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djarrex · 3 years

Note

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place.

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready.

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee.

“Is... this o-”

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right.

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue...

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds.

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else.

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over.

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material.

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position.

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back.

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is.

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering.

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be. “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit.

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched.

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away.

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?”

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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#once again. I got Carried Away #post-order 66 rex #djarrex writes #inbox #Rex Gayiyla #captain rex x reader #captain rex x f!reader #captain rex smut #star wars fic #request(?)#request

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kiwibirbs-library · 3 years

Text

Nightmares

a/n: so like.. uhh... how’s your day? Cause mine said work and think of this babe the whole time. Oh you too? Cool cool.

YALL THIS IS AFTER I WROTE THIS ITS SO LONG OMG OK I NEED TO GO READ THROUGH WOW

Pairing: Keith kogane x reader

Warning: uhh nightmares ya ya that. That’s it

Summary: you get nightmares, fairly bad done at that. And one night you just can’t do it anymore and go to the nearest occupied room. And suddenly it becomes a tradition.

You were rescued from a prison break. The only thing that made you special was that your entire planet was massacred and you had absolutely nowhere to go.

That was almost 6 months ago.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. In a near empty room of the castle, trying to fall back asleep. This was the fifth time you had a nightmare this week. This was the fifth time you had had to relive the vivid torture. The fifth time you’ve been curled up in a ball, tears streaming, trying to just breath through it.

After about 10 minutes you sat up. You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep going off of two hours of sleep. You really couldn’t keep hearing Shiros ‘you ok?’ Every morning when you showed up looking like the living dead.

You grabbed your blanket and wrapped it around yourself before waking to the door. The faded walking lights were enough to keep you from hitting anything as you stopped at the nearest door. Hopefully it was someone who could help you. Just to talk to if you could. In other words— as much as you enjoy him— not Lance. You gulped as you knocked on the door. You weren’t expecting it to open as soon as it did.

Keith stood in the open door way, rubbing an eyes slightly as his vision adjusted to see you clearly.

“Y/n?” His voice was raspy from not talking for a while.

“Um hi,” your voice broke in the middle. His brows furrowed as he noticed your stained cheeks and red nose.

“Are you ok?” He squinted at you a bit, still not completely able to see you.

“Uh actually could I um... stay here for a bit.... please,” it all came out whimpery and cracked. You felt kind of pathetic. You half expected him to tell you where Shiro was and go back to sleep with how long he took to respond. But no. He backed up a bit and gave you room to come in. You smiled a little up to him and shuffled in. He sat on his bed and watched you slightly as you made your way down to the floor.

He didn’t exactly know why but he didn’t like the idea of you laying there. It was clean sure, and he definitely would have let anyone else sleep there, but he couldn’t in good conscious just leave you there. Especially with how red and wet your face was when you passed him. He cleared his throat a bit and you looked up at him from your spot. He patted the mattress beside him and you got the idea, getting up and sitting next to him.

“So... what’s wrong?” He looked at your hands as they twisted into each other. You bit your lip.

“Um well, lately I’ve been having these.. um... nightmares. There of the time in the prison. And the um... things that happened,” you gulped. There was a slight pause.

“You don’t have to force yourself to talk if you can’t,” Keith sighed a bit. You looked over to him to find a surprising look of worry on his face. You were taken aback by how understanding he looked. From what you knew of him he was that loner of the group, the one that didn’t talk much and did his own thing, only worrying about himself (and Shiro as you observed). But sitting next to you wasn’t someone that didn’t know feelings of others. It was more like someone who could understand what was happening with you.

“I get nightmares too you know. Of course I’ve never been tortured like you or Shiro were, but they still get to me pretty bad,” he said bluntly, leaning back on his hands. You sighed and brought you knees to your chest, a tired look in your eyes. “You can go to sleep if you want, it would be good for you,” he said without looking at you.

“Thank you,” you smiled a little. “You know, your a lot nicer than I thought you would be one on one,” you laid down slowly.

“I’ll take that as a complement?” His words had the slightest sound of amusement with them. It brought a calming blanket down on you.

In no time your were completely knocked out, Keith leaning up against the wall, also falling asleep as he made sure you didn’t wake up.

~~~~

There was a vibrating from under your head, waking you up. You weren’t fully awake as you felt the air on your skin without opening your eyes. You felt something come underneath the pillow and stop the movement before leaving. Your brows furrowed slightly as you moved even closer to wherever the thing had come from. Without moving much you hit something, immediately running a hand down the back of it before falling back to sleep.

Keith was also awakened by a vibrating. More than you obviously as this was his alarm every morning. So when he turned it off to keep you to sleep and you moved closer he very much noticed. And then your hand ran down his back and made him shiver. He was a blushing mess. He couldn’t even say anything as you stuffed your face into his chest and stayed asleep. Without even knowing it he was smiling at you, moving some hair from your face before he thought about it. You pushed yourself forward a little more, turning him onto his back as you used him as a body pillow. For the first time in a while he had to hold back a laugh at the movement.

You both stayed like that for almost an hour before you groggily got up finally. When you saw the position you immediately started apologizing for what happened. He waved you off, his normal stern face back as he sat up and met you in the middle of the room.

“Calm down its fine, I don’t really care. Anyways we should leave, we’re about to have the morning meeting,” as if the castle could hear him the intercom turned on with a loud beep and Alluras voice came on.

“Meeting time! Hunk made food as well,” and she was gone. You smiled at the idea of Hunks cooking.

“Oh shoot I need to change,” you looked down to your pajamas.

“Meh Lance Never does don’t worry about it,” in truth Keith was just stalling to continue seeing you in them. He really didn’t understand why but he liked the sight. You both left his room before walking the halls to kitchen. Mostly everyone was there, the only one not was Lance unsurprisingly. You waved a bit as you took a seat next to Pidge, Keith to you. They looked at you both with a smile before going back into their talk about something technical.

You tried to listen as you ate but your thoughts drifted to the night before and this morning. A light pink hit your face at the thought. You smiled a little as you put the spoon to you mouth.

~~~~

These sleepovers quickly became something usual. In some instances you wouldn’t even go back to your room, just straight to his with him. At one point he told you to bring some clothes over to change so now you had your little pile in the corner of dresses and shirts. The most awkward part of it would have to when you both began cuddling consciously. You felt hot as Keith put a very hesitant arm on you, his constant ‘is this ok?’s making you laugh a bit.

You didn’t know when but at some point you started taking the sessions in for more. You would always smile at the thought of Keith. Your eyes would always wonder the room in search of him. If the found his you would gaze for a moment before looking away.

Keith knew exactly when he took after hours for more. He knew exactly what he was doing when went to his room at the end of the night, waiting impatiently for you to show up. He knew exactly what he wanted when he asked you to bring some clothes over, his idea for you to spend more time there working amazingly.

The day you got found out though was the most embarrassing moment of your life. Even worse than Pidge calling you out for staring at the boy. For one thing you were more tired than usual that morning due to training the previous day. So while reaching for a pair of leggings you missed and grabbed Keith’s spare sweatpants. Honestly you didn’t even think about how big they were as you threw on your jacket and left. Keith had left before you to meet with Shiro so you were alone and the first in the breakfast hall. By the time you stood up everyone was there as well. Keith’s hand flew to his face to hide the bright red that flushed his face when he noticed. He wasn’t going to say anything, he didn’t really want to. He would have to resist the urge to hide your normal pjs in favor of you wearing his for the next week.

“Aren’t those a little big on you?” Pidge commented.

“Huh?” You looked down and blushed a bit at the clothing. “O-oh ya, haha. Um i saw them at the mall we went to the other day and picked them up,” you coughed.

“Wow really those look like what Keith was wea—“ Lances mouth was covered and his head was dragged down by Keith’s arms. Everyone looked between you two with skeptical look before you slip out the door with a ‘well then’.

That was the catalyst of Lance following Keith to his room and hour later. He was droning on about something when Keith stopped in front of his door. He never had time to clean up this morning. Your clothes were probably still scattered in different areas. He cleared his throat.

“What?” He looked to Lance you was waiting patiently for the door to open.

“Oh I wanted to see what your room looked like. I’m bored and have nothing to do today,” he gave a dramatic sigh. Keith blocked the door.

“No.”

“Whaaat?? Why nooooott? How long have we known each other? Shouldn’t we have more trust????” Lance whined. “Besides whaaat Y/n in here the other day?”

“No,” Keith stayed. Then you came down the hall. You had went to your room in search of a pair of pants before realizing they were still sitting on the edge of Keith’s dresser. Maybe your other jacket was still on his bed if you were lucky. When you saw Lance you made a turn to leave the way you came too late.

“Y/n?” Lance called. You stopped and turned back to him.

“Hey Lance, what’s up?” You smiled a bit and walked a little closer. Keith was happy to hear your voice but also bit his lip at the predicament. You were probably looking for your favorite leggings. The ones you left here the other night. Bad timing.

“Oh I was wanting to see inside Keith’s room! What about you?” You continued talking to Lance, at one point giving Keith a side glance to say to go in. He quickly slipped into his room and started picking up your things and hastily putting it places, most went under his bed. In all honesty he didn’t mind too much about everyone finding out about your sleepovers. He did mind however about the teasing that would come with it.

The door clicked and slid open, Lance walked in with a nervous you glancing around after him.

“Wow it’s so boring in here,” Lance sighed, draping himself over on top of you. “There’s nothing in here how do you live like thi—“ he stopped when he looked over the floor. He saw something light blue poking out from under the bed. Keith tensed when lance moved it out with his foot. The jacket dragged out a few more clothes with it, all definitely not Keith’s and very obviously yours.

“Y/n did you know your clothes are— OH MY GOD NO WAY!!” He jumped away from you and looked between you and the mullet boy. “YOU TWO ARE A THINGGG??”

“No no we’re not!” You held up your hands and tried to explain. You missed Keith’s small and inaudible ’yet’.

“Then why are your clothes here? Are there more?!” Lance asked, gesturing to the small pile on the floor.

“Um well, sleepovers?” You rubbed your hands together. Lance turned to Keith.

“What does that mean?”

“Well what do you think a sleepover means? Honestly,” he crossed his arms. Lance turned back to you.

“How many times??”

“Ah ha ha um... multiple?” You looked over to Keith to find he was already watching you. You whipped back to Lance. As if the universe told you you weren’t getting out of this easy, Pidge and Hunk passed by the open door. They peered in a you heard a little laugh.

“He finally figured it out? Hah we knew weeks ago,” the small girl laughed a little, pushing her glasses up.

“You two knew?!!!” Lance whined as he left the room to join those two in the hall. Keith, quicker than you would have thought, moved and pressed a button to close and lock the door. You heard a muffled ‘hey’ before footsteps that eventually faded away. He sighed. You gave a little laugh.

“That your first choice in hiding?” You giggled.

“Shut up,” he gave you a smile and a glance before flopping down on his bed with a groan. “This is why no one comes in here.”

“Aww I feel so special,” you giggled again as you climbed on top of him. You laid you head down as he dragged you completely on top of him. “By the way, about what Lance said.” Keith looked down to you. “What are we anyway?”

“Well, I’d prefer the privileges of boyfriend all the time. But if you wouldn’t then I don’t mind waiting,” you put yourself up on your arms at his directness.

“What?”

“What?” He repeated.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the closed off feelings guy? What was that?” You look at him bewildered.

“I will not hesitate to leave you here alone,” he gave you a playful glare. “Answer my sentence though.”

“What?”

“Do I get privileges?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you looked away before sitting up fully. “You get to tell everyone though,” you smiled a bit.

“Ugh why,” he groaned and put his head to the side. His hands naturally rested on your hips. You both had been doing this so long you never even took it as something weird with the way you straddled him. You laughed a bit at him when he pinched your sides a bit.

“Deal?”

“Deal,” he smiled before pulling you a little closer and finally doing what he had been wanting to for the past month, finally kissing you.

#voltron #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #Keith x reader #lance #Pidge #hunk #shiro #Allura #Coran #team voltron #voltron fanfiction

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michaellangdonswhore · 3 years

Note

Okay but some ddlg shit like reader goes into this headspace

And

Sit her on his lap, open a picture book and let her point to the pictures as he opens her legs and slide her hand down her panties. Feel her drool on his fingers as he whisper disgusting things in her ear to make her blush skskks

warnings: fingering, lots of mf dirty talk yallllllll

word count: 1.3k

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Y/N sat at the desk in her and Michael’s room at the outpost while he got dressed for bed. She looked over at him, seeing his blue t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Memories of what life was like before the apocalypse came rushing into her head.

She loved Michael, to death, and she trusted him completely. Although, she did still have her worries about the “new world.”

Michael knew about her worries, and didn’t let them go unnoticed. He’d acknowledge them, take them into account. She loved that about him.

He looked at her, noticing she was in her own head. He sighed and walked over to her, causing her to look up and meet his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Y/N smiled. “Its just your old pajamas.”

Michael let out a chuckle.

“Unlike the rest of the people here, we were lucky enough to keep our clothes,” Michael smirked, earning a soft laugh from Y/N. Michael slightly frowned, but then an idea popped into his head. “Wanna get the book?” Y/N’s eyes lit up and she smiled, jumping up from the chair. She rushed over to his drawer, pulling out the picture book she had made for Michael’s birthday. The pictures featured Michael and Y/N throughout the years. She turned back to Michael, who was now seated in the chair. Y/N walked over to him and put the book on the table.

“Where am I gonna sit?” Y/N asked. Michael smiled, Y/N instantly getting the message. She moved towards him, sitting comfortably on his lap. He reached around her to open up the book. They looked at the front page with three pictures on it.

One picture showed Y/N and Michael dressed up for Halloween, with Michael holding the camera and Y/N in the middle of getting ready, posing in the background.

“You looked so hot that night,” Michael whispered in her ear, running his hands up and the sides of her stomach. She chuckled, switching her gaze to the second picture.

She was holding her phone towards the mirror, showing the reflection of Michael holding her tight, head buried in the crook of her neck.

Y/N could feel Michael smile behind her. He hummed, sneaking his hands under her pajama shorts to rub small circles on her thighs. She shivered, becoming putty in his hands.

She looked at the third photo. It was their shadows, kissing.

“I think Mead took that one,” She said, pointing to the picture.

“No. Don’t you remember?” Michael questioned. “We did that timer thing.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded. Michael chuckled, moving his hand farther down and then moving it back up, then repeating the movements again. Y/N let out a shaky breath, earning a cocky smirk from Michael.

“Next page,” Michael said. Y/N flipped the page and saw three more pictures.

The first one was her and Michael posing with a face mask on. The second was Michael lighting a joint for her. The third, her and Michael hugging in front of the sunset.

“Flip to the last one,” Michael muttered in her ear. Butterflies began swarming around in her stomach, thinking about that page. And all the naughty photos she had put in there.

She flipped to the last page, looking at last three photos.

The first, her body covered in hickies, from her hips to her neck.

His hand snaked under her panties, ghosting over her clit.

“Remember what I did to you that night?” Michael asked, pushing his fingers down on her clit. She nodded her head and he began rubbing soft, small circles. “You were covered in marks, left by me. I was so shocked to see that you had taken a picture of it. It’s like you wanted me to remember what I did to you forever.”

The second, another mirror picture of the two of them naked, with one of his hands wrapped tightly around her neck and the other holding the phone.

“Such a dirty little girl, letting me take these pictures of you,” He said, rubbing her clit a little harder. She let out a whimper, moving her hips up to meet his hands, but he pushed her back and clicked his tongue.

The last photo, her spread out beneath him with his dick inside her, a picture that he took.

“Remember what I did to you after seeing these?” Michael hummed, rubbing her clit even faster. She nodded her head and he smiled in response. “I fucked you for hours. You came, squirted, so many fucking times.”

Her cheeks heated up as he rubbed even faster.

“And... oh,” Michael smirked. “You couldn’t walk for days. My cum spilled out of you for days.”

Y/N let out a loud moan at his words as two fingers pushed inside her.

“Oh, you’re so fucking wet,” He said, nibbling on her ear. She felt her juices running down her thighs, and he continued fucking her with his fingers. “Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how wet you are for me? Who gets you this wet?”

“You do, Michael,” She said breathlessly. He pressed a kiss to her neck, thrusting into her faster, sinking his fingers deeper into her. “F-fuck.” “Mm, feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck you with my fingers, right?” Michael raised his eyebrow, and she let out a moan in response. “Such filthy noises coming from you. From your mouth, from your pussy.”

“Yes, yes, faster Michal, please,” She said, sinking back into him, hips moving with his fingers.

Y/N’s entire body was shaking, tingling, about to fucking explode. His words had such an effect on her. His thumb brushed over her clit and then pushed down, rubbing quick circles. She let out another loud high pitched moan, riding his fingers.

“That’s it, my good girl,” He praised. “Ride my fingers like a dirty little slut. You’re so fucking tight around me, clenching so hard. You want to cum, don’t you?”

She nodded, riding his fingers faster as he continued to thrust into her.

“Then cum. Cum around my fingers, it always feels so good when you do,” Michael whispered, her legs shaking. “Cum for me, darling. And look at me when you do, you always look so pretty when you cum.”

She turned her head to face him, her mouth in an ‘O’ shape and her eyebrows furrowed. He pushed his fingers even deeper inside her, hitting the spot that would make her cum almost instantly. He knew her body so well. Y/N’s walls clenched around him, and her moans filled up the room, frequently letting curses slip. She felt herself beginning to release and she arched her back, eyes rolling back into her head as she came, hard, around his fingers.

“Oh, fuck yes, my dirty little slut. You’re spilling all over the place, I can feel you drenching my fingers, you're drenching yourself. Fuck, you’re leaking through my pants. That’s so fucking sexy.” He smirked, riding out her orgasm.

She came down and he slowed his thrusts as she caught her breath, and when she finally did, he pulled out of her. Michael brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Tastes so good,” Michael said. He reached towards her pussy again, collecting more of the juices that coated her. He brought them up to her mouth. “Taste how good.” Y/N opened her mouth and sucked around his fingers and he smiled. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and kissed her passionately, filled with love.

When he pulled away, their arms wrapped around each other.

“I know you have your doubts, but I promise you, this new world will be amazing,” Michael said, nuzzling into her neck. “Our new world.”

1K notes · View notes

rommahh · 3 years

Text

I Carry It In My Heart

Word count: 4.7k

I thank everyone who read part one, it meant so much to me to see the love it got. Heres part two, please comment, like reblog, whatever I just wanna hear your thoughts! I also plan on making smaller blurbs of this universe with fratrry. I have plans for a graduation, wedding, babies, and other random blurbs of their lives. Much love, R.

