#i was on my knees begging for long arm of the law to come back

[amani-outrider]

I will never forgive the paladin dev for teasing us with long arm of the law as a talent and then going “lol JK we don’t want you to have that :) you’re stuck with your shitty horse. Have fun!”

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter��than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[wuwapetal1s]

write anything abt geshu lin or calcharo im begging on my hands and knees ill give u my first born or a kidney whichever u want

I don't need any organs can I have a pair of knees maybe (ty for the request anon :3)

Love languages

content: sfw, rambling-ish format, not entirely proofread (it's midnight currently), swearing used, etc.

reqs open!

— Calcharo.

Calcharo is an ‘acts of service man’ through and through. To me, he doesn't seem the best at giving affection verbally though he thinks he's *very* good at it personally. As in, you will ask him for comfort or reassurance and he'll give it to you readily… But it will sound so stern coming from him.

“I feel uncomfortable with [such and such]..”

“I understand. I will rectify/fix that.”

Communication KING, though I imagine it can still feel very intimidating to bring stuff up to him. It will always be met with understanding, and he certainly would try his hardest to accommodate what language/tone you'd rather hear in those moments (autistic.)

Getting back to the original point, he will do just about anything for you. There's hardly any limits or rules to that fact. He will kill for you, he will fight for you, he will get in trouble with the law for you, etc etc. He'll also grab extra of your snacks the moment he's back in town and stops at the market before he goes to visit you.

Tired from a long day at work or studying? He'll clean up as quietly as he can while you sleep. You'll wake up to all the dishes done and your living space looks pretty much spotless.

He's the kind of man to learn how you organize things pretty easily, even if you're a very messy person. He's very clued in on anything that involves you (smitten, much?) and he's also just got a keen eye on him.

"Ugh, I can't find where I left my-”

“Bottom drawer of the nightstand.”

“Oh.. Thank you!”

He loves holding and kissing you as well, it's his favorite thing to be welcomed home to. Just the ability to sink into your arms is like heaven to him. Receiving, he probably likes physical touch a lot more, but he feels 100x more satisfied doing something for you to show he cares :).

— Genshu Lin.

Genshu Lin is a possessive man. It's subtle, but it's definitely there. Above all else, he adores you. He's a deeply devoted person when in a relationship, though I don't feel like he's had a lot of experience to pinpoint that exactly, but it's his nature. I believe he enjoys gifting you things he gets his hands on, trinkets or otherwise.

He mostly enjoys giving you things you can make use of or wear. He always gets a warmth in his chest when he sees you in the bracelet he got you (one that matches his that he keeps tucked away for safekeeping) or using pens he gave you after you kept losing your last ones. As long as it works, suits you, and it means a lot to you, he's snatching it up.

I also believe he's a sucker for stealing kisses in private. He may not seem it to anyone else, but he's a softie. Just for you though. Cooking something or simply sitting around? Funny how his lips just found their way to your cheek!

He's a bit more apprehensive about receiving it unless it's the time you two lay in bed together, then he'd let you rub his back or play with his hair. In return, he most enjoys quality time.

Even if it's something as mundane as running an errand or having to pick something up from the pharmacy he wants you there. He'd tell you “I don't need your presence, I just prefer it” if questioned, but he does need it. More than he knows or even lets on, he wants you and needs you there. He hates having to be away from you. It drives him up a wall almost. Like nearly insane.

After long hours working or even days/weeks of it he wants nothing more than to just lay with you and bathe in your presence as if it's a balm for his soul :’).

I love these men they're so fine

[lale-txt]

what gets their heart pounding... ♡ [partly ns.fw] ↳ w/ Zoro, Sanji, Smoker, Rayleigh, Roger, Shakky

♁ pt. 1 w/ Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Shanks, Benn

a/n: when i tell you this prompt hasn't left my mind... so of course there's a part 2! still so many blorbos to explore with this. it's a mix of fluff and smut again, so be aware before reading. reader is gn! small cw for use of "daddy" on Shakky's part (i have no explanation for this except that i'm weak and on my knees for her)

Zoro

you helping him with the clasp of one of his earrings, your face awfully close to his while your fingers brush over his skin, careful not to hurt him

the same fingers tracing the scar over his eye when you think he’s asleep in your lap, his heart about to jump out of his chest from your touch

your soft chuckle when you notice his blushing cheeks, however he’s not hiding it because it would mean he’d have to give up resting his head on your thighs 

when he finds out that it’s even better to rest his face between your thighs, making them shake with his skilled tongue

the way you pull his hair when the stimulation gets too much, forcing him up to your lips for a kiss, giving you a taste of yourself before he goes down on you again, drunk on you 

feeling your tight entrance being stretched little by little as his cock slides inside you, your chest heaving as you mewl out his name, sucking greedily on his fingers while you take him so, so well

Sanji

your happy face after taking the first bite of something he cooked just for you, a smile so wide for him in return; he still sees it like a photograph when he closes his eyes

how you roll up the sleeves of his shirt for him when he doesn’t have a hand free, your fingertips brushing over his skin, giving him goosebumps

the way you pronounce his name, as if you’re blowing a kiss for him with the second syllable, dripping from your lips like honey

your hand in his hair as you guide him to the aching arousal between your thighs, asking him to be a good boy for you

your sweet praise when he looks at you love-drunk as you pull him up by his hair, his lips glistening with your juices

him trying not to cum immediately from the way your tight hole twitches around him when he enters you in one go, filling you up completely 

you on all fours and your cries, begging him to go harder, as his hands dig in the flesh of your hips, watching his cock glide in and out of you in a broken rhythm

Smoker

the mischievous twinkle in your eyes when you reply “yes, sir” to his orders

your silhouette at night when you’re waiting for him at the same spot as always, an unlit cigarette dangling from your lips 

the way your faces almost touch when you lean in close to light your cigarette at his cigar, how you take your time and gaze upon him through long lashes

his gloved hand around your neck as he takes the other glove off with his teeth, spitting it to the side before his bare hand slides into your pants for the first time 

your fingers clinging onto his jacket, watching you crumble as he wrecks your body with pleasure from a few strokes alone

the tears in the corner of your eyes as you sob out another broken “yes, sir” every time he asks you if you’ll be good for him, his fingers rubbing that one sweet spot inside of you 

your face resting against his chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high, while your curious hands already unbuckle his belt, being nothing but greedy for him

Rayleigh

the quiet mornings in the ship’s kitchen when it’s just the two of you, sharing the newspaper like an old married couple, no words needed

how you touch his arm gently when you want his attention, as if his thoughts weren’t radiating around you only all the time already

Roger and Gaban patting his back and encouraging him to be honest about his feelings after watching you two exchange longing gazes across the room for months, both of you hesitant to take the first step

your lips finally crashing against each other, a hungry kiss to make up for all the times he only thought about it but never dared to tilt your chin up

the way you moan his name when he fingers you, feeling your tight hole twitch around him, your eyes rolling back when he makes you cum for the third time, getting you close to overstimulation

your pretty little mewls when he fucks you bent over the kitchen table in the morning, not caring about the newspaper anymore, only the lews sounds of flesh on flesh as he fills you up with his thick hot load, moments before your crewmates approach

Roger

the absence of fear in your eyes when the ship docks at a new island and he grabs your hand to run off exploring it with you

the way you’re not letting go off his hand, ever, and realizing how perfectly it fits into his, almost disappearing in it

you mumbling out his name in your sleep when you dozed off on deck and he carries you to bed

feeling your piercing gaze on him through the hazy dark of your cabin, your tired but pleading voice asking him to stay, making it impossible for him to refuse

you climbing on top of him the moment he lays down beside you; your hands, your lips, all of you exploring every inch of him

your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock, licking up salty drops of pleasure before you take him down your throat until sounds of gagging and muffled moans fill the room 

his fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks in your thighs as you straddle him and sink down on his length slowly, struggling from the girth of it but unable to stop your hips from rolling, until you finally take him all in and cum from the sensation of it alone

Shakky

you taking her hand over the bar counter when you learn her husband is gone often and playfully proposing to her, promising her with a loud laugh you’ll treat her better

Rayleigh smiling and winking at her after your drunk confession many nights later, you hiding your face in embarrassment while you can’t stop stuttering out all the things you like about her

your shy kisses after you helped her close the bar and your weak knees after the confession falls from her lips

your kisses getting braver once you’ve invited her over in the safety of your own home, your hands lingering on the bare skin between her pants and her shirt before she guides you where she wants to feel you

hearing you call her “daddy” accidentally and feeling something awaken in her, making you repeat what you just said with a mischievous grin 

the sounds of you gagging on her strap as you take her so greedily despite her telling you to slow down, your pleading eyes seeking her gaze before you take her down your throat again

your shaking legs on her shoulders as she kisses and bites the insides of your thighs, her strap stretching you so deliciously as she makes a mess out of you

[munsonmuses]

Meeting in the Middle

Part Two Here

Synopsis: with the awkwardness split and the tension broken, you and Eddie are now sprinting to meet in the middle

Themes: healing wounds, coming to terms, falling back in love, friends to lovers to enemies and back to lovers

Warnings: mild drug usage, crying, and smut! The once in the blue moon happened!!! Addie wrote smut!!

Word count: 3.1k

Eddie’s end of the call was a bit frantic, consisting of him stubbing out a cigarette that was freshly lit, shoving past Gareth who was stoned as all hell beside him, and fumbling to get his reeboks back on as he hummed nervously. Gareth sitting up as he watched Eddie’s frantic rushing around the room as he quirked a brow, his girlfriend Daphne sprawled across his lap as he made sure not to knock her off of his lap.

“Dude…what’re you doing?” He asked softly as he carefully let his head pull to the side, it suddenly feeling too heavy after a few decent puffs from the rickety and well stained bong on the ground. Eddie panting lightly as he fixed his hair back into a low bun. “Josie needs me.” He insisted as Gareth frowned lightly. “Does she really? You’ve spent all this time calling her a succubus and treat each other like shit.” He reminded as Eddie scoffed, searching his dresser and drawers for his keys as he muttered under his breath. “Succubi are sexy, that’s why I call her that. Everyone calls her Josie because she liked Josie and the Pussycats as a kid. So I’ve never fucking hated her man. Not ever. I’ve loved her since before I knew what that shit was and I’m not gonna fuck up again.” He snapped back as he found his keys.

“When her dad died she begged for me and I was too scared. I ran from her. I ran from her when she needed me so fucking badly. I’m tired of running okay.” He insisted softly as he shuddered harshly. “I’m tired of running because I am afraid of having a heart. Because I am afraid of having feelings. I have spent so long being terrified of having feelings, that I didn’t even realize what I was missing till I saw her slip through my fingers.” He asserted before storming out, passing Wayne on the way out and hopping into the van. Speeding his way to family video, traffic laws be damned.

He swung into the parking lot, haphazardly throwing the car into park and walking to the glass doors of Family Video. Going to pull the door open before feeling the pull of the lock, growling in frustration as he knocked on the glass with his keys. “Harrington?! Buckley?! Let me in come on!” He shouted as he watched Robin frantically run to the door, struggling to get it open.

“I uh, shit, I showed her the ho-horse movie?! You know the the the the one that you told me too? And she uh, fuck! She started crying and it hasn’t stopped.” Robin spoke frantically as she led him to the back, Eddie nearly shattering at the sight of you.

You were curled up on the couch, sobbing desperately as Sara tried to soothe you by running her nails over your scalp. Humming softly as your wails echoed. Steve backed into a corner as he nervously chewed on the sides of his thumbs. Gesturing towards your sobbing self as Eddie made his way over. Shaking out his arms and shoulders as he crouched in front of you.

“Hey there…why so sad, a succubus like yourself shouldn’t be so sad, you’ve got a lot goin’ for you…” he tried as you turned to look at him, droplets of salty sadness clinging to your lashes as he gently wiped the tears. Looking back at the three as he hummed. “I’m gonna take her home okay? You guys uh…close up, do what you’ve gotta do.” He insisted as he carefully hooked his arms under your knees and shoulders, Sara placing your purse in your lap and wishing you goodbye. Carrying you out to the van as he carefully worked on setting you into the passenger seat. Buckling you in as he frowned. Rounding the front and clamoring into the drivers seat. Starting up the van as REO Speedwagon played softly along the radio.

“Why’d you have to fucking…pick that movie?” You whispered as he carefully reversed, looking over his shoulder as he hummed lightly to himself. Thinking quietly as he chewed on his lower lip. “I uh…I really thought it would be nice…that you’d like it a whole bunch, and that’s you’d remember.” He whispered as he pulled onto the main road. Driving relatively silently, which was out of character…but comfortable.

“I did remember…and it made me so mad Eddie. It made me more than mad. It made me sad and confused. I’ve tried to get past it, I’ve tried dating…especially dating the opposite of you. I tried dating Andrew fucking Harper. He’s the one who wears that hat everywhere, hangs around Jason…he wasn’t like you. I wanted you. I only wanted you…and I couldn’t have you.” You whispered as you chewed on your lip. “I don’t even know you anymore but you’ve slotted right back into place and it pisses me off. Why do you just get to come back Eddie? Why do you just get to fit right back into my arms and my heart…why do you get to do this? And why am I letting you?” You murmured as you turned to look at him. His eyes trained on the road ahead, tears brimming in his big chocolate eyes as he cleared his throat. “I uh…I dunno…maybe we’re intertwined. I’m the…I’m the demon king, you my loyal succubus?” He tried to find humor in the situation as you scoffed lightly, his unrelenting awkwardness bringing you a sense of joy. Choosing to break the tension, you prompted him with a question. “You hungry…?” You whispered lightly as he grinned, licking his bottom lip in thought. “Starving honestly.”

It wasn’t a long ride to the tiny excuse of a McDonald’s, the both of you ordering as you fished your wallet from inside your purse. Ordering through the crackly speaker and having your order read back to you by a stoned teenager. Handing Eddie a ten as he hummed contentedly. Paying and taking the greasy brown bag as he parked the van.

Rifling through the bag, Eddie grinned eagerly. Clearly his high was catching up to him as he carefully set the bag down on the console. “We’ve got a large fry and a quarter pounder with cheese, extra pickles and mayonnaise for the lady~ and a large fry, a filet o fish with double cheese and an apple pie for myself…” he crooned. “And your disgusting orangeade.” He laughed out while sticking his tongue out in mock disgust as you rolled your eyes. “You’re drinking a root beer and eating a filet o fish, you don’t get to judge me Munson. Plus orangeade is like…carbonated tang, or sunny d.” You reasoned as he rolled his eyes. “Plus I paid! You don’t get to complain.” You bargained as he scoffed. “Ah yes our fine dining, surmounting to a whopping five dollars and seventy cents…” he teased as he ate his filet o fish, carefully chewing away as you ate in silence. “Is this a date?” You suddenly asked as you looked at him. “Because it feels like one Eddie…” you murmured as he choked on his meal, wiping his mouth and chugging down his root beer to quell his suffocating fishy sandwich.

“I…I’m not sure, do you want it to be?” He asked softly as he wiped the mayo from the corner of his lips as you hummed. “I uh…yeah I’d like to have it be a date…” you insisted softly as you carefully wiped your mouth and hummed nervously. “I want to be dating.” You clarified as he carefully quirked a brow. “I want to be your girlfriend…we’ve done the little dance…but we can do this dance backwards? Start dating…while figuring out everything we need to know about each other backwards?” You explained as he stared at you incredulously, quietly nodding. “I’m not a really conventional guy…so yeah I guess I could do that. I’ve got a lotta making up to do anyways.” He insisted softly as he reached over slowly.

His calloused fingers linked with yours, slow and nervous, palms clammy and fingertips bumping before they finally settled together. The both of you letting out a joint exhale as he laughed loudly, pumping his free fist in the air. “Fuck…yes! God yes this is what I’ve been gunning for. Oh my god I can bring you to hellfire…I can bring you to the hideout, I can show you the songs I wrote for you…” he rambled as you laughed. “And youuu, can join me at football and basketball games to take pictures and make spreads for yearbook, to Lynnie’s girlscout meetings, and you can go to do boring shit with me…” you insisted as he clicked his tongue. “Only because it’s for you…” he insisted slowly. Leaving you both in a contented, relieving silence as you carefully finished up your fries and smiled lightly. Letting Eddie drive you back home.

You carefully took Eddie inside with you once home, kicking off your shoes as you hummed lightly. Padding into the kitchen as Eddie followed, finding a note on the fridge that your mom picked up a late shift, and Marilyn would be staying with her friend Maxine just two streets down. Carefully crumpling up the letter and tossing it into the trash as you pried the fridge open. Eddie’s hips pressed to yours as he reached past you for a can of beer and a lemon square in the fridge.

“Well…I think we should do boyfriend and girlfriend things…so we can watch a movie, you can stay the night…” you offered as Eddie shrugged. “Sure…yeah that works for me.” He insisted through a mouthful as you gagged playfully in disgust at his actions. “Whatever you nasty…I’m gonna go change into pajamas, keep yourself entertained.” You insisted softly as you padded upstairs, watching as Eddie immediately went about with his allowed snooping and grinning. The house just fit so well around him, he was meant to be here.

You trekked to your room, deciding on a shower to ease the sweat from the workday away from your skin. Starting up the hot water and prepping your towels and pajamas. Consisting of a long shirt and some shorts. Getting yourself stripped down and taking a deep breath as the warm water eased your muscles. Lathering the coconut like shampoo and conditioner into your scalp, and pairing it with body wash as you scrubbed yourself down. You were happy, you had that closure with Eddie. You were supposed to be happy, so why couldn’t you stop yourself from crying? Why were the tears flowing so freely? Was it relief? Or was it that you did love Eddie but knew you didn’t know him anymore?

You managed to shake the tears away as you sighed. You did love Eddie, you loved him so much, and you were excited to know Eddie. You couldn’t rob yourself of that experience. Shutting off the shower you got out to dry off, working on lotioning up your body, running your product through your hair, and dressing yourself carefully as you opened up your bathroom door. Shrieking in terror as you managed to scare Eddie to the ground during his snooping through your room as he held his chest.

“Jesus H. Christ babe! What the fuck?!” He called as you held your own, heaving lightly as he carefully got back to standing. A carebear clutched in his ring clad hand as you carefully relaxed. “I didn’t know you were in here, I’m sorry honey…put my carebear down please?” You prompted as he obliged, placing it back in its pile as you walked over to your tv in the corner of your room. Flipping it on and letting some random late night television play. Climbing into bed as Eddie removed his sneakers, jeans and jackets before joining you under the frilly comforter. Getting himself comfortable as you scoffed. “Nothing changes huh? You get real cozy wherever you are…” you commented as he shrugged lightly.

The two of you watched tv for a while, Eddie aimlessly playing with your hair before slowly looking at you as he hummed. “Since we’re like…dating, can I kiss you?” He asked softly as you carefully turned to face him. His features soft and lips semi parted as you thought quietly. Not giving a verbal answer, but pulling him in to kiss you as your lips melded together.

He held you close as he pressed his chest to yours, humming into it as his kisses tentatively trailed away from your lips, along your jaw and neck as his calloused hands ran up your hips. Thumbs rubbing circles into them as you leaned your head back a bit. Choosing to make up for lost time, as with Eddie it felt right.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart…” he murmured against your collarbone as his hands worked up your sides and to your breasts as you shuddered lightly. “I should have been here…we could’ve had this the whole time. You needed me…” he whispered as you ran your own hands up his shirt, along his spine as he hummed.

“It’s okay Eddie…you’re here now, you’re here right now and that’s all that matters to me.” You assured softly as you carefully lifted your hips, letting him work his fingers into your waistband. His rings cold against your hips as you smiled lightly. “I want to be here for you…” he whispered as you slowly worked your shirt off, Eddie sitting back to allow you to do so.

