice the look in his eyes, he doesn’t like the idea of it, “My husband was a sub and technically I’m a switch but my husband wasn’t, so I was a dom.” You explain, “a softer dom though.” You tell him looking down at the papers in front of you.

It's silent for a few moments before you look back up at him, his eyes are back up looking at your degrees, silently impressed by your accomplishments, “ever thought of submitting?” You ask quietly, almost afraid to ask.

He shakes his head no, then looks at you and crosses his arms, “no, not sure how I’d like it. Never tried it, plus König likes to be submissive.” He says.

“We could try it one day when you're comfortable with it of course. Can’t knock it until you try it.” You shrug. Simon doesn’t respond, but instead he lifts you off your chair causing you to squeal and giggle and he placed himself down onto your chair and you into his lap. Your legs dangle on the side as you sit sideways on him. “Can I take off the mask?” You shyly ask.

He nods and you remove it slowly and readily his face, “so handsome.” You say kissing his cheek. You get a better look at him and noticed how tired he is, “did you not sleep well last night?” You asked.

You didn’t know the severity of his sleep schedule, “no,” he simply says with a sigh.

“Want a nap on my on-call bed?” You ask pointing to the bed on the side of your room. He sighs again, “it’s okay. I won’t let anyone in.” You reassure him. He nods, feeling safe in your environment. You kiss his lips and stand up off him. You make the bed and he gets in and inhales the scent on your pillow, he loves it. You cover him up after he takes off his boots and give him another kiss on the forehead. His eyes flutter shut soon after, he loves the care you give him.

—

It’s later that night. Simon picked up König from the base after walking you to your car earlier that day, “thank you for letting me use your bed,” Simon says.

“Anytime, I’ll copy a key for you to use my office if I’m not there, both you and König are welcome to use it.” You say planting a kiss on his masked cheek. “Tell König I’m excited and can’t wait to see him.”

“König, you look great. Don’t worry, she’s excited to see you.” Simon said rubbing his arms in reassurance. He pulls König into a kiss, “your a gentle, caring, soft-spoken man, she’s gonna love you.” Simon says, and König lets out a breath of air he’s been holding in, nodding.

—

You pull over a black dress that flowed down to your knees. König was taking you to a fancy steak house in the city. You hop down your stairs giddy with excitement holding your heels in your hand.

After spending over a year caring for your now-deceased husband and then mourning him, you felt happy. You looked at the wall of your wedding photos and smiled, maybe it’s time to take them down? They haven’t been up long since I just moved here. You talked to yourself. This weekend, don’t ruin your night Y/N. You decided.

A knock was heard at your door and you ran to it as lightly as you could so König didn’t hear, but he did and he stifled a laugh at your excitement.

You opened the door and were met with Königs uncovered face. This was the first you’d seen his handsome face, Simon made you wait but König was told by Simon that no mask may be better.

“Your handsome.” You say instead of hello. You take in the little scar on his neck and forehead. He blushes and shies away. You grab his hand and hold it, “Hi, König.” You said smiling at his bashfulness.

“You have a nice home.” König said nervously, “large,” he added.

You looked around your front porch, “I wanted to find my forever home for the future. It was perfect.” You say and lock the door. König silently hoped you’d be in his future on this said porch.

You and König sat at a corner booth in the back with dim lighting. You spoke light chatter as the waiter brings you your drinks and takes your order, “tell me about yourself.” You say.

“Well, there’s not much on me. I’m from Austrian, but part of the German Armed Forces. I have family back home, and a sister.” He says quietly but enough for you to hear.

He was beyond nervous, even with Simon's constant reassurance, “Simon said you had a mission back home and was visiting family, how’d that go?” You ask placing your elbow on the table to hold your head up giving König your full attention.

“Okay, I suppose. Mission went smoothly, my family, not so much.” He frowns as he fidgets with the napkins.

“Oh?” You ask him.

“They aren’t very supportive of me and Simon, only my sister is. They live in the old generation, they always hope I’ll leave him and move back home to them. That’s not going to happen.”

You frown, “they don’t accept you? Why do you continue to visit them?” You ask.

He shrugs, “mostly for my sister. She’s lovely, she’s always stood up for me. I suppose if she ever moves here I’ll never return to my parents.” He says. “As awful as that sounds.”

“Well, I think you're great. You and Simon are cute together and just in three days, I’ve grown to like you both. I do hope we can go somewhere with this relationship and it works. After John's death, it was a black cloud around my head. So I moved and I never thought I’d meet a guy, let alone two.” You say.

König makes a move and pulls you closer holding onto your hand, “I like you a lot.” He says. You smile as you look into his eyes, they sparkle with happiness. “May I kiss you?” He asks.

You nod and König gently kisses you. You kiss back and place a hand on his cheek. He pulls away and smiles, “I like you too.” You say.

The food comes and you eat in comfortable silence, taking sips of wine and giggling at little jokes he tells, no doubt learning them from the other soldiers around him.

“You know Simon doesn’t normally let people in his life. It took a few years just for him to invite me over.” König speaks about Simon.

“Oh?” You asked a little surprised wanting to know more.

“Yeah, when I was transferred over I couldn’t tell if he liked me or hated me. He has this stare and he would just stare until you left the room. So I am surprised that he’s so affectionate with you..” He tells you.

“Sounds like he was interested in you since the beginning, or had a severe starting problem.” You giggled.

He smiles with you, “What I’m saying is, he’s affectionate and good to you, but he does have dark days where he is uncharacteristically, mean. Well towards the people he likes.” König informs you.

“I’ll keep it in mind, he’s doing good so far, I guess. I’ll learn as I go. What about you?” You ask holding his hand.

“Just a lot of anxiety, severe anxiety, some days are good some are bad.” He says with a frown. “What about you?” He asks you.

“Can get depressed sometimes, since my husband passed away.” you also frown.

“I’m sorry to hear, what happened?” He asked sincerely.

Simon must’ve never told him, “cancer. Had it for a year before it took him. We married young, right out of high school. Wasn’t the greatest idea but we were in love and crazy.” You shrugged.

Finishing up your meal, he drives you home and walks you to the door, “want to come in?” You asked.

König grows nervous again, “It’s alright if not. I just don’t want you to go yet.” You said with a slight frown. “I’m having a good night.” You pout trying to get him to stay.

“I’ll stay!” He said a little too quickly. He walks in behind you and looks around his new surroundings, “it’s lovely.” He says. It was a big home, to the right of the foyer was your office with glass French doors, to the left was the dining room with a medium size chandelier and straight ahead he could see the living room with an open kitchen. A large tv is mounted onto the fireplace.

“Thank you.” You say as König looks around, getting comfortable. He sees stairs down the hall that lead to the upstairs. “Want to watch a movie?” You ask him.

He nodded as you take off your heels and walk into the living room. you had a large sectional, at least a 6-piece, and the tv tilted slightly down at a comfortable height. König also takes off his shoes and walks towards the couch.

You walk off the kitchen after turning on the tv to fire it up and get it ready. König realizes he hasn’t checked his phone for Simon.

“How’s it going?”

“Well?”

“You better be making sure she has a great time or it’s over for you.”

“Your killing me König :( “

König smiled, "we’re at her house. Gonna watch a movie.” König replied.

“;)” Simon says making him chuckle and put his phone away.

Simon truly was a gift in his life. He remembered when he met Simon, he silently felt okay around Simon because he too wore a mask. Simon was silent and observant most of the time, always staring someone down or telling Soap his jokes were shit. But König noticed his stares more, they were directed at him. Simon couldn’t help but be intrigued by the giant mask man. He was silent and lurked around, but König never knew. König thought Simon hated him, his anxiety never helped his thoughts when Simon was around. He did like Simon, he liked how he ordered everyone around, and he liked his mask and his eyes.

König never was in a relationship with a man or woman, his anxiety was just too much, and the relentless bullying from school. It wasn’t until Simon couldn’t stand it anymore trapping König in a supply room that they both realized they had feelings for one another and they both were scared. They’ve been inseparable since.

You come back with a glass of wine and water for König, “I noticed you weren’t drinking tonight so I brought you water.” You say.

König nods and looks at the walls, picture frames of nature, and you on your wedding day. Your husband holds you closely. “That was John,” you say. “I’m thinking about taking them down tomorrow. Start new, maybe place one of my friends painting up.” You shrug as you sit next to him.

Be looks at you and his eyes drift around your body. He gets a good look at you. Your hair is now in a ponytail and your dress is raised a little higher on the thighs.

“See something you like König?” You ask with a smirk.

“I-uh,” he stuttered looking away. You get closer to him lightly grasping his hand, “may I sit on you?” You ask. He nods and you straddle his lap you pull back and smile, “a little birdy told me something.” You say.

König got worried, what did Simon say? He wonders.

“Told me you like to be dominated.” You said trailing your finger down his neck, “just so happens, i’m a dom. Funny how that works.” You say with a grin.

König whimpers when you say this, “don’t worry, I’m pretty nice.” You said before attacking his neck. You leave kisses and light marks so Simon could see your work.

He lightly pushes you away, you’re afraid you’ve gone past his comfort zone, “I’ve never done this, um, with a woman before.” He shyly admits. He felt almost embarrassed.

You soften your gaze, “it’s okay. Leave me to do the work and if it gets too much, stop me. No questions, I stop. Okay?” You ask. He nods, “I need words, my sweet boy.” You said with a little more dominance.

“Yes,” he says as you grind your core a little on his growing bulge.

You continue to rub onto him as you did on Simons thigh, except you weren’t doing it for yourself, you wanted to pull an orgasm out of König, one he hasn’t felt from Simon, one from a woman.

König moaned then whined when you suddenly stopped. You slipped down off him to the floor, getting on your knees, “Is this okay?” You ask him playing with his belt. You wanted to make sure.

“Yes, ma’am. Please.” He whined more.

“Such a good boy, using his manners,” you praised and he moaned, “you like that? Do you like being praised, and being told how good you are? How perfect?” You questioned, he moods frantically, “yes!” He says.

