#and he’s squirming next to her trying to hide standing around your tree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maddiewritesstucky · 3 years ago

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Snare Me His Shadow

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.5k

Tags: Primal Play, Prey/Predator Kink, Fighting As Foreplay, Rough Sex, Biting, Choking, Dom/Sub Undertones, Come Swapping, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Fucking Outdoors, Storm Sex, Poetry As An Aphrodisiac, R18 Hide And Seek

So a million years ago, @howdoyousleep3 passed on an ask from her inbox that read:

[I dont know if you’re familiar with primal play, but it’s so fucking hot. Yeah, I know, Steve is all muscle and ability, he’s strong he’s fast, he’s smart, he is not prey. Usually. But Bucky - the winter soldier - is a hunter. The best, in fact. He loves a good hunt]

...This one possessed me. Please heed the tags, this is an entirely consensual and agreed-upon game between Steve and Bucky, but it is very much a hunter/prey type situation 😈

It’s electric, like this.

Barefoot on the damp earth, navigating by muscle memory more than sight, because darkness settles that much denser beneath the tree canopy.

Steve could move faster, could take this barely-worn path through the woods behind the compound at a sprint. But fast is loud.

Fast is leaves cracking and branches splintering, and the muted thud of footfalls on the forest floor. It’s eyes fixed only ahead so you don’t stumble, and nothing but the sound of your own exhales in your ears.

‘Fast’ gets you caught.

The in-rolling storm crackles humid in the air, sparking against Steve’s skin as he weaves through the underbrush. He throws his every sense outwards, searching and sifting through those faint currents of movement around him, those quiet signs of life. But it’s all life out here; birds and insects and creatures who can’t bear the light, all just playing the same game he is, and every last one of them pricks at his awareness.

Every last one of them kicks at his pulse and drip-feeds new adrenaline into his bloodstream, because experience echoes a warning way down in his cells - the apex predator comes silent as a spider.

There’s so many eyes on him, the weight of being watched pressing down on him from all sides. He digs the heel of his hand into his arousal and pulls in a lungful of air on the cusp of rain; feels himself splintering between his warring desires to put up a worthy chase, and to drop down belly-up in the dirt.

It’s a choice that will be made for him, eventually.

He might be strength, and speed, and strategy. But out here, he is prey.

Out here, in these weeping woods that stretch endless into the night, Steve is achingly, exquisitely outmatched by the hunter who lies in wait; biding his time, unseen, and slipping ever closer.

Dressed in black from head to toe, or skin bared to the shivering pulses of the forest; empty handed, or palms laden with the urge to grab and pin and possess…

The Winter Soldier is out there, and Steve’s blood runs so much hotter for the knowledge that he won’t see or hear or feel him coming until it’s too late.

He winds his way amongst the weathered trunks, hugging the shadows and pawing at the lines of his own body; stroking his thighs and pulling at his nipples, raking fingernails over the bare skin of his stomach. It’s rough and absent and frantic all at once, a weak precursor to what he’s evading.

The dissonance of it is dizzying, hiding from the thing he wants most. He wants to cry out, to make for the clearing in the middle of the woods and sprawl shameless in the open until he’s found, but he knows the rules - run, hide, don’t make it easy.

Pursuit is the purpose, and capture is a pleasure that must be earned, no matter how raw his skin is screaming for touch. And it is screaming - he’s a copper wire stripped bare, and he shivers for every stinging snap of branch and damp drag of leaf against his body as he picks his way through the darkness.

Hard limits apply, he’d told Bucky, the rest is up to you.

He shudders for it now, those words and the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened for them; the way he’d leaned in to kiss his sugar-laced threat right onto Steve’s waiting lips - I will find you.

It’s only a matter of time. The forest is vast, and countless months have passed since they last played this game, but Bucky is a blade that never dulls.

Bucky is razor-sharp, in wit, beauty, and battle; made up of midnight and silent strides when he so chooses, and he will find Steve.

He might have had eyes on Steve this entire time; ten soundless steps behind, watching Steve’s slow descent into desperation with a smile on his face, and the mere possibility has Steve’s cock weeping through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His fingertips dip beneath his waistband and sweep through the wetness beading at his tip; stroke that sensitive spot just beneath the head. His palm slips to press at the heavy throb in his balls and it makes his breath catch too loud in the confines of his chest, has a moan slipping out past his gritted teeth.

He knows it’s foolish, knows he’s only making himself easier to track. But every step he takes is winding the hunt toward its inevitable climax, and intellect is giving way to instinct.

His consciousness is beginning that steady downward drip, sinking from logic and reason to settle and swim with the dense heat pooling at the base of his spine. Soon, he’ll be nothing more than the urge rippling under his skin, the tight-squeezed air in his lungs and the thrum of blood between his thighs, and every brush of his own hands is permission to slip a little further to it.

So he doesn’t stop.

His feet and his fingers keep moving; his body acting now on his mind’s behalf to draw towards the river's edge, where his desperate sounds will be swept away by the unending rush of water over rock, because this is about preservation now.

It’s about surviving the voracity of his own need until he is found, until Bucky catches him, and then…god, then...

The rest is up to you.

The beginning of rainfall winds its way down through the tree canopy, and it does nothing to quell the heat radiating off Steve. He’s burning so hot for this, so hungry for it; his need only growing sharper as the atmosphere curls in thick and charged with the promise of thunder.

It’s rumbling in the distance already, too faint for non-enhanced ears but creeping closer; a rolling bass beneath the surge of the fast flowing river up ahead. He can see the diluted black of open space through the trees now, can hear the clack of wet-tumbling stones, and it’s nothing short of delusion, the way it feels like he’s headed for sanctuary.

Logic knows it’s a weak veil of auditory cover at best, and an outright plea for ambush at worst.

Steve knows, down in his gut, exactly which one he’s hoping for, and he sprints for it with the last of his tactical thought seeping out through the soles of his feet.

He breaks through the tree line, hitching a gasp as he stumbles out into the full force of the downpour. It’s coming down heavy, sluicing at the fever-sweat clinging to his skin, and he tilts his face up towards it; lets his eyes drift shut and his shoulders drop as he bares his throat to the purple-black sky.

His pulse riots for the sheer abandon of the gesture, of shifting his posture to one of invitation in the midst of evasion. It only spurs him on, makes him want to find out just how shrill that siren in his cells will wail when he refuses to curl in on himself.

He forces his hands open at his sides, turns his palms outwards and walks further out onto the exposed riverbank. He stands ankle deep in the river with his heart in his throat, soaked to the bone and all but shaking with the desire to drop to his knees in submission.

And that’s when he hears it.

The slow-whistled high note, followed by a low; the signal that shivers from the top of Steve’s spine to the cradle of his hips.

Found you.

It’s a question as much as a warning, that signal; a chance for Steve to respond in their shared language of gesture whether he wants the chase, or the fight.

As if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment they agreed to play tonight.

As if he’s not done for either way.

He pulls in a shuddering breath, his skin prickling with the presence he can sense now off to his left. Survival instinct begs him to open his eyes, to scour his surroundings and prepare for what’s coming, but he only shuts them tighter.

He grins up at the pelting rain, curls his quivering right hand into a fist, and beats it against his drenched, heaving chest.

Take me down where I stand.

Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the stones underfoot. Steve’s blood beats frantic in his ears, one heartbeat stumbling over the next, and he waits, waits for the blow he doesn’t want to see coming.

A foot to the back of his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat, a strike of unyielding metal between his shoulder blades...it’s never the same twice, and it’s always better than the time before, and he can’t stop the desperate whimper that falls from his parted, rain-slick lips.

“Bucky!” he pleads, hurling it into the current of the storm raging around him.

“Steve,” comes the answer from directly behind him; the word falling across his skin in the split second before teeth sink deep into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s nothing short of wanton, the way Steve cries out with it.

Five fingers curl a punishing grip around the column of his throat and a soaking wet body plasters against his back, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold his centre of gravity as he’s wrestled down to the riverbank.

It’s a messy takedown, raw force over skill; dripping all the same desperation that’s been twisting hot in Steve’s gut all night. Bucky pins him belly-down against the stones at the river’s edge, the full weight of his body draped over him, and Steve knows the tremor he can feel humming through Bucky’s muscles has nothing to do with the cold.

“The river,” Bucky growls; metal forearm jammed against the back of Steve's neck, “of course you came to the river.”

Steve squirms giddy beneath Bucky’s mass, beneath that deep-thrumming power crushing down on him.

The storm-swollen current reaches up the bank to wash shallow and frigid beneath Steve’s cheek, his chest; against his nipples and his thighs and his cock inside his drenched shorts. It’s cold enough to draw gooseflesh across the bared expanse of his skin, but fuck if that persistent rush doesn’t feel like getting tongued; like every single time Bucky’s ever slipped an ice cube in his mouth and sucked him off just to see him hit the ceiling.

“Buck...”

It’s the only word that makes sense anymore. Steve gets his elbows under himself and pushes his body up, but only so much as to feel the stifling weight of Bucky on top of him.

Bucky’s hand slips to the front of his throat and grips him tight up under the line of his jaw; tips his head back to get his lips and teeth pressed hard against Steve’s ear.

“Steven...did you even try?”

The rain and the river aren’t enough to sweep away the mockery in his tone. He’s shifting himself on top of Steve, putting scant inches of space between their bodies, and Steve knows this cue; grins bright and breathless for it.

He digs his hands in against the riverbed, plants his knees and shoves upwards. He heaves his weight forward and Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to let it happen, to let Steve crawl and clamber a few meager feet forwards.

Steve knows it’s a false freedom but he laughs half-hysterical for it anyway, and even more so when Bucky’s hands are catching him again, clamping bruising tight at his hips and grappling him onto the flat of his back.

He winces at the battering strike of rain against his face, but it’s just as soon blocked by the cover of Bucky caging him in; replaced by the tepid drips rolling off Bucky’s perpetually warm skin.

Steve’s body reacts the way it thinks it’s supposed to, going through the motions of trying to throw Bucky off - strength funneled into a forearm arm pressing here, a knee striking there. But it’s pointless; sabotaged by the underlying truth that the only place Steve really wants to be is stuck exactly where he finds himself - pinned pliant beneath his predator.

He lets himself look, then; lets his gaze slip down between them to drag over the length of Bucky’s body. He’s bared to the elements just the same as Steve - not a stitch on him save for running shorts that barely hit at mid-thigh. His hair is pulled back, and he’s soaked to the bone, and when lightning splits the darkness in two and catches on the angles of his face, that raw perilous beauty strikes a blow all of its own to the center of Steve’s chest.

“You win,” Steve rasps, dragging his voice up from the pit of his billowing lungs.

Bucky’s answering laugh is darker than the wet-ink midnight pressing in on them, and it shudders all the way to Steve’s bones when Bucky sinks down to purr ominous against the vulnerable stretch of his neck.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

The ravenous clamp of teeth on his throat sends Steve’s body bowing, writhing for that merciless bite that doesn’t break the skin, but makes purpled ruin of what lies beneath. Fascia and blood vessels and Steve’s sanity, all broken down in the transcendent grind of Bucky’s jaw, the heat of his mouth; all over Steve’s neck and his chest and his belly, and it’s so feral, the way Steve wants it.

He wants the shred of busted stitching and the shock of rain against newly bared skin as his shorts are torn from his body.

He wants the red welts raked down his rib cage, the kiss-split lip and the deep set imprints of Bucky’s teeth all up the insides of his thighs.

Bucky’s touch is heavy and he means it to be; his shifting, squeezing grip claiming handfuls of Steve’s willing flesh wherever he can get it. And he can get it everywhere - every last inch of Steve’s body splayed out for him in tribute to his prowess, and Steve wants him to take it.

He wants Bucky to make sacrilege of it out here under the split-open skies, until it feels like heaven itself is sobbing for it.

“Fuck me,” ruin me, desecrate me, arch-backed and bleeding-lipped in the dirt, “Bucky, fuck me…”

Steve begs with all of himself, legs split and arms thrown above his head; dripping sweat and storm and half-crazed surrender. Like he actually has to plead for this, like Bucky’s not already stuffing searching fingers up between his cheeks to grope for the base-end of silicone that says Steve’s body is primed for the taking.

Bucky bites taunting denial into his skin, over and over. ‘No,’ even as he pulls the plug from Steve’s body and replaces it with his fingers. ‘No’ growled against Steve’s body every time he begs now, and please, and I’m ready, just to fray that tenuous thread of Steve’s resolve.

Steve’s delirious with it, crying out high and sharp for the stretch of cold metal inside him and the drip of remnant lube. He chants Bucky’s name and reaches out with clinging, clawing hands that only get batted away; that get caught at the wrists and pinned down, and Bucky’s laughing at him.

Bucky is toying with him, leaving him empty and climbing back up over his body to graze teeth over Steve’s cheekbones, to whisper sweet mockery against Steve’s lips before he kisses them bruising-hard.

“Tell me you want it,” Bucky coos, clamping his hand over Steve’s mouth and pushing the clothed head of his cock up against Steve’s hole.

Steve sobs against his palm. He forces the words out wet and incomprehensible onto Bucky’s skin; again and again as Bucky tuts and tells him to speak the fuck up.

Tears are streaming free from the corners of his eyes and his legs are hooking desperately around Bucky’s waist, and he knows that Bucky wants this just as bad. He can feel Bucky shaking and shuddering under the strain of holding back and holding out, trying to push Steve closer to his breaking point just because that’s what Steve wants; devotion at its most deranged.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Bucky laps at the tears tracking down Steve’s face, letting up his hand from Steve’s mouth only to settle it heavy on his throat.

He slips his other hand down between them to shove at his shorts, fighting the clinging fabric down far enough to get his cock free, and then they’re both groaning for the rub of naked skin on skin.

“Buck,” Steve chokes out a half-strangled cry as Bucky sinks his whole weight onto him, dragging his stomach over Steve’s weeping cock and rocking his own into the crease of Steve’s hip.

“Tell me you want it?” Bucky says again, a question this time instead of a taunt.

Steve’s rasp of yes, fuck, do it barely makes it past his lips before Bucky’s cock is pushing into him.

There’s no hesitance, no pretense of patience to it. Bucky doesn’t finesse it and Steve doesn’t want him to - he didn’t spend half the night skulking through the woods in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm just to get taken the way he would be in the sanctity of their bed.

Steve came out here to get fucked vicious, and Bucky knows better than to pull his punches.

He shoves brutal and punishing into the tight heat of Steve’s body, knocking the air from Steve’s lungs and the sense from his psyche.

He’s tucking words up against Steve’s ear, something lilting and familiar, and the roar of Steve’s own blood and the groaning sky above don’t drown out Bucky’s voice so much as darken it’s edges; slip a rumbling bass beneath it’s baritone. Steve loses himself in the well-worn rhythm long before the words catch up to sink hooks into his ribcage.

“O Hunter, snare me his shadow,” Bucky hums, “O Nightingale, catch me his strain…else moonstruck with music and madness...I track him in vain.”

Steve would weep, if he had it in him to do anything other than lay there flat on his back and take it.

Bucky grinds in blinding-deep and stays there, rocks there; drips poetry all over the side of Steve’s neck like he’s not fucking him fit to kill.

He squeezes Steve’s throat until his eyes roll back, swats at Steve’s cheek and pulls merciless on his hair. He stuffs fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth deep enough to gag on, and hinges Steve’s jaw open so he has no choice but to set loose every raw, wrecked sound Bucky knocks out of him.

It’s fucking flawless.

“Give me one,” Bucky growls.

Steve needs no clarification beyond the spearing of Bucky’s cock into his prostate, and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself frantic and heavy-handed.

It should be pitiful, how little it takes. But it’s been mounting for what feels like hours, and when Bucky wrenches himself abruptly from Steve’s body to slap a hand down square over Steve’s balls and his slick, aching asshole, that orgasm crests with near-painful force.

“Fuck!” Steve’s wracked with it, shuddering and flinching from it like it’s not the makings of his very own flesh and blood.

Bucky doesn’t even wait for it to be over before he’s dipping down to lap at it; rubbing his cheek and his chest and his belly through Steve’s release on his slow crawl back up to spit it into Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ swallow it,” he warns, pressing his thumb to the seam of Steve’s lips, “I want it back.”

Steve’s body is sparking chaotic, crying too soon and too much just as loud as it’s screaming too good as Bucky grips him by his sodden hair and buries his cock back inside him; falling into rhythm like he never stopped thrusting in the first place.

He wants to moan, wants to cry out for that welcome knifepoint of forced pleasure building within him, but the desperate sounds creeping onto his tongue are every bit as caged as the come he can’t swallow.

Which is the whole point, Steve flushes submissive to realize - Bucky’s got him gagged without even touching him.

He twines his limbs up around Bucky’s body, groping and pulling at him like there’s still an insufferable distance left to close. The guttural moans Bucky’s spilling into the crook of his neck only render Steve’s own noises even more pathetic; huffing high and reedy the longer they remain trapped in his throat.

“Christ, listen to you...”

Bucky pushes up onto his elbows to stare down at Steve, to watch the play of desperation on his face.

He’s no less transparent himself in how affected he is, a lifetime of ceaseless want spelled out in his gaze; hunger and rapture and the kind of adoration Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever fully earn, not really.

But it’s all right there, in the way Bucky’s looking at him; the way he’s bearing the howling force of the storm against his back just to give Steve this, and Steve is sunk.

Steve is nothing more than the sweet ruin of his body and the near painful swell of his heart for the multitudes that Bucky contains. A death sentence if you ask the history books and still the better half of Steve’s soul, Bucky is the boundless shadow and blinding light of Steve’s entire existence; his every reason for being and doing and fucking trying, after all these years.

It would be terrifying, if Steve weren’t bone-deep certain that he’s the axis Bucky’s world spins on, too.

“You found me...”

The words are almost a sob hitching off Steve’s tongue, pitched fuck-drunk and slurred around his mouthful of himself.

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it; half hopes for the crack of an open palm against his cheek for it. But the look Bucky hits him with lands harder than any physical strike could hope to; taking Steve’s face firm between his hands and staring down at him like there’s never been a truth so vital, so dire.

“I will always find you, Steve.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The one thing their shared existence will always narrow down to. There’s nowhere either of them could go that the other wouldn’t tear the world apart to get to, and the scant inches of distance between them right now might as well be oceans for all Steve’s burning inside to cross them.

He cups his hands around Bucky’s neck and arches up, pulls him down; pleading with everything but words for Bucky’s mouth on his, and Bucky doesn’t make him wait. He meets Steve right there in the delirium with lips and tongue and moans that rival the swelling thunder; sucking the taste of Steve off his tongue and dripping a starved groan into his mouth in its place.

“I wanna make you come,” he says, like he hasn’t already dragged one out of him, “tell me you’re gonna come.”

“Fuck, I am, I’m gonna come...”

“Say it’s for me, Steve, tell me it’s mine.”

Steve nods so hard, he can feel a bruise bloom at the base of his skull where it grates against the riverstone. Of course it’s for Bucky, everything’s for Bucky; every breath in his lungs and every beat of his stricken, obsessed heart. The sensations within him are mounting too immense, too desperate to be named pleasure, but they’re careening all the same towards the one thing Bucky wants from him, and it will only ever be Bucky’s, this perfect agony of coming undone.

“It’s yours,” he sobs, voice weak and body shaking. "Just—fuckin’ take it from me, Buck.”

He gives up all conscious hold on himself; submits entirely to the relentless drag of Bucky’s dick against his insides and the wet rasp of rock against his back as Bucky drives deep into his surrendered body, chasing that climax for the both of them.

It burns so bright, when it hits Steve; wrenched from his core and rolling sharp through the splay of his trembling frame. He cries out with it, but the storm cries louder, Bucky cries louder; moving ceaselessly through the spasms of Steve’s orgasm and drowning in the give of Steve’s body beneath him.

“Fuck, Steve, I—”

“Do it,” Steve slurs, needing nothing more than the tell-tale shudder of Bucky’s body and the way he gasps Steve’s name like a warning. “In me, Buck. Do it.”

Bucky cusses sharp, pulsing his hips as he lets go inside Steve like he can bury that seed deep enough to stick. And fuck, Steve wants it to. It’s all raw nerve on the inside but Steve never wants this to end; possessed by the slick grind of Bucky’s twitching cock and the heaving half-moans of Bucky’s breath.

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, reaching fingertips down to where their bodies are joined, where Bucky’s stuffed into him and leaking out of him. “Keep fucking me, just—just keep—”

Keep coming.

Be that monstrous entity in the woods who fucks me like it’s a haunting, ’til not even an exorcism would rid me of you.

He prods at the stretch of his swollen rim, drags his fingers through the warmth seeping out around Bucky’s cock. He wants it everywhere; brings those slick fingers up to smear over the pulse point on his neck, down the line of his throat, and Bucky heaves a moan dragged right from the marrow of his bones.

“I won’t stop,” he grits out through clattering teeth, rocking into Steve graceless and starving. “Not gonna stop, Steve.”

It sounds as much like threat as it does promise.

They’re both quaking with it, overstimulated and frigid cold and too achingly, crushingly lost in each other. For all the serum may have made them both to defy science and probability, to withstand war and stall the ravages of aging, it still couldn’t create a vessel vast enough to contain this - this raw, insatiable need for one another.

“Bucky…”

Steve looks up from the flat of his back; tips his head to offer up the stretch of his throat as he offers up a tremulous verse — a challenge — into the space between them.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep...”

Recognition sparks dark and joyous in Bucky’s gaze. He catches Steve’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, palm against palm in a too-tight grip.

“But I have promises to keep,” he grins, “and miles to go before I sleep…”

His lips are turning up wolfish; the roll of his hips turning to something liquid and long-haul, and the rain beats down just as violent as it ever did.

Steve lets his eyes slip closed, lets the final refrain slip from his tongue before he surrenders, smiling, to the slow closing of Bucky’s teeth around his windpipe.

“...And miles to go before I sleep.”

If you’re at all curious, the poems they quote are ‘In The Forest’ by Oscar Wilde, and ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost 😘

#steve/bucky #stucky #stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes

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angelyuji · 4 years ago

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first dates with my faves 😁 : nanami, loki, mammon, arvin, peter maximoff, and 707: yandere edition

cw // forced kissing, guys having a weird thing for innocence, stalking, breaking in and stealing personal items, society, awkward dates, kidnapping, mild to extreme yanderes, shoplifting, unconsensual touching, implied murder, religion is used wrongly to control

nanami: expensive restaurant - is on edge after being forced to go (by gojo). he’ll be watching your every move: the way you talk, the way you sit, the way you excuse yourself. he’ll size you up: your dress, your shoes, your jewelry. god, youre so polite and so friendly, his heart warms at your smile. your mannerisms make him wanna grab you and just hold you close. you’d get your menus and he’d order, then he’ll look at you and you’ll only be able to open your mouth before he just orders for you. you’ll be surprised, but you won’t say anything. giving him enough information to know that you’re perfect for him. he’s not the type to kiss or take you home on the first date, nanami is a gentleman, but you...you’re an exception. he’ll take you to your front door before watching your eyes. he sees such an innocent shine and he wants to protect that innocence for himself. he’ll lean in, holding the back of your head, and he’ll force bring you into a kiss. you’ll warm up to him eventually.