His lips latched onto your collarbones, working down the center of your chest. Leaving warm and deep kisses around your chest. Nipping at your left breast to leave a hickey, his right hand moving to lightly grope at you. Gently pinching your nipple as you moaned lightly. Head rolling back as he moved to straddle your left leg, his own slotting between your thighs as he hummed eagerly.

“Pretty girl I’m so sorry…” he cooed as he continued his gentle ministrations. You’d had sex before, you’d had flings, but this was love making. Eddie was showing you how dearly he loved you, how dearly he needed to be there for you. His right hand traveled down your stomach, down the curve of your hip before stopping at your waistband as you allowed him to work off your shorts and underwear. Tentative and gentle as his kisses traveled lower and lower. Crawling down the bed till his nose bumped against your clit as he hummed.

His lips lightly latched onto your clit, lightly sucking while applying pressure with his tongue. His thumb lightly grazing over your slit, carefully patting your lips to find your arousal pooling. Humming contentedly to himself as his kisses traveled down and his thumb took his lips place at your bundle of nerves. Rubbing in careful circles as his kisses deepened along your lips, pressing his tongue deep into you as he lapped slow and deep. He was worshipping you, paying careful attention to you, which he’d failed to do for so long before. Eating you out with nothing but adoration, his big eyes looking to your face for any indication of how you felt.

You were pressed into your pillows, lashes fluttering as you carefully held onto the back of his head. Feeling his tender lips working you with ease as you bit your lower lip. Head lulled back as you moaned deeply. Slowly pressing your thighs around his head as you groaned loudly to yourself. “So good Eddie, you’re doing so good for me…taking such good care of me…” you praised as he continued, now with a bit more confidence as he worked his tongue and thumb in synchronicity.

You felt your back arch as you gripped his hair in your fist, moaning desperately as you panted loudly. Whining in delirium as you felt your pent up anger and confusion unraveling. Nearly coming undone before Eddie pulled away. Mouth slick with your arousal as he smiled adoringly. Working off his shirt and boxers.

His body was littered with tattoos, some better than others. Trail of hair from his navel down to his hardening cock. twitching lightly and desperate for reprieve as you placed your hand behind his head. Pulling him into a kiss as you moaned desperately into his mouth.

Your hand took hold of his cock, languidly stroking him as you made light work of getting you both situated. Helping Eddie with the hard part as you lined him up, easing him an inch or two into you.

His head fell forward, biting his lower lip and whimpering out your name lightly as he eased into you. Slow and tender as he continued his sweet and light kisses. “So good for me honey…you feel so good, I adore you…” he murmured as he bottomed out. Earning a light whine from you as you kissed around his face. His hips stuttering as he began his languid and deep thrusts. Keeping a sensual rhythm as you panted out his name.

“It feels so good Eddie…fuck you’re so good, you’re so good to me honey…” you whined as you held his close, his forehead to yours as you kissed him lightly. Whimpering eagerly to yourself as you carefully dug your nails into his shoulders. You were both so pent up and angry, so sad, so distraught that you’d finally realized just how much you’d needed and wanted one another.

His thrusts stuttered a bit as he sped up, groaning loudly as his kisses grew feverish around your neck and shoulders. Leaving deep hickeys, marking his place in your life as your nails raked down his back. Moaning desperately as you whimpered in need. “Eddie please…’m so close, so so close,” you whined as he grinned lightly. “Me too honey…” he assured as he sped up.

“In or out honey?” He asked softly as you held his face and panted. “In please, I’m on the pill,” you promised before feeling him bottom out, your lashes fluttering as you let your head fall back. Incoherent muttering leaving you as you felt yourself come undone, Eddie doing the same as he moaned and whined out your name. Panting desperately as he whimpered, moving to lie down on your chest as you held him close.

“I’m here from now on…I promise…” he panted out carefully as he rested his chin on your sternum, looking up at you as you smiled lightly, catching your own breath. “I know baby…I know.”

Taglist: open

Tags: @munson-blurbs

[mqverick]

diet mountain dew || ꕤ

“Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven.”

───────── ˚｡⋆ ( ၴႅၴ ⟡ ─────────

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Daniel was looking at you with the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen on a man’s face before. His eyes were burning into yours, glistening under the light as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You tried not to gulp as the question echoed in your ears, face hot and flustered.

You never thought you’d find yourself outside of Daniel Kaffee’s door, contemplating whether to knock on his door or not. You’d always had the first word with him, ever since the moment he burst in your office with that stupid apple of his.

He’s looked like an idiot then and he looked like an idiot now, all proud of himself, looking at you — forcing you to use the actual words you’d been practicing and itching to say to him for God knows how long. It was deeply humiliating.

“No,” you simply and coldly replied, but your voice weakened by the end of the two-lettered word.

“It sounded like you were asking me out on a date,” he argued, crossing his arms as he took a few steps closer to you, ignoring the baseball game on the television that played uninterrupted in the background. He slyly raised his eyebrows as if he was questioning your previous ‘no’.

You stood there robotically, fumbling with the end of your thin jacket as you avoided eye contact with Daniel, knowing very well that your knees would buckle under just one look from him.

“I wasn’t,” you continued firmly.

“Mm,” Daniel hummed, his face so close to yours that you swore he was asking to get roughly hit in the balls. You were a woman with dignity and respect, though, you had to be stronger than that. God, you were aware of the fact that he had one of the most self-absorbed, cocky personalities, but when had he gotten like that? “I’ve been asked out on dates before, and that’s what it sounded like.”

Regretting your life’s choices should’ve been a paid occupation for you at that point. You wondered what came over you, thought hard about the nerve in your burnt brain that screamed and cried for you to get up from the bed, have a good day and then ruin it all by finally gathering the courage to go alone to Daniel’s place and talk to him about something that wasn’t related to the case. Ask him out on a fucking date like the desperate, little, touch starved loser you were.

Men had been going after you, begging for a chance since forever… yet, there was Daniel.

Daniel Kaffee, who had graduated from law school a year ago, had gotten in the Navy freshly — around nine months ago — who was so admirably impressive and intelligent and a whole person of his own. Daniel, who couldn’t come to a realisation without his thinking bat.

How had you fallen so hard in love with him?

“Do you like seafood? I know a good seafood place,” you blurted out, mentally kicking and cursing yourself for how stupid you’d sounded.

“I’ll tell you if you admit you’re asking me out.”

You weren’t going to, not even if he held a gun to your forehead and threatened your life. He did not need that kind of boost for his ego, nor did you care for getting embarrassingly paralysed in front of him after the smile he’d give you in case you actually did convince yourself to admit that this was your horrible aspect of asking him on a date.

“N-Not a date,” you stuttered, hating yourself.

“The sweat forming on your forehead says otherwise.” He snickered when you hurriedly snatched your hand from your jean’s pocket to wipe the non existent sweat off your face. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You know, I really wouldn’t say no to going out with you.”

“Well, you’re not. I just want to grab some dinner with my colleague is all. Will you come or should I get going? It’s late, they’ll close soon.”

You eventually gathered the courage to breathe, backing away from him as you headed towards the door, placing your hand on the handle. Daniel snatched you back by the arm, catching you off guard as you silently cried, mind short-circuiting after noticing how much closer he’d pulled you to him. His grip was strong on your elbow, fingers tightly pressing into your warm, reddening skin.

“Are you dismissing me?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Fuck, he was killing you. You were an exceptional lawyer, distinguished, had even won service medals. And all of that just vanished, the words dying in your throat, just because Kaffee was holding you so painfully close to him that part of your mind subconsciously dared you to move your head just an inch further into him, invade completely his personal space.

“I…” you began, but trailed off, seeing as you were truly incapable of understanding what was going through your blinded head in that moment. Had his eyes always been so dazzlingly green and big? Had Daniel always looked so unbelievably pretty?

“I didn’t even know you liked me. I mean, if you like me. I won’t make you say it — I just want to know if you’re asking me out on a date. Which is sort of like asking you if you like me, so that automatically cancels out what I just said.”

Daniel was getting nervous as well. Both of you were so utterly fucked with each other, but none ever spoke about it out loud without jokingly throwing flirtatious innuendos. He was done with just guessing how you felt about him, though, decided to take the matter into his own hands if you didn’t have the guts to make a move first.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you to another man just because his stupidity was too much of an obstacle to overcome. Died in silence every time he had to say goodbye or goodnight to you wherever you had to leave his apartment after judging that you’d all conversated enough about the case. Daniel knew that you had to be feeling something for him — even if that was a tiny spark.

All the secret glances, the way you commanded and spoke to him, the contained smiles; they had to mean something right? But why weren’t you trying anything with him? He thought he made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way about you, had been feeling like that for a long time.

He knew you knew.

“Danny, can you let — fuck, I can’t breathe when you hold me so close to you,” you accidentally confessed, eyes bulging the moment your words played loudly rent free in your brain right after they so easily and boldly left out of your mouth.

“You can’t?” he repeated softly, in awe as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said. “You can’t — you can’t say stuff like that to me and then tell me that you don’t want to ask me on a date. You can’t do that — you can’t fuck like that with my mind.”

You jerked away from him, brows furrowing.

“Me? I can’t say stuff like that to you? You’d known me only 12 hours when you told me you were sexually aroused. You’ve been looking at me as if I’m some sort of grand lawyer, like I amaze you or something — you know how hard it is for me to keep a fucking professional stance around you?” you were shouting for no reason now, practically admitting your feelings for him due to the anger that had fogged your brain.

Daniel closed his eyes in wonder, then looked at you dumbfounded. “What?” Fuck. “What did you just say?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you hated me. I always try so hard to impress you and I’m so afraid that I’ll do something wrong or offend you in some way I won’t even realize and you… You feel the same way about me?”

The question fell off his lips like he was terrified of the answer you’d give him. And it was true; he was, beat himself up for how little confidence he had around you even though his actions showed the opposite. He’d been melting for you.

Was captivated by your determination, the way you could make him feel so worthless just by giving him a weird look. Scary?

To Daniel, you were divine.

“I—I don’t feel a certain way about you, Danny.”

“You kill me,” he rushed to comment, cutting you off the second his nickname was mentioned. “Every single time you call me that, a small part of me dies. That sounds horrible, I didn’t mean it that way. You know how it feels to walk in a courtroom for the first time?”

You nodded with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I do. I could never forget. Do you?”

“Because of you, I do. If you weren’t so damn stubborn and annoying, I couldn’t even dream of it. When I walked inside, my legs were trembling. It was a confusing, but beautiful feeling.”

Your knees were bucking — what was he doing?

“Fuck you, Kaffee,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck me. Fuck me, Commander, I’m already yours. I have been ever since you listed my entire life in front of my very own eyes, then proceeded to threaten my position in the case. How can you not know that? How can you act so surprised when the only reason why I keep calling both you and Sam at my place repeatedly every day is because I believe that there couldn’t possibly be any way I’d ever see you in my little, humble apartment under any other circumstances? Don’t you think we could’ve perfectly arranged another meeting spot?”

You’d lost touch with the environment. Daniel’s eyes looked as though he was about to burst into tears; all glassy and red, holding back a million words and emotions that he’d so successfully held back for such a long time, that they almost didn’t even feel real. He had to be kidding you.

“Is it too late to ask you on a date, then?”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief, a gorgeous smile cracking on his lips as he finally shut the game on the television off, moving dangerously toward you. He cupped his hands over your cheeks and pulled you tightly into him, capturing your lips with his own after what felt like ages. His eyes were forcefully closed, afraid of opening them and waking up to what could be just another dream. But no, this was reality, he decided after he discreetly opened them just an inch to make sure that the person he was smushing was real.

You weren’t kissing him back, though, and it made him pull away, feeling like a complete fool. Had he misread anything again, had he done something wrong? Had his hurried intrusive thought to kiss you been too much?

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Embarrassment welled up inside of him as he stared down at your feet, his mind still unable to process the taste of your lips as it barely even functioned for any other reason; talking like a normal person, for example. Harvard lawyer, they said. Lawyer his ass. What kind of lawyer was ever known to get so tongue tied in a situation?

“Your lack of response to my question makes me believe that you haven’t truly been asked out on any dates before,” you eventually spoke, opting to break the silence with sarcasm, just like it had always been between the two of you.

You pressed your mouth against his this time, smirking nobly as you heard him take a sharp inhale. You walked backwards, forcing him to do the same, then pushed him against the outside arm of his pathetic couch, causing him to fall.

You wasted no time with getting on top of him, straddling his lap firmly as your back arched on top of him, making the kiss get profoundly deeper and wetter as tongues got involved. You’d never been French-kissed like that (or in general, ) — your head felt like it would explode.

Daniel wasn’t skilled just as a lawyer. He was awfully good at kissing, sending you over the edge just by adding a little extra saliva in the kiss and letting his hands roam freely in your back, pulling you closer and closer to his scorching body. His soft brunet hair softly brushed against your forehead as he titled his head for a better angle and you could almost feel yourself die.

He winced when his bat dug into his back and the miserable sound he made caused you to moan.

“Are — Are you going to ask me out?”

You ignored him, grasping on his shoulders as you accidentally ground against his crotch, losing your mind and grip over yourself when you felt his semi-erection rub just the right away over your jeans and panties, your wet core clenching around absolutely nothing disappointedly.

“Let’s go to the seafood place, yeah?” you exclaimed against his mouth.

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You untangled yourself from him, still neatly seated on his legs as if you couldn’t feel him flush and hard, aching to be freed from his trousers.

“You know I’m very intimidated by you, right?”

Daniel gave you a peck on the before getting up to sit normally on the couch. “I do not, Ma’am.”

“Shut up.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” he mocked, just like he’d said to you the first time you met. God, you really, deeply hated his self-absorbed guts. But you loved him. Loved him like crazy.

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I don’t want to go out to eat.”

Daniel’s face dropped when you got up from the couch and began putting your jacket back on. He’d messed up, he’d messed up, he’d messed up… Fuck him and how he never thought before doing. You were going to leave him, of course you were. You were scared of how fast he’d moved.

Except you really weren’t, you just really found joy into toying with his lowered remaining patience.

“What?” he asked, nearly like a whisper.

“I’ll see you at court tomorrow at 10. Don’t be fucking late, Lieutenant, or I’ll just might have to cancel the dinner reservations I’m planning. Up until then, you’ll do well with your very manly and grown up Yoo-Hoos,” you walked up to his door, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest as the corner of your eye caught him almost stumbling into the coffee table in his hurry to get to you.

“Is it going to be a—”

“And before you ask, yes, it’s a date.”

FIN.

@honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I humbly beg of you, o great dastardly feline bless your loyal servant with some whump 🙇

The crack was horrible.

Simple but loud. Unreal. A body producing a sound like that was anything but healthy. It was unmistakably bone breaking but the hero was smart enough to know the complexity of their body. Muscles and tendons. Skin ripping open, blood pouring — it was all of it, not just calcified connective tissue cracking.

And then, the hero truly felt the pain. Felt how their ankle didn’t want to be a part of their body anymore. They cursed quietly when they were still able to, but they knew it was only a question of time. They knew it would only get worse, would be consistent and never-ending for as long as they were here on the ground.

“Beg.”

Fuck that.

With just as much determination as pain and an awful groan, they turned around on their stomach and pushed themselves up. Their arms shook, blood and sweat mixing on their forehead but somehow, they found enough strength to end up kneeling.

The hero’s nose was bleeding. Their ankle was broken, lying on the ground palsied. Useless.

Nearly unbearable.

They spat on the ground, blood together with saliva.

And then, they grinned.

“Think I can’t take a hit?” they asked. “My nemesis breaks my bones on a daily basis.”

“They also share a bed with you on a daily basis,” the other said.

“You’re really upset about that, huh.”

The superhero looked furious, determined. The hero didn’t know if they were capable of murder. They certainly looked like it but the superhero had also never done it before. They wouldn’t know how to get rid of the body, wouldn’t know how to come up with an alibi, wouldn’t know how to wriggle out of this.

Assault? That was easy. Blaming some villain, saying they were on patrol. A hero getting assaulted wasn’t something new. A hero being murdered was.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“Jealous?” the hero asked, still grinning. The superhero grabbed their jaw, letting their fingers dig into their skin until it burnt, yanking them towards them.

“You don’t get to decide these things. You don’t get to walk around and do whatever the fuck you want.” They squeezed harder, making the hero fear their head was gonna explode. Great. Fucking great. “You do as I say, fucking got that?”

They let go of the hero, nearly throwing them back onto the ground.

“You should be on your knees, apologising. Thanking me for saving your pathetic life. For making something out of you. You’re nothing without me,” the superhero spat.

But the hero could only smirk, laugh as the lightheadedness caught up with them. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Who cared if they slept with their enemy? There was no law forbidding it.

“Think you’re a control freak,” they said. “Breaking your friend’s bones—”

Something in the superhero’s eyes went up in flames.

“We’re not friends. You’re mine, fucking got that?” Their tone had changed, had turned more aggressive within milliseconds. The hero’s smile died and their face contorted. Partly from the pain, partly from confusion.

Thank god, the hero saw shadows moving behind them. Either they were going insane or they were extremely lucky.

“Fucking creep,” the hero mumbled and once again, the superhero’s expression changed, as if they were ready to discuss this on a more mature level. As if they were collecting themselves.

“Listen, I’ve protected you all this time. I’ve watched over you like a lover. Because I care. I care about you.” Insane. The superhero was completely insane. “Please, ever since we met, I wanted to protect you. And I have. I have protected you and I always will. Don’t you get it? You’re mine.”

“Burn in hell,” the hero answered. And that was it.

They heard a shot and watched how their former mentor fell to the ground. It was such a relief, such heaven on earth. The hero exhaled for what seemed like the first time in hours. Exhausted and battered, they let their head sink, trying to calm their racing heart.

You’re mine. What a fucking creep.

The villain slipped out of the shadows and tilted their head, curious.

“Crazy fan of yours?” they said, looking at the perfect shot right through the back of the superhero’s head.

“Please,” the hero said. Begged. “Hold me.”

And the villain did.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: afab/fem!Reader Character: Trafalgar Law Kink: #8 Breeding Kink Prompt: #9 "Fuck, you feel so good." Gift Giver: @jadedrrose

Summary: Law promises to attend to you thoroughly, after you spent all day wanting his attention.

Content Notes: vaginal fingering, light begging, praise, dirty talk, cream pie, soft dom Law

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Your hands were on the backs of your knees, holding onto your legs as Law’s hands pressed into your thighs, helping you spread your legs wider for him. The position was embarrassing, more so because he’d spent a few minutes just looking at you while you held yourself open for him. Those golden eyes didn’t seem to miss anything, and the tip of his tongue over his upper lip as he nearly leered at you already had your breath coming out heavy.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, hand running down your thigh as he unbuttons his jeans, pushing the pants and boxers down and stroking his stiffening cock slowly.  The way your expression changed when you saw his dick just turned him on more.

It wasn’t fear, not after the first time when the size had darkened your features a little, but now it was just desire. Greedy, needy, desperately obvious for him to see, and he loved it.

“Law, please,” you beg a little, shifting your hips.

“Begging already? Not even going to let me play with you a little first?” He hums the words, moving his hand from his shaft to your slit, pressing a finger against your lips. He moves it up and down a little, grinning as he pushes a long finger inside you.

“You’re already so wet.” He pushes a second finger in, causing you to gasp as a lewd wet sound fills the air. “When you said you’d been thinking about me all day, you meant you’d been thinking about doing this with me all day, hm?”

You avert your face, gnawing on your lip a little. You hear Law chuckle quietly, leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

“I’m flattered,” he assures you, leaning back and lining himself up with your soaking pussy. “If you’ve been wanting this all day, I won’t keep you waiting.”

