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miracleonice87 · 4 years ago

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

Lamaze (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: When Spencer walks into Reader’s Lamaze class, things heat up for a moment, just before the cool down at the true intentions of Spencer’s presence.

A/N: *MY OWN GIF AND YES IT LITERALLY BROKE MY HEART WATCHING THIS REPLAY OVER AND OVER AS I MADE IT LIKE THERE IS SO MUCH HAPPENING AND SO MANY MEANINGS AND TAKEAWAYS FROM THIS SINGLE GIF* Category: Drabble, One Shot, Fluff Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Word Count: 2k Content Warning: pregnancy, unrequited love, a lil bit of shade to miss Jennifer Jareau

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was never a boring day working as a LCCE - Lamaze Certified Childbirth Educator. Every week, I prepared pregnant women and their families for childbirth. When I’d tell people what I did for a living, they often didn’t know how to react, but that’s expected. The job is so unique and is one that people don’t realize exists until I tell them it’s my job. It was also one of the most rewarding jobs. Childbirth fascinated me. All the small and crucial elements that went into making a life was amazing. There was so much happening within a woman’s body to create a baby and for that reason, there wasn’t a lot I didn’t see. Not much could really surprise me after how long I’ve been working as an LCCE. Except today proved me wrong.

I was in the middle of teaching one of my classes when I heard the door open behind me. When I turned around, a tall, handsome, very much not pregnant man stood in front of me. This wasn’t the shocking part, because husbands are always encouraged to come to Lamaze classes. The shocking part was that this man was missing his pregnant counterpart.

“How may I help you?” I asked, stepping away from the couple I was assisting.

He played with his fingers nervously and looked down at his feet before he finally answered me.

“I, um, I have a friend. Her name’s Jennifer. And we work together and I just wanted to come to these classes to prepare for . . . for the birth.” He stumbled through his words, but I got the jist of it.

“Oh that’s wonderful. Is she waiting outside now?” My question seemed to agitate him. He went back to twirling his fingers.

“Actually, I came alone. I - I thought I could audit the class? AmImakinganysense?Sorry.” His words seemed to mesh into one at the end because of his anxiousness. I thought his choice of words was funny too. It was like I was a professor and he was a student just eager to learn. It was quite endearing to say the least.

To settle his nerves, I reached my hand out to gently squeeze his upper arm. His eyes darted to my hand and then to me. This allowed me to finally meet his eyes. They were this beautiful mess of brown, maybe even hazel, and a little green, possibly gold, too?

“Jennifer’s lucky to have you as a friend. Not many people are willing to go to these lengths for their pregnant loved ones. I admire what you’re doing -” I paused to allow him an opportunity to give his name.

“Spencer.”

“I admire what you’re doing greatly, Spencer. Please, come join us.”

As I led him to a free yoga mat, I helped him adjust to his surroundings. He ungracefully stumbled into a criss-cross applesauce position, which made me smile. His long legs stopped him from sitting comfortably.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” I told him, before getting back into the center of the room to instruct the whole class.

People always told me that I had a quality about me that was calm and peaceful. They’d say that if all else failed with being an LCCE, I should be one of those people that work with crystals and spirits and burn sage. They would say my voice was soothing and serene. My friends even had this running joke that I had a “hippie soul.” Someone that radiated tranquility. I didn’t see what everyone else saw, but for the first time, I could actually see my effect on people in action.

While I led the class, I couldn’t help but peer over at Spencer. I could see he felt out of place, so I simply smiled at him, to let him know that he was very much welcome here, and that smile did wonders. Throughout the duration of the class, Spencer became much less anxious and started immersing himself into the experience.

At the time that Spencer walked in, we’d already completed two steps: 1. Discussing emotional and physical changes. 2. Preparing for childbirth with affirmations, progressive relaxation, and positive imagery. So now we were on the third step: Breathing and pushing techniques.

When I announced this to the class, I could feel Spencer shift back to his high-strung behavior.

“Everyone - I’d like you to turn your eyes to me and my friend Spencer here,” I chimed in. This made his eyes widen in confusion. “He and I will be demonstrating this first breathing technique.” I joined Spencer on the yoga mat, gesturing for him to open his legs to let me sit between them. He did so without any question or resistance.

“First, get into any position that both you and your partner find comfortable,” I waited patiently for each couple to situate themselves. Once I saw everyone was ready, I spoke again. “Now, Mommies, I want you to lean into your partner.” I illustrated this to everyone by leaning back against Spencer. With my back on his chest, I swore I could feel his heart beating rapidly. The gap between us was no longer existent, and we were so close that I heard his breath hitch as he tensed up behind me. The back of my head was perched on the space between the crook of his neck and his shoulder, situated somewhere along his collarbone. I could feel his long curly hair brushing past mine. I could tell he was nervous so I lovingly put my hand on his knee. My touch must’ve been magic because Spencer relaxed instantaneously.

“Now if the partners would please put their hands onto the mommy’s stomach. Mommy’s after your partner does this, you’ll put your hands on your tummy, too.”

I looked a little behind me to address Spencer. “I have a fake pregnant belly that I can put on if you want to simulate a more realistic experience, or if you’re okay with it, we can just pretend I have it on.” I offered. He shook his head no. I nodded and returned to my position of leaning on him.

“Alright, Spencer. Feel free to put your hands wherever you’re comfortable.”

His left hand hesitantly snaked around me. He hovered his hand over my tummy, shaking with uncertainty.

“Um,” He gulped. “Is this okay?” He placed his gentle touch on my upper obliques. I nodded, while helping guide his right hand.

Before his hand was touching my tummy, I hadn’t realized just how big his hands were. This left us in sort of a predicament. When his left hand found a spot, I realized there wasn’t much room for his other hand, let alone both of ours. So I improvised. I placed his right hand just under his left. It rested comfortably on the rest of my abdominals that his left hand didn’t cover. To reiterate, I hadn’t known just how big his hands were, so I wasn’t anticipating that his ring and pinky finger would extend past my stomach and ghost over that small space just above my heat. Sincerely, it felt like butterflies fluttered in my core when I felt his touch. I shuddered and quickly sat up in shock.

“I’msorrywhatdidIdo?” He rushed through his words again.

“Nothing, nothing! You’re doing great.” I assured him, while settling back into my previous position. Spencer’s hands returned to my stomach and luckily, his finger didn’t graze over my center this time.

Seeing as my own hands had nowhere else to go, I simply put my small hands on top of his. I could just feel Spencer smile at this. His energy felt different once i did this, like he was actually starting to enjoy himself.

“Okay, so with the teeniest, tiniest amount of pressure, you’re gonna push down on my tummy, Spencer.” I instructed, pressing my palms harder into the back of his hands so he would know to follow suit. At first, he was being too gentle, so I told him to put a little more pressure, and once he got the right idea, continued my instruction.

“Okay, now we’re gonna try a breathing technique. So I’ll start - and you follow.”

I inhaled, held it, and exhaled. The next time, I listened for his inhale, hold, and his exhale. He must’ve been a quick learner because after just hearing it once, he got the hang of it.

“Yeah. That’s it there you go.” I encouraged him, taking another deep breath and then exhaling it. “Good job, Spencer!” I cheered, balling my hands into fists with his hands still in mine. My palm was on the back of his hand, whilst my fingers intertwined between the gaps of his own.

It was a more intimate gesture than I intended it to be, but it surprisingly didn’t scare him.

As I released myself from Spencer’s grasp, I decided it was time to conclude the class. “You all did wonderful today and I’m so glad we got through the first three steps together. I will look forward to seeing you all next session.” I trumpeted to the attendees.

Something I always did was wait around by the door to say goodbye to all of the people in the class and answer any last minute questions they had before leaving.

Just as the last person exited the class, I made a mental note that I hadn’t remembered saying goodbye to Spencer, but he couldn’t have left yet since there was no other exit besides the one I was standing by. Instinctively, I poked my head back into the room and saw Spencer sitting exactly where I left him. “Whatcha still doing here?” I walked back over to him.

“I don’t know actually.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts, like he was a million miles away.

I silently took a seat in front of him. “So I know earlier you told me that you’re just Jennifer’s friend, but that doesn’t mean that her pregnancy hasn’t impacted you in some sort of way. Maybe we could do the first step you missed - discussing the emotional changes of her pregnancy.”

He wordlessly nodded, refusing to meet my eyes.

“So how has her pregnancy changed you emotionally?”

No response.

“Would you say Jennifer’s pregnancy has been easy?” After a while, he shook his head no.

“And why is that?” My question wasn’t answered for a small period of time, but I didn’t mind waiting. I had the patience of a saint, or as people liked to say.

“I thought maybe if I knew how to help her or how to care for her, she’d,” He laughed at himself mirthlessly. “She might . . . fall in love with me,” He finally looked up to meet my eyes. “I’m still holding out hope that we’ll have a future together.” He sniffled.

“Oh, Spencer,” I sighed, pulling him into a hug. He gladly accepted, melting into my embrace. He nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck. “Waiting is a sign of true love because anyone can say I love you, but not everyone can wait and prove it . . . but I also think . . . sometimes we may love the wrong person. Wait for the wrong person. But the one thing I know for sure, our mistakes will help us find the right person. Just be patient and don’t rush things. Anything worth having is worth waiting for.” I meant every word I say.

I wanted Spencer to have someone that wasn’t just proud to have him, but would also take every risk to be with him. (And maybe in that way, I was a better friend to him than Jennifer).

I just wish he believed that he deserved that, because truly, honestly, and wholeheartedly, he does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine

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blubberingmess · 4 years ago

Text

[Home]

Pairing: Bucky x plus size!reader

Summary: After a too long week of a mission, Bucky can't wait to go home.

Warnings: slight mention of breeding kink.

Requests are open!

*gif not mine*

As soon as the quinjet landed after another successful mission, Bucky didn't waste any more time and began walking ahead of the others after saying a quick goodbye, duffel bag full of weapons and ammos sling on his left shoulder.

The elevator pinged as it stopped, stepping out and made his way to his bike. The engine purrs to life before riding off, away from the tower and to the place he calls home.

"That guy is whipped, I'll tell you that." Sam stated beside Steve, who is also staring at his best friend's retreating figure. Both already knowing why he's in a rush. How can they when it's the only thing that left Bucky's mouth throughout the whole week long of mission.

Just thinking about going home after a such long mission and finally spending time with his love made his heart race, roaring the bike a little bit faster.

The small cream colored house came into view, the sprinkler on the small lawn is already on and the garage is already opened for him to park his bike. A quick glance at one the tiny security sensors hidden on one the walls, relieved that it's on and not triggered whatsoever.

He quickly parked the car and closed the garage, walking inside the house with light feet.

Bucky didn't even think about changing from his combat suit, his mind is fixated on one thing. The one thing that made every mission boring and too long for his liking even if it's half a day long of a mission. The one thing that made him careful during missions, to go back home unharmed - or he would get a smack on the back of his head for being 'reckless' and 'stupid'.

The smell of something savory and sweet wafted through the air, entering his nostrils as he nears the kitchen. A soft humming of a song he knew too well can be heard inside making the familiar butterflies in his stomach flutters around.

You continued to stir the pot, humming to yourself to relieve some of the worry that's blooming in your chest. It's been a week, Bucky promised to come home early today, but it's already late and he didn't called for two days straight. He always does, even in the middle of a mission to ask if you're okay.

Bucky can't help but admire you from behind with soft, love-sick expression on his face, not acknowledging his presence all while too busy cooking - or worrying he don't know. Times like this made him question himself 'how can someone like me deserve someone like her?'.

The sight in front of him made him feel like this is all just a dream, a dream he never wants to wake up from. You're all he ever wanted; flaws and all. Can he call it a flaw if it's one of the reason why he fell in love with you in the first place, one of the things that made you the most perfect human being in his eyes.