You undo his belt and tug down his pants and underwear and his cock springs free, it’s huge, and your mouth waters. It’s girthy and long. You wrap your hand around it and it barely wraps around, you have to use both hands. “So big, such a big boy. My big boy.” You moan and you slowly stroke him.

He bucks his hips slightly in your hands then stills and looks at you with wide eyes, “it feels good, m’sorry, didn’t mean to move.” He said, the fear that you’ll pull away.

“I’m not mad, accidents happen. But try to be a good boy,” you say sweetly. Simon must be meaner in bed for König to worry.

He once again nodded. You slowly stroke his cock with both hands, you move your lips to his thighs and lightly suck on them leaving marks, you can see him struggling to sit still, “please,” he begs.

“Please what? What do you need?” You asked still going at a torturous pace with your hands and sucking closer to his balls. He can feel your breath on them.

“I need your mouth, m’please, i’ll be good, swear it.” He says, sounding dumber, begging.

“Mm, since you asked so nicely.” Your say, moving your head to his tip, you give it one long swipe with your tongue

“Oh god! Please,” he moaned

You start to sink your mouth into him slowly, sucking lightly and swirling your tongue around his shaft. He was huge and it was no doubt your jaw would be sore later. König placed his hands down next to his thighs trying to find anything to hold onto besides your head, wanting to be your good boy.

Your mouth took almost all of him, the rest not going down unless you deep throat him and you wouldn’t give him that pleasure yet. You used one hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t and bounced your head sucking harshly now. König was a whiny mess gripping the couch cushions cover hard.

After a few minutes, you come up for some proper air, “your being so good at controlling yourself. Do you want to fuck my mouth? Want to stick it down my throat? Because I think you deserve it.” You say with a sweet voice

“Yes! Yes please! Can I hold your head, please? I just wanna bury my hands in your hair.” He begged.

“Of course my sweet boy. Just wait for my single.” You sink your mouth back over his cock and take him all the way a few times before tapping his thigh. He slowly bucks into your mouth making sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He holds onto the back of your head, gripping your ponytail lightly.

Once he’s comfortable enough, he starts to Buck into your throat faster. You reach down to his balls and pull and squeeze them encouraging him to keep moving. His breath is labored, “oh my Liebling, feels so good.” He says giving you a new nickname.

He goes at a bruising pace no doubt your throat will be sore. You feel tears run down your eyes for holding back your gag reflex. He starts twitching, “please! Can I come? I need to come ma’am!” He cries out. You squeeze his balls harder, the pleasure becoming too much for him. You tap his thigh twice and he stills in the back of your throat squirting his seed.

You swallow every last drop and you bring your head up and look at him. He saves the sight of your face mentally. Mascara is ruined, you have spit all over your face and some of his semen on the corner of your lips. He swiped some of it on his finger and brings it to his lips looking at you. “You okay?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered pulling you up to him. You cuddle up to his side and pull his boxers back up but keep his slacks down so he can be comfortable. “What about you?” He asks, feeling bad.

You wipe your face with a throw blanket on the side and fix your hair. “I’m good, just want to cuddle.” You say, pulling a blanket up. You feel his side vibrate and he pulls out his phone,

“Updates, I’m dying here.” Simon texted.

König smiles and shows you, “can we take a picture and send it to him?” You ask. He nods and you both smile. You can tell your face was freshly fucked. He sends it and he immediately responds

“My two favorite people” he texted back.

“Pretty girl looks a bit messy.” he texted again

You smiled and gave his phone back. He tossed it somewhere on the couch and pulled you close, you pressing play on the movie you both never started.

How did I get so lucky?

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whosthere54 · 9 months ago

Text

Me? Writing about THE Prison Duo? In this economy? /lh

Yeah I wrote about the guys at 4:30 in the morning you should expect nothing less from me :)

Anyways if you want to read it it’s here. I feel like it’s too short for Ao3 but y’know how it is. Ignore any spelling and grammar errors I tried to fix them but like I said it’s like 5:00 in the morning so…. *Shrug*

Enjoy :)

-=+=-

Their hands shook as they placed ingredients on to the trays. They were brewing potions, not really because they needed them but more as an anxious habit of theirs. Better to be prepared than not, right? They tapped an anxious rhythm into the quartz, listening to the soft hum of the blaze rods to try not to focus on the ringing in their ears or their too uneven breathing.

They jumped slightly as their communicator buzzed in their pocket. It was late… early? They didn’t know at this point. But it was a time where they didn’t expect messages from people.

They open their communicator to find a message from Centross.

Centross

Hey, Ic. You up by any chance?

Their brows furrowed slightly. Why would he be asking for them in the middle of the night?

You

Hey, yeah. What’s up? You okay?

He’s on and off typing for a few moments, causing their wings to flare anxiously. Their tail swished sightly and and they fidgeting with their goggles that were sitting around their neck.

Centross

If you’re not doing anything, want to meet at the Tree?

You

Coming. You okay?

They don’t get a response this time. They sigh, running their trembling hands through their hair a moment to steady themself. Their potions could wait. They took off from their potion area, landing at the tree in a small spin. They hear the sound of Fireworks, and Centross lands (not as gracefully) next to them.

He looked rough to say the least. He looked exhausted, dark bags noticeable under his eyes and his hair was disheveled. He gave them a weak smile.

“Hey, you okay?” They ask again.

“I’m fine.”

Well that’s a lie.

They sigh, and gesture for him to follow them. They walk out of the little grove out into the Forrest. There’s no destination in particular, and they walk in silence for most of the time.

“… wanna talk about it?” They ask gently. They don’t want to push if it’s something he doesn’t want to talk about. He just sighs and nods.

“Okay. I’m here to listen.”

He rants to them as they walk, mentioning nightmares, and the souls. They just listen quietly, giving input when necessary and nodding to show they were paying attention. He sighs, and they sit in silence for a moment before Icarus stops walking. He stops behind them a confused look on his face as Icarus turns back towards him.

“Do you… want a hug?” They offer softly.

He paused for a moment, but nods.

“Yeah… yeah that would be nice…”

They move forward to pull him into a hug, running light fingers through their friends hair. It was nice. Centross relaxed slightly, his head resting against the crook of their neck and arms wrapped tightly around their waist. Their wings move to wrap around him as well, acting like a sort of blanket or shield for the man. Their tail resting lightly against his legs.

They felt him smile at the action, his hand tracing light shapes where it rested between their wings. They stand in silence for a while, just staying like that. They listened to the trees, the wind whistling through the leaves, the animals that passes through the Forrest hidden around them, the vauge sound of water from a river a bit away.

He backs away after a while, a soft half smile on his face.

“Thank you.”

They smile back. “Course. I’ll always be here, whenever you want me. I’ll always listen.”

He hums lightly, nodding. They stand in a comfortable silence for a bit before he speaks again.

“That goes back to you too y’know. I’m always here.” He murmured softly, crossing his arms lightly over his chest.

Their smile falters slightly a moment, but their expression was returned just as quickly as it had fell. They nod. His brows furrowed slightly at the action, but he brushed it off.

“Wanna keep walking? Maybe a distraction? We can build or farm or whatever you need. If you want help with something around your house…?” They offer. He shakes his head with a smile.

“Nah, we should head home. You need to sleep too, friend.” They weakly nod, knowing they wouldn’t be getting much of that anyways. They walk back to the tree, talking about anything and nothing, the light banter that they could always have. They reach the tree, and they turn to face Centross again.

“Alright, go on and head back to your boyfriend asshole.” They say, lightly hitting the man.

“Get some sleep dumbass.” He smiles, nudging them back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, friend.” He turns and sets off a firework as he flies back home.

They sigh, face falling just slightly as they watch him fly away. “Bye Centross.”

-=+=-

#fable smp #icarus morningstar #centross #idk what im doing

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adoracora-elizabeth · 6 months ago

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But Papa! Why? Chapter 55

Robert woke up with a terrible headache. With a moan, he pulled himself up. The curtains were still closed. He saw a glass of water and some painkillers on his nightstand. Cora was an angel he thought. He tried to remember what he did last night, but it was blurry. He could only hope he had behaved himself towards her.

With another moan he put his legs over the edge and sat up, taking the painkillers that were waiting. He proceeded to go to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. He opted for a cold shower, making sure he would be presentable for Cora. Why did he let himself become this drunk? It had been absolutely useless, although he had fun together with John, the amount of alcohol was a bit too much.

Somewhat refreshed after the cold shower he changed into his normal clothes. He opted for chino pants and a thin jumper. He was a bit chilly, even though the sun was doing its best outside, he saw when he opened the curtains.

Robert walked towards the kitchen and saw Cora in one of the lounge chairs in front of the sliding doors. She sat cross-legged and was reading a book. He could only half see her due to the large backrest, but he spotted her glasses on her face. A big smile appeared on his face. If it were up to him, she would never wear her lenses again. He felt heat creeping up, just imagining her face with those glasses.

He contemplated for a little while if he should say something or first get some food in his stomach. He opted for the greeting of Cora first. She did not hear him coming close, so when he slid his hand over her arm, she got startled.

"I am sorry darling. I did not mean to scare you." He said apologetic.

A big smile was present on Cora’s face when she looked up "That is alright. I just did not hear you, this book has me in its spell." She lowered the book while placing the bookmark between the pages. "How are you feeling?" Her hand brushed over his cheek.

"A bit rough, but that is my own fault."

"You had a lot of fun and that showed when you came home. But I am glad you have John as your friend who makes sure you get back home to me safely."

Robert smiled softly. "He is a good friend, indeed." He sat down on the arm rest. "Thank you for the painkillers."

"I figured you would have a hangover in the morning, so I prepared." Suddenly she turned her body towards him. "Did you already take them?" Her eyebrows raised high.

"Of course I did," Robert answered confused why she was surprised by that.

Cora got up from the chair, her book almost fell on the ground. "Then I will fix you some breakfast really quick."

"Cora, please sit down. You were enjoying a calm morning. I can make myself a breakfast in a minute."