He pushes in a little, grabbing onto your thigh once the tip’s in, and pushing your legs back as he sinks into you slowly. You let out a shaky breath as he fills you up, feet flexing as you try your best to stay still.

“That’s my good little snowdrop.” He sighs, moving your legs so your ankles are against his shoulders, threading his fingers through yours and holding your hands as he begins to move slowly. Your legs trembling against his chest make it difficult for him to continue his slow pace, but he’s not ready to rush yet.

“You always… feel so good,” he says, leaning over you. The motion presses your legs back, though not any more than they had been earlier. “Everything from your trembling limbs,” he teases, kissing your ankle. “To your tight, trembling, sweet fucking pussy.” He nearly growls the words, pinning your hands into the bed and snapping his hips into you to punctuate each word.

Law grinds his hips into you, pushing deep and leaning into you more. You gasp at the sensation, squirming under him as he begins to thrust into you, leaning low enough your legs slip off his shoulders and rest into the crooks of his arms.

He slows a little, lips brushing against yours, following behind an airy gasp from you, and kissing you deeply. His hands hold onto your tightly as his tongue pushes in your mouth, hips pushing him deeper and grinding into your clit with each shift and movement. You turn your head to the side, drawing in a deep breath and shaking from the pleasure building.

“Please!” You gasp as he kisses and licks your neck, pushing pleasure into you as you twist and tremble under him. “Please, La-Law.”

“Mmm, please what?” He murmurs into your skin, teeth sliding against tender flesh and pulling shivering gasps from you.

“F-fill me up. Cum… inside me, please.” You beg, a moan rattling in your chest as his teeth press into your skin just deep enough to make your back try to arch, despite being pressed into the mattress.

“Anything for you, (Y/N).” He agrees, nipping at your earlobe a little before he adjusts enough to start thrusting into you almost roughly. His breath is coming out heavy and you realize he was holding himself back for a while, almost as though he was waiting for you to ask for it.

His hips buck erratically, thrusting almost harshly as you feel him empty himself inside you. His fingers tighten against yours, flexing jerkily as a soft grunt turns into a few heavy breaths. He shifts his hips slowly, grinding against your clit and keeping you on edge while he takes a moment to recover.

“I’m going to fill you up twice as much as I make you cum,” he insists, grinning as he starts to move his hips more. “Or maybe I’ll make you cum twice as much as I fill you up.” He corrects, leaning low and speaking right by your ear.

“I’m sure you’ll be too full of cum and pleasure to know which one it was by the end of it.”

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[obae-me]

Hi, I’m so glad you’re back. Can you do Mammon and MC going on vacation in the human world with MC’s family?

Thank you

❤️❤️❤️

Of course I can! What a cute idea! Since I know there’s so many different family situations out there, I’m going to do my best to keep the family details as vague and general as possible! Thank you for the request!  Also I wasn't sure if this was meant to be in a more friendly or romantic aspect, but it was hard for me to deny a couple's vacation, so I hope it's okay being Mammon x MC!

“Once more, from the top!”

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto their bed in their room. “Come oooon,” he whined. “Don’t make me go through all that again.” He attempted to beg, giving them some version of puppy eyes, his lips pleading with the human to give him a break. 

They, unfortunately for him, would not stand down, no matter how adorable he may seem. “Mammon, you’re going to meet my family. My human family. In the human world. And I hate to break it to you, but neither you nor your brothers are very good at blending in. At all.” Which is why MC had spent way too long creating a plausible backstory, and why they were pressing Mammon so hard to remember it. 

It had been about a month ago when MC’s family first reached out, sending them a letter about what they were missing at home. How did a human letter reach the Devildom in the first place? Probably thanks to Diavolo. The other humans were, obviously, still completely in the dark about where MC truly was, figuring they were simply studying abroad and not in what most humans would call hell. And in the contents of that letter was a suggestion of a vacation. A fully paid and fully planned vacation. After all, school would be out for a short break, and they wanted a chance to see MC again...and about this supposed ‘boy’ that MC had mentioned before. 

“Why not just tell them about me? They’re your family after all, right?” He wondered, sitting back up on the bed with his legs crossed under him, his arms tucked near his knees. 

They folded their arms, tilting their head at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously asking that.” Well, now he looked a little wounded. They sighed, sitting next to him, putting their hand on his head. “Maybe in the future we can, but this is their first time meeting you. Aside from the hundred other problems revealing yourself would cause, trying to bring you and your realm’s entire existence up over dinner would either get me sent to a hospital or give them all mental breakdowns over the revelation that essentially everything they’ve ever known is a lie.” 

His face suggested that he didn’t retain any of that, so focused on grinning like an idiot over MC’s touch, but then he finally looked at them curiously. “You didn’t have a mental breakdown.” 

Sweet naïve boy. They did. They really did. But that wasn’t their main focus right now. “The point I’m trying to get across is that it's really important to me that we keep the truth a secret right now so we all can have a good time, okay? So please, can we go over the story together one more time so I don’t feel so nauseous?” 

He finally sighed, his eyes softening towards them. “I didn’t realize it was that important to ya. Okay, just watch and see, I’ll be the best human ever!” 

---

When they had heard the words ‘all-expenses-paid-vacation’, they expected, sure, maybe the hotel rooms and meal costs, but no...it was all paid for. Every single cent. Whatever their family didn’t cover, Diavolo did. Even this fancy rental car, which Mammon was more than happy to immediately jump into as soon as Barbatos had dropped them both off. “Yeah, baby!” He had shouted, leaping into the driver’s seat of the convertible. 

MC couldn’t help but be a little hesitant. “Do you even know how to drive up here?” 

“Yeah I do!” He beamed for a moment before his face fell a little bit, looking a bit annoyed. “Had to work hard for it too. Your laws up here are seriously ridiculous.” Then the moment of seriousness had passed. He leaned over to the other side of the car, grabbing the passenger side handle and pushing the door open. “Get in!” 

With a playful roll of their eyes, MC loaded both theirs and Mammon’s luggage inside the vehicle before seating themselves in the car. It was...kind of nice, being in the human realm, seeing Mammon behind the wheel of a human car, a silly Hawaiian shirt on like one of those old dads that go on vacation. He adjusted his sunglasses, fiddling with the radio till some song that appealed to his taste pumped out the speakers. After making sure he was buckled up properly, they both set out on the road, the sun beaming down on them, the smell of the ocean in the air. 

“Pop-quiz time!” MC announced, letting their hand hover off to the side, the air gusting through their open fingers. 

Mammon groaned, keeping his eyes trained on the road no matter how much he wanted to turn to give them a glare of annoyance. “No quizzing on vacations!” 

“Question one!” As they ignored him, his face scrunched up into a little pout. “Who are you, handsome stranger?” 

He scoffed a bit, but they caught the redness that came to his cheeks. “Name’s Mason.” 

MC clapped their hands together in a bit of glee. “Good!” At the praise, the color in his cheeks deepened. “What’re you going to school for?” 

“Finance and fashion design.” 

They leaned back in their seat, feeling a bit calmer knowing that he was actually retaining all this information. This whole human bit might work out after all. “And how did we meet?” 

He sighed heavily. “It sounds so plain and simple! Not super special at all!” As they both slowed down to stop at a red light, he finally looked at them, a sulky look in his eyes. "Why couldn't we go with my idea?"

“Because," MC continued, their eyes softening at him. The idea had been really cute. He suggested that the story be that MC was crossing the street, when a car ran right through a red, trying to escape the blaring sirens of the cops chasing them! They were criminals, and now they were about to run into someone! He had seen this and courageously ran through the street to grab them, pulling them aside to safety. Somehow, at the end of his story, he had saved MC and then they both managed to stop the criminals, both of them getting reward money for doing so, and with that money, Mammon would suavely ask MC out for dinner. Obviously he had fashioned the story off some movie they had watched earlier. "The more cliché it is, the less my family will question it. Now, Mason, how did we meet?” 

As traffic moved forward, he turned his head away from them, his answer monotone. “We share the same math general class together, but didn’t start talking to each other till we got grouped up for a project.” 

“And after I asked you to help study with me for tests, we found we clicked! Perfectly human!” They reached over to rub his shoulder, lowering their hand to open the GPS on your phone. “We’re meeting my family at the airport. From there, we’ll check in at the hotel and go out to lunch.” They waited for him to make some sort of reply, but when he never did they raised their head. He suddenly looked too serious, mouth in a tight line, hardly looking at the scenery they both were passing. “Mammon?” He was caught up in his own head it seemed. MC turned down the music on the radio and placed their hand on his arm. 

He blinked, removing one of his hands from the wheel to grab their hand. “I don’t wanna mess this up. I know how important it is to ya.” 

They gave his hand a squeeze and then released it to let him place it back on the steering wheel. “You won’t. We wont. We’ll just keep to the story and enjoy our time up here, okay? Swimming, sand, surfing, sunning, just focus on that, okay? Oh, and don’t forget we need to bring all your brothers back a souvenir.” 

He lightened a little bit at that, the little golden highlights in his hair shimmering under the human sun.  

---

"MC!" Their name was called, picked up above the other busy voices in the airport. MC turned and grinned, holding their arms out for the inevitable embrace. Their family member wrapped their arms around them and grinned, pulling back shortly. "It's been so long! You look good. You've been okay so far from home?"

"I've never been better!" MC expressed, stating what mostly was the truth. Sure there had been bumps and bruises and...worse than that, but the time they had spent in the Devildom was an enjoyable one overall.

"And this is..." Someone else from MC's family spoke up, looking towards Mammon who was actually pacing a little bit behind MC, trying not to stand out too much.

It took Mammon a moment to collect himself, coming to stand by MC and hold his hand out. "I'm Mam--Mason," he shared, taking the hand of one of the humans and giving it a firm shake.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" The person that had given MC the hug came over and led them away, everyone grabbing luggage to take outside. "He seems sweet. You'll have to tell me all about him!"

Mammon was suddenly left alone with the remaining members, obviously trying not to panic, laughing nervously at jokes as he kept up his human disguise. He helped take some of the family's luggage as he quickly followed behind MC. "So!" He exclaimed, changing the subject as he stood by MC's side. "Where we heading for lunch?"

One of the humans pulled up an image on their phone. "I found what looks to be a popular local restaurant not too far from here, and it's beachside too! A little pricy, but who could pass up eating and then going right out to swim? See?"

"That looks perfect? See, Mam-- babe?" They felt themselves almost sweating. They tried so hard to get Mammon to remember his 'new name' and yet they almost just let it slip themselves. Their quick thinking seemed to work though, although Mammon almost seemed like he was unable to breathe. MC encouraged Mammon to look at the photo which seemed to snap him out of it. Now he just seemed pumped.

"I'm going to eat so much sushi," he beamed.

"That's the spirit!" One of MC's family members announced. MC grinned. They were all getting along just fine.

MC jogged ahead a bit, looking back at the group as they nodded. "Let's all head back to the hotel so we can put away our stuff and grab our swimsuits! We've got plenty of sunlight left, people! Let's make the most of it!"

---

Lunch went really well. Everyone ordered too much expensive food and yet somehow managed to pack it all away. MC's family kept asking questions, and suddenly Mammon seemed more than happy to answer. It was mostly a little session to gush about how much he knew and liked about MC, and it was hard to tell if he was trying to get on their family's good side or if he really just enjoyed talking about them that much. Either way, it was sweet, even if it was clear that some members of MC's family found some things hard to believe. No demonic secrets were spilled at least.

But what they were all looking forward to was the beach. Everyone was dressed and ready. MC's family brought plenty of towels and toys to keep all of them entertained. They set up their spot away from the others, MC sitting in the shade of a large beach umbrella while they watched some others drag Mammon away for a little frisbee competition. They'd let him go and have a little bit of fun before dragging him away for them to be on their own for a little bit. For now though, they'd watch him mingle with the humans, a surprising smile on his face. For someone who seemed to not be able to stand humans when they first visited the Devildom, he seemed to be having a lot of fun with them.

Someone sat next to MC, opting out of the frisbee game to sit under the shade, opening a cooler to pull out a chilled can. They looked over at the others and then back at MC. "He seems like a good one."

"Hm?" MC looked back over at their family member, snapping out of their thoughts as the sound of the opened can cracked.

"Mason." They gestured towards Mammon, nodding a bit. "I was a little worried--"

"Oh please," MC sighed a little.

"I was! Here you are, disappearing all the sudden to study abroad and then later tell us you're with someone. We don't get pictures, we hardly get calls, we get a hand-written letter of all things, so yes, we were all a bit worried. But..." They leaned over and placed a hand on MC's shoulder. "There's something about him...can't quite place it, but he's...different. I can tell he's been good to you."

MC's heart swelled a little. They looked up towards Mammon right as he looked back. When they locked eyes, he beamed and waved, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout. "You better watch me beat these losers!"

MC cheered him on as he turned back towards the other humans. Then they felt MC's company nudge them a bit. "Is it true he's got six other siblings?"

"Uh, yeah," MC answered honestly.

"Next time we do this, we'll have to invite all of them. Imagine how fun that would be!"

MC chuckled nervously. Trying to get all seven demons to control themselves accordingly?...Sounds almost more like a nightmare. But also...Maybe there would be a proper day where they'd all get to meet. The humans MC cared most of all meeting the demons they cared for most of all. "I think that would be nice." Although, as the frisbee game seemed to be ending, MC got up quickly, hoping to get away for a bit before they were asked any more questions. "Be back in a bit!" They jogged over warm sand to snatch Mammon by the hand, dragging him away.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mammon wondered as they both headed towards the sea.

MC looked back at him, feeling the waves coming up to wash over their feet. "I just wanted you to myself for a bit, that's all." They headed over to a quieter part of the beach, walking towards the ocean till the water was at their waist. "Thank you," they suddenly said, looking out towards the waves, listening to the happy screams of children, to the birds above them.

"Huh?" Mammon moved to stand in front of them, holding their arms in his hands. "Why? What did I do?"

"Just...for everything. For coming up here, for following this story I made up, for getting along with my family. I hope you're having fun, I know you're not really used to being away from the others."

"You're here, that's all that really matters to me, you know that."

MC felt a warm tug in their chest. "I know. I love you."

Mammon had to look away for a moment, but inevitably glanced back. "I love you too." MC pulled at him a bit, gesturing for a kiss. PDA typically embarrassed him, but who was he to deny something like that? He closed his eyes and leaned over just in time to get a sudden splash of water in the face. He spluttered a bit, watching MC laugh and suddenly swim away. "Oi! You little....Come back!" He meant to sound frustrated, but he couldn't help but laugh, diving into the ocean to catch his human, snatching them by the waist. "Gotcha. Gimmie what you owe me."

"Fine, fine," MC, turning in his grasp to plant a kiss on his lips. "Hm, too salty."

"And whose fault is that for splashing me, huh? I think I deserve interest for that!"

MC wrapped their arms around his neck and kissed him once more, rubbing his back a little as they parted. "There, happy now?"

He hummed like he was thinking it over. "For now." They both waded in the water a bit, enjoying each other's company. "I'm really glad I get to be here with you. This has only been one day and yet I feel like the happiest demon in the world. This is going to be a great vacation."

"Yeah," MC agreed, the last bit of anxiety they were holding suddenly unraveled while they were in his arms. They looked off in the distance where their family was playing. "It will be."

[scrapsovereign]

Surprise!! I turned it in to a prequel! Because what’s more fun than suffering?

I Think He Knows - Chapter 2

Link to Story on AO3:

Summary: You're able to enjoy a little bit more time with Astarion before the long arm of the law calls him back to the courthouse.

(POV female Reader x Magistrate Astarion/almost 4k words of very NSFW, straight up filth underneath the cut)

Soft, worn linens greet your backside as you are cast unceremoniously onto the bed by Astarion.

He watches you with hungry approval when he drops you, delighting in how every delicious, soft part of you jiggles.

“In order to punish you properly, I’ll require a confession of the events that led up to the moment I arrived home,” he intones dispassionately above you. You find your legs squeezing together again with his words that flow like spun silk…nevermind the fact that he was just between them.

“Once I have determined the true nature of your transgressions, we can administer your punishment- which should be equal to the crime, of course. When that has been squared away, we can negotiate your release. But, I must warn you, darling…” the cool indifference of his voice has an edge that you recognize and it makes your center clench in anticipation.

You’re not the only one who's still aroused. You catch a brief glimpse of how his hard cock twitches as he speaks, aching to be buried inside you again.

“...I won’t go easy on you,” the low growl that is matched by an equally villainous look makes you whimper and your over-eager sex spasm.

Nor do you want him to. Hells, if this is what coming home early and getting caught masturbating in your husband’s shirt gets you, you make a mental note to misbehave more often.

Leaning over to cage you between his arms, he looks over the pretty flush of your cheeks, swollen and soft lips begging to be kissed, firm buds of your pert nipples he wants to snatch between his teeth and lavish with his tongue. He is momentarily lost, seeing himself reflected in pupils blown out so wide they hide the band of gorgeous irises he’d composed a dozen improvised sonnets to over the years.

You are lost as well, so enraptured by his reverence of you that when he dives to claim your lips it startles you a bit.

It’s not one of the sweet, romantic kisses you’ve received from him- the kind that make you melt and sigh against him in bliss.

No, the urgent way he explores your mouth is that of a man starved for you- the only way to temporarily sate his bottomless appetite is allowing him to feast upon your body and consume you in entirety.

And gods above, you’ll let him.

Oh, he loves how much you eagerly fight back against him and match his pace, letting you know with an erotic groan.

It would have continued too, if your damned hands hadn’t reached down to stroke the twitching, velvety hardness of his length. Your fingers have just begun to trace up the bottom of his shaft when he huffs a curse into your open mouth. You yelp in surprise when he pulls away and pushes you back down to the bed.

The spell broken, he rises, sitting back on his knees above you to look down upon you with villainous intent.

“My naughty little love,” he rumbles above you with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I fear if you cannot keep your hands to yourself, then I will have to physically restrain you. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” you state with an affirming nod, a devilish twinkle in your eyes.

You’re lying.

You decided as soon as he brought up the idea of restraining you that you want this, and you’re going to cause problems on purpose.

“Good. Now, my sweet. Walk me through what happened this morning. And please, spare no detail,” he drawls, eyes fixated on the point in between your legs that is once again, completely soaked.

“We didn’t have that much further to go, and decided to just push through the evening and get in early this morning,”

“I stopped on the way home to grab some things from the market that are in the icebox…but…” You trail off as if you’re forgetting something. You aren’t, you’ve done this before. It’s one of your favorite ways to mess with him. He’ll repeat the word you’re going to say as a follow-up to prompt you to say more.

“But…?” He questions, as predicted.

“Well now that you mention it,” you scoot yourself down so you can take a lecherous handful of his shapely rear with both your greedy open palms. Your hands are caught with his firm grip and you make contact with the sheets again with a soft ‘oof’.

He’s pinning your arms over your head with his own, his gorgeous body stretched out over yours. Cool, damp silver curls brush against your forehead, a sharp contrast to the hot, pink intrusion of his erection that has landed in between your legs against your moist slit.

“I’m going to get the rope out of the bedside table. I want you to stay here, just like this, my darling,” he murmurs, making the barest of contact with your full lips.

“And I don’t want you to move,” he gasps, undulating so that his length moves up against your damp core, dragging the head of his cock against your swollen clit.

“A single…” he repeats the motion, and you trust your hips up to meet him, huffing out a curse at how good he feels to rut against.

“…muscle.”

He’s released you, and you whine at the loss of the incredible sensation of his teasing. You slump against the bed as he searches for the fine silk cord, listening to him rummage through drawers he insisted on re-organizing a month ago.

