#but there are elements in this that absolutely will come up in that fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blythesarchives · 5 months ago

Text

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя теперь. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader smut #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes smut #emwrites🌿

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chuluoyi · 4 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds fluff #lads fluff #lads smut #l&ds smut #sylus fluff #sylus smut #lads sylus #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace x you #l&ds x you #lnds

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fanaticalthings · 11 months ago

Text

God, this is such a devastating concept which would be super cool to see explored, actually

But what about a Jason that never feels warm; not to the touch, not in himself, because he's dead. Or he was, but the lazarus pit can't fix everything.

When he was a kid and first got to the Manor he used to cuddle with Ace to keep warm, bury his face and his fingers in her fur after a long night on patrol, or a cold winter's walk. But now Ace won't come near him, can smell the death on him. When he was Robin, he used to hide in Batman's cape when it was cold, but now he and the Bat barely speak. Alfred used to light the fires in the Manor in winter and Jason used sit as near as he dared and feel the warmth on his face, because he'd known the deep ache in the bones of real cold, when he'd been on the streets and he'd swore he'd never take warmth for granted again. But now, even with his hand almost in the flames, he can't feel the heat of it. The cold is deep inside him, in his heart, in his blood, his soul. So cold he can't breathe, can't function and once he got off the streets, once he realised the manor and Bruce were home, God he swore he'd never let himself feel this cold again. But nothing works now he's back.

So he replaces it with anything he can to distract himself. The adrenaline of pushing Bruce as far as he can, taunting the Bat, taunting his father, anything to feel that heat of rage. The burn of cracked knuckles from a fight to the death, the hot thrill of killing. Anything to forget, just for a moment, how fucking cold he is. How desperately he misses the warmth.

And even the Bats don't notice. Because they hardly ever see him out of uniform, without gloves and gauntlets and armour. Only Alfred maybe, stitching a wound closed or Steph in one of those rare occasions Jason agrees to go for coffee, and their hands brush as she passes him the sugar. But never enough for them to notice something is wrong. Never enough to fix it.

#id love to see more fics that explore on the other effects of coming back to life #and not just necessarily effects of the lazarus pit but maybe just overall the supernatural element of being brought back from the dead #depending of which continuity u wanna follow in some timelines jason just straight up crawls outta his grave without the pit #jason should absolutely suffer some consequences the universe brings with him being alive when he wasnt supposed to be brought back at all #when it comes to dc writers giving us a heavily angered reckless and mischaracterized jason #id be way more accepting of them writing him really fucked up #if they further explored the concept of being revived against the universe's wishes #and how it absolutely messes with your body and mind #jason should 100% have a special element to his character that no one else has #anyways this is super cool op haha jason todd fans know no peace 🥲#jason todd #red hood #batfam #batfamily #dc

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inseobts · 2 months ago

Note

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

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purple-plum-petals · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣

⊱ Blood-stained Lips ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore and Specifically Scarletella Rain Ending), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror Elements), Mild Jealousy, Slightly Suggestive. Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Light Angst (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,140 words Request: “Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣” Author’s Note: Okay so, like… Mr. Scarletella is probably one of the more nerve-wracking characters for me to write for, but I absolutely adored this ask, so I gave writing him in drabble format a shot! (It’s also pretty funny how the fandom has unanimously agreed that Mr. Crawling and Mr. Scarletella would not get along and would be actively antagonistic toward each other lmao). I think his dynamic with the MC is fascinating… the whole parasocial relationship the two of them have going on throughout the game is such a unique choice (love the simp energy he gives off, too, since I wasn’t expecting that from his character haha). This ended up being kind of suggestive at the end?? Nothing too crazy or anything, just him being very happy about being able to touch you. Anyway, I hope this isn’t too OOC – enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

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Even though his memories had been forgotten, parts of himself and his identity erased after you successfully defeated him, Mr. Scarletella occasionally found himself thinking of moments he couldn’t even recall witnessing.

In his mind, he sees you with another resident of the realm, their long black hair cascading down their form while their laugh echoes through an empty corridor. He sees their fingers threading through your hair, moving their hands up and down along your scalp, and tousling your locks…

Mr. Scarletella hears your laughter fill the space, too. The sound is light and airy, and he finds his chest tightening at the hazy memory. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and certainly was not one he enjoyed experiencing. It almost felt like knives being shoved repeatedly into his torso, a stinging and aching sensation that spread throughout his entire body from a singular point.

Almost absentmindedly, his hand comes to rest on the left side of his chest, the side where a heart would be located if he possessed one like you did. Mr. Scarletella hears a gentle murmur interrupt his thoughts, a noise that cuts through the fog in his mind like a saw slicing through flesh and sinew.

“You okay?” Your voice echoes, and his pitch-black eyes dart down to meet with yours. You’re holding a red umbrella – his very heart and soul – in your hands. Your hold isn’t painful, nor is it gentle. It was perfect, just like you, he thought to himself.

Rain drips down the water-resistant material of the umbrella that was permanently stained a bright, bloody red, and it falls onto the clear rubber of your raincoat before sliding down your form. Both the umbrella and your coat effectively keep your body dry from the elements. Mr. Scarletella, on the other hand, was completely soaked, having no issue walking beside you while the rain clung to his clothing and chilled his skin.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat of your body spreading throughout his chest and warming his form from the inside out. Oh, how happy he would be if the small flame within him sparked into something more, forming a fiery inferno inside his body. Even if you were to burn him, set an uncontrollable blaze within him that only left an empty husk behind, he would be content.

Your brows are furrowed while you crane your neck back to look at him, the sound of rain around the two of you, effectively breaking up the long stretch of silence. He was acting a bit strange today, you thought to yourself. While the man dressed in red was never really normal in the conventional sense, he was much more quiet today than usual.

Mr. Scarletella’s gaze used to be immensely nervewracking, his hollow stare once being able to cause the hair on the back of your neck to stand on edge, but you had grown used to it after spending so much time together. The two of you were in your old realm, the one you left behind to stay in the other world. You were fairly close to the haunted apartments he used to call his home and the site where you would dump the bodies of anyone unfortunate to cross your path… The start of everything that led you to where you are now.

“You quiet… What you thinking about?” You ask him, shifting the hold of the umbrella in your hand to the other. You hadn’t brought your weapon today, wanting to give Mr. Scarletella a chance to experience a “typical” date, one that didn’t consist of violence and murder for a change. However, he had been in a daze since the two of you arrived, and that was somewhat out of character for him.

Shifting your stance to better face him, your feet sink slightly into the mud beneath you. You look down at your boot-clad feet and frown. While you had grown used to being in a constant state of uncleanliness since the other world didn’t have showers readily or easily available, it was still quite annoying to clean mud from the soles of your shoes. This was the type of mud that threatened to pull your shoe from your foot if you were to try tugging on it, but you pushed your frustration to the side to focus on the man in front of you.

Mr. Scarletella hums and reaches his hand out to your head, placing his palm against your hair, and you freeze. Your hair sticks to his deathly cold hand, almost as if static electricity was coursing through his fingers.

It was soft under his skin, your hair, yet he could feel that some knots had begun to form near the base of the strands. Then, he begins to rub his hand back and forth, effectively messing your hair up even more. Your mind blanks at his sudden movement, the action reminding you of Mr. Crawling.

“Why… you touch me?” You ask, staring up at him as the rain begins to fall even harder, your grip on the umbrella in your hand tightening around the handle. The rain was so heavy that you could barely see into the distance, the horizon completely covered in a thick, gray mist. A sudden gust of wind blew Mr. Scarletella’s red hair, and within his usually hollow eyes swirled something you had never seen within them before.

It reminded you of a storm rolling in across the ocean waves, a variety of emotions spiraling within his ashen irises. His hand never once leaves your body, instead sliding down the side of your head to cup your cheek in his palm. Whenever he touched you, it felt like TV static against your flesh, and you could see white-and-black dots begin to dance across your vision as a light hum filled your ears.

Mr. Scarletella’s flesh is cold, and it reminds you of a corpse the chill his touch leaves in its wake. His head tilts to one side and he whispers to you, his voice barely audible above the rain crashing around you, “I want you – want to touch you.”

Before you can even speak or formulate a response to his words, he quickly pulls his hand away from your skin. It felt like you had burnt him, yet he found himself not minding the stinging sensation that danced across his flesh. His hand dropped lifelessly to his side before he muttered an apologetic, “Sorry. Shouldn’t have touched you.”

After taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you shake your head and tell him, “...You okay,” before turning on your heel to walk away. You glance at him over your shoulder, his form becoming further soaked from the storm. It was kind of amusing, you thought, seeing such a previously powerful entity look like a stray, sopping-wet cat.

Eventually, you gesture for him to come with one hand, the order of, “Follow me.” coming out of your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

He teleports to you before you can even finish your sentence, staring down at you with those unnerving eyes of his as he waits to see where you want to go. A huff of air forces its way out of your nose, chuckling at his obedience before you lightly graze his hand with your nails. It’s strange touching him, his form more like an illusion than a body made of flesh and blood.

The two of you make your way across the waterlogged fields and flooded, muddy roads. Your footsteps splash in the puddles beneath you as you walk while Mr. Scarletella moves without making a single noise, merely a ghost in this world. Soon, however, the abandoned apartments come into view, and you lead him inside the old concrete structure.

You pause as soon as your feet make contact with the cracked floor of the building, making sure that you can’t hear the sound of another living being within the hollow corridors. You close the umbrella when nothing catches your attention, making sure to shake it a few times to try and remove the raindrops that have accumulated on its surface. You watch as the water falls to the ground, making small, dark grey circles on the concrete.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as Mr. Scarletella watches you in return while holding the umbrella, waiting patiently for you to say something as a shiver runs down his spine. His hands that were hanging at his sides were closed, and he was clenching and unclenching his fingers almost like he was fighting the urge to place his palms against your skin once more.

You can’t help but chuckle at his demeanor, placing the now-closed umbrella down so it was leaning against the wall. You do the same, leaning back on the wall before you hold your arms out to him, saying with a small smirk, “You can touch me.”

You jumped slightly at the speed at which he appeared in front of you. His body hunched over yours while he watched your expression intently, his black eyes partially hidden behind the thick curtain of red hair that cast shadows across his sickly complexion. Mr. Scarletella places his palm on your head, telling you smoothly, “Thank you.”

One of his hands begins to tentatively pat your skull while he enjoys the feeling of your hair against his palm. Then, his other hand soon joins, and you close your eyes while you allow him to pat you like a dog. It felt a bit demeaning in a way, but also strangely comforting, and it reminded you of one of the friendliest residents of the other world you had met.

Your eyes flutter shut almost out of habit, allowing the man in front of you to enjoy the rare moment with you. His hands started out resting against the top and sides of your head, the movement of palms against your hair causing it to become messy and sticking up because of the static he created.

Then, they tentatively travel to your face, cupping your cheeks before he brushes his thumbs underneath your eyes. You jolt a bit when his cold hand brushes against your neck, swallowing harshly when you feel him trace a finger down your SCM. Your breathing hitches while he explores your skin, and your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip in response.

Then, you feel his touch pause, and Mr. Scarletella whispers against your neck, the pad of his thumb swiping against your lips, “...blood.”

“Oh, uh…” You open your eyes and look at him, seeing the way he’s staring up at you while his face remains close to your jugular. Your hand goes up to your lips, and you wince when you feel the soreness. When you pull your fingers away from your mouth, you see the blood that clings to them. Geez, you didn’t think you had bit your lip that hard.

You tell Mr. Scarletella, patting his head much like how he had been doing with you, “I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He smiles widely and lights up at your words. Suddenly, he grabs your face and hastily presses his lips to yours. Your eyes grow at the sudden act, and a strangled noise leaves your throat. It wasn’t a bad noise, per se, you just hadn’t been expecting that from him. Typically, he waited until you permitted him to do that... He must have been too excited to hold back this time around.

You were speechless when he pulled away from you, noticing your blood that was now smeared across his lips. He licks it away, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips before he asks you, “...You happy?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, reaching up to place your hand on his head while your giggles echo throughout the empty hallways, patting him softly. Mr. Scarletella’s smile falters while he focuses on the feeling of your touch, on burning the memory of your expression and the sweet sound of your laughter into his mind. It made him feel strange knowing he was the one making you react in such a way, but it was good.

He wanted to do it more.

“Yes, I happy. You cute.” You reply, smiling warmly at him while he stares at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I like you.” He says, sounding almost breathless as his body hunches over more, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hands explore the rest of your body, stroking and touching and petting you. Mr. Scarletella didn’t want this moment to end.

You chuckle as his breath fans against your skin, telling him gently as you feel his fingers work out any knots in your hair, “I know.”

“I like you, I like you, I like you…” He murmurs against your flesh, “I love you.”

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #mr scarletella #mr scarletella x reader #mr scarletella x you #homicipher x reader #homicipher x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher drabbles #imagines #drabble

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blushsturns · 3 months ago

Note

what if u write a fic where chris ties down sub!reader and he edges her until she's literally sobbing shaking crying

title: tied up

warnings: this contains explicit content and portrays rough sex, but it is all consensual. daddy kink, edging, pet names, rough sex, unprotected p in v

w/c: 1325

as much as chris loved seeing your pretty face all dumbed out and spent, there was something so intoxicating about seeing you like this; face buried against the sheets with your hands skillfully tied behind your back, ass up and your needy pussy on full display. all for him.

fuck, what a sight to see. you looked so fucking perfect and he couldn’t get enough of how well your pussy took his cock as he slammed into you repeatedly, hitting your sweet spot with each and every thrust. your legs started to shake uncontrollably, a string of muffled moans falling from your lips.

“you’re taking it like such a good girl, aren’t you, ma?” he grunted out through gritted teeth as his hands grabbed onto your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh causing you to push your ass back against him. “such a good girl f’me.”

his thrusts were relentless and your body was full on shaking uncontrollably now. your hips rutted back against him to try and match his rapid paced thrusts as he pounded in and out of your tight heat vigorously. the way your tight pussy swallowed him whole each and every time he pounded into you was such an intoxicating feeling and he was fucking obsessed.

chris was a freak in the sheets and you fucking loved it. you also loved the aftercare you’d receive once he was finished with you, but it always left you sore and unable to walk properly for days after. chris fucking loved knowing he could do that to you.

your moans were becoming more intense, your arms stayed tied behind your back as he pounded into you relentlessly. you tilted your head to the side to breathe, choking out a couple moans as you look back at him with pleading eyes. you could tell you were about to cum. your stomach tightened, fire coursing throughout your veins. “daddy i’m gonna cum. can i cum?” you asked him through choked moans, pushing your hips back into his as he continued to fuck into you.

he growled at this, shaking his head at your words. once he felt your pussy start to flutter, signaling you were about to cum, he abruptly (and oh so rudely) pulled out of you causing a whiny groan to leave your lips. “no. you absolutely may not cum.” he said through his clenched teeth, anger building up inside of him.

you felt yourself on the brink of tears at the sudden loss of his cock no longer inside of you, your pussy clenching onto nothingness. this wasn’t the first time you have witnessed chris like this in bed. you loved every single second of it. the pure dominance, the roughness, the ability to make you feel so fucking good that you are brought to tears. he’s denied you of orgasms before, but this one seemed to be the worst one yet.

“chris.” you cried out, looking back at him with tears now spilling down your cheeks, rutting your hips back against the bed in hopes to grind against something, but his cock now was rubbing against your ass cheeks. “please. please let me cum?”

he shook his head in disbelief at your pleas, a darkened chuckle emitting from his lips. he lifted his hand up and instantly made contact with your ass cheek, causing your body to jolt forward and let out a sharp gasp. a pinkish colored hue was visible on your danity skin, both of his hands kneading your ass cheeks in smooth, slow circles. you moaned at the feeling, your core throbbing and dripping wet with your arousal. “you can do better than that, princess. beg for it, like the dirty little whore you are. come on. i know you can do it.”

you loved seeing him like this. even though he was teasing you beyond belief, it was so fucking hot to see him in his element. you looked back at him with pleading eyes, tears streaming down your already tear stained cheeks. “please, daddy! let me cum! need you to fuck me until i can’t even stand straight. want you to pump your cum deep inside of you and fill me to the brim. need you to fuck me like the dirty slut i am.” you choked out your words, rutting your hips back and letting out a gasp as you felt the tip of his cock again your glistening folds once again. “please daddy! fuck me and let me cum! i’m all yours. use me as your personal fuck toy.”

you could hardly see him now through your blurred vision before blinking back more tears, your arms aching from being tied up behind your back as you impatiently wait for him to listen to your eager pleas.

chris grunted in response to your pleas, running his tip along your folds repeatedly, licking over his lips in a hungry motion. “such a dirty little whore. begging to be fucked like one. need to cum, baby? that’s so cute. i don’t think you’re ready for it.”

“daddy please! i am ready! i need it.” you cry out, rutting your hips back to feel his cock slowly slide into your tight heat once again causing your head to roll back against the pillow and immediately moaning out in pure ecstasy, your moans muffled against the pillow.

he lets out a growl, shaking his head at your desperation. he was getting fed up with it, but also with the fact that he was also edging himself in the process which wasn’t fun at all. “fine. you can be a dirty little whore and take this cock and cum all over it. but you also have to let me cum deep inside of this tight little pussy too.” he grunted out, running his tip up and down your glistened wet folds.

chris begins to thrust back inside of you, allowing you to take every inch of him until he’s balls deep inside of you. you let out a loud cry, your face pressed against the pillow. he grabs onto your ass cheeks for leverage as his thrusts grow more erratic, signaling his release was rapidly approaching.

your pussy swallowed his cock so nicely, squelching sounds of your arousal surrounding his thickened cock as he pounds into you relentlessly, hitting your g-spot with each and every thrust. “fuck, such a dirty slut.” he grunts out, sweat pooling against his hairline and down to his forehead as he speeds up his thrusts.

the only sounds in the room are of your bodies making contact and your breathy moans. you were so close and now that he gave you permission, you can fully let go. “g-gonna..cum!” you cried out against the pillow, your words muffled against the fabric as you thrust your ass back into him.

he raises his hand up to smack your ass once again before gripping onto it roughly to hold onto it as he continues to pound into you, the feeling of your pussy beginning to flutter and clench around him causing him to let out a throaty groan. he was so damn close to his orgasm. “yeah? you gonna cum all over this big fuckin’ dick baby? do it. prove to me how much of a fuckin’ cockslut you are.” he spoke through gritted teeth, his head lolling to his shoulder as he continued to pound into you.

after giving you the permission finally, you came all over his cock and he filled you up to the brim. your arms went limp as they fell to your sides, your body falling onto the bed as his release spills out of you.

chris was great at aftercare, grabbing a washcloth to clean you up, water for you to drink and cuddle you underneath the sheets.

sure, he edged you, but at least he gave you what you wanted in the end. after all, he wanted it too.

taglist-

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @fetusjikook @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem

thanks for the request! you guys can send any more requests to my inbox!

-nessa ღ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #sturniolo fic #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #blushsturnsღ

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daincrediblegg · 1 year ago

Text

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

#fanfiction #fanart #reblogging #boop

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sundrop-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Need

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Daryl comes back from a run acting strangely needy, and you find out that Zach made him jealous. (You may have to thank Zach later.)

Or - Daryl fucks your brains out to prove to himself that you're his.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during early Season 4/The Prison Era.