"You need to eat right now. It is not good for your stomach to take painkillers without any food in there." She quickly walked towards the kitchen, and while she passed him, she lovingly brushed with her hand over his stomach.

Robert followed a bit slower; his head was pounding when he moved too fast. He was glad that Cora was going to make him breakfast, he was too tired to make something proper. With a sigh, he sat down on one of the barstools. "The downside of too much alcohol."

Cora cracked an egg. "White or brown toast?"

"Brown should be the healthy choice, right?"

"Hangover breakfast is not supposed to be healthy is it not?" Cora smiled.

"White it is." Robert drank the orange jus that Cora put in front of him. He looked up with a surprised look. "You made this fresh?"

"I did. I need to take loving care of you. Duties of a wife." She winked.

"Soon to be wife." He replied.

Cora put his plate in front of him. "What time did you want to leave today?"

Robert had just put a spoon full or beans in his mouth. "Leave?" He muttered.

Cora sat down opposite. "You forgot?"

Robert gave her a pitiful look. "I am afraid I am. Even you mention that we should leave any time today does not ring a bell."

"We could go tomorrow morning, but I thought it would be fun to go tonight, so we had the whole day at Downton tomorrow."

Robert put his hand against his forehead. "How could I forget. The house is finished, and we will make the final decisions on how to decorate for our special day."

"I am glad you at least remember, when you are reminded." Cora smiled, while getting up to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"We should pack our stuff right now and leave as fast as we can. Maybe we can go and ride out with the horses?"

Cora's smile faded.

Robert grabbed her hand. "Cora? Did I say something wrong?"

Cora wrapped her fingers around Robert's hand. "I would love to go and ride with you, but only on one condition."

"Tell me, what condition did you have in mind?" Robert asked clueless.

"You will not try and jump over any ditch or pull another stunt to impress me."

This made Robert laugh. "I promise. It is also not an event I would like to repeat myself."

"Although I loved the time we spend together in Dower House, I was worried sick when you fell and did not respond to me."

Robert pulled Cora close and wrapped his arm around her waist. "We could just go to a wine-tasting in the area. There are some vineyards in Northeast England." He looked up to her face and saw her smile fade again. "Not a good idea?" He asked, pouting.

Cora felt guilty, she gave Robert the wrong impression, but could she tell him? She was not even sure if she was pregnant. But if she was, she should not drink alcohol. She sighed. "I love the idea, I truly do. But I am not sure if I can drink alcohol."

Robert was silent for a couple of moments, then he looked up again and a wide smile appeared. He put one hand on her abdomen. "Are you? Are you pregnant?"

"Maybe, I am not sure yet. I am late, normally I am very regular, but not this month."

"But you are still taking the pill? You did not stop, did you?"

"Of course not!" Cora said indignant. "I would never do that without talking with you first." She tried to step backwards.

"Sorry." Robert strengthened his grip on her and made sure she stayed close to him. "I did not mean to say that you made this decision on your own. I am just surprised you could be pregnant." He brushed over her abdomen. "But I would love it when there is a little one growing inside you. We should buy a test and find out."

Cora's face softened again, and she leaned against his hand with her tummy. Her own hand resting in Robert's neck, her fingers playing with his hair. "We could buy the test on our way to Downton. You remember when I had that stomach flu?"

"Why do we not go and buy that test right now and do the test before we leave? I really want to know if you are expecting."

Cora pressed her lips on Robert's, he eagerly answered. "Let’s go and find out if we will have company on our wedding day."

+++

"I never realised how long five minutes are." Robert said while he nervously looked at the test strip laying on the bathroom counter.

Cora did not react, she stared at the strip. She could not be pregnant, she was just late, but no other symptoms. She had not been ill in the morning, no changes on her body. It was not possible that this test would be positive. She felt guilty for telling Robert, now he was all excited and hoping on a little one, and here she was going to disappoint him. She should have kept it to herself, this was selfish of her.

"I am sorry." She muttered.

Robert's head shot in her direction. "For what?"

"What if this test is negative?"

"Then we will go on and wait for the time that we are ready for it and want to start our own family."

"You think we are not ready for it?"

"I am not saying that my dear. I only say that if this is a falls alarm, that it does not matter. Than we will have to wait for the day we are going for it."

"I should not have told you, now you are hoping for a little one, that is probably not growing inside of me."

"Stop this sweetheart. I am glad you shared this with me, now we can do this test together. When the test is positive, we will be happy. When the test is negative, we also will be happy. We have each other and the day for our own little on will come."

Cora looked down at the ground. She heard Robert's words, but she could not believe he meant it. The way his eyes started twinkling when she mentioned that she could be pregnant, made her scared for a negative test.

She was shaken from her mussing by the alarm of Robert's phone. "It is time, do we look together or do you want to look first?" He asked.

"We should look together." Cora answered.

Robert took the test from the counter and turned it towards them. The strip showed just one line. "Not pregnant." Robert said softly.

"Not pregnant." Cora repeated in a choked-up voice.

"We will start trying for a little one for real. You could stop taking the pill and we will try harder."

Cora felt a tear drip over her cheek.

Robert put his hands on her cheeks and softly kissed the tear away. "Our little one will come. This is just not the time. And this only means we can practice a lot more, before our time is taking away by a little one."

This comment made Cora smile a bit. "I love practicing with you."

Robert kissed the tip of Cora's nose. "The good news is you can drink as much wine as you want tonight."

"I will do that. I will definitely do that." She pressed her lips on Robert's once more. "I love you so much." She murmured against his lips.

#cora crawley #downton abbey #robert crawley #downton #fanfiction #cobert

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pbandjesse · 7 months ago

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I have had a migraine for hours and hours. It is finally starting to go away. But it was kind of a rough day because of this head ache. But I tried hard to not let it ruin my whole day.

I slept weird last night. I woke up in the middle of the night all confused and in pain. I let myself sleep an extra half hour. James was there and being sweet. They had to leave for work a little before I did. But I got myself together and headed to camp.

It wasn't a bad drive. And when I got there I went right to the art building. I would spend my first hour or so resetting the fibers boxes because Sarah will be leading a few different programs next week and I want it to be easy for her.

This would take me a while. But once I was done I would do some general cleaning. I can't wait until summer to clean the building for real. But it's very hard with all the tables and chairs stored in there.

I would set up for my bead program later in the day. And I made a small bead lizard to add to my bag. I checked outside and saw that everyone else was in now so I would pack up what I was doing and drove my car down there to park for the day.

It was a nice morning. I would spend a little time emailing and looking at some stuff. Joe would come ask if we could move some paint for him. And once I was done typing up my list of program things for Alexi, me, Joe, and Sarah took the gator to the lodge.

Sarah got rid of the recycling while I moved the paint, and Joe checked the aed. And after that I worked on putting away some of the art in the bedrooms down there. There wasn't time to hang them before the wedding this weekend so we wanted to make sure it was at least neat.

We all were supposed to go on a walk to discuss program areas at 1130. So I would eat some of my lunch before it was time. And it was a long walk. Almost 3 hours! But it felt productive.

I think one of my issues is that I don't know what is possible. Both in what can be changed to the landscape of camp, what we are budgeting monetarily, and physically what we have the manpower for. So this was eye-opening. Talking about taking down trees and leveling the ground. It was honestly really interesting. And for the first time in a bit it felt like we were making real, tangible progress on what we want to have done this summer and an idea of what we want for next year too.

Me and Sarah were getting pretty tired. I'm sure everyone else was too but me and her were commiserating about it. At least at the Adirondack and at the lodge we could sit down. But my attention was waning and I wanted to go eat before our late 4pm programing.

I would go and help feed the chickens during this walk around. And had trouble catching them to give them a hug. They are not being socialized enough and are super skittish. I hope Sarah and Chloe work on that, since this was their idea. They are very pretty chickens though and I enjoyed holding them.

A little after 230 we were free. And I went to eat but then I was texting James to check in about our flight on Sunday. I had been asking about the meal on the flight and how to request a vegetarian meal. And Paul didn't know. So I started looking into it and that is when I discovered they spelled my name incorrectly on my ticket! I freaked. I was franticly texting James, who was apparently in a meeting and away from their phone, for the next hour because they won't let me on the plane if my ticket and passport don't match. And I worked myself up so bad. I was so upset.

James would get back to me and called Paul and he said he will get it fixed. I hope it's as easy as he thinks it will be. I had to reset and calm down. My head was hurting so bad from stress and probably dehydration. But I had to pull it together.

I didn't feel like myself. I still don't really. But I tried to be pleasant event if I wasn't as loud of a personality.

The group today did an 8 mile hike and we're exhausted by the time it was time for our programs. So I had a much easier time getting some of them to come do art. And we were making bead lizards. And they did so good. Some tried to do the more intense and complicated things and I was so proud of them. I worked to make sure I could help when needed. And I gave away the lizard I made. it was fun. A good hour.

Even though my head hurt.

I was ready to go home. Getting them out of the building was tough but it was fine. I chatted with the chaperones a s we all got the table clean and then we were off.

I stopped at the office and said goodbye to everyone and went home.

The plan was to get James and we would go pick up their tux and we would get dinner and then we would go drop off our new key with Callie. A busy evening.

There was a lot of traffic. And when I got home there was no where to park. And I was stressed. I called James and they would just come out and take over and we would just leave right away.

My head hurt and it would only get worse. We started with the tux. And it was so good. I did not take a picture but James looked so handsome. The jacket was a little bigger on the shoulders then I'm used to seeing on my husband but they looked really good.

We left there and went to friendlies for dinner. Where we got sandwiches and fries and shared a fribble. That we discovered is a milkshake made with soft-serve. Sure. It was good and we had a lot of laughs. Even though my eyes were trying to pop out of my head.

It was decided James would take me home and they would run to drop off the key with Callie. This was the right call. I felt terrible.

Being home helped. I was feeling really nauseous and was afraid I was going to throw up. But I would take a cool shower and that helped a lot.