“my tie would look beautiful around your neck, darling”

loki: reallly expensive restaurant - like nanami, he’d be watching your every move. he’ll treat you like you’re inferior to him. he does not wanna be on this date, so he’s not gonna treat you that well. he’s watching you in absolute distaste, hoping you’ll slip up so he can tear you down. watching the way your outfit hugs you, the way you pick up you utensils, the way you laugh every time he sneers at each course. halfway through the dinner, he’ll realize that he’s paying more attention to you than his own dinner. loki won’t wait for you to pick something to eat, not because he wants to see if you’re his type, but because he doesn’t care about what you want. you’ll eat what he orders, no exceptions. the more you go along with everything he says, the more he’ll start looking at you as more of a pet than inferior to him. at the end, if ur not absolutely done with the bs, he’ll drive to your place and look you up and down. as you squirm, he’ll smirk before pulling you into a kiss. you wont be able to fight the kiss, his grip on you strong. then, he’ll reach over, open the door, and tell you to get out. he’ll come back for later though when you’re least prepared.

“get your clothes, pet. you’re coming with me”

peter maximoff: shoplifting - he's all casual, looking to have fun. you walk in to the mall thinking you're going to go shopping as a first date, and he's gonna be late. he'll be watching you from afar to see if he likes you, first. he'll look at your outfit, the stores you go in, what kind of clothes you browse through. he'll speed in, grab your phone, and scroll through that. 30 minutes into your date time, he'll show up in front of you, dragging you off into one of the designer stores. its a test when he grabs the first shirt off the rack, he wants to see how you’d react. are you a prude or are you the one he's been waiting for? are you gonna get angry or just let him do his thing. he'll watch your face as he grabs more and more, seeing you react makes him chuckle. your face twisting in worry, glancing back behind your shoulder every time an employee walks over. he starts to enjoy getting you all riled up and anxious. he laughs every time you ask him to stop and tells you to just relax, he knows what he's doing. by the end of the night, your nerves are shot and you feel like throwing up every time you glance towards the bag of stolen goods. peter doesn't kiss you, but tells you he'll call you before speeding away and leaving you in the mall parking lot.

"don't worry, no one will find out what we're doing"

mammon: watching the stars - mammon will text you to meet him in the planetarium. he’ll have everything ready: a blanket, some snakes, and music. he knows you and he knows you love him already, this "first" date is just confirming to him that you're his. he'll be so sweet for the first time (and the last). he'll be complimenting you so much, calling you his sweet angel, his love, his lovely human. it'll be the little things though, that leave you on edge. the soft touches, the hand on the thigh, the hand too low on your back, the way he moves you to his lap. small things that leave you feeling gross. mammon would be so happy you choose him. he'd never show it, of course, but you'll see it with every hidden smile and the clammy hands. he'd tell you to lay down next to him and he'd force you to lay your head on his arm. every couple moments mammon would inch closer and closer, and soon you'll be a tangled mess of limbs. by the end of your date, mammon would be nuzzling into your neck and you're more rigid than a new pair of shoes. there is no walking back to your room with mammon, he'll keep you next to him till the next morning or take you to his room.

"you smell really nice. why're you moving away, come closer to me"

arvin russel: drive-in theater - arvin will come to your house to pick you up. he'll be jittery and the moment you climb into his car, he'll be heads over heels in love. your gorgeous smile, the way your outfit shines in the setting sun, the way your shoes sound on the dirt. he lives for the simple things that you do. he's seen you for 5 seconds and he's obsessed with you. he'll be a gentleman, getting out of the car to open your door, keeping his hands to himself the entire drive to the theater. you're so pure to him, so innocent, so clean unlike him. he'll be listening to you talk about your family and your life with so much attention. you'll blush when you finally feel his stare, but he'll just tell you to continue, saying that he likes hearing your voice as he drives. if you confess about someone that has hurt you, he'll store that information away, and reach for you hand. he'd glow if you accept. once you reach the theater, he'll go and get snacks, locking the doors just in case. by the time he's back, the movie would have started and you're engrossed in the movie, he'd watch you for a little while. the way your eyebrows furrow, the slight bit of your bottom lip, and he'd smile when you tense at the sound of him opening the door. you'll lean on him, sending his heart into a fit. he'll hid his smile with his hand as your grip on his other hand tightens. when the movie ends, he'll drive you back and you'll both talk about the movie. he'll walk you to your door. you'll stare at each other, blushing, before he leans in and you follow suit. to arvin, you both fit together perfectly. once he leaves you, he'll go take care of anyone that can stand in his way.

"you hurt her. you hurt my girl... you're gonna have to pay for that."

707: picnic in the woods - the both of you were on house arrest to stay away from the agency’s radar, so when seven saw the chance to finally take you on a proper first date…he took it. he wants to treat you like the princess you are, even if you weren’t that willing to be with him. he’d set everything up before the date and make saeran drop u off. he’ll meet you at the start with a trail of roses. he’ll have a hand on your arm the entire time to make sure that you don’t stray from the path, and once you get there, fairy lights strung up on the trees, a red and white plaid blanket laid carefully in the middle, cute cat plates, and a picnic basket overflowing with food. as much as you hated being around your obsessive lover, you couldn’t help but be in awe of his hard work. he brought food that you’d enjoy and different games to play as you guys talk. saeyoung would make your date the most aesthetically pleasing. from the cute summer dress he forced you to wear to the cakes in wine glasses, he’d make it a date fit for a princess. he’ll watch as you eat, taking note of the way you cover your mouth to hide your smile. he’ll watch you the entire time in awe of your beauty. no matter what you’re doing, saeyoung will file it away as beautiful. seven would notice how you watch him carefully as well, it seems like you’re planning your next move, but as you get up, he’ll pull you flat on the ground. his arms would wrap around your waist and you’ll hug him back. he kisses you with a passion, pressing against you, trying to show you how he feels without words. your knight… your savior… your god wants a kiss in return for protecting you. how can you refuse?

“i am your god, mc. i’ll always protect you.”

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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No Body, No Crime [Dave York x F!Reader]

Summary: When Dave York’s wife expresses her suspicion of him having an affair, you agree to help her gather the evidence to confront him. You believe that if you can prove his infidelity, their marriage will fall apart and you might actually stand a chance with him. But when you follow him out one night, you make a shocking discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, m receiving oral, f masturbation, choking, infidelity, murder

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3000>

Author’s Note: Please consider this my official application of entry to the Dave York pit. This one is quite intense. I’ve never written a thriller type fic before, so I hope it’s okay!

Masterlist

He had to have been cheating. There was no other excuse for sneaking out so late at night, and not returning until the early hours of the morning. His actions radiated infidelity. The only answer was that he was having an affair.

Dave York was the typical suburban dad living the perfect life with the perfect wife and two happy daughters. You would know as you were the York’s housemaid, and had the privilege of living with them. As an insider, it also meant you were a pair of extra spying eyes. And you watched Dave, a lot. It was only a matter of time before Carol caught on and realised something was up. So when she came to you one morning after Dave had set off to work, and the girls were at school, you could already sense her concerns.

If you recalled correctly, it was the fourth time this week he’d snuck out. You remembered last night, sitting by the attic window and watching him drive off into the distance. There was something about it that got you all riled up. You were ashamed to admit it -- but you were more than attracted to Mr. York. Once he was no longer in sight, you closed your eyes and slipped your fingers under the hem of your panties. You let out a puff of air as your digits found your clit and you began to rub tight little circles, squirming around in the wooden chair that you’d been sitting in. It creaked in the midst of the night, but getting so caught up in the moment, you didn’t even care if your movements or whimpers woke Carol up. You imagined Dave burying his cock deep inside you, moaning out your name. It was really bad, you knew that… but the truth is, if Dave wanted to fuck you next, you’d have no qualms. You’d let him. You’d beg him. With your free hand, you clutched the edge of the window sill so hard your knuckles turned white as you felt your body pull to its orgasm.

You stayed by the window for around two and a half hours after that, apprehending his return. If one thing was sure, it was that Dave made an effort to remain unseen. He dressed in all black, even opting to wear a hat to hide his brown locks of hair. You heard the keys jingle as he let himself into the house, this time via the back door because he knew it would be quieter. You heard his footsteps emerge up the stairs. Strangely enough, you heard the washer switch on as he would do his own laundry. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you had cleaned Dave’s clothes. Washing his clothes at four in the morning only made him even more suspicious, but you had to applaud his efforts.

“I think Dave is cheating on me,” Carol announced as you finished up doing the dishes. You felt your body stiffen at her tone, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her. She looked exhausted, nursing a cup of coffee and her bleached blonde hair tied into a messy bun. “He’s been… acting different,” she revealed sadly. “He slips out of bed at around one in the morning, every night. He comes back at four-ish, and I pretend to be asleep. But he undresses, and he smells like sweat. We don’t talk much anymore. I don’t think he loves me.” she confirmed, and you could tell she was trying to hold back unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.” was all you could offer her.

She sank down into the dining room chair and held her head in her hands. Carol wasn’t a bad woman -- but you couldn’t bring yourself to empathise with her. She was the lucky one who got to marry Dave in the first place… who got to bring up his two wonderful kids. She got to live in the big suburban house, and she got to drive the expensive family SUV. Clearly, she was struggling. Her suspicions of her husband cheating were eating her alive, and you knew from your own spying that he was certainly up to something. It must have sucked for her, but even if Dave was being unfaithful, she was still living your dream life.

“I think I’m going to call him out,” she confessed with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders. “I have to. I can’t keep living like this. It’s just… I have no evidence. No way to prove it.”

Carol had a point. If she was going to confront him, surely he’d just deny it and get mad. You liked Dave a lot, that much was clear, but maybe… in this scenario… you could be some use to Carol. If you could provide her with the evidence that he was cheating, then their marriage would inevitably fall apart. Then you could harness the chance to steal Dave away for yourself. This could actually work.

“I can help you,” you said suddenly, pulling out the chair opposite Carol and sitting beside her. “I can help you find what you need to expose Dave’s affair.”

Carol furrowed her eyebrows together in bewilderment, and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too excited about the prospect. “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked you with uncertainty.

You hummed, your mind weighing up the possible scenarios. “Uhm… well, next time he sneaks out I can watch him leave... and then I take your SUV and carefully follow him. I’ll try to snap some photos of him getting caught in the act.” you suggested and watched Carol wince at the thought of you seeing him with somebody else. Seriously… were you supposed to feel bad for her? Carol looked unsure but finally she sighed a breath of defeat and nodded her head, agreeing to your plan.

“Okay… but be careful you don’t get caught.” She warned.

“I’ll do it tonight,” you promised. “Don’t worry Carol, let me handle this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This time, when the night rolled over, you weren’t in the attic like usual. You were hiding out by the living room window downstairs which gave you quick and easy access to the front door. Once you were satisfied that Dave had driven an ample distance away from the house, you grabbed Carol’s car keys and jogged down the patio to her SUV. You knew the roads would be empty at this time of night, so it shouldn’t be too hard to lose sight of Dave. What would be hard though, is trying to remain unseen by him. Any car out on the roads at two in the morning would be suspicious. You figured you were doing a good job at staying back in the shadows.

To your surprise, Dave began to drive out of town and he headed towards the forest that peppered the outskirts of the little village he lived in. You knew that nobody lived in this area, and so why he was driving this far out was beyond you. Though, it only piqued your curiosity more, and so you continued to follow him.

You parked around ten feet behind him, the car tyres getting stuck in the dirt. You watched as Dave hopped out of his car and swung a black duffel bag over his shoulder. He ventured into the depths of the forest, amongst the tall trees, until eventually he was nowhere in sight. You sat in the driver's seat for a few moments, contemplating what exactly was going on. You didn't expect this at all. You figured that, all this time, he had in fact been driving to a different part of town, letting himself into someone else’s house and having an affair.

Then, the reality that he could still be having an affair struck you. You hopped out of the SUV and turned on your phone’s flashlight, helping you familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Dave’s clunky boots left a trail of footsteps in the mud, thankfully, which meant it was easy enough to track him down. You were making good progress and doing fine until you heard a man scream. And your heart sank in your chest.

The same voice cried out in terror, before another scream followed. Could it be Dave? Was he in danger? Your mind shot to what you believed to be the worst possible case and your light jogging turned into running as you followed the sound. You had to make sure Dave was okay.

As you got closer and closer, you began to hear a squelching noise and a series of grunts and groans. You noticed a figure, on his knees by a large tree trunk -- and evidently, he noticed the way your flashlight had highlighted his body. The masculine figure rose to his feet and dropped the knife to the ground before turning to face you.

It was Dave.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, removing his hat and stuffing it into his pocket.

“You… I--... you…” you were speechless, your gaze flicking between Dave and the corpse that he had tied to the tree. The screams you had heard earlier hadn’t come from Dave, but instead had come from the man he just murdered.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He repeated, malice dripping from his tongue. When you didn’t answer, he scoffed incredulously and pulled out a clean knife. He took only a few steps towards you, breaking any distance, and held the silver blade to your neck. The coolness of the metal stung your skin and your gaze fixated on his cold dark eyes in horror. “I’ll ask you one last time,” Dave whispered, his warm breath fanning over your jaw. “Sweet girl, tell me, why are you here?”

“Carol sent me…” you lied. “I didn’t want to. But-- but she thought you were cheating on her. She told me to follow you into the night and see where you ended up.”

“That bitch,” Dave huffed, taking a step back and shaking his head in disbelief. “And you were happy to betray me?”

“No!” you said defensively, your voice raising an octave. “She said if I didn’t, she’d fire me.”

“You should have come to me first.” Dave gritted out, his voice deep and his eyes locked on yours. God, he was hot. If he hadn’t just murdered someone, you’d be all over him.

“I know,” you gulped and made an effort to flutter your eyelashes apologetically. “I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Dave quizzed, tilting his head and wrapping a gloved hand around the column of your throat. He gave it an experimental squeeze.

“N-no,” you stammered out, biting your lower lip. “Scared of Carol.”

“And now that you know where I’ve been going every night. Now that you know that I’ve been murdering innocents… are you scared of me?” Dave rephrased after a moment of silence.

“No,” you confirmed again but with a shaky exhale. You raised your hand and cupped his cheek. The touch caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to this kind of affection from anyone. “Actually… it turns me on.”

Dave pulled away from you and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. “I never pinned you to be that kind of person.” he revealed, but if the tent in his pants was anything to go off, you knew that he liked it.

“I never pinned you to be a murderer.” you shot back with a sweet moan, licking a hot stripe along his jaw and maneuvering your hand along his broad chest.

Dave let his own gloved hand tangle in your hair before yanking your head back and forcing you to look at him.

“Not a murderer, just a cheater?” he questioned, venom in his tone.

“Mm, I’m sorry.” you whispered, and Dave began to push you down onto your knees.

“Show me,” he hissed, and you hungrily nodded your head.

In the darkness of the night, you began to undo his belt. Pulling it through the loops of his pants, you discarded it to the ground and then started to work at the zipper. You dipped your hand into his pants and pulled out his already hard cock. You couldn’t help but gasp at how heavy it felt in your hands.

You began to pump at his length, your fingers gathering the beads of precum that had dribbled out of his tip. “Let me fuck your mouth.” he commanded. You opened your mouth as wide as you could, preparing yourself for his girth, and stuck out your tongue. Dave chuckled darkly before thrusting his thick cock into your mouth.

His breathing hilted when you wrapped your lips and moaned around him, the noise sending vibrations through his body.

He pushed his entire length into you and then gently began to trace your throat with his index finger. The movements of his hands were achingly soft in comparison to the rough and messy nature of his thrusts. It didn’t take long for you to realise he was actually tracing the bulge that his thick cock had made there, and you gagged around him in response. He doubled back, pulling out of you and only giving you a second to catch your breath before fucking your mouth again.

His speech was slurred and his vision became hazy as he muttered words of degradation. “You little whore, sucking my cock in the middle of a fucking forest at night. Do you like this? Do you like taking my cock in your mouth?”

You could only hum in approval. You felt tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and his cock began to throb in your mouth. You knew he was close now. You brought your hands to his balls and began to massage them, and looked up through your lashes at Dave who had tossed his head back, the pleasure consuming him.

Without any warning, Dave came undone, his salty load shooting into your mouth. He brought his hands back down to your head and forced you to swallow him whole. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to do so, relishing his taste. Eventually, he let you pull off him, a mixture of his cum and your saliva creating a trail between his cock and your lips. He grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet before tucking himself back into his pants and zipping himself up.

“Well, I can’t murder you now.” he sighed, rubbing his jaw.

“Do you need me to help you hide the body?” you offered.

“No,” he replied. “I do all my murders in this forest because no one has visited in years. They decompose quickly too. I just leave them to rot.”

It sounded pretty risky, you thought, but evidently, Dave knew what he was doing. He must have been doing this for a long time. “Oh okay…” you mumbled. “I’ll just… head back to the car then.”

You spun around on your heel and took a few steps in the direction you came before you heard Dave call your name. You froze and waited for him to speak.

“I’m going to kill Carol,” he said, the five words echoing amongst the trees around you. “And I need you to be my alibi.”

“M-murder Carol? But why?” you asked, honestly feeling a little uneasy at this point. You trusted Dave, you really did. But Carol had sent you out to try and evidence the fact he was cheating on you. In the past half hour, you’d witnessed her husband murder someone, and then you had proceeded to give him what could quite possibly have been the best blow of his life.

“She thought I was cheating on her,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost sinister. “She has betrayed my trust.”

You wanted to throw in the fact that he had actually just cheated on her, with you, but you decided that might not have been the best idea. He needed to know that you were on his side. You hadn’t realised the length of time you’d stayed silent for. Clearly, had been too long for Dave’s liking.

“Are you going to betray my trust?” Dave queried and you shook your head ‘no’ profusely. “Good.”

“Good thing I’ve cleaned enough houses in my time to know how to cover up a scene,” you said softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “And it’s a good thing I helped Carol take out a big life insurance policy.” your lips curled into a smile.

“So we do it tonight,” Dave whispered, his thumb grazing the height of your cheekbone. “We go home together, and I’ll kill her. I’ll take her body to the forest and you clean up before daylight.”

“What about the girls?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Dave picked up his belt and the bloodied knife before throwing them haphazardly in his duffle bag. “Good thing they’ll still be living with another, amazing woman that they can look up to once their mother is gone,” he smirked, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. “I’ll call the cops tomorrow morning and file a missing person’s report for Carol.”

“Will it work?” you wondered out loud.

“Do you trust me?”

Maybe you were foolish, but as you contemplated his words, you realised that you really did trust this suburban murder dad.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york smut

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mermaidxatxheart · 3 years ago

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Better Together Chapter 4

Okay, y'all. I'm posting this just before I go on vacation. If you want to be added to my tag lists, send an ask. My work is not to be reposted anywhere. A big thank you to those who have proof-read this for me. I don't know what I would do without you.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, violence, angst. This is where it gets rough.

Chapter 3

Chapter Four

You sit up violently with a scream, clutching at your chest, but it’s not really your chest you’re worried about. You scramble for your friend, but he’s not at the edge of the cave, it’s still dark outside. You’ve probably been asleep for an hour, no more than two.

“Poe!” You call frantically. “Dameron!”

He skids back into the entrance, back into your blessed view, buckle undone on his trousers. “Hey, I’m right here. What happened?” He asks, reaching for your arms.

Your hands press shakily against his chest, desperate to feel his solid heartbeat. “I—“ you stutter.

It was just a dream.

“You’re freezing.” He comments, rubbing your arms to get you warm.

“Wh-what were you doing outside?” You ask, teeth starting to chatter as the shivering hits you.

“Taking a leak. I was just outside.” He leads you back over to the fire and drapes his jacket around your shoulders. “Here, sit in front of the fire, sweetheart. Let’s get you warm.” He builds the fire back up, and while the heat of it dances across your skin, it never goes any deeper.

He starts to stand up but you grab his wrist pleadingly. “Don’t leave me?” You whisper. He seems taken aback by the sheer desperation in your voice, so he nods and settles behind you.

“Close your eyes. I’m right here.” He says softly and you pull his arm around you, needing him close. He presses his forehead to the back of yours and you can feel his breath on your neck. You can feel your hands trembling as you clutch at his and he holds you tighter.

“Do you think,” he starts, lifting his head to speak softly into your ear. You start at the noise and turn to listen better. “Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now because of how much she misses me?” He asks quietly and your lips pull up at the corners against your will.

“I’m sure she’s managing somehow. It’s difficult, but I think she can hold on.” You reply, shifting to lay your head back down.

“I hope so. I’d hate to be the reason she suffers so.” He says dramatically and you snort loudly before you can stop yourself. “Bless you.” He adds, his voice dripping with a grin.

“You definitely cause her to suffer.” You mutter and he squeezes your side, exactly where you hate. You squeal and squirm, trying to get away, but he grabs you and presses you flush against him.

“You’re so mean to me.” He sighs, dropping his head against your shoulder, but his nonsense worked, you feel a little better as he holds you so you can sleep.

***

Poe Dameron is…. confusing. And soft. Big giant Ewok. Ever since you woke up this morning, he’s been gentle. Cracking jokes to get you to smile, walking next to you instead of in front of you, taking your hand more often.

About mid morning, you stop for a break. Your legs don’t feel any better and you almost wish you had taken Poe up on his offer to massage them. You ease down onto a log and he hands you some food from his pack.

You close your eyes against the light, sweat trickling down the back of your neck. No matter how many times you wipe it away, more takes its place. You can see Poe in your mind’s eye, leaning against the trunk of the tree across from you, legs crossed at the ankles. You can hear him chewing on the snack he noisily unwrapped.

You can hear a strange noise, almost like a whooshing, or a whistling as something big moves through the air. You try to open your eyes to look around, but your lids won’t cooperate. You feel something swing past your ear, rustling your hair into your face. A big spiked log heading straight for Poe. You scream his name, trying to move to get to him. The spiked log flattens against the tree and you see his legs go slack. You scream, the sound ripping from your throat in anguish as you struggle against whatever is holding you in place.