To some people it might be, but not to him.

Damn, if that thick thighs, plump waist, pooched belly, and cute cheeks made them turn off, it made Bucky feel the exact opposite. Never failed to make his groin itch for you and blood pumping. Every woman is beautiful and that's completely true, but he prefers someone with a little bit more meat in them.

Who is he kidding? He loves his women chunky. Someone who can carry herself like a queen-- a goddess. Someone who doesn't care about what the others think. Someone who can bear his children, all healthy and safe with the help of those wide, sexy hips.

Someone like you.

Fuck. He just loves you so much.

Bucky bit his bottom lip, eyes trailing up from your ass to your belly as soon as you slightly turned to the side, showing him the small bump. He felt his pants tightens at the thought of taking you right there on the kitchen counter, maybe even male you wrap your legs that he loves so much around his head and eat-- he needs to calm down... Maybe later. He just needs to--

"Bucky!" You cried after you turned around after turning off the stove, finally noticing his presence behind you. He smiles warmly at you, standing up straight from leaning on the entrance wall, opening his arms for a hug.

You carefully run towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky snaked his arms around your plump waist, giving it a light squeeze as he hurried his face on the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"I missed you so much baby." Bucky closed his eyes as you spoke, giving your neck a light kiss. You sighed in content, closing your eyes.

"I missed you too babydoll."

"Hmm," you hummed, leaning back and opening your eyes up at him. The glint in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by Bucky, the oh so familiar look in your eyes that he knows so well.

"Why don't you show me how much, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky smirked, hand dropping from your waist and down to your ass. He pressed his forehead against yours, giving your ass a light slap that immediately goes straight to your core.

"Don't mind if I do, Mrs. Barnes." Bucky smiles. With his other hand, lifting yours up to his lips, kissing your ring finger that has the silver banded diamond ring lovingly.

Note: might make my oneshots longer or not? I don't have the 'keep reading' , and don't want the mobile users to scroll so much just to skip this (I feel ya) but I also don't want you to read something so short. Or it is something you want?

Grammar errors/ wrong word used? Feel free to point it out... kindly.

#avengers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader smut #winter soldier x reader #avengers x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x chubby!reader #bucky x chubby!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x pregnant!reader #H1

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

Honey & Velvet - Part 8

A/N: Maxwell fuckers - rejoice. Here ya go. I hope you enjoy ;) I’m not gonna lie in my head I drew some inspiration from that scene in Narcos. Y’all know the one. If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know, and as always, feedback and comments are always welcome! xx

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: sex, mostly sex, so yeah 18+ (aka mostly porn with little plot)

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“It’s a promise.”

“And just what would you do to me?” you wiped the reminder of your spit from your chin, glancing at your reflection in the mirror over his shoulder. You tried to fix what was left of your lipstick, but it was no use. It was gone to hell, just like you were sure that your soul would be too after what you had just done. And surely would be doing soon enough, “how would you have your way?”

You hopped up and propped yourself up on the edge of his desk, leaning forward just so your breasts were pushed towards him. A dangerous little smirk crossed his features as he stood in front of you, causing you to swallow nervously. His ring clad hand went to your throat as he squeezing lightly, just enough to create the lightest bit of pressure. It went straight to your core as you tried your best not to come completely undone then and there. You still were not willing to give into him that easily.

"Are you nervous?" he asked quietly, leaning forward so his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine as your eyes fluttered closed, an inadvertent reaction to his touch. This man really did have a hold over you.

"No," it was a half lie, concocted to get you ready to deal with whatever he was going to do to you. You'd wanted this for some time now, but now that the opportunity was presented and ripe for the talking you were experiencing a bout of nerves. You cursed yourself silently as Maxwell trailed his hand up and held your cheek. It felt like his dark, almost black with desire eyes, were peering right into your soul.

"We can stop," he offered suddenly, and a panicked look crossed your features as you shook your head no. You planned this all weekend, hell you'd come over to his office in lingerie and an overcoat, there was no way you were backing out now.

You reached for the collar of his expensive looking button down, before slotting your mouth against his and kissing him with a renewed sense of urgency.

He smirked slightly against your lips as sparks of electricity seemed to jolt through your bones at the sensation of his lips on yours. There was something about kissing Maxwell that was different from anyone else. His mouth moved against yours in perfect synchronicity, his hands on your shoulders but slowly moving down to your velvet covered torso as he stare to tug on the delicate fabric.

Your hands slid to his shoulders and you moved to slip off his suit jacket, causing him to pull back momentarily as you tossed it onto the floor. You had a feeling that in most normal circumstances he would have chided you for that, but he was so lost, so drunk on your touch that he wasn't phased.

He trailed a handful of kisses down your jaw and neck, each one hungrier than the last before he stopped at the hollow of your throat, inhaling deeply. You carded a hand through his thick blond locks, trying the capture of softness and intimacy of this moment before it was gone. You had a succinct feeling that it would last much longer; not today anyway. But then again, you didn’t really know what to expect with him.

Maxwell tugged on the delicate fabric, pulling it down the expanse of your chest and letting it settle at yours hips, leaving you exposed, much more than he was. He hands went to the soft flesh of your breasts and he massaged them with his large hands, causing you to momentarily forget yourself as you tossed your head back and let out a small sound of delightful surprise. He was surprisingly reverent in his actions, gentle, as he lowered his mouth, nipping and biting at the soft skin.

But when you caught yourself and put your hands back on his shoulders, pulling him back from you, bringing a hand to his chest, “you’re wearing too much clothing.”

With slightly trembling hands, you reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them in a languid fashion, taking time to undo them one by one. Maxwell was watching you closely, almost in a predatory way as you finally, finally, finished and pulled it open. He tugged it off, followed by the crisp white wife beater underneath, leaving his chest bare. His skin was a golden tan, and you couldn’t help but admire it, pulling him back to you by the belt loops of his trousers. Pressing a few small kisses to his the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, you didn’t stop until you were reached his neck, marking him pointedly with your lipstick. He was yours now.

He grabbed your face, this time more gently than he had done in the past and brought your face closer to his. There was such an intensity behind his gaze that you almost couldn’t handle it; the coil in your belly was slowly tightening, already threatening to snap at any moment.

“I am not a nice man,” he insisted quietly, his voice a low timbre that spoke straight to you soul. This was a dangerous position to find yourself in, but you had wanted, craving it to a point where you were not sure you would be able to handle it much longer, “do you understand that?”

“Yes,” your response was a breathy thing, almost inaudible to your own ears. He traced his thumb along your kiss swollen bottom lip, admiring how you seemed to pout at him. Admiring the lips that had been around his cock, the lips that he’d kissed and claimed as his.

“I will not be gentle,” a small look of concern crossed his features for a moment, but any fears that he had were quickly quelled when you grabbed his wrist and slowly put two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, coating them with your saliva as you refused to break eye contact with him.

“Good,” you brought his hand down to your soaked center, letting his fingers touch over your most sensitive area through the black velvet. He let out a sharp exhale as realization, even through the fabric, that you were wet, very wet, “then take me.”

Something within him snapped as he brushed everything off of his desk, beyond caring about the mess or the noise it made. Someone would clean it up later and his door was locked; he only had his eyes on you now. He looked over you for a moment before pushing you back, back, back until you were lying flat on his desk, sprawled out for him.

He tilted his head to the side as he observed you, needy and wanton under him, a large hand trailing down your body and stopping at your hips. In one foul swoop he pulled the lacy bodysuit completely off and tossed it onto the floor. A light shiver, one of pure delight and nerves ran through you as he drank you up. His hungry eyes drank up every inch, every single bare inch, of you as he spread your legs apart.

“You are perfection,” he murmured quietly as trailed his fingers gently up your thigh, stopping at the apex, the very spot where you needed him the most. He could practically feel the heat and warmth radiating off of you, and finally gave in as he ran a finger through your slick folds, “and so wet. Tell me, is all of this for me?”

“Maxwell,” you could barely manage to say his name as he lowered himself to his knees, pulling you closer to his so your soaked center was directly in front of him, “please.”

His grip on your legs was iron, vice like, as he nipped along the delicate skin of our inner thighs, making it a point to leave marks that would you would see for days, marks that would constantly remind you of him. Trying to spur him on, you raised your hips lightly, and he chuckled lightly as he put a hand on your hips to hold you still, “patience is a virtue.”

“Patience doesn’t get me off,” you huffed at him, ready to make some sort of smart remark, but Max was quick to quiet you as he put his mouth on you. Immediately you were silent, seeing nothing stars as you laid back down and gripped the sides of his desk so tightly that your knuckles were turning white.

He used his fingers in conjunction with his mouth, licking stripes up your folds, tasting very bit of you that he could. Deftly, he slid in a finger inside and your mouth opened as a small whimper, a pathetic little sound, reached his ears. You could feel him smirking against as you as he ate you out like you were his last meal, like he was a man dying of thirst. He was not shy, he was timid about getting in there and making sure you were experiencing as much pleasure as you could. Whatever he was, and he was a lot, he was a man that knew how to use his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to get you worked up, to get you close to the precipice of your pleasure as you writhed underneath him.

He added another finger, curling it and finding your sweet spot almost instantly as you closed your eyes and his name fell off your lips, a sound of both curses and salvation. Max snaked a hand up your chest as he grabbed one of your breasts and massaged it roughly, his own low moans creating a pleasant vibration against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your legs started to shake lightly around him as he brought you so close, that you saw nothing but haze. He pulled back for a moment, just before you could find your release and watched you with a smirk as you shot up and glared at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “Maxwell!”

“Hmm?” he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over your clit and you almost jumped, “are you doing to cum for me? Just like you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You’re such a bastard,” you sighed at him, but then, in a snap he was back on you, earning a small yelp of surprise from you, “fuck.”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice so gentle and almost...sweet, but you knew exactly how he was. This was just a little taste of bliss before he got what he wanted from you. Not that he wasn’t enjoying this as much as you; no, Maxwell Lord loved the feeling of eating a woman and feeling her squirm under him. It was just that very few women ever got the privilege of experiencing such a feat as he was picky as ever when it came to his partners. You managed to make some sort of sound in acquiescence as you came completely undone under him

A slew of curses left your lips as he working you through your orgasm, not stopping until you all but went limp under him and he made sure to lap up every last little bit of your juices, like it was the sweetest honey he had ever tasted. Only once he was thoroughly satiated did he stand up to his full height and stand over you, studying you intently.

He grabbed your hips and pulled towards him, admiring the blissed out expression on your face. Tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, you leaned into touch, just wanted more of him. Just before he kissed you again, he whispered, “you taste even finer than the most expensive champagne.”

“Better than Dom Pérignon?” you teased as you pulled him back towards your lips, kissing him with more fervent passion as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You could taste yourself on him and that was enough to get you worked up again; the way he had made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

“Better than the most expensive bottle of Dom Pérignon in the world,” he promised in between kisses. Growing impatient, you reached for the waistband of his pants and started to pull them down, feeling the straining in his pants. Your previous efforts had long worn off and you could tell he was growing needier, ready for more, “perhaps tonight we can go to dinner and I compare.”

“Hmm,” you mused quietly, “that sounds lovely, but I’ll have you know, Mr. Lord, that I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“Oh?” he caught your hands easily and pinned them above your head, holding them tightly together, so you couldn’t move, “then what do you call then this?”

“This?” you were practically purring at him, driving him crazier by the second, “it’s just a causal business meeting.To see if you can earn that first date.”