I sat on the floor in our room and drank water. And tried to perm my lashes. Very mixed results. My right eye went great. My left eye went terribly. But it is done and I think it still looks good.

Ja.ss got home and they would hang out downstairs and have the free ice cream they got from friendlys (they got rocking Poppin cotton candy with fruity pebbles on top. Which is objectively a hilarious name and combination for a 30 year old person). But once they were done they joined me upstairs.

Drinking water helped. And I am feeling a lot better now. Now I am just really tired.

Tomorrow should be a good day. And then tomorrow evening I'm taking a painted screen class at creative alliance and I'm really looking forward to that.

I hope I feel a lot better tomorrow. And I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourself.

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footloose-travel · 1 year ago

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Crossing into Alaska

When I talk to a person on the phone that I’ve never met I unconsciously form an image of what this person looks like. Without fail when I meet them I’m always shocked and surprised at how wrong I was. I had a preconceived image of what the Yukon was going to look like, with no real information. I was so wrong. I’d expected tundra, with low scrub for miles. It’s mostly heavily forested although we did see several places where there’d been major fires in past years. Made it to Whitehorse, in the Yukon Territory. People don’t realize the low population density of this territory. The Yukon is 10% bigger than California and has only 44,000 people living within the borders. The roads have been, for the most part, very good. Our next destination is Dawson City, with a book time of 6 hours. We decided to stop for the night at Carmacks that was only 2 hours from Whitehorse. The road remained pretty good. After Carmacks the road got intermittently worse. It’s the intermittent part that was the problem since we’d get comfortable moving at about 55 mph on a two lane paved road, then without warning there’d be a pothole or some other rough spot. The bottom line is we broke 2 plates (dishes), which we’ve never done before in 4 years in this trailer. There were sections of gravel and construction along the way too. We had a massive amount of dust/dirt in our dish drawer. It’s all part of the adventure. Dawson City came into being due to a gold rush that lasted from 1897 until about 1910. The buildings and the overall town look reflect that era. The streets in town were not paved, rather were a hard mud. We considered what the place looked like in the winter, but frozen mud is pretty good to drive on. After a couple of days we were ready to drive the “Top of the World Highway” to the Alaskan border, a distance of about 65 miles. On the morning of departure as I did my usual last walk around our trailer I saw we had a flat. I could change it or fix it, but the last thing I want is to be on said highway and have another flat, and no spare. So I removed the tire and with some difficulty found a place to remove the offending screw and plug the tire. Fortunately it never gets dark this time of year so that was a non-issue. After a short ferry ride across the Yukon River we headed down the road. This highway was originally a ridge trail, which is the easiest place to walk. After the initial few miles of climb up from the river the road was more of a roll along the ridge line. The book claims the road is “above the tree line”. Well, not quite. The trees were really small and we made it up to 4500 feet, a normal tree line for this latitude. The views were very scenic and road was always at least 2 lanes wide and composed of a fine gravel/course sand type material. With the exception of a few bumps this was an excellent road, just a bit dusty which we’d expected. The border crossing into the US was a non-issue, and the road after the border was primo, for a few miles. Then the next 30+ miles was potholes and rough road where we averaged about 25 mph until we reached the town of Chicken to the RV park we’d planned on. Chicken is REMOTE with no cell service and a census population of 12, but more during the summer season. In 1902 the local miners asked for a post office and needed a name. They wanted to call it Ptarmigan, which is the state bird, but nobody knew how to spell it! Ptarmigan is also locally called a chicken, which they could spell, and hence the town name. The dish drawer was again filled with dirt. Upon some investigation we discovered that the plastic trailer wheel well had become detached from the trailer sidewall and so was pumping dirt into that area. But we’re not going to get it fixed in Chicken, so the next day we drove on mostly paved roads, to the town of Tok. At the RV park check in we asked about getting the repair done and they referred us across the street. With a box of self tapping screws in hand the tech made it stronger than when it came from the manufacturer. Another problem solved followed by a major clean up. Made our way up to Fairbanks, with a population of 35,000 it’s the second largest city in Alaska. Overall we were not impressed. The rivers and military bases make it challenging to navigate around. Headed south into Denali NP but the weather was cloudy and rainy so decided to visit later in our trip. We have the Mile Post guide book, which gives you mile by mile what to expect to include rest stops, turn outs, and hazards. Charlotte had just read that a few miles ahead to be on the look out for moose. Always. Then a cow (female moose) jumped out in front of us as I hit the brakes. She ran down the road for a few awkward strides and jumped off into the bushes. Moose on this stretch confirmed! Even with the clouds the scenery is incredible. In some cases the clouds add to the effect. The 2 lane Parks Highway was in great condition with few road hazards. I look forward to revisiting this area later during our Alaska adventure. For all the photos see John and Charlotte’s flickr sites. Just click on either of our names.

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture. The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong. "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike. He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you. Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane. + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell. "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him. Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose." Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it. "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain. + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up. Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway. "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there. Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady. "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day." Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect." "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other. Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it. "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him. Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel. He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother. Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine. "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him. Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again. The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been.

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you. He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you.

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place. "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond.

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence.

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x cassian #cassian fic #cassian #azriel mention rhys mention #cassian x reader

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shootingstarwritings · 3 years ago

Text

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way.

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

#male possession #jock possession #possession #male body possession #slime possession

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

Text

Jerk

Summary: August sits alone in his office, thinking about the one he can’t have.

Prompt:

Hi. hope all is well my darling. the idea of august fucking his fist with animalistic rage because he’s all alone is currently living rent free in my mind:)

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1K

Warnings: 18+, male masturbation, lewd language, mentions of rough sex, degradation, anal and oral (both male and female receiving), depiction of bodily fluids and slight angst.

A/N: This is a bit different, I decided to write it from a 2nd person POV even though August is touching himself. It just felt a bit more erotic and intimate.

Please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed it. Your feedback is my fuel.

Title: Jerk

The arctic blue lustre spilt onto his hard face as he dwelled lonesomely in the dark. Still in his office, August sat next to his desk, his glassy eyes caressing your face through the pixels of the flickering monitor while his hand rested on his thigh.

A stream of desire stirred within his loins as he shifted uncomfortably, sulking back at your smiling reflection.

August Walker could have had any woman he wanted, and that he did. He fucked his way through each department, marking a green ‘v’ on their pretty little faces. He left them crying, broken inside, ruined, and unable to walk, but as he passed them by the morning after, it was clear as day: he gave them the best night of their lives.

But his spell was useless when it came to you. Colder than the bottom of the ocean, you never bothered offering him a smile - a demeanour made up of an icy wall.

Sensing the rage sizzling in his gut, he huffed and reached to massage his hardening bulge. The wide grin you wore on your face made his cock strain, further stretching the fabric of his trousers.

“One moment alone with me, darling...I’d change your mind,” he murmured into the night, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he further squeezed the swelling in his groin. “I’d show you what it means to be thoroughly fucked...to abandon all constraints and leave your shame behind.”

Eyes fluttering shut he groaned, imagining himself plunging into your ripe little pussy, fucking you solely with his tongue. The coarse hair of his moustache tickling your tender clit while his index finger teases the tiny virgin ring of your ass.

You would cry for him then.

“Fuck…”

The sudden hitch in his breath forced out a pant of frustration. Sucking his bottom lip, he opened his lust-ridden eyes and glowered at you with unrelenting desire. Giving no care, he made to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clinking abrupting the aching silence.

If anyone was somehow inside the building at this time of the evening... well, enjoy the fucking show.

Fingers snaking around his veiny cock, he tugged himself out, squeezing at the base with one hand while spitting on his palm to hastily lubricate himself. An untethered groan thundered at the pit of his chest while he spread the saliva across his flesh and focused on your beautiful neck. Slowly beginning to pump himself, August revelled at the touch of his own flesh and savoured on the obscene fantasies that gyrated in his mind.

“That mouth of yours, so hot...” He hummed while imagining what it would be like to stuff his entire length down that throat, have you lie down, submissive on his desk with mascara-tainted tears pooling on the wooden surface. Your pretty makeup all ruined while he fucks your mouth mercilessly, making you choke on it.

“I want to see my cock moving back and forth down your wet, clenching canal. I want to see your eyes red and full of tears.”

Low, growling moans flooded the room, August’s face curled with aching pleasure. Grip taut around his shaft, he stroked even harder and faster. Lewd squelching sounds emitted from the fisting of his shaft, the rapture birthing fresh new fantasies of you being completely shredded by him.

You just needed to be broken; and he would break you, bend you over, and smack your ass with the leather of his belt. You’d scream for him, begging and pathetic, but then arch for more, calling his name in a pleading whine like a cock-hungry bitch.

‘August, please! August, yes, put your big cock deep in me! I need you!’

Oh he’d give you what you want, force you to your knees, pussy dripping, laid out on display just for him: warm, wet, and begging for him to be inside you.

Beating on his flesh urgently, he could almost feel your cunt engulfing his fat cock, receiving every inch like a good little slut. His heavy sac slapping against your lips with each violent thrust as he bottoms out. He’d make sure you’d feel him there for days.

“I bet you’re extraordinarily tight down there…” he gasped, increasing the pace over the red, painful girth that swelled between his fingers. In the black theater of his mind he was fucking you so hard that your entire body shuddered. Battered, your little hole sucked around him as if it’s a gift from god and he could feel you clenching, feel you so close, reaching high for your bliss.

That’s when he’d pull out. Cock coated with your juice, he would slam into your ass without any warning, relishing on your broken howls.

Reduced to a heaving, sweaty mess, his grunts and desperate moans echoed across the hall. Balls clenched with eagerness, the undeniable, astonishing stream began to build itself within him to sweep him into sweet euphoria.

“‘I want to come inside you...I’m… gonna make....you mine!”

Tingling pleasure shot itself from the base of his organ, quickly spreading all through his length like a furious ocean. He felt it in his chest, gut, and even his spasming thighs - the ecstasy so strong he couldn’t help but shout out your name with the taste of heaven on his tongue. White ribbons of his seed coated the clenched fingers held around his twitching manhood.