“When I said don’t move a muscle, I meant every word, love.”

Oh. So that’s how he wants to do this today.

Must’ve been a really long week.

You arch your back, lifting your hips slightly, holding the pose for him while he continues to shuffle around your things. He does locate and set down a familiar glass bottle, your eyebrows lifting at the noise. Your heart races and the spot between your legs absolutely throbs at the idea of activities that would require the grease bottle.

“Ah ha! Here we are,” he exclaims as you hear him shut the four wooden drawers he has opened.

“Was it in the bottom drawer on the far side?” You ask sweetly, staring up at the ceiling with a grin. He hums, decidedly ignoring you as he ties your hands gently together with the silken ropes. You feel him slip his fingers through and pinch the tip of the finger to check for circulation just like you taught him, shimmying the release end of the quick release knot he’s tied into your hands.

He circles the bed again and you begin to set your hips down when he clears his throat, looking down at you with tranquil disapproval. You raise your hips up again, feeling your muscles begin to shake with the strain as you hold yourself up for him.

“Well? You arrived home? Continue,” he orders, tracing his manicured nails up the outside of your trembling thighs.

“I admit, I left my pack, my dirty boots, and my dirty armor all in the foyer. I was going to come back and deal with it before you got home, I just ended up getting …distracted,” you gasp out. You whimper as the traces of his nails migrate to your inner thighs, quivering as if you had just been tossed in an ice-crusted lake in the dead of winter.

“Distracted how, love?”

“I came upstairs, took a nap, and had the wildest, horniest dream about you. I was going to clean up and get in the bath, and then I noticed your shirt. I put it on. Gods, Astarion, it smelled just like you were standing right next to me…I don’t know what came over me, it drove me mad. I wanted you so, so badly right then,” you whimper as he increases the pressure of the drag of his nails up the tops of your legs, pausing around the crest of your hips.

“Hmm,” he splays his hands out on your pelvis, feeling you vibrate as you hold position for him. His neutral expression gives nothing away but his eyes are on your center again, watching a small rivulet of clear slick drip down and pool on the sheets below.

“You have to understand…I missed you so much while I was away, and we shared a room so it’s not like l could touch myself for any relief, and that damned message you sent me a few days ago still had me worked up,” you thrust your hips upwards and gasp your words out when he moves his hands down, resting both thumbs on the side of your clit.

“You weren’t alone for that?” He gasps in feigned shock, the bastard. If only he could have seen you murmuring equally obscene things back to him under your breath while you frantically searched for a hidden corner, a private booth, an empty cellar…

He moves his hands out of the way of your attempts to move the pads of his fingers to your sensitive flesh.

“My beautiful wife, surrounded by handsome, swarthy adventurers, the subject of unspeakably deviant sending spells from her husband. You poor dear! No wonder you’re in such a state,” He pouts, running his hands up towards your breasts.

You stop your movements when you process what he’s said. One, gross, they’re your coworkers. Two, just…why? Sleeping with one of them would be like spoiling your meal with street meat from a market vendor stall when you have Faerun’s finest steak dinner waiting for you at home.

“Astarion, I would never dream of taking anyone else to my bed, no matter how aroused I am from your teasing and torturing while I’m away. It just makes me crave you more, hence how you found me- three fingers deep,” you state matter-of-factly to him, your muscles steadying their trembling.

“Relax.”

Your sweaty body drops to lay boneless against the bed at his command, luxuriating in the softness beneath your cramping muscles.

“Three fingers deep, she says! I was going to have you provide a demonstration for me of your…activities that lead to the conclusion you had almost arrived at but seeing as how you can’t be trusted...”

“You have me rather intrigued about this dream of yours. It wasn’t one of… those, was it?” He quirks up an eyebrow as he climbs on to the bed, lounging on an elbow next to you.

Your own eyebrows knit together and you feel something in the pit of your stomach hit the bottom as you question yourself. Shit, it did kinda have that feeling to it, now that you think of it.

These dreams of yours were both a blessing and a curse. They had initially drawn you to the path of a healer as a child. You would scandalize your upper class peers by how they would accurately and inconveniently predict pregnancies, tell you which adventurer wouldn’t make it back, and had even introduced you to Astarion before you had crossed paths.

You dreamt of your first kiss in the pouring rain months before meeting him.

When you were introduced, you had a full on vision of your wedding, exactly as it happened years later in the moment when he kissed your hand.

You bite your lip and look up at him out of the corner of your vision. The ones you’d had lately were nightmares, and you hadn’t told him about the one you had while you were out this week where he was attacked after leaving work late one night. They’d been getting more frequent, more violent, permeating you with a feeling of dread that sat heavily on your chest.

“It was so crazy I don’t think it could ever be real. Promise you won’t laugh. You were…a vampire.”

“Hah! I mean,” he huffs out a laugh, then slaps his free hand over his mouth to silence himself and gain his composure. “Please, darling, continue.”

“You ass,” You hiss out, wriggling next to him. You could tug on the rope end, free yourself, and smack him on the arm, but you’re enjoying this far too much.

Besides, you still haven’t found out why he brought out the grease.

“We were out in a forest. You came out without your shirt on, said some cheesy lines, and then you kissed me… I got on my knees and pleasured you with my…” Your jaw goes slack and your mouth waters as he starts to stroke himself languidly.

“What? It’s quite salacious, how could you not expect me to touch myself?” The filthy moan that follows his commentary makes you clench and wonder how soaked the sheets have to be underneath you.

“I…I pleasured you with my mouth, and then right before you came you backed me against a tree and I came twice while you licked and fingered me.”

“Mmm, I see. Like this?” In one motion, he fastens his mouth over your clit, sucking, licking, devouring you.

“Oh gods, yes- just like that! You put my legs around your waist and had me there, and I came again, but I still wanted more- ahh!”

Two fingers slip easily in your welcoming, slippery heat. He pumps them inside of you briskly while he hooks his fingers up toward the front of your walls, rubbing the digits against a spongy surface that makes you temporarily see stars. You cry out and arch your lower back against the bed, and begin eagerly bucking your hips up to ride against his hand.

It feels so good, you’re clenching harder around his fingers, you’re so close, just a few more seconds, yes …

He stills his fingers inside you.

“And what did you want, love?” He asks innocently with lips covered in the sheen of your arousal.

“I wanted more, deeper, I wanted you to fill me, I wanted to feel every inch of you. I said some stupid thing to catch you off guard and I pushed you down and landed on top-ahh!” He pushes three fingers into you now, setting a sensually slower pace.

“That can’t be all that happened…'' The sound of his hedonistic goading makes you clench again, this time around his fingers. This man and his voice! He could read you something as dry as a court report and make you climax from that alone- and you suspect he knows it, too.

Astarion bites his lower lip, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you resume fucking yourself on his hand. The tension that builds inside of you is intense as he massages the spot deeper with more pressure, setting a pace you can intentionally move your hips with.

“Oh, no, it didn’t end there. You rolled me over-! Yes, touch me just like that, that feels so good…and then you lifted my hips up, pressed my legs down, and then you bit me,” you rasp out, immediately groaning in frustration when he stops. Again.

“Did I?” He looks down at you, his face twisted in perverse fascination.

“You did,” you whimper out as he pulls his fingers from you.

He makes a show of licking the viscous fluids for you off his hands like he had spilled a jar of honey upside down over them, groaning in pleasure as he laps up the fluids of arousal. It would be ridiculous for anyone else to see, but you’d be damned if this isn’t the most erotic thing you’ve seen this week. You gasp out as your core clenches at the very sight of him.

“By the Gods, my love- if your blood tastes as good to ‘vampire me’ as your juices do, the magnificent bastard would never be left wanting. But maybe you want that- sharp fangs piercing your neck, feeling your life slip away. You liked it, didn’t you?”

“It hurt a little bit, but the pleasure was unlike anything I could imagine. I came again when you drank from me, you did as well,” you admit, your pretty face flushed in shame. You’d never been what the younger adventurers referred to crudely as a “monsterfucker”, but there was something about your love with that predatory look in his eyes and pointy teeth that awakened something feral in you.

“I’m not surprised I’m such a generous lover, even in your subconscious. However, who ever knew my sweet, blue-blooded, black-sheep healer was such a degenerate?” His negging makes you bark out a laugh.

“You did, darling,” you reply, imitating his signature coquettish expression and flirtatious tone.

“Well. I certainly understand your motivation, now. I think I’ve heard enough to properly sentence you,” he is all business now as he announces this to you, getting to his knees.

“Oh?”

“Mmm hmm. Turn around, get on your knees, and bend over for me, pet.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice.

You feel his erection press up against your entrance as he leans over you, pressing a single kiss to your earlobe that sends a chill down your spine.

“I’m going to spank you. One for leaving a mess downstairs, one for napping while you’re filthy in our clean sheets, and then three more for thinking you could pretend to lie to me. I want you to count down and keep track. Start… now. ”

He sits up and you feel the sharp smack of his palm against your backside.

“One…”

A second strike, this one harder than the first, hits the same exact spot. The vibration from your buttocks jiggling makes you bite your lip, you can feel it travel straight to your aching center.

“Two…ahh!”

Your other cheek is assaulted now, and you flinch, your hips jutting back to meet his twitching, painfully hard cock.

“Three, ohhhh yes, Astarion,” you moan wantonly, trying to gain purchase on the head that presses to your folds with your hips.

Two strikes land on that same cheek.

“Four! Five!”

The sting is soothed by the reassuring warmth of the hands that linger on your backside.

You swear you can feel a trail of your slippery arousal drip down the inside of your thigh.

“That’s my good girl. You took your punishment so well. Would you like your release?” You catch a slight tremble in the cant of his words, practiced hands shaking ever-so-slightly under the strain of his ravenous desire for you.

“Please, oh Gods yes, please,” you feel the tip of him tease your folds, the head of his shaft tapping the exposed, slick pearl of your clit as he throbs up against you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up, my bloodthirsty counterpart must have excited you terribly,” his husky, breathy observation betrays him now. You know that tone of voice. It’s obvious he wants to be inside you, to feel you fall apart around him, to fill you again with his salty essence.

“Astarion, please, I need you inside me, please fuck me, let me cum on your cock-“ your desperate, almost incoherent babbling is interrupted by another loud crack. You moan loudly, unable to hold back any pretense that you feel anything short of utter bliss. It should sting, and you know from the pressure that it’ll leave a mark.

“Six?”

You crane your head to look back at him inquisitively. Not that you don’t mind extra punishment, but isn’t this more than he intended?

Not by the look in his eyes.

He’s never “seen you that worked up”? Can he see himself in the mirror right now?

You barely recognize the man behind you, eyes burning bright with dark desire, almost shimmering with sweat in the mid-day rays of sun that stream in through curtained windows in your bedroom.

All at once, he sheathes himself inside you, pulls your body up with his hand at your throat, and yanks your head aside to murmur sinful words at your pulse.

“Yes, darling. Six. For the mess you’re about to make cumming on the sheets.”

Suddenly, he is enthusiastically thrusting into you with abandon, battering that spot within you where his fingers were during the re-telling of your dream. You feel him stutter briefly underneath you as you shatter around him only after a few snaps of his hips, your vision going white, your ears ringing, your body going slack in an arch against his chest.

He doesn’t stop. He reaches down to your clit, strumming you with his fingers like a lute, your body singing to him in response with your cries and sobs of pleasure. You feel yourself tighten, the tension building again as he rasps a single command directed at your ears.

“Again.”

You feel his teeth sink into your neck as he bites you.

Your brain short-circuits, your knees give out, and you feel a stream of fluid expel itself forcefully from you as you climax again.

The bite is short lived- he shouts your name with his own release, the sound muffled as he is sucking a bruise on your neck. His thrusts slow down, guiding you both through the aftershocks of your orgasms. You both collapse on to the bed and turn to face each other, meeting halfway in a breathy, passionate kiss.

“I love you so much- what is it?” You make a face of surprise from his snarl at the end of his post-coital love confession- must be a sending spell from Dorian, his page. You see panic in his suddenly clear eyes as they focus on the gently set aside black silk robes.

“We adjourned for the weekend already, sentencing is at the beginning of the next tenday,” He sits up, clearly irritated that whatever boundary he had set is being ignored. You watch him groan and pinch the bridge of his nose.

He’s definitely talking to Dorian.

“Alright then. I had… plans this afternoon, but give me an hour and I’ll be back at the office.”

Astarion falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, hands clutching at the silver curls of his hair.

“Hells. I feel terrible, darling. I really wanted to lavish all of my attention on you this afternoon and well into the evening, but as you can see-” you lean over and shush his ranting with a single kiss to his temple.

“You have plenty of time to make it up to me, my love. Plenty of time,” you reassure him- and yourself. You don’t quite believe your words to him.

A deep, gnawing clench in your gut tells you something is wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Against your better judgment, you choose to ignore it.

You prop a pillow underneath you as you adoringly watch him rush through readying himself to return to the courthouse, standing up to fix his cravat and a stray curl that has flopped in his face. He grasps your jaw gently, kissing you with the same intensity that he had earlier when he arrived home.

“I shall not keep you waiting too much longer, my love. I promise.”

He disappears down the hallway, his silk robes floating behind him.

You shuffle through your wardrobe, finding a purple silk robe to wrap around yourself from Kara-Tur that you had purchased from a vendor in Elturel a few years ago.

Making your way downstairs, you unpack your gear, setting your things in their proper place until you can clean them.

Stretching upwards, your feet take you to the kitchen, your arms pulling sugar, flour, spices, leavening powder, butter, and eggs all on to the counter.

“Ignis,” You shoot a firebolt at the wood fire oven that begins to crackle and pop, and you begin work on Dorian’s favorite cookie recipe.

An evil sounding laugh floats out from you and fills the kitchen as you whisk the butter and sugar together.

The sending spell requires a verbal component, and one can’t cast spells to summon your husband back on the weekend at a moment’s notice when their mouth is full of sweets, can they?

[ladytanithia]

WIP Wednesday

Toying with an idea for Miranja's future... not sure if I want to go this route, and not sure whether Faendal would react this way after a long friendship, lots of adventures together, and serving as her steward for a few years, but my mind likes to fixate on horribly sad things sometimes. Working title is Losing Faendal.

@dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @thechaosdragoness @gwilin-stay-winnin @skyrim-forever @mareenavee

The sight that met Miranja's eyes was distressing. Camilla lay in a heap on the floor, and Faendal hung by his wrists, locked in shackles on the wall, dull-eyed and despondent.

Pulling out the key she'd taken from the bandit chief, she rushed to Faendal. "I came as fast as I could, as soon as I got Endur's message." She unlocked the shackles and let him down, then she turned to Camilla to check her.

"Don't bother; she's dead," Faendal spat bitterly, sitting on his knees, rubbing life back into his arms. "She's been lying there for hours."

An invisible fist clenched around Miranja's heart. "Oh, Faendal... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was too late to save both of you." Her throat clenched up along with her heart, and she fell to her knees next to him, sobbing, reaching for his arm to help him massage the blood back into the numb limb.

But Faendal pulled away with a hateful grimace, and Miranja retracted her hand as if he'd slapped it, her mouth an O of surprise. Her heart stopped altogether for a moment in her bewilderment. She took a breath to ask him why, but he spoke before she could, his tone venomous.

"Don't touch me. You want to do something for me? Then go to the nearest town and send a cart for Camilla. And don't come back. I don't want to see you again. I'm going back to Riverwood, and you can find yourself another steward."

"Faendal..." she squeaked out weakly, choking on her sobs.

"I'm sorry I ever got involved with you. This only happened because some sick Blood Horker bastards wanted revenge against you. My wife is a casualty because of what you've done. My son is motherless." His voice cracked on the last word, and he crawled over to Camilla's body, bending over her with his back to Miranja and sobbing.

All Miranja wanted to do was throw herself on the floor and weep and beg Faendal to have mercy, but she knew all that would do was antagonize him. She got to her feet and ran, blind with tears, back to the cave entrance. Back outside, she screamed her despair to the heavens until her voice was ragged.

She staggered, exhausted, into Rorikstead, heading straight to Sissel's farm, where she pressed a coin purse into Sissel's hand without counting the gold, begging her to take a produce cart to Orotheim as soon as possible, telling her that a woman had been killed and needed the appropriate preparation for burial. She knew that under Bosmer beliefs, Faendal was supposed to consume his dead wife, take her essence into himself, but Camilla's brother was still nearby and would want to inter her in Imperial fashion. Faendal would be sick with the thought of Camilla's body rotting in a grave, but they weren't in Valenwood, and he had to abide by the law of the land.

Throughout everything, she'd never stopped loving him. She had been both happy for him and sick for herself when he and Camilla had married, when they had announced Camilla's pregnancy, when they had announced the birth of their son. She had showered them with gifts, made sure they had everything they needed. They had all loved each other, and Miranja had loved Faendal's son as if he was her own. She was beside herself with disbelief that it could have all gone up in smoke with one horrific event.

Faendal had married Camilla because she was "safe" and he'd never have to worry about her - yet because they were associated with Miranja, neither he nor Camilla had ever really been safe. It was her fault. Never before had she so resented being the "heroine" everyone had made her out to be.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter Nine

‘Congratulations are in order.’

Rhys swept his head into a mocking bow as he stepped closer to the raised dais where the high lord of the Autumn Court sat. He was flanked by his family; two sons and a wife on one side, Eris, Nesta, and another son on the other.

Look at me, Cassian wanted to scream. Would have got on his knees and begged the words. But Nesta did not look at him. Not once. She looked through all of them, her proud face staring ahead as if she was completely bored by the whole charade. Cassian had scanned her body for marks, for any sign of a physical wound. She seemed intact - at least physically. If anything, Nesta looked healthy. There were no signs of weight loss or exhaustion. Colour bloomed in her fuller cheeks.

Rhys had to be pushing against her mental walls, had to be speaking to her whilst they waited for Beron’s address. They needed to know exactly how Eris had twisted her arm into marriage. 

Nesta just continued staring ahead.

From the moment he had set eyes on her, Cassian had been captivated by Nesta. On her emergence from the Cauldron, she was utterly devastating. Even seeing her wearing the Mask in the Bog of Oorid hadn’t felt as unsettling as this. The female before them was truly faerie. Her silken hair cascaded to her waist in a sheet of burnished gold. The jewelled pins exposed the pointed ears gifted to her by the Cauldron. Her gown was from a story, heavy but delicate, framing the soft curves of her body, the deep green of the darkest forests. Her beauty was excruciating, a female who could bring males to their knees, drive them to insanity. And the wife of Eris Vanserra. 

The male gloated from his post at his father’s side, relishing that fact. A sneer curled his lips. Cassian didn’t put it past Eris to have only wanted Nesta in a sick retribution over what had occurred so many years earlier between him and Mor. Nesta would suffer due to a silly mistake between two horny teenagers that Eris couldn’t let go of.

‘I have to ask why an invitation to the wedding wasn’t extended to her family.’

‘Where is your once mortal mate?’ Beron asked from his towering throne. ‘Why does the so-called high lady of your court not offer congratulations too?’ 

‘Feyre is high lady,’ Rhys snarled, temper fraying far too quickly in Beron’s presence, in Beron’s home. 

Beron enjoyed the dissent. He’d capitalise on any misstep of Rhys’. The male had ruled long enough to know the laws that governed them like the back of his hand. Knew how to exploit them and twist them to his cause. He’d push Rhys until he snapped.

It was a mistake to come here. A mistake when Rhys was pushed to breaking point with the baby and Feyre’s lives at risk. A mistake when Mor had so much fear of this court. A mistake when even unflappable Azriel was panicked over Gwyn and Emerie. And a massive mistake for Cassian to see Nesta lined up with the Vanserras. None of them would hold their composure for long. 