He made a sound, practically growled, as he pulled you off of his desk, before turning you around and bending you over the desk so you were face down on it. The wood was slick and cool under your body, but you could feel his heat radiating onto you as he stood behind you, his large hands massaging the tender skin of your bum.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” you could hear the mixture of admiration and annoyance in his voice. That was enough to have you practically dipping again as he you could hear him tugging down his pants and briefs before hastily kicking them to the side. He loved the game, you knew he did, but he was getting impatient and wanted his prize - you.

“I don’t know anything about that,” you lied, wiggling your bum closer to him so he’d finally take the hint and give you what you needed. Gods, you were going to be the death of him, he was positive of it. He spread your legs apart and reached up to touch your still sensitive core, and gathered some of your slickness on his fingers, “don’t tease.”

“Don’t be such a brat,” his hand firmly came down on your bum, the sound and feeling of his hands bringing up a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper as he realized that you liked it. And you did, you really did enjoy the sting of his ring clad hand coming down on sensitive skin of your backside. It was...definitely not lost on him as he repeated a few more times to see what pretty sounds he could draw out from your lips as your skin grew more and more red, “do you like getting punished? I can see you do...you’re so wet, just from that.”

“Please,” you turned to look back at him, “need you inside me.”

That seemed to break him and he quickly decided that he needed you just as much. He was surprised that he was able to hold back this long. He took his hard cock and coated it in your slick before slowly pushing in, a low moan in his throat as he relished in how perfectly you felt around him. It was even better than he had imagined. Your mouth was agape as he pushed in and you reached behind you, trying to find him, to ground yourself and find purchase in something.

A quiet fuck escaped his lips as he fully burrowed himself in you, stretching you in the most delicious ways. He stilled for a few moments before finding your hips and holding onto them so tightly that you were sure there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. But you didn’t care, you didn’t care about anything but him and the moment you were lost in.

But before you could get too comfortable, he began to thrust mercilessly into you, his primal instinct taking over as you laid there, fully at his disposal. He didn’t falter, keeping a brutal pace as he slammed into you, a few curses and moans spilling forth, but the only sound in the room was the sound of his skin on ours. You wondered momentarily what anyone passing by would be thinking, but you didn’t care. Let them know. Let them know that Maxwell Lord was having you over his desk and making you feel better than anyone ever had before.

You quickly became a moaning, whimpering mess under him, reaching back and grabbing one of his hands, bringing to your breast, silently begging him for more. He fucked you like it was his only mission in life, like everything depended on it; you weren’t even sure how he had that much stamina.

Once you felt his cock start to twitch inside you, he grabbed your arms and pulled you against his chest, so your body was flush with his. One arm was draped around your chest, harshly groping at your breasts, and the way reached down and he gently circled your sensitive nub. The combined sensation of the light touch and him filling you up was enough to have you shaking, barely able to stand if it hadn’t been for him holding you up. Your release was close and turned your head to kiss him, letting your lips hit whatever bit of salty, sweaty skin you could find.

“Max,” was all that you managed as you felt your knees start to buckle under you, but he kept you firmly in his grip. His breathing was ragged and he was groaning and grunting openly, clearly as close as you were. His pace stuttered for just a moment before he gave you a few more deep thrusts and spilled into you, coating your walls with his hot seed. You were at a loss for words as your walls clenched around him and you found your second release.

But his hand never left your clit, his ministrations pulling everything and then some from you as you gripped the desk tightly. He was thoroughly enjoying watching you shake and whimper as he tried to get everything out of you that he could. He was still inside of you and you were at your breaking point, a few tears running down your cheeks from how overstimulated you were. You reached for his hand and tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t budge a moment, until your soft little mewl of, “please, please. It’s too much,” reached his ears.

He slowly removed his hand and you let you lay on his desk, trying desperately to catch your breath. Max ran his fingers down your back, stopping at your supple backside and gently massaging the red, tender skin. He was surprisingly docile for a man that had just been mercilessly fucking the life out of you.

“Who knew all it would take was a good fuck to get you to be quiet?” there was a teasing quality to his voice, almost playful, but you still managed to stick up your middle finger and flip him off. He gave a short bark of laughter before slowly pulling out of you, and you sighed lightly at the now empty feeling. You could slowly feel some of his sticky cum slowly start dripping down your leg as he kept you under his gaze, “you really are exquisite, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told that a few times before,” you slowly managed to push yourself up and positioned yourself so you sitting on his desk facing his chair. He sank down into it and put his hands on your knees, keeping your legs apart as he watched your combined wetness and his cum slowly dribble out, “admiring your own handiwork?”

“Admiring the art,” he insisted as he leaned back in his chair. His hair was a mess, the most disheveled than you had ever seen him, but he was clearly basking in the afterglow. You reached down and gathered some of the cum on your fingers before bringing them to your mouth and cleaning them off, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I don’t think if it’s as fine as some good champagne,” you taunted, “but it’s not bad.”

“Such a little brat,” he let out a short breath of laughter, running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it.

“Don’t act like you don’t it, sir,” you grabbed his arm and pulled it away from his hair, “leave it. I like the sex hair. It suits you. Maybe you should let loose a little more often.”

“An interesting proposition,” he took your hand and slowly tugged you closer to him, so you were barely perched on the edge of the desk, “care to help?”

“Hmm,” you let your feet hit the floor with a soft thud as you stood in front of him, both of you still in your naked glory, “I don’t know. Stuffy suits are not usually my type.”

“What is your type?” his hands were on your hips, fingers tracing shapes over the area where small blue and purple marks were already welling up. He pulled you closer to him and before you knew what you were doing, before you could consciously consider your actions, you were straddling his lap and sinking back down on his already cock, which was already hard again. You really did have a hold over him.

“Just one stuffy suit,” you admitted, letting out a soft mewl as your hands found their grip on his broad shoulders, “he’s an asshole, kind of a jerk, shamelessly stares at my tits, wears suits from last season, but for some reason he’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

“He doesn’t sound so bad then,” he pulled you against his chest as he slowly thrust into you, his lips finding ours as he kissed you lightly, “if he’s earned your affections.”

“Either that,” you practically moaned into his mouth as you fisted a hand in his hair, bringing his head down to your chest, “or I have horrible taste in men.”

“And yet here you are,” he massaged one breast with his large hand, using his mouth on the other as you moved up yourself up and down on his cock, “in my lap with my cock buried inside of you.”

“You are definitely taking me to dinner after this,” you gasped slightly he bit at your pert nipple. He slid his hands up your sides before bringing them to rest on either of your face. He seemed to study you for a few minutes before brushing your hair back and pulling in for you a kiss. This was so different from how merciless he was earlier, a welcome change of softness, “champagne and all.”

“You’ll get the finest champagne money can buy,” he promised as you sighed contently. Before he could totally melt into his soft side, he gripped your throat and pressed lightly on your marked up skin, “now tell me, little brat, who do you belong to?”

“You,” you breathed into his ear, “I’m yours, Maxwell.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord #max lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ww84 #ww84 fanfiction #honey & velvet

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years ago

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Himmeløyne [22/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: I have started my first original gothic story (it'll be much darker than this fic but can I offer you werewolves, vampires, 1970s Europe aesthetic as an incentive?). It's on Wattpad and I intend to update it every Wednesday, but I never stick to update schedules so... Here ya go: OUR LADY OF DARKNESS

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The end of the abyss—that frightful stream of continuous fall and forceful uplift—it finally had an end. It was a large door. Smell of rain and storms, with the slick glisten of wet rock hugging the archway. A dark type of stone, jagged and natural, the door seemed to be carved into the side of a mountain. But the mirage ended where the rock began, there were no walls. No infrastructure. Just the green of the mirror world and two hunkering doors. The archway was carved in the shape of a snake; same as the kind that embellished the rigging of ships, tongue curled, eyes made of rings within rings.

A sequence of lettering—foreign, yet oh, so familiar—hovered in the mist, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words.

“Oracle, what is this place?”

The whisper was quiet, for a brief moment you worried that you were truly on your own in this stretch of emptiness.

I sense… something has been concealed from me. Its magic is fevered, dusted in loss. Pain. Desire. It is out of place. Out of time. The conjurer’s magic has the same energy as yours, only… stronger.

“Stronger?” You shuddered at the thought. After a pause, you asked: “You don’t see the door?”

Door? What door?

“What of the letters?”

I—No, I see nothing. Describe it to me.

“There’s a serpent on the door.”

A serpent? Does he eat his tail?

“No, his head marks the start of the archway, but his mouth is facing the ground.”

Then it is incomplete. An incantation must be needed to complete the image. What of the lettering?

“These letters, they’re different than common tongue or Asgardian runes. They aren’t Jotun either. They look… I don’t know. They look so familiar.”

Reach for them.

“What?”

Familiar magic has a tendency to want to be understood, that is why it feels familiar. Touch it.

You stuck your hand up, jumping on your tippy-toes to try and grab the incorporeal words floating above your head. In defiance, they simply rose higher up, further out of reach.

Do not reach with your body, Child of the Sky. Reach with your magic.

With an exhale, you stuck both hands high up in the air, conjuring the bristle of energy that raced across your spine during spellcasting. Remembering through muscle and memory of what it was like to be in control of your magic. Of what it was like to revel in its deliciousness, its wildness, its link to Loki. A swirl of warmth took shelter in your belly, that warmth you’d grown to love before it was ripped from you and replaced by the cold of Odin’s incantation.

Suddenly, the words began to sink, lowering themselves like feathers, at first, then with the heft of an arrow, and finally, a stone.

With a crash, the words burst into fire and embers, each ember digging into your skin in a sensory overload that formed echoes in the mist.

A version of you,—the shade whose voice you heard in the abyss—older, magic glowing a different hue of blue, in strange clothing, stood by the door. You were witnessing the construction of the doorway. Every splinter, fibre, rock and sand particle materialised as though you were undoing the wroth of a sandstorm to make way for a rock giant. A woman, with firebrand hair and soft features, stood beside you, she looked drained, weary. She had magic too, it was the colour of blood. The colour of fire. It flickered in and out around her body, as if fighting to take over.

There was a young boy clasping onto the shade’s hand. Aloof in expression, a scaly growth the colour of white sands on his elbows, ankles, neck and cheeks. He was a beautiful child, hair as soft as down, curls that fluffed in a way you could never get yours too. Eyes of a pure and deep blue. Ocean surface during a thunderstorm blue.

He looked at the shade the same way little Sigrid had when she’d waved her plump, little hand goodbye before following after the hunters. It made you yearn for something so pure with a fierce heart.

“There, that should do it,” the shade said as the door materialised from thin air. “Now, we need a seal so no one who wanders can know of this place.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?” the woman asked, hugging her frame as if she were cold.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the only way I know for certain that what we’re doing now happens.” The shade’s voice felt dark, wizened in years, the same way Frigga spoke of grave matters. “This fortress is the only way he survived in my time. If we can’t change things, as the sorcerer said, then the least we can do is ensure things continue on their set path.”

“He’ll be trapped… for who knows how long? Centuries? Millennia? He’s just a boy.”

“He’s more than that,” the shade got down on one knee to look at the boy. From that angle, you could see the mangled, L shaped scars over each of her shoulder blades. They resembled the scars birds would suffer when their wings were ripped for medicines. “This is the only way he stays safe. I’ve already cemented the other enchantments. Time will not be felt here. He will not feel sadness or regret or the bitterness of solitude. He will sleep, as I once did, except… he will not be aware. And he will dream of only happy things. Then, when the time comes, I will jump. I’ll take him back with me.”

The firebrand woman showed doubt for the first time, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve already done it.” The shade touched the other magic bearer’s shoulder, a comradery there. A closeness built from time and triumph, much like that kindred fire you shared with Sif. “Now, a phrase. A word. Anything to bind this lock to. Something unique.”