Still catching his breath, he swallowed the uncomfortable dryness in his throat and lowered his glare to the mess at his crotch before fixing it back on the photo. You looked so happy and at ease, surrounded by the people you love.

‘They don’t deserve you,’ he thought. Especially not him, the man standing beside you holding up your hand to show the tacky diamond ring he put on it.

The last tendrils of his orgasm started to fade, soon replaced with a hollow sensation that permeated in his chest. Lifting his clean hand, he touched the screen and ran his fingertips to gently trace your beautiful face.

“I’ll make you mine…” he uttered with a quiver of his lips.

There wasn’t even a fragment of doubt floating in his racing heart that he’ll keep this promise.

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

Text

Day 55: Music

One afternoon Harry returned from work earlier than his boyfriend anticipated.

When he came into the flat, the sound of piano music drifted through the doorway and wrapped itself around him. The notes flowed together, floating around him and tugging at his gut, and Harry followed the music into the other room, imagining that Draco probably had the wireless on the old classical station that he liked to listen to when he got into a blue mood.

He was not prepared for his lovely partner to be sitting at a piano (that hadn't been in their living room that morning) with his back straight and fingers dancing over the keys.

He played with his whole body, and Harry was mesmerized by the way his hair long, blond hair swayed with his movement; by the way his long, elegant fingers stretched across the keys; by the way his hands seemed to move effortlessly over the keyboard.

He watched as Draco's body curved in on itself as the music got quieter, sadder; watched the way his presence seemed to expand with the music as it rose to it's climax. And he felt it all the way down his toes as Draco slowed the last few bars, his fingers drifting over the keys with great care, before landing on the final chord.

The last notes hung shimmering in the air and Harry's breath caught and held until Draco released the chord, lifting his fingers from the keys and foot from the pedal, leaving the room in silence.

"That was amazing," Harry breathed when he could finally call words to mind again.

Draco startled so badly that Harry feared he was about to fall off of the piano bench, "Merlin, Harry," he gasped, a hand clenched over his heart. "What on earth are you doing here?" he asked as he stood up from the bench.

"I live here," Harry replied.

"But you're early," Draco informed him, before casting a quick 'finite'.

Harry watched as the piano rearranged itself into the writing desk it had been earlier once more. "You play beautifully," he said.

Draco shook his head, "It's nothing."

"No seriously," Harry pressed, "You're so talented! I had no idea-"

"Yes, for a reason," Draco snapped.

(Read more below the cut)

Harry blinked, Draco didn't often use that tone with him anymore. They'd both worked hard to sand down all of their rough edges so they could stop carelessly cutting each other. They'd worked hard at communicating, at infusing the love they felt for each other into their words. He exhaled slowly.

"Sorry," Draco finally said, running his fingers through his hair, "It's nothing. Really. Can we please just drop it?"

Harry looked at him, looked at the desperate look on his face, and he knew what that felt like. When you weren't ready to talk about something that still cut you up inside. "Okay," he said with a nod. "But maybe not forever?" he asked.

Draco nodded once, "Maybe not forever," he whispered.

Harry gave him a little smile, "What are you thinking for dinner? I was thinking on my way home that I could go for some Thai."

-----------

It was six months before Harry managed to hear Draco play again, and not for lack of trying. As often as he could, he'd sneak out of work a bit early and head home, hoping to catch his boyfriend playing piano again but he didn't manage it.

Until the day that he forgot his lunch at home and decided to go home to grab it. He stopped dead when he opened the door because there was music drifting through the rooms again. Softer this time, sadder somehow. He tiptoed through the kitchen and into the living room, watching as Draco moved with the music and he was entranced once more.

Something must have given him away, because Draco's head shot up and he looked over at Harry. The notes faltered for a moment and Harry feared he was about to stop.

But he didn't, after a moment, he turned back and started playing once more, fingers drifting over the keys.

When the song ended, Harry couldn't help but whisper, "You're incredible."

Draco didn't turn to look at him, he stared straight ahead as he said, "When I was young, my parents insisted I learn an instrument." His pale fingers stroked lovingly over the keys. "All respectable, pureblood children learn an instrument. Even Greg learned how to play the french horn." He shook his head, "I hated it at first. The hours of practice, the lessons with the old woman who always smelled like mothballs."

An image of Mrs. Figg teaching piano sprang to mind but Harry didn't share it. Whatever Draco was trying to tell him was difficult for him and he didn't want to distract him.

"Eventually, I got quite good at it," he continued, and Harry could see that it was true. "I once told my parents that I might like to pursue music. They told me I was being ridiculous. My father said if I was going to play piano for a living, I might as well have been a squib and they might as well disown me."

"That's horrible," Harry murmured stepping closer and lightly resting a hand on Draco's shoulder in a sign of support.

Draco shrugged, "Not as bad as Auntie Bella," he confessed. "She heard me playing once and whatever it was, must not have struck her fancy because she came in and cast a spell that broke all of the bones in my fingers."

"Circe, Draco," he gasped, his hands unconsciously reaching for Draco's. He sat down beside him on the piano bench and carefully took his hands then pressed a kiss to each finger.

"My mother heard me screaming and came and fixed them immediately," he said, voice calm and steady as though this was all the most reasonable thing in the world. "But I didn't play again. Not for a long, long time. Not until we moved in here, actually," he added with a little smile.

"Why here?" Harry asked, looking around at the tiny flat they'd moved into together.

He cupped Harry's cheek and traced his cheekbone with his thumb, "Because there's so much of you here," he murmured. "Because you are music. I spend every moment I'm with you composing in the back of my mind. Songs for when we cook together, songs for when you wash the dishes, songs for when we clean the flat, for when you wake me up in the mornings just as the sun's rising. Songs for our nights together, for our fights with each other. Songs for the way you kiss me, the way you hold me, for the way you make love to me." He shook his head helplessly, "You are music, Harry."

Harry's hands cupped his face and he drew Draco's lips to his, kissing him breathless because he didn't know what he was meant to say. He didn't know it was even possible to feel this much, to love someone this much. "It's completely unfair," Harry murmured against his mouth.

"What is?" Draco asked, drawing back slightly to look at Harry.

"You have your beautiful music, and your beautiful words, and then I'm just completely awful at this."

Draco laughed, "What do you mean?"

"Just," he huffed, "I think that I made out a lot better than you in this relationship."

He shook his head and leaned in to brush his nose over Harry's, "Don't be ridiculous. I see it on your face and feel it in your touch; in the way you cast warming charms on my side of the bed before we get in. I feel it whenever you hold my hand when we're walking down the street, like you're proud to have me by your side."

"I am," Harry grumbled.

"I know," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Harry's lips.

When Draco pulled back, Harry asked, "Does this mean I can hear you play more often?"

"Only if you get me a real piano," Draco replied. "The weight of the keys is always wrong when I transfigure it."

Harry called out sick from work and went out to buy a piano that afternoon.

----------------

Day 54: There Was Only One Bed | Day 56: Phone Call

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #my writing #day 55 #thanks for the prompt!#Enjoy!

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myonepiece · 4 years ago

Text

Perospero, Zoro, Sanji with a s*icidal S/O

Description: a few HCs about how he would act with a depressed S/O

Warnings: death, s*icide, self-harm, angst

A/N: Sorry for the drab theme, I’m in a bad mind space tonight and I felt like writing something to distract me and hopefully maybe cheer a few people up a bit- so this is just a quick scribble of some thoughts pls ignore any spelling mistakes and the messiness, it’s not my best work 💕 also I’m working on my other requests don’t worry, they’re just all longer posts 💕

Perospero is smart he knows what you’re doing when you lock yourself away in the bathroom or disappear for hours or sneak out of the room at night only for him to hear whimpers somewhere in the dark

And everytime it breaks his heart. He doesn’t exactly understand how you feel or why you would feel like this, but he has an understanding. When he finds you cutting yourself he’ll take the blade away from you, aggressively if he has to, and he cleans you up before sitting with you on his lap, and he clings tightly onto you pressing your head farther into his chest

He talks you through your “episodes�� or bad moments, telling you stories, that always involve someone else’s pain and suffering because he’s a psycho, but he hopes it’ll cheer you up- or at least distract you which it usually does

He presses light kisses everywhere, or more like he lightly licks the places. In your worse moments he tends to hold you tighter, clinging to you even with everything he has, he does it subconsciously usually, simply trying to let you know he’s there to hold you and tether you to this world

He never judges you, but he’ll scold you, yell at you, he’s broken things against the wall a few times, simply because the anger at not being able to protect you from even yourself is eating away at him

He pampers you and spoils you everytime you’re sad, hoping that you’ll realize the reason for you to live, when you slip into the depressive space late at night, or more accurately put- early in the morning, he’ll list reasons for you to stay, he’s blunt he gets to the point

Zoro doesn’t get it, he’s had depressive episode before definitely, but that was awhile ago when he was younger, and he doesn’t remember much so he’s extremely confused when it comes to you

He acts on impulse and instinct, but when it comes to you it’s delayed by a moment of uncertainty and fear and sadness and realization, everytime

He stalls as his sight falls on you sitting on the floor slicing, only with seconds wasted before he’s practically throwing himself on the floor and flinging the blade as far as he can

His touch is rough at first, gripping your shoulders or your untouched wrist, he shakes you and looks at you practically fuming and scolding you, begging you to tell him what you’re doing and why

He naps with you everytime you’re tired or he is, pulling you against him and nuzzling his face into your neck letting you do the same to him

He really only knows one way of comforting you, and that’s physical affection- more specifically hugs and forehead kisses. Though he does always say “it’s gonna be okay” and “I’m here” “I’ve got you” just the simple reassuring phrases that he means with every bone in his body

He’s not very good at words so unfortunately you can’t really count on him to tel you reason not to end it, but being with him provides a sense of comfort, of being safe, of being home

He hold you tightly when you cry, when you scream and hit his chest telling him to let you go, when you tell him you messed up your clean streak he tells you it’s okay and it’s just a mistake- everyone messes up. He’s protective, watching everyone’s moves even closer, making sure no one dare to threaten the candle flame burning in your eyes