“Y/N! Y/N!!” Poe’s voice reaches you. He’s shaking you roughly as you fight against his hands. It takes you a minute to realize he’s the one holding you, and another to pry your eyes open and look at him. He’s blurry, confusingly so, until you realize you’re crying. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m right here.” He says, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m right here.” The tears spill over and he brushes them away with his thumbs, searching your face. “You fell asleep on me.” He says, half a smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t like it here.” You whisper, throat sore from the scream. “I don’t like it.” You shake your head, dropping it against his chest. His big hand cradles the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

“I know. Just a couple more days and then we’ll go tell Leia that this planet won’t work.” He promises.

“Except it’s almost perfect.” You groan.

“Not if it’s doing this to you. Hey, look at me.” He says gently, guiding your head back. “Wanna leave? We’ll go back right now.”

You want to. You want to take him up on it so badly. Your hands twitch towards his, but you force them to stay still. “No. We have a mission to complete.” You mumble and he sighs.

“Alright. Just say the word, sweetheart, and we’re gone.” He assures you and you nod.

***

“Know what I would kill for right now?” He huffs, lifting you over a log.

“A more capable partner?” You mutter dully.

“Ice cream. Cold, sweet, melty, chocolate, beebleberry, denta bean.” He hums, wiping his face. “Mmm. Denta bean.” He licks his lips and your eyes are suddenly drawn to them. He’s hot. His face is flushed from sweating and so much hiking. He needs to take a break.

“Hey, hey. Poe.” You grab his arm and he spins into you abruptly. “Sit. You need water.” You tell him, pushing him down onto the ground. He pulls you into his lap with him and you can’t stop the smile that cracks through.

“Are you okay?” He asks, tucking hair behind your ear as you fumble for his canteen.

“I’m fine. I promise I won’t fall asleep this time.” You say.

“You can sleep on me any time.” He huffs. You pick up his canteen and frown.

“Drink.” You insist, holding the skein to his soft lips.

He parts them, allowing the cool liquid to flow in. His dark eyes never leave you as he drinks. After a few seconds, he captures your wrist and lowers it.

“We either need to find a safe water source, or head back to the ship.” You say after a minute. “We’re almost out of water.”

“You’re the boss.” He cracks a smile, adjusting his head against the rough bark.

“Technically, you’re the commander on this mission.” You remind him.

“Oh yeah? Well, technically, you’re smarter.” He admits shamelessly and you roll your eyes.

“Ever have fried ice cream from Corellia?” You ask, shifting to sit back next to him.

“No. Is it delicious? It sounds pointless. Wouldn’t it melt?”

“Nope. They do this thing to it that super freezes it so it only gets a little soft in its crispy shell.” The taste of it, salty and sweet ghosts across your tongue and you clamp down on the sound wanting to escape. “After this is over, we’ll go and I’ll buy you some.” You promise.

“It’s a date.” He says, dropping his hand onto your thigh in the absolute most friendly way possible, but your stomach still flip-flops in your midsection.

“You know, this is the dumbest mission ever. We’ve been sent to a planet that’s never been explored and we’re wandering around aimlessly trying to map it in just a couple days.” You groan.

“Know what I think?” He says, turning his handsome face to look at you.

“That Leia must have been desperate to get you out of her perfect hair? I just don’t see why she had to drag me down with you.” You sigh and he drops his head forward, chuckling.

“You’re so funny.” He says and then lunges, capturing you around your waist and rolling you both into the ground as you shriek. You cling to his shoulders as you land on your back, his hands cradling your head to protect it from the hard ground.

“Jerk.” You huff. Then you blink, seeming to realize just how close his face is to yours. His soft brown eyes are searching yours, his charming smile slowly fading.

Bryce’s smiling face flashes in your mind’s eye and you twist your face away with a groan. He blinks in confusion.

“You weigh a ton.” You protest and a soft chuckle skates across your cheek.

“All muscle, sweetheart.”

“Sure. If muscle here means bantha burgers.” You tease, but it’s fake. Regret settles low in your belly and you’re absolutely not sure if it’s regret at not kissing Poe, or letting it go so far. Unfortunately, Poe Dameron is literally the easiest person in the galaxy to be around.

“Maker, you’re mean when you’re—“ he cuts off and pushes himself off you.

“When I’m what?” You prompt.

“...camping.” He says finally and you know that’s not even close to what he was gonna say.

“We should keep moving. Find some water.” You mumble, pushing yourself up and gathering your things.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” He joins you once more, but this time in silence.

***

His shoulders are tense. Pulled almost all the way up to his ears. His shirt catches at his spine, bunching at the gap at his neck and sticking to the rest of him. He hasn’t spoken in over an hour and you’re terrified that he’s mad at you.

You follow dutifully behind him now, no longer next to him as you were this morning. A dozen times, you’ve opened your mouth to call his name. But then you shrink back, hiding in your own cowardice.

The image of that knife plunging into his chest slams into you full force and you squeak, mouth opening, his name on your lips before you can catch it this time.

“Sh, you hear that?” He asks, holding up his hand to stop you in your tracks.

Bubbling, the sound of a river flowing swiftly. Water. He turns to glance at you before his hand latches tightly onto yours and then he’s pulling. He drags you along, hardly able to keep up. You round the base of a tree and there it is, crystal clear, blue, fast enough to be safe. You quickly mark it on your holopad, noting the direction it’s flowing in. Poe steps forward, but you pull him back, fear twisting you.

“Let me test it first.” You say quietly, avoiding his eyes. You dig into your bag and pull out your kit, dipping it into the water at the bank’s edge. You fill a small vial and dump the tester chemicals into it. You swirl it around as they change colors and you hold it up for him.

“Is blue good?” He asks warily.

“Blue is good.” You confirm and he drops his bag, giving a loud, echoing whoop that disturbs a butterfly resting nearby. He scoops you up in his arms, pulling your bag off and swinging you around as he walks you into the freezingwater.

You shriek, holding onto him as it stings your legs. “Poe!” You protest and he laughs, sinking down to his waist, and Maker, it’s even fucking colder.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” He moans loudly, sinking in up to his shoulders. After the initial shock, you do have to admit that the cool water is lowering your body temperature considerably. You duck under the surface, holding your breath and getting your sweaty hair wet.

You come back to the surface to see him watching you. “Better than ice cream?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing jubilantly.

“A million times better.” He agrees.

“We should refill.” You say, thinking again. You head for the shore, grabbing both of your canteens and holding them under the water. They fill to the very brim and you screw the lids back on, enjoying the heavy feel of them once again.

“Are you done?” He asks from directly behind you and you jump.

“How do you move so quietly in fucking water?” You ask, turning to face him.

“Special skill.” He says shortly, a toss away answer.

“Poe,” you start. You want to apologize for this morning, the abrupt shut out.

“Sh.” He says, applying just a little pressure to your shoulders until you sink to your knees, shivering in the frigid water. He moves behind you, tipping your head back gently until your neck is stretched as far as it’ll go.

“I’m sorry,” you start again.

“Sh.” He hushes you again, his big hands fill with water and he lets it flood your hair. The cool water instantly dispels the heat in your scalp and it feels so good. Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps doing it. He guides you to lean forward slightly as he pulls your hair out of the way. More scoops of water splash over your burning neck, sending chills down your spine.

You stare at your rippling reflection in the water, Poe behind you, taking care of you. Always fucking taking care of you.

Oh.

Maker, you’re blind.

You blink the tears away, choosing to pretend that it’s the river water. You grab his hand awkwardly from behind you to stop him and you stand up, turning to face him.

Your best friend, probably the only person you’ve ever cared about more than yourself.

“Poe,” you breathe, your fingers curling into the front of his soaked shirt.

Why fight it?

“Y/N?”

You tug, just hard enough to let him know what you want. He moves forward, closing the distance and then your lips are on his. They’re soft, and currently immobile under yours as the shock settles in. But that’s okay. Your hands slide up to hold his face, curling around his ears. You shift, lips moving against his, and he snaps out of it, opening his mouth for you. His hands blaze a trail down to your waist as he pulls you closer, pressing you against his chest. You lick into his mouth as he moans, fingers twisting into your shirt. He kisses you harder, more urgently than you’ve ever been kissed by anyonebefore. Your fingers card through his hair, holding him as close as you can. Your heart is slamming against your ribs at the taste of him.

“Well, what do we have here? Two resistance rats.” A voice says and you jump apart, your heart coming to a dead stop in your chest.

Three StormTroopers stand on either side of the bank, blasters aimed directly at you. Poe reaches for his own blaster, but a laser pointer trained right over your heart stops him.

“Try it. Please. I’m begging you. I haven’t been so bored in ages. A little target practice would be great.” One of them snarks.

“You could probably use it, too.” Poe says before he can stop himself.

“Out.” Another one orders, waving his gun and gesturing.

Poe hesitates. He wants to fight, it’s what he does. There’s only three of them, after all. But then, you’re there, in harm’s way. You think back to your comment this morning about him getting a more capable partner. You’ve never wished for anything harder.

One of the troopers pulls the hammer back, leveling the blaster at you. Poe looks at you, gritting his teeth together before trudging to the edge of the water. You follow, hating that he’s giving up because of you, because you’re so weak. You hate that you got him caught, because you distracted him with a kiss.

And then guilt floods you as your hands are handcuffed behind your back roughly. The kiss. You wonder if it even matters now, you probably won’t make it home to tell Bryce the truth anyway.

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from filling you. You wish you had taken Poe up on his offer to leave this morning. Now you’ve gotten him caught. They nudge you in the direction of the river, downstream and Poe glances over his shoulder at you, his usually warm eyes cold.

You’re a terrible friend.

Chapter 5

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ardent-musings · 4 years ago

Note

hi! can you do a remus lupin x reader smut where he was really nervous to tell you he liked you and all the marauders tease him for it but are like about time when you finally get together thanks you i love your writing!

“Study Buddies”

Remus Lupin Smut

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral (f receiving), Public Space

They thought they were being quiet. every attempt they made to keep their voices lowered was done in vain, James and Sirius didn’t know how to be quiet if someone put a silencing spell on them. of course this would lead to Remus slapping them silly while Peter watched and chuckled at the frustrated boy.

You were standing outside the Charms classroom, eavesdropping on the four of them as James was making fun of Remus yet again. A little voice told you it was wrong, but at the mention of your name you figured it was alright to listen in.

“Mate, shut it!”

“Well, c’mon, Moony,” James chuckled, “Make your move already. It’s getting embarrassing at this point.”

“If you don’t get cracking, I may just ask her out myself,” Sirius mocked.

“Look, I’ll do it, eventually.”

Remus was stuttering a bit and there was a part of you that wanted to comfort him. You had a feeling he was interested in you given all the longing looks across the Great Hall and how he stiffened when you sat next to him in class. He was sweet and always willing to help you. You’d be lying if you denied your feelings for him as well.

Before you could stop yourself, you skipped into the room and stood before the boy in question. He looked up at you with wide worried eyes as the other boys tried to hold back their smirks.

“Remus I was wondering if you’d wanna study for Transfiguration later?” you hummed. “You’re the best student and I could really use you help.”

He swallowed hard and wrangled his sweater covered hands together nervously.

“Uh, yeah! Of course, I could help you,” his smile started to spread on his scarred face. “How about tonight at the library?”

You could tell he was nervous, although you didn’t think he had to be. Remus was a great catch. If anyone couldn’t see it then they were mad.

After agreeing to his suggestion you moved to the back of the Charms classroom, smirking when the other three boys patted him aggressively on the back. The rest of the day couldn’t fly fast enough for you.

You were sitting in a secluded area of the library, trying to hide your excitement as best you could, your leg was bouncing beneath the table. It was later in the night, close to closing time and you were beginning to worry Remus wasn’t going to show. Maybe you were reading the signs wrong or his friends were just being asses about the whole thing. But the longer you sat there, the worse your anxiousness became.

“Hey, hey! Sorry, I forgot I had detention,” Remus was panting as he got to your table, your nerves releasing in a second.

His face was flushed and he giggled nervously, clutching his books to his chest as he took a seat beside you. You assumed he’s sit across from you but your stomach felt fuzzy as you felt his knee knock against yours. He looked so pretty, all out of breath and frazzled.

“I was worried you backed out,” you smiled at him.

“Me? Back out? No, I would never, not when it comes to you.”

He opened his book to the chapter you had been going over in class but the words on the papers were the least interesting thing to you at the moment. His admission made your heart jump, and the sound of his low yet animated voice was beginning to affect you. You stared at him blankly, enjoying how his long lashes brushed the top of his cheeks every time he smiled.

“I heard what they said,” you blurted, mentally slapping yourself for being so careless.

He immediately quieted, moving to rub at the back of his neck.

“I was afraid you might have,” he chuckled.

“Is it true, thought?”

Without another word, Remus looked up at your and nodded his head. His posture was humped, making his tall frame suddenly appear small.

“Well, I like you too.”

He shot up in his seat, surprised at your casual confirmation, his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. His toothy grin made you chuckle, it was the loudest sound in the whole library since everyone else had left.

Feeling confident, you hooked your leg over his own, the skirt you were wearing hiked up a bit higher on your thigh. You didn’t mean for that to happen, but you felt comfortable when Remus grabbed one of your hands in his bigger ones.

“Well then would it be completely ridiculous if I were to kiss you right now?”

And his boyish charm that you had seen and admired from afar was back. Any trace of jitters was gone as you stated at the sweet boy beside you. With a smile, you grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his bushy head in for a kiss.

Remus chuckled against your lips, a large hand caressed your cheek as the other settled onto your bare knee. Your face heated up at the feeling of being touched by him, but he tasted like chocolate and sin. It was an intoxicating combination.

Your fingers fisted his curls when he bit down on your bottom lip, both of you let out frustrated sighs. Before dipping in to kiss him again, you both were startled at the clanking of the library doors and the lights dimming, the only source of light were from the table top lamps that were scattered.

“Looks like we’re alone,” Remus grumbled against your hot throat, taking a moment to bite gently at your skin. “Merlin, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” you giggled playfully.

His brows quirked at your remark and began to kneed at your thigh, instantly making you gasp. This wasn’t what you had planned when you asked him to study, but you couldn’t fight just how affected you were by Remus’s touch. And he knew that you were enjoying it from the way you were leaning into his touch.

You were becoming frustrated, you just wanted Remus as close to you as possible, so you grabbed his hand that was on your thigh and pushed it a bit higher on your leg.

“Want me to touch you, darling?” He groaned into your mouth. Instead of answering you just pushed his hand higher up until he got the hint. “I guess that’s a yes.”

Before going further he pushed away from his chair, hooking his hands under your thighs to place you on top of the library table. His mouth traced your neck, the tops of your shoulders and the bit of skin that was exposed behind your button up. With a satisfied smirk, he gripped your thighs and kissed the inside of your knee as he sat back down. His kisses were sweet and soft on your legs, making you whimper as his hand bunched your skirt at your waist. You were about to close your legs, but Remus’s wondrous expression at your body kept you relaxed.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me, love,” he whispered with a soft smile.

Your fingers traced over the deep scar on his face before lacing them in his thick hair, slightly tugging him closer to you. His kisses trailed up your thigh, leaving you antsy until he finally kissed over your wet panties.

At the sight of you in front of him and your sweet sighs, Remus dipped in hungrily, lapping at you through your thin garment. You could’ve sworn he growled lowly, but as he hooked your underwear out of the way and tasted you fully, thinking straight was not an option. Remus was absolutely desperate to get off the one person his friends had been teasing him about for months, and now he finally had you open and wanting for him. It stroked his ego, but your needy whines was beginning to affect him.

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, squirming at his relentless tongue and fingers that had joined the equation. The air in your lungs seemed to deplete as Remus hungrily ate you, worshiping how turned on you were. He could tell you were getting close as you grabbed his neck and tried humping his glistening chin. But Remus didn’t pine after you for so long to not get to feel you around him.

With a smug grin, he released your legs, leaving you desperately groaning at the loss. Remus took great pride in how you whined for him, the sounds only got louder as he stood tall and began undoing his belt. Your gaze was transfixed on his nimble fingers, missing their touch but reveling in how they brought you one step closer to getting what you wanted.

Remus dropped his pants, just low enough to be able to slip his hand into his boxer and pulling himself out.

“If it’s alright with you, doll, I would like to see you cum on my cock, yeah?”

With a hazy smile, you nodded excitedly, making the charming boy in front of you chuckle. The way you looked beneath him would be burned into his memory for life.

After pumping himself slowly, he grazed his erection against you, rejoicing in how you jerked at the feeling. His other hand grabbed at your back, making you sit up so he could kiss you as he slowly slid in. You both gasped at the feeling and smiled against your kiss. It was slow and passionate, everything you wanted from him.

His slow rocking turned into a torturous rhythm, making you moan for more. At your pretty groans, Remus started to snap his hips against you, silencing his own moans by nibbling at your neck. You couldn’t believe how good it was to feel Remus, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and cry, your breath was becoming less frequent.

Your clothes were suffocating you, sticking to your skin as the heat between your legs grew to be unbearable. His rocking, and kissing and throaty growls were too much, making you grip and pull on his hair tightly.

“Fuck, you better be close, love,” he sighed, “’cause you’re squeezing me too good right now.”

His filthy words made you giggle, but the sound was stuck in your throat once Remus began rubbing your clit in firm tiny circles. You had to bite down on his sweater collar, his attention to your body was overwhelming.

After a few more thrusts and swipes against your clit, you fell back on the table and covered your mouth as you came. It was powerful, and only grew more intense as Remus chased his own high. Although with the way you were gripping him, it only took him a few more pumps until he finished with a groan.

His upper body fell against you, heaving as he was exhausted by both his exertion and the way you made him feel. The dark glow of the room hid the burning blush that rose to his cheeks as he realized what had just happened. But your sweet brushing of his hair calmed him immediately.

Gently he pulled out of you and fixed your clothes, making sure you looked relatively decent despite your current position. Once you both got comfortable you decided to call it a night, ignoring any plans of studying.

The next morning you woke with a smile on your face, despite running late to Charms class. You ached a bit with every step you took, but it was a wonderful reminder of your fun with Remus.

When you stepped into the classroom, you couldn’t help but notice how James, Sirius, and Peter were smirking at you while Remus hid his head behind is robe sleeves. All at once the three boys stood up and gave you a slow clap, making your face glow once you realized why they were applauding you. Remus immediately picked up his book and began smacking them, which only made you laugh at the sweet boy who turned to you with a dazzling smile. You were happy to have him.

(This was my first smut request so I hope you liked it!)

#remus lupin smut #remus request #anon request #lupin smut #marauders smut

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contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

Text

five times geralt saw jaskier naked on accident + one time it was entirely on purpose. ~6k. Read on AO3 here!

“Get back here, you mangy knob!” echoes down the hallway, and Geralt pauses on the way to his room.

It’s been a long night, and Geralt would like nothing better than to collapse into bed, but trouble has a habit of following Jaskier like flies to shit. He’s the whole reason Geralt even has a bed for the night, so Geralt sighs and follows the shouting.

He wishes he could say he’s surprised when he rounds a corner and Jaskier runs head first into him, but honestly, it’s nothing short of expected. What does throw Geralt for a loop, though, is the fact that Jaskier is completely naked, expanses of smooth skin exposed as he sprawls back on the ground in a very undignified manner, clutching his nose.

“Fuck, Geralt!” he cries, but it comes out garbled. “You broke my nose!”

The man who was chasing after Jaskier comes to a sudden halt, panting in front of them. “He slept with my wife!”

Geralt frowns. “Are you sure it was him?”

The man gapes and gestures at Jaskier’s nakedness. Geralt curses Jaskier for being so obvious; it makes his job much more complicated.

“Maybe he can give you some tips on how to satisfy her so she doesn’t feel the need to look elsewhere next time,” Geralt suggests, one hand coming up to casually rest on the hilt of his dagger strapped to his belt.

“It’s all about the tongue,” Jaskier pipes up in a nasally tone, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

The man’s eyes dart from Geralt to Jaskier, and back to Geralt before a look of realization crosses his face and it drains of color. “You’re… the butcher of Blaviken?”

“That’s him! So you’d best get back to your chambers if you want to keep all your limbs!” Jaskier crows, but only half of it is intelligible through the hand he’s holding to his nose.

The man looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but he bites his lip and retreats, after one last withering glance at Jaskier.

Geralt turns to Jaskier, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing. “Will you ever learn?” he asks in exasperation. “I’m not always going to be around to clean up your messes, you know.”

“I’m fairly certain you have a much longer life expectancy than me,” Jaskier lisps, looking up at Geralt with doe eyes.

Geralt sighs and sticks out a hand to help Jaskier up.

Jaskier takes it, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh of Geralt’s forearm, and heaves himself up. His hand stays on Geralt’s arm, and Geralt drags him back to their room.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, rustling around in his pack for a clean rag.

He steps over to the wash basin and dips it in before walking back to over Jaskier. He wipes the blood away from Jaskier’s nose gently, but an observer wouldn’t think so from the way Jaskier winces and groans.

Geralt sighs. “Serves you right.”

“That’s just cruel, Geralt.” Jaskier squirms on the bed, pulling a corner of the blanket over his lap.

Geralt resolutely focuses on his face. He squints at Jaskier’s nose, which is just the slightest bit crooked. “This is going to hurt,” Geralt warns. “One, two.”

Jaskier yelps as Geralt sets his nose back into its proper place, finishing up dabbing the blood away before he packs Jaskier’s nose full of gauze. “There,” he says. “Good as new.”

There are tears welling in Jaskier’s eyes from the pain. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he says weakly.

“Maybe you’ll be able to go more than a week without cuckolding another husband this time.”

Jaskier lets out an indignant snort. “Hey, sometimes I just sleep with the husbands themselves. Then I have to watch what I eat, though,” he blathers on, and Geralt is honestly impressed with the lengths of his chatter even when Geralt imagines it must be painful to speak. “Have sex with one wrong person, and all of a sudden everyone and their mother is trying to poison you.”

Geralt’s not sure how to respond.

Jaskier sighs and turns over in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Try not to drown in your own blood.”

“Always nice to know you care.”

And then, almost too softly for Jaskier to hear, “Good night, Jask.”

ii.

Geralt jerks awake and sits up in his bed roll. The fire is crackling happily, a far cry from the smoldering logs Geralt would have expected. He looks around, and Jaskier is gone. Normally, this would worry him, but if Jaskier took the time to stoke their fire, that probably means he hasn’t been eaten. Most likely.

The slight chance that something untoward has happened propels Geralt out of the warmth of his blankets. He tugs on his boots and follows the faint scent of Jaskier, a warm mix of wood smoke and contentedness, these days.