‘Your court disrespects my daughter when its high lady does not offer her own congratulations - much more when she is blood.’

Daughter. Cassian knew Nesta well enough to notice her glimmer of surprise at the honorary title. Beron did not care for her; she was simply a pawn in his court politics. 

In an attempt to manage his temper, Rhys took too long to answer. 

‘Unless your court does not approve of my son’s choice of bride, Rhysand.’

They could damn Nesta. Say she was not a model female who’d push out little heirs and it was her life on the line. If she wasn’t good enough for Eris, it risked her. 

Mor spoke when the others could not. ‘Nesta would be a jewel in any court. The Night Court wishes them a successful marriage. Eris has waited five hundred years for a bride who is his equal.’

The high lord regarded her for a long moment, his gaze bitingly cold. He sat back in his throne, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. The male ruled his court through intimidation. The sentries that lined every inch of the massive hall were austere, silent guardians who feared punishment to themselves or family. Even Beron’s wife and children had to stand still, the high lord not permitting them to sit. He was a bastard. Cassian needed to save Nesta from this hell - but how? 

‘If you were my daughter, not Keir’s, I’d have hammered those nails through your skull.’ He sat forwards in the chair. Sentries pushed closer at the first noise of fury that slipped from Azriel’s lips. ‘Females should be seen, not heard. Do not speak out of turn in my court again.’

Throughout their minds, Rhys’ voice came clear and sharp, warning them to say nothing. They were seriously out of their depths here; all of them balanced on a knife’s edge. 

‘Now, now Beron. I’m not foolish enough to bring my entire court to your doorstep. It would be a temptation you might be unable to risk.’

‘What temptation is there, Rhysand? Lesser fae brutes and two sullied females?’ His sons sneered at his words, excluding Eris. ‘I saw enough of Tamlin’s castoffs under the mountain. We all did.’

Magic swirled around Rhys like adders drawing up to strike.

‘In the laws laid out by high king Fionn, to instigate a fight against a male in his home is an invitation to open warfare.’ Eris raised a brow as he spoke, ‘Can the Night Court withstand another war?’

By some divine intervention, Rhys quelled his fury, forced his churning magic back into the abyss where it would pray for the day it could topple Beron Vanserra. As much as Cassian hated to admit it, they would still need to support Eris’ claim for the throne. The death of Beron Vanserra needed to come sooner rather than later. 

Beron laced his fingers together and sank back into his throne. ‘You have passed on your congratulations.’ With a jerk of his chin to a commander, he said, ‘Escort my wife and daughter from here.’

***

Following behind the Lady of the Court, Nesta fended off the tremors in her body from seeing them again. On their exit, they were flanked by sentries who ensured the precious breeding mares of the Autumn Court saw no harm, as well as handmaidens who made sure they did not want for anything. Nesta did not even know the name of her mother-in-law. She doubted that Beron ever called her by it either.

Unexpectedly, they did not move towards the massive staircase that led to the main portion of the house. Instead, the Lady headed towards a different part of the vast estate until they reached an atrium. A patter of rain could be heard against the glass roof. Above them, the clouds were a deep grey, signalling further bad weather. Beyond it was the forest. Only a singular set of doors stopped Nesta from fleeing to its depths and figuring her way out of another mess.

Reedy plants grew in pots all around the room reminding Nesta of a jungle from her stories. Condensation lined the windows, and she imagined that in fairer weather, the room would be unmanageably warm. There were more plants growing in painted beds – delicate shoots and offcuts taken from bigger plants. All of it was work that required care and patience.

‘My lady,’ one sentry pressed when the Lady of the Autumn Court paused beside a raised bed in a wooden box. There was a warning in her voice. ‘We ought to return to the rooms.’

‘I don’t plan to garden. I’m not at all dressed for it.’

‘Then we must continue.’

The submissive female shifted into something fearsome. She raised her head to meet the guard’s eye, fire burning in her gaze. ‘Leave us.’

After a painful stalemate, the handmaidens filed out then the sentries. Nesta was left alone with her mother-in-law. The sentries on duty at the doors leading to the forest remained.

She had to wonder how such a place could exist – a glass room was surely too exposed to enemies.

The Lady leant forwards to prune a rose bush. A throb of pain bolted through Nesta. Her sister would love this greenhouse. If Elain accepted her mating bond – this female would be her mother-in-law too. She had not even considered the implications on Elain and Lucien by marrying Eris. And it brought her such a profound sense of sadness that Elain was so revulsed by Lucien when his mother’s hobby was gardening, just like her. Elain had never been loved enough by their mother. She deserved a mother’s love.

‘Pruning encourages growth.’ The Lady’s auburn hair fell forwards across her face like a curtain. Her voice was as sweet as sun-kissed apples. The dappling of freckles along her rose-blushed cheeks enhanced the russet of her eyes. Lucien’s eyes.

She went on clipping leaves in a precise manner, letting the discarded ones settled upon the soil.

‘Winter is the best time to prune roses, alas,’ she sighed, gesturing to the greenhouse, ‘eternal autumn.’

They stepped deeper into the mass of leaves and arching branches, the Lady making the occasional comment about pollination or invasive species which Nesta cared little for. She was tired and scared, wanting only to be somewhere safe and familiar.

Shrouded from the view of the sentries on the door, the Lady clutched Nesta’s hand, a wild fervour suddenly seizing her expression.

‘I can overpower the sentries to give you time to run. You must run, Nesta, and do not look back. Veer left at the gates towards the cabin. Tell the lesser fae that lives there that Eliška sent you. You will be free from Eris.’

The words were a punch to the gut. Nesta blinked with confusion.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I cannot offer this again. He will never let me be alone with you again,’ the female whispered, gripping her wrist so tightly that it would leave an imprint of her skin. ‘I can get you to safety.’

The lady’s beautiful face was wracked with terror. She had seen her husband warp her sons into grotesque versions of him. Did she truly believe that Eris was lost to her? That her first born child no longer could remove his mask?

‘I am Eris’ wife by choice.’

Her fingers dropped from Nesta’s wrist in shock. ‘I see.’

It could have been a test, Nesta realised with a start. A test of her loyalty so early on. But Nesta did not think the Lady of the Court would do such a thing. More than anything, she saw herself in Nesta; a female condemned to a life as the wife of a Vanserra.

‘I am glad to be his wife.’

‘Then I apologise for my words,’ the Lady replied, sweeping her head. When she lifted it again, hopelessness had taken the place of her bravery. Her russet eyes lacked any light. Once more, they were hollow, resigned to her sad life in the Forest House.

‘Your son is a good male,’ Nesta said, reaching her hand for the Lady’s.

Before their skin could touch, the Lady of the Court had stepped back, body going rigid. ‘Eris is his father’s son. I pray that your marriage is…’ She could not find a word. Nesta could not bear the look of despair upon her face. All she could see when she looked upon Nesta was a young female doomed to a life with a bully and she wanted her to save her from it.

***

‘You played your part marvellously. Well done.’

The Illyrian female did not share his mirth, instead stiffening her pose. ‘I don’t like that you cornered Nesta into marriage.’

It did seem that way, Eris could admit, but in the face of the Night Court and his father, it was the only option he could think of that would result in the least amount of blood spilt.

‘I can offer her protection this way.’

‘Please, don’t hurt her. She has been through enough.’ Not a forceful threat, just a female who wanted her friend’s safety above all else.

Eris would never hurt Nesta. He’d push her out of her comfort zone, encourage her to get a hold on her magic then thrive, but he’d never hurt her.

‘Give me time to figure out a way for you both to visit again.’

The copper-haired princess raised her eyebrows. ‘You’d really do that.’

‘Nesta isn’t a prisoner. I want the best for her – and that is you two.’

Eris had never heard so much laughter before. All evening, the three females had giggled and shrieked upstairs over only the Mother knew what. They were good together. He’d find a way that they could see each other again soon.

They readied themselves to be returned to Illyria. Eris was eager to be rid of them if only to ensure Nesta was safe in the Forest House without him there to stamp on his brothers.

A sudden thought struck him. ‘Will you be in danger from the Night Court?’

‘You think they will interrogate us?’

Eris could not say what they would do. The Night Court had been scared for their safety, but they were Nesta’s family and treated her worse than waste. He hoped they wouldn’t quiz the females though a nagging feeling said they might do.

‘Be honest with them. Nesta wanted you to visit. I brought you here. If they ask when we married, tell them the truth. This morning because the thought of going back to them terrified Nesta.’

‘What if they ask about this place?’ Emerie asked, eyes scanning the room as if Azriel’s shadows might already be listening in.

‘You don’t know where it is. You cannot locate it on a map. You can give them no usable information. Though now I am worried about returning you.’

The priestess grew unsettled at this remark, but Eris pushed on. ‘You would be safe in this cottage if you wanted to stay.’

‘I want to go back to the library,’ she murmured, fingers weaving through her hair.

The Illyrian, at least, did seem to consider the words but both females requested a return to Windhaven.  

***

If Nesta felt any relief at the sight of Eris Vanserra slipping into the dining room to join his parents, it soon faded. It was the most excruciating meal of her life. Beron nit-picked at everything his son did, going as far as criticising the speed in which he cut his food. There was little reaction from Eris except thanking his high lord for his sage advice and promises to be a better heir. Not once did he call Beron his father. He wasn’t a father; he trod on Eris over and over again through their meeting then turned his attention on Nesta.

A hand brushed against her thigh beneath the table but there were no other signs from Eris that he regretted the topic. For what felt like hours, dainty courses were trotted out to celebrate their marriage. Nesta pitied the poor servants who’d had to prepare the meals with no warning under the threat of punishment. Throughout their courses, Beron commented on her appearance, her education, her abilities and his plans for her. She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood.

‘I want her bred by the end of the month.’

‘Then let us make haste,’ Eris drawled. He gave Nesta a pointed look that meant she ought to rise too and depart with her darling husband. Was this what her life was to be? Her value would lie in how many sons she could produce for the Vanserra line.

Eris did not wait for her to gather herself as he slunk down the corridors without a farewell to his father or mother. The sconces lining the wall burst to life as his magic kindled them. Nesta followed his path, veering left through a corridor then down a set of stairs that led to rooms she recognised as his portion of the house that they’d winnowed to hours earlier.

‘Do not disturb us,’ he warned the sentries lining the doors on their duty. ‘Sentries or servants.’

The same intimidation tactic that Beron employed was mirrored in his son as he leaned in, inches from the young sentry on duty. His face was foreboding, a promise of pain if his orders were not followed.

Then Eris was gone, swaggering through the doors to his private rooms.

Did Nesta really have to follow him? The idea wasn’t appealing. Being found by Beron and having her appearance pecked at again was enough to force her across the threshold to him though.

Once the door clicked closed behind her, Eris locked it. His finger pressed to his lips. A hand linked in hers and tugged her through the lounge into a bedroom. That door was then locked too. A quiet hum enclosed around them as Eris set a shield around the room.

‘Off,’ he commanded to whichever dog had been sprawled out on the sheets then took a seat on the edge. ‘I returned Emerie and Gwyn to Illyria as soon as the Night Court winnowed away. They’re safe.’

‘How can I trust anything you say?’

For a second, Nesta wondered if her words had truly hurt him. His eyes had widened. He was too good of an actor to trust. She would be a fool to ever accept what he said.

‘I promised that I would never lie to you.’

Nesta folded her arms across her chest wanting to shield herself from him. ‘You have just spoken about me for the last hour about how you will use my power and breed me like a fucking sow, Eris.’

‘My father only sees you as a vessel. I tell him what he wants to hear rather than arguing.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If you cannot bear to play a part or wear a mask then you shouldn’t have agreed to a marriage. You know my reputation.’

‘My choices were limited, Eris. Although, I have to say how convenient this whole arrangement is for you.’

‘Go on.’

‘You hate Cassian. I am a piece of leverage for you. You will hold me above the Night Court’s head. You brought me here when I was vulnerable because-’

‘Stop.’ Eris stood, face white with fury. ‘Do not try and twist what I did. I brought you here because that brute had you trail behind him for miles after you’d collapsed. Cassian laughed when you fell down the stairs and blackened your eye. He did not help you once, Nesta. You were under his care. You were vulnerable and he exploited you by sleeping with you. The brute couldn’t even manage to spend a night with you after he’d fucked you. You were never his priority and never will be. Do not project your feelings about him onto me. Your brother-in-law threatened to kill you – that is why you came with me. I threw down my guard, gambled all I have worked for, to keep you safe so do not say this is convenient for me. For you, I risk everything.’

Eris’ words pelted her one after the other. The truth she did not want to face barrelled towards her, a light too bright to look at. Eris was not the villain here; she’d chosen to marry him because the alternative was facing the Night Court and Nesta knew she’d splinter if she had to endure it again.

The male began to speak, a regretful apology spilling from his lips, but Nesta didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t. She pushed past him into the bathroom and bolted the door.

She could not decide whether to be upset or angry. Nesta pivoted between the two, tears brimming in her eyes then vicious fury churned her thoughts. It had been a day of high emotions, one that left her mentally drained. And married. Nesta forced herself to push away the Eris she had seen displayed to Beron, who agreed with his crass words about filling her womb with seed, and instead think of the one who had found her in Illyria, the one who climbed through her window and made sure she ate, the male who brought a tutor out of retirement because she wanted to learn, who tricked her into jumping into a freezing cold river or who moved her into a cottage because she asked for space.

What Eris had said had been absolutely accurate – and Nesta hated that she’d refused to face it sooner. Under the guise of helping her, she had been brought to the House of Wind. They’d called her out of control. Only the Mother knew what they said behind her back. One of their issues had been that she slept with males she did not know. Then Cassian should never have touched her. Whatever sparks danced between them, he should have known that Nesta was not in a place to embark on anything. And she was furious with herself for seeking him out after he’d laughed at her, after he’d declared that everybody hated her. Where was her damn self-worth? Why did she crawl for the scraps of affection that Cassian offered her? Eris was right, Nesta would never be Cassian’s priority and she was ashamed and embarrassed for ever thinking that one day they could have been something more.

Once her temper had calmed itself, Nesta exited the bathroom.

Eris was waiting for her. He hadn’t tried to break into the bathroom or hammered down the door. She appreciated that he had given her some relative time alone.

Without saying a word, his arm came around her shoulders to guide her over the soft carpet and into the lounge. Candles had been lit around the room. To chase away the crisp, autumn night, a fire burned in the hearth where a smokehound lounged on its side, belly facing the warmth of the flames.

Eris settled her into a massive arm chair that seemed to swallow her whole. Reverently, he removed her shoes, bringing her bare feet to rest upon a pouffe. At the red skin where the straps had dug in, he drove his thumb in small circles. With his warm, gentle touch, he banished the pain.

Upon the low, three-legged table was a tray of tea, the steam still pouring from the spout of the pot as if he knew the precise moment her anger would break.

‘I’m sorry. I will never let my temper take over my tongue again. It was unkind and I apologise.’

A blanket was tucked around her legs then a cup of tea poured for her.

‘You said nothing but the truth.’

Eris winced. ‘I could have phrased it better. I should have. We have a saying here that some months feel like days and some days feel like months. This day has felt like a year.’

Exhaustion nibbled at Eris’ features. There had been little consideration of what this had cost him. He risked his alliance with the Night Court for her. So many of his decisions hinged upon risks and predicting others’ behaviour. He’d gambled not only with Nesta’s safety, but with his own. Nesta had not paused to wonder whether Eris even wanted her for a wife. Mor had been a bride that his father had decided for him. In five hundred years, he still had not married – a high lord’s heir was likely a popular choice for many but he hadn’t chosen anyone. And Eris was lumbered with her now.

Now that she had stopped, Nesta was exhausted. Pure adrenaline had forced her to the finish line. Her pathetic weeping in the bathroom had only helped to tire her.  

‘Is this how you imagined your wedding night to be?’

Eris sat cross-legged on the floor, a hand scratching the dog’s belly. He gave Nesta a once-over then shrugged. ‘More or less. I thought that any female forced to be my wife would likely spend her wedding night crying. If I had a choice, I’d have picked a brunette.’

‘Sorry to disappoint.’

‘You could never. Gold is becoming my favourite colour.’ Eris gave her a weak smile. ‘I’m sure you didn’t wake up this morning with the ambition of becoming my wife.’

Nesta made a harumphing noise. ‘I will have you know that my life’s goal has been to marry a pampered high lord’s son with far too many dogs. Mission accomplished.’

Her eyes trailed the tattoo on her finger to marvel at the intricate detail. It was beautiful, she could admit that much. Eris caught her looking then examined his own. His long fingers flexed.

‘Can I ask a question?’

‘I am your wife. I rather think secrets should not grow between us.’

‘Why did you tense when you saw the fire?’

The beats of her heart tripped over themselves. She hadn’t realised her body had tensed. It was second nature to appraise the room and position herself as far from the fire as she could. The Autumn Court fire burnt without fuel, thank the Mother.

‘Have you been burnt?’

Nesta could not open that door today, could not think of that day against Hybern. Despite her words to Eris, she lied. ‘Yes. When I was a child.’

‘My flames will only hurt you if I will it. You don’t need to fear it. Sometimes it’s warm enough in the evenings to not need a fire either.’   

The male rose with a groan. His hound came to his side without calling.

‘I need their names on collars. They all look the same except for Safera.’

‘This one is my favourite but don’t tell the others. Gelert is the only one allowed in the bedroom.’ Eris forced boots onto his feet and let out a yawn as he pulled on a jacket. ‘Nobody will enter these rooms while I’m gone. Do you need anything else to eat? Make sure you rest. I’ll sleep in the lounge when I return. Pray for me.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To face Orla and tell her that we are married.’ Nesta could not tell if Eris smiled or grimaced. ‘If I never return, I’m likely buried on her land.’

Taglist: @owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

[henrys-wee-hen]

No-one Fucks With The Lobos - Chapter 4

Mild almost-smut warning for this one. No gory shizz though.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48070186/chapters/121760764

Or read it here! Enjoy!

The days started to blur together. While I’d vowed the moment I’d been taken by him that I wouldn’t allow it to happen, I couldn’t control what was happening to me physically. The damage to my skin would be irreparable, I knew, and I’d made peace with scars long ago, since I knew a scar was a reminder of survival. But the pain, the agony, the fact that my body had the bare minimum of food and water to heal… that’s what got me, in the end. The sleeps I had were fitful yet so, so deep, and I found I could barely wake up whenever Teddy came in to go back over his little ‘T.L.’ on my shoulder. I only just registered him turning me onto my stomach half the time, his touch gentle.

Some days, I was lucid enough to fight back. Teddy started to learn my patterns. Every time he fed me, I’d have a burst of strength, and I’d bite back at him. But after a day or two of recovery, when my body was empty, stores depleted, I’d be submissive and pliant.

And yet, through all of that, I still hadn’t bent the knee to him. I’d remained silent. I’d kept quiet. I’d said nothing, rather than give him what he wanted.

Did I also happen to start craving those moments when Teddy put the knives, scissors, ropes, plastic bags, and gags down, and instead stroked my hair back, blew on my sweaty forehead to cool me down, swiped tears away…? Did I start melting when he told me just how good I was whenever I took the torture he gave? Of course I did. What else was I supposed to do? He told me he was going to break me, and that is exactly what he was doing. He was using my body and my mind against me.

For example, one particularly horrible torture session (one which had almost had me on my knees in front of him, clinging to his thigh, begging him to stop), he’d pressed his lips to my damp temple and told me it would all be okay, that I was doing amazingly well and that… that he was fucking proud of me. That he’d never met anyone so strong. That he’d never seen someone take so much, so gallantly… I’d melted back against the chair, whining softly as he kissed the hollow of my jaw, then my throat. Such delicate, soft touch, after the agony… God, it was like a drug. He was like a drug.