Part One

Y/N’s drive home was quiet. She drove the whole six hours just listening to her thoughts. Thinking about the future of a relationship she had so much hope for. She wanted this relationship so much and seeing Harry before leaving campus reassured her that maybe just maybe, Harry wanted what she wanted too.

Six hours went by and Y/N finally arrived home. She lived on a very secluded farm with her mom, dad, grandparents, uncles/aunts, and cousins. Everyone lived along the property making the family tight knit. She was scared to reveal to her family that she wasn't with Harry anymore. He grew to be a very important part of the family. Everyone saw how beautiful Harry and Y/N’s relationship was. They could see how close they were and how they just shared a really unique connection with each other.

Getting out of her car, Y/N took a moment to stretch her legs before she was bombarded by her family. Hands were pulling her into hugs, kisses were being planted on her cheek- she never felt more loved in her life. She didn't realize she was crying until her mom held her face between her hands wiping the free flowing tears from the young girl's face. The family left the mother and daughter alone to reconnect.

“What is wrong with my baby?” Her mother cradled her face as she sobs.

“Mommy, we broke up. Me and Harry broke up and- and i'm exhausted from exams, and i'm so hungry!” Y/N’s hysterics caused her mom to chuckle. She helped grab Y/N’s belongings from the trunk and then led the girl into the house. As Y/N wiped the tears from her face she hiccuped trying to catch her breath.

With her bags in her room, Y/N sat at the kitchen table as her mom placed a bowl of chilli in front of her. Her mom sat beside her rubbing her back encouraging her to eat and regain some energy.

“Tell me what happened hon?”

“We got in a really bad fight after he kissed another girl. He basically said that I was overreacting. I tried to tell him that my reaction was merely based on how I feel about our future relationship. He laughed at me and said he wasn't thinking about the future of our relationship. Tha-” She choked up again “-that this wasn't a future he wanted.” Y/N sniffled into her food as her mom guided food into her mouth.

“It's ok hon. Let me tell you something, you and Harry will be fine. It may seem like this is the end but it's not. You will get through this because you guys were made for each other. From the way that you guys know each other's thoughts to the way that you both can read each other with no problem- you two were meant to be. Me and your pa went through our own issues but look at us now. We are solid. Baby, you two will be solid.” Y/N’s mom smoothed the hair on her daughter's head smiling at the young girl.

Y/N thought about her mothers words. Hearing her mom say those things about her relationship made her feel a little better. Her mother kissed her on the forehead and told her to get to bed and get some rest.

Y/N walked into her room and immediately her eyes were drawn to the gift Harry got her. She didn't remember bringing it in her room but there it sat in all of its glory. The gold wrapping paper on the box contrasted with the dark wood of her dresser. The envelope adorned with Harry's name written in cursive.

She was tempted to open the gift but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to even touch the gift. She kept thinking about the moment she shared with Harry in the parking lot. How he made time to see her before she left. How he found time to get her a gift and bring it to her. She grabbed the gift, shoving it into the top drawer of the dresser.

As Y/N lied in her bed that night, wrapped in a blanket Harry bought her, she couldn't run her mind off. She wanted to be with Harry but she was scared of his lack of commitment. She doesn't understand his sudden lack of commitment. She mentioned marrying him in the future and he freaked out on her. It hurt to know that in a quick second, he could change his mind.

Closing her eyes she went to sleep thinking about her brown haired, green eyed boy whose heart she carries with her at all times.

Y/N felt better to be back home on the farm. This semester had mentally drained her to the point where she felt like she had nothing within herself to give. She sat in the barn behind the house watching the chickens run around as she remembered the first time Harry visited the farm.

“No Harry, you just grab them from underneath. Like cup your hands and grab!” Y/N hollered to her boyfriend as he chased chickens around trying to grab them. He couldnt get his hands on a chicken but hearing his girlfriend laughing made it all worth it. Here he was dressed in overalls while chasing chickens.

“Bubs, I cant get one.” He pouted walking back over to Y/N.

“You don't have the talent I have.” She walked over to a resting chicken and grabbed it with ease. Tucking the chicken under her arm, she scratched the top of the chicken's head and walked over to where Harry was standing in shock.

“You are something else!” She set the chicken down, watching it run away. Harry grabbed her arm, twirling her around to face him. She placed her arms atop his shoulders, fingers playing with the small curls of his head. His arms wrapped around her waist squeezing her close to him.

It was a beautiful morning on the farm. Fall break on full blast and instead of Harry going back home, he just decided to come see where his girlfriend lives. They were sophomores now, entering almost a year of dating. This had been one the best almost years of their lives.

Harry placed a gentle kiss on her plush lips. She smiled, kissing him back.

“I love you Harry.” She said, staring at his eyes. His eyes opened wide. He stepped back from her and then started jumping up and down out of happiness. He threw her over his shoulder and started running through the blades of grass like the chickens he was trying to catch earlier. Setting her down on her feet she giggled at his antics.

“I cant believe you just said that. Im so fucking in love with you. So in love.” He said squishing her cheeks together, puckering her lips and smacking a wet kiss on her mouth.

“Ew Harry gross.” she giggled as he continued to place wet slobbery kisses over her face.

Y/N was so happy to bring Harry home. She wanted to show her family this new boy that had completely captivated her heart. He fit in with her family perfectly, making jokes, helping with dinner, playing with the little ones. He was family.

Walking into the house, she was greeted with the familiar smell of her grandma's famous peach crumble. She went into the kitchen sitting at one the stools watching her grandmother whip around the kitchen baking a slew of desserts.

“Hey lovebug, you go out and see your chickies?” Her grandmother asked, never losing focus of what she was doing.

“I did, they are all growing up so quick.” Y/N laid her head down on the table staring out of the window. Head fuzzy with anxiety and muddled thoughts.

“What happened to Harry?” Y/N’s head popped off of the table as she looked at her grandmother in confusion.

“How did you know something was up?”

“You're my grandbaby, I know everything about you. You've also been moping around my house so I knew something had happened.” She took a bowl down from the cabinets scooping a hot piece of peach crumble in the bowl and placed it in front of Y/N.

“Yeah, me and Harry split up. We just had a bad fight that put us in a weird place. He cheated on me.” She scooped crumble into her mouth trying to distract herself from her sadness.

“Oh love bug. I'm really sorry about that. Did you guys talk at all?” Placing a pie in the oven, her grandmother took a seat next to Y/N stealing a bite of crumble.

“He actually said goodbye to me before I came home. He gave me a Christmas gift too. I don't know, we didn't really say much. I miss him though. He was drunk when he cheated on me, which isn't an excuse but I think he was taken advantage of. I'm not mad about him cheating on me. I was mad at how he reacted to me. Like I was in the wrong for thinking about our relationship in the long run.”

“I understand. Can I be honest with you?” Crumble gone now, Y/N turned her body to face her grandmother. She shook her head to say yes. “You and Harry will be ok. It feels like the end right now but it isn't. It really isn't. I watched you two all of that one break and I saw a resilient couple who were going to go so far. This bump in the road can be fixed. Baby that boy looks at you like you are the whole universe.” You blushed at her words.

“What do I do then?”

“Well, I think you guys should enjoy this break. Take the time to reflect on what your relationship was and what it could be. Harrys going to go home and be surrounded by family as you are now, just let yourself enjoy that time. When he comes back for school, meet up again and talk. You both are adults- you know what to do.” You took in your grandmother's words. She always knew what to say.

“Why is it that you and mom always give me advice over food?” You laughed as she winked at you kissing you on the cheek.

“Food always makes people listen.”

When Wednesday finally arrived, Harry couldn't have been happier to go home. He had been on campus all alone and just feeling like shit. Maybe it was karma for how he treated Y/N. His heart felt hollow and even though he saw her before she left campus, he knew they still weren't ok. He wanted nothing more than to just be ok with his girl. The girl who makes him feel happiest on his darkest days. He doesn't understand how he would have ruined something so perfect.

At his gate at the airport, Harry sat staring at his phone waiting for something. He didn't know what he was waiting for. He didn't deserve anything, especially because of how bad he messed up. He didn't plan on seeing Y/N last friday before she left but he didn't want to go home without seeing her face. He also spent all night writing her a letter that laid down his thoughts. He also wanted to give her a gift. He bought it at the beginning of the semester back home. He knew it was perfect for her the second he saw it.

“Welcome to British Airways, we are now boarding all priority passengers.”

Harry stood up collecting his carry on and started walking to the line forming in front of the gate. He checked his phone again. Nothing.

As the line moved forward. He checked again. Nothing.

He scanned his ticket. Checked again. Nothing.

Situating himself in his seat on the airplane, Harry didn't even bother checking his phone knowing nothing was there. He clicked his seatbelt over his lap and opened the window beside him to look outside.

His phone buzzing pulled him out of his thoughts. His breath hitched, heart lurching. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he turned the screen on.

To: Harry, from: Bubs<3

Have a safe flight Harry

Harry's eyes welled with tears.

To: Bubs<3, from: Harry

Thank you, love. It means a lot.

To: Harry, from: Bubs<3

I miss you Harry

A few of those tears tipped over the edge now rolling down his face.

To: Bubs<3, from: Harry

I miss you so much baby

And that was it. But that was all Harry needed to feel something again.

Y/N didn't know what compelled her to text Harry. She knows her grandmother told her to take some time but she just wanted to reach out to him. She wanted him to know that she was still here. She was still thinking of him and still wanted this. Whatever ‘this’ was.

Christmas eve came quickly, Y/N’s house filled with family members, food, and little children running around wreaking havoc. Y/N was sitting in her room staring at the drawer where the gift from Harry hid. She was scared to open it. Pushing that fear to the side, she walked over the drawer opening it and grabbing the box and envelope. She put the gift in her purse before grabbing her keys. She couldn't open the gift here. She needed to go somewhere quiet.

She said a quick goodbye to her parents and left the house in a hurry. She found herself parked at a small store's parking lot a few miles away from her house. She kept the car on for the heat but turned off the christmas tunes she had playing low in the background.

She opened her purse to pull the envelope out. Carefully ripping the top of the envelope she pulled out a stack of items. In the envelope were four photos and a handwritten letter. She saved the letter for last.

The first photo was of Harry and Y/N sitting on a bean bag in the library. Harry had the camera outstretched above their heads, Y/N with her face buried in a text book. This was taken in their first year during their first exam week. They were not exclusive yet but their friends knew how close they were- there was no one coming between the two of them. Y/N had been so stressed that week so Harry invited her to the library to eat lunch and study together. He helped her through some science homework which helped dramatically on her exam.

The second image was of Harry and Y/N at their favorite restaurant off campus. It was taken during their sophomore year during their one year anniversary. It was the week before spring break and they had just finished a round of midterms. Harry surprised her with a trip to her favorite restaurant. The waiter offered to take the picture because of how adorable the couple looked. In the picture they were holding hands, smiling wide to the camera. Y/N eyes welled up at how happy they looked together.

The third pic was taken during an event on campus at the end of their freshman year. It was a piece and love festival where different clubs hosted fun activities in hopes of promoting unity on campus. In the picture, Harry and Y/N were holding up braided string bracelets with beads that said their partners name. They always wore those bracelets after that day. Y/N looked down at the slightly faded bracelet on her wrist. Harrys name on her wrist reminding her that he is always with her no matter what. Cheesy as it may be but the cheap string with plastic was something she would never part with.

The last picture was taken on Y/N’s farm. It was by the barn where Harry and Y/N were chasing chickens. It was taken from a high angle from afar. Harry had her on his shoulder and they were both visibly laughing. They had matching overalls with embroidery done by Y/N's aunt. On the back of the picture, Y/N could recognize Harry's handwriting as it said, “Your Grandma emailed me this picture when we got back to campus. She said that she couldn't help but take the picture when she saw how happy you looked.” Y/N laughed at his sloppy handwriting and her grandmother's words.

The last piece of the envelope was the letter. Y/N slowly unraveled the folded paper, smoothing out the crinkles. Taking a deep breath she began reading.

Y/N,

In my eyes, our future is filled with love. I see us buying a small house in your home town because I know you love home. I know you also said you may want to live in a city so if our plans were to change, I could see us living in a small apartment, decorated by you of course, with bookshelves that towered to the ceiling and many plush blankets littering the rooms. I see us working hard during the day and enjoying each other during the evening when we come home. I see bubble baths and fun new dinner recipes. I see me bringing you flowers to brighten your day from a long day of work. I see us travelling to all of the places you have pinned on your “for the future” pinterest board. I see us having a small wedding, my family, your family, some friends and that's it. I'd let you do whatever you like for the wedding because I want to see you happy.

I see little ones. Direct copies of you and me running around in the backyard as we try chasing them and tickling them. I see bedtime stories and fun days at the park. Picnics in the meadow and swimming in the lake. Catching chickens and rough housing with the goats. Pasta sauce around the mouth after a good meal. Frozen yogurt with all of the toppings. I see everything with you. There's not a moment where I don't see us together. I think about our graduation and where we will be after graduation.

I see a future with you and I was an ass to say otherwise. You are everything to me. I should be doing more for our relationship like I used to. I want to take you out on more dates and shower you in gifts because you deserve it. I love you so much. Please don't give up on me and all of the memories we've created. I want it all with you.

School has been hurting me pretty bad and I took it out on you. I cheated on you because I was too drunk to think properly. I hurt the only person whose opinion I hold higher than anyone else's. We built a beautiful relationship of trust and boundaries and I ruined it for no reason. I want to do better. Please let me show you that I can do better.

I found this poem that reminded me of you. I know you like poems and this poem speaks for me wholly.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Have a lovely break and I hope to be able to see you after.

Love Harry.

His letter left the girl speechless. He said everything she wanted to hear. Looking at her phone she checked the time.

7:36 pm

Its about 12 am in london.

Without a second thought she opened Harry's facetime profile and pressed the call button.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

“Love? Are you alright? Did something happen?” Harry was quick to answer, looking half awake and flustered. Y/N broke down in tears immediately. “Y/N are you ok, baby?”

“Harry.” She wailed. It was embarrassing but all of the pent emotion she was holding in finally breached. She couldn't stop crying. Harry sat up from his laying down position in bed holding the phone closer to his face to inspect his girl.

“It's ok bubs, whatever it is, it's ok. I promise it's ok.” Harry tries consoling the girl. Her tears reduced to small sniffles.

“I read your letter Harry. It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I want it all with you too. I've always wanted it with you. Since the day we met Harry.” He let out a watery laugh so overwhelmed with emotions. She wiped her face of tears looking back at the letter next to her.

“Y/N I love you so much. I do. I know I'm not that good at expressing my emotions but I do want a future with you. I'm hurting knowing I hurt the best thing that's ever happened to me.” His tears continued to flow freely.

“It's ok Harry. I'm not mad anymore. I'm not hurt either I promise. I think I was more upset that we were done. I don't want us to be done. I really don't.”

“I don't want us to be done either. I really want to marry you. Maybe not right now but in time I wanna get married.” He paused, wiping his face. “I wanna get married on your farm, maybe put the chickies in little tuxedos.” She giggled at his proposition.

“They would hate you even more if you did that.” They shared a laugh and then some silence. “I guess it's technically Christmas over there huh? Well Merry Christmas H.”

“It is christmas isn't it? Merry Christmas bubs. Did you open the box?” She grabbed the box next to her to show Harry shaking her head. She unwrapped the paper and revealed a box with a logo she wasn't familiar with.

“What's this?” He encouraged her to keep opening the gift. Lifting the top of the box she let out a loud gasp upon seeing a beautiful gold bracelet sitting on a satin pillow. She placed her phone on the phone stand on her dashboard so she could have both hands to look at the bracelet. The bracelet was gold and thin with a nameplate in the middle. Engraved on the nameplate was Harry's name.

“You went silent on me...Do you like it?” Y/N couldn't stop looking at the bracelet in her hand.

“Harry...It's gorgeous. It's so gorgeous.” She whispered. She slid the perfectly fit bracelet on her hand watching it fall in front of her handmade bracelet. The two bracelets adorned her wrist perfectly. “I love you so much H.”

“I love you too, I do. I can't wait to see you in person and talk.” He replies with his heart clenching in a good way, watching his girl smile happily at her gift.

“Om bubby, I'll let you go to sleep. I love you, spend time with your family and then come back to me as the same Harry I fell in love with.” He smiled, whispering goodnight and hanging up.

Going home that night, Y/N’s family watched her come back into the house walking lighter on her feet and looking happier than she did when she came home from school. She showed her bracelet off to her parents as her grandmother made her a plate of food. She smiled at everyone and talked the whole night. Her grandmother watched from afar feeling her heart fill with joy at her granddaughter's happiness.

As Christmas break went on Harry and Y/N continued to keep their relationship moving slowly. Only calling each other once a day and giving each the much needed space to heal with their respective family. Y/N facetimed him on christmas giving him a youtuber esq. Haul of all of her gifts while he laughed at her silliness. He did the same thing with half the enthusiasm.

As move in day approached, Y/N felt herself becoming worried about her relationship. She worried that when she saw Harry, their relationship would slowly deteriorate. Little did she know that she had no reason to be so afraid. Harry was on his flight back to school ready to hug and hold his girl. He was ready to reunite and be the couple they used to be. He was ready to be a better partner for his girl.

“Alright girly, looks like we got everything squished in your car. Are you sure you've got everything?” Y/N’s mom asked sarcastically. Y/N huffed shoving another bag in the passenger seat.

“Yup that should be it.”

“Ok, well you give me a hug and get going.” Y/N rushed into her mom's arms. Her mom kissed her on the forehead and left Y/N and her grandmother to talk on their own.

“Bye grandma, i'm going to miss you.” Her grandmother held her arms tight.

“You get back to campus and see that boy ok? You go and be in love. You too are old enough to know what you want and this relationship is something you obviously both want.”

Kissing her grandma goodbye, she got in her car and started her drive back to school.

It only took Y/N one trip from her car to her dorm to unload all of her belongings. She was able to snag one of the big trolleys to push her things inside. She watched as friends reunited, she even said hi to a few of her friends but her mind was set on one person. She grabbed her wallet and phone from her dorm and left quickly on a journey to get to Harry’s frat.

The air was cool but Y/N felt warm from how quickly she was booking it to Harry. Harry, just like Y/N, immediately left his room to see Y/N. Having not seen her in a month and some of exam week- he couldn't wait to see her. Harry saw Y/N’s familiar face walking down the sidewalk of his frat and he stopped in his tracks. She smiled her bright, beautiful smile before running over to where he stood. Her arms hooked around his neck as his arms adjusted around her waist. He stumbled a bit from the force of her hug but stood his ground nonetheless.