Word Count: 3,000

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is mainly a smut fic - the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader and Daryl have a sexual relationship that skews slightly romantic; the reader's age is not at all specified; Daryl being very needy (hence the title); Daryl is more dominant the reader is more submissive, but there is no laid out rigid roles; Daryl is jealous and trying to 'claim' the reader after someone else makes sexual comments about her (when she is not around to hear those comments); mentions of Daryl drinking alcohol and smoking (does not take place during the fic, just a background element); some manhandling - from Daryl towards the reader (nothing unrealistic or beyond Daryl's known strength); oral sex - reader receiving (Daryl certified pussy eater); references to hunting/killing animals for food (come on, this is a Daryl fic); Daryl is slightly mean in this (he tells the reader to shut up) - but he's not vengeful or mean on purpose, he's just in a mood; spit kink - Daryl spits on the reader's pussy; pussy spanking (this was such a last minute addition and I am so glad I did); Daryl calls the reader 'woman'; overstimulation - towards reader; mention of the reader crying/having tears in her eyes (due to overstimulation); Daryl being very possessive due to his jealousy; hair-pulling - Daryl receiving; very slight anal play (Daryl tongues the reader's asshole - juust a bit); penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom and there are no mentions of other forms of birth control (don't be like them); there is no mention of Daryl cumming inside the reader, though because the fic ends before we get to his orgasm (sorry, Daryl); slight cockwarming; the sex gets rough toward the end; I believe that's it for this fic?

A/N: No, this was not the winner of the poll. But right now I am in a mindset for TWD fics because I have been watching the show and I think it's a good opportunity to get this one out of my drafts - especially because it's shorter and easier to edit. If it's not your thing, feel free to ignore it. Also, I am not doing a taglist for this one because a lot of people on the taglist last time did not follow my taglist rules (basically, they were tagged and they didn't show up to read the fic, so it feels like a 'why bother' type of situation). So I'm gonna clean out the taglist and after such a short time, I am considering quitting taglists altogether. Anyway, if you do read it, I hope you enjoy the fic.

...

Need.

That was the only word you could use to describe Daryl in those moments as he threw you down onto the cot and ripped your pants off with record speed. The air was absolutely ripe with need, the likes of which you had never felt or seen from Daryl before. Especially not in this magnitude.

Daryl Dixon was someone who rarely came off as needy.

Since the two of you had started this relationship (it was strange to call it a ‘relationship’ when there was so little conventional romance to it, and so few words) - Daryl was never someone you would have described as ‘needy’. He was always the definition of calm. He was level-headed, quiet, reserved - even more so in the face of your intense needs. The more you became a puddle of melded need, when you boiled over into pure want, especially in his presence, the more he turned into a stone wall of uncrackable cold hardness that you wanted so desperately to see crack.

It was a game the two of you had been playing since day one. And he hadn’t lost yet, not once.

Of course, the sex was amazing - even if he never let that facade down. He made sure that your overwhelming, unhidden need always came first. He made sure that you had cum first - usually more than once - before he even considered sticking his cock inside of you or letting you drop to your knees in order to serve him. He was never selfish - a man that lived to serve, in fact.

That was why it surprised you when he came back from a run that day and grabbed you by your arm, practically dragging you out to the admin block. It was a place that you and Daryl had set up a little nest for personal privacy in the old warden’s office. Daryl had chosen the location both for its privacy, and for the wonderful irony.

He found it downright hilarious that he was someone who had been reprimanded by cops before the total collapse of society and had been nearly arrested half a dozen times (he liked to put the emphasis on nearly, because he was a fast runner and often disappeared into the woods where they didn’t care to chase him, in contrast to someone like Merle, who was a known drug dealer was of far more interest to them - and much slower). Daryl was someone who could have easily ended up in prison, and now he could sit behind a warden’s desk and smoke a stash of fancy cigars that he had found hidden, and he had polished off the fancy whiskey in between fucking you.

And he took an even greater enjoyment in fucking you pinned against the warden’s desk - but for practical purposes, he had lugged a cot into the office and set up a more comfortable space for the two of you there. The two of you even slept there sometimes because he still refused to sleep ‘in a cage’ - as he put it. Everyone else in the prison liked to fake that they didn’t know where the two of you went, but really - they were just glad that your love nest was far enough away from everyone else that they didn’t have to be subjected to the sounds you and Daryl made.

And you were glad that you didn’t have to pretend to go hunting in order to escape to the woods for some privacy. Especially because, even as capable as Daryl was, the threat of Walkers looming over your head while he fucked you did make it a bit difficult to get fully lost in the sensations.

But all of that was far at the back of your mind while he shucked off his crossbow and tossed it aside carelessly (usually he was someone who was careful to put away his weapon, not wanting to damage it so that he wouldn’t have to waste precious time on repairs) - but today, there was something simply rabid about him. Something itching and impatient.

You couldn’t deny that it turned you on, but you had to question what had caused the shift in him. Especially when all of your little games - your teasing, your flirting, your dirty words - hadn’t been able to crack him for months.

“Daryl, what’s gotten into-?”

You couldn’t even finish posing the question before he began ripping on the waistband of your pants once again. That tense irritability became potent in the air once again when the fabric got caught up in your boots, Daryl letting out a deep grunt and glaring at the obstacle.

You reached for the laces in order to get everything off, thinking this was what he wanted, but he simply put two large, commanding, calloused hands on the backs of your thighs and shoved down - hard. He pinned you down to the cot with a tough force, something that made the metal of the supposedly temporary furniture squeal with a worrying sound. You almost didn’t hear it over the pitiful, whorish gasp that escaped your lips.

He was never like this. He was never so desperate.

You loved it. Your body was flooded by heat, equally as desperate within seconds.

“Daryl!” You cried out, half confused, half hot red and turned on.

Your cunt ached fiercely and clenched around nothing and Daryl locked eyes with that pulsing gash, letting out a pleased hum. There was barely a blink before he dove between his own hands, digging in his fingers in tightly where they held onto your quivering muscles and immediately he licked a long, hard stripe up the center of your pussy.

Hungry.

That was a word you would have used to describe Daryl many times before.

He was messy and shameless when he ate meals. You had seen him dig into game bloody and raw when he had taken you out hunting, when he was starving and impatient and truly treasured a fresh kill.

Currently, that’s exactly what you felt like - a fresh kill, recently captured by him, a true prey animal under his grasp being absolutely devoured while you could do nothing more but lay there and take it.

It felt utterly amazing.

It felt like where you belonged.

The room soon became filled with sounds - loud, adamant slurping as his tongue furiously worked over your cunt, creating the same kind of shameless slobber that he did when he was thoroughly enjoying a meal. Your gasps and moans shuddering through your lungs as the sensations rocked your body, the pitiful squeaking protests of the cot as Daryl leaned against you more, putting more weight on those rusting springs.

He began moaning against your heated flesh while he continued to hold you down by your trembling thighs, and while your ears rang with blood and your face bloomed with heat, you soon realized that the distant, repeated keening sound you could hear - almost like a dying cat - was you.

You were having difficulty catching your breath and you quickly became dizzy from the hot, heavy pleasure vibrating up your body from his tongue. Made even better by the feeling of his coarse beard rubbing against your sensitive pussy lips, and the deep vibrations of his moans against you.

All you could do was tightly clutch onto the blanket you had used to make up the cot and buck your face against him, hoping for him to shove his tongue deep inside of you or put some more persistent attention on your needy, throbbing clit, rather than simply grazing against the sensitive organ with each pass, making you more and more needy -

Daryl groaned into your cunt and then, much to your frustration, he pulled away completely.

“Stop squirmin’.” He grunted at you, his voice a whole new shade of dark and lustful thick that you had never heard from him - one that made your whole body quiver.

You let out a pathetic moan, more wetness gushing out of you.

“Daryl, please-”

“Shut up.”

Somehow, him barking this rudely at you made you even wetter.

You squeaked out another pathetic little sound, expecting that he would get back to devouring you like you were his last meal, seemingly for his own pleasure - but then, he managed to surprise you yet again.

He used his hold on your thighs to spread your legs (as much as he could with your pants still tangling your ankles together). And then he pursed his lips and heaved a thick, heavy glob of spit onto you - aiming perfectly and causing it to land right on your sensitive, swollen clit.

Just like his perfect mouth, it was hot and slick, and simply seeing the shiny bead come from his lips to land on you caused you to scream and buck against him like a cow being branded. Which is exactly what he had intended - for you to be branded by him, marked as his, fully owned by him.

Hot tears of pleasure escaped your eyes and he locked right onto your gaze - even through the choppy dark curtain of his too-long bangs, his steel blue eyes pierced into your soul and the burning lust you saw there punched you in the gut. When he took one of his hands off your thigh, you didn’t have a moment to think about what he was going to do before he brought the heavy pads of his tough, well-worked fingers down onto your already sore clit and spanked you.

Once, twice, three times - something he had done to you before, knowing exactly how hard to hit you without making it painful, just enough to jolt shocking pleasure through your body and make you sob.

“Listen, woman.”

He ground his voice again, lowly, making you shiver when he leaned in and gripped your face with that now wet hand, forcing you to face forward and pay attention to him. You stared at him through tear-misty eyes, absolutely enraptured and lustful, wanting nothing more than him.

“This is mine.” He growled these words with quiet power, driving his point home with another smack to your cunt that had you crying out and seizing against the touch.

“Yours.” You chirped back, eager to affirm it, your brain filled with nothing but him. “Yours, all yours. Daryl-”

Before you could babble out any more affirmations, he took an even tighter, possessive, bruising death grip on you once again. One hand on your hip and the other on your thigh - trying to keep you right where he wanted you as he dove back in, just as hungry. This time he gave into exactly what you wanted, seemingly because your words had been what he wanted. He knew you all too well even without words, and he latched his mouth around your mound with intent, laving his tongue furiously across your clit without relenting.

You weren’t sure which was worse - the teasing, or him tongue-fucking your clit like he was trying to drive you insane.

Your hand flew to his hair with the intention of shoving him off as white hot sparks of overstimulated pleasure-pain flew up through your gut, but your muscles curled instinctively and you wove a tight grip into his locks without thinking. Unintentionally drawing him closer and locking him in place as you gurgled out cries of wounded pleasure and he continued to moan against you, almost making your poor clit numb.

But of course, being as perfect at this as he was with everything else, he drew an orgasm out of you just as he wanted to.

“Daryl! Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m - ah!”

He moaned against you in pure pleasure as it happened, and then he retreated down your pulsing hole to lick up every single bit of your wetness as it freshly flowed out of you. He continued to moan, slurping and flexing his tongue so he wouldn’t miss a drop, eating you like the finest delicacy he had ever experienced. His tongue even strayed down your perineum, dipping into your other hole a bit, clearly unafraid and never shy, not wanting to miss a single bit of your taste.

You were left panting, desperate to catch your breath, and with your brain still completely out of commission, he stood up, his mind already on an entirely new track. You couldn’t contain your whine of disappointment when all of his warmth was suddenly gone, even his hands losing contact with your thrumming skin.

“Daryl-?”

You didn’t have long to question it before you heard the sound of a zipper.

Not even knowing when you had closed your eyes, you whipped them open to see him shoving his pants down to mid-thigh and pumping his cock in hand a few stray times before he stepped toward you. You weren’t the biggest fan of the ‘bent in half like a pretzel’ position, as your back was starting to ache slightly, but he took the look of pure hunger in your eyes was all the consent he needed (especially with the way your gaze was focused on his cock, the slight glisten of precum beading at the tip).

He was secure in knowing that you would stop him or tell him no if you needed to.

And there were absolutely no thoughts of stopping on your mind when he put a hand back on your hip and used the other hand to guide his cock into you, sinking deep inside of your slicked, hot cunt in one smooth movement.

Fuck - he always filled you up so fucking good.

“Dar-”

“All fuckin’ day.” Daryl growled out, tight through his teeth, taking only a single moment before he began to pump his hips forward, fucking into you.

He wasn’t quite as furious as before, his pace slower now. Seemingly, he had gotten some of that pure need out of his system by eating your pussy. He began to thrust in and out of you at a leisurely pace, making you feel comfortably, pleasantly full.

“All fuckin’ day, I had to listen to Zach’s goddamn yappin’.”

Your brain was slowly coming back into function.

He had gone on the run with Zach and Sasha.

You thought Daryl liked Zach?

Surprisingly, Daryl then reached for your shoes and began undoing the laces - perhaps now finally interested in getting your pants and shoes out of the way. You just laid back and let him do whatever he pleased, your cunt flashing with a warm, pleasant feeling - simply enjoying that it was Daryl fucking you.

“Had to listen to that little smart-mouthed fuckin’ asshole-”

Daryl let out another grunt, smacking his hips into yours particularly hard, causing you to let out a gasp. He took off one of your shoes and dropped it to the ground.

“Had to listen to him go on and on about you.”

What?

Then went the other shoe.

Your jeans followed soon after, easily untangled from your legs by Daryl’s deft fingers, making your legs free up to spread widely, inviting him in further - he laid himself down against your body, and you found your muscles much less stiff with your knees bracketing around his waist. There was another moment of comfortable fullness - stillness, as he laid there, nosing at your neck, seemingly enjoying your scent with deep breaths.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked, boiling over with curiosity until the question leapt out of you.

“What happened with Zach?” You had to ask, still slightly fuck-dumb and confused.

You didn’t know it, but hearing the name come off your lips was enough to trigger another intense wave of that feeling in Daryl. The jealousy, the neediness, the urge to claim you.

Daryl let out another harsh growl - a sound coming from him that made your pussy leak around him and clench down hard on his cock. He grabbed both your hands and entwined your fingers with his - a fierce, demanding grip rather than a romantic one. He kept you pinned in place, right where he wanted you, and he began fucking his hips into you at a fast, hard pace that was enough to push a scream right from your lungs.

“He - would-n’t - shut - the - fuck - up.” Daryl grunted in your ear, emphasizing each sharp syllable with a deep, harsh pounding of his hips into your pussy. “About you.” He whispered those words lowly, dangerously into your ear.

“Daryl-” You gasped, your whole body dizzy and vibrating with that electricity once again.

“About your ass-”

He reached down and grabbed your ass - harsh, digging his fingers into the flesh with a possessive touch that made you cry out. He hammered his hips forward and used that touch to drag you toward his cock, fucking you onto him like a fleshlight for a few moments before he continued speaking.

“About your tits-”

He reached up and groped your breasts aggressively through your shirt, popping one of the tiny decorative buttons. A wreckage that would only serve to show off more cleavage in the end. Your nipples instantly became stiff under his touch and you arched into his hands - only for the rough, wonderful feeling to be gone too soon.

“Daryl,”

“He wouldn’t stop talkin’ bout what you might look like when you cum.” He growled out. “When he ain’t never gonna get to know.”

It was thrilling, him being so possessive of you now. But you knew that it was so Daryl. Him being angry at Zach for speaking about you in a vulgar way, but holding his tongue - not speaking up then because he wanted to keep your relationship private, didn’t want to claim you in front of someone publicly.

Or he simply kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to lose his temper when they had a job to do.

“He wouldn’t stop-”

“Please, I’m yours.” You moaned out, grinding your hips into him desperately, needy for his full and focused attention.

As much as you enjoyed the jealousy streak that had started this heated encountered, you needed Daryl to focus on you now - not on the words of some petty boy who had either been trying to rile Daryl up or didn’t even know the two of you were together because of the lack of PDA in your relationship.

“Daryl, please. I’m yours.”

“Tha’s right,” Daryl growled out, his voice dangerously low. “You’re mine.”

He leaned tightly over you once again, and when his hips picked up speed - you were done for.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has already been written. If you like this and you want to see more of my fics in my style, you can check out my most recent fic Heaven's Gate, which is also a Daryl Dixon x Reader fic, or you can check out my other TWD works on AO3.

#sundrop writes #daryl twd #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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cloudyluun · 2 months ago

Text

Press play (p2) | boyfriend!harry

Summary: The first tape wasn’t enough. Harry’s obsessed. One camera? Not enough angles. One location? Not enough variety. One night? Not enough time. This time, he films her in every room, in every position, with every toy he owns—and makes sure she begs for more. Because this isn’t just about recording anymore. This is about pushing her to her absolute limit while the cameras catch every second.

A/N: So… if the first fic was a little spicy, this one is hellfire levels of unholy. 🫠 Writing this felt like a crime, but a crime I would absolutely commit again. 🔥 Hope you’re hydrated and emotionally stable because this is a lot—and yes, before you ask, there will be a part tree. 😈

Also, if anyone asks why my search history includes “best high-sensitivity microphones for ASMR,” no, you don’t.

Word Count: 7,8k

Warnings:

Heavy BDSM elements – Bondage, impact play, restraints, gagging, plugs, edging, overstimulation… Basically, if it belongs in a locked drawer, it’s in here.

Spit, deep-throating, gagging, face-fucking – Hydration is important, folks.

Filming/recording during sex (consensual) – Harry’s got a passion for cinematography. Scorsese could never.

Public teasing & humiliation – Sex shop, car ride, open windows… Someone revoke this man’s driver’s license and curtain privileges.

Rough sex – Choking, spanking, forced orgasms… the usual scheduled programming.

Dirty talk, degradation, praise kink – A poetic balance of “good girl” and “filthy little slut.”

Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath play – Hope you weren’t planning on walking after this.

Aftercare – Because Harry’s only a menace 98% of the time. The other 2%? He’s feeding you water and telling you how proud he is.

(if i missed any, dm me please!)

[part 1]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You can feel his eyes on you again.

It’s been happening for days—catching him watching you, smirking like he knows something you don’t. He isn’t even subtle about it. He’ll stretch out on the couch, legs spread wide, fingers lazily tapping against his thigh as the screen flickers, bathing his face in dim light. He watches you on repeat. Watches the way you fell apart for him the first time. The way you begged, the way you shook. He knows every second by heart, every moan, every filthy plea.

And the worst part? You don’t even blame him.

Because the few times you’ve dared to look—just a peek—you were just as wrecked as he claimed. Eyes glassy, mouth parted, body trembling under his touch. A perfect mess. His.

So when you catch him again, he doesn’t look guilty. Not even a little.

“Can’t help it, angel.” His voice is rough, thick with something dark. “You look so fucking good coming apart for me.”

Heat licks up your spine, your thighs pressing together on instinct. But he notices. Of course he notices.

He cocks his head, dragging his gaze over you, slow and heavy. Then, as if deciding something, he stands and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

You blink. “What?”

“We’re going out.”

He doesn’t give you a choice.

The electronics store is bright, all sleek displays and humming screens. It smells faintly of new plastic, and if you weren’t so hyper-aware of the man next to you—the way his hand rests low on your back, the way his thumb strokes slow circles against your hip—you might have actually paid attention to the endless rows of cameras.

But Harry is focused.

Not just on you—though you can feel the weight of his gaze every time you shift—but on the equipment. He moves with purpose, eyes scanning through specs, occasionally nodding like he’s mentally checking things off a list you aren’t privy to.

You watch as he picks up a high-end camera, testing the weight in his palm.

“This one?” you ask.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, tilting it slightly, examining the lens. “Good quality, but not enough angles.”

The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip.

You know what he’s planning. Know this isn’t just about upgrading. It’s about more. More angles, more footage, more ways to capture exactly how wrecked he can make you.

Your breath catches as he moves onto something else—a small, discreet device.

“Is that—”

“A hidden camera?” He smirks. “Yeah. Could put it anywhere. Get a nice little collection going.”

You swallow hard.

He keeps going. A high-sensitivity microphone. A ring light. A sleek little tripod. He handles them with the kind of ease that makes your knees weak, like he’s already imagining exactly where he’ll set them up.

The sales clerk approaches then, offering a polite, professional smile.

“Can I help you with anything?”

You barely hear the question before Harry shifts behind you, his body pressing up against yours, his lips grazing your ear. His voice is low, for you and only you.

“Could fuck you right here.”

Your entire body goes rigid.

“Harry—”

“Bend you over the counter,” he continues, voice thick with amusement. His fingers ghost up your thigh, barely there, but your skin burns all the same. “Let the security cameras catch everything.”

Your breath stutters, a choked gasp slipping out before you can stop it.