It got to the point where I started to want him to walk through the door. I wanted him to come into the room and see me, spend time with me. I wanted him to be with me, hold me, touch me. One particularly sick afternoon, I found myself in a feverish fantasy of Teddy carving me up just so he’d care for me afterwards.

But in those moments of fever, I also found myself dreaming of being outside these four walls, outside of the horror chamber. In his kitchen in the morning, making coffee and breakfast with him, dancing on the kitchen tiles slowly with him. Waking up in his bed, surrounded by Egyptian cotton sheets and his arms, watching his face – which I’d imagined to be so beautiful when completely peaceful – as he slept. Lounging on the sofa with him in the evening as we caught up on whatever TV we were watching together… I’d imagined him enjoying stuff like Narcos, or Breaking Bad. I even gave myself a spot beside him in that awful orange Dodge Challenger, his hand on my thigh possessively, protectively.

Yet, in all of those fantasies, Teddy was never a criminal. A bad boy, sure. Still covered in those delicious tattoos… but not a criminal. In fact, the lawful good in me had him as a banker, or something else that gave him the obscene amount of money he had. Something legal, though. That’s the only reason I knew I hadn’t lost myself entirely, because I still clung to the idea that he could be good, and the only cuffs that he’d be in were those he let me put on him one time, before he played with me and made me believe I was the one in control, but really he was as he threw me over the kitchen table and pou –

Teddy’s hand caressing my throat made me wake up.

“Good morning, Officer,” he purred, his mouth close to my ear. The smell of food drifted towards me. Beignets. Cinnamon sugar beignets. My eyes flew open, meeting Teddy’s devastating chocolate ones. “Sorry to interrupt whatever it was I was doing to you.” I flushed.

“I – nothing – nothing was happening –“

“Oh yeah?” A playful smirk danced over those fucking awful, addicting lips. He pushed me back down, a hand on my throat possessively. His other hand was above me, bracing on the wall. I didn’t realise he was practically lying on me. And then I realised.

My hand was trapped behind the waistband of my fucking sweats.

I closed my eyes and flushed, trying to turn my face away. Teddy’s eyes gleamed.

“All those times you’ve told me you’re not into me… yet here you are. Begging for me.” He turned my face to look at him. “Why don’t you explain exactly what I was doing to you, hmm, (Y/N)?”

“Nothing,” I whispered. Teddy laughed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest against mine. Coupled with the fact that he smelled incredible, shower-fresh… it was overwhelming.

“Nothing?” he mused. “You just usually fucking sleep with your hand down there…” he rolled off me a little, just enough to give himself space to replace my hand with his. My eyes flew open. Did I try to stop him?! No. Of course not. Why would I do something rational like that?!

“T-Teddy, please –“

“You’ve been here for four weeks, (Y/N),” he murmured, his hand moving to cup my ass and hold me against him. “Four long, painful weeks for you… and four short, exciting, fun weeks for me. And look at you… so fucking defiant at first, telling me you’d never yield… yet I walk in on you in the middle of a fucking party… about me… and I’m not fucking invited.” His breath was hot against my skin, the tips of his fingers running lightly over the ridges of healing scars on my thighs and ass just… fucking… my mind curdled. “What exactly am I meant to think about that (Y/N), hmm?”

Before I could reply with the witty retort inviting him to that party, Teddy removed his hand and slapped me hard, hard enough that the cut on my lip split back open and blood flooded my mouth. I choked and sat up as he got off me, running a hand through his hair. I could tell something had gotten to him when he adjusted his trousers, back to me. And despite the blood that now ran down my chin, I smirked to myself.

So, I was driving him as crazy as he was driving me… I could use that.

“I’m sorry, Teddy,” I murmured. “I g-guess I know who the boss really is.” Teddy turned his head to look at me in his peripheral. He ran both hands over his hair, sniffing. “Am I stronger than Officer Quincy?”

“Ha,” Teddy chuckled. “She’d have killed herself by now, probably.” He took a deep breath and turned to me. My eyes flickered to his crotch, which was – sadly – normal. He took a step towards me. “Hungry?” I nodded, and Teddy helped me up from the bed. He took a moment to assess my body for any blood spots (where wounds had opened), and once he saw I was clear, he took my hand, laced his fucking fingers through mine, and led me through to the room he usually tortured me in.

This time, instead of the harshly bright-white torture lighting I’d come to expect, the lighting was warm and dimmer. A table with two chairs was set up in the middle, with a breakfast spread on top. Juice, water, coffee, a plate of fresh beignets, toast, butter, Nutella, grapes, strawberries and blueberries. So, Teddy liked berries? I don’t know why I found that particular piece of information so attractive, but watching him grab a couple of grapes off the vine on the plate before he helped me into the chair was just beautiful. His jaw working as he chewed? Why were such human actions suddenly so addictive?

I stared at the food. One rule Teddy had taught me was that I ate and drank when invited to do so. Except water. Water was, in his eyes, a basic right, and without it I’d surely die. So, when I reached for the full glass of water, he didn’t stop me. He watched me, brows knotting a tiny bit as I drank half of it. I didn’t want to push it by reaching for a strawberry, too, but the thought did cross my mind. I was too hungry, and I was enjoying Nice Teddy while I was lucid.

Teddy poured himself a coffee, and then put a couple of slices of toast and a beignet on my plate. I watched him, my mouth watering. He gestured to the fruit, and I nodded.

“Please,” I said softly, with a nod. He obliged me, filling my plate. I waited, watching him as he started eating his own beignets. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the edge of his lips as he pulled out his phone and pulled up Wordle, of all things, and started guessing. Two guesses, and he had the word. He switched to Instagram, scrolling mindlessly.

It took him a full ten minutes to look at me.

“Not hungry?” he said, toying with me. I held his gaze. I felt like a dog, made to wait for its food, a full bowl on the floor in front of it. But if I looked down, given how hungry I actually was, I knew I’d cave, and I really didn’t want to throw this lot up. Especially not when I’d realised the beignets were from De Fleur à Farine, the best bakery in town.

“I’m starving,” I replied quietly, shaking a little.

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

“Because you… you haven’t… said I can.” The words nearly stuck in my throat. The look of pride that changed Teddy’s features made me melt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, grinning. “FUCK! Look at you!” he sat back. “God, I never thought you’d get to this fucking point, (Y/N). Go ahead. Eat.”

It was all I could do to not shove my face against the plate and inhale it. My fingers shook as I ate the toast that he’d (lovingly?) prepared, the beignet pure heaven, a little pillow of dough that seemed to caress my soul on the way down, stretching my stomach deliciously. Teddy watched me, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t eaten more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for four weeks, apparently. This was like a –

Shit.

SHIT!

I stopped eating. I let the toast fall from my hand. Teddy’s eyes sparkled at me.

Was this a last meal?!

“Something wrong, baby?”

“Please don’t kill me,” I whispered. I don’t know where the sudden fear for my life came from, not like this. I’d been fearing that since the first day he’d taken me. Tears started to drip down my cheeks. Teddy smiled patiently as I cried openly, hugging myself.

Teddy had been told this would happen. His father had told him that anyone in the throes of starvation of any kind – hunger, human contact, outside interaction – would react like this. Would be so overwhelmed once one of those needs were met. Starve someone of food? The moment they were fed and fed well, they’d break. Starve someone of human contact? The moment they were held, or touched, or caressed, or spoken to, they’d break. Starve someone of knowledge, and even the smallest little fact about their surroundings would destroy them. Teddy had seen (Y/N)’s iron will, and had realised that such a mind would be nearly impossible to break with simple tortures like those his mother chose to employ. Even his sister Mandy wouldn’t have been able to break (Y/N).

Teddy wasn’t his mother, though. And he sure as hell wasn’t the adopted little rat Mandy. No… he was Tedward fucking Lobo, son of Ritchie Lobo, and the heir to this entire thing. And he’d listen to his father over his mother any day. His mother, who always looked at him with such pity, such disappointment… if only she knew just how good he actually was at his job. Prince of New Orleans would someday be King… and she’d be dead before she’d get to see it.

He watched (Y/N) break down before him, sobbing openly. “Please don’t kill me.” Those words were a drug. And (Y/N) had fallen straight into the little mould he’d laid out.

Teddy stood after a moment and pulled his chair close to mine. He held me, soothing me as I cried. I don’t know why the food was what broke me, but I couldn’t cope with the idea of him going back to that torture. I couldn’t cope with seeing anything other than happiness at the thought of me on that beautiful face. I couldn’t stand the idea of him hating me.

Knowing that I’d been there for four weeks was huge. I hadn’t even realised so much time had passed! I wasn’t sure if I even cared, but some part of me was suddenly desperate for the news I’d missed while I’d been isolated. Questions, worries, doubts – they flooded my mind. The biggest question I had was about Katie, though. Her funeral. That’s part of the reason I cried, actually. Why I gripped the soft silk of Teddy’s black shirt, some hideous designer creation with a cat on the front and stars (?) covering the shoulders and chest. Why I curled into him as he soothed me. Why I nuzzled his throat, practically climbing onto his lap. He was the only source of information I had, the only source of human contact. I didn’t need hugs, or closeness, per se, but the idea that I was so adrift made me crave that stability.

“Shh, (Y/N), you’re good, it’s alright, darling,” Teddy murmured softly, stroking my back. He pushed his fingers into my hair to cup the back of my head, holding me almost like a baby. “You’re good… I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t kill me,” I whispered again, breathing in his beautiful scent as my panic subsided. “Please, Teddy… don’t kill me.” The real fear was that no-one would remember me, and I’d be another body the police would bury quietly and hide. Forgotten. A cold missing person case. I’d handled plenty of them…

“Not yet, sweet cheeks,” Teddy chuckled. “I still want you to have the chance to give me what I’ve been asking for.” He pulled me onto him properly, so I was straddling him on the chair. I tensed entirely, while he was completely at ease, one arm draping back over the chair, his other hand on my hips. I took hold of the front of his shirt instinctively, eyes huge. “What you want to fucking give me.” He looked at me, hooking his thumb behind the waistband of my sweats. The slow scratch of his nail against my skin made me shiver. “Can’t fucking help yourself, can you?” he breathed, mocking me with his eyes. “I don’t know why you still fight it, (Y/N). Give in. Let yourself have what you truly want… and I promise you, it won’t be as fragile as you think.” He moved his hand from my waist to my cheek, cupping it. I found myself nuzzling his palm.

“I just d-don’t want to be forgotten,” I said quietly, closing my eyes. “If… I d-die, they’ll hide m-me… my b-body…” I trembled as I spoke. Teddy listened patiently. “B-because you own them…”

“And I don’t own you,” he said, sighing. “Because you don’t want to give yourself to me. Yet look at you, right now. On my lap, fucking desperate for me to hold you and touch you…” He gripped my jaw, still with that same hand, his other arm still draped behind the chair… so fucking nonchalant… so fucking hot… He pulled my face close, and I arched my back a little, his mouth right next to my ear. “And I’ll bet you’ve absolutely fucking destroyed those real nice panties you’ve got on… just dripping and ready for me, regardless of how much your fucking mind says no…” He brushed his lips against my throat again, and a pathetic little whine left my lips. If I wasn’t ready for him before, I felt something trickle then. He laughed against my skin, his hand moving back to my waist. “It could be all yours, (Y/N). Ask yourself why I haven’t killed you yet. Ask yourself why I keep you in a fucking box, a box which only I’m allowed into, and I’m allowed to take you out of.” He looked at me, and as the light caught his irises perfectly, I could see just how blown his pupils were. As much as I wanted him, now, he clearly wanted me. He just had a lot more restraint, apparently.

Before I knew what I was doing, I kissed him, my hands trembling on the front of his shirt as I clung to him for dear life. He returned the kiss, his hand moving from my waist to the back of my head, controlling always. And I let him. Because I couldn’t be forgotten. I couldn’t be kept away, in the dark, no more than a ghost of a memory to the streets of New Orleans. Teddy shifted, sitting up a little so he could angle me back, both hands snaking up my body beneath my t-shirt, his fingers hitting every single one of the cuts he’d created. He traced the largely unhealed ‘T.L’ at the top of my shoulder, and I hissed, arching away from the pain. He chuckled, recapturing my mouth again.

I wanted him. I didn’t care about anything else. I wanted him. Even if I hadn’t took a knee for him yet, even if I hadn’t agreed to be his, I needed this. I hadn’t had sex for a long time, and my body was all too willing to betray me as it was. I’d have ridden him on that chair if he’d told me to. But he didn’t. He just held me, kissed me, riled me up so much that I felt the slickness coat the inside of my sweatpants so uncomfortably… and I couldn’t figure out if he was hard or not.

“Teddy –“ I groaned, wincing again as he pressed his initials on my shoulder. “Ah –“

“Shh,” he murmured against my skin. “Who do you belong to, (Y/N)?”

I froze up. Panting, I froze up. Teddy looked at me, a sly, horrible little smirk tugging at those lips… I felt the blood rush from my face to the pit of my stomach.

“How… fucking… disappointing.” In one very fluid movement, Teddy gripped the back of my head with my hair and stood me up, capturing my arms behind my back. He held me against him, mouth right by my ear again. “Now I know what you really fucking want, (Y/N), you’re going to wish I’d just killed you at the restaurant…” My heart nearly stopped as he took me back through to my bedroom and threw me against the bedframe carelessly. “See you later, baby.”

With that, the door slammed shut. I slid to the floor and burst into tears.

[drades-lair]

Memories

Fandom: Helluvaboss

Rating: T for swearing

Pairing: Striker x OC

Calus glanced over in the darkness of his master bedroom; Striker was laying with his back turned to the Dracony prompting a smile from Calus before he returned his gaze to the ceiling. Calus furrowed his brow in frustration then let out a hefty sigh, pulling the blankets off himself to allow his legs to swing out over the bed’s edge. Gingerly Calus made his way out of the bedroom wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs heading straight out onto the patio off his living room, grabbing and lighting a cigarette along the way. Calus crooked one knee allowing him to lean over the ornate black metal railing, one arm draped lazily while the other did similar over the first as the red moon of Imp City’s skyline illuminated his iridescent white scales. The Dracony took a long drag of his cigarette before blowing it out, tonight was just one of those nights he couldn’t sleep due to his brain shoving unwanted memories at him. Releasing another heavy sigh Calus swished his tail lightly from side to side while staring out over Imp City although it was loud the view was at least better then staring at his ceiling for hours.

“So, this is where Ya went?” Striker’s drawl suddenly radiated from behind Calus drawing the Dracony’s attention revealing the imp standing in the doorframe of the patio doors in his grey sweatpants.  

“Did I wake you?” Calus retorted over his shoulder

“Nah, everythin’ okay?” Striker asked coming along side Calus, leaning his back against the railing with his elbows resting upon its surface.

“Yeah, just can’t sleep,” Calus responded with a small smile

“Nightmares?” Striker wondered

“Memories…have I ever told you about my past?” Calus wonder

“Nope, I wondered somethings but figured you’d tell me when Ya were ready,” Striker explained looking at the patio’s floor.

“My father left me and my mother when I was only two years old…my mother was a Dracony, I never found out what my father was, but he wasn’t Dracony. My mother was forced to flee the Dracony house after defying their laws and getting pregnant via a different hell species.” Calus began to explain

“That a big deal for Yer kin?” Striker asked curiously, glancing back up at Calus

“According to my mother keeping the bloodline pure was of the utmost importance. My mother moved us around from place to place to avoid the hunters who were sent to find her…and kill her…and me,” Calus continued shifting his gaze to look out over Imp City again

“How long did that go on?” Striker wondered

“Till I was six…according to my mother’s diary the clan was getting too close…she couldn’t keep me safe anymore…she…she went to the council to plead for my life as well as beg for mercy for her own. I never saw her again.” Calus continued, taking a drag from his cigarette at the end.

“I’m gonna take it Yer father didn’t come back,” Striker guessed

“Nope, before my mom left, she told me that if she didn’t return within three days that I was to pack up what I could and leave,” Calus answered

“That how Ya ended up an assassin for hire like me?” Striker once again asked

“Eventually, I wondered around for a long time just…lost…till one day I made a choice. I could be weak and helpless for my entire life, or I could train…make something of myself, so that’s what I did,” Calus finished explaining with another puff of his cigarette.

“Sorry about Yer mother,” Striker offered

“Thanks…nights like these…I miss her. I went to the council once I considered myself strong enough unfortunately by the time, I got there it had been disbanded along with most of the Dracony clan…as of right now I might be one of the last in existence,” Calus explained again

“Humph, that explains the looks Ya get when we’re out,” Striker realized

“Pretty much, ha-ha,” Calus chuckled in agreement

“Got any regrets?” Striker asked

“Not really…the only one I can think of is when I was packing up to leave all those years ago, I had this backpack that could only hold so much thus I obviously packed the essentials however I also had this…ha-ha,” Calus trailed off with a laugh

“Had what?” Striker smiled in turn

“It’s going to sound ridiculous but, it was a plush bear…my mother made it herself to comfort me when I was just a baby and as a kid, I carried it everywhere…unfortunately once I packed all the essential things, I needed I couldn’t take the bear, so I left it that night,” Calus explained, gesturing the size of the bear with his hands.

“Hmm, I can see why Ya would regret that,” Striker sympathized

“Other then that I don’t regret much,” Calus admitted, turning to lean against the railing the same way Striker was.

“Not even gettin’ wit a gruff ol’ imp like myself?” Striker smirked

“Especially not that,” Calus retorted curling his tail with Strikers as he looked down at him

Calus dropped his cigarette on the patio, crushing it out with his foot while leaning down to press a kiss to Striker’s lips. Striker moved to stand in front of Calus both of them placing their hands on each others hips while they deepened the kiss under the blood red moonlight.

[nityarawal]

10/20/22

Molly Or Murder?

Morning Songs

Molly Or Murder?

What Do You Choose?

It's A Daily

Passion Test

Socratic Reflections!

Why'd You Kill Adrien

And Not His Dad?

Who Was The Real

Pedophile,

It Was Said!

Why Do You Go By

Dennis Sketchley?

When You're A

Campbell Spy

Working For Nazi Militia?

Why You Draw

Me "Swastikas?"

Don't You Know

They're Against My Laws?

I'm Mostly Vegetarian,

Feel Cannibalism 

Vibe From You!

You Don't Want To 

Love Us!

Your Energy

Mommy Hatin',

Is Killin'

My Ladies!

Your Mommy

Broker Debbie

Sketchley, Can't 

Save You Now…

She was Wrong- 

I Will Never Sleep 

With You!

Because You're

A Murderer!

Amd Who Wants Carbon Footprint

Karma To Shake 

Off A Nazi?

Broker Debbie

Pimped You

Out, To Militia

To Murder Idyllwild

Town!

Retired Broker,

Hiring Lap Dancers

And teaching You

"Wrong!"

That's Not What My Uncles

Need,

Or Want!

No More Brokers

Takin' Bribes! And

Givin' Pleas For

Domestic Terrorism,

In Our Streets!

You Sold Molly

To A Marine Uncle!

Her Stepmother,

Auntie, Murdered!

With Cancer!

You Said Your Brother

Was On Tinder,

Buying Sexual Favors,

Before She Was Even 

Dead!

Poor Molly- Now

13 Years Old- Had

To Witness All Of This!

She's More Like A

Niece To Me, Than

Don- For #ICareAlot

About Her Wellbeing,

And Health!

I Want To Hold Her

Hand, And Make Sure

She's Protected!

Help Her Knit

When She Reunites

With Her Mother!

You Apologize!

For All Scams

You Did!