She held him tight, legs bound around his waist, a few stray tears falling from her eyes. He held her just as tightly, hands tightly holding her thighs and back.

“Hi bubby.” She said in his ear, face burrowed in his neck. He set her down and reached for her face.

‘Hi baby.” She blushed at his nickname. They looked into each other's eyes and time froze like it always did between them. Y/N broke theri moment by pulling his face to hers. They kissed like they hadnt kissed in years. To them the time they spent away from each other felt like years. Their lips fit together like puzzle pieces. Pulling apart, Harry stared down at his heart, tears begging to be free. He opened his mouth to say something and she stopped him.

“It's ok Harry. My baby, it's ok. We are ok.”

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

Taglist: marlananicole17

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

323 notes · View notes

arrowflier · 3 years

Note

do you write AUs?

because i wish you'd write a fic with magic 👀 either with both or only one of them having magic ❤️

Oh, dear sweet anon. You'd never guess it from what I've been posting, but AUs are my bread and butter, and fantasy my genre of choice. I just don't do as much of it because I care more about getting it right, and it's so much harder to convey in short glimpses.

So thank you for this, and here goes nothing! Might not be the type of magic you were thinking, but it’s where my brain ended up.

Milkovich Magic

When he's just a little boy, Mickey Milkovich is the chattiest kid on the street. He stands out front of their rundown house and waves at people passing by, tells them stories, wishes for them good things. His father hates it, but his mother thinks it's lovely. She sits next to Mickey in a broken lawn chair, taking turns smiling at her son and at the strangers and neighbors passing by, waving Terry away when he comes too close to interfering.

But she never says a word herself, unless it's to Mickey.

Until one day, when Mickey sees a family walking down the street, and waves frantically at two boys around his age, one with fuzzy brown curls, one with bright red locks. The bright boy turns toward him and smiles, and Mickey feels something shift inside himself.

"Momma," he calls back toward the house. "Did you see?"

"See what, Mikhailo?" she responds, voice oddly cautious in a way that Mickey has long since become accustomed to.

"That boy," he tells her, feeling light and happy. "He's going to be my friend."

The air shifts as the words leave his mouth, seeming to swirl around him. He shivers as it strokes against his skin, leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake, and takes a shaky breath, thinking of the boy's shy smile.

"Mikhailo, no!" his mother cries, stumbling from her seat to fall on her knees at his feet, clutching his arms with claw-like fingers. He snaps out of his thoughts and stares down at her, terrified, as the feeling leaves him.

His terror grows when his father slams open the front door and yells, "What did the boy do now?"

His mother's eyes are wide and scared on his face, but her voice is calm and firm when she answers.

"Mikhailo has done nothing," she states simply, and his skin begins to tingle again. "You noticed nothing," she adds, and Mickey watches as his father shakes his head and wanders back inside without so much as a backwards glance. Then the air is still again.

"Come, Mikhailo," his mother says next, "that's enough for today." And he follows her up the broken steps and into their home, mind whirring, trying to make sense of what happened.

“Words have power, little one,” his mother whispers to him later that night, as they sip hot chocolate in the kitchen after Terry goes to bed. The air smells of milk and burned sugar and his mother’s perfume, and her voice wraps around him like a hug, pressing her words into his skin.

“We have to be careful,” she speaks quietly. Her hand is still warm with the heat from her mug when she brushes his hair from his face, lets her palm rest on his cheek. “When the things you say become the truth, you have to choose your words wisely.”

“Like when I say you’re pretty?” Mickey asks with childish innocence, and his mother laughs, a soft tinkling sound like windchimes in the rain.

“Not quite,” she tells him with a gentle smile. “It takes intent, too.”

“Intent,” he repeats dutifully, then asks, “what’s that?”

His mother’s voice drops even further, serious and firm. “It’s the desire to make change, Mikhailo,” she says, “and it’s dangerous. You never know what path that change might take.” She sounds sad, like she does whenever his father comes home, loud and stumbling when he shoves through the door in the middle of the night. Mickey doesn’t like it.

And he doesn’t understand, either. He’s too young. Too new to the world to see how change could be a bad thing. So he agrees, like a good son does, and doesn’t argue when his mother presses a kiss to his head and sends him off to sleep in a haze of lavender and chocolate.

A few months later, when he hears his father yelling from the next room, hears the crash as his mother hits the floor for the third time that week, he dares to speak aloud the words struggling to escape his heart, despite her warnings.

“Mama is safe,” he whispers to himself in the darkness of the room he shares with his baby sister, who’s curled up against his side, face still wet with the tears that sent her into sleep. “No one can hurt her anymore.”

He knows he got it right when he can feel the wish leave him, a heavy weight lifting from his chest as his desires take form. He can feel the air, heavy with intent, as it brushes over his skin, as it moves like a summer breeze through the open window above his head, bypassing the locked bedroom door. He’s suddenly more tired than he thinks he’s ever been when it’s gone, and he falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years, comforted by the knowledge that he had put change into the world.

The next morning, he wakes to his sister sobbing and pushing loose fists into his chest as she tells him that their mother is dead.

After that, he stops talking so much.

---

When Mickey is eight years old, he's the quietest boy in class. He gets a reputation as a troublemaker, refusing to answer questions or make friends, no matter the effort that others put in.

Eventually, they stop trying, and he's glad.

Until a new boy shows up, and almost ruins everything.

His name is Ian Gallagher, and the first thing Mickey notices as he walks into the room for the very first time, a worn backpack hanging from his skinny shoulder, is his hair.

It's bright red.

And Mickey remembers the day he learned what he was, the day he started down the path that killed his mother, the day that he declared to the world that the redheaded boy would be his and the world started to listen.

He wanted nothing to do with him.

So of course, Gallagher sat right behind him, and tapped on his shoulder, and asked him for a pencil. And try as he might, Mickey could not muster the intent to make him leave.

It probably wouldn't have mattered if he did, he thought. The damage had been done years ago.

But he does manage to speak. And he hears his own voice for the first time in ages outside the confines of the bedroom he still shares with Mandy. It's rough with disuse, lending an edge to his words that never used to be there.

"Ask me again, I'll stab you with it," he threatens, then stops, eyes blown wide and fearful by his own statement. But the rush of air never comes, nor that strange tingle, and all he can feel is the tickle of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

He's so relieved he could cry.

"Are you ok?" the Gallagher boy asks, and Mickey tries to snarl, to make him back away.

"Shut up," he orders. And then he spins back around in his seat to hide his grin.

Because he can talk, after all, without causing terrible things. The trick, he knows now, is just not to mean it.

---

When Mickey is fifteen, he's loud and brash. He throws words around like they're meaningless, because to him, they are.

They have to be.

And it's working out fine, really. As long as he swallows down his feelings, keeps them locked up tight in his chest, it doesn't matter what words leave his lips.

Until, one day after school, he finally loses control.

And of course, it's because of Ian fucking Gallagher.

Because Ian keeps trying to be Mickey's friend, and Mickey knows it isn't real. He knows what he did. So when Ian joins his little league team in 4th grade, Mickey gets himself thrown out. And when Ian tries to partner with him for the 6th grade science fair, Mickey gets himself suspended instead. Every year is a new attempt, and every year, Mickey manages to shut it down.

He's ready to do it again on the first day of their sophomore year, when Ian calls his name outside the old brick school building.

"Hey, Mickey!" he tries, waving gangly arms to catch his attention. "Mickey, over here!"

Mickey studiously ignores him, like always, until he hears the smack of books hitting the ground.

"Whatcha callin' him for, eh?" comes a voice Mickey recognizes as one of his cousins. There's another rough sound, and a curse as Ian himself is pushed to the ground. Mickey's cousin laughs.

"What a pussy," he snickers. When Mickey turns around, his cousin waves him over with a wicked grin. "Ey, Mick, you know this guy?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before he nudges Ian in the side with a dirty boot. "He keeps callin' for ya, think he's got a crush or somethin'."

Ian's face is red, and his jaw is clenched, but he looks away when Mickey catches his eyes. He looks embarrassed, and maybe sad, and before Mickey knows what he's doing, he speaks from the place he always keeps under lock and key.

"You're gonna leave him alone," he rumbles, a breeze picking up behind him. "You're never gonna touch him again." A few leaves flutter at his feet as his intention builds. His cousin doesn't notice, but Ian does, and Mickey finds himself staring into emerald green eyes as he says, "You noticed nothing," just like his mother did all those years ago, and lets the words go.

His cousin blinks at him, suddenly lost, then down at Ian. "The fuck are you doing down there man?" he asks, and almost offers a hand before awkwardly pulling it back. "Eh, whatever," he mutters, and stumbles off to join the line for the bus.

"What was that?" Ian asks breathlessly, and Mickey shrugs, thumbing his nose. Inside, he's horrified by his slip, but all he says is, "nothing."

And scared or not of how it felt, that rush of cool air tingling against his skin as he spoke, he can't deny it felt good.

It feels even better when Ian smiles.

---

When Mickey is seventeen, he has a friend, and he thinks he might have to stop talking again.

Ian is around all the time, now. They sit together at school, and hang out at the Gallagher house on weekends. They go to movies, and baseball games, and tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

And deep down, Mickey knows what this is. He told the world that Ian would be his friend, and so he is. It's nothing more than that.

But when Ian starts talking about the guy he's seeing, starts blowing Mickey off to spend time with him instead, it still makes Mickey's heart hurt.

Somewhere along the line, between avoiding Ian and letting his life revolve around him, Mickey had started wanting more.

It's in those moments, sitting on the sofa with their thighs pressed together, the strawberry scent of Ian's shampoo lingering in the air around them as he waxes poetic about the restaurant his boyfriend took him to, when Mickey fights himself the most.

It would be so easy, he knows. So easy to open his mouth and let the words out. Ian, he could say, you love me. You want me. Leave him, Ian. Be with me instead.

He doesn't. He wouldn't. But he could, and knowing that kills him.

Instead, he starts pulling back. Cancels plans before Ian can. It hurts, but he does it, because Ian deserves to be free from the wish Mickey made when he was a child.

Ian notices, of course he does. He ignores it, mostly, until the night Mickey opens the door to find him standing there, sweaty and scowling.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks Mickey immediately. "Why are you shutting me out?"

Mickey swallows. "Don't know what you're talkin about," he lies, wishing desperately that it were true. He feels a zing of power go through him, but there's no escape for it; his words don't work on himself.

"Bullshit," Ian accuses, stepping over the threshold to bring them chest to chest. "Just tell me, Mick," he urges. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't," Mickey offers breathlessly. "I really can't, Ian."

It doesn't deter him; if anything, it makes him angrier. "What's gonna happen if you do, huh?" he challenges, shoving Mickey back until he hits the wall.

And Mickey can't take it anymore.

"I don't know!" he shouts, tearing at his hair. "I don't fucking know, Ian, ok? I've been trying not to say it for so long, I don't know what will happen if I do!"

It takes the wind out of Ian's sails; he visibly deflates. His eyes turn soft, instead of angry, and there's a quiver in his voice when he asks again. "Tell me what, Mickey?" he whispers.

Mickey won't say the words. Instead, he surges toward Ian and presses their mouths together in a rough, clumsy kiss.

It lasts only a moment before Ian pulls away, and Mickey tries not to die inside. Forces himself not to fix it. But a second later, there's a beaming grin on Ian's bruised lips, and he's saying, "is that all it was?" and leaning in again.

---

When Mickey is nineteen, he has a boyfriend, and he says what's in his heart.

They’re alone in the Gallagher house, a rare enough occurrence already, and they’re tangled together in Ian’s tiny single bed. “Ian,” he whispers when they part for breath. “Ian,” he moans as that mouth trails down his neck and behind his ear, pressing kisses in its wake. “Ian,” he cries out as he clenches fingers in bright red hair, holding on for dear life as they rock together.

“Fuck, I love you Mick,” Ian murmurs against his heated skin, and Mickey stops still.

It takes a minute for Ian to catch on, another for him to pull back, eyes questioning and nervous. “Is that okay?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Mickey licks his lips, and tries the words out himself, like a dare. “You love me,” he whispers, eyes locked on Ian’s own.

Nothing happens.

There’s no shift in the air around them, no new goosebumps beyond the ones Ian caused himself. There’s no weight in Mickey’s chest trying to get out.

There’s just Ian.

Ian, with his copper hair shining in the light from the window. Ian, surrounding him in the scent of strawberrie shampoo and sweat and cheap cologne from the corner store that he only wore when they were together. Ian, who was watching hi, waiting, biting his red bottom lip and trying not to move.

Mickey laughs, and pulls him closer, kissing him again, feeling Ian smile with relief against his lips. “You fucking love me,” he repeats, just because he can. The words can’t change something that’s already true. “I fucking love you too,” Mickey says.

And he does.

#daily speedwrite #<-still calling it tgat even though it took forever #because if it wasn't I'd completely redo it before sharing #gallavich #fanfic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fantasy au #fic request #i just got home I'm so tired😭#I hope it's vaguely coherent #tw:domestic abuse

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squigglylinesdotthei · 3 years

Text

Make a Mess

Word count:1542

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings:18+ only please, Sexual situations? (idk really how to tag this), Teasing, Premature ejac?, embarrassed!Sam

A/N:So idk what this is, or where it came from, it's not really edited, but it made me giggle while writing it so please enjoy! Drop a request, If you’re wondering who I am writing for, send an ask.

(GIF not mine, divider is mine.)

‘She literally has no idea what she does to me, does she?’ he thought as he watched Y/n work around the library. Your hair up in a messy bun, long tendrils falling around your face. Those tiny little shorts you only seemed to wear on cleaning day, and that tight gray tank top that barely hits above her belly button. He bit his lip when you bent over a table to grab some books, unknowingly putting your ass on full display for him.

‘God, if only I could just…’ He lifted his hand subtly by his side, imagining the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers. The image of bending you over that table playing in his head, the memory of your velvet warmth wrapping around him, the way your body practically pulls him in. He feels himself grow hard in his jeans.

“Sam,” you called, god he loved when you said his name, “Baby can you come help me real quick?” you called over your shoulder. He looked up, you had a stack of books on one arm, and you were reaching up with your other trying to put a book on a high shelf. Your shirt had ridden up giving him a glimpse of the white lace bra you were wearing ‘Fuck baby, thank whoever the hell decided to drop you in my life’ he thought, his jeans now even tighter.

“Yeah,” he stood from his seat with a soft smile and walked towards you, subtly trying to adjust himself in his pants. He came up behind you and rested a hand on your waist as he reached up and effortlessly pushed the book into place. You drop back onto the flats of your feet, accidentally brushing your ass down on his already throbbing cock. Biting his lip again to hold back a moan that had threatened to escape his throat, covering it with a cough.

“Thanks,” you said as you turned and stood on your toes again to plant a small kiss on his jaw. To you, it was a small, chaste kiss of appreciation. To Sam the feeling of your lips practically on his neck, so close to that spot that makes him go weak in the knees, had his once throbbing member now aching, leaking with precum, and straining painfully against his zipper.

“No problem,” he smiled down at you before pulling away and sitting back down in his chair, trying to relive some of the pressure of his jeans. A few moments passed and Sam still couldn't stop thinking about you. Your lips on his skin, and how they’d feel wrapped around his cock, the small little whimpers you let out right before you cum.

He continued to watch you, dirty thoughts still going through his head, when you walked past again. Stopping when you noticed his empty glass and plate sitting on the table by him. You leaned over the table on the opposite side of Sam and reached across the table for his dishes. The second Sam looked up, he knew he was a goner. The angle you were leaning at gave him a direct view down your shirt, giving him an almost full view of your perfect tits.

“O-oh Fuck,” He stuttered out as he came in his pants. Like a fucking teenager, eyes screwing shut, breathing heavy as his body flushed and tensed up where he was sitting, hands shooting to his crotch as he shot up from his seat. You on the other hand had no idea what had just happened and jumped back at the sudden outburst from Sam.

“Sam, you okay?” you asked as you reached a hand towards him, still confused as to what was happening. He jumped back grabbing his laptop and held it in front of the very obvious wet spot on his pants, hoping you wouldn't notice.

“Mmhmm, yep, everything’s good, I, uh, I just remembered I left something in uh, in the bedroom,” He quipped out in a stuttered breath. Making his was to the door quickly before slipping out, leaving you standing there, confused, plate and empty glass in hand.

“Oh, o-ok,” the words die on her breath, and she makes her way to the kitchen.

Sam let out a breath as he plopped down on the couch in the dean cave and let out a breath after re-emerging from the bedroom with a new pair of jeans. He opened his laptop and stared at the screen with a small scowl on his face.

“Everything ok Sammy?” Dean asked, sitting down in his chair and passing Sam a beer. Raising an eyebrow when he shut his laptop and let out another breath and took a drink.

“It's Y/N, I guess,” he started but trailed off, what was he supposed to say, his girlfriend made him mess his pants like a prepubescent teen, when she wasn't even doing anything sexual.

“What's up? I thought you really liked her,” Dean began. But before he could continue Sam cut him off.

“NO! No, I do, almost too much,” he added the last part in a mumble. Looking down at his hands.

“You wanna elaborate buddy?” Dean leaned down and tilted his head. Sam looked at his expression, looking for some hint that Dean would make fun of him for this. Finding none, he lets out another breath.

“Well, today, she was cleaning the library, and she wasn’t even doing anything, but she just looked… so good,” he started, “but looking at her, thinking about her, I- I came dude” he finally got out, “Like in my jeans… and then I just left her standing there, confused, I don't even think she knows what happened,” he looked over at Dean, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment.

When he finally looked up at Dean, he was smirking. “Well” He started with a chuckle, “I think you should go talk to her, she probably thinks she did something wrong when you shot up and ran outta there like a bat outta hell.” he finishes his sentence and takes a drink from his own beer.

As if all the Gods and Fate herself were on Dean’s side, your voice rang out from around the corner looking for him.

“Sam? Sammy, baby?” you called out.

“In here,” He called back, trying not to sound like he was just talking about the mess he made earlier. “Everything okay?” he asked you as you finally came into view. Freshly showered and changed into a pair of black leggings and one of his old flannels.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you stepped in front of him to situate next to him on the couch, he lifted his arm, allowing you to curl into his side. “You kinda left in a bit of a hurry,” you finished, finding a sudden interest in the buttons on his shirt.