The sales clerk clears his throat. “Uh… I can walk you through some of the settings if you’d like?”

You try to nod, try to play it off, but Harry doesn’t move. He stays pressed against you as the clerk launches into a dry explanation, and it takes everything in you to stand still. To keep your composure while Harry’s fingers tease the hem of your skirt, inching higher, higher—

You nearly jump when the touch disappears.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry says smoothly, stepping back like nothing just happened. “We’ll take all of these.”

Your head spins.

All of them.

Three cameras, a microphone, a ring light. Enough to film you in every angle he wants, from every perspective, with every sound recorded crystal clear.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until Harry’s fingers brush over your wrist, grounding you.

“One more stop, angel.” His voice is warm, teasing.

Your stomach twists.

You already know where he’s taking you.

The sex shop is discreet, tucked between two high-end boutiques. The windows are dark, the sign subtle, but the moment you step inside, you feel the shift—the heavy hush, the intimate displays, the slow thrum of something low and pulsing over the speakers.

Harry walks in like he’s been here before. Like he owns the place.

And in a way, he does.

You can feel it in the way he moves, the way his fingers trail along the shelves, occasionally plucking something up, rolling it between his fingers, considering. You barely have time to register what he’s holding before he makes a quiet noise of approval and adds it to the growing collection in his arms.

Nipple clamps. A flogger. Silk restraints. A plug set.

Your face burns as he turns to you, offering one of the smaller plugs in his palm.

“Go to the bathroom.”

You freeze.

His eyes don’t waver.

“Put them in.” His voice is calm, steady. “Now.”

You hesitate for half a second—just long enough to see the flicker of warning cross his features.

And then you obey.

The moment the door shuts behind you, your hands shake as you follow his command. The plug is smooth, easy, but it’s the panties that make you squirm—just the thought of them in public, the knowledge that Harry could turn them on at any moment.

When you return, he’s waiting.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches. Then, after a long pause—long enough for you to start fidgeting under his stare—he steps closer, brushing his lips over your temple.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes your knees nearly buckle.

He smirks. “Let’s go.”

The drive home is torture.

You should have known it would be.

Because the second Harry starts the car, his fingers flick something on his phone, and suddenly—

“Oh,” you gasp, your back arching slightly.

The vibrations are low, teasing, barely enough to do anything but make you ache.

Harry hums, casual. “You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, but you nod, breathless.

He turns the setting up. Just a little. Just enough to make you squirm.

Red light.

The car slows.

His hand drifts over your thigh.

“You can hold it, can’t you?”

You bite your lip, nodding again, your thighs pressing together.

Green light.

The vibrations ease slightly, but the pattern shifts, unpredictable.

It continues like this—slow torture, relentless teasing, each stoplight an opportunity for him to push you closer and closer to the edge.

By the time you pull into the garage, you’re shaking. Your fingers dig into the seat, your breathing uneven.

Harry watches, amused.

Then, just as he parks, he leans in, his voice silk-smooth against your ear.

“Come.”

Your breath stutters.

“Now,” he murmurs. “And don’t make a sound.”

The vibrations increase, sudden and sharp, and it takes everything in you not to cry out. Your entire body trembles as the orgasm washes over you, your fingers clutching the seat, your lips parted in a silent whimper.

Harry watches it all.

When it finally fades, your body slumping back against the leather, he exhales, slow and satisfied.

“That’s one, angel.”

His fingers trace your thigh, teasing.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

His voice is warm, teasing, dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it. Something that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. That look in his eyes—the one that tells you he’s not even close to satisfied.

Your skin is still buzzing, oversensitive from what he did to you in the car, but he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving.

He steps out, rounding the car without urgency, and when he opens your door, he doesn’t say a word—just waits. Expecting.

You step out on shaky legs.

The air outside is thick and warm, but the heat that lingers between your thighs is worse. You can still feel the echoes of pleasure from the first orgasm he ripped out of you, still feel the way your body clenched around nothing when he left you empty.

He knows it, too.

He watches you carefully, fingers ghosting over your hip as he leads you inside, through the dimly lit hallway, past the living room where you’ve already let him ruin you so many times before.

The moment the bedroom door shuts behind you, the shift is immediate.

Harry rolls his shoulders, tilting his head slightly, studying you.

Assessing.

Your pulse spikes.

The room is different.

You notice it instantly—the small but deliberate changes.

The cameras.

One on a tripod at the foot of the bed. Another placed carefully on the nightstand, positioned just right. The third—mounted directly above the mattress. Overhead shots.

Your stomach twists.

Then your eyes catch on the microphone.

It’s clipped beside the camera on the nightstand, small but powerful, capable of picking up every gasp, every moan, every tiny, desperate sound you make for him.

Your thighs squeeze together.

And on the sheets?

Silk.

Black silk ties, draped neatly across the mattress. Waiting.

Your breath catches.

He planned this.

Your skin prickles as you turn back toward him, but he’s already watching you, already smirking like he can hear the way your thoughts are racing.

His hand lifts, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

“Strip.”

One word.

No room for hesitation.

A slow, creeping shiver spreads down your spine, and your hands move before you can even think.

You reach for the hem of your dress, slipping it over your head in one slow motion. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you bare—except for the lace panties he forced you into earlier and the plug still nestled between your cheeks.

Harry’s gaze darkens.

His tongue drags along his bottom lip, and he exhales slow, controlled, fingers flexing at his sides.

“On the bed.”

You shudder.

It’s not just a command—it’s a promise.

Your heart pounds as you move toward the mattress, sinking onto the soft sheets. The moment you do, Harry follows, climbing onto the bed with deliberate slowness, his toned body flexing as he hovers over you.

The silk restraints are still lying there. Waiting.

He picks one up, twirling it lazily between his fingers before tilting his head, green eyes locking onto yours.

“Let me tie you up, angel.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a test.

You swallow hard, feeling the last shred of control slipping away, and nod.

But he doesn’t move.

His smirk deepens.

“Say it.”

Your breath stutters. The words feel thick in your throat, but when they finally come, they’re barely more than a whisper.

“Tie me up, Harry.”

Something flickers in his eyes. A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips, and then—

He moves.

Swift. Effortless. Expert.

He grabs your wrist, looping the silk around it, securing it to the headboard with a practiced ease that makes your stomach tighten. Then the other wrist—soft but firm, tight but not painful. You test the restraints. No give.

Your breathing is already uneven.

He shifts down, grabbing your ankle next.

You jerk instinctively, but it’s useless.

Harry likes you like this—helpless beneath him, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

By the time he secures your other ankle, your body is already trembling. Spread wide. Exposed. Completely at his mercy.

You test the restraints again.

You can’t move.

The realization sends a sharp, dizzying pulse of heat straight between your legs.

Harry notices.

He always does.

He hums, pleased, dragging his knuckles along your inner thigh. His touch is featherlight, teasing, barely even there.

And then—

He reaches into his pocket.

Your breath hitches.

The remote.

Your stomach drops.

The plug.

He clicks it on.

The vibration is instant.

Low at first—deep, pulsing, sending sharp, concentrated pleasure straight through your core. Right where you need it most.

A helpless whimper rips from your throat. Your hips jerk automatically, body arching against the restraints, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape the relentless stimulation.

Harry watches every second of it.

The way your thighs tremble, the way your lips part in desperate little gasps, the way your stomach tightens.

And then—

He turns on the camera.

You freeze.

The red light blinks.

Recording.

Your stomach clenches, heat flooding your skin, because this moment—your wrists tied, your legs spread, your body already writhing from the toy still pulsing inside you—is being captured.

For him.

Forever.

Harry tilts his head, smirking.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his fingertips along your trembling thigh. His voice is low, smooth, hypnotic. “So fucking pretty like this.”

You let out a broken whimper.

His hand slides higher, teasing along the waistband of your panties. Not touching you where you need it most.

Not yet.

He licks his lips, watching you squirm.

“Think you can come like this, angel?”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly. You don’t answer. You can’t.

But Harry doesn’t need one.

He just turns up the vibration.

And watches.

The vibrations deepened.

Your breath hitched—sharp, desperate, a ragged little sound that barely even made it past your lips. The plug was already relentless, pulsing deep inside you, the sensation twisting tight in your stomach, coiling lower with each slow, calculated increase of the setting.

You were already trembling. Already aching. Already so close.

And Harry hadn’t even touched you yet.

He watched you squirm, wrists and ankles straining against the silk restraints, body arching involuntarily.

Completely at his mercy.

Completely his.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice slow, measured, but dripping with hunger. His knuckles skimmed along your inner thigh, grazing just close enough to where you needed him—but never quite there. Just teasing. Just watching.

And the camera?

Still rolling.

Still capturing every little gasp, every tremor, every desperate little attempt to chase the pleasure he was holding just out of reach.

The red light blinked.

Recording.

His smirk deepened.

“Such a pretty mess, angel.” His voice was low, approving, hypnotic.

You whimpered, hips twitching, but the restraints left you helpless—spread wide, open, exposed, your body reacting instinctively to the overstimulation.

But Harry?

Harry was calm.

Patient.

He sat back, admiring his work—admiring you—as if he had all the time in the world.

And then, finally—finally—

His fingers traced over your panties.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your entire body jolting at the sudden touch. Even through the soaked lace, the warmth of his fingertips sent electricity crackling through your veins.

Harry hummed, pleased.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His fingers pressed lightly, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the fabric. “Been like this all day, haven’t you?”

You nodded frantically, swallowing back a sob. “Y-Yes.”

He chuckled, dark and satisfied, rubbing just a little harder.

“Good girl.”

Your thighs quivered, muscles tensing, your wrists tugging at the restraints again. Every little movement sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body.

And then—

He ripped your panties.

A sharp tear, the lace splitting effortlessly beneath his fingers. The fabric vanished in an instant, and suddenly, there was nothing between you and him.

Nothing stopping him from touching you—truly touching you.

And he did.

Slow. Gentle at first. Just his fingertips, gliding over your drenched folds, exploring.

Spreading you open.

His thumb circled your clit, barely any pressure at all—but after everything? After the teasing, the buildup, the vibrations inside you?

It was too much.

A strangled, helpless sob ripped from your throat, your back arching clean off the mattress.

Harry’s breath caught.

He groaned—actually groaned—watching you break for him.

“Fuck. That sensitive, angel?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else there. Something hungry.

He dragged his fingers through your slick, slow, deliberate.

“Bet you could come just from this.” His voice was silk and sin, completely entranced by the way your body shuddered, twitched, begged.

Your head jerked frantically, desperate, pleading, already teetering on the edge.

“P-Please—”

But before you could even finish the sentence—

He slid two fingers inside you.

Your vision blurred.

The stretch—the depth—the angle—all of it was perfect.

The moment he curled his fingers, you screamed.

The sound punched out of your lungs, raw and wrecked, as he pressed against that perfect, devastating spot.

Harry cursed under his breath, watching every second of it.

The way your body clenched around his fingers, the way you writhed against the restraints, the way your chest heaved, nipples peaked and sensitive beneath the cool air—

Every. Little. Detail.

Captured.

The red light blinking.

Recording.

He moved faster, fingers stroking deep, precise, thumb circling your clit in tight, merciless patterns.

“Come for me,” he growled.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And you had no choice.

The pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave, tearing through every nerve ending in your body. You came with a sob, a scream, a desperate, shattered cry, your body convulsing, legs shaking, clenching so hard around his fingers it was almost unbearable.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, fingers relentless, dragging out every last tremor, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking, sobbing, gasping for air.

And only then—

Only then—

Did he finally slow.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your wrists trembling against the silk. Your whole body felt like static—shattered, floating, buzzing.

And Harry?

Harry was grinning.

He kissed your knee, slow and lazy, as he finally pulled his fingers out of you.

“Such a good girl.”

Your lashes fluttered, vision still hazy, but you could barely even register his words. Your body was spent, ruined, completely undone.

But Harry wasn’t finished.

Because then—

He licked his fingers.

Your stomach plummeted.

He hummed low in his throat, savoring, before grinning.

And then—

He reached for the camera.

Still rolling.

Still capturing everything.

And he smirked.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

Your pulse was still pounding in your ears.

Your body was wrecked, trembling, every nerve ending overstimulated and raw from the orgasm that had just torn through you.

And yet—

Harry still wasn’t done.

He loomed over you, tall, broad, completely in control, the red recording light casting a soft glow over the sharp lines of his jaw. His eyes devoured you, taking in every little detail—

The way your chest heaved. The way your thighs still trembled against the sheets. The way your wrists flexed instinctively against the silk, as if you could stop him.

You couldn’t.

And you didn’t want to.

The bed dipped as he climbed over you, the heat of his bare skin searing against yours.

His cock—hard, leaking, thick and aching—dragged against your swollen folds, notching at your entrance, but not pushing in.

Not yet.

You whimpered, body arching instinctively, desperate for him, but he just chuckled—low, deep, indulgent.

“Mm. Look at you.” His voice was warm honey, slow and deliberate, each word sinking deep into your bones. “So pretty when you beg, angel.”

You bit your lip, hips shifting, trying to chase him.

He smirked.

And then—

The first inch.

You gasped, eyes flying open, head tilting back against the pillows.

He was thick, stretching you open so slowly that it almost burned.

But Harry didn’t give you time to adjust.

Didn’t give you time to think.

Because then—

Another inch.

And another.

Until he was halfway inside you, filling you, the intrusion both devastating and perfect.

Your nails dug into your palms, your body trying to take more—needing more.

And then, Harry reached for the camera.

Still recording.

He angled it down, making sure to capture the way your body was taking him, stretching around him.

His cock twitched.

And then, his voice—low, thick, wrecked:

“Fuck, angel. Look at this.”

You tried to, tried to open your eyes, tried to focus, but then—

He pushed all the way in.

The breath punched out of your lungs.

A sharp, desperate gasp—loud, needy, broken—tore from your throat as he bottomed out, pressing so deep you could feel him everywhere.

Your body clenched around him, still too sensitive, still feeling everything from before.

But Harry just groaned, deep and guttural, hips rolling in the slowest, most devastating grind.

Your toes curled, pleasure sparking white-hot under your skin.

You were still tied up. Still helpless. Still completely his.

And now, you were full.

So full you could barely breathe.

Harry pulled out—slow, deliberate—before thrusting back in just as slow, pushing you open all over again.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, watching you, watching the camera, watching everything.

Your body twitched, squirmed, begged.

He just smirked.

And then—

He set the pace.

Deep, slow strokes, hitting every spot just right, dragging against the oversensitive nerves he’d already ruined.

Your mouth fell open, pleasure crashing over you with every slow thrust.

Every inch of him pressing deep, stretching you so perfectly it hurt.

The camera blinked.

Recording.

Capturing the way your body was shuddering, the way your fists clenched the silk, the way your lips trembled around the moans he was pulling from you.

He leaned down, breath hot against your ear.

“Gonna give me another one, angel?” His voice was taunting, dripping with amusement. “Think you can come for me again?”

You shook your head wildly, chest heaving, eyes glazed over.

“I— I can’t—”

Harry just hummed, lips brushing your temple.

“Yes, you can.”

And then—

He fucked you deeper.

Your back arched instantly, wrists straining, a sob ripping through your throat.

The pleasure was blinding, white-hot, unbearable.

“Harry—”

His teeth scraped against your jaw, his voice gravel and smoke.

“Say it.”

Your breath hitched, nails digging into your palms, body trembling from the sheer force of it.

“Y-Yours,” you gasped.

His hips snapped harder, cock grinding against that devastating spot over and over—relentless, unforgiving.

“Again.”

A strangled sob.

“Yours—fuck—I’m yours.”

His groan was low, wrecked, dangerous.

“Good girl.”

And then—

His hand dropped to your clit.

Your vision blurred.

A sharp, overwhelming cry ripped from your chest, your body jerking violently, pleasure spiraling out of control.

You were gonna come. You were gonna fall apart for him again. You couldn’t stop it.

Harry knew it.

He wanted it.

He fucking needed it.

His fingers worked your clit in tight, ruthless circles, hips grinding deep, pushing you further, further, further—

And then he stopped.

Your body shuddered violently, the cruel absence of release ripping through you in an aching pulse. Your wrists strained against the restraints, fingers curling into fists as if grasping at the pleasure he had just stolen from you.

“No—Harry, please—” Your voice was wrecked, trembling, broken.

He only chuckled, slow and dark, as he withdrew from you completely, leaving you empty and throbbing.

“You were about to come, weren’t you?” he murmured, running a single finger up the slick seam of your cunt.

Your thighs twitched, trying to chase the friction, but the spreader bar kept you locked open, helpless. A desperate whimper crawled up your throat.

“Y-yes, I was—”

Harry tsked, tracing idle circles around your entrance, not giving you what you needed. “Shouldn’t have done that, angel. Didn’t I tell you? You come when I say.”

Tears of frustration burned behind your blindfold. “I c-can’t take anymore—”

A sharp slap landed between your legs, a quick sting against your soaked, sensitive cunt. You gasped, jerking at the impact.

“Oh, you can take more,” Harry said smoothly, rubbing the heated skin where he had just spanked you. “And you will.”

Your whole body quivered as he slid his fingers down, pressing them against the plug still nestled inside you. A strangled sound escaped your lips when he pushed it deeper, rocking it in place.

“Wanna stretch you out properly, baby,” he mused, voice thick with something dangerous. “But first—”

You heard the rustling of fabric, the creak of leather as he stood from the bed.

“Up.”

You barely had the strength to move, but you forced yourself to obey, arms shaking as you struggled against the restraints. The blindfold remained in place, leaving you vulnerable as you listened to him unbuckle something, the unmistakable sound of a belt sliding free from its loops.

Then—his hands were on you again, untying your wrists, removing the spreader bar. Your legs instantly trembled, weak from the overwhelming denial.

“Good girl,” Harry murmured, massaging the sore skin where the restraints had been. “Now, come with me.”

He grasped your chin, tilting your face up as he pulled the blindfold away. Your eyes blinked open, pupils blown wide as you took in the wicked smirk on his lips, the lust-darkened green of his gaze.

Before you could catch your breath, he scooped you into his arms. You barely had time to register the movement before he was carrying you out of the bedroom, past the cameras still recording every second.

The bathroom door swung open. Steam clung to the air as he stepped inside, turning the shower knob until hot water cascaded down, filling the room with a thick, humid heat.

Your back hit the cold tile a second later. You barely had time to react before he pressed his palm against your sternum, urging you down, down, down until your knees met the wet floor.

He grabbed the camera from the counter, flipping the screen toward him. The red recording light glowed as he aimed the lens at you, already kneeling and dripping with arousal.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice a slow drag of filth.

Your breath hitched.

You obeyed.

The second your lips parted, Harry’s smirk deepened. He took his time, letting the camera capture every little detail—the way your tongue flicked out, the way your breath came in short, desperate little pants, the way your lips glistened from the mix of your own arousal and the steam filling the room.

“Fuck, angel,” he murmured, palming his cock, stroking himself right in front of you. “You look so pretty like this.”

He tilted the camera slightly, making sure it caught the way you were already trembling, still wrecked from everything he’d put you through in the bedroom. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your body was still in pieces, still aching, still on the brink.

He tapped the head of his cock against your bottom lip. “Go on. Take it.”

You leaned forward instantly, eager, desperate to please, desperate to have some part of him back inside you. Your tongue darted out, licking the swollen tip before wrapping your lips around it.

The deep groan he let out sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he praised, one hand still holding the camera, the other coming to the back of your head. “Messy, baby. I want to see spit dripping all over that pretty face.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, bobbing your head as your hands found purchase on his thighs. The hot water pounded against your skin, the steam thick, making the whole room feel like a fever dream.

The camera shifted in his grip, the angle catching the way your lips stretched wide around him, the way your throat fluttered as he pushed deeper.