Heartbroken, the one word to describe him. He feels as though he himself is the one being cut. He drops to his knees and begs you to tell him what you want, what you need, what will make you stay

He cuddles you and smothers you with kisses, even when you’re covered in blood or vomit or tears or alcohol, he’s there for every bruise and cut, for every scream of anguish and fear and frustration, for every weeping moment when you think there’s no way to reach the surface

He’s like a guardian angel, watching over you to make sure you’re not hurt in anyway, though he’s not always successful when it comes to you hurting yourself, big TW here- Sanji told you to cut him if it would help, hurt him if it would keep you from damaging yourself even more, past the point of fix

He has you bake with him, making cookies snd cakes and pies, decorating them while talking of the future, because you will have one

He tells you about the all blue, trying to find a dream for you, reminiscing all of the moments and memories that added color your dull world, listing reasons for you to live another day

When the hopeless thoughts and broken sobs creep up on you, taking you in their embrace and trapping you in a bubble of overwhelming uselessness and gruesome thoughts, Sanji is there by your side holding you the whole time, holding you head in the crook of his neck while he rocks side to side and whispers how much he loves you

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #sanji #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #zoro #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #charlotte perospero #perospero imagine #perospero headcanons

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captains-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Impatient Acts: Part 1

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word count: 1,724

Includes: phone sex, degrading, captain kink and masturbation with fingers and strap on

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How much longer do you think you'll be away?" You ask with a pout as you role onto your back, staring up at the dull ceiling and imaging your girlfriend somewhere far above it.

"I don't know, baby. Could be a couple days, maybe more...a lot more." She spoke into the device. Even though you were disappointed you were still quick to realise her tired voice sounded a lot like her morning voice, something that always turned you on to no ends.

Right now Carol was getting ready to rest for the night, if that was even a thing in space, while you lay on your bed in the midday summer heat.

The blonde had been away for a few weeks now and you missed her so much. You missed everything about the captain and there seemed to be nothing you could do to fix that. It seemed cuddling her pillow was only enough for when your were falling asleep, and even then you wanted to feel her strong arms wrapped around you.

Not to mention her being away for so long was leaving you incredibly sexually frustrated. You had told Carol this countless times when she had been away, but she just laughed it off before reiterated her number one rule: no touching the captain's property.

Just thinking about her referring to you and your body in such a way made a fire ignite between your legs.

"I miss you." You spoke quietly into the mic on your phone, closing your eyes and trying to invision her right now. She practically always slept in sweatpants and a vest, even in the winter when she was able to heat up her body with her powers (which was like sleeping with a warm blanket wrapped around you). Although sometimes she might not have those sweatpants on...and maybe even nothing beneath. You bite your lip at the thought.

"I miss you too." She said in that morning voice that encouraged the need you felt.

You were only wearing a loose vest and panties. You had no plans of going out, you were home alone and the summer heat wouldn't have been bearable to you in anything else.

"So much." You whispered into the mic as your fingers trailed delicately across your bare thigh and you imagined the motion being from Carol.

Speaking of who, the blonde was quick to catch on to the nature of your speech, knowing all the signs of you being horny you didn't even know you showed.

You heard her move position in her bed and imagined her moving to straddle your waist to kiss down your neck, or making herself comfortable between your legs to slide her strap in easier.

Your eyes flickered open to eye up the closet that you knew Carol had left one of her straps in as she spoke.

"What are you doing?" She asked suspiciously but knowing full damn well what you wanted to do.

"Nothing." You replied with a smile and your best innocent voice. You contemplated getting up and heading for the closet as you said that, but decided to just listen to Carol's voice instead...for now.

"You better be." She said with warning etched into her tone. You shivered at her words slightly as your fingers wandered over your clothed folds that were now drenched with your arousal.

"Or what?" You asked with a smirk and all the confidence you could gather; knowing full damn well you were going to pay for it later. But you were so god damn horny and Carol's voice was all the help you needed, the consequences would be another day's problem.

"Or you're going to regret it." She stated.

You scoffed at her words, not believing the punishment she was going to give could possibly not be worth the orgasm you were going to have tonight.

"It?" You questioned, wanting to hear her spell it out to you. Dirty talking would definetly get you off.

"If you touch that needy little pussy of yours without your captain's permission," she started - her voice getting lower and abandoning her tired tone now she was paying you full attention, "then when I get home I'll make your punishments so bad you'll beg for my forgiveness like the desperate whore you are while crying out for it to stop. You think I've punished you bad before? Things will get unimaginably worse for you if you disobey your captain, slut." She finished, bitterness engraved in her voice that made you bite you lip to stop yourself whimpering pathetically.

You knew you should stop. But the hormones were clouding your judgement and you could physically feel your arousal ruining your panties.

You didn't respond to Carol, you couldn't. You were completely unable to form any words as your fingertips finally dipped under your panties and stroked the wetness of your pussy.

"Well?" Carol asked expectantly. The moment of silence was filled with unbearable tension.

Your clit was throbbing, your pussy walls were clenching around nothing and a thin layer of sweat was forming along your body. You weren't going to wait any longer.

"No." You whispered. There was more silence as Carol didn't seem to believe you would defy such explicit orders, you always obeyed her.

"No?" She questioned, her voice stoic.

Your fingers stroked your folds more until you had collected enough of your juices. With ease, you slipped two fingers inside your touch deprived pussy and gave a long moan as they sunk deeper into you.

Carol growled lowly into the mic before speaking again. "Don't you fucking dare, y/n." She spat.

"I'm so wet, captain." You smiled as you started a slow pace with your fingers, not wanting to overwhelm your most sensitive part after weeks without contact.

"Stop." She said firmly but the anger in her voice only encouraged you. You could imagine her jaw clenched to enhance that prominent jawline. Her fists clenched and probably dieing to be choking you with them. And despite her objections, you bet she was wet.

You curled your fingers ever so slightly and shivered as they brushed against your most sensitive part. You sighed in bliss and moaned once your pace increased.

"Captain..." You whimpered, your thrusts becoming rougher as you clenched around your fingers occasionally.

"It's not worthit, y/n. Do not cum on those fucking fingers." She spat, prouncing all words to the t slowly and deliberately.

Her words planted an idea in your mind and you grinned mischeviously.

"Yes, captain." You replied and gradually pulled your fingers away, your pussy instantly clenching and protesting.

"Good. Now go to sleep." She ordered but you ignore her as you got off the bed and went over to the closet with one of Carol's straps. You bit your lip at the site of the perfect silicone and took it back to the bed.

You stripped off your panties and flung them across the room before laying down again and being thankful Carol hadn't hung up, probably dissatisfied by you not responding to her.

"I miss you fucking me with your cock, captain." You said truthfully into the mic. You didn't miss the uneven breath from Carol that she tried to fix.

"I'm glad you left my favourite behind." You smirked as your fingers stroked the toy.

"Don't even think about it." Carol warned but you disregarded her again as you placed the strap at your entrance, not even needing lube because of how wet you were and especially as you all but edged yourself just a minute prior. Granted, Carol rarely decided to use it either.

You made sure your head was tilted towards you phone that was close to you so your increasingly frustrated girlfriend could hear how your breathing was increasing in anticipation.

Her additional warnings fell on death ears as you only focused on those sound of her voice rather than the message. You were faintly aware of the threats and her telling you you were a disrespectful whore.

You moaned in response to her when the strap pressed itself further against your pussy lips as they eagerly spread themselves apart for the silicone.

You moaned even louder when the intruder was pushing it's way inside you, all the time imagining Carol above you while she whispered dirty truths to you like a secret.

"Captain." You whimpered as you pushed the strap on further, the result being your walls clamping down on it and your juices aiding it all.

You could hear Carol's breathing increase too, clearly turned on by hearing you fuck yourself with her strap and getting off to imaging her. But she would never admit that.

"It feels so good." You moaned as you pulled the strap out, only to have it return with force you hadn't realise you could conjour.

Her breathing hitches as she hears the wet sounds your pussy makes when you thrust the already soaking toy into your needy pussy. You do this continuously as you set a steady pace and lift your hips up slightly to give yourself better access.

Your pace doesn't falter and the strap continues the thrust into you, not nearly matching the pace Carol would give but knowing she'd up that when she gets back. The very thought of how rough she would be with you makes you gush with wetness and amplifies the sounds your pussy is making.

You moan louder into the mic as you mutter Carol's name over and over, as though doing so could make her appear.

"I'm gonna cum." You breathe out heavily and whimper as you approach you high.

"Don't." Carol orders and you can practically hear her teeth gritting between words.

With that command, you whole body tenses up and you back arches. You moan the loudest you had all night as you reach you first orgasm in weeks. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" You practically scream as you clench desperetly around the strap as you cum hard on the toy, shaking in pleasure as some of your white, sticky liquid escapes around the sides of the toy and spreads across your thigh as you clench them together after pulling the strap out.

You hadn't even regained your breath when Carol speaks her final words that night.

"You're going to regret that."

My Captain has ended the call.

Part two

#captain marvel smut #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers smut #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #brie larson #captain

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

Text

Safe and Sound.

Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: After the civil war, when Team Cap made peace with the rest of the Avengers, Bucky Barnes still had a lot to fix in his life. Bucky finds solace and all the answers he’s looking for in the cozy library café which you own in the middle of the busy city. He quickly becomes a regular client of yours, and through shy smiles, lengthy discussions regarding books and poetry, and leaving each other secret notes in book pages – you get attached to one another. More than you intended to.

Themes: Fluff, slight angst, a lil smutty

You heard the ding of the bell at the front door, which let you know that someone had walked into your library. You turned around and found your favorite client standing at the entrance – Bucky Barnes.

You immediately smiled at the sight of him. He was just such an interesting man, one couldn’t help but admire him no matter what he did. You watched as he carefully wiped his boots on the rug by the door before stepping in, always careful as to not make the floor all muddy given it had just rained outside.