His nose leads him to the river bank, and he hovers right on the edge of the tree line, scouting for any possible dangers. He doesn’t see any, but as he does his sweep, his gaze catches on Jaskier’s bare back and lingers there. There’s a smattering of freckles that Geralt can just barely make out, until they disappear when Jaskier dunks his hair under the water.

Geralt knows that he should stop just standing here, should either reveal himself or just slink back to their camp and start packing things up, but he finds himself rooted in place as Jaskier rubs a rag over his shoulder blades.

Geralt is half tempted to offer his help in reaching Jaskier’s back, but he knows how that would probably be received.

Geralt is transfixed as Jaskier begins to sing, and he sinks down to sit with his back to a tree to listen. Jaskier is always wanting his opinion on his songs, so surely he’d be fine with this, right?

It's not fair, oh, it's not fair how much I love you

It's not fair, 'cause you make me ache, you bastard

And he'll say

Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

And I'll stand—

Geralt’s jerked out of his trance of listening to Jaskier sing in his honeyed tones by a disturbance in the water, and Geralt focuses in on the ripples that are starting to froth before a drowner emerges, its scaly skin glistening in the morning light. Jaskier screams, and Geralt leaps from his hiding spot, unsheathing his sword.

Jaskier turns to look at the new disturbance with wide eyes, minutely relaxing when he sees it’s Geralt. Geralt jumps into the water, landing on the drowner’s back. It jerks and bucks, deceptively strong as it tries to toss Geralt off. Geralt hooks his hands around its neck, his sword gripped precariously.

The drowner gives one last shake, and Geralt goes flying, his sword falling with a splash. There’s a clawed, webbed hand on Geralt’s head, forcing him under the water. He thrashes, trying to get free, but to no avail. Geralt keeps his mouth tightly shut, and his lungs start to burn as he continues to fight.

Bright spots start to dance at the edge of his vision, getting darker and fuzzier now, and Geralt knows he’s right on the verge of losing consciousness. He’s unable to stop his gasp for air, but only water finds his lungs. He’s resigned himself to this being the way it ends when suddenly the grip goes lax and he’s able to propel himself to the water’s surface, gasping for breath.

“Geralt? Geralt?” comes a worried voice, floaty and distant sounding. “Geralt, are you okay?”

There’s a pounding on his back, and water dribbles from his lips. A litany of curses follow and sharp tugs on his arm that lead him back to the bank.

Geralt coughs and splutters, more water escaping him as he finally registers Jaskier pacing around anxiously... completely naked. Geralt chokes, and Jaskier is there in an instant, a warm hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles.

“You’re okay,” he croons with a gentle pat.

Geralt doesn’t feel okay. He feels like he about died and is seconds away from doing it again via spontaneous combustion at the sight of all Jaskier’s skin on display. Geralt picks a spot on the distance and fixes his gaze on it.

“Good thing you were around,” Jaskier says finally, and Geralt burns in shame at the thought of why exactly he was there.

He’s lucky Jaskier isn’t running away in repulsion, like he would be if he knew the truth.

Jaskier asks him if he’s okay yet again, and Geralt grunts.

“Oh, goody, you’re well enough for monosyllabic conversation. Back to normal, then.”

Geralt grunts again, and Jaskier laughs, a delightful trilling thing.

“Oh, here you go,” Jaskier says, handing Geralt back his sword that’s covered in monster guts and ichor.

Geralt’s eyes do not bug out as the realization hits him. “You… you?”

“Well, it was drowning you! I couldn’t just stand around, now could I?”

“I...suppose not,” Geralt mutters, but in actuality, he can count on one hand the number of times someone’s actually come to his aid while he was fighting a monster. The most he can wish for is someone who won’t recoil as they patch up his wounds later.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting a bit,” Jaskier pauses, “distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly.

“Well, I guess it’s not every day you have a near death experience,” Jaskier muses, “Oh, wait.”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to save your sorry ass so often.” Geralt shoves at him and instantly flushes red as his hand touches Jaskier’s bare skin and he registers again that he’s naked.

“Put on some clothes,” Geralt mumbles, averting his eyes.

There’s a heavy silence as Geralt waits for Jaskier to say something in response, some sort of rib, but nothing comes, just the soft swish of fabric as he gets dressed.

Geralt grits his teeth.

iii.

Geralt trudges down the rocky path, Roach just behind him. The trail from Kaer Morhen is downright treacherous at the best of times and fatal at worst, so Geralt would rather walk than risk Roach making a wrong step and sending them both pitching off a cliff.

Not that that would be entirely unwelcome, after the winter Geralt has just endured. Eskel and Lambert took great pride in elbowing Geralt and making him the butt of their every joke, saying in glee that they could smell the longing drifting off of him.

“Is Geralt in loooove?” Lambert had sang, until Geralt shoved him off his chair to shut him up.

Lambert tumbled to the floor with a clatter of his armor, but he still wore his unbearably smug expression. Eskel had looked at him with soft eyes. “You could have brought them here, you know. I want to know whoever can make you happy.”

“Yeah, we all know how impossible that is for Mr. Melancholy,” Lambert said.

Geralt shakes his head and puts his focus back on putting one foot in front of the other. The other witchers had endlessly pestered him about his plans for the spring, but Geralt hadn’t wanted to tell them. He likes Jaskier being just for him, and he had waited impatiently for the snow to melt in the pass. He was the first to set out, and he valiantly tried to ignore Lambert’s snickers as he left.

Geralt is headed to Oxenfurt. He and Jaskier hadn’t made set plans to meet up, because it normally doesn’t take too long for them to accidentally on purpose run into each other, but this year, Geralt doesn’t want to wait. The winter had stretched out into much longer than normal, with biting cold and piles of snow, so Geralt is more than ready to be warm again.

When the path finally stops twisting and turning, Geralt mounts Roach and picks up their pace a bit. It’s certainly only because he’s eager to sleep in a bed, never mind that he’s been sleeping in one all winter.

Geralt pulls his hood up against the early spring chill and soldiers on.

When Geralt finally arrives, several days and sleepless nights later, it’s just before dawn. Jaskier has always had a proclivity towards nocturnal behavior, with only Geralt’s need to be up and moving at first light tempering it, so Geralt doesn’t think Jaskier will mind the intrusion.

Geralt ties Roach to a hitching post, promising to come back and find her a stable once the sun breaks over the horizon, and then he wanders until streets start to look familiar, and Jaskier’s cozy house comes into view.

Geralt steps up to the door and knocks, and he definitely does not try to tame his hair into some semblance of kempt or get an anxious churning in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Jaskier again. There’s no answer to his knock, so he tries again, but Jaskier still doesn’t materialize. Geralt tries the knob, and to his alarm, it’s unlocked.

His first thought is one of panic—what if something’s wrong? Jaskier wouldn’t just leave his door unlocked; someone could walk right in and steal his lute. Geralt opens the door quietly and creeps through the dark house. There are no immediate signs that there’s anything amiss. There are only three rooms, and Geralt eases the bedroom door open to peek inside. He’s immediately arrested by Jaskier sprawled out naked on his bed.

Geralt takes a hurried step back, but not before his eyes dart all over Jaskier’s body. He’s just taking stock of any new injuries Jaskier might have incurred while Geralt wasn’t around to protect him from the wrath of cuckolded husbands, that’s all. Jaskier looks paler and more gaunt than he was when Geralt left him, but Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of winter.

Geralt retreats slowly, locking the door behind him and resolving to come back when the sun is high in the sky.

Geralt stumbles onto the street, the early morning light making everything washed out as he scuffs his boots along the ground. He meanders back the way he came, deciding he’ll stable Roach and then see about something for breakfast. He hadn’t felt hungry in his haste to get to Jaskier, but now that his enthusiasm has been tempered, he’s starving. He tries to remember the last time he stopped to eat something more substantial than whatever he could pull out of his pack. Two, three, days ago, maybe?

Roach comes into view, pawing her hoof against the dirt impatiently. Geratlt huffs a laugh as he walks closer, untying her reins from the hitch and clicking his tongue as he leads her in a direction that he’s getting a big whiff of horse from.

Geralt leaves Roach at the stables, with his usual stern frown at the stable boy and a chastisement to Roach to be good as she nips at his shirt.

Roach taken care of, he sets off to look for something to eat, wondering if it’s too soon for Jaskier to be up yet. His eyes flicker shut for a moment as he thinks of the Jaskier’s robe, and how if he goes right now and knocks on his door, he might answer wearing that and nothing else.

Although, if he does that, even Jaskier might be able to smell the lust rolling off of him.

Geralt sighs and continues his trudge, until he stops in his tracks and redirects his path. He looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. It’s been long enough. Surely Jaskier is wearing actual clothes by now?

Geralt walks back to Jaskier’s home, the path turning from dirt to cobblestone as he gets closer. There’s a patch of grass peeking between the stones with three orange wildflowers growing in it. Geralt stoops down and picks them without thinking too much about it.

Geralt carries the flowers loosely in one hand down at his side. When he reaches the steps leading up to Jaskier’s door, he pauses to steel himself, to try to prepare himself for if Jaskier’s whole chest is on display in his robe, but he’s interrupted by an obnoxious throat clearing.

Geralt whirls around to glare at the person, but he’s arrested by the sight of a man scowling right back at him. “Hope you’re not planning to bother some nice girl, Witcher. Like anyone would ever want you.”

Geralt glances down at the flowers in his hand, and then back to the man, mouth flapping uselessly. He has a point.

“She’s probably just too scared to tell you to fuck off,” the man sneers, and Geralt’s fingers itch to pull his dagger from his belt, but he restrains himself.

He surreptitiously looks around for a place to drop the flowers. The man is right; this is a terrible idea. What is he hoping to accomplish with this? Just to make Jaskier smile? He’s an idiot.

A door slams open, and then, “Well, I have no such qualms. Fuck off.”

Geralt turns around to see Jaskier—and thank fuck he’s wearing clothes this time, but he’s wearing that ridiculous lavender robe, with his leg jutting out right below where it’s knotted together. Geralt desperately averts his eyes, turning back around to frown at the man, but he’s disappeared.

He looks at Jaskier, then, drinking him in after a winter apart. Jaskier makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat. “For me?” he asks, holding out his hands for the flowers.

Geralt hands them over without comment, but he can’t hide the smallest of smiles as he follows Jaskier into the house, Jaskier chattering away about everything Geralt missed.

And, gods, did he miss a lot.

iv.

When Geralt bolts awake this time, Jaskier is gone again. Geralt would be concerned that just anyone could sneak up on him while he’s sleeping, but he knows his body has started to become in tune with the sound of Jaskier and it no longer deems it necessary to rip him from his sleep for just Jaskier padding around.

Still, Geralt wipes the sleep from his eyes and slowly gets up to start disassembling their camp. Jaskier will be back soon, and then they can be on their way. Geralt casts his eyes to the horizon, noting the first rays of morning peeking over it.

Geralt ambles over to where he had tethered Roach to a tree and scratches his fingertips over her neck. She headbutts his other hand, impatiently waiting for her breakfast. Geralt huffs a laugh.

Geralt has everything packed up and he’s been leaning against a tree impatiently for three minutes when he starts to get worried. Who knows what could be in these woods? There could be any number of things looking to make a meal out of Jaskier.

Geralt paces in a circle around their doused fire. On one hand, Jaskier could be doing something like taking a shit somewhere, but on the other hand, he might be hurt.

Geralt freezes when he hears a faint strangled cry, and his feet are moving even though his mind has barely registered the sound. Geralt crashes through the underbrush, uncaring about how much noise he makes or the thorns that tear against his skin, until he skids to a stop in front of Jaskier. In front of Jaskier, who locks eyes with him while his cock is in his hand and comes with an aborted gasp.

Heat burns up Geralt’s face. “Sorry, I—” he cuts himself off and flees back the way he came.

He berates himself as he walks back to their camp. They haven’t been in a town in over three weeks, why was that not what he expected? In all honesty, that’s why he hadn’t gone after Jaskier immediately, but after he heard him shout all of the thoughts of restraint flew out of his brain. The only thing he could focus on was Jaskier needing help.

Geralt tries not to dwell on the thought of how Jaskier’s cock had looked, flushed and jutting out proudly. Geralt pulls Roach’s brush out of the saddle bag and works her over carefully, making sure every hair is going the same way and helping her shed her thick winter coat.

By the time Jaskier stumbles back, Geralt had thought he had managed to put the incident out of his mind, but the sight of Jaskier proves him wrong. “Ready to go?” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier opens his mouth and shuts it with a click of his teeth. “What are we waiting for?”

Geralt swings himself up onto Roach, and doesn’t let himself look back to make sure Jaskier follows.

Geralt’s eyes crack open as the door to the inn room squeaks. He grunts in displeasure at being disturbed, and then remembers Jaskier is supposed to be with the barmaid and bolts upright. The door is just out of view from the bed, so Geralt eases himself out of bed and picks up the dagger. He creeps to where the wall juts out and then jumps out on the other side, revealing himself.

“Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?” Jaskier laughs nervously, and Geralt sheepishly drops the dagger onto the chair as his eyes widen.

“What is with you and always being naked?” Geralt growls in frustration, trying not to look at the creamy expanse of Jaskier’s skin, marred with freckles instead of scars like Geralt’s.

Jaskier’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

“Nevermind. Just—what is going on?”

“Ah. Right. That. I got…kicked out.”

“Did she have a husband?”

“Um, yes, yes, that’s exactly right. He did not appreciate the soiling of their marital bed.”

Geralt rolls his eyes fondly even as a pang of longing lodges itself right between his ribs. He doesn’t stop to examine it for too long.

Geralt turns his back and slips back over to the bed. The one bed, because he had thought he would be alone tonight. Geralt sighs.

There’s a quiet swish of fabric as Jaskier pulls on some clothes. “That was one of my favorite shirts, and now it’ll probably end up burnt or some other ridiculous thing.”

The doublet in question was a gaudy scarlet thing with obnoxious gold threading and beading sewn into it. The light always caught on it just wrong to shine into Geralt’s eyes and give him a headache. “What a pity.”

Jaskier shoves at his shoulder as he clambers into the bed without a second thought. Geralt swallows hard at the dip of the lumpy mattress, at the body what so close to his all of a sudden. Jaskier’s heartbeat thuds, and a peculiar smell drifts off of him that Geralt can’t quite place.

Geralt turns over so that he’s facing Jaskier. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier buries his face into the pillow. The one pillow, that he tugs away from Geralt. “Nothing,” he says, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“Hmm. Well.” Geralt pauses and tries to think of a way to respond that won’t have Jaskier calling him an emotionless boulder later. “If you want to talk about it, I can listen.”

Jaskier lifts his head up from the pillow to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know that I was speaking to anything other than the wall when I talk to you.”

Geralt yanks the pillow out from under Jaskier and hits him with it. “Shut up.”

+ i.

Jaskier sighs as he unfurls his bedroll. He’s been unleashing heavy sighs about once an hour for the past week, and it’s driving Geralt up the wall. He’s asked Jaskier if everything was all right four separate times now, and Jaskier has brushed him off each time.

“Jaskier, just tell me what’s the matter,” he begs after Jaskier sighs as he returns with water from the stream.

Jaskier plops the bucket down right next to the fire, and some splashes out and douses the small smolder Geralt had got started.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls before Jaskier can even react.

“Fine! You want to know what’s so wrong? It’s you!”

Geralt rears back, blinking rapidly. He wants to make a beeline for Roach and try to get the feeling of Jaskier’s eyes boring into his out of his mind as soon as possible, but he can’t just leave Jaskier high and dry out here all alone. Geralt shakes his head and turns away.

“Wait,” Jaskier’s hand comes around to clamp onto Geralt’s wrist. Geralt nearly shakes him off, but then Jaskier is saying again, “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes cautiously and arches an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

Jaskier rubs the back of his neck. “You know I got kicked out of that room the other night.”

Geralt grunts. “For cuckolding the husband?”

“Well, yes, but not exactly. I lied. There was no husband. Turns out some people aren’t all that impressed when you say the wrong name in the heat of things.”

“Jaskier, what does that have to do with—”

“It’s you, Geralt,” he whispers.

“Oh.”

Geralt is taken aback. He’s never had this happen with a human before. It’s… hard to imagine that a human could see him as anything other than repulsive, something to be tolerated just to part him from his coin.

“And now I see that I’ve made a complete and total mess of things. I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

As Jaskier’s grip on his wrist loosens, Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand instead. “You haven’t made a mess of anything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen before he reaches the hand Geralt isn’t holding up to cup Geralt’s face. Geralt turns his head to nuzzle into Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier leans forward to press his lips to Geralt. Their fingers become untangled as they move on, Jaskier’s coming up to twist in Geralt’s hair, and Geralt’s stroking across Jaskier’s cheek bone.

When they pull away, Jaskier lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Wow. It seems like I could have saved my hand some work while we were on the road.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier’s crudeness.

“Come on, you know that was funny,” Jaskier wheedles into his ear.

Geralt pushes him aside and crouches down to rebuild their fire. “You’re rarely funny.”

Jaskier claps a hand over his chest and splutters. “Okay, still incredibly rude. Nice to know some things never change, I suppose.”

Jaskier huffs and walks away, going over to feed Roach while Geralt attempts to find some kindling that isn’t damp.

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips.

When the fire is roaring once again, Geralt wanders over to where Jaskier is now sitting against a tree.

Geralt sits down beside him. “I do think you’re funny sometimes,” he admits.

“You’ve already wounded my pride, Geralt; it’s too late.”

“And so if I offered you a… hand, you’d turn me down?”

Jaskier jerks his head up and turns to Geralt. “That is not what I said in any way, shape, or form.”

“Hmm.”

In the end, it doesn’t happen that night, or the day after that. It’s when they’re finally at an inn that Jaskier pounces on him. Geralt has barely shut the door to their room when Jaskier is on him. “I’ve been so patient,” he whines.

Geralt raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Geralt, you’re impossible,” Jaskier huffs in exasperation. “Well, I’m asking now.”

Geralt kisses him, slow and sweet, and Jaskier groans his eagerness into his mouth.

Jaskier’s fingers fumble with the clasps of his armor, until Geralt laughs and takes it off himself. When he turns back around after carefully setting all the pieces on a chair, Jaskier is already naked, and finally, Geralt allows himself to look. He drinks it in, notices the tiny scar Jaskier has on his thigh, rakes his eyes over Jaskier’s chest. He moves closer so he can comb his fingers down the hair between Jaskier’s pecs, and he preens at the attention.

Jaskier reaches down to undo his trousers, and Geralt steps out of them. He takes off his shirt, and sheds his smallclothes, looking back up to see Jaskier staring at him. His soft expression turns into a self satisfied grin as he hums to himself.

“What?” Geralt asks, already sure he doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Nothing. Okay, fine, just—the carpet matches the drapes, is all.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’s a mutation. Do you think I would choose for it to be white? What were you expecting?”

“You’re no fun,” Jaskier pauses. “What color did your hair used to be?”

Geralt stops and thinks. “Brown, probably? I don’t remember.”

Jaskier whistles. “That’s terribly sad. Do you think your childhood would make a good ballad? I bet it would.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt grits out.

“Okay, okay. Insensitive, I apologize.”

Geralt pulls back, but Jaskier winds his arms around his shoulders and keeps him in place. “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing his nose against the delicate skin of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt shudders and lets Jaskier distract him. It’s not like his childhood is something he particularly likes to dwell on, especially when there’s something much better for him to focus on in the form of Jaskier’s swelling cock judging against his hip.

Jaskier presses up close against him, bracketing Geralt against the door and putting his palm flat over Geralt’s heart before he kisses him again.

Geralt lets the sensation wash over him, the pleasant feelings and the vibration that sends a thrumming through his bones. He walks Jaskier back to the bed and lays him out, crawling on top and straddling him.

Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Gods, Geralt. You’re beautiful.”

A hot blush rises to Geralt’s face and he turns away, but Jaskier takes his wrist.

“Don’t mock me,” Geralt mumbles.

“Darling,” Jaskier says, sitting up and taking both of Geralt’s hands in his. “I’m not.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to respond. He looks down at his body, littered with scars, some pink and small and some, long healed, white and wicked looking. “Hmm.”

Jaskier sighs and tugs Geralt in for another kiss, before he maneuvers Geralt so he’s the one laying down. Jaskier works his way down Geralt’s body, lingering on each scar until Geralt squirms uncomfortably beneath him.

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh as he makes it to the soft inside of Geralt’s thighs, and Geralt starts squirming for a different reason. A whine comes from the back of Geralt’s throat as Jaskier continues to ignore his cock, throbbing and painful at this point.

Jaskier finally has pity on him and takes him in hand, making Geralt sigh and his eyes flutter shut. Jaskier jacks him quickly, bringing Geralt to the edge faster than he would like to admit before he backs off and moves his hand. He goes back to tracing Geralt’s scars, his fingertips finding the one that cut through the muscle of his leg and healed jagged and rough.

He hovers over a different one, looking up at Geralt with a question in his eyes. Jaskier’s wheedled most of the stories of his scars out of him, but this one—Geralt huffs. “I tripped over a rock and fell right onto a very pointy root,” he admits.

Jaskier’s lips quirk up into a grin, and Geralt is about to chastise him for laughing when Jaskier directs his attention back to Geralt’s cock.

Geralt gasps as warm heat envelops him, and his hand comes down to tangle in Jaskier’s soft hair. Jaskier’s other hand comes up to stroke the part of Geralt’s shaft not in his mouth and scoots further back to trail his fingertips over Geralt’s balls and ghost over his perineum to his hole.

Geralt shudders at the feeling, and Jaskier pops off of him with a wet sound. “Can I—?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Geralt babbles.

Jaskier disappears for a moment to rummage through his pack, and Geralt tries to slow his pulse. His heart is practically trying to thud out of his chest compared to its normal steady pace, so he sucks in a deep breath through his nose.

Jaskier returns and settles himself between Geralt’s legs. Geralt lets Jaskier position him until his knees are bent and his feet are planted on the bed on either side of Jaskier. Geralt swallows past the lump forming in his throat as a wave of vulnerability crashes down on him.

Jaskier must be able to sense his skittishness, because he takes Geralt’s hand in his and rubs soothing circles into it with his thumb. With his other hand, he rests the pad of his pointer finger against Geralt’s hole until he slips it in, a second finger quickly joining it.

Geralt can feel himself tensing up, but he tries to relax, tries to let himself give in and just be boneless.

Jaskier stretches him out until Geralt whines in anticipation. Jaskier chuckles and pats his clean hand on Geralt’s thigh. “I seem to recall you saying I was the impatient one?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier laughs again. “Fine, fine. I truly don’t understand why people think you’re so frightening.”