“I’m going to find snacks,” Dean hopped up and headed out the door, giving Sam a pointed look before disappearing around the corner.

“Sam?” You pressed again, leaning back and looking at him. “Is everything okay? Did i do somethi-”

“No! God no,” He fully looks at you cupping your face in his hands. “Nothing bad,” He smiled softly before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Oh,” your voice came out small, unsure of what that exactly meant. You creased your brow and looked down at his chest fiddling with the buttons on the shirt you were wearing

Sam looked at you, Dean’s words ringing in his head still. “Y/N,” He sighed, “You are so hot,” he began, his face heating up at the conversation again. “like beyond hot sometimes,” he looked down at you, still looking down. He brought his hand to your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. “And today, with you in those tiny little shorts, and that little tank top… its like you were teasing me and you didn't even know it”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you started but Sam cut you off again.

“Y/N,” he chuckled, he should be the one apologizing, he was the one who ran off. “Seeing you run about, accidentally flashing your bra, bending over in those shorts, it was too much and I… kinda… came in my pants.” He finished his sentence and looked at you, he could feel his neck and ears burning.

“Wait?” you looked at him, stifling a giggle, “That's why you just flew outta there?” you questioned.

“Well yeah, I was embarrassed, I had just shot my load like a hormonal teen, because my girlfriend was showing too much thigh?” He chuckled leaning back against the couch again, relaxing back tan tossing his arm over the couch.

“Well, don’t be,” you quipped, curling back into his side. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I kind of consider it a complement,” you added as you laid your head on his chest. His arm came down and wrapped around you causing a smile to stretch across your face.

“Who wants popcorn!” Dean bellowed out rounding the corner with two big bowls, passing one to you and Sam before settling in his own seat again and flipping on some old western movie.

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader smut #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural smut

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semischarmed · 4 years

Text

Detour, Part 3

For a few still moments, Scott isn’t really sure what he is looking at. His unconscious friend Alex stands frozen in his previous position, head still pointing upwards, mouth agape. Aside from some light breathing, the only movement of yours that Scott can make out is Alex’s tongue-your first acquisition-twitching slightly. Your tongue then slowly dances around Alex’s lips, greedily tasting the new vessel. Delicious. Your new eyes shoot open, a little bloodshot from Alex’s last performance, and focus on Scott. They narrow, and you make your new, plump lips follow, closing slowly into a smile. “Mmmmm .... Scott, you sick fuck” Alex’s body speaks in half delirium with the vocal cords you borrow from him. You pull a little more of his strings, and his arms stir. In one unnatural motion, like someone moving their arms for the first time in their life- which, granted, this really is your first time- you clumsily run shaking fingers through your new body’s hair. Dread paints Scott’s face.

In his brain, you feel Alex together with you. You push his essence aside to assert dominance over your new bod. Surprisingly, he puts up less of a fight than you expect- no fight at all, actually. You just let a little of Alex leak out of you, which culminates in the radiant smile your body greets Scott with.

“You’re really fucking sick, Scott.” You say with your Alex vocal cords, completely shifting the mood. You start feeling around your new face before you look back at him. “What kind of friend does this?” You lace that word with a poison that Scott has never heard from his friend’s mouth and you can tell it stings him a little.

“You-you’re not fucking Alex, faggot!” he shouts angrily.

Unfazed, you continue. “Now, that’s just plain wrong. I’m fucking Alex right fucking now, with his own body from his insides” you sadistically laugh with your old voice. It’s a little out of place coming out of Alex. “Here, come take a look.” You decide also take a little recording for yourself.

God he looks so good. You can’t believe you’re in control of this little slice of heaven. Or hell. This tight bod runs hot. And you can’t tell if that’s just how he is or if it’s the persistent ecstasy you feel being in the driver’s seat of the human sports-car.

“Look... look what you did to me!” You moan, this time with Alex’s voice. You’re now settling inside of him. “You’re an asshole, Scott, I barely met the guy and the first thing you do is stuff me full of him” you start gyrating his body slowly “well, now we do know each other. Intimately. No one is ever going to know this body, this mind, this soul like he does... like I do” you make Alex state. “I feel like I’m gonna explode, Scott. There’s so much of him you put inside me,” you dig around a little in your new chest until you find the outline of the medallion deep inside Alex’s body and give it a slow rub. “Oh god, Scott, what did you do!” You say, in fake distress.

“Oh god Scott! [moan] Help! He’s, he’s...[moan] inside meee.” You invoke the medallion’s powers to force Scott to watch you and prevent him from leaving the apartment.

“[moan] Defiling me”. With your new tone arms, you find the only piece of you not yet integrated into Alex- the outline of your old dick, embedded in Alex’s groin. With his fingers, you dig and grab it and start pumping through your meatsuit’s skin -god that feels good- like an Alex fleshlight. As you grow, it starts to fill into Alex’s limp dick like a glove.

“[whine] Empowering me”. In the throes of passion, you still don’t have perfect control of this new body. Your new face goes emotionless as you continue pumping your cocks. From Scott’s perspective, it’s unsettling enough seeing his best friend jack off in front of him. It’s even more unsettling seeing him do it with no emotion in his face.

“[stare] Corrupting me”. As you can feel Alex’s body as well, you are hit with a wave of unimaginable bliss- your old body’s dick is not fully connected to his, so with each pump you give your Alex cock both an internal and external stimulation. In one fell swoop, face still impassive, you climax inside Alex- through Alex- as Alex, and complete the merge. You greedily suck the amalgamated cum off your fingers and gently moan “thank you housewarming present”. You put a deranged, dark smile on this meatsuit’s face and then heartily laugh.

“And thank you, Scott, for lodging him inside me! [Pant] We can’t wait to repay the favor!”

For a few moments, your new body sits in tranquility. Scott’s does too, though not of his own will.

From the backseat of your mind, you feel a stirring from your other resident. Your body pants a little, “I think... I think he wants to talk to you. What do you think, Scott? Let’s go see what he’s up to..” your eyes roll to the back of your head and your new body convulses as you slowly let his best friend come out. “Scott! I, I’m... w-what happened?”

A moment of relief briefly flashes on Scott’s face as he sees his friend return and more tears well in his eyes. He’s lived with him for years so he can tell when his friend is being genuine. This was Alex. The real Alex. Relief turns to disheartenment when this Alex runs his new hands across his new face with a sly grin.

You decide to keep the ‘real’ Alex in the driver’s seat. With Alex in control, your movements are much more natural. You stretch your arms casually and your sweat-drenched shirt lifts ever so slightly to reveal your glistening abs. With Alex behind the wheel, you give a commanding yawn as you gently scratch your balls through your now damp boxers. Your new face shifts into a sleazy sneer. “I think this is gonna work out juuuuust fine” Alex says, licking his lips.

“Alex, buddy, are you ok?” Scott expresses with concern. Alex ignores him and continues his exploration.

He lifts your right arm, peeling back the shirt sleeve to see his-your hairy pits. It’s wet and it’s rank. “Goddamn we smell, don’t we baby” oddly, perhaps due to your presence in him, he seems to find his own scent alluring. He brings your new face in for a little taste and, involuntarily, winces. It is tart, musky, noxious. It’s good.

Alex then raises his hands, studying them, before reaching mentally instead to the medallion locked inside your combined mass. He effortlessly makes the nervous Scott give you both a little show. “Hey Scott, call me-call us master”. “M-Master!”. Alex gives you a mental wink before freezing Scott back into place.

Alex continues to test your new powers, and their new potency. With the both of you here, you quickly notice how much more of a refined control you have over the medallion. You feel Alex come to the same conclusion.

“I’m already filled to the brim with you swimming inside me,” he chuckled, “it tickles. You’re already using me like a glove. Just finish it, I’m already yours” -he moans that last word, “Fuck Sophie. Since you’re in me, since you are me, I’m a faggot now.”

“And this new faggot wants a piece of that hot, hot roommate-best-friend ass in front of us,” he adds, before giving the still Scott a small wink. Inside Alex, strange shock runs through your core. The medallion no longer surges power through this fleshy conduit, you feel intimately connected to its source. You yourself surge with power. Both bound and freed. Empowered. Invigorated. You are the medallion. You are Alex. This Alex body is wholly yours.

“We feel- no, we ARE a fucking god, Alex aren’t we?!” The Alex piece of you roars.

He said most of that completely on his own. Intoxicated by the power his body now has as your puppet, he’s corrupted his own self, binding pieces of him to parts of the medallion- to parts of you. Permanently. Alex-the old Alex- body, mind, soul. He’s fully yours. Forever and ever. Evidently, the reason his body runs so hot and steamy is having you inside pulling his strings is turning him on. Evidently, the old Alex had a thing for being bound and controlled. Kinky.

The medallion, previously wedged between your skin and Alex’s has long since dissolved into your new body, just as you have long since dissolved into Alex’s. You try to liquify a piece of your old self to pull it out of the hand it now occupies to no avail. Instead, your whole arm liquefies into a writhing mass, before recombining. You don’t even think you can even leave this cute little meatsuit now if you tried. There truly was no going back. He is now an extension of your soul- an extension of you. You let Alex take the wheel again, as your body moans and slowly removes your drenched shirt. You start to think, to reminisce back to your old body, your old life that you had unintentionally left behind. Your Alex-self gently places his fingers on his nipples and gives them a small twist, apparently something he did often. Fuck that felt good. Being permanently Alex feels good. Your fingers dance across this body as you feel your self up. Again, your past life flashes before your eyes before you focus on your new skin. Not giving this up. ‘Anyway, who would ever want to leave this tight piece of ass’.

Another moan escapes you as you continue to pleasure your new body. Your eyes slowly fall on this still terrified, still frozen Scott, who’s face you command into one of longing, piercing blue eyes brimming with a hidden hatred. You take your new hands and gently stroke his cheek. “Don’t worry baby, We didn’t forget about you. After all, you're our. best. friend”.

-End Part 3-

#male possession #male body control #male skinsuit #merge

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peakyblinders1919 · 3 years

Text

“Can you believe it?” Curving towards the sun like a lazy houseplant, you let the warmth of the golden glow bask your skin, heating you up until you were content. “A sunny day in England? I don’t know what to do with myself; what should we do?”

Tommy laughed at you, purring like cat as you extended your legs in chaise lounge. You had convinced Tommy to enjoy the rare sunny day in the garden, though he sat at the table nursing a drink and looking over the books while you fought of sleep in your content state.

“We enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it? And you call that enjoying it?” Your tone was a accusatory but he was only enjoying its subtle touch on his skin, giving him warmth.

“I’m outside, aren’t I?”

“You’re such a sourpuss Tom. You should be more excited! It’s the first sunny day in four months. Put the Goodman books down and let’s do something! A ride, a walk, anything fun. We’ve been locked up inside from the cold and the rain for a whole season... hell it could rain again tomorrow and we’ll be asking ourselves why we haven’t seized the day.”

“Ok Shakespeare, if you must do something get ready and meet me at the car in twenty.”

—

He didn’t know if it was going to work.

She didn’t look impressed when she stepped out of the Bentley into a puddle of mud, the only sign that it ever rained in England.

He hid the smile on his face as she frowned at the rather unamussing sight and smells of the canal on a hot today like today.

“I thought you said in the car that we were going somewhere fun.”

“I said we were going to do something fun. Two very different things my dear.”

“If you think I’m swimming in The Cut is fun you’re fucking daft.” Her voice lowered, “there’s bodies in there Tom. That you put there.”

In the sunlight his laugh seemed less sadistic than it was, taking her hand and leading her along further into Charlie’s yard.

“I thought you said to loosen up a bit,” he smirked over his shoulder at her when they reached the end of the yard and it was still unclear to her what they were doing here. She was still so beautiful when she was a bit angry, he’d lips pointed, her hair blowing in the wind that she was fanning herself with as the sun seemed to beat more powerfully here.

“I might have... said something like that...” she admitted, looking around for any type of indication of what he had up his sleeve.

A simple rowboat was waiting for them, Tommy climbing on first before taking her hand and helping her on.

“A boat? I thought you were in the Army, not the navy. You know how to steer this thing?” Skeptically she took a seat, watching him sit across from her and put his hands on the oars.

“Shut up woman and let me impress you,” he leaned to kiss her before moving them from the docks and paddling out farther.

It really was the perfect solution to a hot day; a nice breeze cooling them, the salt spray of the water sizzling against their skin.

“I bet you’ve never seen the canal like this.” He watched her face change from skepticism to awe as they emerged into the middle of the canal, nothing but trees and nature and wildlife around them, the water sparkling blue, the sun reflecting its warm rays on them.

“It’s beautiful.” She was speechless. Who knew such a treasure was hidden in the heart of Birmingham.

It was peaceful. It was calming. The two of them just soaked in the sun, paddled around a bit, Tommy even showing her how to move the oars and steer the little vessel. He had snuck a picnic basket on as well, making it the perfect day ever.

“Was this up to your standards of a fun day?” He smiled at her, popping a grape into his mouth. She stretched towards the sun and sighed contently.

“It beat my expectations. You never fail to surprise me. That’s why I love you.”

Just as they leaned in for a deep kiss, she felt a slight drop of rain.

“Uh, Tommy...”

“Yeah, I felt it to, we’d better go,” mere inches from her face he pushed a piece of stray hair off her sweaty cheek, not wanting to move. He couldn’t help himself, kissing her deeply until the sky opened up and dumped its usual bucket of rain onto them in the middle of the lake until they were soaking wet, and laughing about it, and in unconditional love.

I’m posting from my phone and I’m sorry if it is set up so bad, I don’t know how to put titles and whatnot

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy

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sweetcavill · 4 years

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Daddy Henry takes care of his sore and needy Little!Reader

I’m writing this because I’m pretty sure my new job is gonna kill me. My feet hurt so bad after this week that I could barely walk and i lowkey wanted to be a crybaby about it but i held back and this is the result lmao.

Daddy!Henry x Little!reader

===========================================

When you had gotten your new job you had been so excited, and Henry had been so supportive of you despite the fact that you both knew could have taken care of you if that had been what you wanted.

What you didn’t expect was how badly you would be hurting as you got used to it. It was constantly running around and even with your most comfortable running shoes, you were extremely sore after a while

You tried to play it off, a little embarrassed that you were so sore when all your new coworkers seemed to be fine. Hell, Henry did far longer far harder days when he was doing movies so who were you to complain?

But this last shift had been hard. You had screwed something up and your coworkers were understanding since you’re so new but you still felt bad that they had to fix it. Furthermore, a customer got mad at you and you have a huge blister on one foot that was stinging really bad. All of this on top of just being really sore.

So when Henry picked you up after your shift, you were already feeling terrible and really just needed the comfort of your Daddy.

When you got in the car, you leaned over and kissed Henry softly. “Thank you for picking me up today.” And then you started shoving your mask and name tag into your purse

Henry watched as you got frustrated with the clip on your nametag getting stuck in your shirt, and then have issues with the zipper of your purse and eventually shove it down to your feet.

He knew you only got so easily frustrated when you had a bad day, or when you needed to be little and usually those things intercept.

“You are very welcome but… Are you okay love?”

You looked up at him as he started pulling out of the parking lot and if he weren’t looking out at the road he would have seen that your eyes were glossy. “I’m okay, I just really wanna go home. It was a long day.”

His hand took its place on your thigh and he gave you a quick glance. “I’m sorry you had a long day baby. Do you wanna tell me about it?”

You thought about it but you really didn’t feel like complaining about your day considering he had been up since far earlier than you working hard himself.

“No, there’s no point in me whining about it. I’m fine baby.” Your voice was soft, and you tried to sound neutral but it came out sad.

He thought about pressing it harder. You definitely seemed like you needed to talk about it and he knew you likely wouldn’t bother if he didn’t try harder but for now he really just wanted to get you home and not upset you anymore.

However, there was something he could do for now.

“Do you want to be little, my love?”

Those words on their own made you feel small, and your exhausted mind and body wanted you to take him up on it.

“I...maybe a bit. But it's ok, I can be little later. We both had busy days.”

Henry didn’t say anything, just squeezed your thigh gently before popping open the glove box in front of you. Inside sat a small stuffed whale you had gotten from a claw machine, and a purple pacifier.

You stared at them longingly, and Henry nearly laughed when your hands twitched to grab them before falling back in your lap.

“Go ahead little one, let me take care of you. I want to take care of my babygirl.”

Those words were exactly what you needed. You glanced at your Daddy one more time only to find him looking at you with a soft expression.

Without looking away your hands reached for the stuffed animal and your little side rejoiced in the soft velvet. Henry smiled and looked back to the road as the light turned green. You had barely noticed that the car had stopped in the first place.

You looked down to the toy in your hands and smiled, before pulling to rub it against your face. You had forgotten it in the car when you bought it, and it became your road-trip comfort. It was a small blue whale, and one of the softest toys you had.

You didn’t even notice Henry grab your soother as well until he was offering it at your lips. You took it without hesitation and sucked on it gently, reveling in the comfort it provided. Henry’s large hand swept up to pet your head gently before falling down to its place on your thigh.

The tension in your body had practically melted away completely. The only thing that you could still feel is your sore feet. You squeezed your stuffy a little harder and tried to wiggle your toes. That made them hurt more and you whimpered gently behind the bobbing pacifier.

“Almost home bug, don’t worry.” Henry assumed you were just eager to get home. You sighed through your nose and tried to toe your shoes off but they were tied too tightly and you whined again and then pressed your face into the whale’s stomach.

By the time Henry pulled into the driveway at home you had shifted in your seat to be facing him and had wrapped both hands around his arm, the stuffed animal sitting safely on your lap.

Henry unbuckled your belt and gave you a quick kiss on your soother to make you giggle. “Alright darling, let’s go get you comfy.”

He turned and got out of the car and you did the same, but as your feet touched the ground you cried out. They were already hurting and now in your littlespace you were even more sensitive.

Henry was already nearly around the car when you yelped in pain and he rushed to your side. “What happened baby, what’s wrong?”

You were tearing up again but this time made no move to hide it. You mumbled behind your paci and Henry sighed before gently slipping the silicone past your lips. “No, Daddy, please give it back!”

He pulled you to his chest as he leaned past you to put it in the cupholder. “I can’t hear you when you have it in love, and this one has to stay in the car anyway. Now, tell Daddy what happened.” He pulled back to look down at your tear filled eyes.

“My feet really really hurt Daddy, when I stood up they hurt even more!.”

Henry slid his hands down your back. “Oh, come here bug. How about I carry you until your feet feel better huh?” And before you could answer you were swept up into his arms. He gently pulled the toy from your hands and tossed it into the passenger seat so he didn’t get lost.