He always came by with a coffee cup in his metal hand. And he would spend hours in your library, reading whatever you’d recommend, and whatever he didn’t have time to finish, he’d take home with him. He was a fast reader, you noticed a couple of weeks ago; he was always eager to finish a book, and his curiosity to learn and discover more could clearly be seen.

Of course, he had missed lots of works of literature over the years and now he was struggling to forget his gruesome past as the Winter Soldier, trying to find himself again to fit into the modern world better, fighting through bad memories and trauma and trying to catch up on what he missed while he wasn’t himself; reading became his favorite thing. It served as a hobby, as well as a coping mechanism. Whenever Bucky found himself going into a dark place again, he’d immediately turn to a book which you recommended and just within a few pages, he’d feel much better.

You and Bucky flirt a lot, but he’s also so respectful and polite and just the right amount of cheesy. He was a little old-fashioned, especially regarding his idea of romance and his take on modern romantic novels, but that was one of the many things you liked about him. He was an interesting man, and great company.

You liked him quite a lot. And he liked you back. But neither of you ever made the first step. You were too shy and he didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who has a past like his. But regardless, he had been catching feelings for you. You reminded him that there was still good left in this world; your gentleness, how tender you were with your voice and how selfless and loving you were when interacting with your clients.

Bucky knew he would never be able to let you go. Some days, while you were busy with others or arranging the many shelves in your library, when you paid no attention to him; Bucky’s eyes would follow you discretely. He often daydreamed about what life could be like for him if you were his. Someone he could trust. Someone to come home to. Someone who would care.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked how you hummed under your breath as you walked around, working. He liked the colors you wore very often; tan coats, and soft sweaters, and golden jewelry. Bucky had been around for a long while, and he had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but he still thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on.

A couple of words from you, and he was under your spell like it was nothing.

As for you, Bucky Barnes was not just a super soldier, he was the man who was slowly developing a love for reading, and he was also the man who could make your heart flutter just by looking into your eyes with those deep blue orbs.

Cream colored sweaters, messy hair, he was always a lovely sight. You still remembered the first time he walked into your library months ago;

-flashback-

Gloomy day. But the occasional soft murmurs of everyone scattered around your library café helped maintain the faint smile on your face. You were rearranging the modern fiction shelf, humming quietly under your breath when suddenly you noticed there was complete silence.

No soft murmurs, no fingernails hitting phone screens furiously, no pages turning, nothing. You moved from behind the shelf and approached the front desk, where you usually sat. And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ex fist of HYDRA; standing at the door of your library.

Dark jacket over his sweater, his metal arm tucked in the pocket of his jeans and a coffee in his hand. You were certain all eyes were on him for two main reasons; one being that he was part of the Avengers team, hence intimidating, and second, because he was drop dead gorgeous.

None of his pictures did him justice, you thought as you took in his broad, and muscular frame. Dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like he had been handcrafted by the Gods.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him because none of the Avengers ever swung by, despite your library café being well-known in the city. And to have one of the strongest man in the city walk into your café was not something which happened very often. Or ever really.

You felt bad for a minute because you saw how he shifted nervously under everyone’s gaze. He must hate the attention. So you decided to ease the tension.

“Mr. Barnes, come on in.” you smiled warmly at him, like you did with all your other clients. And you could feel the tension in the air beginning to diminish immediately. Almost everyone stopped staring at him, because given the way you greeted him, they thought he must be a regular client of yours – harmless despite his slightly rough demeanor.

Bucky Barnes gave you a faint smile and took some steps in. But not before wiping his slight wet boots on the rug. He was so thoughtful, not wanting to soil your floor. He walked up to the desk and looked around, seeming a little lost.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes. How may I help you?” you kept the soft smile on your face.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling to himself. “Sorry I just… it’s been forever since I stepped into a library.”

Something about that sentence made your chest hurt. He seemed so lost in this big, modern city. You knew all about him, and his past; you had read multiple articles about it. He was one of the most talked about members of the Avengers, especially since the recent fall out between Stark and Rogers. But thankfully the heroes had worked it out, and the team was whole again.

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright, Mr. Barnes. We can ease you into it. There’s no need to rush, I have all the time in the world.” he lifted his head up to look at you once he heard your words. Warmth and kindness was still new to him, and very much welcomed.

“Thank you.”

And that was the beginning of a friendship which then became so much more. Bucky formed an instant connection with you. Your warmth, your easy-going manner, your humor and kindness; it was all he never knew he craved.

And to you, he was no longer just a client anymore. He was someone you looked forward to seeing each day. He became a habit. The image of him walking into the huge glass doors of your library became your new favorite thing.

-end of flashback-

“Hey, doll.” he greeted you the same way each time, with a faint smile.

Your smile stretched wider at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Bucky. Finished your book?” you asked, and as always, he nodded and chuckled.

“Finished it just last night.” he said proudly. “What do you have for me next?” he asked, handing you over the book he took last time, just two days ago.

You typed on your computer for a second then looked up at him, “Depends, how did you like Miss Clark?”

He chuckled looking right into your eyes with his stormy blue eyes. “She reminds me of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Does she now?” you playfully teased. And Bucky gave you a handsome smile.

“Maybe you should read the book again. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked and you knew that smirk all too well.

You and Bucky had this thing you did where you’d leave each other cheesy notes in books. You’d leave the notes in books which you recommended him, and he’d leave his notes in books which he returned you, and that had been going on for quite some weeks now. Most of the notes were sweet and flirty, some much cheesier than others.

You smiled at him. “Alright then, go get yourself a seat. I’ll bring you some books.”

Bucky lingered for a few more seconds, just gazing at you and making your heart flutter before he finally went away to his usual seat; at the furthest corner, by the art pieces and the large window. You watched him for a brief second, how he sipped on his coffee and looked out the window, staring at the world he often wondered if he belonged in.

You went back towards the shelves and opened the book. And as per usual, you found the piece of parchment paper he always left you. There, scribbled in messy handwriting was the note he left you;

-‘… you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.’

He had left you a quote from the book itself today, like he did often. And your face felt hot and you smiled like a kid in love as you read, and re-read, the note over and over again. You couldn’t help but think of the day he had told you something quite similar; “You know, coming here and talking to you is the best part of my days.”

You blushed as you walked over to select some books for your favorite client. The fact that you two always flirted through notes in secrecy made you giddy. Bucky was an old soul, and he was an old-fashioned romantic and you had absolutely no problem with that. If anything, these secretive notes from him felt much, much more special than any text would.

You moved to the poetry section and looked for one of your favorites which he hadn’t read yet. You smiled as you found the collection and you quickly searched for a pen and a piece of parchment – which you had bought and kept solely to leave notes for Bucky.

You wrote down the two verses of one of your favorite poems and slipped the piece of parchment in before handing him the books;

“Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;

And love is love, in beggars and in kings.”

You were undeniably falling for the metal-armed soldier. And him, you. Even though neither of you admitted it, nor confessed your true feelings to one another.

---

Two days later, Bucky came by not even a minute after you opened, no other clients were here yet. No coffee in hand, red eyes, looking like he had had a rough night and barely any sleep. Soft beige sweater, and messy hair – he looked handsome regardless.

“Hi Bucky. What’s wrong?” you asked softly, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

One look into your eyes and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in for a hug he desperately needed. Wrapping his strong arms around you and placing his head on your shoulder, he sighed loudly. “I had a nightmare. I don’t know where else to go.” He mumbled and you felt your heart tearing in half.

You wrapped your arms around his immediately, rubbing your hand softly up and down his back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged him back as tight as you could, for as long as he needed.

There, in the middle of your library on a gloomy morning, Bucky found comfort. Your hug felt like balm for a wound he had for way too long now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let you go.

You placed your chin on his shoulder and felt his body heat wrap around you. You cracked a faint smile as you caught your reflection on the nearby mirror. A strong man, broad and brawny like Bucky; seeking comfort from you. Quite an unusual sight, but you definitely something you could get used to.

You held him still, and spoke up. “You wanna go get coffee together?”

He groaned quietly, still wrapped in your arms like a big baby. “No, I don’t wanna be around other people.” He mumbled. And you smiled again, even though your chest hurt a little at his words.

He didn’t want to be around people, yet he walked all the way to your library just to see you. Something about that made you feel all warm inside. And you felt the need to cater to all his needs.

“Okay then, do you want to go to my place so we can have coffee and talk? It’s a short walk from here.” You explained, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

Bucky pulled away and nodded immediately. You smiled and went towards the desk to gather your things. You pulled out your phone and texted you two other employees, telling them to manage the library till you came by later during the day.

The walk back to your apartment in the middle of the city was a short and silent one. Bucky held you hand all the way till there, and kept his head low. You felt him turn his head to look at you often, and whenever you caught his stare, he gave you a brief smile; making your heart flutter again.

“Sugar or creamer?” you asked, as you made two cups of coffee. Bucky shook his head. Black coffee then, you pushed the one mug towards him and took a seat at the island as well, facing him. “What was it about?” you asked.

Bucky kept his eyes down, understanding that you were referring to the nightmare he had. “Just… me hurting people.” A chill went down his spine as he uttered the words. He had hurt people; many of whom didn’t deserve any pain. But he had mercilessly caused pain. Immeasurable pain. And someone as tainted as him shouldn’t be around someone as warm and kind like you, he thought. He shouldn’t be here. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mumbled abruptly. “I should go.” He avoided your gaze and stood up to leave.

But then you walked over and grabbed his arm. “No.” you stopped him from leaving. “Hey, look at me,” you cupped his face, placing your other hand on his chest, and turned his head towards you. His eyes were red again, watery and sad. He blinked as he looked at you; lost and hurt, wondering if he even deserved this warmth, this attention and care. “I want you here, okay? I care, Bucky.”

He blinked again, letting your words settle in. And once it did, he leaned in for another hug.

“Do you wanna do some reading?” you asked, and he sighed.

“No.” he answered, sounding grumpy.

“Do you want me to read to you?” you asked again and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yes please.”