Geralt could list a few reasons, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood. He just grunts at Jaskier until he finally shuffles closer to Geralt and presses inside of him.

Geralt’s head thumps back against the mattress as he squeezes his eyes shut, adjusting to the overwhelming fullness and the way the feeling radiates through his stomach.

Are you good?” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt nods, one of his hands finding Jaskier’s and tangling their fingers together, while the other grips the sheets as Jaskier begins to thrust.

He starts out slow, almost too slow for Geralt to bear, each slide dragging inside of him and creating delicious friction while the head of Jaskier’s cock nudges his prostate.

Geralt hums.

“Let me hear you,” Jaskier says into his ear.

Geralt looks off to the side, but Jaskier puts a finger on his chin and tilts his head back. “You’ve never been shy; don’t start now.”

Geralt stays sullenly even quieter than before, deliberately slowing his breathing.

Jaskier laughs at his obstinance. “No performance review for me?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Geralt says breathlessly.

“Who am I to say no to that?” Jaskier asks, and then there’s no more talking for a while, just gasps and moans as Jaskier slams into Geralt at a pace that leaves them both panting.

Finally, Jaskier shudders to his climax and wraps a hand around Geralt’s weeping cock to bring him over the edge with him.

Jaskier slips out of him and collapses onto the bed beside him, draping his leg over Geralt’s thigh, his fingers meandering their way again to the forest of scars that live on Geralt’s skin.

“You’re lovely. Do you believe me yet?”

Geralt gives an unimpressed hum.

“Well, lucky for you, I have the whole rest of my life to make you see reason.”

Geralt likes the sound of that.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ficlet #fanfiction #contemplative writing #5+1 fic

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utascumdump · 4 years ago

Text

Gagged Up ~ M. Fushiguro & Reader NSFW - 18+

It’s my first request and oddly enough my first write on Tumblr since I joined.

I want to say first that I’m sorry if it turns out shitty as fuck. Also, if you enjoyed it could you let others know about it so I can get more opinions on my writing style.

Cw: Characters are aged up 20+. Gagging, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Bratty! Reader, Degradation, Spanking, Oral (F. receiving), Slight bondage, Rough Sex, Breeding, Praise Kink, Aftercare..Let me know if I miss anything as you read.

Minors please *inhales* DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED *exhales* with that be said let’s continue.🥰

4 Page count with 2,394 words

It started out as a regular day for most people. However, a group of four decided to go out and meet up at the park. Two coming from the same destination holding hands and walking quietly.

They’ve all decided to take a break from fighting curses for a day. They are and talked about things they missed over the years from being apart. Megumi sitting away from the group off to the side. Everything was going relatively normal...(For the most part).

“O-Oi Itadori stop it ri-right now,” Nobora stated laughing in between her sentences. He was laughing away almost sounding like a hyena. They were telling each other of the funniest things they’ve seen happened.

However, the next laugh that came in was obnoxiously loud. The sound of a loud cackle reached Megumi’s ears from afar.

Megumi looked up from his spot under the tree shade and looked across the park at the trio dying of laughter. He was already annoyed from Gojo-sensei’s annoying antics from early that morning.

Watching the trio while lost in thought thinking of how annoying his sensei is in the morning. He recalls Gojo banging obnoxiously on his apartment door at 4:00 a.m. to tell him about something in which Fushiguro thought it was honestly the stupidest thing ever.

He was quickly brought out of his thoughts because of the loud cackling from Y/N. He furrowed his brows looking at her with a frown on his face. He began to get more annoyed with her antics. This has been going on for an hour and a half. He asked Y/N about 5 times already if she could tone down their volume. However, he can’t help but feel that she were doing it on purpose.

He clenched his fist tightly and clenches his jaw. He slowly got up and made his way to the trio with a calm expression on his face. But on the inside?? He was furious and done with Y/N’s bratty antics. He knew she was doing this to get under his skin. He caught her glancing at him each time she let out a loud cackle.

When he got to them finally he got straight to the point instead of beating around the bush. “Come on Y/N we’re leaving and it’s not a choice, it’s an order.” He didn’t wait for her to get up instead he turned his back walking away.

Y/N glanced at the others and told them she would see them some time later. However, she didn’t realized what was coming. Yeah, she’ll admit she was trying to get under his skin, but she never saw him acted like this. While in her thoughts she didn’t realized that Megumi stopped walking with his hands clenched in his pockets. Looking up she realized that he was looking back her over his shoulder with a look she couldn’t describe.

“Tch” he turned his head back around and kept walking back to their shared apartment. He was thinking of the things he wanted to do. But one thought really stuck with him for the duration of the walk back to the expensive looking apartment building. He wanted to gag Y/N so he could teach her how to be quiet like the good slut she was behind closed doors.

Making their way to the entrance of their apartment, Megumi unlocked the door and grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her inside. He slammed her against the door causing the door to shut from the pure force. He looked down at her and watched how she slightly squirmed from the intense stare and the cold door.

“Why must you act out and be a brat in front of others?” he spoke with a sultry honey toned voice. When she didn’t answer he grabbed her by the neck and squeezed to the point it sent waves down to Y/N’s heat. “I believe that I did asked a question unless I’m talking to myself and you know what I said about that.” he spoke with the same tone voice.

She breathed in shuddering when he pressed his body against her making her body pressed harder against the door. “I-I don’t know m’sorry daddy.” she replied feeling her legs shaking. Megumi, who disliked her answer, reached his other hand down and softly rubbed on her clit from under her skirt. “You know I hate lying so why do it when you can just tell the truth and avoid a harsh punishment, hmm.” he told her and moved his hand away and reached out to lock the door.

He picked her up and carried her to their bedroom over his shoulder. Once he reached the bedroom he closed the door and threw her down on the bed. He reached into the side drawer and brought out an item she couldn’t see. He made sure to hide it from her. He looked down at her from where he was standing.

He looked her up and down with a scowl on his face thinking of the things she did. He clicked his tongue and took off his shirt. “Take my pants off and don’t make me wait,” he told her and tilted his head to show authority. She looked him up and down and bites her lip. “No,” she simply stated and looked at the ceiling.

He rose a brow and stared at her and stepped closer to the bed. “What was that, say that again I don’t think I heard you correctly,” he leaned down a bit and stared at her intensely. Y/N’s breaths had now became broken gasps now becoming slightly fearful of the dominant side of Megumi she only witnesses when acting out.

“I-I said no, you t-take them off yourself,” she suddenly felt him grip her jaw harshly and made her look at him. She could tell by the look on his face that the ending outcome was not going to be good for her. He grips her skirt and rips it off and throws it somewhere in the room to be forgotten about. He teasingly rubbed on the wet spot that was visible in her panties.

She grabs his wrist and grinds on his fingers. He pulls his hand back and backs up to go to the closet. She started whining from the lack of touch and was beginning to get horny and needier. He grabbed a red silk cloth and a rope and brought them over to the bed. When she saw said items she began to plead with fear. “N-no daddy please I’ll be good I promise,” she backed away but not getting far. He gripped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

He grabbed the ball gag out of his pocket and strapped it gagging her in the process. “You made too much noise all day so it’s time to be quiet. Isn’t that right my filthy slut,” he taunted knowing she can no longer speak clearly. She responded yes but it was muffled by the gag, drool immediately dripping down the corners of her mouth. He chuckled at the pathetic sight in front of him and grabbed her by the arm.

He turned her around and made her top half bend over the bed. He took in the sight before him feeling himself tighten in his sweats. “Now bratty little girls like you deserved to be punished right,” he questioned and rubbed her right cheek. He heard her try to muffle out replies but she couldn’t so instead she frantically shook her head in agreement. He harshly smacked her right ass cheek and she let out muffled cries. He did the same to the other each smack on a different cheek. He finally let up when both cheeks were bright red with hands prints on both.

He grabbed the rope off of the floor and tied her hands behind her back. All while Y/N is in the background a sobbing mess from the spanking she just received. He sat her up and laid her on her back with his face hovering over her heat. He flatten his tongue out and licked her folds through her laced panties. She bucked her hips up to get more friction. He pulled back and took her panties off, a string of her arousal can be seen as he pulls them down her legs fully taking them off. He spits on her folds and sucks on her clit. He brings a hand up and rubs a finger against her nearing the entrance. He quickly sunk a finger in making her let out a muffled cry.

“Aww what my little cock warmer thought that I would let her cum. Now why would I do that when you acted out today. Be a good slut a turn over for daddy,” he cooed slightly and took off his sweats and boxers in one go. He fisted his length two times before grabbing the blindfold. Y/N turns on her stomach slowly, her thighs shaking from the denial of her orgasm, and arched her back deeply. He groaned at the sight and tied the blindfold around her eyes, making her see nothing but the darkness that greeted her.

Megumi pushed his cock against her folds coating it in her arousal and his spit. He tapped against her twice before quickly thrusting in and bottoming out making her let out a muffled scream. He thrusted his hips back and forth slowly and rubbed his hand down her back. He leaned over her frame slightly going slightly deeper than before and snapped into her hips. Going at a ruthless pace he grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her back so her back was against his chest.

“You wanna cum slut, huh, wanna cum on daddy’s cock don’t you,” he questioned as he wrapped his hand around her neck as she whimpered out a yes. He unclipped the ball gag and threw it on the bed. He yanked her head back and looked at her cloth covered face. “Open your mouth,” he said in a demanding way. She obediently opened her mouth and he spit in her mouth telling her to swallow. He watched as she swallowed and let out a low moan directly in her ear. “Fu-fuck baby you take daddy’s cock so well,” he let her go making her body hit the bed.

He had a vice grip on her hips bringing her back to meet his harsh thrusts. “D-daddy yes, f-fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum. He slowed his thrusts down and pulled out denying her yet of another orgasm and laid on the bed on his back. “Ride me and I’ll let you cum on daddy’s dick,” he replied catching his breath and watched as she climbed atop him. Grabbing at his cock she positioned it at her entrance and slid down him taking all of his length. She started bouncing up and down on him making her ass clap against his thighs. He gripped her hips again and threw his head back from the feeling of her cunt gripping his cock.

“Y-yeah fu-fuck, just like that baby daddy’s gonna fill that little cunt with his cum, you want that don’t you my little cock sleeve,” he groaned and thrust his hips to meet her bounces. She threw her head back and scratched at his chest feeling the familiar feeling of the two denied orgasms creeping back up. “Y-yes daddy, fuck I-i want your cum in me please please please daddy,” she begged ready to feel his cum in her and to finally release her orgasm after being denied twice. He held her hips down and piston his hips into hers making her let out a loud moan and finally letting her release for the night. His hips later stilled and he let out his hot spurts of cum into her, making her bite her lip and moaned at the feeling.

She breathlessly leaned down and meet him into a kiss full of love and passion for each other. He slowly lifted her up off of him and untied the blindfold. He got up and went to the bathroom and ran some hot bath water for them to wash in. He came back and carried her into the bathroom and sat her against the counter. He put in her favorite body wash in the tub, the smell of vanilla began to fill up the bathroom. He went back in the bedroom and collected all the things he used on her and sat them in the corner of the room to be cleaned the next day. He walked back in the bathroom and stopped the tub water, grabbing her and sitting her down in the hot water.

He brought over towels for them to use and got in the tub immediately working to scrub her clean and wash her hair in the process. He kissed her temple gently whispering in her ear “You did so good baby I’m proud of you,” and continued to wash her off later rinsing her off. He did the same process with himself and got up out of the bath, turning to help Y/N out and wrapping her towel around her and giving her a kiss. She walked in the bedroom and put on a pair of his shirt and waited for him. He walked out and grabbed a pair of black sweats and out them on and went to change their sheets.

He grabbed her and pulled her down on the bed softly and kissed her gently.

“I love you Y/N,” he said soft and sweet.

“I love you too Megumi,” she replied smiling gently and dosing off.

So this is the end of my first I hope you guys enjoy it and please give me some feedback. It’ll be really appreciated. (I didn’t read over it to check for mistakes, so please don’t mind them if you see any.)

@noritoshiikamo @fushigurocockslut @megumifushi

#first one done #megumi x y/n #megumi smut #megumi x reader smut

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author-morgan · 4 years ago

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Title: Picnics and Flowers Pairing: m!Eivor x fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: With the help of your little sister and her band of rogues, Eivor and you finally have to face the feelings you’ve kept from one another. Plot idea by @angstygunslinger. just took me six months to write it.

A FRUSTRATED SIGH escapes your lips as your little sister dashes off with the piece of parchment you were using for a letter —now half-written. Rising from one of the tables in the longhouse, you start after her. “Helga!” You shout, catching her disappearing toward the granary. “Come back here!” You round the corner of the longhouse in haste, colliding with a wall of warm muscle, the both of you falling at the sudden impact. A warm and familiar laugh fills your ears from beneath you. “Eivor!” You gasp, eyes wide in shock —he was not due back to Ravensthorpe for some time. He smiles at the flush of color creeping up to your cheeks. “Sorry, I was–”

“Chasing after Helga,” he finishes, laughing again, “as always.” Much had changed since leaving Norway, but Helga’s antics for mischief had not —you swear she must be one of Loki’s spawns with how often you have to chase after her and keep her from getting into serious trouble. You roll off Eivor, and he’s quick to rise, offering his hand —calloused from battle— to help you up.

Eivor smiles as he brushes the dirt from your shoulders and the smudge on your cheek. “It is good to see you,” he notes, the amusement gone from his voice. Of all the people in Ravensthorpe, he always finds himself missing you the most. Your gaze flicks away from Eivor, unable to meet his clear blue eyes and the soft smile hiding behind his golden beard without making a fool of yourself. “But weren’t you chasing after your sister?” Eyes widening, you dart off after Helga again. Eivor shakes his head, laughing to himself as he conducts his rounds.

EIVOR CALLS FOR a feast to celebrate the Raven Clan’s new allies in the north and his return to the Ravensthorpe. For now, he has no intention of leaving —at least not until the time comes to secure another alliance with the lords of England or Sigurd summons him away. It is a good feeling, knowing you will see Eivor more often —like the days before you fled Norway. You watch as he makes rounds, speaking to Gunnar and Wallace, among others who call this growing settlement home. He may not wear the title of Jarl, but Eivor is a good leader with the love and respect of his people.

Helga stumbles to where you sit, hiccupping with every other step and trying her best to hide the cup of mead behind her back. Part of you wants to laugh; you’d gotten into similar trouble as a young girl —Eivor and Sigurd your accomplices— but Helga is all you have in this world, and despite calling you sister, you’re the only mother she’s really known, too. “You are too young to be sipping on Tekla’s mead,” you tell her, giving her a cup of watered ale instead. She opens her mouth to protest, but you shake your head. “I won’t hear anymore on it, Helga.”

Pouting, she clambers onto the bench next to you, reaching for the last remaining piece of a berry tart at the table. If she can’t have any more mead and fun, then she’ll eat enough sweets to make you stay up all night to hear her complaints. Helga follows your gaze as she bites into the sweet raspberry tart Tarben made. You’re watching Eivor as he speaks to Mayda and Bertham —young lovers in a predicament with disapproving parents. Helga can’t say she’s surprised to find you staring at him. You seem to do that a lot. With the glances you and Eivor have exchanged all evening from across the longhouse, and after snatching a half-written poem from your desk a few days ago, she decides it’s time for her greatest plan yet. “Do you like Eivor?” She asks —words slurring together.

“Of course,” you answer, unsure why she would even ask a question like that. Helga knows how close you and Eivor are and how he oft comes in the late hours of the night seeking counsel, especially if he and Sigurd were at odds over something. “He’s one of my dearest friends.” Nigh every story worth telling from your childhood features Eivor.

Your little sister rolls her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “No” —she shakes her head, whole body squirming on the bench— “not like that. Like how,” she pauses, trying to find the right way to describe it, “Gudmund and Gudrun like each other?”

Skimming the hall, you find the two shipwrights —having sent Eira to bed, Gudrun sits on Gudmund’s knee, sharing laughs and exchanging quick kisses. You ignore the way your stomach and heart seize at the thought of having something like that with Eivor and decide not to respond to Helga’s drunken question, but she thinks silence is just as good as a yes or no. You narrow your eyes, seeing her struggling to keep hers open after drinking all that mead and stuffing her belly with meat, bread, and sweets. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” The question perks Helga up. Across the table, Hytham hides his laughter behind a cup of ale.

“We are celebrating,” Eivor notes, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he sits next to you with a tankard of mead in hand —he winks at Helga.

IN THE WEEK following the feast, Helga tells the other children in Ravensthorpe to meet her behind the stables. Sylvi, Knud, and Eira all appear after their morning chores are done, looking to Helga for what their next adventure entails. Last time, they put a cowpie in Osbert’s slipper and spent the rest of the day hiding and running from the collector as he chased them about the settlement with his hammer and chisel, threatening to carve off their noses while they slept. The empty threats made for an amusing afternoon.

But this time, Helga’s plan is not nearly as nefarious. No, she likes to think she’ll be doing you a favor since you seem oblivious to the obvious. “He’s always staring at her,” Sylvi says, peeking over the stable fence to see Eivor watching you pick raspberries to help Valka with her elixirs and salves. “You know, they both smile more around each other too,” Eira whispers. All of Ravensthorpe seemed brighter when you and Eivor reunite.

“I have a plan,” Helga announces to her cohort of merry troublemakers, motioning the three of them closer.

HELGA FINDS EIVOR fishing off the docks, a woven basket next to his feet almost filled with eels and trout —a successful morning, which means he’ll be done by the time you finish with the stew and her plan can come to fruition. “Eivor!” Helga shouts, skipping onto the wharf and stopping next to him, peering down into the murky water of the river Nene. “Will you come to our picnic?”

He regards Helga and the sweet smile on her round face —she’s up to something. “I think I can make time,” Eivor tells her, what few duties he had could wait until the evening hours. Besides, whatever your sister is plotting will undoubtedly be far more entertaining than writing correspondences to the Raven Clan’s allies.

“Can we pick flowers first?” Helga asks —she made sure to find a patch of wildflowers nearby where your favorite wildflowers in England grew. With you tending to a pot of stew in your shared cabin, she knew this plan would work out just dandy. Eivor agrees, pulling in the last of his catch for the day —a good size bullhead. Taking the basket of fish and eels to Merton, Eivor follows Helga as she leads him to the eastern part of the settlement, where there’s a dense patch of wildflowers growing atop a small knoll, knowing she’s up to something but saying nothing of it. He’s always found Helga’s antics to be amusing, but not quite as amusing as your exasperation after catching her getting into mischief.

“Those are–” Helga starts, looking at the handful of purple vetch and cornflowers “–your sister’s favorite,” Eivor finishes with a smile. He kneels, offering one of the flowers to Helga, tucking the stalk of vetch behind her ear. “Can you keep a secret?” Eivor asks, already knowing she couldn’t —the quickest way for Ravensthorpe, and even Fornburg, to learn of something was to tell Helga and tell her it was a secret too. Leaning closer, he whispers at her ear, smiling as her eyes and smile widen. Eivor rises, looking down at your sister with a glint of mischief in his eyes too. “Where should I meet you and your friends, Helga?” He asks.“

“Under the tree near the waterfall by Valka’s,” she answers, scurrying back to find her friends and tell them the good news.

SIGHING, YOU SIT down a small pot of stew under the tree where Helga said to come —only your sister and her friends are nowhere in sight. You pinch the bridge of your nose, not believing you’d fallen victim to another one of her ploys. You’d been up since the crack of dawn to make a pot of pork and leek stew to pair with a loaf of Tarben’s brown bread and apple preserves. Hands on your hips, you glance around, searching for Helga and her friends up in the tree, or hiding in the bushes, but it’s just you, birdsong, and the soothing calm of the waterfall.

The low croak of a raven perching on a branch above startles you —Sýnin. The raven looks down at you, croaking again, but this time it sounds as though he’s laughing at your folly. You scowl at Sýnin, jumping when you feel someone tap on your shoulder. Turning, you find Eivor standing behind you, holding a bouquet of wildflowers with an oddly bashful look about him as he rubs the scar on his neck. “Eivor?” You ask, heart racing and stomach-churning with butterflies —you hadn’t expected to see him so early in the day, especially in your current state. Eivor doesn’t care if your hair isn’t plaited or the apron you wear has a few stains. To him, you’re just as beautiful now as you are dolled up for feasts.

Remembering the flowers, he pushes them forward. Smiling, you take the bouquet. Vetches and cornflowers are among your favorite, but Eivor already knows that. You inhale the peppery sweet scent of both flowers —smile widening and mood improving after being caught up in another of Helga’s games. “Be a pity to let this go to waste,” Eivor remarks, gesturing to the pot of stew.

In agreement with that, you and Eivor sit beneath the great tree. You ladle out two bowls of stew while Eivor slices into the loaf of brown bread. “I think we’ve both been deceived,” you mutter, still glancing around the pool and bushes —expecting to see Helga hiding somewhere.

Eivor laughs, knowing it to be the truth. Helga had orchestrated the perfect moment —the perfect opportunity— for him to confront and confess the feelings he’d kept locked away for years now. Eivor decided quite some time ago he’d prefer to love you in secret to protect the precious friendship you shared, then speak of his heart’s desires and risk everything. He sets aside his bowl, shifting. “I don’t mind if it means time with you,” he smiles, reaching for one of your hands. It’s instinct to curl your fingers around his —thumb running over his scarred knuckles. Eivor whispers your name, leaning toward you.

He kisses you —without warning or permission— lips brushing against yours, only just. A chance for you to pull back, but you don’t. Smiling, you press your lips against his, chasing away any doubt he could have harbored of if his sentiments are returned. You lift a hand to his scarred cheek, loosely combing through his golden beard. There’s a pause, where you both draw back, just barely, letting out shaky breaths. Eivor slips his hand from yours, cradling the back of your head as he takes another kiss, this one firmer —confident— taking the breath from your lungs yet calming the racing of your heart. “Eivor,” you breathe upon parting, still cupping his cheek. His smile is wide, and his eyes clearer than you have ever seen before. He leans back in, kissing the corner of your lips and then your cheek, knowing these kisses are just the first of many more.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eivor sees Helga and her accomplices peeking out from behind Valka’s hut. “You can all come out now,” he calls, laughing. Your sister and her friends come forward, unable to hide their victorious grins. You wish to scold Helga for the deception, but you cannot find it within yourself to be upset with her, especially not when Eivor takes your hand, kissing your knuckles before he begins ladling out stew into the remaining bowls for the children with a smile. No, this time, you may even have to thank her for her antics, for she had just brought you together with the man you love.

[taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

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Temporary Home: Chapter 4

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Things just seem to keep getting tense around here... Will Reader ever catch a break? Will Yondu ever solve the mystery?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: This chapter is a LONG BOI. I considered splitting it, but then one chapter would have been 2k+ words and the other would have been 5k+, and for some reason I thought people wouldn't like the inconsistency lol (Feel free to weigh in. I know a few of you have said you liked longer chapters, and I haven't gotten any nay-sayers, but still thought I might as well ask lol)

And thank you to the anons and @condy-wants-a-cookie for your bad roommate suggestions! I wasn't able to add them all in, but they were all appreciated nonetheless!

Word Count: 7,321

This morning you did sleep in, but that didn't make your day much better.

You were slightly hungover, to start, and you spent most of the day in a funk trying to avoid everyone.

This wasn't completely possible, seeing as you now lived with eight other people, but the others seemed to mostly get the hint that you wanted to be left alone.

The first real interaction you had was around noon as you poured yourself some cereal and Yondu and Peter came in the backdoor to tell you they just heard gunshots from the forest.

You barely glanced at them. "Hunters." you said. "Probably hunting pigeons, but more likely they're poaching deer or fox. Happens every year."

They seemed almost surprised by your blasé attitude at hearing there were gunshots, but did seem to relax a bit that you seemed so confident. You had said you grew up here, after all.

Peter was still a little nervous however. "Do they ever come this way?"

You look up to him, knowing what he was getting at. He wanted to make sure they wouldn't happen upon your house while anyone obviously not human was outside and put them all at risk. "No. I'm pretty sure it's just a man and his boys who live a couple miles away. I've never heard the shots come closer than a mile outside the property. You're fine."

Seemingly convinced they finally left you, but you did notice no one seemed to go out until well after the last of the shots were heard, and you assumed Peter must have warned the others to stay inside just in case.

After you ate you went upstairs to grab your music, fancying a walk. However, once you got there you caught Groot sticking his tendrils in the lock of the attic door.

"What you doing there?" you say, firm enough to get his attention, but gentle enough to hopefully not to scare him.

He turned to you, pulling back his vines, looking sorry. "I am Groot."

You shook your head. "Sorry buddy, I have no idea what you're saying, let's find someone who can translate." You beckoned him to come, holding out your hand.

Groot looked sheepish, like he wasn't sure he wanted to come, but eventually he did, toddling over to you and allowing himself to be picked up.

You carried him downstairs and into the sitting room, finding everyone but Mantis, Kraglin, and Rocket sitting at the table. You walked over and asked if anyone there could translate, sitting Groot on the table.

"Sure," Peter offered, "What's up?"

"Well, I found him growing his vines into the lock of the attic door and I just want to know what he was doing." Actually, you thought you knew what he was doing. It looked like he was trying to pick the lock, what you really wanted to know was why.

Gamora looked at the tree child with both confusion and intrigue. "Groot, why did you do that?"

"I am Groot."

"No buddy, she's not going to do that. She just wants to know what you were doing to her door." Peter answered.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I forgot we have to repeat the question for him. He doesn't know what you're saying. He was worried that you were going to be mad at him like you were to Rocket last night."

You were taken aback by this. "He can't unde-? But the first night you all got here-? I asked him a question and Drax translated his answer for me?"

Drax shrugged. "It was easier to make something up than explain he won't be able to understand you because neither of you have translators. What he had really told you was that he had no idea what you said."

Yondu and Peter looked at Drax like he was stupid. It wouldn't have taken much more effort to explain. He literally just did it.

You also look at Drax. "So this whole time he hasn't been able to understand a word I've said to him?" A realization hit you. "But wait- I'm pretty sure we-" you pointed a finger back and forth between you and them, "are speaking the same language??" You were wondering if they were trying to prank you.

Gamora looked at you apologetically. She would have corrected Drax when he made up an answer for Groot that first night, but she was too exhausted to deal with it, and afterwards it just never came up again. You had spent more and more time avoiding everyone anyway. "We're actually not speaking the same language. We all have translator chips, it's how we can all understand each other. It's standard where we're from. They work both ways. It's how you can understand us and how we can understand you. However, because neither you or Groot has one, he can't understand you." She didn't go into the fact that their translators didn't actually translate Groot, or how their understanding of him only came from time spent with him and Rocket's translations. She doubted they'd be there much longer for it to make a difference anyway.

"I see," you said. You frown. "I guess that explains why he never seemed to listen."

Peter lightly chuckled at that, as did Yondu.

"Anyway," Peter said, trying to bring the conversation back to what you came for. "What were you doing to her door?"

"I am Groot."

"He said he was trying to unlock it."

"Alright, kinda figured that, but why?"

Peter repeated the question to Groot and came back with the answer, "He said he was looking for a hiding spot?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"I am Groot."

"Oh that's right, you were playing hide and seek."

"Hmm. Well that's all fine, but the attic is off limits. It's locked for a reason." you say.

"She says you can't go in there, buddy. There are monsters in there."

You give him a strange look, but he gives his head a quick shake as if to tell you not to question it. You figured he probably thought the kid would be more likely to listen if he thought there were monsters and let it go.

Groots eyes went wide and he turned to you. "I am Groot?"

Yondu answered, fighting back a grin. "Yeah, really. Now run along before we feed you to them."

Peter smacked him in the arm as little Groot hopped off the table, and Yondu laughed and held up his hands in a "What?" gesture.

Almost on cue you then heard Kraglin call out, "Ready or not, here I come!" before walking into the sitting room and encountering Groot as he ran towards the door. He looked at Groot and laughed, "I don't think you know how this game works, buddy," before turning and leaving the room himself.

You also started to leave when Drax asked, "Why is the attic off-limits?"

Gamora shot him a look for being nosy but you answered anyway. "It's.. unsafe," you lie. "Old house, you know. Don't want anyone falling through the floor."

You leave them then, saying you're going out for a walk.

Your walk wasn't too long, just along the road a ways before turning back. When you got back to the house you decided to practice your archery some more. You may or may not have pretended that a certain someone's face was the target.

When you finally did come back inside you arrived to a commotion in the hall.

You didn't know what the fight was about. You didn't ask either. All you saw was Kraglin and Rocket standing in the hall arguing about some nonsense. Drax was also there, but he was sitting down on the bench tying his boots and seemed uninterested in the argument.

Then you saw Rocket go to bite Kraglin, miss, and then settle for lunging on him and Kraglin struggling to get him off. Drax didn't really do anything other than scold Rocket, and you suspected this must be so normal for him to witness that it just didn't register anymore.

Your nostrils flared and your eyes narrowed at the scene.

Rocket attacking and Kraglin flailing.

Peter came out of the sitting room, presumably to tell them to knock it off, then he saw the murderous look in your eyes and his sentence caught in his throat as he watched you storm over.

You grabbed Rocket by the scruff of the neck and roughly pulled him off, both to his and Kraglin's surprise. Rocket actually made a noise akin to a squeak.

The others watched as you wordlessly marched the fecker to the front door, earning many angry protests from the Raccoon on the way for you to let him go as he kicked and squirmed.

Hearing the sudden change in the commotion, this prompted Gamora and Yondu to join Peter in the doorway. Yondu, out of curiosity, and Gamora out of concern.

You jerked the door open, and told Rocket to take a walk before tossing him out like a rag doll, mercifully onto the grass. He landed and stared back in a mix of shock and anger, too stunned to think of running back towards you. "You can come back in when you stop wanting to being such a damn asshole." you told him, promptly shutting the door and spinning the deadbolt.

You didn't look at the others as you turned on your heels and made your way up the stairs to your room.

They stared at each other in the hallway, wondering if they had really just witnessed what they saw, and if they should do anything about it.

On one hand, you just literally threw their friend outside.

On the other, maybe it would cool him down to go for a walk?

In the end they decided not to intervene, see how it played out. Way they saw it there were two possible outcomes. One outcome, Rocket takes his time out and actually comes back calmer and ready to be civil. The other outcome, he spends his time out getting more pissed and then rips your face off when you finally let him back in.

The real outcome, however, was less conclusive.

You decided rather than waste the pasta one of the others bothered to save from the previous night, you'd re-make the sauce and heat the spaghetti and serve it for dinner that night.

You called the others to the kitchen and told them to serve themselves before leaving the kitchen. Fortunately there were no accusations of poison this time, but that could have been because Yondu saw which door of the kitchen you exited from and figured you were going to call Rocket back inside.

He was right.

You open the front door and call out into the open, "Hey, Rocket! If you've decided you want to play nice then come inside and eat!" You resisted the urge to call him 'shit-head' instead of his name. More flies with honey and all that.

You waited a bit and then saw Rocket turning the corner of the house to approach the front door. He didn't say anything, just grouchily shuffled inside and you followed in behind him. You didn't say anything either, trying not to antagonize too much.

When you saw everyone else was served you made a plate and took your dinner in your room. No one questioned. At the urging of Gamora they were still trying to give you your space.

They only hoped things would be less tense tomorrow.

***

The next time you were seen wasn't until a little before midnight, when Yondu happened to glance out the window as he was tucking into bed and saw your shadowy figure walking towards the forest in the moonlight.

He frowned. Once was odd. Twice only made him that much more curious. What was nearly the tipping point of his curiosity was the fact that he realized he would never hear you leaving the old house, which to him implied you were sneaking out. Sneaking out of your own house. The hell?

What the hell was out there that you kept disappearing to at night? Where you disappeared to when Rocket ruined dinner?

Next time he was going to stay up and catch you before you left.

***

Starting out things were indeed NOT less tense the next day.

Your day started out with Kraglin accidentally walking in on you when you had just gotten out of the shower. Fortunately for both of you you had literally just wrapped the towel around yourself before he opened the door, but that didn't make anything less awkward, or either of your startled screams less shrill.

He tried to apologize later, but you'd only responded with "Let's just never speak of it again."

Then you went to grab some breakfast, you thought toast would be nice. Only when you got into the kitchen the toaster was nowhere to be found. Maybe you put it in a cupboard? You opened the press where you might have put it, only to find your cooking pans instead.

That wasn't the particular cupboard where you kept your pans, however, and you began to have a sinking feeling as to what might have happened.

You opened another cupboard and finally found the toaster alongside the blender- again, not where they were supposed to be. You then went to find a knife, and wouldn't you know it, all your silverware was gone and replaced with towels.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do you like it?"

You turned to see Mantis and Drax beaming like they did a good deed. "What?"

"We re-arranged the kitchen." Drax said. "Rocket said it was a Terran custom and you'd be very happy."

You rub a hand down your face. Fecker pulled another prank. "And you believed Rocket why, exactly?"

Drax and Mantis shared a look, as if they just realized it wasn't a smart idea to believe Rocket. They only grimaced apologetically back at you with an "Um..."

After a moment Mantis asked if you were mad.

You look at them for a bit before saying, "No. I'm not mad. I'm not happy about it, but I'm not mad. But, you two are going to help me put everything back."

They nodded quietly and got to work. It took an hour to get it straight again.

After you finally got to eat you decided to tend your garden again. It didn't need much weeding, so you decided to work slow to avoid going back inside for a bit. Mantis had also come outside with you and went over to play on the swing. She had seemingly become quite fond of it in her short time here.

After perhaps ten minutes you heard a snap and a startled cry and turned to find Mantis now on the ground. The old rope had finally snapped.

Mantis looked up at you and sheepishly said, "Sorry, I broke your swing."

You look at her in exhaustion. "It's fine. Not your fault, it was old. You ok?"

Mantis nodded and headed back inside as she rubbed her smarted behind.

You turn back to your garden. Today might be another archery day.

Instead of archery you thought of another idea. Rocket had complained about sleeping in the crib at least five times since he got here, probably more when you weren't around to hear it. Maybe you could build him a little bed as a peace-offering. Maybe he'd be less insufferable if you fixed the problem he was always complaining about.

You already knew you had enough wood in the shed to do it, and you already knew the crib fit a 120 X 60 cm mattress, so you'd just build the bed to the same dimensions as the crib so the mattress would still fit- you weren't going to go to that much trouble for the shithead. And as a bonus, this was also another way to keep busy.

You sketched out a quick plan on an old notepad you kept in the work shed and got to work cutting the pieces.

It was a simple design, but one that still required the bed legs and headboard to be joined and clamped together, same as the footboard. This meant you wouldn't be finished by tonight, especially not if you decided to stain it, which was fine by you. You weren't exactly in a rush.

You did what you were able to of the bed frame before heading back inside, maybe a little more than an hour later to grab something quick for lunch. Rocket was already in the kitchen eating something out of a little packet that looked unfamiliar to you. More alien food, you thought.

He looked up at you as you walked in with a raised eyebrow. "What you been up to?"

You looked down to where his gaze met and saw you still had a bit of sawdust on your jeans. You brushed it away and said, "Nothing."

He eyed you before his expression changed to a grin. He thought he'd have a little fun with you, slight revenge for the previous day when you threw him outside. Nothing much, just something to take "Miss Cranky-Ass" down a peg. He looked at you innocently. "Hey, you want to try one of these? They're good."

You eye him suspiciously. Every instinct you had told you not to trust him.

Rocket could tell you weren't biting. "Look, I know things have been tense between is, but consider it a peace offering." He held out the bag and kept grinning.

Not a chance.

Peter walked into the kitchen at that moment, just the person you needed to see. You got his attention, "Hey, Peter, what's this little fecker trying to do to me?"

Peter looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"He's offering me whatever those purple things are, and I think you could forgive me for not trusting it right away."

Rocket made a show of looking offended, "I'd never-"

Then Peter got a look at the bag and shot Rocket an annoyed look. "Yeah, do not eat that." he warned. He looked at Rocket. "You know Terrans can't eat xanti-berries." He looked back at you, "Seriously, don't eat them. You'll be shitting yourself the rest of tonight and tomorrow."

Your eyes widened and you looked at Rocket bitterly. Your instincts had been right. Can't trust the little shit. And to think you were making him a bed so he didn't need to sleep in the crib.

Rocket was now snickering, saying to Peter, "Come on- I mean we know that's what happens to you-" More snickering. "But maybe it's just a you thing-" Snickering now turns to laughing. "Maybe- Maybe she'd be fine. AHAHA!"

The little beast was now fully laughing at his own joke.

"Yeah, no thanks," you say, turning to grab a granola bar instead.

Peter shooed still laughing Rocket out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry about him, he's-"

"An asshole?" you finish for him.

Peter rubbed the back of his head, "Yeah..." he said with an apologetic look. He could tell you were past tired of his friend's bullshit, which was bad because they hadn't even been there a full week yet.

You shook your head and went to eat in your room, maybe you'd scroll some tumblr.

***

Not much later after you had gotten bored refreshing the page, you thought you'd look for a book to read in the sitting room, and walked in on Rocket and Peter arguing over what to watch. This eventually lead to the remote being flung across the room and just narrowly missing the TV.

You rub your temples and sigh. "You know, if you break that, I'm not replacing it."

"Oh yeah, you think we're gonna replace it?" Rocket snarked.

You looked at them. "That's not what I said, is it? I said I'm not replacing it. Meaning if you break it, there just won't be one. I'm not going to reward bad behavior by replacing it if you break it."

You heard Rocket mutter, "Whatever," and not long after you started hearing the noises of them bickering and smacking at each other again.

"Enough!" you say in a loud, firm voice that honestly startled Peter a bit and caught the attention of Kraglin from the table where he was doing a puzzle he found on a shelf. Your desire to find a book forgotten you left the sitting room, saying, "God, you act like children!"

You passed Gamora on your way out and said, "How do you deal with them?!" You continued on without waiting for an answer and Gamora shot a disapproving look at the pair on the couch, clearly unhappy that they were still finding ways to piss you off.

You went back into the kitchen, retrieved a glass from the cupboard, the whiskey bottle from the other night from the fridge, and sat at the table.

Yondu walked in about ten minutes later. "Starting a little early, I see." He wasn't actually sure if it'd be early to start drinking by Terran customs or not, but he knew from when he still had his crew and the Eclector, his crew typically weren't allowed to start in until all their day's duties were done, which, not always, but usually wasn't until after dinner. Outward appearance would have suggested otherwise, but he kept a tighter ship than one might think. Couldn't have someone piss drunk on the job and fucking everything up, now could he? That's not to say the crew always listened... but they were well aware of the consequences of getting caught drunk on the job.

You only answered back with a, "There are glasses in the cupboard if you want some."

Yondu chuckled and went for a glass, not one to refuse a drink.

As soon as he sat down you stood up. "I'll be back." you announce.

Yondu poured himself a glass and you shortly returned with another bottle of whiskey from the cellar. "Bottle was almost gone," you explain, setting the new bottle on the table and re-taking your seat.

Yondu looked at you, amused, but also mildly wondering where you had retrieved a second bottle from. He had never been bothered to explore the cellar. If he had he would have known you kept most of your unopened alcohol down there, where it could stay cool without needing a refrigerator.

Yondu took a sip, and almost recoiled, having not expected this Terran stuff to be quite so strong. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, mind you, but he had honestly just assumed Terran whiskey would be weak. From experience with Peter, the boy always got piss drunk after only barely a couple shots of Xandarian liquor, which wasn't very strong, so he just assumed Terrans had a naturally lower tolerance. Now he just supposed Quill was a lightweight.

"Anything on your mind?" Yondu asked. If you were sitting here drinking alone surely there must be.

You glance up. "Nope," you say, as you down the rest of your glass. You pour another.

"Uh huh... right. That's why you look like a grump-ass sitting here drinking all by yourself then."

You give him a look, gesturing to him with your glass. "You're sitting right there aren't you? Looks like I ain't alone."

Yondu chuckled and shook his head. Cheeky shit. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

Yondu grinned and pointed at you knowingly. "Gotcha."

"What?" you say, confused by his tone.

"Ya said ya don't wanna talk about it. Means there's somethin' on yer mind."

You look at him through narrow eyes and take another sip.

"What is it? Tired of Rocket's shit? Don't blame ya. Rat can be a real asshole."

You sigh.

"So it is the rat, then?"

"Quit," you say, taking another drink and looking at him sternly.

Yondu held up his hands and backed off. "Alright. I won't push it."

"Push what?" came Peter's voice from the doorway as he and Kraglin walked into the kitchen. Peter grabbed a snack from the pantry and tossed one to Kraglin.

"Cool, didn't realize we were starting a party" Kraglin joked, referring to the two whiskey bottles on the table and you and Yondu sitting there with your glasses.

Figuring you might as well offer them some you motioned to the cupboard again. "Glasses up there. Might as well join us."

You didn't have to ask them twice. Peter got down a couple glasses and Kraglin poured them some drink.

Peter nodded to the two bottles and joked asking if you were trying to see who could outdrink the other.

You shrugged. "Nah. If we were to do that, he'd need to catch up."

Yondu laughed. "You don't wanna go there, missy. I'll drink ya under the table before you knew what hit you." He chuckled and elbowed Kraglin in the arm, who snickered, knowing full well Yondu could drink like a tank.

You rolled your eyes. "Like I said, you'd need to catch up to me first. I'm about four ahead of you.

Yondu's head snapped back to you glancing from your drink to you. "Four?" You must be joking. You weren't even tipsy yet that he could tell.

You were unable to hold back a laugh. "Nah, I'm only messing with you." You downed your glass. "I'm two ahead after that one." You poured yourself another glass. You grinned slightly. "Again, do I need to wait for you to catch up?"

Yondu grinned at you, his eyes almost inquisitive. "Ya really sure ya wanna do that?" He was confident you didn't stand a chance.

Peter laughed. "What, you scared she'll outdrink you?"

Yondu rolled his eyes and downed his glass. "No. Jus' concerned she'll hurt herself tryin'," he laughed.

Now you rolled your eyes. "Fine. Don't. I'll accept your admission of defeat." you say with a shrug as you take another sip. This was almost definitely the buzz talking. You weren't a lightweight, but you still weren't exactly the heaviest drinker.

Peter and Kraglin hid giggles behind their glasses as Yondu gave you a hard look and poured himself another glass and downed it.

"There, I'm caught up." he said, pouring himself another glass to match you. "I'll give you one more chance to back out, sweetheart."

You down your glass. "I ain't your sweetheart, grandpa."

Yondu narrowed his eyes and downed his as well. "Then it's on, pipsqueak."

"Ooh-hoho. You're gonna regret that." you say, unable to hold back a grin as you poured another round for the two of you.

Peter and Kraglin were now openly laughing at the show as they sipped their drinks.

Yondu tipped his glass to you and took a sip. "We'll see." He wasn't really concerned with the drinking game. He was fairly certain he'd win. He did, however, think the whiskey might loosen your tongue, get you to talk to him. Maybe he'd eventually get around to asking why you lived in such a big place by yourself or what was in the forest that you kept walking into.

You followed his lead, sipping your current glass rather than downing it right away. Maybe it was the buzz starting to talk, but you suddenly were curious about something. "I don't think you guys ever told me why you needed to go into hiding in the first place."

"Fury didn't tell you?" Peter asked.

"Nope. He was too busy moving you guys in and changing up my house and getting into my shit to mention it." you say, taking another sip.

Yondu also sipped. Tongue loosening: Check.

"Well it's kinda a long story," Peter began, "but short version, we were hired to do a job for these people, and we did it, but then Rocket insulted them, and stole their shit, and now they've vowed vengeance."

"And they ain't the forgivin' type." Kraglin added.

"No. Definitely not," said Yondu mournfully, taking another sip. Bad enough his crew mutinied and he blasted his ship to hell, now he had to go into hiding. Yondu Udonta doesn't hide... unless forced to by the Nova Corps because he joined his boy's little team of galaxy savers, apparently... He supposed it was better than jail. He should really thank Peter for pulling those strings sometime.

"Anyway, so when the Nova Corps heard about it they insisted we go into hiding until they could try and smooth it over."

"Hmm." You say, finishing your glass. "So they're trying to beg for your lives, is that it?"

Peter shrugged awkwardly. "More or less."

"They must really like you." you laughed, looking down as Yondu poured everyone another round.

"They should," Yondu said. "He saved the galaxy twice."

Peter looked at him and he tried to hide how his heart swelled. Receiving praise from the blue man for things other than thievery was still new to him, but he didn't exactly hate it.

Yondu ignored his gaze. He wasn't about to get caught up in sentiment. He changed the subject. "Why don't ya tell us a little about yerself?"

You pretended to think a bit before taking a drink and saying, "Hmm... Nope."

Yondu held back a sigh. Tongue loosening: Un-Check. He tipped back his glass and nodded to you, as if to challenge.

You tipped your glass back in turn and as you poured another Yondu taunted, "I think that was five now, sure ya don't wanna slow down?"