“Shit—” He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening in your hair. “Keep going, angel. Take it all.”

You did. You let him guide you, let him control the pace, let him push further and further until the tip of his cock nudged against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, eyes watering, but you didn’t stop.

Harry groaned, low and wrecked. “Fuck, you’re so good for me.”

He pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, before pushing in again—this time rougher, faster, with more force. You moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward. Spit dribbled down your chin, mixing with the hot water that streamed over your face, but you didn’t care.

“That’s it, baby. Get it all wet for me.”

He adjusted the camera again, angling it downward, capturing the way your lips were red and swollen, the way his cock disappeared between them over and over again. He licked his lips, voice dropping to something even darker.

“Gonna fuck your throat now, angel. You ready for that?”

You could barely nod, but you did, blinking up at him with big, watery eyes.

Harry growled.

“Good girl.”

Then he snapped his hips forward, holding your head in place as he started fucking your mouth.

The force made your throat tighten, made your gag reflex threaten to fight back, but you took it. His cock dragged against the back of your tongue, thick and heavy, every thrust sending you further into the haze of pleasure and submission.

Tears spilled down your cheeks. Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into his thighs as he used you, each thrust more relentless than the last.

“Fuck—look at you.” His voice was wrecked, barely holding on. “Gonna come down your throat, angel. Gonna fill you up nice and fucking full.”

You moaned, the sound muffled around him, but he understood.

“Yeah? You want that?”

You nodded desperately, tears spilling freely now.

Harry cursed, deep and rough, before pulling out just enough to let you breathe—then pushing in one last time, shoving himself as deep as you could take.

With a low, guttural groan, he came, hot and thick down your throat.

“Don’t swallow,” he panted, pulling back just enough to see the mess he’d left on your tongue. He angled the camera, zooming in on your wrecked, ruined expression.

“Show the camera, baby.”

You opened your mouth wider, letting him see everything—the cum pooling on your tongue, the spit clinging to your lips, the way you were completely, utterly wrecked for him.

Harry groaned. “Fuck.”

He smirked down at you, lowering the camera slightly, his thumb tracing the edge of your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You did.

His gaze darkened even more.

“Good girl.”

The moment your lips closed around the last drop, Harry grabbed your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, catching the mix of spit and cum before pressing it back against your tongue.

“Still so fucking messy, angel,” he murmured, his voice rough, raw. “I should make you lick it off my fingers.”

Your tongue flicked out before he could even tell you to, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking obediently. Harry groaned, his free hand fisting in your damp hair as he tilted the camera, capturing the way you looked up at him—wrecked, desperate, willing.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, gripping your jaw tight before hauling you to your feet.

“Not done with you yet,” he muttered, voice dripping with something dangerous. “C’mon.”

He dragged you out of the bathroom, still naked, your legs barely steady after everything he’d put you through. The cameras in the bedroom were still recording, red lights blinking as he led you straight through and into the living room.

The moment your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, your stomach flipped.

The windows.

The massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, wide open, stretching across the entire room.

Anyone could see.

Your breath caught as Harry maneuvered you toward the couch, his grip firm, unyielding. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even give you a moment to protest before pushing you down, bending you over the armrest, pressing your chest into the soft fabric.

“Stay.”

A shiver rolled through you.

You didn’t dare move.

Behind you, you heard him shifting, placing the camera down, adjusting it for the best angle. Then—his hands. Rough and warm as they skimmed over your hips, down the backs of your thighs. His palms kneaded your ass before spreading you open, exposing every inch of you to both him and the camera.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you.”

Heat flooded your body. You squirmed under his touch, your thighs already sticky, already aching.

He didn’t like that.

His palm cracked against your ass, sharp and sudden.

You gasped, jolting forward.

“Be still,” he ordered. “Wanna make sure the camera gets a good look.”

You bit your lip, your body thrumming with anticipation as his fingers slid between your legs, teasing, testing. You were still soaked—already wrecked from the way he’d used you in the bedroom, the bathroom, every fucking room he wanted.

And yet, you still wanted more.

He chuckled darkly.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles against your clit before pulling away.

You whined softly.

“Patience, angel,” he said, his tone taunting.

He reached for something—a bottle of lube, cold as he drizzled it between your cheeks. His fingers smoothed it over your skin, teasing your hole, making you twitch beneath him.

“One day,” he murmured, leaning in, voice just for you. “One day, baby, I’m gonna fuck you here too. Gonna stretch you out nice and slow.”

You whimpered, fingers curling into the couch.

“But not tonight.”

Instead, he pushed inside your pussy in one hard, punishing thrust.

You cried out, your body arching at the overwhelming sensation. He was still thick, still hard, still relentless. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust—his hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he set a brutal pace.

The wet sounds of skin against skin filled the room, mixing with your gasps, your whimpers, the deep groans spilling from his lips.

The camera was still recording.

Harry reached for it, lifting it with one hand, angling it down to catch everything—the way he filled you, the way you took him so fucking well, the way your body trembled beneath him.

He smirked, never slowing down.

“Wave, baby,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Let them see how good you take it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a sharp spike of humiliation cutting through the pleasure. You could feel the heat of the camera on you, the weight of his stare, the way he watched you through the lens, utterly transfixed.

Your fingers gripped the couch tighter, your body burning with the mix of overstimulation and the sheer, undeniable thrill of it all.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. “Be good for me.”

Shame curled in your chest, but the need to obey—to give him exactly what he wanted—was so much stronger.

You lifted one trembling hand from the couch and waved.

Harry groaned. “Fuck, look at you.”

He rewarded you with a brutal thrust, his cock slamming so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs. Your arm dropped, a broken sound slipping from your lips as he kept going, his grip tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

The angle was devastating—his cock hitting deep, rubbing against every sensitive spot inside you, his pace merciless. The obscene sound of your slick filled the space, your body taking everything he gave without resistance, already so fucking ruined for him.

The camera was still rolling.

He moved it slightly, shifting to get a better angle, then pressed it close to where your bodies met, capturing the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“See that, angel?” he taunted. “See how fucking good you take me?”

You couldn’t even form words, your forehead pressing into the couch, your entire body trembling.

He leaned down, his chest flush against your back, the camera still in his hand. His breath was hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You were made for this,” he whispered. “Made for me.”

Your walls clenched at the words, your body betraying you completely.

Harry groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he caught himself, before he pulled back and gave you a particularly sharp thrust—one that had you gasping, your hands gripping the couch for dear life.

His free hand snaked between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.

Your whole body tensed, the pressure inside you coiling tighter, tighter, so close to snapping—

And then he stopped.

You sobbed, your body shaking, your walls fluttering helplessly around nothing as he pulled out of you completely.

You felt him shift behind you, setting the camera back down, letting it capture the way your body trembled, the way your thighs clenched, desperate for more.

Then his hands were on you again, flipping you over, pressing your back against the couch cushions. His weight caged you in, his gaze dark, predatory.

“Not done with you yet, angel,” he murmured, dragging his thumb across your swollen lips, watching the way you panted beneath him.

The camera was still rolling.

His hand slipped between your legs again, teasing your slick entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your overstimulated clit just to watch you squirm.

“You want more?” he asked, voice rough, teasing.

You nodded frantically, too wrecked to form words.

He smirked.

“Then get on the counter.”

Your legs barely worked as you scrambled up, body still trembling, overstimulated and desperate as you obeyed his command. The moment your feet hit the floor, Harry grabbed you by the waist, guiding you toward the kitchen with effortless control.

The counter was cold against your burning skin as he lifted you onto it, positioning you exactly where he wanted. Your thighs fell open instinctively, the evidence of everything he’d done to you glistening between them, your body still slick, still aching.

Harry groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he reached down, grabbing something from the bag on the counter. Your stomach flipped as he held it up.

The large plug.

Your breath hitched, anticipation and overstimulation clashing in a way that made you shiver.

“Color?” he murmured, his voice softer now, more serious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe past the haze of it all. “Green.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he smirked, trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“That’s my girl.”

He kissed you then—hot and deep, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing the air from your lungs. His free hand worked between your legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

Then, without warning, he pressed the plug against your entrance, pushing it in.

Your whole body tensed, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as the stretch burned for just a second—before the pleasure hit. The fullness, the pressure, the way it made everything more intense.

Harry pulled back, watching your face, drinking in every reaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Taking it so fucking well.”

The praise sent another shiver down your spine. You clenched around the plug instinctively, and Harry groaned at the sight, gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he taunted. “How much better it makes everything?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to breathe.

But he wasn’t done.

Reaching down, he clicked a button—and vibrations pulsed deep inside you.

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body jolting against the counter as the sudden stimulation hit all at once.

Harry just chuckled, watching you squirm.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Already falling apart for me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust, to catch your breath—his hands were already on you again, pushing your legs wider, lining himself up.

“Just one more, angel,” he whispered. “Just one more.”

Then he thrust inside you.

You choked on a gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrations, the stretch, the way his cock filled you so perfectly—

It was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Harry grunted, his grip on your hips bruising as he set a punishing pace, fucking into you deep, fast, relentless. His free hand shot up to your throat, his fingers curling around the column of your neck, squeezing just enough to make your pulse race.

Your vision blurred at the edges, your body trembling beneath him.

“S’this how you wanted it?” he growled. “Getting fucked so hard you can’t even think?”

Tears streamed down your face, your body wracked with pleasure, every nerve alight, every inch of you burning with overstimulation.

Harry groaned at the sight, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. His pace never faltered, his thrusts deep and brutal, fucking you through it, dragging it out.

Your walls clenched around him, the vibrations pushing you closer, closer—

And then you shattered.

Your entire body convulsed, pleasure slamming into you like a freight train, the orgasm ripping through you so violently you nearly sobbed. Your nails raked down his back, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release.

Harry cursed under his breath, his movements growing erratic, rougher. He pulled out at the last second, groaning as he spilled across your stomach, his chest heaving, his body tense.

For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was your ragged breathing.

Then, slowly, Harry reached for the camera—lifting it, angling it down, capturing the absolute wreckage of you.

“Fuck,” he murmured, tracing a hand down your trembling thigh. “You look so pretty like this.”

The camera clicked off.

And then, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you straight back to bed.

The sheets were cool against your overheated skin as Harry laid you down, his grip still firm but gentle. Your body felt weightless, trembling, drained from everything he had put you through—but he wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

He reached for a towel, wiping the mess from your stomach, his touch softer now, deliberate, taking his time as he cleaned you up. You shivered under his hands, your body still sensitive, overstimulated beyond belief.

Harry hummed, low and satisfied. “You did so fucking good for me, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed damp hair from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shift in him was stark, a complete contrast from the dominant force he had been just minutes ago. Now, he was patient. Tender.

He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand, twisting the cap off before bringing it to your lips. “Drink.”

You obeyed, swallowing the cool liquid, letting it soothe your raw throat. Harry watched you carefully, thumb stroking over your jaw.

“There you go,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”

Your heart squeezed at the praise, warmth curling in your chest. Even now, with your limbs weak and body wrecked, you craved it.

Harry must have seen it on your face, because he smirked, setting the bottle aside before slipping into bed beside you. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you flush against him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, running his palm up and down your back, soothing, grounding.

You sighed into the touch, relaxing against him, sinking into his warmth.

His lips ghosted along your shoulder, pressing soft kisses up your neck, along your jaw. He traced every mark he had left on you, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sensitive skin.

A deep, contented sound rumbled from his chest as he held you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your hip. “Proud of you, angel. Took everything so well for me.”

A sleepy hum slipped past your lips. You barely had the energy to respond, too far gone, your body melting into his.

Harry chuckled, the sound low and raspy.

Then, you felt it—his fingers reaching for the remote, grabbing it from the nightstand.

A moment later, the TV flickered to life.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t need to look to know what he was playing.

Heat crept up your neck as the sounds of your own moans filled the room, the unmistakable echo of skin on skin, the filthy words he had murmured against your lips now playing back in crisp, high-definition audio.

Your breath hitched.

Harry smirked, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, hungry, still burning despite everything.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the replay, his hand trailing down, fingertips ghosting over your still-sensitive core. “So fucking wrecked. So perfect.”

Your cheeks burned, embarrassment and arousal clashing, twisting deep in your stomach.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re keeping all of this,” he whispered against your skin. “Our own little collection.”

You barely had the strength to respond, your body too heavy, your brain too foggy.

But just before sleep claimed you, you heard him murmur one last thing—

“Hope you know… there’s going to be a part three.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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pedgito · 3 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader x Eddie Munson

summary | Joel and you go on patrol and woah—Eddie's coming with?

author's note | uh...hahaha. okay. i had a brief moment the other night, a lapse in judgement if you will and was like...joel would so be annoyed of eddie if they were stuck on patrol together and then we got horny and that's how this came about. this is my early valentines gift to WHOEVER is reading and enjoying this, it was a blast to write. a special thanks to @gracieheartspedro @amanitacowboy &. @chaotic-mystery for supporting my insane and always stupid ideas.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, is this crossfic or crackfic the jury is still out, jackson!joel, eddie munson survives but the cost = apocalypse, threesomes (m/m/f), eddie is an absolute munch, voyeurism, unprotected piv, spitting, ass slaps, slight dom/sub undertones across the board, this is ALL about reader and getting both her men, double creampies, cum feeding, choking, freak nasty at an unhinged level i'm sorry

word count — 5.5k

You were the one who found him.

Eddie.

Alone, hungry, terrified.

Hiding inside an abandoned boathouse for days in a patrol spot that had been neglected for most of the winter. It was only chance that you came alone, usually stuck with Joel who would have scared him off in a matter of seconds.

He’s like a puppy, shrinking impossibly smaller despite his height and lanky figure, hair filthy with a mix of dirt and leaves, weeks spent living savagely in search of his next meal and resting place.

Luckily, Tommy Miller was a soft soul.

One look at Eddie and Tommy didn’t even question it.

Eddie had made his rounds, too. He tried to find a place where he fit - kitchen duty wasn’t great, nor was butchering or helping run the stable.

It isn’t until he throws out the idea of patrolling that Tommy even considers it—it wasn’t something he liked to offer up unless people showed interest.

And even then, it was an adjustment.

A mix of both trust and skill—constant awareness, a willingness to communicate, and the ability to brave whatever challenge or elements you’d face outside the fortified walls of Jackson.

So, that’s where you were.

Eddie has tagged along for your patrol with Joel.

It was two days and one night in the small cabin out west. It wasn’t far from Jackson, either. In fact, it was one of the easier patrols and Joel could easily doze off at his post while you kept yourself busy.

It was easy, calm.

“Is this all you do?” Eddie asks curiously, tearing into his bag of jerky like a rabid dog, the dried meat cracking under the pressure of his teeth, “Just sit?”

It wasn’t the first question he’s asked, nor the last.

It started with him asking if Joel and Tommy were real brothers before divulging into several questions about life before the infection spread—all mundane and simple, but you have learned so much about Joel in the few years you’ve lived in Jackson.

When he was tired or irritated, happy, when he needed you without the courage to ask, but more importantly—

You could tell when he was annoyed.

You glance over your shoulder and catch the shifty gaze he gives you, biting his tongue for a moment before he nods you over, sitting at the kitchen table whittling away on a chunk of wood to keep himself busy.

Both physically and mentally.

“Shit is a killer,” Eddie adds, “—might have to bring my guitar with me from now on, play some tunes or—“

His voice is drowned out by Joel as he speaks without looking at you, playing your actions off as you were searching through your pack.

“Shut him up,” Joel demands, “now,”

“He’s excited,” You shrug, watching as Eddie stood to explore the cabin, tapping on some old, withering blinds that fell to the floor in an instant, his gaze shooting up at you both and looking immediately sheepish.

“He’s interrupting,” Joel corrects, his head tilting up slightly to look at you as you smirk, biting down on your lip to stifle the laugh in your throat.

Joel was greedy and never shy about it, not with you.

Eddie brings the broken set of blinds over and places it on the table with a smile before pulling the chair back with a loud, ear grating screech against the hardwood and taking a seat with a loud thump.

“Oh, shit—that’s cool,” Eddie notes, pointing lazily at Joel and the soon-to-be figurine tucked away in his meaty palm, met with an eyebrow raise and a quiet noise of acknowledgement before both of their eyes shift to you.

It was similar in intensity, both with entirely different meanings. Joel had you, for months now. One small incident of a shared bed had helped something blossom between each other, though largely unaddressed.

He liked having you around, you liked being around, even if that only meant patrols and the occasional nights Joel would drag you up to his room and have his way.

You don’t question it and neither does he, but Joel was mostly undisturbed until Eddie came along, that all too familiar twinkle in his eye that he caught from many of the younger men around Jackson.

You were like a new toy; fresh and ready to be played with. Although Eddie seemed harmless, he posed a challenge for Joel. Not only because of his growing obsession with you, but because he was a nuisance.

“So, princess,” His feet slam against the table as his boots shake the surface, “what’d you do to keep busy?”

Joel chuckles quietly, a subtle noise that Eddie doesn’t seem to catch, unfortunately you do.

Him. Joel.

Joel keeps you busy. Whether with your mouth or his own.

“Uh, sleep,” You answer lamely, “or nothin’—s’kinda nice to sit with your own thoughts sometimes with how busy Jackson is lately. It’s quiet out here.”

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Joel retorts.

Eddie chuckles unknowingly, “What’s that mean?”

His eyes shift toward you as you shove your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and walk around the table and near him, his fingers dragging along the leather of the jacket he had claimed while sifting through the newest delivery of clothes that had been found during a search.

It was almost identical to his own, save a few tears in the fabric.

“Looks amazing,” Eddie comments, a smile spreading across your face almost instinctively, your heart fluttering with the way his fingers trail against the inside of your palm as he loosely holds your hand, “knew it would.”

Joel watches the exchange with a newfound curiosity.

He’s never been possessive, but seeing you interact with Eddie ignites a strange feeling within him, shifting slightly in his chair to break the moment apart.

“Go on, kid—it’s your turn,” He nods toward Eddie who seems eager to get his first chance at rounding the area, grabbing the shotgun off the table and trampling out the door without question.

As the door shuts, Joel places the items in his hands on the table and scoots back, standing from his chair as quietly walks the expanse of the table before he reaches you, rubbing a finger along the tacky leather of your jacket.

“Princess,” He begins mockingly, “a real charmer, ain’t he?”

You scoff at his tone and push his hand away, quickly met with resistance as his hands cup your face and maneuvers you back against the dining table, clumsily landing against the surface as Joel’s tongue spears between your lips and into your mouth, swallowing up the gasp of surprise that slips out.

“Are - are you jealous?” You ask through the smothering, wet exchanges of tongue and teeth, spreading your hands out over his broad shoulders before they’re pushing him back, begging for a break.

“Kid follows you around like a stray,” He tells you, “he’s waiting for a treat—but I think you know that.”

“And if—“ A gentle kiss to the neck, slowly pushing the jacket off your shoulder, “if I do?”

“Careful,” Joel warns, his fingers pushing your shirt off your shoulders before your hands wrap around his thick fingers, pushing him away gently.

“Last I checked, I don’t belong to anyone,” You retorted.

And you’re right—Joel would never force that on you.

You were allowed to have whatever you wanted. Even if it extended beyond him, but for Joel, you were it for him.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to admit it, but internally, he’s known it for a while.

“I know a way to keep him quiet,” You begin, tugging weakly at Joel’s belt, still fastened in place and mostly to tease him, his hands spreading out flat against the table to steady himself, “but you aren’t gonna like it.”

Joel could stake his claim now, forbid it.

But, he doesn’t.

There’s a brief glimpse of intrigue that crosses Joel’s features and you catch it, a smile growing on your face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t sneak off,” You assure him, “I know you like to watch.”

Joel’s skin flushes hot at your words, cock swelling behind the layers of fabric that kept him confined.