You hid your face in Henry's neck as he carried you to the front door, placing you in one arm to unlock it. As soon as the door opened Kal was there, excited as can be that you were both home. He barked and you whined, trying to hide further into Henry's neck.

Henry knew this likely meant your head was hurting as well, and quickly quieted the excited dog. Kal stopped barking but sniffed at your hanging legs to try and get your attention.

This made you giggle a little bit and try to pet his head with your feet as Henry toed off his own shoes.

He placed you on the bench at the door and Kal quickly sat on the floor, pressing up against your right leg. You were so distracted that you didn’t even complain about being put down.

Henry kneeled and began unlacing your shoes, but as he moved to pull them off you gasped and pulled it out of his grip. “Ow! No Daddy!”

Henry grabbed your ankle more firmly and gently pulled your foot back into his lap. “It will feel better after they’re off princess, I promise. Try and stay still for Daddy.”

You tried to pull your foot away again but he had a stronger grip this time and his other hand quickly pulled it off your foot as gently as he could.

Unfortunately, it still hurt your throbbing feet and a tear fell at the pain shooting up. “No more Daddy, it hurts, please!”

He gently ran his hands up your calves, avoiding your feet but still gently massaging your aching legs. “I know baby. One more. Why don’t you sit on the floor this time and hug Kal while Daddy does the other one, and then you can go have a hot bath?”

You sniffled and squeezed your wet eyes shut but nodded, and Henry helped you slide to the floor slowly. You buried your face in the Ankita's neck as he snuffled your hair, making you giggle lightly even through the tears.

Henry unlaced your shoes the best he could, and then gripped your ankle tightly and pulled the second one off quickly. You yelped, startling the dog but before another tear fell Henry was standing up and pulling you back into his arms.

You cried softly into his shoulder and he pet your hair, whispering gently to try and calm you. He searched the kitchen and the living room before finding one of your pacifiers on the coffee table.

He made his way upstairs and into your shared bedroom and placed you on the bed. When he pulled back, he could see that you were still crying softly. He sighed and placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away your tears. “Is it just your feet still hurting?”

You shook your head gently. “My legs hurt an’ my head hurts and my feet still hurt Daddy.”

He leaned forward and kissed your lips softly and then pulled back and slipped the new paci into your mouth. “Daddy is gonna get you feeling all better sweetheart, I promise.”

He stood back up over you and began undressing you, starting with your shirt. After he had it over your head, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead into his stomach and he chuckled softly. He pet a hand over your head and then trailed down your neck to unclasp your bra.

As he pulled the straps down your arms you whimpered, the pain of extended wear shooting through your breasts. “I know love, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay Daddy.” You mumbled behind your paci.

He gently laid you back and began unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off along with your panties, and then took a moment to admire your body. You squirmed a little as he stared at you, and pressed one of your sock clad feet up to his chest to catch his attention.

He laughed again and grabbed your foot, gently peeling the sock away. Your feet were practically swollen, and you had a band-aid on the side of your big toe.

“Oh baby, no wonder your feet hurt so bad. What happened to your toe?”

“Blister. It really hurt.” You whimpered.

He gently leaned and kissed your ankle, sending goosebumps up your prone body. “I bet it did love.” He quickly removed your other sock and gave your other ankle another kiss and you shivered this time. He smirked gently and ignored your squirming hips. “Oh, my little girl is getting cold. I’m sorry baby, I'll go get your robe.

He turned to the closet and went to get your fluffy yellow robe. He put his hand out and you took it, sitting up and letting him drape the robe over your body and pushed your arms through.

“Stay right here, Daddy is gonna go get your bath ready and we can get you nice and cozy. After your bath we can have dinner and then someone is having an early night I think.”

“Nooo not bedtime yet.”

Henry laughed and kissed you on the forehead. “Not yet bug, after dinner.” And then he left to go run the bath.

He dropped in some Epsom salts for your muscles and some toys if you were feeling like playing in the bath, and then went back out to get you.

He found you trying to rub your feet and cringing when it would hurt, and swatted your hands away. “Don’t touch, they need a break. Come on, let's go get you in the bath.”

He brought you in and slipped your robe off, lowering you into the deep tub gently. The water was perfect and already felt great on your sore body.

He gently pushed your toys towards you and you poked them a bit but ultimately laid back, the warmth of the bath and the exhaustion of the day getting to you.

“No sleeping yet love, play with your toys while Daddy cleans you up.”

He wanted to keep you in the bath for as long as he could to get your muscles feeling better, but he also didn't want you falling asleep before he got some food in your stomach.

After nearly an hour of desperately trying to keep your eyes from falling shut, Henry pulled you out of the bath and wrapped you back in your robe. He pulled the plug and carried you back into the bedroom, but placed you at your vanity instead of the bed so you didn't try to lay down.

All this time your paci never left your mouth. Henry picked out a nightgown for you, nudged your robe off and quickly slipped it over your head.

“Hungry, Daddy.” “I know love, let's go eat.”

He picked you up again and you couldn't be more grateful for all those workouts he does. You certainly didn't feel like walking and you were sure he wouldn't let you now anyways.

You hooked your paci on your finger and whispered; “Can we have soup Daddy?”

He smiled at the request, he knew you meant the canned kind that was never used when he was home. “Are you sure sweetheart? Daddy can make whatever you want.”

“Soup is fast.”

“You're right baby, soup is fast. But I'm gonna make some grilled cheese too, and you can have some fruit with it.”

You pouted at that but didn't argue.

Not 20 minutes later you were at the table with your soup, grilled cheese and a bowl of fruit. Henry sat beside you with his own food and the two of you dug in.

He had to remind you to slow down more than once, and by the third time he took your spoon away and began feeding you himself. “You’re gonna hurt your little tummy my love, let Daddy help you.”

By the time you were both finished you were clearly about to pass out, but were still fighting Henry on it.

“Look at you little girl, you're exhausted. It's time for bed.”

“No, because bedtime is at 10 and it's only 8:30!”

“Bedtime is when I say it is, and I don't appreciate hearing the word ‘no’ out of your sweet little mouth. You need some sleep, let's go.”

His stern tone was enough to make you stop arguing, and your eyes were glossy again as you apologized softly.

Henry sighed and pulled you back up into his arms and began walking up to the bedroom once more. “It's okay little love, I know you're feeling delicate right now but that's exactly why you need to go to bed.”

He laid you under the covers with utmost care and popped your paci back into your mouth once more. He quickly changed into his own pajamas and crawled in beside you, chuckling lightly as you immediately clung to him.

He wrapped his arm around you and you draped a leg over his lap, and your eyes were already threatening to fall shut for the night. Before they did you buried your face into his bare shoulder and mumbled around your soother as clearly as you could. “Thank you for taking care of me Daddy.”

“You are very welcome little one, and you can tell me about your day in the morning. I love you very much, my sleepy girl.

“I love you Daddy, goodnight.”

Your Daddy always knows how to make it all better.

#hi and welcome back to me projecting #little!reader #Daddy!Henry x Little!Reader #henry cavill #Daddy!henry Cavill #henry cavill x reader #im fine now but when i started this one a couple days ago i wanted to DIE #Little reader #x reader #reader #headcanons #i guess #tho its pretty long #my writing #posting in the middle of the night again. classic me #ALSO THE FACT THAT THIS IS 2.7K WORDS-#like i could have kept going tbh

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pseudofaux · 3 years

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I'm partially embarrassed to request this hence the anonymity but I couldn't pass up asking for Ikevamp Charles abs body worship? Either or him doing the action to or reader to him. Actually reader granting Charles some sexy under table worship while seated at dinner sounds hot. Faust and Vlad get so much love he gets left behind I feel like. If you don't know his characterization well it's ok. I'll probably write something hot myself when my sexy imagination kicks in. Which oh boy I think it has. Love ya lots Pseu! You're writing is impeccable as always. :)

Ohhhhhhh, this is a really good idea and I think you are right on all counts! Originally I was going to have him seated with someone and open this with the other person (Faust?) asking “Where is she?” (🥵), but I think Mssr. Sanson could reeeeally benefit from some words during worship, so this is just the two of them. Please enjoy! And I hope when you write what you are inspired to that it makes you really happy. Or that it already did!❣️

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

The castle’s dining chairs are upholstered with silk, because... well, what else would be in Vlad’s beautiful home? That silk is fitted over very fine, full stuffing, and the arms are carved wood, dark and polished. The waxy scent of the polish gets in Charles-Henri’s nostrils in this place. He doesn’t mind it, but he is surprised how unavoidable it can be, even over her perfume. Even over what she is doing to him.

Which is, carefully and reverently, making him insane.

Her pretty skirt is spread out over her knees and the floor like a tent, the circle of it impeded only by the legs of his chair. And her mouth is on him and murmuring endless love. Her words might be silly if anyone were to write them down, but it’s like she took them right out of the darkest, loneliest places of his brain, and she doesn’t trip over them, so he is under her spell and her lips, and he does not want to get away.

“You’re delicious,” she says, so sweetly he laughs.

“You can’t taste me the way I can taste you,” he reminds her. She just hums like she is at the top of the food chain and fondles his balls like she is on the lowest rung of society. He shivers, not for the first time.

“You are,” she insists, sucking a tiny kiss onto his hip, “Delicious.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbles, so pleased he is jittery. His soul knows and fears that any moment this attention could be snatched away, and he wants it but he can’t depend on it...

“So smooth,” she whispers, her harmless fingernails scraping down what she can reach of the inside of his legs. She knelt there a few moments ago and opened the front of his trousers like it was nothing, and she has been touching him and mouthing him and speaking to him ever since. Charles doesn’t know why this is happening (Did Vlad order her to do this, as some kind of reward for him?), and he won’t rely on it, but he is enjoying it. The way he bobs beside her cheek is proof enough of that.

Surely she feels it? She is gripping him.

“This part,” she whispers, squeezing him and beginning to tug, release, stroke with a practiced touch, “This is so wonderful. The things you do to me with it. I’m so happy I can do things to you, too.”

His fingers drum on the table like he’s playing a sonata. “You can’t,” he says. It’s weak. He’s weak. “You don’t have the power... to do anything.”

She chuckles from the place in her throat he wants to touch when he comes. And maybe she will let him, since she seems to be pulling all the things he wants out of his head tonight, here in this empty dining room. Even if he couldn’t feel all her kisses-- and he can-- he can hear them.

“It’s perfect. You are perfect, Charles-Henri,” she says. She kisses the tip of him and her lips come away sticky. She gives it right back to him when she mouths all her praises all over again down his length. “Smooth... so handsome... so very strong... delicious.” She breathes in through her nose, tucked down by his groin, and it’s such a deep inhale that it tickles him and makes him feel like she is trying to take him in every way she can. Does the hair above his cock tickle her nose? She doesn’t flinch.

“I like the way you smell,” she says as she sighs out the breath. It’s hot and damp against his already-agitated skin. Dreamily, she adds “But I love the way you feel. Want you in my mouth.”

What can he say to that? He’s not afraid of her, there’s nothing she can even do to him, but what she is doing to him... if she stops, he feels like his mind will break, and not in clean slice but in a terrible rendering with tears and uneven edges. This entire situation is so dangerous, it’s dark and lusty and makes him feel so good he doesn’t feel safe trusting it. But he can play along. He can always play along.

“Take me in your mouth, then,” he says. He wants it to be dry, but his eagerness bleeds out of him like the juice of an overripe squeezed fruit and makes it sound like a challenge, like he’s not just playing along over her head but playing with her. Thankfully, she takes the challenge, her wet mouth opening around him and sliding down like she is determined to play, too.

He puts his head back against the dark, polished wood of the back of the chair and groans at the feel of her on him. Can love exist in a mouth that is not speaking? Can he shove himself into the deepest part of her throat? Has she ever done this before? His mind is all questions and sensation, centered on how she sucks at him as she pulls back.

Her hum is accompanied by a slight sway. It looks like she is dancing, sinuous. Seductive.

Charles slides his hands off the table, smoother than a snake, and puts them in her hair. “Is that all you wanted?” he whispers to her. She shakes her head with a closed-mouth smile. “Then have more,” he hisses, and pulls her close. He doesn’t even touch the seam of her lips because she opens for him so readily, and that thought and her plush tongue make him groan again. He pulls her (and she goes, easily) all the way down, until her body rebels and convulses around him, then he pulls her back. “More?” he asks. “More of that?”

He is not prepared for the way she rasps a needy yes, or for the way his hands have to chase her head as she goes back to her work. When she pulls away her spit clings to him and it is thick with his early seed, a glimmer in the dimness of the room. “I always want more of you,” she promises before she goes right back down. And as she moves her head down his length and pulls off with wet pops and smacks, she keeps talking, keeps saying so many of the things he’s been wanting to hear. Not needing. Only wanting. but he has been wanting.

She swears under her breath, and slurps, and calls him manly. The base of each of her palms finds the front of hips and holds him tight while she moans on him. “I love this,” she tells him. “I love you.”

It shoots through him like a downfall of arrows. He should be cut open but he only shudders and tries to figure out how to urge her on without betraying how badly he wants her to keep going. Shouldn’t she know, isn’t that why she is doing this?

“Wish I could just stay here,” she sighs before taking him wet and deep. She makes some noise that feels like a gargle around him, like his cock is in a mineral spring, and his cum soaks her windpipe and her mouth as she slowly pulls back without a single cough. He would miss it if he did not feel quite so euphoric from all her words. They might be dangerous, but that’s because they were so good.

“Delicious,” she whispers with a wet, white smile. The pink of her tongue is paler under the coat of cream she seems so proud of. He stares, unwilling to blink, as she slowly moves it over her lips. When she is done she hums like she has just had a wonderful meal, though he was the only one at the table with a plate. Even if it was for show.

Her gasp when he hauls her up and throws her onto the pillow of her skirts on the table is really all he needs to live, he thinks. He takes her on the table and keeps his ear right by her mouth and his mouth right by her ear, so he can murmur all the possessive filth she’s risen to his surface like floodwaters. And catch everything she might say, too. Just in case she says anything else as he’s pounding her into the dark polished wood, pushing the scent of wax into her skin.

“You like me,” he chants several times. “Delicious.” Her earlobe has no taste of its own, but it is the most wonderful texture in his delicate bite. Some day soon he’ll give her the holes for several new earrings, he thinks. But for now he’ll fuck into her all the things he’s not going to say, because for now he is just playing along. He can always play along. Or so he tells himself.

#ikevamp charles #ikevamp charles-henri sanson #ikevam charles #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #pseu slings #vlad's backup sadists

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pseudo-possum · 3 years

Text

One by one, I'm posting my fanfics to tumblr in no particular order... Firstly, this one...

A Night in the Woods

(Nsfw) Risotto Nero x reader

(yes, I'm bad at titles)

Warnings: NSFW, sex pollen, cum, smut

You fidget with your hands in your lap, trying not to bite your lip. You breathe deep, making a futile attempt to control the heavy breaths you can't help but let out. There's a fire in the pit of your stomach, burning throughout your entire body. Every inch of you is hypersensitive, your clothing feels too hot and heavy, the pressure of your tight panties only making the arousal burn brighter. You look down at the small wet patch on your crotch, and then quickly up at Riso in the driver's seat. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. His eyes are intently fixed on the road. You dare to look down and have to bite back a low moan as you see the bulge in his pants, tip of his cock leaking a dark stain on the fabric.

You cross your legs, trying desperately to ignore the burning arousal. Big mistake. You yelp at the intensified sensation, trying desperately to uncross your legs, but your uncoordinated movements catch your shoe under the dash, trapping you. You struggle, the movement only adding more friction. You can't help but moan a bit. Risotto looks at you, a short, pained glance before poignantly staring back at the road. You manage to get your legs uncrossed, spreading them far apart to minimize friction. You see that the wet patch has bloomed to twice its size. It's very noticeable. "You're feeling it too…" he nods, not looking at you, hands somehow gripping the wheel tighter. "The enemy stand… you got hit…" he nods again. "So why don't we…" this isn't the first time you've thought of him this way, but now, every iota of lust you held for your handsome capo is turned up to eleven.

"I wouldn't want to… take advantage of you… in this state…" god, Risotto wished he could touch you. He'd been desperately in love with you since the day you'd saved his life six months ago. He'd always been too afraid to approach you romantically, worried he'd ruin your professional relationship.

"Please… it… it burns… I need you Riso…" these words send a chill down his back. The desperation in your voice, the use of the pet name, oh god everything.

"Are… are you absolutely sure you want this?" He hesitates.

"Yes… please please please… why don't we consider it… a part of the mission… to recover from an enemy stand… ok?" He looks at you for a long time, before nodding slowly and pulling the car down a dark side road.

"If you need to stop… just tell me… ok?" He says as he pulls over on the side of the road. You immediately take off your seatbelt, climbing over the seats to lay in the back. You shimmy out of your pants, kicking your shoes off before he even opens his door. You lay, spread out on the seat, every inch of you burning as he opens the back door. Instead of getting in, as you expected, he pulls you to the edge of the seat, taking your underwear in both hands, he tears them in two, exposing you to him. His eyes glaze over a bit as he sees just how wet you really are.

"Please just put it in me!" You beg, interrupting his reverie.

"I need to prep you…" he counters, beginning to lick some of your slick off your thigh. Shudders of pleasure course through your body.

"But I'm so wet… please…" the arousal is more painful than ever. You need to be touched. You feel that if you don't get the attention you so crave, you might die of lust.

"If I don't prep you I might hurt you… I'll try to make it quick… I want to be in you just as badly." Without further hesitation, he buries his face between your thighs, eliciting a choked moan of absolute bliss. His tongue feels like sweet relief after so long. He inserts a finger into your desperate cunt, then another. They go in easy, and you moan and flex around them, trying desperately to pull them in deeper. He sucks at your clit, and you feel like you're close to an orgasm already, but nothing comes. It feels so good, but it isn't enough. You whine and beg for him to take you.

When a third finger slides in easily, Risotto decides that you probably don't need as much preparation as he thought. His erection throbs painfully. With a growl, he pulls away his fingers, eliciting a squeal from you. He lifts your hips up, unzipping his pants and freeing his erection. That's when he sees it, a light around the corner. Headlights. Thinking quickly, he shoves you into the backseat, diving on top of you, pulling both your legs in, and slamming the door with metallica.