Molly's Mom Was Slandered,

Trafficked On Meth,

Slummed Out Of

Homes!

She Has No Teeth Left! To

Show- For Your Smear

Campaign,

Grooming Your

Children To Be 

Abused By Courts,

Dr. Gardner

Method!

Rapes!

I Don't Want To Hold Her 

Hand,

For An Abortion!

I want to Take it

Now,

And leave

Those Nazis!

Somehow!

No More Bribes For

Your #PrinceOfPegging

Nelson Mother!

Or Your Stepfather!

Don Sketchley- How

Was Your Marine Brother

Named After Him?

Don Seems Duplicitous 

Campbell Lost His

Children,

Dr. Rawals Stepdad 

Keith Stewart Campbell

British Monster,

Took Mine!

Now, Marina Batham,

Coldwell Banker Broker,

Maritime-Brit-Abroad,

"Headhunted" My Brother

Like A Gigolette,

From Findhorn,

Scotland!

With Fake Tits!

Pretty Daughter's,

Needed Math Tutoring!

Was Seaberry Academy Grooming

Them Like Idyllwild Realty? 

Shane Stewart's Kids

At Idyllwild Academy

Beg For Help!

Called Crazy- Date Raped

By Therapist Tima Ivanova

For Telling Truth!

Atty Ken Carlsson Won't

Help Us Get Real

Estate Contracts, Or

Save Our Homes

In Genocide-

Re-Construct!

Scared! 

Jewish! Of

Nazi "King Henry"

Shane Stewart!

Dennis Has Gout,

Probably Cancer,

Tequila Worms

Growing And Spreading

Disease,

In A Militia "Oathkeeper"

Army!

Skin Oozing Amma

Smelly Pus

And Toxins!

He Meets His 

Proud Boys Clan

Every 3 years

Planned January 6

Insurrection,

Marshall Law

With #Trumpleberry

"OLD MAN TRUMP,"

From A Hundred

Years Ago!

On Murder Row,

Hiding!

No More Silencing.org

You're Not A Lord

Anymore!

You Lost Your Campbell

Rights!

And Name,

Raping Moms,

Pimpin' Children,

Murdering Dads-

In Name Of Nazism!

Your Truck Was There,

All Night Long!

On Country Club

You Tried To Come

Into My Home!

Snow And Landlord

Are My Alibis!

We Heard You

Yell, "Getting Out Of here!"

Truck Door Slam!

Before You

Went To Party,

Celebratin'

At Pete's

With Murderers Militia!

You Trafficked Jessica,

And All Country Club

Moms, With Shane 

Stewart; Idyllwild

Realty,

Coldwell Banker

Sotheby's

Homesmart Realty

Mom, Broker

Debbie Sketchley!

Indeed

Sketchy!

How Many Are

Unlicensed

Harassed?

You All Shall Pay

Me $5000 a Week;

To My Charities,

For Your Son's

Murders And Pleas!

No More Gag Orders!

I'm Whistleblowing'

On Him!

Dennis Beat Me,

And Stole My

Furniture, Art,

Time With Kids,

And Girlfriends!

Dennis Rolled Jyoti's

Car Tire Down The

Hill, And Threatens

To Throw Her From

A Hundred Stairs!

Alex And Eric Saw

My Bloodied Knees!

At Idyllwild

Mountain Liquor!

After What Dennis Did

To Me!

His "Scenic" House

Is But A Detention 

Center, Armed With 

Guns, Windows

Boarded/ Curtained!

Jyoti Goes Back

For Her Cat,

To Shower,

For Food- to Cook

Not Him!

She Claims To Have

Blue Ovaries,

From Tortures

Gay Militia put Her

Through!

A Tickbite In Bed

Dustin Must've Planted!

Dennis's Dr. And Him

Butchered Me Too!

Now I Have A White Scar

Over My Heart!

You Stole Our Wallets,

Jeans And Underpants-

So Nicky Would

Suck Your "Dick!"

You Raided My Homes With

Dustin- Pseodonamed- For

Alex Grover!

Gay Sheriff Jeremy Parsons,

"Cleaning Up Roads!" 

Raping Moms!

With Shane Stewart Militia!

I Need It All Back!

Tell Atty Ken Carlsson,

He's Lucky You Didn't 

Kill Him!

For I Defended All

The Jews- Your Neighbor

Larry! And Carmel

Benson Too! 

She's Ruined Idyology,

In Name And Form, Politically,

I Know You Said

You wanted to "F" Her

Over-And I Couldn't

Let That!

No, I Polished Her

Silver- Served 

Ken Carlsson!  He Ate

From- Every Night,

To Make Sure

I Had An Alibi!

She Never Let Me

Pay Him!

Not At Work,

Or Help On His

Estrangement Website,

With Credit Card,

For She Was Bribed,

A Phd,

For Sure!

Everyone Hates Her!

Hospitality Sucked,

They Were Hurt!

By Her Drunk

Words!

And Violence To

Underage Staff!

You Don't Call A

Child A "Bitch!"

'Cuz You're In A Bad

Mood, Or Take Bribes

From The Courts!

Officers Raping Employees,

Waiters,

Instead Of Driving Them

To Court!

Drugged To Kill

On Mental Health Warrants!

You Don't Pimp

Out Staff

To Sheriff Jeremy

Parsons, And Laugh Drunk

Serving "Rapists" Burgers!

Because You Drove 

Your Business Into

A Hole!

You Don't Steal Your

Celebrity 

Chefs Knives, Pans 

And Recipes,

Because He Won't Sleep

With You!

(Like Dennis

The Handyman!)

Steven Has Vows!

How Dare You Pimp

Him, With Slander,

Sexual Assaults,

And Hound Me

Because He Left

You!

We All Need Reparations,

For "Idyology" Damages!

Work Man's Comp!

Ken Witnessed All!

Need Damages

For Broker Slumlordings,

3rd World Draught

Ponzi Scams!

Hooker Harems

Won't Do In Long-Term-

Covid,

For Our Precious

Children!

Need Rainforest, Tahoe Sands,

Iowa Too, North Carolina

Water- Reparations!

EncinitasBeachHome.com

Hacked BACK Up

And My Kids

Delivered By Noon!

Or My Thuggie

Handyman Threatens

To Kill-

Us All!

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

https://linksharing.samsungcloud.com/z6VQ0cXiXMdI

[khimili]

fly me to the moon

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: Bucky loves to flirt with you, and most of the time it just leaves you flustered and confused. Because you like him, a lot, and he’s infuriatingly handsome. He's quite a ladies' man and it shows. He knows exactly what to say and where to touch you to sweep you off your feet. But maybe there’s more to it. Word count: 7.5k Warnings: cocky!bucky, mutual pining, two idiots in love, teasing, flirting, banter, sexual tension, a bit of angst, smut (dirty thoughts, masturbation, dirty talk, dry sex, edging, oral sex, unprotected penetration, praise kink), fluff Author's note: I’m literally obsessed with cocky!Bucky and I’ve been dying to write something like this for ages. It’s long, it’s messy but I was inspired and I hope you’ll like it. Banal, ordinary, conventional, predictable, exceeded, seen and reviewed, flat, unoriginal cliché ahead, bear with me please!

“Listen Y/L/N,” Bucky said casually, looking at you with a boyish smile of his own. “If you want me to take you out for dinner, just ask.”

You shook your head and tried without success to find your voice. It seemed to be jammed in your throat somewhere, and even though you had already done it multiple times, your eyes insisted on taking another inventory of tall, broad and handsome man standing in front of. He didn’t seem to mind you looking. In fact, if that cocky smile of his was any indication, he liked it rather a lot. Heat crept up your cheeks and he laughed, the sound reverberating somewhere deep inside you, drying your mouth and wetting other portions of your anatomy.

“If you think I’m going to purposely spend one of my few nights off with you, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to the man you love?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Barnes,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re not even as charming as you think you are.”

“Doll,” he sighed, suddenly grabbing his chest dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

You tried to play it cool, just waiting for him to quit fooling around. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him your best tough-chick-with-an-attitude look. Unfortunately, he seemed less than impressed. God, why did he have to be so gorgeous? His clingy shirt showed off a broad, powerful chest tapering into a lean waist that you knew featured a six-pack in the ab area. He caught you staring and flashed you a satisfied smile. You were pretty sure smiles like that were against the law in some state. Suffering from a severe case of jelly-knees, you had to look away.

“Come on, there has to be something you like about me,” he said, leaning back into his chair, arms behind his head. “Be honest.”

“Barnes,” you warned. “Your little mind games don’t work on me.”

“Admirable deflection, doll,” he laughed. “You never struck me as the type who would be afraid of her own desires. But if you prefer to pine, gazing longingly from across the room when you think I’m not paying attention, shutting down any feelings that get in the way of–“

“Fine!” you interrupted him, nearly shooting. “Parts of you, maybe.”

“What?” he asked, his amusement instantly replaced by interest.

“There are parts of you I like,” you mumbled, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

And it was a blatant lie. Because there were so many things you liked about him.

“Care to be a little more specific, doll?”

“Your hands,” you admitted, watching him looking at his flesh hand. “Both of them.”

“My hands,” he said faintly, stretching his vibranium fingers, making you shiver from head to toe in the process.

“Yes,” you admitted. “You have– You have beautiful hands.”

“I’d like so much to know what sinful fantasy’s going through you head right now.”

“Don’t. Barnes, just– Please, don’t,” you begged, a hint of desperation in your voice.

“Jesus, doll,” he said, his flesh hand closing around your arm gently. “Do you expect me not to use this to full advantage?”

“Well, I– I was told you’ve been raised to be a gentleman.”

You said it in a very calm, steady voice, even though your heart was jackhammering. His hand felt wonderfully warm and solid on your arm, and his body seemed to radiate a comforting heat. Up close, you could smell his perfume, along with an exotic, musky scent you couldn’t put a name to. It was difficult to think properly when he was invading your personal space like this, and lately he was doing this a lot. You fought your arousal as hard as you could, but when he was standing so close to you with this very predatory look on his face, it was a battle you couldn’t win.

“Do you wish to know what I like about you, doll?”

“Barnes,” you whispered as a warning.

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. And to be honest, you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to lose yourself in sensual pleasure. But he didn’t, and it was just as well. You were ashamed that he could reduce you to a whimpering puddle of lust from barely doing anything. That he could take control so quickly.

“Relax. I’m not going to ravish you on that worktop,” he laughed gently, handing you a clean mug from the dish rack. “Would you be a dear and put that back in its proper place for me?”

“Sure.”

Slowly, you turned around on shaky legs, taking a deep, steadying breath. You pushed up onto your toes and raise your arms to reach the top cupboard, sliding the cup in its place.

“This,” he said quietly, his fingers gliding over the exposed skin along the curve of your waist, making you shiver. “I like this a lot.”

“Fine! Take me out for dinner,” you suddenly exclaimed, shutting the cupboard door and pushing him away. “Now, back off.”

“See?” he asked, smug satisfaction spreading across his handsome face. “All you had to do was ask.”

Before you could fully process what he had said, he stepped in close and bent down. He brushed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You’re the worst.”

Bucky Barnes was a fucking tease. That’s what you were thinking, trying to regain your composure in the ladies’ room. He had spent the whole evening playing with your nerves. Small touches here and there, charming smiles and fine words, making you gradually lose your mind. He was good at that. Almost too good. And that was what scared you the most with him. You had no intention to become another notch on a rather long belt of meaningless one-night stands. You knew too damn well how he were, but that didn’t prevent you from being attracted to him like a stupid moth to a flame. A very sexy flame. Tall and broad and handsome. And–

Fuck. You clearly needed to get your shit together. That dinner – which you insisted wasn’t a date, would soon be over and you would go on your separate ways. You would go to your bedroom and lock the door. You would probably touch yourself to get rid of your nasty thoughts, trying your best not to moan his name out loud. You’d think about his large hands, his tempting mouth, his hard cock pounding relentlessly into your pussy as he’d fuck you face-first into the mattress with your hands behind your back. That sole idea made sucked in a breath; hands wrapped tight around the sink. You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door opened behind you.

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you exclaimed. “You’re in the ladies’ room!”

“Oh, come on, as if you didn’t want me to follow you there,” he laughed with a cocky smile, walking toward you like a fucking predator. “Are you going to deny it?”

You found yourself unable to answer as you watched him coming closer to you. You wanted to run, and at the same time you wanted to throw yourself at him. In the blink of an eye, he was facing you.

“Barnes,” you nearly begged. “Don’t…”

“Kiss me,” he asked, his lips nearly touching yours. “Kiss me, and I swear to god, if you don’t feel anything I’ll leave you alone.”

“One kiss?” you asked, your voice full of hope.

“One kiss.”

You could do this. You were an adult, not a goddam horny teenager. All you had to do was kiss him and be done with it. What was the worst that could happen? You just had to pretend that you were not attracted to him. Because even though he was a lady’s man, you knew he would keep his word. Your eyes went from his to his lips, and back again. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak. One of his hands went to your cheek and you stopped breathing for a moment. You couldn’t think. And when he bent down and brushed his lips against yours, you rational thoughts flew out the window.

“Nothing,” you lied, almost breathless, but he made no move to let you go. “Barnes, you promised. You promised you’d leave me alone.”

“But you didn’t kiss me, doll,” he purred. “I did. Come on now, be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

Your thighs clenched to his words. This man would be the death of you. You pushed up onto your toes. Shoving one hand into his hair, you gripped the back of his head and pulled him down. Bucky watched your eyes until your mouth touched his. You saw his lashes lower, felt a small quiver run through him. You had intended a little, teasing peck to his lips, but that tremble made something snap inside you. You tipped your head and kissed him hard, nails scratching through his hair and down the back of his neck. To your delight, he growled, hands snapping up to wrap around your waist.

Suddenly, he dragged you forward, shifting his feet beneath you. He set one on the inside of your legs and pulled you onto his thigh. He traced your lips with the point of his tongue and you pressed closer to him, your hand slipping under his shirt to rest on his abdomen. He was solid, and warm, and goddammit, an incredible kisser. He dragged one hand up your back and wrapped the length of your hair around his fist. He tugged, tipping your head further before giving a quick, exploratory sweep of his tongue across yours, making you moan.

Before you could stop yourself, you wriggled. His leg was solid between yours, pressing exactly where your wanted. You whimpered again and sank your teeth into his lower lip, your nails still digging into his nape, holding for dear life. Bucky made a small sound that seemed half-caught in his throat and you pulled back, scraping his lips between your teeth, to look at him. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his pulse were fluttering above his collar. You hated to admit it, but he had proven his point. You were obviously attracted to him, but that didn’t mean you had to give in you urges.

“That was–“ you started with a hoarse voice. “That was not–“

His eyes shot open and in one swift motion, he made your turn around, pressing your back to his chest.

“Look at you, Y/L/N,” he whispered, grabbing your throat to make you look at your own reflection in the mirror. “Wearing this– This fucking dress… You like to torment me, don’t you?”

“Nothing–“ you whimpered, shifting your heels to give him better access. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a low growl, grazing his teeth along your neck, his flesh hand finally finding its way under your dress. “Jesus… That’s why you went commando tonight, right?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your tongue appeared to be glued to the roof of your mouth. You had too many brain cells focused on the pulsing heat at the small of your back to unstick it. You were literally swimming in arousal at this point, and you suspected you would expire of frustration if your demon were to stop his mind game. As if on cue, Bucky’s tongue flicked out, tasting the shell of your ear. When a sound finally escaped your throat, it wasn’t the protest you had been planning; it was a low, urgent moan.

“Please,” you sighed, clenching your thighs together against the sudden surge of your desire.

“Good girl,” he cooed, tightening his grip around your waist, making you feel the entire length of him in your back.

You expected him to take advantage of the situation. In some ways, it would have been easier for you to hate him. Against all odds, he simply took your hand and guided it to the juncture of your thighs, leaving warm kisses on your neck while doing so. You fought against his urging for about half a second before giving in with a strangled moan. Your desire was just too much for you to fight it. It felt like you had to come, or you would break into tiny little pieces, never to be put together again. It was his fingers you craved, but you’d rather die on the spot than admit it out loud.

Slowly, you slipped your hand between your legs and stroked yourself, his fingers laced to yours in a possessive embrace. The touch was gentle, barely there as you drew lazy circles over your sensitive clit. Your cheeks burned in shame when you realized how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you put just a bit more pressure on your clit, sending an electric shock through your nerves. Your shallow panting turned into a moan against your better judgement. There was something far too intimate in the way the both of you were standing.

“You drive me crazy, doll” he growled in your ear, biting your lobe. “You have no idea what’s going through my head right now.”

“Tell me,” you begged, fastening the peace of your fingers without even realizing it. “Please.”

“My, my, Y/L/N, you’re something else you know that?” he asked with a chuckle. “D’you wish to know what I’d do to you if you were mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned, grasping the back of his neck with your free hand to stop you from tripping because of your wobbly legs.

“I’d spread your legs and put my fingers inside your sweet cunt, finding you soaked just for me,” he purred, grinding against you. “I’d hold your hips still and drag my tongue all along your slit. I’d eat you out and make you come so good, doll.”

“James,” you moaned, your hand tugging at his hair.

“Maybe I’d push your face down to worship and suck my cock, would you like that? Put that tempting mouth of yours to good use,” he resumed, and even though you didn’t answer, the loud moan that escaped your lips spoke volume. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? I’d bend you over and fuck your tight little cunt, make you come all over my cock again and again ‘til you beg me to stop.”

“I– I’m coming,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, good girl, come for me,” he praised, smiling against your skin. “Let go, Y/N.”

It was your name on his lips that sent you over the edge and your vision flashed white with pleasure. The tail end of the orgasm rippled through you as you realized you were in the middle of a public restroom and your hand was still between your leg. Muscles quivering in the aftermath of the massive release, you lay your head on his shoulder and breathed like a runner at the end of a marathon. For a long, breathless moment, you bathed in the warmth of the afterglow. Bucky’s vibranium arm was tenderly wrapped around you and he was still peppering kisses along your neck.

“Well,” he said quietly against your skin. “That settles it.”

“Hm?” you asked, lazily, your mind still clouded by your mind-blowing orgasm.

“You were right,” he explained with a smug smile. “There’s absolutely no chemistry between us.”

“Cocky bastard,” you muttered under your breath, hiding your smile in his neck.

You were roaming inside the kitchen, suddenly craving for your favorite brand of cookies. You were pretty sure there was one box left but you couldn’t get your hands on it. By now, the rest of the team had learnt not to steal your food, but you had still covered your cookie box in, ‘Don’t eat my cookies you fuckers’, ‘Y/N’s property, back off’, ‘I don’t know who you are, but if you eat my food, I will find you’, ‘Ask Tony for a raise if you can’t afford your own food’ and ‘Don’t you dare’ sticky notes. Reaching for the top cupboard, you pushed up onto your toes just to see that if was empty.

Well, not exactly empty. There was a sticky note. ‘Sorry doll, midnight munchies. BB’. Motherfucker. Why did he have to be so infuriating? In a fit of rage, you slammed the cupboard door and left the kitchen. This bastard was clearly making your blood pressure shot up beyond the safe limit. You rushed through the corridors, hammering the floor with your feet, and went to the elevator. First floor. Fourth floor. Hurry up, goddammit! Fifteenth floor. Finally. You charged out of the elevator like a water buffalo, directly to Bucky’s room. You didn’t even bother knocking before entering.

“What did we fucking say bout eat–” You stopped dead in your tracks, greeted by the sight of Bucky wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs. “Jesus fuck! Why the hell are you naked?”

“Well, last time I checked, I was in my room.”

“You could have warned me!”