He’s watched you countless times, under his instructions as you play with yourself, fingers sliding through a slick mess of your own doing, occasionally a mix of his own.

“The kid can barely look at me,” Joel counters, “ya think he’s really gonna do anything with me in the room?”

“I think you severely underestimate me,” You challenge him, “and I really don’t appreciate that,”

“Go on then,” Joel taunts, “that shithead ain’t better than me, we’ll see how well it goes for ya before I have to step in.”

Challenge accepted.

—

When Eddie returns, Joel takes his place.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Eddie asks randomly as he strips off his own jacket and unties the plaid button down from his waist, leaving him in a thin shirt and ripped jeans, toeing off his boots before he collapses into the couch, spreading his legs as one hikes over the back and his hands fall against his stomach.

“Joel is hard to get along with,” You admit.

“You seem to be doing fine,”

“It takes time,” Among other things.

Stripped down to a similar few layers, you fit between his legs as you sit on your knees, elbow propped against the back of the couch as your fist meets your chin.

“I do like the jacket,” You assure him, watching him fiddle absentmindedly with one of his rings as he smiles at you, the lines near his cheek deepening.

“Yeah?” Eddie perks up with a surge of confidence.

“Don’t let him get to you,” You nod vaguely toward the front door, “he’s just jealous.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at that, silently begging you to elaborate.

Quietly, you scoot closer and trade his fidgeting hands for your own, playing with his rings.

“He hates the way you look at me,” You admit, spotting the brief recognition across his features before his eyes slowly darken, rising on his elbows as your hand slowly reaches for his shirt, hand sliding out flat against his stomach, “or how I let you touch me.”

“But, we’ve never…”

“I know,” You nod in agreement, “doesn’t mean I don’t want to—I do, I was just…waiting for you to ask.”

The air shifts with your words, watching him slowly raise to his palms as you lean forward, bodies only a few inches away as you climb into his lap, lips brushing against each other briefly.

“M’not—I’ve never—“

“Kissed anyone?”

It was endearing, in a way.

“No, no—‘course I have. Just, never really done much else. I’ve gone down a few times, sucked a couple cocks, but…”

Oh.

”I really shouldn’t be corrupting you on your first patrol,”

Eddie chuckles against your lips, feeling the subtle brush as your hips shift against him, his neck straining as he chases your mouth.

“Fuck it,” Eddie answers flippantly, “Joel’s got it.”

You nod in agreement with a mirrored shrug before Eddie’s kissing you with a sudden eagerness, surprisingly more rough than you’re expecting as his teeth dig into your bottom lip.

He’s smothering in the best way, hands splayed at your hips before they get curious, squeezing at your thighs, legs, finding their way underneath the material of your shirt as his fingers squeeze against the base of your spine. Exploring your mouth curiously until you’re both panting against each other more than kissing, his face squished against your cheek as you rut into him.

“We should move right?” Eddie suggests, “He’s coming back soon.”

“Who cares,” You shrug, leaning back just enough to strip your shirt off and pop the button of your jeans, “besides—maybe he’ll take up my shift for me, you know, if he sees us.”

He wouldn’t, but you still provide reassurance.

And Eddie looks somehow even more adoring as he slips the makeshift hair tie from your wrist and pulls back his own hair, unruly curls and overgrown length, desperately due for a trim.

“Just in case we get messy,” He tells you, watching as you pushed back to strip your jeans off, laying back on the couch before he’s moving between your legs and pulling your pants off the rest of the way, his right hand reaching down the center of his back to yank at his own shirt, discarding it along with the growing pile of clothes.

“I’m counting on it,” You retort, fingers pushing through the front of his hair just before the hastily tied bun as you bring him down slowly, his fingers twisting around the band at your hips, his nose nuzzling into your cunt as he breathes you in, eyelashes fanning over his rosy cheeks.

It’s fresh soap and lavender oils, homegrown and made within the walls of Jackson—he’s become used to the smell. It was like home now, making do with what he had.

He smells of it too with a faint musk of sweat from the spring humidity, silently maneuvering your panties down and off your ankle, tossing them to the floor.

“May I, my lady?” Eddie asks with a smirk, his hot breath fanning over you cunt as you nod frantically, feeling your pussy clench at how close he was, begging for his mouth.

“Oh, please,” You feign distress, a short-lived giggle transforming into a surprised gasp as his tongue spreads through your folds, wide and spearing into you with little hesitation or fumbling hands, surprisingly sure of himself.

Your fingers tighten in Eddie's hair as his tongue explores the divine split between your legs, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. He laps at your clit with focused intensity, a strange sight as his eyes are closed and his hands tighten around your thighs, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint flicks of his tongue that make your legs shake.

“Eddie,” You sigh, feeling two fingers breach your hole, pushing inside of you with ease as the dual sensation of his fingers and tongue blind you to everything, back arching from the couch slightly as he hums against your pussy, acknowledging your call, “fuck—oh, god—I’m gonna—”

His eagerness grows with your words, shaking his face slightly into your cunt as his nose grazes your clit, the already sensitive nub soaking up the attention as your walls squeeze around his fingers, dexterous and rubbing deep inside of you, curling at just the right angle.

“I gotcha, princess,” He assures you, moving away for a brief moment to kiss at the spot where your thigh meets your cunt, grunting at how tight you’re gripping the chuck of his hair twisted in your fist, “if you could see her—” His fingers pulling out as he collects the sweet slick, fingers slowly sliding down your pussy and up before he’s bringing the fingers to his mouth, three fit between his lips, “shoulda known you’d make a mess.”

You can only laugh, a broken sigh as he continues his relentless rubbing of your clit, watching as your hole fluttered around absolutely nothing now, missing his tongue and his fingers, both of you so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear the front door creak open until Joel’s boots are stomping past and Eddie’s first reaction is to pull back, your eyes peeking open to stare down a suppressing satisfaction on Joel’s face as your orgasm whisked away from you.

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the scene before him - you splayed out on the couch, legs spread wide, and Eddie between them with slick coating his lips and chin. For a moment, tension crackles in the air as Joel's gaze flicks between you and Eddie, before decidedly landing on you.

Then a slow smirk spreads across Joel's face. "Don't stop on my account," he drawls, leaning casually against the back of the couch with his palms curling over the edge, just within reach. "Looks like you two were havin' quite a time without me."

Eddie hesitates, his hands still gripping your thighs.

"Go on, boy," Joel encourages, his voice low and rough. "Finish what you started."

With a grunt, Eddie dives back in, redoubling his efforts. His tongue swirls around your clit as two fingers plunge inside you once more. You cry out, hips bucking against his face.

Joel moves closer, almost taunting. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Let us hear those pretty sounds."

You gasp at the intensity of Eddie’s tongue, his fingers slipping out to flatten against your chest, stilling your insistent squirming as you grab his hand out of desperation, a need for an anchor.

Your eyes flutter closed, pressure building as the heat in your belly swirled, feeling a hand fist into your scalp similarly to how you had Eddie, but it was Joel, forcing your eyes open with the tinge of pain it brought as he glances down at Eddie who’s also got his eyes on you, obediently silent despite his current course of action.

Your own eyes are pleading, speaking to Joel silently.

Look, I did what you asked. Praise me.

Eddie doesn’t question it, the dutiful boy he was.

But, he’s also…sensed things for a while.

Pining away at a person who would never truly be his own, already claimed.

Though, maybe he was wrong.

Joel’s eyes on him, Eddie’s on you—Joel was always watching, careful to keep the young pup in line, but he can’t help admiring your face, a mix of anguish and pleasure as you stared up at Joel.

“Come for us, darlin’,” Joel demands, Eddie’s lips sucking at your clit with his pointed words.

You come with a broken sob, an intense wave of ecstasy washing over as Eddie works you masterfully through your orgasm. Joel's approving growl mingles with your cries of pleasure, working silently at his belt as you work through your frantic breathing, patting Eddie’s head gently at his squeezes comfortingly at your thighs.

He’s working up the courage to say something, anything, but you rise to meet him where he is at his knees, “It’s okay,” You assure him, “Joel’s all show, anyways.”

Not true, but you both share a short laugh.

“He likes to watch,” You admit to Eddie, “don’t you, Joel?”

“S’long as my girl is satisfied,” Joel shrugs, a creeping smirk on his face that always meant he was up to no good, “you satisfied, sweetheart?”

To an extent, sure. But, as Joel strips the leather from the loops in his jeans, he’s almost taunting the idea at you and Eddie who isn’t shy about his strange attraction to the energy you both emit, rubbing his palm over the front of his tight jeans, swallowing audibly.

“Depends,” You counter, reaching forward while your eyes are locked on Joel, matching Eddie’s hand as you squeeze over the sizable bulge in his jeans, “Eddie, you need Joel to show you the ropes?”

You turn to Eddie then, eyes bright and excited but tentative to his response.

“Uh, ya—yeah,” He agrees, “fuck yeah.”

–

Joel has never been shy, but is quiet about his confidence.

The difference between he and Eddie was stark and obvious, but he could see the kid was genuine. Young, unjaded, still full of life—he knows you’re better suited for Eddie.

But, Joel is also selfish when it comes to you; he could share, within reason.

If you wanted it.

He’s lucky these faded, old couches sit so low otherwise his knees would be punishing him for it.

Eddie’s waiting in the wings, oddly attentive despite the strange dynamic as Joel removes his cock from the confines of his jeans and underwear, lengthy but dominating Eddie in girth without a challenge and he can’t help but look at you, eyes half-lidded and simmering with the remnants of your last orgasm as Joel swiped the head of his cock through your folds, a content hum slipping past your lips.

Joel instinctively spits on your pussy, a sensual action that feels wholly intimate.

It makes Eddie’s mouth water with how pretty you sound, how eager he is to have you make those sounds for him too.

“He wants more,” You note, talking to Joel but your hand reaches for Eddie and spreads out over his thigh, “should I let him fuck me instead?”

“He can’t do it like I do,” Joel smirks and presses the head of his cock inside of you to prove a point, savoring the delicious stretch of him as he pushes his hips forward, nails scratching against the denim of Eddie’s jeans with the motion, your walls squeezing around Joel’s shaft, “she always remembers me, don’ she?”

You gasp with a nod, arching your back as Joel fills you completely. Your hand tightens on Eddie's thigh, and you turn to look at him and instantly see the hunger in his eyes. Joel's hands grip your hips and he starts to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each thrust sends finite sparks of pleasure through your body, helpless to the small moans that escape your lips.

Eddie leans in slightly, mesmerized by your twisted expression of obvious pleasure but also at how Joel’s cock sinks into your cunt with the powerful thrusts as he kneels over your, sinking into the old cushion as your knees hang lazily at his hips, feeling the distant touch of Eddie’s fingers around your ankle, a constant reminder of his presence.

His own erection strains against his jeans, and he shifts uncomfortably, desperate for some relief. Joel isn’t ignoring him either, his hand coming up behind your neck to arch your chin up, exposing your chest to both of the men.

“You want a turn, kid?” Joel grunts, menacingly teasing. He never breaks his rhythm, crows feet deepening around his eyes as his face scrunches up in pleasure, before Eddie can answer Joel speaks again, “gotta earn it—show ‘er some attention.”

Eddie doesn't hesitate. His hands are on you in an instant, cupping your breasts and squeezing. The added stimulation makes you cry out, your body trembling between the two men.

“There ya go,” Joel encourages, “feels good, don’t it?”

You only realize a second too late that he’s talking to you and not Eddie, a sharp slap to your ass as you nod weakly, “Mhm, so good,” You answer softly, earning a chuckle from Joel.

“Forget how cock drunk she gets,” Joel speaks to Eddie who’s as equally mesmerized as Joel.

Joel quickly picks up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, the deafening sound of skin slapping against skin drowning out your moans and Joel’s grunts.

“Tell ‘em, darlin’,” Joel demands, “tell Eddie how good I fuck you.”

Your fingers travel higher, curling around his belt as you pull him forward until his knee is pressing into your rib cage, “It’s per—perfect,” You sigh brokenly, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes that deep spot inside of you that makes your toes curl,

“C’mere and pay attention, ” Joel orders with a growl, nodding his head in a matching motion, “She likes it slow at first, real deep. She’s greedy. You gotta build her up - nice, slow, until she’s beggin’ for it. And trust me, she will.”

Eddie nods dumbly, fingers rising to scratch at his chest as Joel’s thrusts falter, his groans growing longer and deeper, legs shaking with his own impending orgasm.

“Touch me,” You beg up at Eddie, who’s still dumbfounded with his hand on your breast but his eyebrows quirks in question before you’re shaking your head subtly, guiding his hand down to the point where you and Joel are joined, brushing his fingertips over your clit as you nod.

Eddie's fingers circle your sensitive bud hesitant at first, then with more confidence as your breathy moans encourage him. The dual sensations of Joel's thick cock pounding into you and Eddie's skilled fingers on your clit quickly push you to the edge again, gushing over Joel’s cock as his hips falter to a stop and the surge of his orgasm forces a groan from deep within his chest, filling you to the brim with his warm seed.

“That’s it,” Joel coos, “show Eddie how pretty you look when you come apart on my cock.”

Your orgasm crests as Eddie watches in awe, his fingers continuing their motion over your clit until your hips shake with overstimulation, sobbing weakly as you reach over your head to grip at the couch with the hand that isn’t pinching Eddie’s skin at his waist.

For a moment, there’s silence. Only a mix of your and Joel’s heavy breathing and Eddie’s occasional pant, eyes blown wide with pleasure as Joel stands with a grunt and pulls his jeans and underwear back on, hastily buttoning them before he’s nodding at you.

“Go on,” He says gruffly, “your turn.”

The ache in your cunt is devastating but Joel watches with admiration as the opaque liquid pushes out of your hole as you cunt spasms and you can sense a brief moment of hesitation from Eddie before you finally look at him, a silent moment of understanding.

“Do you want to?” You ask curiously, head rolling to the side as you glance up at him.

“Do I—huh, you’re kidding, right?” Eddie asks with a tone of incredulous disbelief. “Uh, yeah—fuckin’ yeah. I want to.”

You giggle softly, “I’m just checking,” You assure, “I don’t want to pressure you too much.”

Eddie’s eyes darken with desire but still, somehow, maintain his softness.

“There’s no pressure,” He assured, “but if—if you don’t mind I’ve got a couple ideas of my own.”

Oh?

You squeal softly at how Eddie manhandles you into his position of choice, ass held up by his steel grip as your head sinks into the lap of Joel who’s decidedly taken a seat as your head lulls to the side, peering up at him with a playful expression.

He smells like sex and outdoors, a hint of cleanliness from his washed clothes but it was intoxicating, mesmerizing, feeling the ringed hand of Eddie slide up your spine once he’s stripped himself of his remaining clothes without hesitation.

You reach down between your legs to guide him, gasping softly as the head of his cock nudges against your sensitive, swollen folds. Eddie groans at the sensation, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Easy,” Joel says instinctively, his eyes stuck on you as he brushes your mused hair away from your face, “remember—slow, she’ll let you know what she wants.”

Eddie nods as he eases inside of you, aided by the prior stretch of Joel, but his length is astounding, nudging deep against your walls before he’s even fully sheathed. His thrusts are fumbling at first, hearing the deep breaths he takes as he adjusts to the intense feeling around his cock, astounded that it has taken him this long to achieve such a thing.

He really shouldn’t beat himself up over, given the end of the world and all, but he can’t believe he’s been missing out on this for so long.

Eventually he finds a steady rhythm that has you gasping with every thrust, fingers crawling up Joel’s bare chest until you reach his face, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you moan into the denim, drooling over the fabric.

“That’s it,” Joel encourages and Eddie’s eyes are stuck on you, forcing himself to commit the moment to memory, watching how greedily your cunt sucks his cock in, squeezing at the flesh of your ass as he moans pathetically, the sound making your pussy flutter.

And Joel knows he’s still being as equally selfish as earlier, your attention locked on him despite Eddie’s affect on you and there’s tinge of jealousy that strikes Eddie as he watches the exchange, your moans building in intensity before he’s less than carefully maneuvering you upright, towering over you like this with how you sunk into the cushion, his hand traveling up the front of your chest until his fingers squeeze around your neck and tilt your head back until you’re looking directly up at him, pupils blown wide.

You were his in this moment, not Joel’s.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie tells you, lips parting without argument as his thumb drags over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down as your tongue peeks out to lick at his finger with a soft giggle he matches with a toothy grin before he’s accumulating the saliva in his mouth and puckering his lips to spit into your waiting mouth, a long string stretching as it hits your tongue, moaning audibly as you swallow, sealed with a devastating wink from Eddie.

He was giving Joel a run for his money, that much was obvious.

Joel's eyes narrow at the display, a mix of arousal and possessiveness flaring in his chest.

He won't be outdone that easily.

With a low growl, he moves to his knees, sandwiching you between the two men as his fingers drift over your clit similar to how Eddie’s had earlier, “Speak up, sweetheart,” He bites, “is he treating you right?”

You nod eagerly, “Faster,” You beg to Eddie, a hand creeping around the back of his neck to fist into his hair that was wild and falling from the tie on his head, an attentive listener as his pace picks up instantly, “fuck—yes, like that!”

Eddie smirks at Joel over your shoulder, clearly enjoying the competition now.

Eddie tightens his grip on your throat slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your body is on fire, caught between the two men and helpless to their greed, seconds away from devouring you whole if you allow it.

Joel’s fingers work your clit in tight circles as he leans into you, nearly chest to chest as his hot breath brushes your ear, “Still ain’t better than me,” He teases, “but he’s got the spirit.”

The gentle brush of his beard and his lips sucking at your neck could make you pass out if you let it and your body trembles, caught between the two men vying for your attention.

Eddie's thrusts grow more erratic as he watches Joel mark your neck beside his fingers, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head swim.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess," Eddie groans, his free hand snaking around your stomach, wrapped up in both the men and helpless, "Gonna make you come on my cock while he watches, alright?"

“Uh huh,” You respond airily, a stuttering gasp escaping your lips as Joel’s pace quickens against your clit and matches Eddie’s enthusiastic thrusts, his own moans growing in intensity as his head dips, breathing against the base of your neck as your hand in his hair twists and the other grasps desperately for Joel’s naked shoulder.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Joel purrs decidedly, “Let go for us.”

“I can feel it, princess—s’right there,” Eddie encourages.

Your third orgasm hits you quick, vision whiting out as you clench around Eddie's length. He follows soon after with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he spills inside you.

The room fills with heavy breathing as you and Eddie come down from your shared high, his grip on your throat loosens, hand sliding down to rest on your collarbone. Joel's fingers slow their movements, drawing out the last tremors of your waning orgasm.

The thought dawns on you as the room stills.

You’re fucking exhausted.

A laugh bubbles from your throat unexpectedly.

“There’s our girl,” Joel chuckles, “ya still with us?”

You nod slowly as Eddie gently maneuvers away from you, the air catching in his throat as he watches this mix of his and Joel’s cum dripping from your cunt, clearing his throat as he hides the smirk on his face. There was a brief look he shares with Joel before Joel’s hand is smoothing over your back, his other hand explorative as he touches between your legs.

“What a goddamn mess,” He notes fondly, swiping up the slick on his fingers before he brings it to your mouth, wordlessly you take the fingers in your mouth and suck, “tell you what—you go on and shower, clean up—the kid and I’ll cover your turn.”

You do have other ideas, but you can sense Joel’s hesitance.

Eddie is a good distance away now, face still flushed as he digs through his bag.

“I thought you couldn’t stand to be alone with him?”

“I’ll put up with it,” Joel admits, “seein’ how much you like him and all.”

“You sure I can’t get you both to join me in the shower?”

Joel hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

“Careful, darlin’—don’t push it,” He warns.

“Do you need any help?” Eddie perks up eventually, a relaxed smile on his face as he grips the fabric of his shirt in his hands.