“Why don’t you choose it?” “Because I know myself. It has to be something I’d never choose so that she never knows it, and no mind reader can ever guess it should they stumble upon this place.”

“Vision,” the woman’s lips quivered with loss, but there was a bloom of hope in the tweak of her lips as your shade repeated the word.

The biting of the magic ended, and suddenly, you were alone again.

What happened? Child of the Sky? Are you there?

“I’m right here, Oracle,” you choked out, a tightness in your throat.

You were gone. One instant here, the next… nowhere. Somewhere. Between.

“I know how to open the door,” you took several steps back and then cleared your throat. With conviction and authority, you calmly said: “Vision.”

What did the magic reveal to you?

Your head was spinning from the fabrics of this mirror universe being so amateurishly tailored, so lacking in its design and purpose. The more you discovered, the more you began to doubt if this world was ancient; or if it was barely into its adolescence. “I do not quite understand it, yet. You said you were imprisoned here?”

Yes. I have been without body or memory for as long as I can remember.

The snake on the door began to slither till its mouth was at the top, and its tail was tucked firmly in its jaws. Then its eyes glowed the same colour as the child’s, thunderstorm blue. With a groan and a strike of something loud, the door peeled back. Beyond its threshold was a mutation of worlds, all collided in exquisite syzygy; aligned, misaligned, human, Asgardian, Jotun, and even the liquid blackness of space with pepper spots for stars.

“And how long ago was that?”

I—I do not… Centuries? Millennia? Aeons?

To busy your mind of doubt and fear as you stepped past the threshold and heard the door seal shut behind you, you toyed with the idea of understanding more of this world. “You said you could hear the beginning of your name… What was it?”

The whisper grew soft, warm. It sounded like ‘see’. Or was it the sea? Sea? Sea. Sea!

A garden shifted into the plane, then with a breath, a lake, then a cave, then a temple, then a waterfall, then a tower made of metal and glass. The world wasn’t fixed to a temporal setting, nor a specific location in space. It was like watching fire tell a story; brief, bright and constant.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

At the epicentre, laying on a stone tablet with a curtain of gold—that same curtain from the healing chamber—wrapped around like a fleece, was the child. Unaged. Beautiful. Asleep. He had no scaly growths like in the visions.

You took your steps with trepidation. Almost afraid to make a whisper even though the Oracle chanted ‘Sea!’ over and over. Its voice morphing into the very faint intones of a voice you knew all too well.

The world began to peel away the closer you got to the child. A presence was syphoning the magic, transmuting it for another purpose. A purpose that you now realised was meant to happen. Soon, a figure of pure light, with large wings of utmost magnificence, formed from the siphoned magics of the world. The Oracle was gaining form. The fleece turned grey and the boy began to stir. The magic of the sleep spell was broken.

You approached him slowly. Hands seeking out his aura. Then, in the most silver of voices you’d ever heard, he said, “You came. You said you’d come.” A smile of familiarity adorned his freckled laugh lines.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“Do you know me?”

He nodded.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“How?”

“From now.”

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“What’s your name?”

He seemed confused. Reeling back from the line you’d cast him for with that question. Bait in hook, he fished in the muddy waters that were your consciousness. You could feel his magic, abrasive as sand between toes, cool and wet, but also warm and sea-salt thick. He replied, “You haven’t given it to me yet. But you will return hers to her.”

He pointed to the Oracle’s figure, pulsating into a more corporeal form. The boy opened his hand and you knew instantly what he needed you to do before you thought to ask. A reflex. His magic extended to yours, carrying thought, and the very genesis of thought in its energy. You placed your face close so his hand could cover the cavity where your eye used to be.

Sugar. Berries picked from the wild thickets. A prick into padded thumb. Ooze of blood. A slight sting, then a scab and finally nothing, no marks, no evidence of the thorn in your thumb. He was projecting images of what he envisioned as he healed you. What the berries would taste like; apples. “You can open your eyes now. It was gold when we met. I kept it the same.”

Feeling no different than before, you opened both eyes for the first time since you stepped into Verdenspeil. With a tickle, the runes drawn on your hand and forehead sloughed off like skin cells. You could see the world without them. You could see through both eyes again. The shifting world shifted to a hexagon of mirrors. One, the sky shifting blue of your mother, the other, the ancient, world piercing gold of your father, your face held two eyes again.

“It’s… beautiful,” you looked down at the boy with your eyes. He showed teeth with his grin, pleased with himself. Pleased with your laugh of awe. “There was a boy in my village. Half as beautiful as you are. Half as joyful, with a smile and constellations marking his nose and cheeks too. He showed me kindness. His name was Baldrick. I shall call you Baldrick.”

“Now that you have spoken my name, remind her of who she is,” the boy said, glancing at the Oracle. “You know. You know but cannot believe.”

A gasp left your mouth. A mix of hope and disbelief. With the new eye, you could see the face of the Oracle beneath the light, beneath the enchantment that kept her hidden.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“S-Sigrid.”

The Oracle hushed before exploding into a million, tiny pieces of energy. Out of the explosion was your mother, winged as the Valkyrie from legend, wearing the armour you had seen in the mirror prior to entering Verdenspeil.

“Y/N,” she said, lowering to the ground. Her hand cupped your face. You could barely feel her. “I have waited so long for this moment.”

“Mother,” you hugged her close.

A swirl of black formed once the mirrors of the world broke. Sigrid looked at you with panic.

“Listen, there isn’t time. Take the boy, “Sigrid removed a bracelet and cast it into the black-hole. A portal began to form, leading to what looked like a stone temple. “Take him and jump, it’ll lead you to the one with answers.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t you come with us? How are you alive?”

“I’m not alive dear, sweet child. But I can promise this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. We will meet again, soon. I promise. But you must go, the world has fulfilled its purpose. There is no reason for it to exist anymore. It has already began to unravel.”

The mist began to turn sour, choking like poison.

You coughed, breathing through your sleeve, “But, as the Oracle, you said I had to take you to the source.”

“You are the source. You and the boy. Your magics are entangled. The maze was a lie, one devised by you. This world isn’t ancient, it is young. A deception. I am the deceiver. My purpose was to ensure none but you found the boy and the portal to Mímir’s tomb. You enchanted this world so all would walk along the lighted paths until they reached a portal that would return them to a random space within the nine realms. You enchanted this world with your memories, so only you could follow them. Hear them.” Sigrid handed you a four-pronged dagger, “Take this you’ll need it.” She kissed your cheek, then her form started unravelling with the world too. Through transference, she gave you her armour, it was lighter than you'd expected, and it fit to cover your proportions through magical effect.

“Why can’t you come with us?” you reached your hand out to Baldrick. He took it with ease.

“I am not meant for the lands of the living,” she lamented. “Go! Before the world takes you with it.”

You rushed to the portal, but before you could step through you asked one last question: “What did you mean by ‘sins of the father’?”

“The war,” Sigrid fluttered her wings to hover in the green mist. “It was a lie. The Jotuns, they didn’t start it. We—the Himmel Kvinner—there’s a reason why only the women in our family inherited the gift. It’s not just power. It’s essence. A woman’s essence. Odin didn’t know we would develop magic from the artefact, but none of us were able to understand the complexity of her spell. Until you. You will discover the reason behind it all. You told me you did. I suspect it is because you are not fully mortal." Bitterly, she added as her body turned to mist as well, "You will bring the heavens to its knees. And your fate is that none shall remember it.”

One of Sigrid’s wings dissipated, she faltered in the air, then shouted: “Go!”

“I love you,” you whispered before hurtling through the undulating expanse of the portal.

“I know…” you heard her whisper back as Verdenspeil was destroyed.

#loki #loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson #tom hiddleston #himmeløyne #norse mythology #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel imagine #loki imagine #tom hiddlestone imagine

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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Tea for Two - Deleted Scene (3)

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: I was cleaning up my writing archive and found some deleted scenes from Tea for Two. I deleted this one since I felt the fic was getting too lengthy. Also, my fingers itched to totally fix/rewrite this scene, as my writing has changed quite a bit since I started some 6 months ago. BUT, it would not fit the whole fic as it was initially written, so I decided to contain myself 😌(no hating on how I started off this writing hobby, but it’s mostly just fun to see how I have evolved over the past months!)

Scene: I’m hearing wedding bells!

Word count: 2.874

Disclaimer: fluffy Henry stuff

It was time!

We all looked eagerly at the clock. I could feel their gazes starting to burn into me. I shook out some nerves, then nodded, getting up, smiling giddily. The team did some final touch-ups - not really necessary, but still sweet. I felt like a princess while we moved towards the gardens outside. The guests had all lined up all the way from the castle door to the garden, slowly adding on to my group. We walked through the small archway in the old stone wall and there I found our dads, who held out their arms. We walked up the small path to the small grass field in the midst of all the gorgeous plants and flowers. And then I saw him, standing there with the rest of our family, friends. They all stood behind him, cheering and laughing. A swinging ceremonial master sang a jazzy tune while our groups slowly melded into one.

Not that I would know. All I could see was Henry. All I wanted was him.

He looked dashing in his sleek tux, his hair combed back and chin freshly shaven. We smiled at each other stupidly as the ceremonial master stretched out his arms to bring us together, interlacing our right hands. My greens looked into his blues, warm tingles sparking in my growing belly. He looked at me proudly, slightly emotional, a broadest of smiles playing on his lips. We did not speak, as was tradition.

The ceremony was started with another song and the audience gladly followed, singing in glee, the late afternoon french sun warming our skins.

I could feel bodies moving away from us a bit. I looked away from Henry for a moment. The circle had widened, everyone keeping about a meter distance. The song died down as the ceremonial master stepped forward, cupping our right hands in his large dark skinned palms. We looked at him. ‘Dearest of people.’ He looked around, at all people around us, behind him, everyone.

‘We are gathered here today for a very special day. For today we are binding in holy matrimony two beautiful spirits. I wish to introduce to you. Our sweet Lisa. Whom is…’ He looked at me. The audience started to fill in from all around us. ‘The best cook!’ ‘And massages like heck.’- I blushed - ‘Telling stories!’ Henry’s nephew. ‘The sweetest granddaughter.’ My grandmother said in bumpy english. I looked at her endeared. ‘Very much beloved then!’ The master winked at me.

‘And our dear Henry..’ He gave a look at Henry, their eyes meeting, understanding. ‘SUPERMAN!!’ One of his nephews blurted out, jumping up and down in excitement. Henry smiled at him over his shoulder, winking. ‘A gentleman from the moment he could walk!’ His mother exclaimed proudly. ‘The hardest working man I know.’ Jason Momoa stepped in. The two men nodded at each other in acknowledgement. ‘And the most caring lover.’ I whispered, our eyes meeting once again. The ceremony leader tapped our hands, giving me a cheeky look.

No talking, got it. I snickered. We looked at each other again.

‘With mother nature giving her blessing to us today. What GOOD weather, mm!’ The MC threw his face in the sun, smiling happily. ‘I would like to ask for your blessing too. To any who oppose this marriage. Now is your time to speak, or forever be silent!’ His voice had a joyful sense of soul in it. Everyone was quiet. ‘So it is then, I may say…bless you!’ He said. Everyone followed in unison.

‘Bless you! Bless you!’ We laughed at each other, feeling the warmth and love, looking around at our family, giving them thankful looks. The ceremonial master removed his warm hands from ours, pulling out a series of cords from the crowd. He held one up.

‘This rope, represents the past. For you accept each others pasts and love each other for those experiences that made you who you now are.’ He looked at us both in question.

‘I do accept.’ - ‘I do accept.’ We said.

He laid the rope over our joined hands.

‘This rope, represents the here and now. In it is wefted the names of all who are present here today. I thank you for sharing this moment with us. May you, forever be bound in this memory.’