And that’s how you two ended up on your large couch. Effortlessly comfortable in sharing space with one another; under cozy blankets, and Bucky placed his head on your lap and listened to your voice as you read him some of your favorite poems while mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. He liked this a lot.

“… While faithful love the watch should keep, to banish danger from thy sleep.” You ended another poem and Bucky smiled and looked up at you. “Liked that one?”

He nodded. “What’s it called?”

“Winter song.” You replied.

Very fitting, he thought and smiled to himself before looking up at you again. “Another one, please?” he asked, politely.

You giggled and flipped through the pages of the book, searching for another one. As you began reading, Bucky felt himself slipping more and more under your spell.

There was this sense of familiarity between the two of you. Despite having known each other for just some months, you felt like you knew each other for decades. It was unusual, but comforting. For instance, having him here in your home, in your living room under the same blanket as you felt delightful, and soothing.

Sure, you had a crush on the man since the day he first stepped into your life. And vice versa. But this felt like so much more. It felt satisfying, like coming home after a long day; knowing that inside these walls, you’re protected and far from the dangers of the outside, darker world. Your home and your company made Bucky feel like he was safe inside a bubble of ease and comfort. He hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. So he was grateful for you.

“…This world I saw as on her judgment day. When the war ends, and the sky rolls away. And all is light, love and eternity.” You finished the poem and looked down to find Bucky asleep on your couch, with his head on your lap.

You smiled as you admired the man. Life hadn’t been easy on him, it had been cruel and painful. And he deserved happiness, and love and light. You knew he did. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead, giving him a quick kiss before carefully slipping from under him and placing a cushion where your lap had been, making sure he was comfortable as he napped.

And soon, that became a habit as well.

---

Bucky spent much more time in your apartment than he did at the compound. And it felt strangely like a norm you two had been following for years, when in reality it had been just weeks. Perhaps it was because there was no sexual tension in between you two… yet, but you just needed one another to feel normal and complete.

Many days you’d wake up and find him in your kitchen. And you’d sleepily walk over to him, give him a kiss on the shoulder, or his neck, or cheek – whatever was reachable. And he’d smile and kiss your forehead and make you coffee.

Then you’d walk till the library together, and he’d spend some time in there, until he received a call from the team. Of course, he still went on missions, and sometimes you wouldn’t see him for 2-3 days. But in the end, he’d always come back to you.

And you knew he relied on you a lot. Be it calling you in the middle of the night – when he slept at the compound, or when he was away on missions – after he’s had a terrible nightmare and telling you that he just needed to hear your voice to feel better. Or crashing on the couch in your room because he just can’t be alone, and needs to be as close to you as possible. Or how he’d often spend hours hanging out with you, asking you politely to read to him.

You loved taking care of him. And you never realized that you relied on him too. And you didn’t know you couldn’t live without him either, until the time when you didn’t seen him for weeks.

Calls, voicemails, messages, he replied to none. You didn’t even know if he was just unavailable, or isolating himself or worse, had had a mission go wrong.

You thought of the worse. Him hurt, and alone, trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You knew he was strong, and could fight his way out of anything. But although enhanced, he was human still.

Your days became mundane and bland without your favorite metal-armed super soldier. The littlest of things reminded you of him. The extra mug out on your counter. The creamer in the fridge which he never used. The knitted blanket he loved but wouldn’t admit to loving it because it was bright, obnoxiously pink. The hair band he had left on your coffee table. The books you planned on reading to him, but didn’t get the chance yet.

Please come back to me…

You cried the first night. Then by the end of the first week without him, you weren’t cheery anymore, you just felt empty. You knew you could always reach out to the rest of the team and ask about him, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. Besides, they wouldn’t even know who you are.

So all you could do was wait. You heard around that some of the Avengers had gone on a mission, and you didn’t know if it was entirely true because a lot of people just gossiped about stuff they didn’t know for sure.

But hearing that he might just be away on a mission was somewhat comforting. Still, you were worried sick.

---

You sure missed him, but you didn’t know just how much until you couldn’t hold back the tears the day he finally showed up at the entrance of your library one morning, almost two weeks later.

“Hey doll.” he seemed a little tired. And bruised. His flesh arm had bandages around the knuckles up till his wrist. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent.

Bucky felt both relief and pain as he took in the look on your face. Your watery eyes and the look of relief in your eyes as well.

“Buck…” you whispered and you walked over to him and rushed into his arms, paying barely any attention to some of the people who were sat inside your café. You tried your hardest to seem chill, and calm and collected.

But you couldn’t hold back the tears. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky and wet his sweater with your tears. Not sobbing, but just letting out all the emotions you had been bottling up during his absence. “Where were you?” you asked, sniffling.

Bucky cracked a little smiled and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Long, tiring mission. I didn’t have my phone. Sorry I left so suddenly.”

You sniffled again and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s okay. It’s your job, I understand. I just�� missed you a lot. I thought you… I thought you wouldn’t come back to me.” You lowered your eyes to the ground, staring at his boots instead.

He grabbed your chin gently and moved lifted your face so he could look at you. God knows he had missed you so terribly as well.

“I missed you too, doll.” he said with a weary smile. The nickname he had given you shortly before disappearing on you for two whole weeks still made you feel all tingly.

You didn’t want to cry so you leaned in for another hug. Wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your forehead against his chest, you sighed loudly and inhaled his lovely, masculine scent. “Don’t leave me.” You mumbled.

You heard him let out a little chuckle as his arms tightened around you. “I won’t, doll. I’m here. I’ll always come back to you.” His words made your heart flutter again. And you pulled away, wiping your tears and maintaining your composure, not wanting to been seen all teary by the rest of your clients.

You sniffled again, looking down at your shoes. And another tear fell. Bucky reached out and wiped it gently. You spoke up again, “You can’t just disappear like that. I was so worried.” You were still upset. Relieved that he was alright, but upset nonetheless.

Bucky was in awe. No one ever cared this much when he was away on mission. The whole world saw him as an ex-assassin, the fist of HYDRA, now an Avenger, a super-soldier who was designed to fight and end battles which he didn’t even start. Not many people made him feel like he was human too. That he feels pain when he’s kicked or punched, or shot at. That his wounds bleed just like anyone else.

But you did. Around you, it was okay for him to be vulnerable. Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your skin. “I didn’t know I would end up being away for so long. Although, I would love to make it up to you. Movie night?”

You looked up at him and immediately remembered the last time you had a movie night, around three weeks ago. And how the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch and you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled with his. It was the best night of sleep both of you had in a long time.

You nodded quickly.

---

Movie nights with Bucky definitely earned a top ranking on your list of favorite things. It was adorable how he had countless questions about movies, and how he’d point out every little detail which you missed out on. Or how he gradually inched closer and closer to you on the couch, until his thighs were touching yours.

And your whole body felt like it had been electrified the minute he casually placed his hand on your thigh, barely paying any attention to you as he watched the movie. Your body was burning hot under his touch. And you squirmed just a little when the pad of his thumb lazily caressed your skin; in an innocent, affectionate manner – but which also filled your brain with filth.

“You okay, doll?” he asked in that velvety smooth voice of his which made you weak in the knees.

You cleared your throat and tried to push all the filthy thoughts out of your mind. “Yeah. Yeah, why?” you almost stuttered as he gently moved the palm of his hand up and down your thigh. You looked up at him and he was smirking.

Oh, so he’s been doing this on purpose?

“You look a little…” he trailed off as he gently leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “… troubled.” He chuckled as he heard you gasp. He pulled away and studied your face for a second. You looked fierce, and ready to pounce on him; obviously frustrated and turned on by his antics. “Come here, doll.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as you lowered your body onto his lap. You immediately felt something hard pressing into you, right in between your legs.

“I still have to make up for the time I’ve been gone, don’t I doll?“

---

You woke one morning, feeling tingly. So much so that your own giggle chased away all the remnants of the previous night’s sleep. You looked to your side and noticed that Bucky wasn’t there. And then you felt him. More specifically, his mouth. Right in between your legs.

He mouth latched on to your wet heat and he ate you out, coaxing you to wake up. Gently, as always. You peaked under the blankets and found him tongue-fucking you. You threw the blanket off the both of you to get a better look at him.

Since that one movie night, about a month ago, you and Bucky had been sleeping in the same bed each night. Except on days when the team needed him for a mission or something. But other than that, he lived with you most of the time. And you were the happiest person ever.

“Well good morning to me.” You spoke, voice still a little groggy from your deep slumber, but also a little hoarse due to last night. Bucky was always a little more needy and passionate, and insatiable whenever he returned from missions; like last night.

You watched how he pulled away from your wet folds and looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes you were in love with. “Morning baby.” he whispered, flashed you a breathtaking smile, and got back to pleasuring you. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky’s hands locked around your thighs as he pushed the lower half of his mouth further into you, teasing you with his tongue.

He had you moaning and squirming under him, slipping his tongue in between your wet folds, poking at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your fingers grabbed his hair and you tugged on it occasionally, and it drove him wild each time. He loved every inch of you, and he made sure to show you just that each and every day.

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, you came all over his mouth, and he lapped up all that you gave him. Wanting more and more. His hunger for you couldn’t ever be satiated fully, he concluded. Especially not when he woke up next to a naked you almost each day.

Bucky kissed his way up your body, stopping every second and kissing every inch of your skin until he reached your mouth; where he kissed you passionately, deeply. Licking the inside of your mouth hungrily, making you moan and feel dizzy just from a kiss.

He finally pulled away and looked down at you. “I am so in love with you. It’s crazy.” He whispered. And lowered his body onto yours, pushing his face into the crook of your and peppering your skin with kisses again.

“I am madly in love with you too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, smiling to yourself and relishing his body heat. Loving Bucky came with its own challenges, but there was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him.

As for him, you were the stability and sense of belonging which he sought for so long. And now he had it, and he wasn’t letting go you of you anytime soon. You were his, and that alone made him the happiest he had ever been all his life. You were his safe haven.

And you both silently promised to keep each other safe and sound.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #marvel #winter soldier

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