You give him a patronizing look. "Is that your way of saying you give up?" You started to giggle behind your hand when Yondu's expression read 'Oh please.' and he finished his glass to keep the pour even between you.

Kraglin grinned wide and nudged Peter, "Eh, Pete, tell her about that time you got stabbed for flirting with that A'askvarii chick."

Peter's eyes widened and he looked at Kraglin, "Not cool, dude!"

Yondu chuckled and you just looked at Peter inquisitively, having no idea what an 'A'askvarii' was. Before you could ask Yondu spoke up.

"If I remember correctly he didn't get stabbed for that one. Kree girl tried to rip out his thorax. He got stabbed for trying to pull a runner on a Rajack girl." Yondu said, grinning before taking another drink.

Peter glared at him. "New topic." He looked at you. "What got you into archery?"

You sighed through your nose. You supposed it was an innocent enough question. "Dad taught me. How'd you'd come about living in space?"

Peter made a face and downed his drink. "Uh, long story, another time..." How would he explain that the reason he was in space was because his Celestial father sent the man sitting next to you to abduct him... and make it not sound awful? Better think of something lighter. "Uh... Got any family around or is it just you?"

You eyes narrowed. Your former giddiness visibly left you.

'Oh no.' Peter thought. That apparently wasn't lighter... You must not get along with your family. He tried to fix it. "Ok, touchy subject- I mean... Oh look, your glass is empty!" He quickly poured you and him another round.

You actually almost laughed at that, and a slight grin cracked your face.

Yondu saw how your expression changed and incorrectly assumed that it meant you weren't actually that irritated by Peter's question. He then took that incorrect assumption to pose his own question. "So, you didn't quite answer the other night, and I'm still curious. How come it's just you in this big old house?"

This prompted Kraglin to add his own question. "Yeah, and I've been wondering too, how's come you don't keep any photos?"

Your glare returned. You sat your glass down and stood up saying in a slightly slurred speech, "I have to pee." and excused yourself from the table, stumbling a bit as the alcohol hit you. You righted yourself, earning a chuckle from Peter and Kraglin, who knew too well that it's always easy to believe you aren't as drunk as you are until you stand up and the room spins.

Yondu also laughed, but internally cursed himself. He wasn't gonna get any answers like this. He hoped that maybe there was still a chance to save it when you got back. He saw a hint of pain in your eyes just before you left, and it made him want to know why. He felt he was so close to putting the pieces together.

***

You head to the bathroom irritated at being asked the personal questions. Leave it up to your new house mates to ruin your buzz.

You only got more irritated upon entering the bathroom, however.

Someone had left their wet towels on the floor. Rolling your eyes in annoyance you kicked them aside to make your way to the toilet. Mercifully you didn't find any unpleasant surprises waiting inside it like you had been. Peter must have gotten the "Flush the damn toilet!" message through to Drax. However, once you had done your business you found that someone couldn't have been bothered to replace the toilet roll properly, just having sat it on the roll holder.

You sigh irritably and replace it properly yourself. Yes, it could have been worse. They could have not replaced it at all and forced you to do a mini walk of shame to the sink cupboard to retrieve it, but you were too cranky to look at the bright side.

Then you went to wash your hands, only to see someone had smeared toothpaste all over the sink, a big pet peeve of yours. Your nostrils flared and you muttered to yourself as you washed that you weren't going to clean it. Screw that.

You went to dry your hands, and find there was no towel to dry them. You gritted your teeth and ripped a towel from the small closet, hanging it on the hook when you were finished.

Before leaving the bathroom you tried to gather yourself, taking a deep breath and telling yourself to calm down. It would be ok. You were just a little drunk. It wasn't that big of a deal. You were going to go back out and try to have some fun drinking that blue bastard under the table. (This, of course, was the alcohol talking. False confidence. You really did never stand a chance of outdrinking the Ravager captain.)

You start to open the door, and that's when you reach your breaking point.

***

After you left, Kraglin nudged Peter again, whispering the words, "A'askvarii girl," to him and giggling like a child.

Peter smacked him in the arm, "Quit it! That was one time! And I was only trying to get information! Tell him Yondu!" He tried to look angry, but the whiskey was having its usual effect on him, making him a giggly little bitch.

Yondu only grinned and shook his head. "I dunno boy, you were a little too convincing if ya ask me... Nobody asked you to sleep with her."

Kraglin bust out laughing at Peter's face, which was an odd mix of horror, drunken mirth, and "Dammit, you got me." He playfully shoved Peter and Peter shoved back with a "You suck!" which prompted Kraglin to squeeze his side, which of course made Peter jolt with a laugh and smack him away.

Kraglin only did it again and Peter laughed out a "Quit it!" while smacking him again.

Yondu just rolled his eyes and chuckled, sipping his whiskey as he watched his boys mess around like they did when they were younger on the Eclector.

After a pinch to the knee Peter bolted off his chair, only to have Kraglin follow, laughing, "Come back 'ere, ya coward!" He got Peter in a headlock and started to give him a noogie.

Peter laughed and managed to worm away, taking off into the hallway.

Yondu watched in amusement as Kraglin followed Peter out of the kitchen, and listened as the sounds of their shenanigans took them from the front door down the hall. That's when he heard the sound of a door slamming and a loud cry of "OW! Mother---FUCKer!" that sounded suspiciously like you.

'Oh shit,' he thought, standing from the table to go inspect the damage.

***

It had all happened fairly quickly.

You had opened the bathroom door maybe a foot before it slammed back in your face. Literally in your face. You recoiled and swore loudly, the flash of pain made your eyes water and you saw red before you even realized you were bleeding.

Kraglin and Peter jerked away from the door in startled shock after hearing you cry out. They had only been horsing around when their antics caused Peter to fall back into the door just as you opened it. They jumped when the door slammed back open with an incredible BANG against the wall, and their eyes went wide when they saw you standing there, murderous rage in your eyes and blood running from your nose down your chin.

Maybe it was because he was the nearest person, or maybe it was because he instinctually held up his hands and said "Sorry! Sorry! It was an accident!" but Peter was the one you lunged at.

You grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall, nearly a week's worth of frustration and rage channeled through you as his body connected with the plaster.

Peter, not just going to stand there and let himself get beaten up, tried to grab your wrists and get you off him, but you evaded his attempts and punched him in the stomach.

This slightly knocked the wind from him, but he managed to grab your wrist and push off from the wall. He spun you around and tried to restrain you in a bear hug, saying, "Take it easy!" but you only dropped to your knees and lurched forward, flipping him over your back towards the front door.

Kraglin looked to Yondu, who watched from outside the kitchen door near the end of the hall. His gaze asked what to do, but Yondu only shrugged and didn't try to intervene. He knew Peter could handle himself and he was sure you needed to let off some steam, so he just enjoyed the show.

The commotion brought the others in though. Gamora and Mantis flew down the stairs, while Rocket, Drax, and Groot stepped out of the sitting room to witness the fight with wide eyes. They didn't know what had happened, but you looked ready for the kill, and to the few who could see it from their vantage, you looked almost terrifying with your bared teeth full of blood.

You now straddling Peter, attempting to throw a punch when he blocked it and flipped the two of you over. He breathlessly told you to settle down as you struggled, but you wouldn't hear it. If anything it seemed to make you more pissed off, and Gamora's cries for the two of you to stop fell on deaf ears.

You kneed Peter in the stomach and flipped the two of you back over. You weren't sure what next possessed you, but you threw your head down and sank your teeth into his shoulder.

Peter threw his head back and cried out in pain, mixing in a few curses as well.

Yondu cocked his head, seeming unsure on whether he wanted to be impressed or not to see you, Miss SHIELD Agent, fight dirty. Kraglin finally spoke up to say, "Hey, hey, now! No bitin'!" as if he were refereeing a wrestling match.

Right about then you felt large strong hands grip you about the waist, surprising you into releasing your bite on Peter as they pulled you off of him. The arms moved from your waist to secure your wrists and before you knew it you were being restrained in half a bear-hug by one very strong arm as you were turned away from Peter and pulled towards the front door.

Drax paused to open the door and, turning you to face him, flatly said. "You need to take a walk."

"Drax!" Gamora hissed, appalled that he was throwing their host out of her own house, despite the circumstances.

Rocket, of course, laughed and asked how you liked it, like an asshole. It was only then he saw the blood around your nose and mouth and his expression changed slightly to reflect his shock, now wondering if you had actually taken a chunk out of Peter when you bit him. Were you some kind of maniac?

You spat blood at him, only for it to land on the floor at his feet as he was standing too far away, and then slammed the door behind you on your way out.

Gamora came the rest of the way down the stairs to inspect Peter's shoulder, seeing the blood on his shirt.

"It's fine," he assured, "It's hers, not mine. See, she didn't break skin." He pulled back his shirt to prove it. "I think I accidentally broke her nose though. That's what started it."

Gamora looked at him in confusion. "You broke her nose?! What the hell, Peter!"

"It was an accident!" he said again.

Gamora took a step back. "Ok. Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."

"Well, we were all drinking-"

Gamora threw up her hands. "Oh, well that explains everything!" she interrupted bitterly. Dumb stuff almost always seemed to happen when those guys and alcohol mixed.

Rocket spoke up. "You were drinking and didn't invite us? Rude."

Gamora threw him an unamused look. "Not the point, Rocket."

Peter tried again. He explained he and Kraglin joined you and Yondu drinking, you got up to use the bathroom, he and Kraglin started horsing around, and one thing lead to another until he fell back against the door as you were coming out of the bathroom and it must have hit you and pissed you off.

Gamora looked at him. So it really had just been a big drunken accident. She also then realized Drax had not only just threw their host out of their own house, but threw you out while you were also drunk, broken and bleeding.

They were sooo getting kicked out.

"We should call her back in." said Gamora. "You shouldn't have thrown her out, Drax. This is her home. We're only guests."

Drax looked confused. "Why? It worked with Rocket. I thought I was helping?"

"Don't bother trying," said Yondu nonchalantly. "Bet she's already well into the forest by now."

They looked at him. "How would you know that?" Gamora asked.

He shrugged. "It's where she went the other night she got mad. Saw her heading there out the window when Rat there destroyed the kitchen and ruined diner." He left out the bit that he'd also seen you head there in the middle of the night too. He was saving that bit of mystery for himself to solve.

Rocket just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms at being called out for his past grievances. It got cleaned, didn't it?

"I'm sure she'll come back when she's ready," Yondu added. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to go look for you, if for no other reason than to see where you kept going to out there, but he had a feeling that if you didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find you. He might have some experience tracking, but he couldn't also forget what you did for a living. While he might not know much about what your job entailed, he got the feeling you weren't just some desk-jocky.

Besides, if you found your way back, drunk, the other night, he was sure you could do it again.

Begrudgingly Gamora agreed to wait.

And wait they did.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #Groot #Drax #rocket raccoon #mantis #gamora #star lord #drinking #fighting #mystery #room mates

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Text

Spooky Day- Din Djarin x Reader

(Lovely moodboard by the amazing @jedi-jesi !!!)

Request: For dfwl, what if one of the kids ask din and reader about their childhood. Like this is gonna be a little sad bust fluffy, also I just wanna know more about tiny din and tiny paz adventures in dumbas*erry or even dins happiest memories back when his parents were alive? Thankyou!! Its probably gonna be a lil sad but hopefully not TOO sad yknow. Thankyou so much!!I love your writing

A/n: Yess, tiny Din and tiny Paz are my favroite little bros! I love writing for them. Hope you enjoy!

This is the next part of my Days Filled with Love Series, you can find the first part here. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mommy?” Myles hushed voice wakes you from your slumber.

“Hmm?” Opening your eyes, you look over to the side of your bed.

“I had a bad dream. Can I snuggle?” He doesn’t even wait for your response before he lifts the blanket and crawls under it. Lifting his fathers hand from where it drapes across your waist, and tucking himself into your side.

You wrap your arm around him and slowly comb through his curls. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head and turns around to face your body, then places his own arm where your husbands had just been.

“Okay, just try to go to sleep then.”

A groan falls from the mandalorian as he stirs. His head lifts from where it was tucked into your chest. One of his eyes lazily opens and finds your son at your hip.

“What’s wrong bud?”

“He had a bad dream.” Using your other hand, you pull him back into his spot and silently beg for the two of them to just go back to sleep.

He murmurs out a “oh” but you can tell it hadn’t really processed in his tired brain.

“Mommy, can you hold me?” Myles voice is quiet and uneasy, whatever was in his dream obviously has shaken him.

“Of course.” Pushing your husband over onto his back, much to his dismay which he signifies with a loud groan, you roll and wrap both arms around Myles, pulling him close into your arms. He sighs happily and squirms a little, trying to find the perfect comfortable position.

You press a kiss to his shaggy curls and give him one last squeeze before settling down and trying to fall back into your slumber.

A loud sigh comes from the man behind you. When you give no response, he sighs again, this time making it louder. Waiting a few minutes, he does it a third time.

“Oh my goodness, you big baby.” Smiling, you giggle, “Did you know that your father could be so annoying?” Myles grins and shakes his head. “We better give him some love of his own before he sighs away all his breath.”

Myles crawls over your body and plops down in between you both, rolling over yet again, you grab him and settle in just as you were, expect this time facing the brooding mandalorian.

“Daddy come snuggle.” A soft smile works its way onto his face and he shuffles over. Pulling not only Myles, but you into his own chest and wrapping his arms around you both. He rests his head on top of your own and this time gives a content exhale.

“Everyone happy now?” Two murmurs of yes grace you and you can’t help but grin. “Good, now let's all go back to sleep.”

***

Pans and dishes clank together, signifying someone moving around in the kitchen. The faint scent of pancakes waft into the open door of your room.

Opening your eyes, you try and place where you are and what is happening. The sun shines in and dances off of the snow. Myles is still tucked into your side, a small spot of drool on your shirt, and his hair tousled and messy.

The spot where you husband usually lies is empty, but still slightly warm. He must have just got up. Slowly, you shift away from your son, making sure to not wake him. Little snores fall from his lips and it’s almost like someone had shrunk the mandalorian in his sleep. You pull the blanket back up over him and leave the room.

Walking down the stairs, you lean against the doorframe in the kitchen. There Din stands, flipping pancakes while grumbling to himself. Those godforsaken grey sweatpants hang low on his hips and the muscles in his back ripple everytime he flips one.

“Hello handsome.” Biting your lip, you try to hide your smile.

He turns around and immediately walks over to you, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Dad! Are you making pancakes?” Reeza stomps down the stairs and if no one was awake, they sure are now.

He gives you one last peck before breaking away. “Yeah, wanna help me?”

“Yeah!” He picks her up and holds her on his hip, letting her flip the pancakes when they are ready.

Myles walks down the stairs and behind him, Grogu follows. “Good morning you two.” Picking Grogu up, you press a kiss to his forehead before letting him walk off to the table. You lean down and take Myles into your arms, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “Do you feel better today?”

He nods, but doesn’t let go of you. “Thank you for letting me sleep with you.”

“Oh baby, you don’t need to thank me. What kind of mother would I be if I wasn’t there for my strong boy?” He stays clutching the back of your shirt for a little over a minute before releasing you and sitting down at his seat.

Walking up the stairs and into the nursery, you are met with the soft breaths of Tobbi and Isabet. It’s almost like she knows you’re here because one of her eyes opens and peers up at you before her arms reach up. Her legs kick out and a little grunt falls from her lips.

“Good morning little girl.” Picking her up and placing her in your arms, she smiles up at you. “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?”

“Mama!” Giggling, you tickle her stomach before going to change her diaper.

“There we go, feel better?”

“Mama!” Her little arms lift and her hand reaches out to you. Smiling, you press kiss after kiss to her face, basking in the loud laughs she gives you.

***

After feeding both the twins, you take them in your arms and walk back down to the kitchen. The three kids as well as your husband sit at the table, stuffing ungodly amounts of pancake into their mouths.

“Mommy! You’re back!” Reeza exclaims with her mouth full of the breakfast food.

“Hey! Don’t speak with food in your mouth.” Din glares at her. “And you, stop playing with your food.” He says while pointing at Grogu. The child only coos while dropping the piece of fruit he was levitating in the air. Smiling, you shake your head.

“Daddy can you tell us a story?” Reeza asks, this time without food in her mouth.

“Yeah one with Uncle Paz!” Myles adds on.

“Hmmm. Let me think.” He reaches out to you and practically begs with his eyes for you to hand him one of the twins. Smiling, you give him both and sit down to eat your own breakfast.

“Oh, I know. One time, Paz and I were about fourteen and we had stayed out late one night wrestling. The walk back to the covert was not far, but it was a little bit of a trek. However, it was now super late and they weren’t any lights.”

“I thought you said you guys had curfew?”

He looks at you and quietly says, “We did.” Looking down at his children he continues on with his story, “Anyway, we started walking back and I have no idea how this came about, but we started joking about how we were escaping zombies.”

Now you really start to laugh. “Zombies?” Reeza asks. Myles snickers as he looks down at his fruit bowl.

“Again, I have no idea where this came from. But as we were walking and the longer we were joking about these zombies who were chasing us, the more we started to believe it. So now we are becoming more anxious and we start picking up our pace. It comes to the point where we are running back to the covert. We’re looking back and forth expecting to see these zombies around every bush and tree.”

He breaks off to laugh himself, eyes crinkling in his joy. “We were almost to the covert, in fact we could see the lights from inside. But one of the leaders was waiting outside for us, because we were going to get in trouble. However, in our panicked minds we saw him as a zombie. So when he walked out from behind a tree to yell at us. We jumped and Paz screamed. We held onto each other and we both started to square up. When the leader tried to ask us what was wrong, he moved closer to us. Paz, in his fright, punched him right across the helmet.”

All of you break out into hard uncontrollable laughter at the thought. “Wait so what happened?”

“Let’s just say that we both can agree that we never want to clean a covert bathroom again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Valentines Day

I hope you guys liked it!!! As always, feedback is mega appreciated!

Love you all, Lordy :)

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#din djarin #paz viszla #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #days filled with love #pedro pascal x reader

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satendou · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ manhunt

⍣ stardew: tilted | next: manhunt: redux | 1/?

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi/reader/oikawa

⇢ au: stardew!au

⇢ summary: it starts off as hiding eggs with a twist, and suddenly you find yourself hunted

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: predator/prey play, established relationship, forest sex, spitroasting, no prep, creampies

⇢ word count: 3877

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: i’ve always wanted to do a stardew au, though not in this format. still, these have been pretty fun to write so far.

“Are we sure they’ll be alright overnight?” Oikawa asked skeptically, looking at the baskets full of colored eggs sitting in front of the general store. “What about ants?”

“That’s the whole reason we went with plastic eggs this year,” Kuroo answered, picking up a powder blue on from the pile. Popping it open, he plucked the mini Snickers bar out, only to receive a swat on the hand from Akaashi. “Ow, okay, geez,” he pouted, closing the egg back up.

“There’s plenty of leftover candy you can eat after we get these hidden,” Akaashi scolded, turning to the other adults who had volunteered to hide the eggs for the hunt in the morning.

It had been unanimously decided that, if you had to be the ones to do it, you were going to make it fun for the adults too. Thus, the egg hiding was turned into a game of manhunt, where the runners had to place all their eggs without getting caught by the hunters. If they did get caught, they then had to take some of the hunter’s eggs on top of their ownl. If they managed to avoid being caught, they got to hide until the game was called.

“How do we decide who’s going to be a hunter?” you asked, leaning on Iwa’s arm. There were ten adults in all and ten baskets full to the brim with plastic eggs.

“I’ll be one,” Kuroo offered, though you didn’t like the tone in which he said it. It was scheming and mischievous, and you already knew Kuroo to be a decent hunter.

“Rip, Bo,” Atsumu said, and the group burst out into chuckles while Bokuto wilted.

Iwa’s arm flexed around yours as he laughed before he said, “I’ll be the other one.”

“Rip Oikawa.” It was Osamu this time, and laughter filled the quiet darkness once again, punctuated by Oikawa’s whining.

Everyone picked up a basket while Iwa and Kuroo set a timer for five minutes on their watches, watching as the rest of you disappeared into the darkness. There was something foreboding about being alone, even if you were just in the center of the village. Knowing that Kuroo and Iwa were going to be skulking around-- no doubt trying to scare everyone they came across-- added an element of excitement to the whole thing.

There was no one else around you, as far as you could see. Without a flashlight, you had to rely on the moon to light your way. A tree appeared to your right, and you paused to tuck an egg in it’s roots, hidden enough that it wouldn’t be seen instantly but easy enough for the kids to find in the morning.

Constantly looking over your shoulder, you placed eggs here and there, running across Osamu at one point with Atsumu on his heels, snickering as he told you Bo had already been caught.

Several minutes later, when your basket was down to half the eggs you had started with, a hand wrapped around your wrist, another one quickly clapping over your mouth to stifle your screams.

“Found you,” a voice whispered, and you quickly relaxed as you realized it was Oikawa.

Smacking him on the chest, you hissed, “You asshole, you scared the shit outta me. What are you doing?” You could feel him laughing against you, stifling his noises in his hand, before he finally managed to say, “I finished hiding my eggs, so I figured I’d come help you. There are no rules saying I can’t.”

“Well, if you insist,” you said, shoving your basket into his hands. “It’s the least you could do for nearly giving me a heart attack.”

He didn’t seem overly upset, trailing behind you and dropping eggs much faster than you had. There was a noise from your right, around the corner of the saloon, and Oikawa grabbed your wrist again, yanking you around the side of Nekomata’s house. It sounded like arguing, and you finally recognized Atsumu’s voice complaining about being caught.

Kuroo’s laughter cut across him, wickedly amused, before saying something you couldn’t hear. So invested in what was going on over there, you didn’t hear someone coming up behind you until Oikawa took in sharp breath, which was quickly cut off.

Startled, you spun around and caught sight of Iwa with his hand over Oikawa’s mouth, who looked like he was about to faint. Iwa laughed, a low rumble in his chest, before releasing Oikawa.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, staring pointedly at the basket in Oikawa’s hands. “Looks like you lose, Tooru.”

Pouting, Oikawa held out his-- your-- basket, but Iwa didn’t drop any of his eggs into his basket, his smirk widening as he held up his empty basket.

“How did you--?” you asked, looking up at him suspiciously.

Winking, he dragged you and Oikawa further into the shadows, just in time for Kuroo to skulk by silently. Kuroo paused, looking around as if he’d heard something, only to be distracted by a muffled yell from down by the river.