You don't see the car until after he's on top of you, well muscled arms enveloping you, his chest against your too tight shirt, leaking erection pressed against your inner thigh. He pulls you into a desperate kiss as the car passes. "It's too cramped in here. We're going to the woods." It isn't a question. Once the car is out of sight, he gets out of the car, pulling you out by the legs and throwing you over his shoulder. You go limp in a blissed out haze. Being manhandled like this turns you on so fucking much. He leaps over the ditch, impact of his landing sending shocks of pleasure through your body that make you leak more of your juices onto your thighs.

Risotto gently lays you down on the soft moss of the forest floor. He's on you at once, licking and sucking your neck, kissing you, telling you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Every touch leaves you wanting more, his mouth is so intoxicating. You let out a choked moan as he tears open your shirt and bra, and the night air washes over your chest, cooling your burning skin. He descends upon your chest, licking and sucking your nipples and breasts. Impatience gets the better of him though, and he pulls away, taking his cock in his hand. You feel your mouth fall open at the sight of it. It's even larger than you expected. He strokes his massive length, looking down at you. "Are you sure you want me?" He asks softly. You nod frantically, a burning physical desperation telling you that you NEED him.

He picks up your hips, pulling your legs around him as he lines up with your soaked entrance. He slides in surprisingly easy, your inner muscles pulling him in deeper. You let out an almost shamefully loud moan, clapping a hand over your mouth. He groans a bit as he penetrates you, filling you slowly, though you want so desperately for him to fuck you into the dirt. Every inch of him fills you so divinely you want to scream. He presses in all the way, stretching you out completely, but there's no pain. He lets out a little gasp. You look down, seeing the cause. There's a slight bulge in your stomach, from where he's so deep inside you.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Risotto breathes heavily as he stares at the bulge he's created. Your response is enthusiastic, but incoherent as you writhe on the ground beneath him, begging to be fucked. He leans in to kiss you, beginning to rock his hips against yours, whole body shaking from the strain of not pounding into you with everything he has. You're gripping him so tightly he can't think straight, but his will is stronger than his urges, and he knows he'd never forgive himself if he hurt you.

"Please fuck me harder!" You beg, grabbing at the straps criss crossing his chest, nails catching his flesh oh so briefly, his oversensitive body shuddering at the pleasure pain. He begins to go harder, marvelling at how you respond, slick soaking his pants, mouth agape in sheer, unadulterated pleasure. He accidentally goes harder than he wanted to on one particular thrust, watching you for any sign of pain, but you only cry out, begging him to let go, to fuck you into the dirt. He complies, giving in to the stand that Haze's his mind. Speeding up feels so good, he moans, sweat beginning to run down his face as the heat of an orgasm builds within him.

Oh god, the feeling of your insides being pummeled is better than anything you've ever felt. Each thrust sends electric fire surging through your veins, making you tighten around him further and further. You can feel every vein on his engorged member pulse within you, his finger finding your clit as you rocket towards an earth shattering orgasm. You come around him, body tensing, twitching, gripping him tight like a vice.

You're so fucking tight. Risotto can feel his own orgasm swiftly approaching. He redoubles his efforts, pounding you harder through your orgasm. A thin strand of rational thought enters his mind. Birth control. Are you on birth control? He doesn't know. He feels his orgasm begin to wash over him, and, despite how much it pains him to pull out, he does, covering you in a hot, pressurized spurt of stick white. He looks down at the shocked expression on your face. "Sorry… I didn't know if you were on the pill…" he says. And even as he says it, he notices, he's still hard. The painful need is filling him again.

"I don't care! Fucking breed me!" He can tell by the desperation in your voice that you're feeling it too. Your words awaken something primal in him, something that doesn't obey thought or reason. He pushes inside you again, fucking you harder than ever. He loves the way you writhe and moan under him, your body taking him so well.

Both of your orgasms come quicker this time, somehow, even more intense than the last. He finishes inside you this time, and again, and again, a total of 6 times before he collapses, exhausted onto you. You're practically numb from pleasure as he rolls over onto his back, pulling off his coat and dragging your limp form onto his chest. He covers the two of you in his jacket, and you fall asleep there, safe and warm on his chest.

…

You wake up feeling sore. You're thirsty, sticky, and there's a dull ache in the pit of your stomach. You look up at the face of your capo, memories of the night before flooding your mind. You blush hard, feeling something sticky between your thighs. You stare at him, pale eyelashes catching the light of the sun. He looks so handsome when he's sleeping. You've never seen him so peaceful before.

He stirs, eyes opening slowly. There's a look there that you've seen before, but never recognized. It's a deep affection that he's always had for you, a love that goes beyond a professional respect and delves into something deeper. He plants a kiss on your forehead.

You look up, the sun is high overhead. Oh no! The team! They haven't heard from you since before the stand! You express your concerns to Risotto, who simply says "Fuck." You try to get up, but your legs won't support you. You collapse back onto his chest, looking down at the imprint in the dirt where he dicked you down the night prior. "I'm gonna get your pants from the car. Stay here." He says, groaning as he gets up, leaving you with his coat. You look down at yourself, realizing what a .ess you look. Your shirt is buttonless and covered in dirt and semen, there's cum in your hair and on your face, not to mention the mess between your legs. You need a shower and a change of clothes before you face the team.

Risotto returns with your pants, a stack of napkins, and a water canteen. You get cleaned up as much as possible, stuffing a napkin into your pants to catch the cum that's still steadily dripping out of you. You drink half the water before he helps you back to the car. He drives while you answer all of the missed calls and texts. You say that there were complications with an enemy stand that delayed you. Which isn't far from the truth.

That truth, however, can't be hidden from your teammates. "YES!" Melone shouts. "YOU OWE ME $20 FORMAGGIO! I KNEW THEY WERE HOOKING UP." he's silenced by a glare from Risotto as he carries you upstairs for a nice hot bath.

#fanfic #la squadra x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto nero #smut

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Death Cannot Take You

Summary: You died. You should have died, yet here you are having the audacity to still be walking.

A/n: This is semi abandoned old guard au. I made it for 3 reasons. 1) I love Old Guard. 2) I love writing resurrection scenes cus it makes my brain calm. 3) This is a poly that I am desperate for.

Warning: Violence, kidnapping, terrible explanations, and blatant disregard for patient care.

The world shook violently as it staggered into view— blotchy patches of fluorescent lights and rough textures. Drowning the heavy scrape of metal is a chorus of thumping and ringing in your ears. Your hands fly to the seat in front of you, cold metal pressed against hot skin as the train rattles on. It makes your stomach lurch, dredging out its contents.

Crumpled in your seat, you heave a ragged breath. You retch, the contents of your stomach burning in your esophagus. You screw your eyes shut unable to take another long gulp of air; it stung to breathe in the piss heavy air. You need to breathe. You need the oxygen. You need your mind in working order. Sucking in a greedy lungful, you cough it out, body rejecting it.

There was a heat.

A pulse.

A pistol.

A laugh.

You can remember the wetness of saliva and blood and tears on your face as the warmth bled out of your fingertips.

It was cold.

It was so cold.

Your heartbeat picks up. It’s getting harder to breathe. Your windpipe is closing. The world is getting smaller. The bones in your hands are rattling.

A cry pries itself out of your chest, tearing its way out of your mouth. They’re not stopping. They’re still laughing.

No.

Please god, no.

With another violent rattle, your consciousness slips.

You’re cold again. Shadows grasp at the corners of your vision. The world is blotchy— a patch of tangling threads.

The alley smells of piss and garbage. The smell is thick enough to make you choke. Your heart had stopped a while ago. No, your mind did. No, it was your heart you’re sure. No, no. It was his heart that stopped.

It’s cold. Someone is crying out for you. It’s your father. You’re scared. Your blue eyes are fading in color. You’ve faced death before— No, not you. He has. He’s faced death always with a smile but now with his heart at a complete stand still he’s sure this is it. He’s sure this is how he dies. It isn’t on the trapeze or because of some cookie plan made by a costumed nut case. Your— his heart stops.

He died.

So did he. There’s another man. He’s lying on the battlefield. The sky is so pretty. You can hear canonfire. There’s another man beside him. He’s dying too. Your fair hair is matted red. Your— his flesh is reknitting itself. It’s— The whole in his— your stomach is closing the whole in it. You’re gasping for breath. The alley doesn’t stink of piss and garbage; it smells like cotton fields and summer heat.

He died.

You died.

There’s a buzzing in the air— the thrum of electricity as it writhes in the wires. Bouncing your leg, you wait for the receptionist to call your name. Anxiety sings in your veins like a chorus of scraping metal.

You don’t remember what happened last night— not clearly.

It’s all a melting pot of images and voices and touches.

You cup your hand over your mouth, the stomach acid burning its way up your esophagus. Your tongue is tacky with dried saliva and the lingering taste of copper. They’re laughing. They’re all still laughing. The ringing in your ears won’t stop.

You fold. Legs curl up into your chest as you dip your head under. Eyes sliding shut, you let the darkness pool in your mind. The vague sounds in the emergency room coalescing into a discordant symphony. You let yourself dream again.

You lift your head up slowly, colors bleeding into view. The words don’t make sense.

“Kid, are you ok?”

You regard the large man with the open—mouthed confusion of a fish. He’s handsome in a rough sort of way— grisled with a full beard, cropped hair, and gunmetal blue eyes— eye. He’s got an eye patch. You swallow. Your lungs inflate as they inhale the sterile scent of the room. The smell of hand sanitizer is too thick. He’s tall. You crane your neck to look up at him. It hurts. He must easily be 6’3”, maybe even taller. His chest is broad and through the shirt, he’s wearing you can see the expanse of taut well—defined muscles. His lips are curved up at one side in a lopsided smirk. Your head is pounding. You shut your eyes, vigorously nodding your head. You know what he’s staring at. You know what his eyes— eye— are trained on.

You… You haven't changed. The crisp white shirt you’d worn to your job is dark and wrinkly with dried blood. You hate it. You hate how uncharacteristically messy you look; it makes you feel off—model, like something that is a cluttered version of you.

You curl up again. This time the ringing in your ears blocks out everything else. Your head dips back into the dark. It’s cold and stuffy and your ears were ringing when they—

Your eyes fly open and there’s a figure in front of you. You squint. The figure is smaller, less broad; a nursing assistant with kind eyes stands over you with a clipboard. You breathe. You turn your head to the man from before. He’s standing next to a man— younger, shorter. He looks dwarfed next to the other man but he’s average height and it would be funny if you had the energy. You’re far enough away that you can’t be sure of his features but it’s not hard to tell that he’s pretty. He’s got rich brown skin, black hair, and a gymnast’s poise. He’s familiar. Both of them are. They’re talking to the police. You freeze.

Are they here for you? Who are they?

“I need you to follow me back into the ER,” she says gently, grip firmly grasping your shoulder. You run your hand through your matted hair. Your hand comes back slick and sticky with sweat and dried blood. The oxygen in your lungs stutters. You feel another squeeze on your shoulder. You’re back. You’re not whole but you’re back.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, legs wobbling beneath you as you stand.

You follow her. It’s faint but you can feel someone follow you as you disappear into the hall with her.

The walk to the hall was peaceful. It was steadying. It’s the talk with the doctor that’s putting you on edge. He’s tapping his pen on the clipboard. Your mind writhes with every tap. Sighing, you rub your eyes and try to push the sensations away. “I— I’m so sorry. I’m just. It’s my mind. I just can’t—” you breathe “—I can talk. I’m sorry.” You wave vaguely.

“Alright tell me what happened.”

You swallow. Your trachea still feels splintered. “I—” breathe “—I was cornered. In an alley. Behind a butcher shop. I was trying to take a short cut—” he taps a pen against the board "— I was attacked." You finish, fingers tracing up the length of your throat. Attacked was too quick a word. Attacked was the kind of word you used for the quick in and out of a knife— the split second bite of a bullet. You weren’t attacked. You were— what happened to you felt like an eternity.

Shuffling, he looks you over. There's a prickle in the back of your neck. There's someone watching you. Your eyes flick. There's the young man. His eyes are a warm tropical blue. He waves at you. He looks uneasy. The man from before is trying not to pay attention. Your legs swing, almost clipping the doctor's clipboard. The doctor frowns at you but you shrug.

"You don't seem to have been injured."

You blink. "That's not possible," you say, hands shaking,"they had me for hours." No that wasn't true. At most they had you for an hour or maybe two but that didn’t matter not at the bite of the bullet, not at the slice of flesh, not at the impact of the bat.

"I need you to breathe," the doctor instructs, placing a hand on your back; it tenses. You go rigid. He pulls back muttering about x—rays and brain scans.

Catching his lab coat in a death grip, you beg: "Please don't leave me."

"Ma'am, you're perfectly safe here."

They will find you.

He thinks you're hysterical. You know that from the way he looks at you, like a caged animal. "We have security personnel if need be," he assures, none—too—gently prying his coat from your grip. "We'll close the curtain if that makes you feel safe and there are hospital gowns in the closet if you'd like to change."

You nod quietly.

You slowly peel off your shirt. The cool air stings. You suck in a breath. You think of the dream you had. That man's heart stopping. The press of lips. The bite of metal against skin. You look down at your skin— no bruises, no cuts, nothing.

You're scared.

You know these memories aren't fully yours.

You hear the door slide open. Your knee jerk reaction is to be embarrassed. You're in your underwear. Pulling on a gown, you're ready to snarl at the intruder. Your heart stops. It's the man from before.

"Did they take a blood sample from you yet?" He asks, closing the curtain behind him.

His gaze is unyielding as he makes slow predatory strides towards you. You flatten yourself against the wall. "No— I— what?"

"Good."

"What—" There's a sharp pain in the side of your head. There's blood trickling down the side of your head. Your vision is fading.

Falling forward, you grasp your blood tacky hands at his shirt. You feel weightless. You're on his shoulder.

"Who are you?"

"You'll find out."

The desert sand billows as a gust of wind blows through the dunes. You’re searching for someone. Your friend. His friend not yours. He’s somewhere. He’s being held prisoner. You’ve kept him waiting long enough.

You turn your head and the scene shifts.

There’s a sky full of lights above you, glittering. You can’t tell if they’re man made or not. You reach out to them. Your hands aren’t yours. You squint. Your hands are dark and calloused— covered in sawdust. There’s a terrible shape in your stomach. You’re scared but that’s not new. There’s always a little fear when you go on the trapeze.

You shift under the cover, limbs wrapped around a pillow. The smell of freshly roasted coffee is heavy in the air. You burrow your face more into the pillow. Mark can wake you up—

"And you thought kidnapping her was the solution?!"

You wince at the tone. Shuffling your limbs quitely out of the covers, you press yourself to the wall, peaking over the corner just a fraction— just enough to see two men arguing. The taller man with white hair facing the hall opening into the sleeping area.

“It was.”

“Slade, you can’t just go kidnapping people!” the younger man shouts, his face red while his arms waved all over the place. Slade, you assumed, stood impassively, but his arms were now crossed over his chest in a defensive manner.

“I just did.”

The younger man runs his hand over his face and through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. “She’s going to be terrified when she wakes up.”

You are. Your eyes flick to the window. You could escape. You're in a motel room you realize. If they’re distracted enough, you could make it out.

“Well, Kid, it looks like you’re right.”

“Of course, I am—”

You look up. The two men are looking in your direction. Should you go back to the bed and pretend to be asleep? Is there any point? Just make a run for it.

You sprint only to hit what feels like a brick wall. You stagger back but what feels like a metal band wraps around your waist. The next thing you know is that you feel weightless.

“Slade, put her down! You’re going to give her a heart attack.”

“Relax, kid, it’s not like it’s gonna kill her.” Your body is dropped unceremoniously on the bed. You bounce a couple of times before your body settles against the soft sheets. Scrambling back against the headboard, you look between the two men trying to decide what to do. You place a pillow in front of you as a shield. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears that you don’t think you’ll be able to hear anything that comes out of your mouth.

“I’m broke,” you finally manage. You turn to the younger man. “My roommate is broke too.” He gives you a confused furrow in his brow. “We can’t afford ransom. You won’t get anything, so please just… just let me go. I won’t tell the police. I promise.” Folding your legs behind the pillow, you press yourself into the headboard further. The young man sighs and slumps. “We don’t want money.” You stiffen, keenly aware that save for the flimsy protection of the hospital gown, you’re only in your underwear. He seems to realize what you’d concluded.

Slade snorts. “Way to go, kid.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help, asshole.”

“I have done nothing wrong.”

“Ah, yes. Aside from kidnaping her you mean,” he snarls. You swallow loudly, trying to keep the bile down. The younger man turns to you, the impressive glare he was sporting slides way too easily into concern. His body rolls into a different shape; it’s the kind of posture you’ve used when comforting your younger sibling. He lowers himself on the bed slowly. He reaches out a hand. Carefully, he says “We won’t hurt you.”

And you want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him.

“Real convincing, Grayson.” Slade sneers as he watches your recoil from Grayson’s outstretched hand. Grayson levels another glare at Slade who simply huffs and shrugs.

“I haven’t done anything to you. Please let me go.” You croak.

Grayson looks at you helplessly. “(Y/n)... We can’t...”

“You died last night.” Slade says. Nothing in his tone suggests a question. It’s just a statement. No room for doubt.

You blink, nose scrunching. “I— I was mugged.” You cover your face with your hands. You’re pretty positive that you’d remember being murdered and you say as much. You got cornered by three to four gang members and they mugged you. That was it.

Your stomach rebels at the thought.

Grayson gives you that pitying look again. He pries your hands from your face, blue eyes bearing down at you with so much concern. His touch is so gentle that you almost cry. “Sweetheart, think about it.”

You shake your head trying to pull your hand away from him. He doesn’t let you. Your head is throbbing. You’re scared and confused and you’re starting to feel anger prickle under your skin. “I think I would know if I died, asshole,” you snarl and the shift in tone catches them both off guard.

Slade sighs. There’s a flash of metal and a gunshot. The pain radiates from the middle of your stomach; it’s sharp. Some small, shrill sound escapes you. You’re gasping as you look at him again. He’s looking at a watch. It looks expensive. It’s funny how even during death your mind finds a way to procrastinate.

“It’s taking a little while. Of all the inconveniences, why is it so slow the first few times?”Slade mutters in a voice that would sound right at home in a self checkout line. His shoe is tapping against the rug. You wonder if that’s expensive too.

“Why would you shoot her?” Grayson demands, shooting up from his spot on the bed. The loss of weight jostles the bed. You wince.

You look down. Something strange is happening. Your flesh like cloth is reknitting, leaving the seamless expanse of your stomach.

You look back up, eyes blown wide and frantic. You pat your stomach, hand coming away with a thin film of blood but the strange tingling you get when you’re expecting to feel something but you don’t. The bullet hole wasn’t there. It just wasn’t.