“You kinda burst in here like a cannonball,” he laughed, not even trying to hide his partial nudity. “What am I supposed to do? Put a sock on the door or something?”

“A sock on the– Who does that?” you asked, dumbfounded, before you remembered what you were coming for. “Nevermind! I don’t care. You fucking ate my cookies! Again!”

“Your coo– Oh, you mean these?” he asked with a devilish smile on lips, grabbing the empty cookie box on his desk. “Were they yours?”

“You know damn well they were mine!” you nearly shouted, crossing the distance between the two of you to pull the box out of his hands, hitting him with it to punctuate each of your words. “It’s. Got. My. Name. All. Over. It!”

“Ouch! Why are you so mad?” he asked, laughing, as he threw your makeshift weapon away and pulled you gently into him. “Is it so important?”

“Yes, it is,” you whined, not even trying to fight his embrace. “I wanted cookies…”

“I’ll buy another cookie box, I promise,” he said, gently kissing your nose, but you were still pouting. “Okay, two more. Ten. Fifty. An entire truckload of cookie box just for you!”

“Yeah, just so you can eat everything as soon as my back is turned,” you accused him, hiding your smile and letting your hands roam his broad chest. “And that’s completely beside the point, because I’m hungry now!”

“You drive a hard bargain, doll,” he purred before pushing you gently onto his bed, covering you with that big, strong body of his, pinning you in place. “Let me makes this up to you.”

“Get off me, you cookie monster,” you growled, struggling helplessly.

Forbidden arousal tugged at your center as you remembered that night you had shared a few weeks ago. It had been your own hand that brought you to climax, but it had been Bucky’s dirty talk that had made that climax inevitable. You swallowed on a dry throat, your emotions ping-ponging wildly, moving too fast for you to identify them all. You hated the sensation of being trapped underneath him with nowhere to run, hated the fact that he was playing with you like a puppet. And yet, it was hard to deny the desire to find out what would come next.

“Trust me,” he murmured, and you didn’t know whether it was his words or his tone, but the shiver that ripped through you was equal parts excitement and fear.

Bucky’s weight shifted above you. He was smiling down at you, his baby blue eyes glowing faintly. Your breath came in shallow pants and your mouth was dry with desire. He lowered his head slowly, giving you time to push him away if you wished. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. A feeling of desperation rose through you and you kissed him deeply. You moaned into his mouth, and he responded with a soft grunt, his tongue exploring your mouth. Your hands, animated by their own will, slid against his torso.

His lips touched the skin of your neck, and it was like your body went up in flames. A decidedly unchaste moan escaped you, and you wrapped your arms around him, your hands buried in his gorgeous, silky hair. His lips were soft and warm, but there was nothing soft about his kiss, as if he was trying to eat you alive. If he had kissed you any harder, it would have left bruises. One of his hands went up your chest, his finger curling possessively around your breast, and his teeth suddenly closed around the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He hadn’t really touch you yet, and you were already a moaning mess. You were pretty sure you could have stayed like this forever, forgetting the outside world existed, but he used his knee to nudge your legs apart, then settled between them. Even though he was still wearing his underwear, desire clouded your mind and you felt yourself arching against him. He pressed himself hard against you, eliciting a deep moan out of your lips, and your hips bucked against your will. You dress had ridden up and he was almost directly pressed against you. You wanted more. You hooked your fingers into his boxer-briefs.

“No,” Bucky whispered in your ear with a husky voice. “I won’t make love to you, doll. You’d regret it afterward, and that I cannot allow.”

“Why are you being– Such a tease?” you asked, fumbling with your words as he bit on your skin again.

“I can still take care of you,” he purred, squeezing your breast while doing so. “I can make you feel good. So good. I just need you to use your words.”

“Yes,” you pleaded, writhing under his touch. “Please…”

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips ghosting your skin.

You desperately wanted to rip off his underwear to feel him inside you, but you kept your hands buried in his hair to resist the temptation. His hips began to move, his cock stroking you beneath the thin layer of cloth. It shouldn’t have felt so amazing, not to a mature woman who had already had sex before, but there you were, writhing under him. Bucky was in full control and the sensations were almost too good to be true. Feeling him thrust against you, his cock hitting your clit just right with each stroke, had you on the verge of orgasm in no time.

You arched up against him, wanting to take that next step into bliss, but he slowed his pace and lightened his strokes, tormenting you and making you ache for release. You tried to hurry him along, your legs wrapped around his waist, but he would have none of it. And when you released his hair, meaning to hurry yourself along since he was not cooperating, you soon found your hands pinned above your head. He was in charge, and he was letting you know. You were too busy moaning out loud to find the force to protest.

He kept you hanging there, right on the brink of orgasm, for what felt like forever and a bit more. The anticipation tightened every muscle in your body, and every once in a while, you had to remind yourself to breathe. But it also felt so good to be on that brink, knowing with total certainty that he would eventually push you over and that it would be worth the wait. You almost didn’t want it to end, though it didn’t stop you from straining your body up toward him. You realized he was probably edging himself at the same time, and it fueled your desire.

“Tell me what you need, doll.”

“I need to come,” you moaned, fighting his grip on your wrists. “Please make me come.”

Just when you were beginning to think you couldn’t bear it for another moment, Bucky gave one last hard, perfect stroke, and the pleasure exploded through your body. You screamed something incoherent as your back arched and your toes curled, you heart threatening to hammer its way out of your chest. He kept trusting against you until he had milked every last spasm of pleasure he could out of you and you lay there completely limp and panting for breath. It was a while before coherent thought returned. When it did, you realized Bucky hadn’t come, still hard against you.

“You didn’t come,” you stated awkwardly as you felt heat creeping up your cheeks.

“I wanted it to be about you,” he said quietly, caressing tenderly your cheek. “My beautiful, beautiful, Y/N.”

“Stop it,” you said playfully, pushing his hand away, straddling him in one swift motion. “Don’t go sweet talking me!”

“Are you finally falling for my charm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are we about to finally admit our feelings to each other?”

“You wish,” you answered, trying to pretend your heart didn’t climb the millions at his words and hoping the warm flush that had crept up your face would go unnoticed.

“Put me out of my misery, Y/N,” he whined dramatically.

“Put you out of your misery, right?” you asked, silently wishing he was being serious. “Let me do something for you then.”

“Y/N,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as you pulled his boxer-briefs down. “You don’t have to– Fuck…”

He gripped the sheets as you pulled his cock upright and wrapped your fingers around it. Anything else he might have said disappeared from his mind. All he could focus on was the feel of your hand on him. He'd wanted this for years, dreamt about it night after night, imagined it every time he stepped into the shower or laid back in his bed with his fingers sliding down his length. You stroked him, your grip loose around him as you moved from head to base. Bucky gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose.

You slid your fingers up to the head of his cock and slid his foreskin up and down before gently dragging it back. He bit back a grunt when you trailed your thumb down the underside, brushing the sensitive part of his shaft. He tipped his head forward, watching your hand move, and you looked up at him. You met his eyes and smiled as you rose up a bit, free hand wrapped around the back of his neck to pull his head to you. You kissed him, tongue sliding over his with the same rhythm as your fingers on his cock. Bucky shuddered and jerked in your grip.

“Like that,” he muttered, his head crashing back down on the pillow as you circled the pad of one finger over the head of his cock. “There, just– There, fuck, like that. That's so good, doll. Just how I like it.”

Humming to yourself, you followed his whispered directions. Long glides, shorter pumps, firmer at the base and lighter near the head. He could feel his heartbeat in the shaft under your fingers, could see it in each throb as you stroked him. He stared at you, mouth open and panting for breath, as you leaned forward. You looked up through your lashes, eyes locked on his, and wet your lips. Flattening your tongue, you dragged it up the length of his cock, one long lick from root to tip. He grabbed the edge of the sofa and swore in a deep rumble.

Your hair swayed around your shoulders as you worked your tongue over him, around the ridge, across the head. You took your time, peppering kisses along his shaft, sucking on the head, before opening up and taking as much of him in as you could. Bucky clutched the sheets again and swore, groaning when he felt the back of your throat. Lashes fluttering, you pulled up quickly and focused on the head. Bucky watched you in awe, forcing himself not to buck up into your mouth each time you licked a bead of precum off his skin. He felt a tightening in his abdomen, core muscles tensing, and he put a shaking hand on the back of your head.

“I’m close," he mumbled. “Don't want– If you don't like–“

You shook your head. You stroked him again, watching his eyes. Faster, both hands around his length, pumping him in your fists. You kept your eyes on his face, never looking away from him. He felt his skin tingling, heard his heart thrumming in his ears. Without taking your eyes off his, you ducked your head and closed your lips around him, latching around the head of his cock as he came. Bucky's eyes snapped wide open in surprise and he groaned deep in his throat, unable to stop the short, quick thrusts between your lips. You held the tip in your mouth until the last spasm ended, then sucked gently as you pulled off.

“Fuck,” he moaned deeply. “You’re a little witch, you know that?”

“Hmmm,” you purred as you swallowed his cum, giving him a knowing smile. “Are you finally falling for my charm?”

“Yes,” he laughed, still out of breath. “A thousand times yes!”

“Stop fooling around, Barnes.”

For a brief moment, he seemed… Hurt? But in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Maybe– Maybe he had meant it. This thought caused you great distress until common sense came back to you. Of course, he didn’t mean it. You waited a bit more, but Bucky gave no reaction. After a few moments, he finally got up of the bed with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. Next thing you knew, he was his normal self again, relaxed and smiling. He put back on his boxer-briefs and gave you a flirtatious wink when he caught you staring.

“Like what you see, uh?” he teased you, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “My dearest Y/N, just admit it already.”

“Shut it, punk,” you answered in a playful and gentle tone, unable to hide your smile. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the cookies you owe me.”

Every Friday was movie night. The room was a bit chilly, but the plaid cover thrown across your legs provided you some comfortable warmth. The rest of the team were off outside the building doing whatever it was that they preoccupied their time with. Well, not exactly all the rest of the team.

Bucky was sitting beside you on the couch, his body a second source of warmth that soaked into your pores and relaxed your clenched muscles. Your lips curled up in a tender smile, driven by a will of their own. It felt good, kind of domestic. And for once, you deserved to feel good, if only for a little while. You let your eyes slide shut, still smiling faintly. Bucky’s fingers traced over your face, caressing from forehead to chin and back again. You sighed and turned your face into the caress, your body relaxing even more.

His hand cupped your cheek, and he pushed you away a bit so he could look into your eyes, his gentle smile warming you in ways the plaid cover couldn’t. It was so easy to fall under his spell, to let yourself relax and open up in his presence. Something deep inside you longed to let go completely and to entrust yourself entirely to his care. You were tired of being always so vigilant and guarded. The idea was as tempting as it was scary, because you knew you could easily end up with a broken heart.

You started to pull away from him, confused by your own change of mood, but he just held tighter until you could barely move. His sensuous lips curved into a smile, but he didn’t say anything. Holding the back of your head, he bent his own head toward you.

“James,” you whispered, battling to say calm despite your racing heart.

“I love it when you say my name,” he whispered with a husky voice, his lips maybe an inch from yours. “I could get used to it.”

As he closed that final distance between the two of you, his lips touching yours, you felt a fire burning in your chest. You made an incoherent sound, half protest, half pleasure, as he feathered kisses over your lips. You wanted to tell him to stop, but when you opened your mouth to say the word, nothing came out. Your tried once more to squirm out of his grip, but your body refused to move. And though it seemed completely out of place, a bolt of affection shot through you. He took advantage of what he must have considered an invitation and slid his tongue into your mouth.

One of your hands slid along his chest while the other tugged at his hair almost desperately. His free arm sneaked around your waist as he tasted the inside of your mouth with gentle, delicate licks. A moan rose from your throat, and even you could hear the longing in that sound. You wanted to be his. You wanted him to be yours. It suddenly became obvious to you. Kissing him felt like abandoning a part of yourself in the process, and you were more than willing to do so. All you could think of was how your heart ached for him.

When Bucky’s tongue stroked yours more firmly, you felt like your body might melt with the pleasure of it. He tasted so good you thought you could never get enough; a bouquet of flavors you would never get tired of sampling. His lips were soft and moist, his body a reassuring cocoon of warmth surrounding you. Although you couldn’t miss his massive erection with his legs tangled with yours, he wasn’t trying to take this to the next level; you would have been more than willing. When he broke the kiss and released you, your first reaction was a mewl of protest.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, doll,” he growled, his voice hoarse with desire.

“I want you…”

“Falling in love, at last?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes,” you admitted in a small voice, your heart dropping into the depths of your already nervous stomach.

“My, my, you’re– Wait. You– What?” he stuttered, staring at your face wide-eyed.

“I love you,” you said, caressing his skin tenderly with shaking fingers. “I should– I should have said it before, but I was just scared. But now… Now, I’m not scared anymore. I– Do you–?”

All of a sudden, he grabbed you, hauled you up against his body and kissed you. Your resistance to that kiss lasted perhaps a total of ten milliseconds. When you gave in to it, you gave in with all your heart, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging for all you were worth. It felt almost surreal to feel his body so close against yours.

When his tongue dipped into your mouth, you let out an uninhibited moan of pleasure. His hand cupped the side of your face, and the warmth of that touch melted some of the ice that had formed around your heart. You never wanted him to stop. While his lips were on yours, your mind went on vacation, wandering in the most amazing places. Instead of thinking all the time, you merely felt. His lips were soft and wet on yours, just like you liked them, and in that thought, your heart started beating staccato.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Bucky had more to say to you, so he broke the kiss long before you were ready. You made an incoherent sound of protest and tried to capture his lips again, but he put his hands on your shoulders to hold you off. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were dark with desire, but somehow, he found to willpower to stop. He lowered his head, resting his forehead against yours. There was no denying he was a treat to look at. Baby blue eyes framed by thick lashes, sun-kissed skin, muscles in all the right places. A dream came true.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Show me…”

“You shouldn’t say things like that, doll,” he chuckled quietly. “I could take advantage.”

“Please,” you moaned. “I need you, James. I need–“

Once again, he interrupted you with a kiss and you abandoned yourself to his warm embrace, relishing his taste and smell. Fire burned through your veins and your heart hammered in your chest as you straddled him on the couch. With a moan, he shifted so you could feel his erection pressing firmly between your legs. Your hands moved with a will of their own, plucking open the buttons of his shirt and smoothing over the skin of his chest. Still kissing him as if your life depended on it, you found his nipples and tweaked them, making him moan and jerk beneath you.

He pushed your shirt and bra up until your breast were bared, not bothering to unbutton or unclasp anything. He just couldn’t wait to see you. Without any warning, he surged forward, seizing one of your nipples between his clever lips. It was your turn to moan, and your back arched without your conscious volition. His tongue rasped over the hardened bud, and he sucked just hard enough to be almost painful. Then he fastened his hands under your butt to lift you from the couch, eliciting a moan out of you.

He set you on your feet by the couch, then attacked your button-fly jeans. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to pull the shirt off over your head and lose the bra. You pushed his hands away before he has finished with the buttons, but his cry of protest died when you slid his shirt off his shoulders. You reached for his belt as he tackled the remaining buttons on your jeans. He got rid of his socks as you shoved his pants and boxer-briefs down his legs. You meant to go down on your knees and take him in your mouth, but he was too impatient to get to the main event.

He pushed you onto the couch, dragging your jeans and panties down, then cursing when everything got tangled around your ankles. He cursed some more and finally successfully freed your legs from the bundle of clothing, making you laugh in the process. You knew from personal experience that Bucky was usually a slow and gentle lover, loving the foreplay and the buildup as much or even more than the climax itself. Tonight, finally assured of your love, staring at your nude body for the first time, he was too desperate, too needy. But then again, so were you.

He fell on top of you, using his knee to shove your legs apart, and planted his lips on yours. The brush of his tongue was so incendiary that it felt like every nerve in your body spontaneously combusted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung, a greedy, whimpering sound rising from your throat. Taking a deep breathe to cool off, he pushed your hands out of the way, circling your wrists with his fingers and pinning them to the couch beside your head. He raised his head just enough to give him room to speak. You could easily see the mingled heat and determination in his eyes.

“You make me lose my mind,” he shuddered, planting a gentle kiss on your nose. “Keep your hands to yourself, let me take care of you.”

“I want to touch you too,” you begged, writhing under him.

“Behave, doll,” he warned, nipping at your lower lip, then soothing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You wanted to argue with him, but he plunged his tongue into your mouth, and the only sound you could make was a moan. As soon as you surrendered, he let go of your wrists, using one hand to draw maddening circles on the slope of your breast while his tongue tangled with yours. Instinct urged you to wrap your arms around him again, to hold him close to you and feel the warmth of his skin under your hands. You fought those instincts, kissing him back with every drop of your passion while you lay still beneath him. There was a raw hunger in his eyes and you shivered, not sure if it was because of anticipation or desire.

His head lowered and he trailed kisses down your throat. You had to curl your hands into fists to keep from running your fingers through his hair. As he worked his way down, those circles he had been drawing on your breast finally shrank until a single finger brushed your nipple, over and over. Your back arched again into that touch, but his hand move away far before you were ready. The good news was his mouth was moving steadily south. You didn’t completely understand the game he was playing until his mouth started circling your nipple.

He mimicked the pattern his fingers had made before, and his hand slid down past your navel. When you realized that his mouth was going to continue following the trail blazed by his fingers, you moaned loudly. You groaned when his fingers circled your clit, knowing that with just the tiniest hint more speed or pressure, you would have gone off like a rocket. But he knew how to read every nuance of your responses so he could keep you on that razor’s edge without pushing you over. Inside your chest, your heart was racing.

You took a certain savage satisfaction in the fact that once Bucky had made his way down to the juncture of your thighs, some of his inhuman control seemed to suddenly snap. Instead of teasing you mercilessly as he had with his fingers, his tongue took only a brief sample before he settled in to word in earnest. You were already on edge, and pleasure overrode every other thought and sensation until you almost forgot how to breathe. Your hips slightly raised as if seeking out his mouth in case he planned to leave, and he obediently sucked on your clit.

“Right there! Oh my god, James,” you cried, coming undone under his tongue with a loud and deep moan, finally gripping his hair as you thrust your hips against his mouth.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he moaned out loud, giving your pussy one last lick. “Tell me,” he panted, his lips curved into a smirk as he crawled back to you, kissing you on the mouth. “Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, letting you taste yourself of his tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted against his lips. “I’m yours.”

You felt him nudge at your entrance. He moaned again in your kiss as he slowly sank into you, stretching at your walls. You were wet enough to let him bury himself in one thrust, and though it was a first for the both of you, it felt like coming home. You pulled his head down to yours, and he kissed you with all the pent-up tension of a man who has been separated from his true love for months. You drowned in the reality of him, in the natural fit of your bodies, in the dizzying rush of his desires, in the terrifying intensity of his love.

Emotions rioted within you, bumping into and tangling with each other so wildly that you couldn’t have named a single one of them. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of your face, but you barely felt it as your concentration narrowed and focused on the place where Bucky and you were joined. Every other sensation became inconsequential as you felt the tension building there, coiling tighter and tighter, until you thought you couldn’t stand on the edge of that cliff for another moment. When the coil finally released, you screamed. Dimly, you were aware of Bucky reaching his own release, his cry seeming but a shadow of yours.

He cuddled you in the aftermath, your head cradled against his chest, your legs intertwined, both of you panting desperately for air. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist in a solid, unbreakable grip. His chin rested on the top of your head. You inhaled deeply and caught the delicious sent of him. He felt so warm and strong against you that it sapped all your will. You could stay there forever and you knew he’d let you. He cupped gently your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up toward his. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly. “You’re too good for me. Almost too good to be true.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you chuckled playfully.

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