‘We do!’ Some exclaimed.

The Bab laid the rope over our hands as well. I felt a heaviness come over me. This was happening. This was happening. Oh my. I kept looking at Henry. His eyes equally emotional, tears glistening in the corners.

‘This rope, represents the future. For all things yet to come. Be they sad. Be they happy. You will share these moments, carry each other through when times are tough. And make love! Love!’ We both snickered at the MC. The rope was laid over our hands and the knot tied.

‘With this knot, I tie your lives together. May you live prosperous lives. May your love soar!’ The knot was pulled tighter. ‘I wish to introduce to you. Mr and Misses Cavill!’ The cheering swelled up. ‘Kiss your beautiful bride!!!’ The MC applauded, gesturing at Henry.

And Henry did not waste a second. With his left hand he grasped our joined hands, his lips melting into mine. A long kiss, which I eventually broke. I giggled gleefully, seeing the sparkle in his eyes, a stray tear running over his cheek.

Our families cheered and cheered as we just stupidly smiled at each other for a moment. ‘Mrs Cavill.’ Henry whispered, so very softly only I could hear, as he laid his lips on mine once more.

Not long after our grandparents moved into the open circle, being the first to congratulate us. Like that, everyone passed us, couple by couple, family by family. Our hands joined, it took some smart manoeuvring to receive kisses. For his smaller nieces and nephews we squatted down. They kissed our faces with fervour. ‘YAAAY’ One of the youngest girls giggled happily, wrapping her chubby arms around my neck.

As people had all congratulated us they were escorted to the dinner table, leaving us behind with the ceremony master. For a moment in private, he spoke of the ceremony, asking us how we were feeling. I really enjoyed this process. With normal weddings it was all rush-rush, keeping the family entertained, conforming. This was much more relaxed, personal. We giggled while the MC carefully unwrapped our hands, so we could take out our hands without undoing the knot. He took the rope, pulling the knot as tight as possible.

‘My mom had this one placed under the mattress for good fertility. But I understand I may already congratulate you on that matter.’ He kissed both my cheeks, nodding at Henry warmly. Henry’s arm instinctively snaked around my waist, a broad smile on his lips. The MC continued; ‘So how are you feeling right now?’ He asked Henry first. ‘Relieved, happy..I honestly have no words. This was the most beautiful thing to happen to me in my life.’ He sighed, looking rather emotional, his nose flaring as he looked at me endearingly - more tears were close to spilling, but they were happy for sure. I folded my arm around him, leaning into him. ‘And you?’ The MC turned towards me. ‘I adored the setting. Though feeling a bit awkward at being so..in the centre of attention. Nevertheless it was good to have everyone so close. It felt personal. And very much like us.’ I looked up at Henry. I felt the arm wrapped around me slowly course towards a cheeky butt grab. I raised an eyebrow. The master of ceremonies chuckled. ‘That is good to hear.’ He said. Henry slipped his left hand over my belly. ‘And I feel blessed to have our little one with us. For him..or her..to be here with us.’

‘As am I. I gladly sacrifice getting drunk on fine French wine for that.’ I snickered. We all laughed. ‘Well, before any DO get drunk, let us move to the small door there. We’re going to officially have your scribbles on some paper to also make this..legally..official.’ He nodded at a door in the small sunroom. I could see our parents already sitting there.

After signing the papers we exchanged ‘rings’. As in, Henry had chosen a black band with small gold in lining, which reminisced the line that would be tattooed on my finger. He drew it once again on my finger. For the last time.

Getting back to the crowd, everyone had settled down at the two long tables. Kal was there too, sitting in between our moms. We had gotten a lovely 5-course dinner cooked for us. And wine. Lots of great french wine. Nobody would ever leave our table hungry. We had not setup table seating, sticking to our regular 2 times switch, as with our other dinner parties. The only rule being that we as hosts, this time being bride and groom, would remain seated where we were. To which I was glad. I couldn’t keep myself from kissing and hugging Henry. Neither did Henry. He even barely touched his wine - he had not been drinking ever since I had gotten pregnant. Very sweet solidarity of him.

We were seated with our parents at first. And after each course some family would get up and tell a funny anecdote. Especially Henry’s mother speaking of how he had, since he had been a young boy, been such a gentleman with the ladies, hit a snare with me. She spoke of how frustrated she was, whenever she saw how difficult it was for him to hold down a relationship, despite his feverous efforts. All his brothers finding lovely partners. But Henry - wasn’t he a catch?! - was just not meeting the right women.

‘And then Henry called me one day. He was in LA - so I was a bit confused. It probably was like 7 in the morning there. And all he could say was; I’ve met her, mom. Apparently his dog Kal had escaped and he had met this woman who had captured Kal. I wasn’t sure whether to warn him or let it be. But some months later I met her and I couldn’t help but realise that it was true. These two are like bread and butter. So easy going and natural around each other…’ I eyed Henry during his mother’s speech. ‘You did that?’ I whispered unbelieving. He blushed, mouthing the words ‘I did…’ I looked back at his mother, who was now squeezing her husband’s shoulder. ‘And I know how important it is to have that person near you. To know their thoughts, feelings..all with just a look. And of course suck up with their less admirable features. I don’t know if I could ever agree to see my husband kiss other women for his profession!’ The crowd snickered.

I intervened. ‘It sure made him an excellent kisser.’ I shrugged, winking. We raised glasses. ‘Welcome to the family dearest one!’ I smiled a thank you.

After dinner a camp fire was started, small lights above our heads giving a soft glow over the courtyard. Kids were laying in a corner on some bean bags, a storyteller telling them fun stories about the previous ‘owners’ of this castle - some had already fallen asleep by this point. People were dancing on a makeshift dance floor, others had stuck to the dinner table to chat. I personally was feeling quite drained as the evening progressed. Two months pregnant and I felt like a wet rag. Nevertheless I did not wish to miss a moment. I settled down for a moment with the kids. The storyteller was telling of a mighty dragon slayer - which struck a cord with the kids. ‘You can’t just SLAY dragons. That’s not nice you see.’ One of the clever younglings boasted, sitting up from his bean bag. And so a discussion started between some of the kids and the storyteller whether or not a dragon slayer could be heroic. I sniffled, petting the heads of one of the sleeping girls.

I would become a mom, I thought quietly, looking at her small figure folded up on the beanbag, her cheeks rosy. Even to this point the idea was strange. In a few more weeks we would learn what the baby’s gender would be. But before that I felt there was a lot to figure out. Where would we live? And daycare? Schools? We had some discussion on it already, but completely figuring it out was hard. We mostly asked other celebrities how they managed. Jason and Lisa Momoa were probably most in line with our idea of raising kids. Have a clear homebase and travel from there, but always be home at least 1 day in the week. So no long work trips and thereby having to pass by on some jobs.

Henry’s agent was mostly fussy about the whole thing. Of course it had been ideal; for years he had no family and could just be scheduled super efficiently, with incredibly tiresome traveling schedules. But Henry was also rather glad that this would change. He had gotten to a point in life where there was more to life then working 12-hour days for months on end. He had expressed endlessly how glad he was that he could just go for a walk with me, without having to think of what’s next? What’s next? No. We were just where we were. In the moment.

I looked up. Henry was standing next to the pile of bean bags. He looked at the pile of sleeping children, endeared. Then his eyes traveled to me. I smiled, wrestling my way out of the bean bags. He stepped in, hoisting me up in his arms easily. I giggled as he pulled me closer in his arms, a soft kiss pressed on my lips.

And a soft click. The photographer. I had not really recognised there being a videographer and photographer that much today. They had been perfectly quiet. I looked at Henry.

‘How is my sweet wife? Are you holding up?’

‘Well with you holding me up like this I can manage the whole night!’ I sniffled, looking at him warmly. He snickered in turn. ‘Well if I may do so ask, could I have this..dance?’ He nodded at the dance floor. I belted out a laugh. ‘If you so please dear husband.’ He slowly put me down, taking my hand and walking us to the dance floor. Some 90s hits were playing. We had really not planned any silly first dance or anything. I didn’t want things to feel forced, it just played out as it would.

The guests applauded as we entered the small dancing floor, laughing happily. And before long we intermingled with the other. I ended up in a dance with his father, whom clearly had had some of that fine french wine. His cheeks rosy, continuously chuckling and his eyes twinkling. A cuban song started. ‘What a curious thing you are. Snatching up our son with those green eyes and tall legs.’ He swirled me around, our hands catching again. I looked at him, a soft smile on my face. ‘Even now it is strange to realise this is all so very normal now.’ I waved my hand in front of our faces, looking at the drawn up band on my finger. ‘I’m an old married hag now!’ I sniffled. His dad belted out a laugh, swinging us in a large curve around the dance floor. He was a quite phenomenal dancer. ‘Where’d you learn to dance like this?’ I asked, eyebrow raising.

‘HA! My dear, I have gotten my wife so mad to have five kids with me. I had to bring my A-game.’ He said, changing our directions again. ‘Quite mad indeed.’ I winked, laughing. ‘Honestly though. We have been blessed with five great boys. Men now. Gosh. I’m the only truly old hag here.’ He chuckled, nodding at some of his sons who were also dancing. Such a lovely family indeed.

I was stolen back by Henry. He looked at me, a question on his lips. ‘What did you talk about?’ He asked, semi casual. I tilted my head, laying my arms in his neck. ‘On why your father has such phenomenal dance skill.’ I chuckled, nodding. Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘Let me guess. To woo my mother.’ We both chuckled. ‘Quite so.’ Henry unfolded one of my hands from his neck, kissing my hand. ‘Guess I’ll still need some practice.’ ‘Oh please.’ I chuckled, exasperated, rolling my eyes. ‘Your woo-game is quite on point.’ I smiled, leaning in to kiss him, rubbing my belly. A kiss that became a rather longing, sweet kiss, his hand folding over the hand on my belly, staying interlocked like that as we swayed on the music gently, mostly just being very huggy buggy in each others arms. I leaned into his chest for a moment, humming. He was my rock, my anchor..my husband. And soon the father of this child I was bearing.

It was all still a bit unreal.

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @elinesama

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x oc #tea for two #deleted scene #flufferthefluff #marriagestuff

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mimssides · 4 years ago

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Life on Crow Avenue: Part 6

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___

Most days Janus didn’t care too much about working at the pet store of his nephew. He did not mind the mothers and children who came in and asked questions about rats, hamsters or guineapigs. He did not mind taking care of snakes and feeding them mice.

But sitting in the store on a Sunday, well that was something Janus did not enjoy at all. This stupid rescue thing was all nice and well in theory but the on-call service Virgil wanted to provide every fucking weekend was the bane of his existence.

“I don’t have you come with me every time! So, stop sulking and bring me the broom,” Virgil instructed him.

Janus rolled his eyes and got up to get him the broom he requested. With a badly hidden pout Janus watched Virgil sweep the empty cage. They did not have puppies and kittens here all the time, as they only accepted them from a few select breeders and so the space was often unoccupied. Still, Virgil insisted on keeping it clean in case that they had to take in a cat or dog for a short while, which had been brought to them. Only until they had found the actual owner or found a better place for it to stay.

Janus respected Virgil’s work attitude and philosophy greatly. It was incredible that he had found such a strong and positive outlet of all his nervous energy, considering how long he had been struggling with his anxiety. But then again, Virgil could not do much that would actually disappoint Janus. He was his godfather after all.

As Janus’s thoughts wandered off, he almost missed the ringing of the doorbell. Quick he straightened up and limped over to the door. It wasn’t open as it was a Sunday, but they had put a label next to the doorbell, where it said they could ring for emergencies.