A sprawl of frantic horror lives down the line of your sternum. It was the kind of amorphous energy you get when something doesn’t make sense, when something just shouldn’t have happened— a sort of odd dislocation in the universe.

Grayson holds his hands up in a placating manner as he sits back down on the bed. He’s careful not to jostle you but you barely notice. You think his hands look familiar. Your— his calloused hands reach out to you. “You need to trust us.”

“You. Just. Shot. Me.”

“Correction, he shot you.”

Slade rolls his eye. “Ah yes, kid, very helpful.”

“It’s an important distinction.”

“Fine!” You point to Slade. “You shot me.” You point to Grayson. “You. Let. Him.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate that you think I have any control over that brute,” Grayson says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, “but I have about as much control over that brute as I do over a storm. ”

Unamused, you throw a pillow at Grayson hard enough that he almost topples over the edge. You grab another pillow and Grayson raises the pillow you threw at him in defense. You can see the smile in his eyes; it makes the acid behind your teeth boil. All embarrassment and horror bleed out to give way to anger as you throw the pillow at him with the same ferocity as before. Slade snatches the pillow midair saving Grayson from having to deflect it. Grayson gives him a smile that looks like an insincere apology. Slade, like you, seems unconvinced and pushes your discarded pillow into Grayson’s fine—boned face. It does nothing to wipe the grin off his face but you feel a little better knowing you’re not the only one who has to endure him.

You fight the urge to laugh but not too hard. The chords of your muscles come loose and for the first time in what feels like an age, you feel tired. “I’m dead. I died. Then you shot me… And then you shot me. WHAT THE HELL?” You say, the accusation directionless. You were supposed to die on a smoking heap of trash, gutted and pathetic. Hands falling limply to your sides, you let your mind go through that a dozen times because, well, how does one process their own death and undeath? You shouldn't still be here.

"What’s happening to me?"

"She's acting far more reasonable than you did." Slade teases.

Grayson scowls at him, slapping him with the pillow. Slade just kind of grunts clearly less hurt than annoyed. Considering the solid wall of muscle the man is sporting, you wouldn’t be surprised if it would take nothing short of a brick to hurt him. "YOU SHOT ME IN THE HEAD THEN SHOT ME THROUGH THE STOMACH."

“I only shot you in the stomach because the bullet through your head didn’t get through your thick skull.”

You’re one missed heartbeat away from laughing. Your brows shoot up, limp limbs coming back to life as you curl in on yourself again. What have you gotten yourself into?

"Oh my god, I mean— Shit!" Slade snorts as Grayson flails. Grayson puts his hand in his face, groaning. “Sorry about that… Slade is terrible at explanations.”

Slade makes a noise in the back of his throat. It sounds like a laugh and twitch of his lip would suggest so but you're still second guessing yourself. "You're one to talk Mr. We Won't Hurt You." The air fills with Slade's amusement as Grayson’s cheeks flush. It's funny how easily pretty shifts to adorable.

You sigh raking your hand through your hair. It's been an exceptionally long day. "What’s happening to me?" You whine mostly to yourself. "I'm not a meta. I think I would know if I was something like that… Right?" You look up at Grayson who just gives you a complicated expression. "You know what's going on don't you?" You say, crawling closer to Grayson. He shifts a bit, keeping his eyes straight. Grayson blinks and runs his hand through his hair, collecting his scattered thoughts. He leans back, putting a bit of space between you as he speaks. "We got off on the wrong foot," he says extending a hand to you, "the name's Dick—”

“Are you sure?” and Slade laughs at your question. Grayson— Dick (is that really his name?) looks tired like he’s heard this question a million times. “Yes, I’m sure about my name.” You feel a little bad but not enough to actually say anything that even comes close to an apology. “Anyway,” Dick (?) continues,”the grumpy old man over there is Slade. We’re sort of in the same boat as you.”

The last line makes you pause. You think back to your dreams, the quick flashes of sensations. Oh. That was— Oh. Your stomach feels like lead. You watched them— Oh.

“I’m sorry.” you say, at a loss of what else to say. Death was an intimate thing. You guessed that only the dead or the previously dead would know that. You fold your hands on your lap as you sit back on your legs, a primm gesture that made you feel solid and a bit more like yourself than you had in hours.

Dick’s warm blue eyes are wide. He goes still for a moment taking in what you’d just said. His head shakes and he smiles at you, an expression that is weightless. It made you think of the trapeze. “It’s ok,” he assures you, warm hand on yours, “it’s not your fault… Anyway!” You use the very sarcastic brows you’ve been given to convey your concern about the neck snapping shift in tone. Dick looks at you sheepish, hand rubbing the back of his neck before deciding to soldier on. “We don’t know why but some individuals are brought back to life and are made immortal. We’ve— I’ve got a few working theories but—”

“Immortal.” You repeat, trying to make the concept make sense.

“We, now including you, don’t die, kid.” Slade deadpans.

“Thanks. I’ve read a dictionary.” You say, eyes flicking to your very much intact stomach. Dick laughs, the sound high and breezy. He tries to stifle it but even the hand cupped over his mouth couldn’t contain the sound. Slade’s long leg stretches to give Dick a not so light kick. This does nothing but increase the volume of his laughter. You look back up at them. “So, what does my latest existential crisis have to do with either of you?”

“Well for one,” Slade says, standing up, “we can’t have you running around with a millenia old secret without even attempting to teach you how to disappear first.” This is what gets your stomach to rebel. Bile is climbing up your throat. Dick, quick as a whip, holds a trash can out for you. You put your hand in front of you. You hold out your hand to stop him, not even sure if you had anything in your stomach aside from acid.

You had just started getting your life back together and then this. Shaking your head, you try to break the thought down into more manageable pieces before swallowing it. “Ok. ok. That makes sense. I guess.”

Dick pulls back still looking concerned. “You are taking this alarmingly well.”

You stare at him. Your stomach rolls again. "Do I have a choice?" You ask from behind your hand.

Slade huffs, "she's right, kid."

"Is he just gonna keep calling us kid or..."

"Considering he's got 700 years on the both of us?" Dick laughs like he didn't just hit you with a ton of bricks.

"Ah, so he's a museum piece. Got it." You deadpan and you're rewarded with another roll of laughter from Dick. Slade grunts but doesn't protest much more than that. You turn your focus to Dick. "So how old are you?"

"A lady never tells," Dick says, crows feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes. You blow air between your lips. "Lemme guess, you're like 2000 years old."

Dick makes a noise; it sounds offended. You don't much care, finally feeling a smile creeping on to your face. It doesn't hurt when you do not like everything else right now. That fact would be almost uncomfortable if you weren't so weary.

Folding your knees against your chest, you squish your face against your arms. "No seriously, old man. How old are you?"

"You're persistent." Dick hums.

"I want to know if I can cite you for my thesis on ancient greek culture."

Dick shakes his head. "You're better off citing him."

"Sadly, he's right Grayson is just a mere 27 years old."

You blink. He's— He's around your age. You breathe. "Ok so I'm not alone. Great."

"You're not," Slade says, "he was much harder to deal with."

"Do I have to keep mentioning that you shot me twice?" Dick asks crossing his arm sover his chest.

"Are you ever going to stop bringing it up?"

"When it stops working."

"It ever started."

From their banter, they're familiar with each other. The tiredness from before ebbs back in. You feel alone. Out of habit, you bury your head against your knees. There is something comforting about the stillness.

A warm hand settles on your shoulder. You jolt up, knocking the back of your skull against the headboard. It makes a loud thunk against the wall. Dick winces, pulling his hand away from you. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." You lied still seeing stars.

They look unconvinced. You don't quite care. "You look like you need a good meal."

"Or a hot shower," Slade suggests.

You think it over, hand on your stomach brain still looking for the bullet wound. Eyes flicking between both, you lick your lips before saying: "I'll take you up on that shower." Your eyes drift back down to your arms, concentrating on the small details, the imperfections you've gathered through the years. The thought that you won't be able to add more doesn't really register like it should.

Dick nods getting up to grab something. "I might need a couple of minutes in there," you say absently.

"Take all the time you need." Dick says handing you a towel and a fresh shirt. You accept them with a small nod, carefully peeling yourself away from the bed. Your eyes go into a tunnel vision, only focused on the door to the shower.

You stop, a hand gripping your wrist. The pressure is solid and reassuring. You turn back to see Dick, biting his cheek."It'll get better I promise."

You give Dick a crooked smile. "I'll probably feel a lot better when I'm not covered in blood."

"That always helps," Slade says flatly.

"You'd know."

"You really wanna scare her more right now?"

"It's just way too easy with you around."

"Please save the other world shattering revelations after my shower," You whine pulling the towel to your chest.

"Can't promise that." Slade says with a rumble that just radiates bastard.

You blow out a breath, raising a middle finger over your shoulder. It was a rude gesture you'd never normally even consider but it felt appropriate at this moment.

"Hope you don't mind pizza." Dick says already dialing the number.

You stop leaning against the door, face squished against the frame. "What kind?"

"Hnnnnn... I figure you would like ham and mushrooms."

With amusement, you note how Slade blanches quietly behind Dick. You quietly question both of their maturities. "how'd you figure oh wise ancient one?"

"Please don't ask him that."

"Why not? I'm curious to see how his mind works."

"You're going to regret that."

You cock your brow as Dick draws himself up. He reminds you of a pitcher winding up. "Because I'm a fun—guy, get it?"

Slade groans, hand on his face and for once he looks like an old man not like a terrifying wall of intimidation.

"You're right. I do regret it," you say, stifling a laugh,"anyway, if you'll excuse me, the shower is calling my name. You two love birds have fun."

Slade sits beside Dick, an arm wrapping around his waist. "You heard the lady. She told us to have fun," Slade rumbles into Dick's ear only loud enough for you to hear. You flush. Realization hitting you like a truck. The color of Dick's face mimicking yours as he shoves Slade's face away. That warm shower will now be a cold one, you think as you awkwardly shuffle into the bathroom.

Instead of a shower, you elected for a nice soak. You're too weary and rung out and you hadn't seen a decent bath tub in a few years so you took the chance. It's not like an infection from the tub could kill you, right?

You step out of the bathroom feeling refreshed if not a bit cold from your shirt. Dick's shirt was big but it stopped shy of your thighs. You couldn't really complain. You were just happy to get out of the blood soaked clothes.

You pad your way into the room and eyes are instantly on you. Slade quite blatantly stares at the curve of your ass as it peaks out from under your shirt. You think of scolding him but decide to leave that up to Dick who… is also staring at you… in the same area. He has the decency to look embarrassed when you catch him. Clearing his throat, Dick answers the knock on the door which just adds another set of eyes on you.

A poor pimple faced kid stands frozen at the door, slack jawed. His eyes dart around the room, frantically looking for a camera or something. You sigh. You too could see how this could be a lazy set up to a porn. You’re slightly flattered at the idea that you could be astronomically hot enough to be in a porn with either of these two but you’re more worried about the kid having to deal with a boner while he delivers pizzas. Dick, incredibly oblivious to the problem, seems to take his time looking for his wallet.

Slade, not oblivious to the problem, makes his way to the poor kid, looking as imposing as possible as he hands the kid a fifty. Whatever arousal the kid felt at the moment floods out of him along with any color in his face.

You snort plopping on to the bed and crossing your leg over the other and you watch as the men’s eyes widen as they trace the expanse of skin. This is the closest you will ever be to a bond girl.

Slade slams the door in the kids face, not even bothering with the change. Dick rolls his eyes with a crooked smile playing on his lips. “She hasn’t been with us for a day and you’re already acting possessive,” Dick laughs, patting Slade’s chest as he walks past.

Dick plops on the bed next to you. You press your cheek into his shoulder as he opens the box. The smell of greasy cheese and canned vegetables floods your nostrils in a concert of sweet, unhealthy goodness. Your stomach rumbles and your hand darts down to get a piece. Your hand jerks back as your skin tingles from the heat.

“Sorry, love, you can still feel pain.” Dick says, puckering his face as he blows the rising steam away. As if to be contrary, Slade grabs the largest slice and immediately takes a bite. You turn to Dick, raising a brow to ask. “Him? He’s just a weirdo.” Dick answers, grabbing his own slice. You roll your eyes grabbing your own slice.

Dick’s trying hard not to stare at your legs but ends up staring at your lips instead. “Do you have any spare pants?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

“I’ll get it,” Slade says before Dick can even stumble out a response, “clearly wonder boy hadn’t thought this through.”

You hum around another mouthful in agreement and Dick just looks at you betrayed. You uncross and recross your legs to prove your point.

Shifting away from Dick and swallowing the last bit of your pizza, you take the pants Slade offers you and you’re not at all surprised that it doesn’t fit right. “Any chance I can go back to my apartment? Even just for clothes?”

“Sadly no.”

“Should I ask?”

“Do you really feel like talking to cops right now, kid?”

“Yanno, you’re gonna have to distinguish between us at some point,” Dick huffs, opening a can of soda,”and she’s right we do need to get her new clothes.” He hands you a can. Not feeling parched, you just roll it in your palm feeling the need to indulge in the feeling on cool metal. You catch yourself before you tuck your legs against your chest again.

“I don’t see why you’re so hell bent on this, kid 1. You clearly like seeing her in your clothes.” Slade says, flatly the way you’d read out the summary of a particularly boring movie summary, probably based on a Nicholas Sparks novel.

“You think adding a number is enough effort to distinguish us?” Dick sneers, trying to distract from the flush of his cheeks.

“Would you prefer I call you ‘Sport’?”

“Dick, for both of our sake’s please accept being called Sport.”

“No!”

“How about ‘Chum’?”

Dick’s nose wrinkles at the name. You’re not sure if it’s the name itself, the way it rolls off of Slade’s tongue, or something to do with your dream. You don’t know Dick well enough to discern.

“Please don’t.” Dick tries politely and there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone. Slade seems to back off, easing into his chair.

You open your mouth wanting to pry but instead of asking the question on the tip of your tongue, you settle for asking for another slice. The air is full of questions but you’re not really sure which one to pluck out. Then again, you’ve got time. And really? Right now, that’s all you have.

Before you can dwell too much on that thought, Slade turns the TV on to drown out whatever Dick was saying. You’d tuned him out a little bit ago. It wasn’t really a matter of choice; it was more a matter of your brain going on power saving mode.

You blink sleepily, the voice of the anchor falling into a low hum in your mind. You’re pretty sure your name blips in between the static of words. There’s a dull recognition in the words ‘kidnapping’ and ‘suspects’ but it all seems so distant at the moment. No reaction registers upon realizing that they were probably talking about your kidnapping and really could anyone blame you when some cosmic fuckery just occurred and now your life has been turned on its head? ____________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading!

#dick grayson x reader #slade wilson x reader #Slade Wilson #dick grayson #slade wilson imagine #dick grayson imagine #crack au #poly

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Alright, another (very) spicy Sniper/Spy short!

Kids, stay out of this!

For the old folks, a friend (Dell, thank you!) gave me an idea that I turned into a short. What if Sniper asked Spy to try a vibrating toy. What if the Frenchman does not really warm up to the idea, but he nonetheless accepts, Sniper can be so convincing... :) And What if Spy ends up enjoying it more than he expected? Well, here it is!

"Spook? You wanted to see me? Oh, he's in the shower…"

Sniper entered the suite and went straight to the sofa, where he took a seat. He removed his glasses and hat, put them on the coffee table along with the small box he had brought, and leaned back. A few minutes later, the noise of the shower stopped and it pulled Sniper out of his daydream.

“Oh, mon amour, you came early this evening.” Spy peeked out of the shower, his hair still wet. He was only wearing a tanktop and a pair of shorts. Of course, regardless of the season, the French had to wear his satin gown on top of it all. Sniper always thought that he looked like a peacock when he walked with it and it flew after him, given the blue color with emerald green sheen.

“Disappointed?”

“On the contrary…” The Frenchman took a seat next to his lover and they hugged dearly, exchanging the usual greeting kisses.

“Mmh, you smell good, eh?”

“Well, as you see, I am freshly out of the shower.”

“Love it, and love ya.”

“Merci. But tell me, why did you come so early? We just finished dinner and I just came out of the shower. You usually take longer to join me here.” Spy asked.

“Yeah, well, I just… I mean it’s Friday and uh…”

“Oh, I see.” Spy smiled. “You are in the mood?” The Frenchman raised a malicious eyebrow.

“Kinda, but above all, I brought somethin’ here, and wanted you to try it.” Sniper nodded in the direction of the coffee table.

“Oh, what is this?” Spy took the box in his hands.

“Go on, open it.”

“Is it for me?”

“Yeah. For us, I mean. We can both use it but I want you to give it a go first.”

“You have my full curiosity, Mundy.” Spy opened the box on his lap, between the panes of his open, satin gown. “Oh, is it what I think it is?” Lucien raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Yup.”

“Mundy, as much as I love you and I love how we decide to spend our intimate time and explore it, this might be… complicated.” Lucien watched the small plastic object. He then extracted a remote from the box.

“Why? I mean, I promise I’ll prepare you right and all, like I always do.”

“I know, I trust you for that.” Lucien lowered his eyes.

“Then why? I know you like tyin’ me up and doin’ all sorts of things on me, have me, y’know, feel good a few times in a row and all. I just wanna try to do it on you.” I promise I’ll make you feel good and you don’t like it, I’ll be happy to be the only one usin’ it.”

“Have you ever used one of these before?” Lucien asked.

“Not really. I heard of them and got one, just for us to try. Wasn’t expensive either, so if it turns out it’s a lot of faff for nothin’, I’ll be happy to chuck it in the bin m’self.”

Lucien sighed.

“What is it, gorgeous?” Mundy gently asked, as he took his lover’s hand in his own.

“I… I am not sure you can ever achieve this.” Lucien answered, looking away.

“What? I’m not gonna be able to throw it away? Nah, I promise I will.”

“Non, you misunderstood me. Have you ever wondered why I like making you reach your peak a few times in a row?”

“I don’t know, guess it’s a kink of yours or somethin’.”

“Maybe, but why do you think it is so.” Lucien asked, raising his eyes to Mundy.

“I don’t know, never really wondered about it.”

“It is because I do not think I can do it myself anymore.” Lucein wrapped his arms around himself and looked away.

Mundy wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer.

“Hey, why d’you say that?”

“I used to be able to, when I was younger and now…”

“Are you sure you can’t do it?”

“The last time I managed, I was still with Jérémy’s mother. She… liked employing such, ahem, objects with me.”