You shake your head and smile at the subtle rejected puppy dog eyes that flash your way.

“I think you and Joel have a lot to talk about, fortunately.”

And boy, did they ever.

#joel miller #eddie munson #pedro pascal #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #eddie munson smut #joel miller x you #eddie munson x you #the last of us #stranger things #joseph quinn fic #eddie munson fic #joel miller fic #my writing

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vampireimiko · 2 months ago

Text

Mark Grayson (with a Overpowered reader) Headcanons !!

warnings, none 🤝

note, i had a request pertaining to katara so since avatar is fresh on my mind, why not make reader in this fic have avatar powers 🤭

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Being able to control a element or two was something Mark had seen before. But you being able to control all 4 elements and all it's subs, damn near made his jaw come clean off.

"So your telling me, you could just...whoosh out all the air in my lungs right now?" He asked curiously, head tilted to the side.

"Indeed I can Mark."

"Remind me to never piss you off!"

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Everytime you demonstrate your powers and your techniques to him, he's actually so astonished 😋, His reactions range from wide-eyed amazement to excited shouting. “Babe. BABE. You just melted a boulder. Do you know how insane that is?!"

He will 100% take you to new places just to see how your bending interacts with different environments. “What happens if you try bending in space? Do you think you could bend stardust? Wait, what about lava—oh wait, you can do that.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Although he loves your powers and what they can do, it doesn't stop him from getting a bit jealous when you can fly faster than him since your quite literally controlling the wind.

“Okay, so technically I should be faster, but you’re kinda cheating.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He constantly asks if you can teach him even a little bending. You humor him, thinking that with how fast he can go, he should atleast be able to make a ball of wind at least. But watching him try (and fail) to copy your movements is too funny. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t meant for the elements. But I felt cool for a second.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Mark loves being able to relax with you, whether its sitting in silence under the shade or just simply cuddling with you while he holds you close to his chest.

He absolutely loves when you use your firebending to warm him up on cold nights. If you two are cuddling and he feels a little chilly, he’ll nuzzle closer and mumble, “Mmm… personal heater privileges.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Sometimes, after a long day, you’ll both just float in the air, him hovering, you gliding with airbending. No words, just enjoying the moment together. It’s his favorite kind of peace :3.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You still get flustered from time to time when he kisses you. Literal sparks will come from you sometimes if Mark is able to catch you off guard with a kiss.

"Mark stop sneaking up on me like that!" You'd giggle with your hands covering up your smiling face.

Now, he makes it his mission to surprise you with kisses just to see your bending react. “Okay, but what if I—” cue him suddenly dipping you and kissing you midair (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

additional note ! after posting for tn im gonna go watch the new ep 🙂‍↕️

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

#spirits works 🤍#x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #gn reader #black!reader #fem!reader #male!reader

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mercurial-chuckles · 2 months ago

Note

is smutober still open? if yes can i ask for stucky x f!reader + 17. "seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place"? i thought maybe steve or bucky seeing the marks the other left on reader? or even better, steve or buck seeing the marks reader left on them. anyway, up to you, i love all of your stucky works, you make their relationship feel so real and i love how you don't focus solely on the boys with reader but on bucky and steve and their love for each other as well.

Wanton Affairs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Overloaded Fluff Galore | Domestic Supersoldiers | Poly relation | Language | THE SMUT galore | Threesome | Fingering | Littleshit supersoldiers on the loose | Irresistible Bucky | One torn bra | Supersoldier Sandwich | Soft!dom Steve | Soft!dom Bucky | ~6k of fluffy n filthy goodness | I've broken the fic into three parts with breaks if you wish to stop and continue later | Unedited. If you find any errors (you will), please kindly ignore them for the moment. I typed as I went. I'm too disoriented to edit, but I will as soon as I can | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: My first threesome. I mean, first time writing a threesome. I'm already whimpering in dread. So, be gentle with me. Treat me tenderly, and some validation would really ease me. Thank you for sending in the ask for SMUT-BER FEST. My apologies for how--embarrassingly--long it's taken to get to your ask. I hope you enjoy reading it, my sweet anon! And thank you for your kind words. This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Napping | @stuckybingo Most importantly, I've added a small dialogue prompt inspired by Trick or Treat wheel of potential doom. @yenzys-lucky-charm I'm sorry this thought has been marinating in my head for so long, love. I'm way past the due date, and this isn't technically my submission. Since you mentioned how excited you were about this prompt, and now that I've FINALLY gotten inspired, I wanted to tag you. Please feel free to ignore it if any elements of this fic aren't your forte ✨ Hope I did it justice 🩷 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Bucky gets what he wants, even if it means seducing fighting an annoyed Steve Rogers

Bucky, as per Steve's entirely unqualified yet riveting diagnosis, was a little shit with a severe case of cuteness aggression.

Why, you ask?

Well, it was 2 p.m., and Bucky had just returned home from the compound. And when he walked in and saw you peacefully napping, he absolutely couldn't resist his joy.

Despite Steve's firm warning that you needed rest after pulling an all-nighter, Bucky just couldn't help himself. He'd missed you terribly all day--too many hours apart.

So, like the true, needy mess that he was, he decided to be obnoxiously loud, hoping you'd stir awake, give him a warm smile that would relax him in no seconds, and let him curl up next to you.

Those were the hopes of the brunette man.

But his other love--the too-practical, too-Captainy--was already dousing his plans in cold water.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't understand the importance of your sleep--he did. He knew you'd been putting in extra hours, working on the analysis of some foil, and you hardly slept the last few days and that you didn't sleep at all last night.

Stupid Project!

But you, in all your serene, angelic glory, just looked so irresistible lying there.

Not to be too dramatic but he was desperate and downright itching for you to hold him.

Last night had been miserable. He'd tossed and turned all night, and with Steve holed up at the compound, there was no one to hold him while he slept. Which, of course, meant sleep was out of the question. Steve had tried convincing him to come over, mumbling something about hologram testing and training updates--like that was supposed to be enticing.

A bunch of lies, if you asked Bucky.

Steve was a really needy puppy. The man could hardly stand being away from you for too long without either of them keeping watch. And sure, the offer had been tempting, but Bucky had backed off, figuring he'd crash on the couch with some trash TV instead. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Tony along with his sizable ego and the others when he was in a mood. Not that he disliked any of them--he just wasn't in the headspace for socializing. So, he let Steve play the responsible Captain at the Compound while you worked and he decided to stay back and suffer in peace.

In the early hours that morning, he went to his scheduled training session, running on barely any sleep. You had texted saying you'd be home in the evening, but when he saw you both back earlier than expected, he just couldn't resist, could he?

Thus, he proceeded with his noisy campaign to wake you up, much to Steve's horror.

"Bucky," Steve hissed from across the room as Bucky slammed the bathroom door.

"Stop that," he warned, half-amused by the exaggeratedly loud noises Bucky had been making since the moment he arrived home. Steve's enhanced hearing only made it worse, amplifying the noise tenfold. But Bucky had the same enhanced hearing, and Steve knew how stealthy his lover could be. That meant Bucky was intentionally making a racket to wake you up--and that annoyed Steve.

"Stop what?" Bucky huffed, raising an eyebrow as he marched toward Steve, intentionally stomping every step.

Though it had plenty of closet space, the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom was far too small for the two of them. Steve had dimmed the lights to avoid disturbing you and even drew the curtains in the bedroom to block out the intense afternoon light pouring through the windows.

"Shh... she's sleeping," Steve shushed, flinging a shirt he was folding toward Bucky in an attempt to get him to stop. But Bucky caught it mid-air, tossed it back into the laundry bin with a grin, and, without missing a beat, yanked Steve toward him by the collar of his undershirt.

Bucky cradled Steve's jaw with an exaggerated air of seriousness, murmuring lowly, "Ya know, I just saw a picture of a grumpy cat online that looked exactly like you."

Bucky's grin widened.

Steve's frown deepened, and the playful glint in Bucky's eyes only intensified.

Rolling his eyes, Steve swatted Bucky's hands away from his cheeks and snorted in amusement. "You sure it wasn't you?" he deadpanned, picking up clothes one by one and sorting them into fold piles and hangers.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Steve by the neck, his lips nearly grazing Steve's.

Poor Stevie couldn't resist now, could he? Because Bucky looked irresistibly handsome, and he was a weak man when it came to Bucky or you.

Steve felt his resolve slip, and before he knew it, his lips were gravitating toward Bucky's as Bucky leaned in for a soft, teasing kiss. A low moan escaped Steve, and before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing but a rush of warmth and utter annoyance.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, irritated by the half-assed kiss and desperate for more.

Bucky's grin widened wickedly. "What? Do you need me, punk? All you gotta do is ask," he teased, "Nicely," he added, his voice thick with amusement, before leaning in again--this time intently, pushing Steve against the tiny space of empty wall beside the door. Their lips collided, groaning at the taste, deepening the kiss as they moved closer, instinctively pulling each other tighter. The arousing kiss continued, building and building until…

The unmistakable tear was heard.

Both of them exchanged a look.

"Oh, shit!" Bucky laughed, pulling away just enough to look down.

Steve followed Bucky's gaze and froze, his face going pale. There, in Steve's hand, were the torn remains of your favorite bra. It was a cute piece, too, with little dinosaurs and cacti prints. You looked adorable wearing it.

"Son of a bitch, that's her comfy one," Steve muttered in exasperation, turning it in his large hands to see if it was remotely salvageable, but the fabric was in tatters.

"Eh…" Bucky hummed, plucking the fabric from Steve's hands, and inspected the shredded piece with little sympathy, "I hate these traps," he muttered.

"Nope, gotta say goodbye," Bucky sniggered, putting the ripped fabric back into Steve's hands. Steve groaned in defeat.

Bucky patted him on the shoulder with exaggerated pity, and taking advantage of Steve's guilty reminiscence, he slipped out of the closet and into the bedroom, leaving Steve standing there, still processing the carnage.

Bucky plopped himself on the bed with zero resistance from Steve whatsoever. He quickly discarded his joggers, cursing himself for deciding to put them on after the shower. He threw them, aiming for the chair, but Steve caught them mid-air, a frown returning to his face.

Bucky's smile widened at the sound of Steve's angry grunts, whispered under his breath. Ignoring all of Steve's warnings, Bucky turned his focus entirely to you, snuggling comfortably beside you, and wondering how best to announce his arrival.

Steve seemed to read his thoughts because he snapped, nearly shouting, "James, get your ass over here and fold the laundry with me if you're so bored!"

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not bored, Steven. I'm sleepy," he declared, finger traced gently down your cheek, and you made a soft noise in your sleep.

Steve's patience ebbed away all at once. He cast one last look at your peaceful, slumbering form, Steve had just managed to help you fall asleep, and he wasn't about to let Bucky mess it all up.

With a determined stride, Steve marched over, grabbed Bucky by the waist, and hauled him off the bed without warning. Bucky let out a surprised laugh, but Steve anticipated the noise, quickly pressing his hand to Bucky's mouth to silence him as he began marching him out of the room.

"What the hell?" Bucky grumbled, his brain catching up.

Steve only made it two steps into the living room before Bucky, like a reflex, tackled him to the ground with a booming laugh.

"You're really not listening. Let her sleep," Steve hissed, his voice strained from holding back his irritation and laughter.

"I wasn't doing anything," Bucky guffawed, straddling Steve and pinning him to the floor.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Bucky, now the one in control, held both of Steve's wrists to his chest, completely enjoying the struggle.

"GET UP!" Steve grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but the amused smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"Is that all ya got?" Bucky mocked, raising an eyebrow. "For a man who pulled a helicopter…" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Bad, Stevie. You gotta replenish your big boy energy."

Bucky placed a teasing kiss on Steve's jaw, his breath warm against Steve's skin. "I think you need a nap, too," he whispered.

Steve narrowed his eyes, and as the smug grin on Bucky's face fully registered in his mind, "You look quite energized Buck, and you definitely don't need a nap," Steve remarked flippantly.

Bucky's grin faltered, but only for a second. He kept Steve pinned with his metal arm, his face now just inches from Steve's as he leaned in closer. With a soft chuckle, Bucky pushed off Steve, sliding away from him smoothly and practically leaping off the floor and onto the bed in two long strides, knowing fully well that Steve wouldn't repeat the same mistake of hauling him off the bed a second time.

Bucky mentally counted to five, and sure enough, Steve appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his adorably stupid face.

Steve walked in fully intending to get the rest of the laundry done, however, he glanced at the bed, eyes greedily taking in Bucky's overtly happy and awfully comfortable expression snuggling beside you, and Steve sighed, conceding defeat. With a roll of his eyes, he finally walked over to the bed and carefully settled on the other side.

"You're folding the laundry later," Steve mouthed to Bucky, his voice just above a whisper. He then carefully slid his right arm around your waist, almost instinctively, and settled it over Bucky's side of the bed.

Bucky chuckled proudly, satisfied with himself. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly slipping your hand from beneath your pillow, gently resting it on his own. Your familiar scent filled the space between them, soothing Bucky like the pleasant sound of rain.

Steve peeked at Bucky, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he felt your feet worm their way between his legs. Bucky's right arm found Steve's on top of your pillow, and without a second's delay, Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"Such a punk," Steve murmured, squeezing Bucky's hand affectionately.

Bucky snorted. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the soothing calmness of both you and Steve.

"And no funny business," Steve added softly, his voice almost teasing as he kissed the top of your head, his breath warm on your skin. Bucky smiled to himself, too content to bite back with a reply.

The absolute nerve of Steve to question Bucky's purer, entirely innocent intentions of cuddling and falling asleep peacefully.

****

Steve is sometimes ALWAYS right

Still groggy and barely awake, you blinked open your eyes--only to be met with two bright blue ones and a wide grin. It scared the shit out of you, and you let out an ungraceful squeak.

"Fuck you, Bucky," you mumbled in surprise, but your cry was quickly muffled by his cold metal palm as he hushed you.

You blinked a few more times, adjusting to your surroundings, finally registering the cozy, familiar position you were wrapped in. The warmth of Steve behind you, his face pressed into your shoulder blade, his nose tickling your skin as the unmistakable sound of his snoring reverberated through your back.

"Stevie's snoring? Aww." You cooed, a sleepy, contented pout pulling at your lips. Bucky grinned beside you, nodding.

It was rare for either of them to snore--what with the serum taking most of the brunt of their bodies--but once in a while, exhaustion got the better of them.

"I recorded it, too," Bucky told you proudly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You sighed happily, licking your lips--his kiss felt like the sun's warmth on a cold winter day.

"Of course you did," you chuckled, a yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

Just as expected, Bucky tried to slip his fingers into your mouth mid-yawn, but you swatted his hand away before he could pull his usual antics. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that charming, divinely gorgeous way that always made your heart flutter.

"What's the time?" you murmured, tugging at his t-shirt. Bucky slid closer, effortlessly molding against you as you hooked a leg over his hip, his thigh slotting between yours. His warmth, his scent--you savored every bit of him.

God, you'd missed him. Missed them.

"4:15," he whispered, voice low and soothing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his metal fingers brushing your cheek, tucking away a few stray strands. At some point, your braid must have loosened in your sleep.

"How was training?" you asked, voice drowsy. Bucky grunted in response, lips trailing lazy kisses along your skin. You hummed, fingers idly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt, knowing exactly what that grunt meant. Training without Steve usually had him in a mood.

Bucky shifted just an inch away, his eyes locked on yours. And you smiled at him, watching his eyes twinkle with love. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. A comfortable silence settled. Bucky and you got lost in each other's touches, eyes blinking slowly.

"You really haven't been sleeping much, have you?" Bucky murmured, his brows twitching into a concerned frown.

You reached up, smoothing your fingers over the crease between them, watching as the tension melted from his face. He sighed under your touch, and you only shrugged slightly, a small pout tugging at your lips.

"I guess," you whispered, your fingers drifting down to gently massage his jaw. Bucky let out a low, satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

It was during these rare silences--filled with unspoken love you pondered how far you had come. You were so grateful. So unbelievably proud of the choices you had all made, of the life you had built together.

Bucky's expression softened even more as he grumbled, "I'm sorry." His lower lip jutted out just enough to make you want to suckle on it--so you did.

He let out a pleased hum, pressing a soft peck to your lips, his warm breath tickling your senses as he continued, "For trying to wake you up while you were sleeping. I'm such a jerk sometimes."

You let out a quiet laugh but quickly stilled when you felt Steve shift behind you, his forehead pressing snugly against the column of your neck as he instinctively pulled you closer. You waited, holding your breath to see if he would wake. When he didn't, you relaxed and turned your attention back to Bucky, your fingers trailing along his cheek, savoring the contrast between his soft skin and the roughness of his stubble.

"You think I even noticed? I was out like a light," you teased, grinning wide. "Besides, nothing to be sorry about… I know you're my Sugarpuss."

Bucky's eyes widened in mock offense as he dramatically gestured toward Steve. "He's Sugarpuss."

"No, he's not. He's the wise and responsible one of us. He keeps us in line. Besides, he'd only ever call you Sugarpuss," you teased, winking.

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Though… you're more of a sourpuss most of the time," you added with a playful smirk.

Bucky let out a dramatic grunt before suddenly pulling you closer. Steve shifted behind you, now sprawled out on his stomach.

"I'd beat his ass if he ever called me that," Bucky muttered, tossing a leg over you and tugging you flush against him.

"You'd beat my ass too?" you teased, grinning as you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his neck.

Bucky moaned in satisfaction, the deep rumble of his throat vibrating against your lips.

"You're my pretty girl. You can call me any shitty name you want," he murmured, eyes crinkling with affection.

Before you could fawn over that, another snore rumbled from Steve, and Bucky turned his head to glance at him.

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, he huffed, "And he said he didn't need a nap."

"Yeah?" you asked, unable to resist the giggle bubbling up.

"Yeah. Hell-bent on me not lurking around you," Bucky said, shaking his head.

You laughed, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

"Guess what? He came by the lab... Captain mode," you whispered, your fingers threading through Bucky's hair, tugging just the way he liked. He let out a happy sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Really?" Bucky rasped, his voice thick with interest. His hand found the band of your panties, and he snapped them. You squirmed, feeling the warmth bubbling.

"Yeah! He announced that there was a meeting and that I was needed," you continued, chuckling. "Carried me home and put me to sleep."

Bucky hummed his palm kneading slow, lazy circles into your hip. His touch was heavy, possessive. His metal arm slipped underneath your shirt.

"Bucky…" you warned, shaking your head slightly.

But Bucky grinned, squeezing and massaging your tit, flicking your nipple. You squirmed, breath hitching at the sensation.

His smirk was downright sinful. "Put you to sleep, huh?"

Bucky seemed to take pity because he moved his hand away, but only for his fingers now trailing along your collarbone, then down the length of your neck. The cool Vibranium warmed instantly against your skin as he pushed your--Steve's--t-shirt off your shoulder.

"He left marks, didn't he?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, your face reddening up at the memory of Steve taking you apart after you denied that you were not sleepy.

Bucky huffed in mock offense, his fingers ghosting over the faint hickeys. "And he tells me, 'No funny business, Buck.'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Wise, my ass. I'm the wiser one." The words were more for himself than for you, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

The way your body responded to him was crazy.

"And I feel absolutely left out," Bucky murmured against your mouth, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

The need to taste him, to pull him closer, was overwhelming.

"We can't have that, Buck," you whispered.

And then, as if reading each other's minds, you both moved at once. The kiss was passionately satiating yet a consuming hunger overwhelmed you. His tongue trailed inside your mouth, lapping at you hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip.

"You're a goddess, you know that?" he rasped, moaning at the taste, revving you up just right. "Fuck, I missed you so much," Bucky growled lowly. Your dismissive protests of his praise were captured by his mouth, kissing you more while he trailed his metal fingers down your stomach, slipping them into your panties.