And as Janus opened the door, he quickly realized that this probably was a small emergency. A teenage boy with a wicker basket stood in front of him. Out of the basket there was the sound of loud, a little aggressive meowing and Janus clacked his tongue.

“Virgil? We’ve got a cat!” he called for him and then looked back to the boy. “Hey, sorry, what is your name and how did you come to bring us this cat?”

The boy’s name was Lewis and the cat had walked into the backyard of their apartment complex. He had initially wanted to keep it but after a discussion with his mother decided to bring it here, he explained to Janus, as they walked towards the little room off the side, where Virgil had his makeshift check-up station. The lanky man had set the basket on the table and asked for Janus to close the door, so the cat could not run out of the room.

Lewis curiously looked how Virgil then opened the basket and let the cat jump out of it. Quick Virgil had gripped it by the back of its neck and made a few shushing sounds, before the cat miraculously calmed down and he checked it for any injuries whatsoever. Fascinated Lewis watched the gentle but swift motions of Virgil’s hands as he checked it and looked up to Janus in curiosity.

“He’s good with animals. That’s why he wanted us to do this,” Janus answered the unasked question with smile and let Virgil do his job as he kept the boy off his back.

After a few minutes Virgil then turned and looked down to Lewis.

“So, this little cat here was lucky! He’s uninjured and looks pretty healthy,” he explained as he scratched the cat behind the ear and waved Lewis to come a little closer. “He’s well fed and I found a chip. I’ll check now if we can read the data and find the owner like that. And then we can get him back to his home.”

Lewis watched him with big eyes and bit his lips.

“And if you cannot find them? Could I have the cat?”

Virgil exchanged a look with Janus and the older man huffed and put his hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Look,” Janus said and pulled him softly back to the door, “if the cat belongs to someone, we can’t do anything but return it.”

“But what if I want it more?”

Janus sighed and squeezed his shoulder.

“Doesn’t go like this, boy. If you had a cat and it would get lost, how would you feel if somebody else would just keep it? We can’t do that, can we?”

Lewis looked to the floor, pouted and said: “No, we can’t. I get that.”

“Good,” Janus said and pulled his hand away, waiting for Lewis to look up. “But between us; if they suck or if we can’t find them, we’ll bring him back to you, okay?”

Immediately Lewis’s eyes lit up and he nodded excitedly at Janus, who felt Virgil glare at the back of his head. Quickly, he then led Lewis out of the room to let Virgil do scan and asked Lewis to give him his mail so he could contact and inform him what had happened with the cat.

“Can I come by tomorrow and ask how things are, if I don’t hear from you?” he asked and Janus chuckled.

With a grin Janus walked away from behind the counter, opened the door for Lewis and said: “You’re welcome to do so. Even if you were to hear from us. Maybe we could check out together what kind of cat would fit for your living situation if this one isn’t going to be yours, what do you think?”

The look Lewis gave him almost made up for Janus having to sit out the whole Sunday and he wished the teen a good afternoon as he left. With a sigh he made his way back to the little room. He knocked on the door frame and waited for Virgil to turn around. Eventually Virgil turned around and Janus got to see his frown.

“What’s the news?” Janus asked looking at the cat chilling in Virgil’s arms.

Virgil scratched the cat’s belly and answered: “I could read the chip, but I did a check of the address, because there was no phone number or mail on it, and it seems like they moved out? And I can’t find them anywhere? So, I don’t know what’s next?”

“Do you find the number or mail of neighbours of them? They might know where they went and could tell us. That’s the only thing I can think of right off the bat, at least,” Janus offered and Virgil started googling.

___

An hour later the duo stood with a cat in a transport box in front of Logan’s door and rang his bell.

Why that was? Well, they had managed to contact neighbours of the old cat owners and they had been able to tell them where they lived now. Which was great. But, of course there was a but, they had also informed them that the couple apparently only spoke broken English and otherwise talked in an East European language. Which led to the following conversation:

“Wait, isn’t Logan like part East European?”

“His surname is Fojtík if I recall correctly, so that could be possible. Didn’t he say he knows a little … Polish and Croatian?”

“I think it’s Czech not Croatian but I don’t know if that’s what we’ll need…”

“Well, it’s the best shot we have, storm could. Let’s go over to the bookworm and ask him if he might want to help us.”

And so, they stood there and waited for Logan to open the door. And as Logan opened the door, Janus was quick to explain their situation and when he ended Logan looked more than unimpressed.

“Do you know how broad the term “East Europe” is? And my knowledge of Polish and Czech is quite limited as I am self-taught and have almost no talking experience. I doubt I would be any help,” Logan said and pushed his glasses up with his middle and ring finger.

Janus rolled his eyes and wanted to argue, as he suddenly a voice from indoors perked up and said in his stead: “Come on, Lo! At the very least you know more than they do, and it’s for the well-being of this cat!”

And those words were followed by Patton walking up to Logan, former wearing a white tank top, black jogging shorts, white socks and a pair of pink slippers. Janus eyed him curiously, watched how he put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and how the small man visibly stiffened and looked up to him with slight annoyance in his face. But somehow there was no edge to Logan’s look and Janus was sure to keep that little interaction in mind together with the other little clues the two had left him over the years.

“I suppose you have a point. But why exactly do you need to do this today?” Logan asked and turned his attention back to Janus.

Janus nudged his nephew in the arm and said with a chuckle: “Because he dislikes keeping the animals away from their homes for too long. Also, his owners’ place is only like forty minutes away.”

“Oh,” Logan said and nodded.

He then looked back over his shoulder to Patton and the man grinned at him with a pledge in his eyes. Logan moaned and walked back inside while murmuring: “Fine! But you’ll help me put in the sign when I come back.”

“If you give me the keys, I can move it inside while you’re away, Logi. It’s no bother at all!” Patton said and looked inside the apartment while Janus exchanged a look with Virgil who just shook his head at the romantic foolery.

After a minute Logan was back, ready with his satchel and a light jacket and said goodbye to Patton, who said he’d order dinner for them if he told him in time when they’d come back. Quick the three walked down and headed towards Virgil’s car. At once Virgil stopped and both men halted and looked at him.

“I want to look after the cat while we’re driving,” Virgil stated unprompted.

“And?” Janus asked and made a light motion with his hand.

“Who’s driving then? Lo cannot drive, I won’t let you drive and I want to look after the cat.”

“Oh my god,” Logan moaned and Janus facepalmed.

Of course, this would be a problem, Janus thought and was about to explain to Virgil that for once in his life he might have to let him handle the cat, when he looked up and saw a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We could ask your boyfriend to drive,” Virgil proposed smugly and Janus gasped theatrically.

“He is not my boyfriend! And we will not bother him with such trivial matters!”

“But bothering Logan is okay? Sorry, uncle J, we’re not going to compromise on this one. Go and get the flower boy, while I and Lo get into the car. K?”

Janus huffed but eventually went to the brother’s store. He had seen them doing something inside and he hoped it could save himself from climbing anymore stairs for the day.

And Janus was indeed lucky. Roman was just about to walk inside the store when Janus saw him. Roman spotted him around the same time and waved happily. Janus smiled back and walked closer, watching how Roman stood still and waited for him to come closer.

“Good afternoon Mr. Segura Reyes,” Janus greeted him with a grin and Roman chuckled.

“Good afternoon to yourself Mr. Jones! Whatever can I help you with?”

Janus stood still for a moment, watching how Roman turned further towards him and pushed a loose hair strain behind his ear.

“Well, normally I would feel offended that you assume I’d only come to you because I want something, but for once I have a little favour to ask from you.”

“Oh? What is it?” Roman asked curiously and Janus curtly explained what had gone down at the pet store today.

Attentively Roman had listened and said when Janus was finished: “So, you need a driver? I can do that! Just let me get my wallet and say bye to Rem. Then I’m all yours!”

“Really?” Janus said a little surprised by how easy it was to get Roman to do something so ridiculous.

Roman had already started to walk towards the door of the shop and stopped now. With a smile and an amused look, he told Janus: “Don’t be silly! I love to help you guys whenever I can! It’s great around here and I’m happy to do my part!”

And then the florist disappeared in the shop and Janus was left standing there for a few moments. He really liked him. He did. But this kindness and will to give was sometimes almost too much for Janus. It was as if Roman was trying to prove something with it. Not to Janus, not to anybody in particular, but maybe the world itself, which made Janus question what had motivated the man to develop such a stupidly altruistic life philosophy.

“Till later, Rem! I’m back in two hours or so!” Roman’s voice pulled Janus out of his thoughts and he watched the man exit the door, looking back over his shoulder, probably looking at Remus somewhere inside.

“Yeah, goodbye! Take care! Drive save,” Janus heard the response from Roman’s brother and the man nodded happily and closed up on Janus.

___

Roman was a pleasantly good driver and the cat was one of the greatest cats of all; a cat which didn’t meow as if he was dying any second now while driving. The radio was a little turned down and Logan had inquired how Janus’s youngest sister was doing, as he had frequently talked about her.

Lotona, second youngest of the Jones family, had just had her third kid and Janus had visited her last weekend.

“So how many nieces and nephews do you have combined, now? With so many siblings and whatnot,” Roman asked casually.

Janus sat in the front seat next to Roman, Logan and Virgil, rather cramped in the back, and shot a lazy look to Roman. It was fascinating how focused he seemed to be sitting behind this wheel.

“I think, her daughter is the eighteenth?” Janus mused.

“No, she’s the ninetieth. You forgot to count aunt Flora’s boy. He’s been born like half a year ago, I think?” Virgil corrected and Janus sighed.

“That’s a lot of cousins, Virgil. You probably didn’t feel like an only child at all, if you were growing up in such a big household,” Roman said and looked into the rear-view mirror for a second.

Virgil huffed a little and put his fingers through the holes of the transport box. With the hint of a smile he mumbled: “It didn’t. Was kinda nice all things considered. Like, it has its perks to have such a big family. Always someone there to turn to.”

Roman smiled at the answer and nodded a little. Janus observed him closely as he did so. It looked like a happy and content expression and gesture. But there was something a little too stiff, too melancholic in Roman’s eyes as he spoke and Janus had picked up on it. One of these days he would probably have to find out what it was but not anytime soon if he had a say in it. He did not feel comfortable yet to dug up this man’s past life.

“But you seem to be pretty close with Remus too,” Virgil said at once and met eyes with Roman in the rear-view mirror. “He seems to be a rather protective older brother from what I can tell. Was he always like that?”

Roman rolled his eyes and chuckled at that statement. With a lopsided smile he answered: “It’s almost funny how everybody always figures out that he’s twenty minutes older than me just because he sometimes acts like a ridiculous guard dog.”

“Wait. You’re twins?!” Virgil half yelled which made Logan flinch next to him.

Roman only shrugged and kept watching the road.

“Yeah. Identical twins. When we were younger people had no way to tell who’s who. It was fun to mess with people like that. Today, nobody falls for it anymore, but we’re still just as close as we were. Maybe even more so. And I’m very thankful for that. Because it is really nice to have someone you can fall back to no matter what.”

Virgil nodded and then apologized to the cat for yelling, ignoring Logan’s dramatic eye roll. Janus just stared at Roman. Somehow, this statement made him uneasy. It was as if someone had thrown a puzzle in front of him and as he began to put it together, he started to realize that pieces were lacking. Pieces he needed to see the whole picture.

But Janus did not give into the curiosity and instead asked Virgil how long far away from their destination they were. In response Virgil looked onto the route on Google Maps and said about five minutes.

They soon reached the neighbourhood where the apartment should be and after ten minutes found the actual destination they were looking for. After another minute of deliberation, if Virgil had to come with Janus or not, Janus, Virgil and Logan walked towards the house and left Roman standing by the car, so they wouldn’t overwhelm the couple completely.