“Look, I’ve got an idea.” Mundy said and Lucien raised his eyes to him again. The Aussie lovingly held his chin. “You give me a chance, just once. If it doesn’t work, then you use it on me and I won’t ask you about it ever again. I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself or anythin’, but I’m also sure you can do it but you just never tried for… thirty odd-years. What d’you say?”

Lucien looked left and right, taking a second to ponder, before he nodded weakly.

“Alright, Lu’, thanks, darl’, you’re the best.” Mundy pushed his lips against Lucien.

“Go to bed and get off your clothes, I need to take a quick shower and I’ll come to you, yeah?”

“Fine.” Lucien nodded. “But please, be quick.”

“Don’t worry.” Mundy took Lucien’s hand and gently guided it to his own crotch. “Can’t wait…” He winked and added a little peck on his lover’s lip before leaving to the bathroom.

Lucien raised his hand and put it on his cheek, where Mundy’s lips were a second ago. His eyes lingered on the bathroom door until he released his breath with a smile.

A few minutes later, Mundy exited the shower and found his lover lazily lying on his stomach. Lucien was reading a magazine that he had splayed on his pillow. The box that Mundy had brought was on his night table.

“Alright, c’mere, you pretty thing…” Mundy lay on top of his lover, kissing his back and his shoulders.

“You are out of the shower already?”

“Yup, want me to go abck in there?” The Aussie chuckled.

“Non, of course not.”

“C’mere then.” Mundy had him roll to face himand started kissing him with an open mouth. He wasted no time to add the French to the kiss and that told Lucien just how eager the otherwise patient marksman was.

Lucien melted between the licks and the bites along his ears, his neck and his chest. In no time, both were breathing heavily and exchanging moans.

“Gosh, you feel so good…”

“Oh - and you are decidedly fast tonight.” Lucien opened his eyes when he felt Mundy fist lazily stroking both of their masculinities against each other.

“Been wantin’ you all day long today - God, you’re hot…”

“So have I.” Lucien added and Mundy dived down to lock his lips with his lover, brushing his tongue over them before he hugged Lucien’s with it. It pulled a moan out of the Frenchman’s body and he arched his back, letting Mundy slide a hand behind his back fefor it slid down to knead his tender flesh.

“Alright, darl’...” Mundy whispered in Lucien’s ear. He grabbed the bottle on the night table and spread some of its content on his fingers. “C’mere, sweet thing…”

Lucien rolled on his side and Mundy lay on his side too, facing him and holding him close. His hand slithered down until he found his lover’s entrance.

“Gimme yer lips… Mmh, there we go…”

“Mmh?”

“Shh.. You’re doin’ good, don’t worry, darl’, I got you, it’s like always.”

Lucien hooked his leg over Mundy’s to give him better access and let his lover do the work. Mundy went slowly and carefully, keeping his lover’s lips and tongue busy while his fingers gently massaged Lucien open.

“There we go, it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“N-non.”

“Don’t be so anxious, so far it’s business as usual.” Mundy added a few pecks on Lucien’s cheek and down in his neck.

“I know, I just… can’t help it, I apologise.” Lucein was holding on to his lover’s chest dearly.

“Ssh, don’t say nonsense.” Mundy whispered “You’re gonna love it, and if you don’t I’ll chuck it away and we can do somethin’ else, eh?”

“Merci… I think I am ready.”

“You sure?”

“Oui, thank you.”

Mundy pressed his lips against Lucien before he rolled on his side and grabbed the little plastic object. “Take it in your hand.”

“Shouldn’t it go in-?”

“I know, I know, but first, hold it in your hand.” Mundy insisted and Lucien obeyed. “now, here’s the remote. You press on the button.”

Lucien did as he was told.

“Ooh! That took me by surprise.” The Frenchman said as the toy started vibrating in the palm of his hand. “It feels like a tickle in my hand, and it is not too noisy.”

“See? it’s gentle and we’ll go gentle. If it’s too much, you tell me and we stop it, ok?”

“Oui.”

“Wanna put it in yourself?”

“Oui, please.”

“Alright, you do it and you start it all yourself.” Mundy gave Lucien the remote.

“Non, please.” He gave it back. “I want you to be in charge.” he raised lovestruck eyes to the Aussie, who answered with an equally soft smile.

“Alright, you tell me when you’re ready and I can start.”

Lucien nodded. He took a few seconds to make sure it was correctly inserted before he rolled on his stomach and lay there, on the bed, as if he was waiting for a back massage.

“I am ready.”

“You sure?”

“Oui, go ahead.”

“I’ll start with the slowest settin’.” Mundy pushed the button and a gentle buzz filled the room. “Here.” The Aussie started rubbing Lucien’s back as the Frenchman focused on his breath, with his eyes closed. “How’s it feel?”

“Not too bad so far.”

“Good, you tell me when you want me to stop.”

"Mundy?"

“Yeah?”

“Can you push it a notch faster please?” Lucien asked and Mundy’s eyebrows jumped.

“You sure?”

“Oui, please, I want to feel it harder.”

“Alright.”

The buzz went slightly louder and higher in pitch.

“Oh, mon Dieu…” Lucien pushed his thighs slightly more open and grabbed the pillow under his head.

“Everythin’ alright?”

“O-oui, I… Hah… I didn’t think it would… work this well…”

Mundy smiled as Lucien gritted his teeth and frowned.

“Turn on your back, darl’, show me how good you feel.”

Lucien obeyed and it took him a second to adjust to being on his back now, but as soon as he did, the toy in him was pressed on his sweet spot again and the Frenchman moaned.

“Ooh, look at you leakin’...” Mundy wiped the threed of obscene wetness at the end of Lucien’s more-than-pink extremity. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

“Wha-Mundy?!”

The Aussie went on his belly, between Lucien’s open thighs and started licking at his lover’s member.

“M-Mundy, please, be gentle, please…!” Lucien took two fistfuls of his lover’s hair and pulled on it to push him away. He moved his legs but each time it hit a different angle inside him, his thighs would shake.

“Aha, look who’s beggin’ now, eh? And the more you pull my hair the more I wanna keep goin’...!”

“P-please, hah… I-I can’t help it, it’s-it’s intense, Mundy, I-...”

“I got an idea, don’t come until I come back, I’ll just be a second.” Mundy moved away and Lucien focused on the delicious vibrations, his eyes closed and he frowned again. “Here we go.”

“M-Mundy, what are you-orh! I-I can't do anything… I…”

Mundy chuckled as he finished tying Lucien’s wrists above his head together with one of his ties, as teh Frenchman sometimes did to him.

“You close?”

“O-oui… I… I am…” Lucien panted and looked for his breath. “May I… Please? Please I am so close, I can’t even move my legs or I might…”

“On my signal, youcome, ok?”

“Please, Mundy…!” Lucien begged and Mundy took his member as far as he could. The Frenchman gasped at the feeling of warmth and soon, tightness and wetness. “Please! Mundy?”

The Aussie sucked just a bit harder and Lucien’s reacted against his will, sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Ah! I am sorry! Hah! M-Mundy, I am so sorry!” He pleaded as his hips jerked on their own and Mundy suckled. The sound of Lucien’s own voice and of Mundy’s sucking drowned him and soon, he could only whimper weakly.

“There we go…” Mundy left his lover’s masculinity with a loud enough pop for Lucien’s eardrum to slap. “Now, you relex, baby, shhh, I’m here…” He put a hand on Lucien’s chest and felt his heart racing. “You’re alright.”

“Hah, I apologise, Mundy, I…”

“You did everythin’ perfectly and ou came on my signal, taht’s all I asked you, darl’, you were perfect.”

“Ah-!”

The overstimulation got to the Frenchman soon and he started sliding his legs on the bed, helpless, his hands still above his head, maintained by one of Mundy’s hands.

“It’s alright, that’s normal, love, enjoy it.” Mundy whispered down his lover’s ear. “Just breathe, ok?”

“Oui, oui…” Lucien calmed down and soon, the feeling passed.

“Now, let me have a taste at you…” Mundy lay next to his lover and bent to his chest. He wrapped his lips around Lucien’s nipples and suckled gently. The Frenchman started moaning again, his masculinity giving the occasional twitch. “Mmmh, you taste so good…” Mundy played with the other nipple between his fingers. “There we go, baby, how d’you feel?”

“G-good, better.” Lucien’s eyes were shut out of tiredness now. His hair stuck to his forehead.

“Then, let me just do somethin’... There.”

“Oh! Mundy!”

The toy whirred a notch faster and Lucien’s hips jerked. Soon his masculinity stood back up again.

“Mundy… Orh… This feels amazing!”

The Aussie let go of his lover’s tied wrists and Lucien left them above his head. He started rolling his hips, twisting them a bit to the left, a bit to the right and yelping whenever the new angle surprised him.

“Told you you’d like it, you needy thing…” Mundy whispered before moving between Lucien’s legs, he parted them wider and licked at what the Frenchman offered below his throbbing end.

“Oh! Mundy!”

The Aussie took them in his mouth and sucked, pushed the soft and tender flesh with his tongue. He could hear the deafened buzz inside his lover through the loud moaning of the Frenchman.

"How's it feel now?"

"I… I don't know if I will… go till the end but this… it feels… heavenly…"

"Aw" Mundy moved to whisperin Lucien's ear. "You gorgeous, little thing, focus on the feelin' right inside you and I'm sure you'll do it a second time in a row, no doubt about it."

"H-help me… please help me try…" Lucien pleaded and Mundy put his hand on the Frenchman's member. He stroked it and pumped in rhythm with Lucien's hips rolling.

"If only you could see yourself… You're beautiful when you're like that, covered in sweat and moanin', you look like you're about to cry of pleasure…"

"Non… It is not pleasure…”

Mundy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He grabbed the remote and turned the toy off. The buzzing sharply stopped and the only sound left was that of Lucien still breathing heavily. He opened his eyes little by little.

“What is it? Why did you stop?” He asked, his vision still blurry.

“You just said you weren’t about to cry out of pleasure but out of somethin’ else!” Mundy answered. “Why didn’t you say earlier if it hurt? Turn on your belly, I’ll remove it for you. I’m sorry, Lu’, I never meant for it to hurt.”

“It didn’t.” Lucien frowned.

“Then what the hell d’you mean?”

Lucien sighed.

“I am… I am just… anxious.”

“About what?”

Lucien pushed himself to sit up and Mundy wrapped his arms around him.

“I do not wish to disappoint you.” He admitted, ashamed.

“How could you disappoint me? Love, I told you, if it doesn’t work, it’s fine, I don’t care, I just wanna try and give back as much as you’re givin’ me. You make me feel so happy and I love it when you take care of me multiple times in a row, I really do. I just wanna make you feel the same, or at least try. I won’t think any less of you if you don’t do it. And even if you do and you don't like it, screw it all, I’ll never do it again to you, ever.”

“Do you really mean what you are saying?” Lucien raised his eyes to his lover.

“Course, I do.” Mundy pulled him in a hug and Lucien buried his head in his lover’s chest. “Love you more than anythin’ else…”

Lucien closed his eyes and basked in the comfort he himself didn’t know he had needed.

“There’s plenty of things you don’t like, right? Like uh, my cheap coffee, my shampoo, my cologne or however you pronounce that, my van… Have I ever forced you to drink my coffee or wash your hair with my stuff? Nah, never, and I’d never force you to use that thing I brought if you don’t like it, it’s the same, darl’.”

“You are wrong.” Lucien answered and pulled himself out of the embrace to look his lover in the eye.

“What?”

“I have grown to enjoy your bitter coffee, the smell of your shampoo and the narrowness of your van, because they are all parts of you and I would not suffer to live without any of them.”

Mundy smiled.

“You’re the best and sexiest liar I’ve ever met.” He answered.

“And I am so good at it that even when I am being sincere, you think it is still a lie.” Lucien answered.

“Nah, I’m just messin’ with ya.” Mundy pulled Lucien’s face to him and kissed both of his cheeks, one after the other. “I know you’re tellin’ the truth.”

“How so?”

“You got the eyes.”

“What eyes?” Lucien asked.

“The ‘I love you’ eyes.” Mundy answered. “The eyes that I’ve neer seen you look at anyone else with except me.” He grinned sweetly, stroking both of Lucien’s cheeks with his rough thumbs.

“I am sorry for my awkwardness.”

“Don’t be silly. You did nothin’ wrong, I get it, you’re nervous. Tell you what, if you want, we can start it again and I'll help ya. Or if you’re tired, we can stop here. what would you prefer?”

Lucien looked up at his lover and offered him his lips, which Mundy gladly took.

“Please take me again...”

“Course, sweetheart, anythin’ for you…” Mundy pushed Lucien to lie down with his kiss and without saying anything, he pressed the button on the remote a couple of times. Lucien closed his eyes and hissed. “Shhh, you’re fine, you’re fine, I’m here… Now, let me help, yeah?”

“Orh… Mundy, please, be gentle…”

“As gentle as you’re needy.” Mundy smiled and saw Lucien’s lips purse in an equally sweet smile even though his eyes were closed. “There we go, beautiful smile.” He lay again between Lucien’s open legs and savoured his lover’s sensitive bits while his hand stroked up and down. The wetness helped Mundy’s hand to slide more fluidly and soon the Frenchman rocked his hips in rhythm. His mouth fell open and he moaned out loud again, rales of lust, of a pleasure he ignored. Mundy moaned too, the vibrations of his voice helping.

“M-Mundy, I am so close but I-I can’t, I really cannot, Mundy, help me, arh…!”

Mundy raised his head and his lips let go of Lucein’s masculinity.

“Alright, here comes.” The Aussie sat on his lover’s pelvis and took him in.

“N-non, this does not… help… Ah! Please, Mundy, I am so close, I want to do it!”

That’s when Mundy noticed Lucien had been drooling.

“I need… something… in my mouth, please…”

“Alright, darl’, open up…” Mundy shifted and this time he was on his knees, straddling Lucien’s head. He guided his own member and as soon as Lucien’s lips made contact with it, the Frenchman raised his head off the bed and took as much as he could of it. Mundy gasped loudly and lowered his body more, to give Lucein what he needed. “gosh, you’re so needy, arh, y-eah, take it, baby, take it all you want…”

Mundy kept on wiping Lucien’s hair off of his face while the Frenchman was licking and sucking the Aussie’s masculinity with abandon. The wet noises slashed in the constant deafened buzz. Yet, Lucien wanted still more, he moaned pleadingly and Mundy lowered himself further, all the way to the hilt.

“That what you’ve been wantin…? Gosh, you’re a sight…” Mundy held Lucien’s head between his hands and Lucein weakly bobbed his head. Mundy understood and still holding his lover’s head, he let him lay it on the bed while he did the work with his hips. “Want it deep? Take it then, there we go…”

Lucien couldn’t moan anymore and he opened his eyes barely enough for Mundy to see that they were rolled up in pleasure.

“God, you’re gorgeous… Orh, and you’re suckin’ it, still, eh? Y’know what you deserve? Yeah, you do, I’m gonna give it to you, darl’, give it to you soon.”

“Mmmh…” Lucien thanked him. But Mundy noticed his slight frown.

“You’re sweatin’ an ocean and I can feel you spasmin’, you must be so close, aren’t you?”

“Mmh…!” Lucien agreed and the Aussie chuckled.

“Keep on suckin’, want it a bit deeper? I removed it so you can breathe a bit.”

Lucien raised his head and Mundy pushed his hips back to the hilt.The Frenchman rolled his eyes up in bliss again and Mundy pushed the button on the remote.

“Mmh! Mmmh! Hmmh!”

“I think I’m gonna come too, baby, you go ahead, let it come to you, don’t hold it back, come darl’, come!”

“Mmmmmh!”

“Aaargh!”

Both reached their peak, one down his lover’s throat and the other crying of pleasure. He could not believe it and his brain could not process it. He let the pleasure wash him inside out as he moaned, Mundy’s member deep inside him, he felt the heat, the weight of it, as well as the spasms. He missed the taste of his release as it went a bit too far for his mouth to take it. Lucien whined and cried.

“You did it! You did it, love, I told you!” Mundy gently withdrew and lay on his lover, kissing him with an open mouth. “See…? Mmmh… I told you, I told you you’d feel so bloody good, I told you you’d like it… I’m so happy for you, I’m so proud, c’mere…!” He hugged him dearly and kissed, relentlessly, again and again; for so long in fact that Lucien’s tired body gave up on kissing back.

“M-Mundy…? Hah, please? Please Mundy…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, what is it, tell me.” Mundy wiped his lover’s tears off of his face and Lucien arched his eyebrows.

“More, please, the remote…”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Mundy pushed it up a notch higher and Lucien’s thighs and legs started spasming. “You’re here with me, nothin’s gonna get to you, love, I’m holdin’ you tight, if you wanna give me one more, you give it to me. I love you and you’re doin’ amazin’, you hear me? Amazin’, I’m telling you. Now, you breathe and let it come to you.”

“Mundy?” Lucien sniffled.

“It’s normal, it’s fine, if you wanna cry again, do it, go ahead, love, I’m so happy..”

“Mundy…?” Lucien curled up against his lover’s chest.

“Yeah, love, I’m right here and I’m squeezin’ you against me. Here, let me just-”

“Ah!”

“Yeah, I’ll help it out of you, yeah? Is that alright?” Mundy’s hand found Lucien’s fatigued masculinity and the Frenchman couldn’t but hold his breath and burst out in gasps.

“Oui, please… I’m so close, how…? How can this…? Arh, please, help me… Oui, like this, oui, oui…!”

Mundy stroked faster and quickly understood that Lucien’s hips were burnt out, he couldn’t roll them anymore, so the Aussie doubled his efforts.

“Oh….? Oh, Mundy…?” Lucien asked breathily.

“Yeah? It’s comin’? It’s comin’, isn’t it? You got it, love, get it out of you, get it out, baby…” Mundy coaxed his lover while Lucien dug his nails deeper and deeper in his lover’s chest, he curled up more, his abs contracting furiously in an attempt to push that wave of bliss out of his system. Lucien gritted his teeth until-

“MUNDY!”

He burst out sobbing, his body contracting erratically but barely anything splattered on his lover’s hand. Mundy stopped the toy from the remote but Lucien’s body continued to spasm past that for a few minutes. He was catching his breath heavily, his system was out.

Mundy sat up and untied his lover’s wrists. He then turned him on his side to remove the toy before he slid one arm below Lucien’s shoulders and the other under his knees.

“C’mere…” Mundy lifted him off of the bed and carried him to the bathroom. “We both need a good wash and hot water…”

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #spice

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