When he had disappeared into the darkness again, Iwa snickered. “Kuroo’s been too busy looking for Bokuto and Akaashi to catch anyone else. But I think you still need to be punished for getting caught.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened, faintly glinting in the moonlight, locking with yours when Iwa’s hands ghosted up under his shirt. “We still have eggs to hide, Hajime--”

You had never known Oikawa to turn down any chance to do anything in public-- in face, you were fairly certain at this point that he got off on it. Which was why you weren’t surprised when he continued on, a smirk flashing across his face.

“--Besides, this was _____’s basket. Mine is empty.”

He held up his basket, one Iwa recognized as the one Oikawa had scurried off with almost an hour ago. Iwa quirked a brow, pausing where he had been trailing kisses up Oikawa’s neck, crooking his finger at you.

“Were you really just going to let Tooru take your punishment, princess?” Iwa asked, pulling you right up against his chest. You were now pinned between the two of them, chin tilted up by an iron grip to look up into Iwa’s shaded eyes. “I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”

Shaking your head, you let your hands curl into the front of his shirt, standing on your tiptoes reflexively when his head dipped down.

Behind you, Oikawa chuckled, hands coming to rest on your hips. “Well, I did offer to help her, I’ll admit.”

Iwa hummed thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he said, “In that case, maybe I should give you a chance to make up for it. If you can hide all those eggs without getting caught in…”

“Five minutes,” Oikawa offered, looking at the number of eggs still in the basket. There were maybe twenty left, and five minutes would be plenty of time to hide them-- if you could avoid Kuroo.

The corner of Iwa’s lips turned up, a clear smirk as he nodded. “If you can get rid of ‘em in five minutes, you won’t be punished. But if you can’t do it, well…”

He left it unsaid, but you understood loud and clear. You had no idea what he and Oikawa would do, but it would no doubt be embarrassing for you. Still, your thighs clenched at the thought and a mischievous part of you considered botching it just to find out what they had planned-- until you remembered who could find you.

Kuroo and Atsumu would never let you live it down, and no doubt Bokuto would accidentally spill to the whole village that the three of you had been up to something out in public, and that was a humiliation you would never survive.

Iwa and Oikawa watched you stumble off, urgency in your steps while you tried to navigate in the dark, before they turned to each other.

“I didn’t know you were so mean, Haji,” Oikawa drawled, winding his arms around his waist.

Iwa went willingly enough, still wearing a smirk as he avoided Oikawa’s attempted kiss. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with you.”

Oikawa snickered, nudging Iwa’s nose with his own until he could capture his lips in a less-than-chaste kiss. “No need to be rude. I know you like it.”

You had no notion of how much time had passed by the time you placed the last egg, narrowly avoiding a prowling Kuroo by the bridge leading to the library. You had been too afraid to set a timer, of drawing Kuroo right to you and having to face Iwa’s punishment, so you could only hope you had finished in time.

Upon returning to Nekomata’s house, your heart dropped to your toes when you realized Iwa and Oikawa were nowhere to be found.

“Where--?” you whispered, only to nearly jump out of your skin when a pair of arms circled your waist. A sharp gasp left you, a scream fizzling out in your throat before you whipped around to look up into Oikawa’s cheeky face.

“You barely made it, princess. What, didn’t you want to see what Iwa had planned?” he whispered, dragging you around the back of Nekomata’s house. You could hear voices near the front of the general store, talking about another round of manhunt since it was still so early.

“Should we take it out into the woods instead?” Kita was asking, looking around at all the dark houses around you. “I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“I’m fine with that,” Kuroo said with a shrug. The only one who declined was Sakusa, who cringed at the idea of traipsing through the woods in the dark. “Alright then, let’s go.”

The closer you got to the lake, the harder your heart thumped, wondering what Iwa and Oikawa were thinking. No doubt they would toy with you for a while, letting the tension build as you wandered alone in the dark before pouncing. The thought alone made you anxious, squirming against Iwa’s chest while everyone decided who would be the hunters again.

“I’ll be one again,” Iwa offered, cutting a glance in your direction. The smile he gave you was gone in a flash, but you got the message.

He was a predator, and you were his prey. No doubt Oikawa would join him, too.

“Funny you say that, because I was gonna say that too,” Kuroo said, and they shared a smirk before Kuroo glanced at Akaashi from the corner of his eye.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were sadists,” Atsumu drawled, leaning back against the trunk of a pine tree.

Kuroo and Oikawa snickered while Iwa shrugged, giving the blond a half-smile. “If that’s your only objection, I’d suggest you start running.”

A hand wrapped around your wrist before you could scurry off, lips pressing against your temple to cover as Iwa whispered, “I’ll see you soon, princess.”

Barely containing a squeak, you ripped your hand from his hold and disappeared into the trees, leaving Kuroo and Iwa alone.

Kuroo turned to him with a smirk then, amusement dripping from every word as he asked, “Should I just...leave her to you, then?”

Iwa hummed in agreement, unable to stop a small laugh from escaping. “That obvious, huh?” “I won’t tell you if you won’t, just leave Akaashi for me,” Kuroo said, patting him on the arm. The alarms on their watches went off simultaneously and they shared one last knowing glance before going their separate ways.

Meanwhile, you had made it all the way down to the abandoned house overlooking a cliff, skirting in front of the creepy looking building towards the bridge. The light from your phone bounced off the shattered glass in the windows, illuminating the decrepit interior and some leftover furniture before you moved on. Your steps were muffled as you moved slowly, heart pounding while you waited for something, anything to happen. You felt suspiciously like a rabbit being stalked by a wolf-- or wolves-- as you made your way through the trees. Branches cracked underfoot, causing you to wince, and you vaguely wondered where everyone else had run off to.

Bokuto had no doubt clung to Akaashi, wherever they went, and Atsumu was probably stalking Osamu and Kita, waiting for the perfect opportunity to scare them.

As if on cue, there was a loud shriek that ripped through the darkness, causing you to jump straight into salmonberry bush with a startled yelp before you began giggling. Your hands were shaking, the light wobbling as you fought to extricate yourself, only to freeze when the sound of more branches cracking came from somewhere near you.

Barely breathing, you listened as closely as you could for any voices, straining to hear anything.

After several long seconds, a soft voice reached your ears, causing the hairs to raise on the back of your neck and a thrill to shoot down your spine.

“Where are you, princess?” Oikawa sang in the dark, playful and amused. He was clearly still too far away, if he hadn’t picked up the light from your phone, and you quickly turned it off before he could see it.

You had no idea if Iwa was with him yet, but you had to get yourself out of the bush quickly and quietly, before you alerted them that you were there. Wincing at the rustling and crackling, you managed to stand up with only a few minor scratches on your arms and legs, stumbling in what you hoped was the direction of the pond.

Wherever you were headed, it was the direct opposite of the soft, cajoling voice behind you, but you made a mistake in tripping over the root a tree that was about to fall.

With a muffled yelp, you caught yourself on the trunk, but it was too late.

“I think we found her, Hajime,” Oikawa said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“I think you’re right, Tooru.”

They were close, too close and, in a panic, you turned the light back on and took off into the trees, dodging trunks and leaping over logs and rocks. The sound of footsteps came from behind you, heavy thumping that never seemed to get any closer even though you knew they could easily outrun you.

You could hear them calling out behind you, laughter mixing with their words and spurring you to run faster even as they asked you to stop, to give up, to come willingly. Even though you trusted them, knew it was all a game, your heart still raced, your fight or flight instinct in high gear as you ran by the pond.

At the last minute, as you tried to decide which direction to go, they almost slammed into you from behind. Someone’s arms wound around you, causing you to let out a startled yelp that would have been a shriek had your throat not closed up on itself.

“Gotcha,” Oikawa whispered in your ear, though you realized it was Iwa’s arms around you when he came to stand in front of you. “Now for our prize.”

You were herded through the entrance to the Secret Woods by Oikawa’s hand around your wrist and Iwa’s on your back, heart still thrumming from a mix of adrenaline and exercise. The moonlight was filtering through the leaves overhead, the grass dappled with silver light around the edge of the pond where they stopped you.

“That was fun, princess,” Iwa whispered, wasting no time in pulling your shirt up and over your head. Sweat was beaded on your forehead and between your breasts, which were quickly freed from the confines of your bra. “Gave us a good chase.”

You could feel how hard he was already against your ass, chest heaving from exertion against your back.

Oikawa’s nimble fingers undid the button on your jeans, forcing them and your panties down your legs without preamble, pulling them off over your shoes. Your head tipped back onto Iwa’s shoulder, a breathy gasp breaking the stillness of the clearing when his fingers plucked your hardened nipples at the same time his cock slipped between your thighs.

“Already this wet for us, huh? Did that turn you on, being chased by us?” Iwaizumi whispered into your ear, fingers tightening on your nipples just shy of painfully. “Such an easy little slut, even if you pretend you aren’t.”

His head grazed over your clit for just a moment before Oikawa’s hand fisted in your hair, guiding you to bend over halfway.

“We don’t really have time to play, sweetheart,” he said, prodding the head of his cock against your lips. “The others will probably come looking for us soon, so be a good girl and open up for daddy.”

Iwa wasn’t going to dispute his words, even knowing Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto were likely in a similar situation as you-- not when you whined so sweetly and wiggled your hips back against his cock like you were.

Your lips parted, allowing Oikawa to slip his cock into your warm mouth with a pleased moan, forcing himself as far as he could before you started gagging only to pull out and thrust back in, pushing further still down your throat.

“Give me your hands, princess,” Iwa demanded, wrapping them in an iron grip at your back, leaving you at their total mercy. Dragging the tip of his cock between your folds, he circled your clit a few times, smearing a mix of your slick and his cum around before nudging into your waiting pussy.

Your throat contracted around Oikawa as you tried to moan, tears springing to your eyes as Iwa sank to the hilt slowly, forcing your unprepped walls to stretch around him. Your toes curled in your sneakers, eyelids fluttering when his balls slapped against your throbbing clit. You couldn’t remember them ever being so rough or careless before, but it only made you wetter, tongue lapping at the underside of Oikawa’s cock in an effort to get more.

“You’re so needy, princess,” Oikawa cooed, voice strained and breathless as he pulled his hips back. Drool was dripping down his balls, no doubt smeared across your chin, but your eyes glowed in the moonlight, begging him not to stop.

Behind you, Iwa rolled his hips without pulling out, forcing his cock deeper, his head grinding against your cervix and the spot inside you that made your cunt spasm around him. “So good, taking my cock so easily. Our good little bunny, hm?”

“Our sweet girl’s really a little slut, isn’t she?” Oikawa teased, yanking on your hair to force it further back as Iwa’s hand came around your throat. “Bet she’d agree to anything, hm?”

You made a noise around him, tears spilling down your cheeks while Iwa groaned behind you, slamming his hips into yours at a near brutal pace. His hand tightened around your throat, squeezing just enough that your head spun. “Fuck, I can feel you in her throat.”

“Don’t stop, Hajime,” Oikawa moaned, head tipping back as his eyes shut. He was fucking your throat with abandon now, unable to stop the way he pounded into your throat when Iwa’s hand caused you to feel even tighter around him.

You were fluttering around Iwa, your head swimming from a lack of oxygen and blood flow, choking and sputtering around Oikawa’s cock. What little you could think of was reduced to the push and pull of your body on your partner’s cocks, of Iwa’s balls clapping against your clit and Oikawa’s against your chin. Teetering right on the edge of your orgasm, your back arched, silently begging Iwa to go deeper while you lapped at Oikawa’s cock mindlessly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Oikawa announced, hips stuttering before he forced himself all the way down your throat.

At the same time, Iwa squeezed even tighter, driving himself right against the swollen bundle of nerves inside you with a snarled demand for you to come right now.

You did, legs trembling and wailing around Oikawa’s cock still down your throat, milking another spurt of cum from him as Iwa fucked you through your orgasm. Your head fell forward when Oikawa let go of your hair, drool spilling to the grass in strings before Iwa pulled you to stand straight up. Your head fell back to his shoulder, legs barely holding you up as he thrust into you a few more times before sinking his teeth into your shoulder and cumming with a muffled groan.

Oikawa was the first to recover while Iwa continued to keep you on your feet, his head hidden in your neck while he caught his breath.

“You alright, princess?” Oikawa asked as he cleaned your face as best he could, wiping away the excess drool with his shirt. “We were a little rough…”

“‘m okay,” you rasped before clearing your throat. “That was...amazing.”

Iwa chuckled behind you, placing a smattering of kisses over the teeth marks in your skin. “That’s our girl. Can you walk?”

“That will have to be determined,” you teased, taking your shirt from Oikawa’s hands before he went looking for the rest of your clothes. “Don’t know if I wanna explain why you’re carrying me out of the woods.”

Your shorts and panties were placed in your hands, Iwa steadying you when you bent over to slip them on and tilted to the side.

“We’ll just tell them you sprained your ankle,” he suggested. He waited for you to stand up again before slipping his own shorts back on and his shirt over his head. As soon as he could see again, you were curling yourself into his chest, nuzzling at the base of his throat with a sigh of contentment.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” you said, and both of them burst out into laughter.

Several minutes later, with your hair a tangled mess and a limp to your walk, you stumbled out of the woods onto the path beside Kita and Osamu’s house.

They were there, along with Atsumu, and all three were looking at you with raised brows.

“You haven’t seen Kuroo or the others, have you?” Kita asked, raking his gaze over all three of you.

“Nah,” Iwa said, while Oikawa snickered behind his hand and you hid your face behind his arm. “But I don’t think we need to worry about them. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

Atsumu burst out into raucous laughter while Osamu rolled his eyes and Kita covered his face with his hand.

“I think we’re gonna head home. It was fun, but we need to shower. Sakusa was right, the forest is filthy,” Oikawa said, hiding his smirk behind his hand still.

Atsumu wiggled his eyebrows as you turned, calling at your receding backs, “I doubt that’s a problem for you three.”

He received a wink from Oikawa over his shoulder before the three of you disappeared up the path back to the farm.

“Too bad I couldn’t convince Sakusa to come. Seems the woods are lucky tonight.”

“‘Tsumu, you are so gross.”

⇥ masterlist

⍣ stardew: tilted | next: manhunt: redux

#iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #haikyuu x reader #.tiltedseries

164 notes · View notes

silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

Text

Impersonal, Ch. 7

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E

The game had ended and he wasn’t surprised.

He expected this. He prepared himself all day Saturday by running six miles, jacking off twice, and mopping his entire apartment. He didn’t even own a mop; he actually went out and bought one. By the time Sunday morning rolled around he was ready for the inevitable collapse of their precarious sexual arrangement and greeted Scully with aplomb.

And then she paid for breakfast.

That was unexpected. When the FBI wasn’t footing the bill, they usually split the tab, or threw a “you can get the next one” down on the table alongside crumpled bills.

He had been joking about it being a date, but then she paid. And it meant something. Her big blue eyes pinned him to the booth, had him trapped and squirming like an insect on a card as she laid a hand over the check. “I’ve got it,” she said, and his senses were suddenly ignited. He could feel thick sunshine pouring over them, lighting up Scully’s hair like a smudge of cinnamon. Her lips looked so sweet and soft, and the very idea that he might never feel them again stole his breath. He felt dry and empty, a desiccated housefly body lying on a windowsill.

He thanked her for breakfast, and his throat was lined with dust.

Their parting was weird. Hinting that he was still available to her was an insane risk, and she turned it into a joke about Frohike. Unless she actually thought he was the one joking about Frohike, which he has to admit wouldn’t be out of character for him.

He’s tired of joking, tired of hiding, tired of dancing around his intentions. Tired of wanting and not asking, tired of being in his own damn way.

Scully has given him a graceful exit, a neatly drawn map back to their pre-sex starting point. And not for the first time, Mulder wads up the map and tosses it aside. Scully made her move; it was time for him do the same.

What that move would be, he has no idea.

It takes him eleven days. No wonder Scully took matters into her own hands the first time around. Inspiration strikes him during his drive from Alexandria to D.C. the next Thursday morning, when he crosses the Potomac and gets a glimpse of faraway blossoms.

He waits until 4:47 that afternoon to say anything.

“Hey Scully, you doing anything tonight?” he asks, rifling through a stack of papers as though he’s attending to FBI business and not trying to work up courage like a schoolboy.

Her glossy red head is bent over a file, pen at her lip. “Besides folding an obscenely large pile of laundry, my schedule seems fairly empty,” she replies. She looks up at him suspiciously. “Why, Mulder?”

“No reason, really. There’s just something I wanted to show you, get your opinion on.”

“Is it related to a case?”

He opens a desk drawer, pretending to look for something. “Well it could be a totally natural phenomenon, but who can say for certain without proper investigation?”

Scully sighs. “Fine, I’ll bite. And speaking of bites, I’m starving. If we’re going to work off the clock, can we at least eat?”

“Wanna stop for Chinese? We can take it with us. We’re not going far, the food should still be hot when we get to our secondary location.”

They take Mulder’s car, picking up several cartons of food from a restaurant in Chinatown a few blocks up from the Hoover building before making their way towards the National Mall. Mulder parks in the lot near the Washington Monument.

“You weren’t kidding when you said we weren’t going far,” Scully says, gathering up the bag of takeout. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“That,” he replies, pointing ahead.

Hundreds of cherry trees line the Tidal Basin, their leaves almost entirely obscured by tufts of blossoms. Scully steps onto the path, open-mouthed.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs.

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Pretty fantastic, huh?”

“Mulder,” she says in awe, looking sideways at him, “What are we doing here?”

He shrugs. “I just wanted to see them.”

“At night?”

“Daylight’s for tourists, Scully.”

———

They’re sitting on the damp grass, endeavoring to split the last egg roll using only their dueling pairs of chopsticks.

“This is impossible, Scully. I’m going to use my hands.”

“Then I definitely don’t want the other half,” she says.

“Are you implying something about my hygiene?”

“I’ve seen some of the places your hands have been, Mulder.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Not what I meant,” she says softly. “But the point still stands.”

Mulder lays back on the lawn, his long coat fanning wide. Scully pulls an edge of it towards her, scoots closer so she can rest her pantyhose-clad calves on it instead of the grass.

“I’ve always preferred the blossoms at night,” he says. “There’s something ghostly about them, all pink and white against the dark sky. Not an ominous kind of ghostly, however; if good spirits exist, I think they’d look like these trees. You know most early European religions feature some sort of reverence for trees or forests, whether as spiritual gathering places or deities themselves-“

“Mulder.”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to eat that egg roll, or can I have it?”

He passes her the carton. “And-”

“Why did you bring me here, Mulder?”

He glances at her and is surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes. His gaze returns to the branches above.

“I just figured I owe you a nice trip to a forest, and this one won’t require any paperwork.”

Scully smiles. “That’s a very considerate choice, Mulder, especially since I’m always the one doing said paperwork.”

“You’re more succinct and readable than I am, apparently. And Skinner clearly likes you better.”

“Didn’t you punch him in the face once?”

“That’s beside the point. I think he has a bit of a crush on you, Scully.”

She rolls her eyes. “What?” Mulder asks.

“I just… it’s nothing, It’s been a long day. And it’s cold out here.”

Mulder sits up and withdraws his arms from the sleeves of his overcoat.

“No- Mulder, don’t, I’m fine.”

“Move your legs,” he instructs, pulling the edge of the coat out from under her. He stands and drapes it around her shoulders before plopping back down on the grass next to her.

“Thanks,” she says. “Still, it’s getting late.”

He glances at his watch. “It’s seven-thirty on a Thursday. You got somewhere to be?” His arm bumps her shoulder companionably. “Come on, just a little longer. Maybe we’ll see something unidentified in the sky.”

He grins at her and the corner of her mouth twitches in reply. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighs. “You drove us here.”

He feels a slight increase of pressure against his arm and realizes that Scully is ever so slightly leaning into him. A gentle warmth glows in his belly, and he glances sidelong at her.

I’m a lucky son of a bitch, he thinks.

“How so?” Scully asks.

Oh. He said it out loud. He clears his throat, tries to steer his thoughts back into safer waters.

“Well, for one thing, I’m not dead,” he says. “Not for lack of trying.”

Scully nods solemnly.

“I’ve seen incredible things, things people spend their whole lives looking for, hoping for, believing in. I’ve tasted proof, held the truth in my hands. And in spite of everything, I’m still here. We’re still here. That’s pretty goddamn lucky.”

“I don’t feel very lucky,” Scully says softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve fucked up every good thing I’ve ever had a chance at. My father certainly thought so, at least for a long time.”

They sit silently for a moment. “Without you, I’d be long dead,” Mulder admits.

“I know,” Scully replies. “I’m always awed by your resilience, actually. I can’t take all the credit for your continued survival.”

“Yeah, you can,” he says, getting to his feet and dusting stray blades of grass off his slacks. He holds out a hand and helps her to her feet. Her fingers are cool against his palm, and he wonders if she’d notice if he didn’t let go. Probably.

He wants to pull her in by the lapels of his coat, gather her to his chest, hold her for no reason other than he can. Kiss her brow, smell her hair, feel her small hands sliding under his suit jacket. He wants her just as she is, for exactly who she is.

But he’s a chickenshit, so instead he just walks beside her along the Tidal Basin, under the cherry blossoms, and doesn’t hold her hand.

They spend the five minute drive back to the Bureau in comfortable silence. Scully leans her head against the car window, and Mulder briefly wonders if she’ll fall asleep. He loves when she nods off while he’s driving; it makes him feel safe. She makes him feel safe.

He parks a few spots away from her car in the Bureau parking garage, turns off the engine. Scully gathers up her briefcase, leaving Mulder’s coat draped open on the passenger seat.

“Why are you getting out?” she asks, seeing Mulder unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I need a file from the office,” he lies. He exits the car and goes around to her side. “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s on my way.”

It’s twenty feet from her car to his. “Thank you, Mulder,” Scully says sardonically, fishing her keys out of her coat pocket. “If I weren’t armed, that would have been very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. He takes a step forward.

“What are you doing?” Scully asks, one hand on her car door, keys in the other.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” God, she’s so small, this could so easily go wrong-

He pitches forward, bending down, and presses his lips to the fullness of her cheek. His nose brushes the soft skin under her eye and he inhales sharply, drawing back.

They blink at each other. “Bye,” Mulder offers.

Scully nods. “Yes. Goodnight.” She glances to the elevators. “Was there actually a file you needed?”

He just looks at her, and she presses her lips together in understanding. “Right. Well, I’m leaving, so… see you tomorrow then.”

Right. Despite recent events, the earth was still spinning.

Later, when he hangs his overcoat, he notices the faintest scent of her shampoo on the collar.

#awwwwwwwww they're so awkward and dumb #impersonal #my fic #txf fic #xfiles #msr #slow burn #also pls listen to 'Agape' by Nicolas Britell while reading this chapter it's the Vibe

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