Lazily, Roman leaned against the car and scrolled through the Instagram account of their shop and then started to play a game on his phone.

It really was a nice afternoon and it had been interesting to learn a little more about Janus and Virgil’s family. He had hoped to hear a little more about Logan but the man apparently was rather secretive with his past. Roman could respect that. Who if not he?

Roman let out a little laugh and stretched his arms. Curious he looked up to the apartment building, wondering if they had found the right cat owner, when he suddenly felt his phone buzzing twice in his hand.

He unlocked the screen.

He had gotten the text.

Blankly he stared at the screen and stumbled against the car. He needed to go home to Remus, he desperately thought.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

For this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@ladysuperheros

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@liv-is-a-fander

@croftersjam15

#sanders sides #florist/tattoo artist au #familial anxceit #roceit #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #mim writes #Life on Crow Avenue #please reblog

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

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That Pathetic Little Neckerchief

It’s been months since you’ve seen Roger, and his stage getup has you raring for your reunion!

Warnings: Roger x f!reader; sub!Roger but with a twist; restraints; gags; teasing; rough sex; pet names (Daddy/kitten). STRICTLY 18+ Notes: This one’s slightly reworked from the BoRhapRogerina days! I hope you enjoy it - and if you do, then please please please give it a share!

By the close of the show, Roger had you gnawing away at your knuckles. From the side of the stage, your eyes were glued to him and only him. Freddie could have worn what he liked, sang whatever. The crowd bestowed enough adoration upon the frontman. But you wanted the drummer, who had cast off his shirt midway through the set, allowing beads of sweat to trail their way over his half-naked torso, stopping at the waistband of a pair of skintight pink trousers. His hair was matted, his skin flushed, and the tiny, white scarf around his neck was drenched. You were tortuously cognisant of the way your eyes protruded as he sauntered off stage, towards you, wearing a smirk so devilish that it felt like he had seen every single lewd thought that swam in your head.

He didn’t drag you into a hug or allow you to congratulate him. Instead, he grabbed your arm, going with the flow of people flooding the corridor at the back of the stage. “We’ll get our own car back to the hotel, Kitten,” he whispered, leaning in so you could hear him over the rabble. The pair of you walked together in silence after that, towards the back of the venue. Crystal, Roger’s assistant, was already waiting at the exit with his bags and a robe, which he draped over Roger’s shoulders like he was a title-winning boxer, triumphantly exiting the ring.

Roger readjusted the robe, dragging it over his head as you emerged from the arena. He was greeted by camera flashes from a gaggle of teenage girls, anxious to get a glimpse of him after the show. However, he had far more pressing matters on his agenda, hauling you towards the Bentley that waited only ten paces ahead.

The door thumped shut, and you were finally alone together, on the freezing leather backseat. A relief, you thought, only now noticing how your body seemed to have been on fire all night.

As the car raced off, Roger grasped at the edges of the robe, adjusting it around his shoulders, and gave a deep sigh.

“You were phenomenal tonight. I’ve missed you so, so much,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a series of kisses across his knuckles.

All he could do was smile at you sweetly and throw his head back, puffing out his cheeks. His voice was ragged when he eventually spoke with a halfhearted laugh. “I missed you too, Kitten...I’m absolutely shattered as well.”

Frustration sliced through the excitement in your gut, making your body slump down in much the same way as Roger’s. You blinked and shot your gaze over to him from the corner of your eye. “So you don’t want to…”

The edges of Roger’s mouth turned up into a smirk as his eyes narrowed, only serving to accentuate how tired he really was after months of touring. “You’ve come all this way,” he began, knitting his fingers together with your own. “It’d be awfully cruel of me to work you into such a state, only to leave you high and dry, wouldn’t it?” he said half-jokingly.

You and Roger burst into the room, arm in arm, and fell together in a heap on the bed. It had been months since you last saw each other and you were overcome with delight, even just to be in his company again. The pair of you lay still, looking up at the ceiling with broad smiles plastered across your faces.

He had changed so much in the time you were apart. Everything from his hair and the way he dressed, down to his demeanour and his body. All of which had you aching to get reacquainted with him.

You turned on to your side, looking him up and down, wondering what patch of skin you would lay claim to first. Would it be his neck, just over the folds of the soggy neckerchief he still donned? Or his sternum, peppered with light, sparse hairs that screamed out for you to curl them around your fingertips? Or the soft, tanned skin that sat atop the waistband of his trousers?

You were sure he noticed you gawking as he hauled himself up on his elbows with a grunt. “I’m gonna go clean myself up, and then we can get started,” Roger murmured.

You quickly tugged his arm, pulling him back down. “I want you now,” you demanded.

“I’m disgusting,” he smiled, “you can join me in the shower if you like?”

Rolling on top of him, you felt a surge of power coursing through your body with the sharpness of thousands of tiny little lightning bolts.

He seemed wholly resigned to what you wanted from him as your hands dragged down his neck, over his chest, eventually coming to rest on his stomach. Your fingertips pressed into the soft flesh, turning it white under your touch.

“I’m gross!” Roger protested. “And exhausted.”

Nevertheless, the feeling of your nails trailing over his skin had him writhing beneath you in no time. And the fact that it still glistened with sweat was of no consequence to you. In fact, you relished the sight of him. And the feeling of him, quivering under every feathery touch.

Roger squealed when your efforts intensified. His arms crossed his body to protect his belly from your onslaught. His smile was so broad and heartfelt that it made the wrinkles around his eyes more visible than ever. He was the picture of sheer delight. “If you’re going to tease me,” he chortled, losing his breath midway through his point.

It caught your attention and ceased your efforts. “If I’m going to tease you… what?” you smirked, running your hand along the waistband of his trousers.

“Do it fucking properly, Kitten,” he spat.

A mischievous laugh swelled inside your chest as you looked up at Roger with a quirked eyebrow. He just lay there, exhausted and yielding, waiting for your next move in the great game you were playing.

You weren’t even sure what your next move was, chewing your lower lip. Being in charge was Roger’s territory. He wore it well. But you? You had to buy yourself more time. Leaning over him, you planted your hands on either side of his head and kissed him squarely on the lips.

He was surprisingly needy, snaking his fingers through your hair to keep you right where he wanted you to be. Deepening the kiss, he sighed as his tongue danced with yours for a fleeting moment.

Suddenly it all clicked into place, and you were having none of this. You weren’t there to make out with him.

After the night you had had, watching Roger on stage, you felt like you deserved something more. Especially since you were certain he knew what his outfit did to you. You withdrew, ghosting your tongue over his lower lip.

A sadistic idea engulfed your mind as Roger’s hands began to roam. In one fluid motion, you grabbed his wrists, pinning them down above his head as you glared down at him. He seemed amused with himself, having broken you into new territory. “I thought you wanted me to do all the work, Daddy? After all, you’re so exhausted,” you taunted. Even though you were raring to devour him, the words still caught in your chest, making it heave in anticipation for the next part of your plan.

Roger’s response was laced with intrigue. Less another question than approval. “I do?”

“Stay put,” you ordered, shuffling off the bed and wandering over to Roger’s bag.

He propped himself up on to his elbows and eyed you eagerly, craning his neck to see what you were doing. You could sense those baby blues fixating on you, and you weren’t even naked yet. “Make yourself useful, Daddy,” you began, rifling through Roger’s luggage. “Take off the rest of your clothes. While you still can. Keep the scarf on though. It’s rather adorable.”

Roger’s mouth dropped open at the ease with which you assumed control. But he wasn’t going to be told twice. He tugged off his trousers and shimmied out of his briefs. And waited.

The silk repeatedly slipped through your grasp. You sought it out through layers of Roger’s clothes, before triumphantly plucking it from the duffel bag. An shimmering, silky, black tie dangled between your fingers as you turned to Roger.

He was sitting upright, shielding his body with his arms. The only garment still on his body was that pathetic little neckerchief. The feeling of being so exposed hit him like a shockwave; he knew exactly what the tie was for, but he couldn’t help posing that idiotic question, simpering away. “What are you gonna do with that, Kitten?” He clasped his hands together in his lap, trying to hide his growing arousal. The realisation was so evident on his face that his eyes bulged when you finally approached.

You crawled from the foot of the bed, over the top of him, pushing him on to his back. “I’m going to do all the work,” you explained, gently taking his wrists. He put up no resistance as you slipped the material around them, binding them together. “You’re just going to lie back, relax…” You trailed off for a second to fasten his wrists to slats in the bed frame. “And enjoy.”

Roger gave his binds a tentative tug, and when he realised he wasn’t going anywhere, his mouth opened to speak. But closed promptly when you cut him off.

“Or rather, I get to enjoy you, Daddy,” you smirked.

You were totally determined to do so, diving down to pepper kisses all over him. You couldn’t care less whether his skin was still sweaty, or whether his hair was tangled; all that mattered was that he was laid out underneath you, ready for the taking. And despite his earlier protests, Roger appeared to be enjoying the sensation of you, nipping away at his skin as his body trembled, and his soft, low moans, became more guttural. “You like that, Daddy?” You asked, looking up at him as your mouth edged lower on him. Your fingertips reverted to that tender spot that elicited the most significant response, prodding him for an answer. Drawing circles on his flesh again, he gave a sharp squeal. His body seemed to fold in on itself, and his smile made you melt. You got back on your knees to straddle him. His cock was hard between your legs, reminding you that you were still fully clothed on top of him. A small barrier in the grand scheme of things, especially as you rolled your hips against him, the friction pulling a frustrated groan from him. You continued teasing, quickly shedding your blouse and your bra.

Roger’s eyes fluttered closed. Watching you only made him struggle against his restraints while you alternated between squeezing at your breasts and gently curling the smattering of hair on his stomach around your fingers. All he could do to offer himself some semblance of relief was to meet the motion of your hips, thrusting upwards.

His desperation only deepened the sadistic streak inside you, making your eyes darken. “I thought I was doing all the work here, Daddy?” You sang, tracing your fingers down his sides.

He was in a sorry state. Precum was smeared across his stomach from your efforts, and his cheeks blushed pink. His eyes were still closed, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to bury his face into the pillow. “Mmmm… want you, Kitten,” he mumbled.

You swore you even heard him whine as you got up off the bed to remove your jeans. You couldn’t resist mocking the way he cried out for you the further away you moved. “Now, now, Daddy. It’d be awfully cruel of me to work you into such a state, only to leave you high and dry, wouldn’t it?”

Hearing the shuffling of your clothes, Roger’s eyes were back on you. Glued to your form. The delicate rise and fall of his chest had quickened as he marvelled at every detail.

Having that ability - that power - over Roger at that moment was intoxicating. Standing at the side of the bed, you skirted your hand from Roger’s neck, all the way down to his cock. He whimpered under your touch, as fleeting as it was. “Do you really want me, Daddy?” you asked, caressing his balls.

“Yes, Kitten,” he sighed, parting his legs for you.

Your hand trailed up his cock, smearing the precum from his tip over his length. Your grasp was painstaking and purposeful, pulling long, but gentle strokes around him. Enough to make his hips roll, but not enough to get him off just yet; that wasn’t the aim. You wanted to ratchet up his desperation. But Roger wasn’t in on the plan. “Go a little bit harder,” Roger hissed, every word wavering.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one doing all the work?” you teased, bending down to him. Roger immediately made a move to kiss you, but you were just out of his limited range. Your hand sped up for a mere moment, enough to pull an excited and hopeful moan from his lips.

You slowed down just as quickly, giving him a chaste kiss. “It doesn’t work if you’re telling me what to do, Daddy. Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp.

“Good,” you said, crawling on top of him again and leaning close to his face. “Now, you’re going to do a little something for me. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Kitten.”