Beautiful dilated blues gazed at you, and you arched into him, pulling at the short strands of his hair at the back when he cupped your heat and squeezed it. The moan that escaped you was hungrily captured again, hushing you by kissing.

And Steve shifted behind you, making you still in realization.

"Steve is sleeping," you murmured half-heartedly, feeling Steve shift slightly behind you, but Bucky chuckled, the absolute menace that he was, his fingers prodded at your slick entrance, "Gotta be real quiet then, hmm?" he groaned.

"Buck…" You started, only to be shut off by one finger inching inside, and your breath hitched.

"These are not helping," he groaned, caressing and nipping at the marks Steve left on you earlier.

You gripped onto his back, fingers digging into his skin as retribution for the pleasure he was providing you. Bucky nipped at the skin right under your ear, making you squirm. He pushed his second finger inside, setting a languid pace, and let out a rather low growl.

You moaned into his ear, licking the skin on the side of his neck, nipping. God, he smelled like temptation, and you felt weak.

You cried in delight as you felt his fingers hit the spot he was privy to.

You felt parched, and you needed him.

"I know, I know. Good fucking girl," he rumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You stumbled against his chest, breathless, limbs tangled.

You froze for a second, glancing at Steve, but he was still fast asleep, his steady breathing undisturbed.

When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning up at you, dazed and smug, his eyes glinting wickedly.

You had a good retort ready, but he curled his fingers, turning the words into a moan, and his other hand weaved into your hair, bringing you close to his mouth and sucking your lower lip.

"Quiet, pretty girl. Don't wanna disturb him. Do we?" You bit onto his jaw, holding back the moans that were trying to escape.

Bucky adjusted you in his arms, pressing you against his strong chest, his fingers fucking your wet and welcoming heat. "Hmm. Fuck, you smell divine," he grunted.

Your teeth grazed his skin, his scent hit you tenfold, and the pleasure made you heady.

"Beautiful," Bucky mumbled, his fingers curled expertly inside, and you teetered on the edge of pleasure, breath caught.

"And mine. Ours," Bucky added, moaning against the corner of your mouth, his hips thrusting up against your thigh. The tickling sensation of his hardness made you squirm, and Bucky's languid thrusts turned faster.

"Bucky," You moaned, and he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

"Yeah? Gonna cum, aren't you? Fuck. My perfect girl," he encouraged, and you nodded, mouth falling open, speechless, while your pussy gripped onto his fingers. The sensation hit you fast, clutching you into the depths of pleasure.

Bucky held you tightly, kissing your jaw as you rode your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and you whimpered when he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes shut for a moment. "Bucky," you breathed. The sight always mortified and did things to you.

"I wanna eat you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice humming through his chest, making your heart flutter.

"But I know you can't keep quiet if I get my mouth on you," he chuckled condescendingly, pushing his boxers down, and your eyes widened, looking at him pointedly.

You shook your head at him, this time more vehemently, but Bucky's smug grin only widened as he adjusted you properly, and your hands held onto him for stability. He nudged you with a wink, giving himself a stroke and slotting his tip at your entrance. Your hesitation vanished with how good it felt.

You both could be quiet, right?

Your breath hitched as he slowly rocked from underneath, and you collapsed onto his broad chest.

"Are you close already?" He cooed, completely sheathed inside you. Bucky gritted his teeth when he felt you clench him.

Your breath caught as your fingers gripped at his t-shirt, and your mouth muffled with bites.

Bucky was making you speechless, wild, and a moaning mess.

A loud guttural groan escaped him, and you hushed him pointedly.

"Fuck, I can't help it," He remarked.

****

When Captain Rogers wakes up. Teehee!

Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, you nipped at his collarbone. Bucky's palm flexed on your hip, pulling you more into him, and the slight pain it caused made you clench onto him tightly while pleasure rippled through your body.

Bucky hissed, muttering how perfectly you milked him. When his tip kissed your cervix, you moaned.

"Mmm…feels like heaven. Doesn't it?" Bucky hissed, pushing your t-shirt to the side harshly and biting your shoulder. Your nails dug into his biceps, metal and flesh alike, tightly. The contrast urged you on more.

Your t-shirt--Steve's t-shirt--rucked up high with all the thrusting, and you pushed Bucky's t-shirt just a bit up to feel his skin against yours--taut, muscular, soft, scarred, and all yours. "You're so pretty, Buck," You sighed happily, his hardness feeling so full and fulfilling, and you felt the familiar rush as you careened into pleasure.

A sleepy snort broke the moment, followed by a large, steady hand wrapping around your waist, halting your movement. The pleasure that had been building crashed just as fast, leaving you teetering on the edge. You almost wailed in frustration.

You and Bucky turned at the same time, cheek-to-cheek, to face the culprit.

Steve was awake--barely. Propped up on one elbow, his face was adorably scrunched, hair sleep-mussed, eyes narrowed at the two of you with faux disapproval. He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, the sound rolling through your body teasingly, making you squirm against Bucky.

You unknowingly clenched him just a bit, and Bucky groaned, rocking into you.

Bucky's stubble tickled your cheek as he spoke, his chuckle vibrating through his chest.

"Hands off, Steve. We're in the middle of something," Bucky growled, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust. No one could stop the moan coming from you. The pleasure building again.

When Steve tapped your cheek, you opened your eyes to see his amused grin. In the next instant, Steve straddled Bucky, towering over you from behind. His hand tightened around your waist before you were haphazardly lifted off Bucky.

Both you and Bucky hissed at the sudden loss of contact.

You expected Steve to throw you onto the bed, but no. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bucky, who looked back with an expression of both amusement and irritation.

Steve smacked your butt, and you squealed, trying hard to steady yourself on Bucky.

Steve didn't give you time. He pulled you up against his warm chest, discarding your--his--t-shirt and throwing away his to the side. Bucky's gaze shifted to your tits, and he grinned, his both hands coming up to squeeze them.

"Can't help yourself, Buck. Can you?" Steve taunted. Bucky cursed, throwing empty threats at Steve. Steve angled your hips, rubbing his tip against your slick.

Oh, Fuck! Your eyes widened.

You collapsed on Bucky at the sensation, and he steadied you.

"STEVE…Holy…" You gasped as Steve entered you slowly from behind without much resistance, simultaneously bending you onto Bucky.

Bucky was still hard, and he twitched against your tummy, hot and wet.

"Gotta teach him a lesson," Steve said, and honestly, you didn't care. You just want them to stop edging you.

Bucky bared his teeth in sweet agony as he moved to touch himself, but Steve was faster, and he swatted Bucky's hand away.

"Nuh-uh, you're gonna watch while I make our pretty girl feel good," Steve chuckled darkly, his broad frame engulfing you as he nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

"Steve," Bucky gritted in annoyance, trying to squirm away.

"Can't take one order," Steve mocked, riling Bucky up, his hand splayed on the inside of your right thigh and spread you some more, firmly adjusting you on Bucky's torso.

"Fuckkkkk," You cried.

"You're not my boss," Bucky growled challengingly. You could feel him squirm under you both.

"Is that so?" Steve hummed from over your shoulder, too pleased with himself. His hands loosened the grip around you and moved to Bucky's jaw while Steve's other hand held your waist, hoisting you up just a bit. You held onto his forearm with both hands as you felt your knees wobble.

"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown in hazy lust. And with a single tap against his lips, Bucky sucked onto his thumb. The sight was hot and was making you delirious with need. You clenched around Steve, and a breathy gasp turned into a moan when Steve pulled out and thrust into you.

Your nails dug into Steve's arm harshly as the pleasure wrecked you.

Bucky pulled you and Steve on top of him and Steve eased you gently onto Bucky and pinned his hands beside him. The angled thrust had you almost coming. Almost.

Their weight and warmth added to your pleasure. Steve adjusted your hips as he pounded you from behind.

Steve nudged against your neck, propping against your shoulder as he leaned toward Bucky.

"I said no funny business. Didn't I?" Steve reminded Bucky, their banter holding nothing back as Steve pounded into you without breaking pace while Bucky kissed your parted mouth.

Bucky winked. "You have no right demanding shit from me, punk." he traced the slightly dark marks on the expanse of your chest, ones that Steve took his time leaving earlier.

Steve's breathless laugh tickled your throat as he pulled Bucky for a kiss, effectively squishing you between them. The angle only made you scream as pleasure shot through you.

"Easy there," Bucky warned Steve.

"FUCKK…" Steve lifted you off Bucky slightly, his one arm wrapping around you carefully, firmly, resting both of your weights on his knees, straddling Bucky.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I aim to please. You know that," Steve said to Bucky while adjusting Bucky's cock directly where you were connected, rubbing it gently on your clit, and you gasped, squirming away from his grip. The sensation was driving you nuts.

All three of you moaned in sync. A litany of curses spewed.

You threw your head onto Steve's shoulder, both hands gripping his forearm as he rocked into you.

"Eyes on me," Bucky demanded, squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple. It felt like a Herculean task to open your eyes, but you did, meeting his darkened blues. He parted his lips, tongue peeking out as he forced you closer. Steve loosened his grip, maneuvering you closer to Bucky.

"You smell so fucking good," Bucky grunted, taking you in a searing kiss.

"Look at you. So needy. Fuck, I could do this all day," Steve moaned, increasing his pace. Despite the pleasure coursing through, both you and Bucky rolled your eyes at him in sync, and a few breathy chuckles escaped you.

"Shut up," Steve exclaimed, chuckling. Steve unwound one of his forearms and trailed it up Bucky's chest, carding through Bucky's short locks as he tugged them.

"OH FUCKKK…" Bucky moaned lewdly, baring his teeth and biting his lower lip.

"Can't take one order now, can you?" Steve hissed as his pace faltered, he was close, fucking sporadically.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours with a squeeze that spoke of love amidst the filthy, noisy mess you all were making. Steve placed an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nipping as his fingers from Bucky's hair moved to place his large palm on his chest, right above Bucky's heart.

Bucky's erection rubbed against you and Steve hard and fast, right where you were joined.

"You're close, aren't you, Buck," Steve grunted as he rolled his hips, pressing you sensually against Bucky.

The manly groans, their scent, and their warmth, added to the sweet sensations…Holy Shitz! You were coming for the second time that day around Steve.

"I love you both. FUCK!" Steve moaned, thrusting a couple more times before you felt the hot white ropes filling you up, and you came tumbling down as white-hot pleasure throbbed your senses as you milked him, clutching onto both of them so tightly that it would have left their bones broken were they not supersoldiers.

"Oh shit!" Bucky groaned as he rocked upwards, cumming all over your front and his.

Your body flailed as you collapsed into Bucky, and so did Steve. Steve's taut, sweaty, muscular chest weighed you down onto Bucky, and his partial weight felt heavenly on you.

"I love you," You breathed, eyes closed as you nuzzled into Bucky's soft t-shirt, the stars still exploding behind your lids.

You felt euphoric!

The three of you laid there for a while.

You didn't--couldn't--open your eyes when you were readjusted, now lying on Steve.

Steve's laughter rumbled against your back as you felt Bucky move over you.

"Open 'em, sweet girl," Bucky cooed against your mouth, and you did. He grinned widely.

"You got one more in you, don't you, doll?" Bucky asked. His cock was hard, tip nudging your slick heat.

You bit your lip, not directly answering, but rocking against his tip. Bucky gave a dazzling smile as he inched inside you.

Oh, you were going to be sore and would need all the rest, but you couldn't deny your man, could you now?

"Good girl," Bucky groaned as he gently adjusted you above Steve.

"I love me some supersoldier sandwich," you managed to utter, your words broken and mostly turning into a moan.

"Oh, we're aware," Steve quirked, placing kisses alongside your neck, spreading your thighs wide, and holding them firmly as Bucky fucked you in missionary on Steve.

"Feels good, Buck? Is my cum warming you up well?" Steve taunted, revving Bucky up a bit more.

Steve moved strands of hair out of your face and brushed Bucky's forehead, and you could feel his hardness poking your hips.

Bucky groaned as he fucked with much more vigor. Dear Heavens! You felt every thrust, and it also made you conscious of your weight pressing into Steve.

A thought, while quite stupid, crept into your fucked out mind unknowingly.

"Hey, hey…too much?" Bucky asked, stalling his movements. You blushed, shaking your head, and tilted behind and looked up at a concerned Steve.

"Are you okay?" You asked him. You saw the look of recognition in his eyes, and his concern etched away.

"I am, sweetheart," Steve sighed, adjusting you more firmly, and you squealed. Bucky tapped your cheek, and you met his gaze reluctantly.

"Buck, love some sense into her, harder," Steve chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, his hands massing your thighs.

You gasped. "I didn't mean…OH FUCKKKK," You started, but Bucky's thrust cut you off.

"BUCKY," You moaned.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Captain's orders," Bucky chuckled, fucking you maddeningly fast.

"Oh, now you follow his orders." You cried and arched on Steve's naked body.

Steve's hand tugged at Bucky's hair. And Bucky moaned, biting onto your chest. Steve turned your knees, helping you wrap them around Bucky's, and you clutched onto Bucky tightly.

Steve's hand crept between you and Bucky and rubbed your overstimulated clit. It really didn't take long before you felt the orgasm consume you.

"I'm…"

"Cum for me." Bucky breathed against your skin, his stubble rough and sensual against your chest as he sucked on your tit.

You were thankful that your home was far off civilization, completely private, because the way you shouted, you bet people would have surely freaked the fuck out.

"Holy Shit!" Bucky's hips stuttered, and soon he was filling you up, moaning loudly in that deep voice that made your pussy flutter.

"I love you," Steve whispered reverently, and you hummed blissfully, unable to form any words in response after those body-shattering orgasms. You fell into a dreamless void almost immediately, ears ringing as your body trembled in the aftermath of pleasure. You had no idea how long you slept.

"Come on, doll, gotta clean you up." You were barely aware of the events that followed, only remembering being carried to the guest bedroom vividly.

"Gotta change the sheets, doll. Sleep here," Steve said as he gently adjusted you on the queen mattress. Steve and Bucky's muffled voices sifted through your foggy mind.

"You're a fucking idiot, Stevie. I love you," you heard Bucky laugh, and you chuckled, mentally agreeing with him, though you weren't entirely sure what they were talking about.

Steve scoffed playfully, muttering something at Bucky that only made him laugh harder. Then, Steve tucked you in with a warm blanket, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Get going, Buck. You promised to finish up with the laundry. I'll make dinner," Steve said.

"I'll help, too," you mumbled into the pillow.

Steve chuckled, peppering your neck with kisses that made you squirm from the sensation. "You're going to sleep and get all the rest. Understood?" he declared.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," you breathed, relaxing as your weight sank into the mattress. Steve's kiss lingered on your cheek long after, and you heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled away. The door groaned softly when he stepped into the living room.

God, one of you seriously needed to oil the door. The croaking was getting creepy.

Moments later, the bed dipped beside you. Bucky's warm fingers slid through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, gentle strokes.

"Don't make me come in there, Bucky," Steve's voice carried from the living room, laced with warning.

Bucky chuckled against your neck. "He's such a prick sometimes," he groaned, his breath warm against your skin.

"I heard that," Steve's voice was much closer now. You chuckled sleepily.

"Steve tore your favorite bra," Bucky stage-whispered.

"Huh?" you mumbled, confused. You weren't wearing a bra, though. You blinked your eyes open, only to see Bucky being dragged out of the room.

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district4loading · 4 months ago

Text

Just Hold Me

Twice Sana x Male reader

6K Words

Content Warning: smut, fluff, really sappy, mentions of depression and abuse, kinda unrealistic elements

Minors DNI

A/N: I came up with the plot for this one with a friend of mine who I met on here not too long ago. Super cool guy who enjoys my fluffier fics so I didn't mind writing this one.

Please enjoy this really... really fluffy fic. More to come!!!

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life.

It's the sound of the rain hitting the glass, the endless thudding against your bedroom window that has your attention. You stare at it silently, waiting for her to join you in bed as you lay there cold and almost lifeless. There wasn't anything profound about the harsh rainfall outside, you just needed something—anything—to focus on besides your thoughts.

The rooms dark and everything just feels so heavy. It always gets like this when you're alone. You've gotten better at distracting yourself but on nights like these when there's not one single thing that feels right, it gets so hard.

So you find yourself thinking again, your eyes so empty and lost without any purpose. You were in one of your depressive episodes which came around every few months. You've been able to hide it from her for a while now. You kept a smile on your face, you were never not there for her and you found yourself only letting out your true emotions in the shower or any time you had by yourself.

(Usually in the car right after work)

Being all emotional with Sana is something you never want to do. She's too perfect, too precious, and way too pure to have to deal with the absolute train wreck that you are. Something tells you that you need to be the perfect man for her, be strong, be stoic, be a protector. It's in the back of your mind and it's so loud and persistent that you actually believe it.

You can't be there for her if you're crying in her arms about your problems

So when you see her beautiful face come through your bedroom door, you suck in every bit of sorrow and somehow manage to force a slight smile. She shuts the door behind her and climbs into bed right where she belongs, wrapped in your arms. You get the covers over you and then there comes the warmth that you've been longing for.

Even with her here, your mind is still going and your thoughts begin to swarm. You're too stuck in your head that you don't even notice the lack of words she spoke or the eerie and unusual silence that continues while she's in bed. You only hold her tighter and for the first time tonight you hear her soft voice and it immediately brings you back to reality.

"Y/n"

You only hum in response, staring into the dark room because the position you were in didn't allow you to face each other. You were both laying on your sides, your arms wrapped around her and your chest pressed flush against her back.

Sana brings her hand up and holds yours that rested on her belly "What's going on with you?"

The tone she uses nearly breaks you. It's how concerned she sounds, how genuinely worried she is about you. "What are you talking about?" You really try to make it seem like you have no idea what she means because you know that she shouldn't have to deal with this.

"You've been coming home from work late, you barely eat, and I feel like I haven't seen you smile in weeks"

Your heart sinks as you realize that you may not have been masking it well like you thought you'd been. Not at all.

You force a chuckle "I'm smiling right now"

She turns over to face you, the side of her face sinking into the soft pillow as she looks into your eyes with serious worry. She doesn't even crack a smile at your joke. "Stop it, I mean a genuine smile. Something's not right... I can see it in your eyes"

"It's really nothing, I promise. Works just been a little stressful"

"Is that all?"

"I promise, princess" You reach over to move her hair out of her face, then you caress her cheek.

Sana sees the way you nod and how you're looking into her eyes as you speak. She almost believes it but she still has a feeling that there's something you're not telling her. If only you knew how frightened she is about this sudden change in you. She's watched it happen in real time and it brings this uncomfortable twisting feeling in her stomach. One that comes anytime she thinks about it.

But she reluctantly nods after staring into your eyes for a moment "Okay" Is all she says before initiating a change in position. Sana nudges you to lay on your back then snuggles herself into your side, draping her leg just over your lower abdomen. Her arm comes next, landing on your chest. Then she kisses your cheek "I hope you know that I'll always be here for you if you ever need to talk, I love you" She mumbles into your skin.

"I love you too"

Those were the last words spoken before the silence came back and stayed for good. Sana holds you tight like she thinks you might go somewhere and then she falls asleep, leaving you to think about her words. The look in her eyes is now engrained in your mind. They were almost desperate, looking to you for any answer that could give her some knowledge or anything that she can use to help you. It couldn't be more obvious that you need it.

It's killing her and you haven't noticed until now.

You couldn't sleep much at all and by the morning, you found yourself solemnly sitting on the edge of your bed deep in your thoughts once again. It was getting bad. So bad that you didn't even notice when Sana woke up. The moment her eyes flutter open she almost immediately feels it in the atmosphere—the darkness accompanied by the rain knocking against the window.

She looks over to the digital clock on the nightstand.

Five AM

"Babe?" Sana mumbles through a stifled yawn, sitting up in the dim room. It's still kind of dark out but she can see you clearly. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and gives in to a short yawn as she waits for you to hum like you always do, or turn around, or do something to at least acknowledge her presence.

She sits up and scoots over "Please talk to me, you're scaring me" She says it in such a cute and wholesome way with her voice as sweet as honey. She's navigated her way next to you, her feet hanging off the bed as she tugs on the hem of her shirt nervously.

It's only then when you're actually snapped out of every bad thought you were having. You look over into her wide eyes and you open your mouth to say something, to lie and tell her to go back to bed. But you can't because there's a lump in your throat so big you're unable to convey any words so instead you swallow and turn your head away.

"Please"

In one last effort to get you to say something, Sana pushes her hand through the space between your arm and your torso, then she holds your hand and interlocks your fingers. She squeezes her hand and you squeeze back to let her know that you're there. You look over to her one last time and she's silently pleading with her teary eyes. "Sana, I..." You pause and swallow again when your voice wavers.

She perks up "It's okay, take your time baby" She comforts you.

"I never told you but... I've been through a lot in the past and I'm fucked up because of it"

Sana gives you a look. It's pity and it's so prominent that you can't even bring yourself to look her in the eye. She's silent for a moment and you start to worry if it's all too much for her to handle. She shouldn't have to deal with someone who's got tons of baggage. "Why did you feel the need to hide it from me?" She asks as a tear rolls down her cheek. That's not the only one though, following it comes multiple, leaving streaks of clear dripping down her face.

"It's a long story and it doesn't matter now. All I'd be doing is wasting your time if you let me sit here and bitch about my problems all day long. You don't deserve that"

You turn your head away from Sana when you feel a tear threaten to fall and you blink it away as quickly as you can. "I will sit here for days and listen to your story if I have to! I'm your girlfriend, I deserve to hear it" She persists but you only keep your head turned away.

"It's irrelevant"

A heavy, punishing silence follows your statement and you feel Sana let go of your hand and pull it away. You assume that she's going to let it go like you've told her to but instead she puts her palm flat on your back. There's this feeling of relief you get from it and when she begins to rub softly in circles, you feel comfortable again.

Then you look over to Sana because suddenly she's stopped the comforting motions and her eyes have seemed to go empty and there's this look of devastating shock on her face.

The thing is, she's seeing it all. All of your past experiences, the abuse, the negligence, the bullying, everything. Her breaths turn rapid as she sees it so vivid and clear. Graphic images of the torturous violence you've faced when you couldn't have been more than ten years old and then the nasty words they've said that's engrained so deep into your brain.

"Worthless" "Useless" "disgusting" "Kill yourself"

She hears it loudly echoing in her head then she gasps and a new rush of tears falls from her eyes.

You don't know what's happening but it's fucking terrifying and you try your best to snap her out of this trance-like state. "Sana" You call her name and grab her by the shoulders. Then you shake her a bit and with a blink she seems to be back "Are you okay? What happened?" You ask, your heart racing wildly.

Sana comes back, then she looks into your eyes again. But this time there isn't any pity. It's more-so understanding. Something about her gaze feels like she sees you, like she gets it and you didn't even have to say a word. "Oh" She almost sobs, then she whispers "My baby boy" and she wraps her arms around you.

Your heart melts completely and you finally break.

You cry into her shoulder, your tears staining her top but she could care less about it, she only holds you closer and tighter. She runs her fingers through your hair "My sweet prince" She starts, then she has to breath for a moment "You're perfect... you're enough... you're my everything."

"Sana" You shake your head, trying to reject it all, trying not to feel as much as you are right now.

"No" She pulls away from the hug, then makes a quick move to straddle your lap "I fucking love you... I need you" She holds your face in her hands so you have no choice but to look into her eyes. Those beautiful orbs that are so easy to get lost in. So much so that you don't even notice when she leans in to kiss you until your lips are already connected.

Your eyes shut and so do Sana's as you allow this newfound warmth to bind you. The kiss is so slow and sensual, you move your lips in unison with one another. You understand each other like that. If she parts her lips, you know your tongue should be in her mouth. That's exactly what you do. You lick into her mouth with a passion that tells her how much you love her—how much you need her. "I love you" You mumble into the kiss "I need you" then repeat what she said.

You can taste the salty mix of your tears, but neither of you care, you just continue to enjoy this kiss. It feels so good that you actually forget, you actually can't think of anything but Sana right now. That's all you've ever wanted to do. Your hands run up her top and you get a hold of the warm skin of her bare waist then you pull her closer to you.

Sana's hands leave your face, she grabs a hold of your shoulders and begins to push on them. You take the hint and lean backwards until you're laying flat on the bed with her on top of you. You shuffle around so your feet are also on the bed and she helps out with that. Then in no time, your lips are connected again and now you're back to devouring each other.

"Please... I need..." Sana mutters through the kiss but then she breaks it completely and puts her hands on your chest "I need you" You nod your head and watch as she pulls her top over her head. You need her just as bad right now in this vulnerable moment when you have so much love to give--she's all you need.

So you take your tank top off, almost missing the way her breasts fall free from her shirt. Sana leans over again and kisses you, there's more passion in it this time and you reach your hands over to feel her body. Her skin is always so soft and warm. Moments later you let your hands gravitate to her breasts and you begin to massage them slowly, almost like you're kneading dough but with a bit less rigor and a bit more care.

She moans softly into your mouth and then she pulls away. Sana looks into your eyes for a moment, then scoots herself back so she's sat on your thighs. She grabs the waistband of your pajama pants and begins to tug on them. You raise your hips and allow her to strip you of your pants along with your boxers.

Sana takes your cock into her hand and pumps you to life with her soft hand (There wasn't much work to do because you were already halfway there). You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch the moment she lowers her head and sticks her tongue out. She licks the tip softly with her hand still holding the base firmly and then she takes you into her mouth. The first feeling of her soft, saliva coated lips has a low and long groan forcing its way out of your throat.

Her eyes lock with yours and she begins to descend, her hot mouth taking as much of you as possible. Once her lips, come into contact with her fist she comes back up and starts bobbing her head while she strokes you. "Fuck.. Sana - that feels so... good" You sigh while her velvety tongue scrapes against the underside of your cock.

It's one of the best feelings ever, the best part being that Sana won't take her eyes off of you. Although she can't speak, her eyes tell you everything that you need to know. She's looking at you with so much love and care that it brings you some actual comfort, like you two are the only living beings in the entire universe right now. Anything that matters or has ever mattered is now irrelevant, not even your demons could get to you in this bubble.

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life.

You've known it for a while now but never has there ever been a moment like this thats made the fact so apparent. "I love you" There's a shudder in your voice when you say the words because she's doing everything right. Both her mouth and her hand are working together to please you and it only feels better the sloppier everything gets.

In a moment, Sana withdraws her mouth with a popping sound following and she begins to jerk you off "I love you more" she smiles, then pokes out her tongue to let it rest against your tip so she can lap up the pre-cum leaking endlessly. "You ready for me?" There's a cute smirk that accompanies the simple question.

"Yes please" You nod and then you watch as she takes off her shorts and panties. Now her completely bare body is exposed to you and everything about it is pure perfection. "You're perfect" You sigh as she climbs on top of you.

Sana only giggles "Not as perfect as you my sweet prince." Her smile makes your pupils dilate nearly ten times as big as they already were. You didn't agree with her, but you let her have this one because there's no use in ruining this beautiful moment with something as morose as self deprecation. It doesn't at all change the fact that her words make you so feel warm inside that it might just be enough to make the thick ice in your cold heart thaw.

She leans over, laying her soft body on yours and she kisses you softly. Your hands find her waist again—because they're supposed to be there—and you squeeze her supple flesh "I need you... so bad" You mumble the words desperately against her lips and Sana kisses you harder, reaching her hand down to find your cock.

It's throbbing in her hold, only for her and you feel her smile when she notices it. Sana lifts her hips and presses your tip into her entrance, wasting no time to lower herself nice and slow. Her tight cunt grips you firmly as she sinks down and you can't help but moan into her mouth as your nerves begin to register the heat.

"Fuck" Sana breaks the kiss, her face only millimeters away from yours when her thighs land on your lap. Her face twists up, her jaw clenches and her eyes shut as she tries to get used to the stretch of your thick cock. "Your cock is so fucking..." She grits, exhaling a hot breath against your cheek before raising her hips and slamming them back down.

She connects your lips again and then she begins to ride you, moving her hips up and down in this slowed and steadied rhythm. It has you bucking your hips to meet hers half-way because she feels so fucking good. Sana moans into your mouth freely and loudly, struggling more and more to continue the kiss as she fucks you.

Soon enough, her mouth is hanging open and it's you doing all the work, kissing, licking and sucking her plump lips.

There's something so perfect about being inside of Sana, especially when she's riding you. Her pussy wraps around you just right, like a tight warm hug (only it's sopping wet). With each movement she makes lighting each one of your nerves on fire to make sure that you feel the almost electric pleasure. It's how she moves her hips with such direction and purpose that has your toes curling and your heart pumping. Then it's the way her cunt clenches occasionally when you're completely buried inside.

Sana's an expert at this, she's mastered the art of riding you at this point in your relationship. She knows exactly what movements make you tick, how to moan your name, how to praise you--all to get you reeling with her name on your lips.

She knows you like the back of her hand.

She lifts herself a bit then plants her hands on your shoulders and she begins to roll her hips back and forth in a way that has your eyes threatening to roll back into your skull but you keep them on her. You have to see it. How perfect her tits look bouncing with the force of her motions, the pleasureful look on her face, the lust in her eyes and the sweat beading on her flushed body. Sana looks too perfect right now for you to miss anything.

"Sana, your pussy... feels so damn good" You moan, hands still holding on so tightly to her waist that you're leaving marks. "I fucking love you"

"You're so perfect, my love" A warm smile shows on her lips, she takes your hands and interlocks your fingers, pinning your arms to the bed. "I can't imagine... fuck" She moans involuntarily and she's getting close already "I couldn't imagine life without you" She admits through her warm haze.

"I'm not going anywhere, princess" You promise with so much conviction it's like God himself is speaking through you.

Because Sana fucking needs you just as much as you need her and you just can't let this depression eat you alive when you have her.

You won't.

Sana's the opposite of a liability. She only uplifts you, she makes you feel so good about yourself that you'd think you were on top of the world. She makes life worth all the bad and she's probably the best thing you have in this life. She's someone you can brag about without fail or embarrassment.

That is where you find some hope. Some actual hope in the sea of despair you've been floating lifelessly in.

"I-I'm close" Sana warns, snapping you out of your thoughts and it's definitely coming. You see all the signs. The way her hips stutter, how she's just bouncing her petite ass on your lap with her eyes shut and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. There's also that pulsing inside of her wet heat that you just can't ignore.

She's right there

When she starts struggling to make her movements smooth, you take her waist back into your hands. Then Sana falls forwards, some of her brown hair getting in your face as you hold her in place tightly so she cant move. Before Sana can even complain about it you're using nothing but your core strength to piston your cock into her at a speed so ungodly it has her jaw dropping.

"Yeah - Yeah just like that, princess. Cum for me" Your voice shakes as you sing her praises because your body could give out at any moment if you keep fucking her like this. You begin to break a sweat, your cock burning up as you fuck her soaked cunt. The noise is filthy. Now that she's gone silent, you can hear it loud and clear. Every sticky squelch when your hips meet the backs of her thighs is so obscenely loud in your ears. "Come on, Sana" You nearly heave into her ear.

Then she begins to shudder and you know you have her when "Ah fuck baby I'm cumming. I'm fucking -" she cuts herself off with a vocal moan. Her slick wets your entire lap, spreading everywhere as her hips go wild in an attempt to ride out her high. You never stopped grinding into her either, all deep and slow inside so she'd feel every inch as she cums. "God" She sighs and then she stops moving and you follow suit.

Sana weakly brings her head up and connects your lips again. You kiss back, immediately pouring your entire heart into this kiss because she deserves it. She deserves everything. When she starts moving again you stop her with your hands "Baby" She whines, then your lips disconnect. She pouts at you "I want to make you cum" She tries moving again but you don't say anything.

You flip her over gently, then get yourself between her legs "I want us to cum together"

She looks into your eyes then lifts her hand to caress your cheek softly "Whatever you want my sweet prince" You nearly melt at the term of endearment because it makes you feel so connected to her. The genuine tone in her voice accompanied by the softness makes it even more intimate and the 'my' signifying that you're hers because you'll always be.

It's one of your favorites.

Sana notices how your eyes soften as you look into hers and you don't even break eye contact when you guide your tip towards her begging entrance. As you slide in, her eyebrows furrow, but she keeps looking at you with those big beautiful eyes. You lean over to put your lips on hers once more and that's when you begin to move.

You make sure Sana feels every single inch, the way you fuck her with such a slow, burning passion. It lights her heart on fire. "I can't - baby.. you're so deep" She's losing it at the angle because nothing compares to the way your cock rubs against her walls, just brushing past all of her tender spots.

The only thing you do is kiss her harder, your tongue exploring the warm confines of her mouth. Kissing Sana has always been one of your favorite intimate acts to do with her and if she'd let you, you'd have make out sessions that last hours upon hours on end.

Sana takes your lip in between her teeth as you pull away and then she lets go, her moans soft when you pick up the pace. You duck your head into her neck and you begin to kiss, lick and suck on the soft skin "Do whatever you want, I'm yours baby" Sana assures you, running her fingers through your hair as you begin to leave sweet marks on her.

You increase your speed a bit, not so much that it feels punishing but enough for her to know that she feels so good that you almost can't help yourself. "So wet and tight for me, princess" You growl against her skin and Sana begins to lose her breath.

"Yes - right there - fucking hell baby" Sana gasps, her arms wrapping tightly around your body. She stops herself from scratching even if she wants to and in the back of her mind she know's you would never mind it.

Either way she only hugs your body close to hers.

"Princess... I hope you're almost there cause... I" You almost whimper the words into her neck.

"Shh- I know baby, just go ahead" She rubs the back of your head in a way that feels so good that it's almost like magic. "Inside" and then a small gasp escapes her lips and before you know it, your cock is spasming inside of her and you're filling her tight cunt, painting those perfect velvety walls white. A choked groan escapes your lips and tears begin to brim your eyelids as the pleasure takes over your entire body. It has you nearly shaking, making the most expressive 'O' face you've made in maybe months.

"Fuck" You groan as you keep thrusting, fucking your load so deep it'll probably slip past her IUD. Then when everything else subsides, your cock almost goes numb as you try your hardest to get Sana there no matter what because she deserves it.

"Don't stop" Sana begs, and her voice sounds so desperate when she does because she's so close. All it took was for her to feel your cock spraying your warm cum inside of her to get her there.

When Sana's chest begins to rise you know you've got her "There you go baby, cum for me" You whisper and that's when a strangled—almost sob-like—moan leaves her mouth. You keep the pace to fuck her though it as she shudders through her orgasm.

You stop completely and you two just lay there in that position for a moment. Soon Sana begins rubbing the smooth skin on your back and you take a deep breath "I love you" you murmur.

"I love you" She begins and you give her a moment to gather her thoughts. You'd give her all the time in the world if you could. "I know I said it already but you can tell me anything. No matter what. I don't care how long it is or how fucked up it is, I want to hear your story. I need to"

"You won't look at me the same after" You mutter weakly, still not moving from where you are.

Sana stays silent for a moment "Yeah, maybe you're right" She starts off and it catches you off guard a bit but then she continues "When I look at you, I'll see someone strong. Stronger than who you were before because whatever you went through, it couldn't have been easy to endure. Most people would've already given up"

You finally decide to get off of her and you sit up on the bed. "How would you even know that?" The question might've seemed harsh but Sana knows you don't mean it like that. The reason you ask is because its scary. So scary that she's saying all the right things.

It's almost like she...

"Because I saw it!" Sana sits up as well, kind of regretting how her words come off "Well, glimpses of it" She corrects, then begins to think again and you allow it because you have no clue what to say at all "When I touched you, before we..." She shakes her head "I saw like... small pieces of everything. I saw the abuse, I heard the words.. I just... I couldn't believe it"

You only tilt your head because it's all you can really bring yourself to do. This revelation is nearly bone chilling and so inconceivable that you force yourself to believe that she's lying whether or not if it was out of character for her to joke or lie in a situation like this. "Sana that's not funny" You sort of scold her, but your voice isn't at all cold about it.

"I'm not joking" She insists.

Then, in your bedroom at maybe seven-ish in the morning, with the rain still hitting the window, Sana explains everything she saw in her visions in detail.

That's when you come to really believe that she isn't joking.

The warm water from the shower head cascades down your body smoothly and comfortably, nothing like the harsh rain outside. You wrap your arms around Sana and rest your chin on her shoulder "So if you already saw what I went through, why do I need to re-tell it to you?" are the first words spoken for the entire duration of your time in the shower.

It started off silent, the two of you cleaning each other and kissing as you enjoyed the hot water and each others presence. It was a well needed contrast from the endless talking you did in the bedroom just before. You can see the soft smile on Sana's face in the reflection of the glass door "Well, I didn't see everything" She turns around in your arms "and it'll be good for you to say it out loud, I mean I don't expect you to be better in a day. I get that it takes time but-"

Sana stops talking when you put your lips on hers, leaving a small peck on her lips. "Listen princess, you're not my therapist. I don't wanna dump that burden on you. You understand that it wouldn't be good for us, right?" It's true, treating your significant other like a therapist can lead to many bumps in a relationship. But maybe that's just another excuse as to why you've been hiding everything from Sana.

"Oh? Where'd you learn that?"

"The internet" You shrug

Sana puts her hand on your bare chest and looks into your eyes, with those loving eyes. "Well, I may not be a licensed therapist but it's important for me to know because I'm your girlfriend and I want you to be able to open up to me like I open up to you about everything" You open your mouth to say something else but Sana shushes you then she reaches for the shampoo "Now wash my hair for me, pretty please?" You can't help but smile because she's so adorable.

When Sana turns around and tilts her head back, you grumble "I still think its super weird that you have like... superpowers."

"How do you think I feel? I'm still freaked out about it" She whines playfully as you lather her hair in her shampoo. The scent is warm and floral and you can't help but lose your breath trying to inhale more and more of it. It's one of those scents that only Sana has. So to you, it quite literally belongs to her, no matter who else may use it.

"The rain stopped" You mutter softly to the girl laying on your chest with her leg thrown over you. Sana only hums at your realization and you turn over to look at the window. It's covered by your curtains because you've both decided to go back to sleep but you can still see the sun peaking through.

You smile softly, thinking about how you agreed to tell her everything when you wake up. It doesn't feel scary anymore. In fact, you were actually looking forward to getting everything off your chest. You know you'll probably end up crying in front of her again--which you're still a bit embarrassed about--but you also know that she'll be there to hold you and knowing her she'll probably cry too.

That's when you eventually doze off, and for once it's easy.

"Babe?" Sana calls your name but she only hears your heavy breathing and from that she concludes that you're asleep. She innocently shifts just a bit to make herself more comfy and it happens again.

She sees something

At first it's kind of blurry so it's difficult for her to make out but as it gets clearer, she realizes that it's the both of you cuddling in bed together.

Then just like that, it's gone. Sana jumps, a small gasp escaping her lips and it wakes you up. "Whats wrong princess?" You ask tiredly, blinking when you notice the tears running down her cheeks. "Bad dream?"

Sana only shakes her head "No... baby, it's beautiful" she cries. You try to sit up because you're really concerned but Sana stops you. "Just let me hold you" She sniffles and you reluctantly nod, allowing her to wrap her arms around you the best as she can.

You're put at ease because she doesn't seem sad at all.

It's almost like she's right where she wants to be.

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