“Do you have any idea what you were doing to me up there tonight, Daddy? In that fucking outfit?” You began, tugging at the scarf around Roger’s neck.

Roger bit his lip as he gazed up at you, taking in every word.

“Now I know you’re tired, but I’m going to need you to put that beautiful mouth of your’s to good use. And if you’re really good, I might reward you” you explained, drawing your thumb over his lower lip. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Yes, Kitten.”

The smirk on your face was wicked as you ran your fingers through Roger’s hair. “Good.” Turning around, you swayed your bottom in front of Roger’s face. Tantalisingly out of reach, you could feel the bed dip as he tried to move closer to no avail. “Like what you see, Daddy?”

“I do, Kitten.”

“Do you want a taste?”

Before Roger could offer you an answer, you brought yourself down on his face, grinding against him. A satisfied groan left his lips, travelling through your body. Pure unadulterated ecstasy raced through you. His tongue gathered your wetness in harsh, eager strokes, parting your folds. He lapped away at you as if he had been starved. Perching upright on Roger’s face, you continued to press yourself into him until he slid his tongue inside you.

He was so adept at fucking you with his tongue that it blindsided you from your plan. It wasn’t until you looked down at Roger’s hips writhing away. You leaned over his body, reaching down to tickle his tummy with one hand. It earned you a series of soft giggles from Roger.

The noises he made reverberated through you, forcing an intense moan from you.

Another self-satisfied chuckle came from Roger as he refocused his efforts, exploring more of you. Large, languid circles traced around your clit. Payback for the way you were hellbent on taunting him earlier. But what Roger didn’t know was that you were prepared to play dirty.

Your fingers skirted over his stomach with renewed fervour, causing him to squirm uncontrollably. He couldn’t move from his position between your legs, though. “Keep fucking going, Daddy,” you scolded as Roger’s giggling vibrated through you, his tongue frantically trying to settle on just one spot. “I want you to make me come, or I won’t give you your reward.”

Roger never needed to be told twice. The tip of his tongue feverishly began to work away at your clit, in spite of you still tickling any bit of skin you could lay your hands on. His giggles, coupling with his own more conscious efforts, made the pressure inside you skyrocket. It squeezed every muscle inside you tighter. Stringing you out. Tearing away any control you had left until your nails clawed at Roger’s skin. Head back. Eyes closed. Heart racing. Wave after wave until you were spent and gasping, thrown forward against Roger’s stomach, trying to suck as much air into your lungs as possible.

You were plucked out of your trance by Roger, clearing his throat, trying to catch your attention. Sitting upright on top of him, you peered over your shoulder to find him red-faced and slightly disgruntled. “I almost forgot you were there, Rogie!”

“Charming! I’ve got a good mind to spank you for that.”

You spun around and unfastened his wrists, your stomach churned in anticipation of what was to come. “I thought you liked it when I’m in charge, Daddy?”

The moment Roger’s hands were free, he swiftly had you pinned beneath him, marking up your neck. “I like you better on your back, Kitten.”

Despite still coming down from your orgasm, the feeling of his cock pressing against your entrance was enticing enough to have you angling your hips in expectation. You knew Roger wouldn’t hold back. Not when you promised him so much, only to make him work for it. He was going to make quick work of you, and you were sure of it. Even though he had been tired, something about you taking charge had given him his second wind, and it made you want him even more. You couldn’t help the tiny, feeble whine that left you as his hand found its way to your neck. “Please,” you begged.

It pinched tighter as his hips snapped into you, causing him to bottom out in one swift motion. The moan he forced from you was utterly unholy, pushing past the pressure on your neck.

“Who’s in charge, Kitten?” Roger teased, giving another sharp thrust.

“You, Daddy.”

Roger smirked. There was no starting slow. No romantic lovemaking. The pace Roger set was fierce as he pressed himself firmly against you. There was nowhere for you to move to. All you could do was cling to him, clawing into his back for dear life. His fingers grasped at handfuls of your hair, tugging it as he fucked you so mercilessly that the bed thumped against the wall. You pitied whoever was in the room next to you. Your moans alone were enough to tell the world exactly what Roger was doing to you, as he expertly struck exactly the right spot inside you, every time he pounded into you. “Is this what you fucking wanted, Kitten?” he snarled. His lips were fixed to your ear, and everything he said seemed to make you tense even more around him. “Was that what that little show of your’s was about? You just wanted to rile me up so I’d fuck you like the little slut that you are. Am I right, Kitten?”

Even though you hung on every word, you were too far gone. Your head was swimming. Too dazed to answer back until Roger grabbed your face, his fingers squeezing into your cheeks. “Fucking answer me,” he demanded.

“You just looked so good tonight, Daddy,” you whimpered, punctuating that admission with another moan. “It’s been so long, and I needed you.”

“God, you’re so fucking needy,” Roger hissed, tugging off his neckerchief and balling it up. “Aren’t you a needy girl?” he cooed.

Before you had the opportunity to answer, he shoved the material into your mouth, stifling whatever it was you tried to choke out.

Then he leaned back on his haunches, picking up your hips as he continued his onslaught, his thrusts growing jagged. That spelt the beginning of another hit of pleasure for you. Shooting straight into your core. You were grateful for the sweaty rag in your mouth, grasping at the sheets and howling out in complete rapture.

The feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock hurled Roger over the edge not long after. He was even more drenched in sweat than when he came off stage, his sharp breaths punctuating every haphazard thrust, right through to the end.

“Please tell me you don’t have any more surprises planned for me,” Roger chuckled, collapsing face down next to you.

It never ceased to amaze you how swiftly Roger could go from viciously fucking you to being in the most jolly mood, even when he was entirely spent. Spitting out Roger’s neckerchief in a moment of disgusted realisation, you giggled at the thought. “I think it’s time you showered.”

Roger groaned, peering at you from over his arm. “Then can we indulge in an x-rated night of spirited cuddling, my love? Because I’m not gonna lie… I kind of missed you.”

You rolled your eyes, diving on top of Roger to nuzzle your face against his neck. “Don’t get all soppy on me now, Rogie.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen #roger taylor smut

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currytums · 5 years ago

Text

Don't worry about what I do

A fluffy ficlet

Lydia rested beside Vergil, cuddled up with her face buried against his neck. Her breath was just a little too warm against his skin for his comfort, but she was dozing in and out of consciousness - not to be disturbed without urgency.

Her eyelids fluttered open when he spoke her name, a not-so-graceful whistle from her nose as she glanced up at him with a smile. Her cheek that rested on the bed scrunched one eye up oddly as she watched his peaceful expression, but she seemed nearly ready to sleep again.

One of her hands already clasped his own matching one, and she brought the other to rest on his side, near his waist. Her eyes closed, but she had a mischievous smile as her hand trailed across his chest briefly, then down his abdomen. Her fingers tickled at something soft and warm, peeking out of his just barely too tight shirt.

He sucked in air, and the beginning of a gut he had developed only recently, so he thought. Even as the muscles contracted, the tips of her nails still grazed the puffy skin ever so slightly and a warm laugh fell from her lips.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Vergil, pulling her tightly against his form to restrict her movements.

It was his own fault. He had started learning to cook, partially to impress her, but somehow he had become a little too fond of his own fare. The often dehydrated and malnourished abs he once sported had melted into a plump little tummy. To his disdain, it made him feel more human, but that was the very reason Lydia loved it so.

"You've been practicing again," she hummed, still sleepy. "Have you always been this comfy?"

He buried his nose in her scalp, enjoying the pleasant scent of silky honey. "You know the answer to that very well."

Lydia's eyes opened again and she cooed just a little. "You're not blaming me, are you?"

His grip relaxed as she curled against him, putting both of her hands on his hips now, where his sides were just a little softer than either of them were used to. "Not blaming, no, but you haven't exactly helped. You're an enabler."

With a delighted twinkle in her eye, she gave him a gentle squeeze. "It's not all bad, is it? You used to be so sharp and bony…"

He didn't care for the way her hands groped at his fleshier sides, and he nudged one hand away. Her freed hand came up to his face to cup his cheek while she looked at him, a loving expression that he felt he was melting under.

"I don't know how Dante does it," he muttered, placing his hand on top of the one on his cheek so that she wouldn't pull it away. "All that pizza and he stays as trim as ever. Don't I stay in practice just as much as he does? Where does it go?"

Lydia giggled, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He had warmed up to the idea of her and only her being allowed to touch him like this. It warmed her from the inside out, knowing how far he had come, from his cold exterior all the way to going so far as to keep her from stopping when she touched him.

"You don't take on as many jobs as he does," she said. Though it wasn't an insult, his competitive nature bristled. "But you have that… teleport thing you do. I won't say it doesn't take a strong core to swing around a sword like the Yamato, but Dante might be a little more mobile than you."

She was pretty sure Dante was just as baffled by that situation, as much of the greasy food as he inhaled, over the years he had bulked up rather than out.

Vergil, on the other hand, who had been eating healthier, probably just didn't account for the extra calories when he started taste testing his own cooking. On the subject of human fare, with which he was barely accustomed, he was starting to form Preferences. Preferences that were making themselves quite known in that ring of chub around his middle.

"Maybe I do need better exercise," he mumbled to himself, tugging his shirt down over his belly. The shirt made it over the lip of that pudge, but it was stuffed in, the line still visible from the underside where it stuck out just a little too far. "Or at least new clothes. Dante will hardly let me live it down if he sees this."

He didn't like to stand out in a way he wasn't comfortable with. Between the two brothers, being "the fat one" wasn't at all appealing.

"Get a bigger shirt," teased Lydia, leaning up to give him a gentle peck on the cheek. "I'm still loving this softer you."

His nose crinkled with repulsion when her hand on his hips moved, swiping her finger along the underside of his bloated middle. "Don't get too used to it. It won't be here for much longer."

Vergil found himself lying on his back, biting his lip with effort as he tried to get his pants button to close. It was so close, how had this happened? His face felt warm from frustration and shame, but at last the button was fastened. Wasn't this his biggest pair of pants? Had it shrunk? The care instructions for leather were very particular, but he had gotten caught in the rain only a week ago.

No, he knew the truth; he couldn't delude himself even at the worst of times.

His pants had been tight the day before, but now it had somehow become impossible. He suspected he was still bloated from the previous night's dinner, being an early riser, but that meant that growing out of this pair wasn't too far ahead of his future, if he couldn't curb himself. His diet was out of control.

He was a picky eater, he'd discovered, with particular tastes. He hated anything that settled too heavily by itself in the pit of his belly, but he had developed a tendency to feed and overfeed whenever he cooked. His skills were improving, taking to the craft surprisingly quickly, and there were rarely leftovers. Lydia appreciated his home cooking, but she enjoyed even more watching seconds and then thirds disappear into his ever growing stomach.

He couldn't quite explain what would come over him when he ate like that, perhaps so used to ignoring any hunger he might have felt (since he technically didn't need to eat for survival) that he didn't know when to quit. Or maybe he was enjoying it. The sensation of fullness hadn't been unknown to him, with old, fuzzy memories of his mother's cooking. Perhaps he'd forgotten what it felt like.

It didn't exactly benefit him to gorge himself so eagerly, though. On Lydia's suggestion, he attempted to rely less on his ability to teleport short distances during combat, but that proved difficult for a few reasons. One being that his personal combat style relied on it more than he realized. The other was that all the extra weight was beginning to slow him down, and he wasn't burning his feasts off as quickly as he was putting them away.

He had replaced his meager wardrobe once already, but he was due again soon, it seemed. His shirts would be alright for a little while longer, but his pants felt much like a second skin, leaving a tantalizing muffin top around his positively stuffed waistband.

Though he only truly felt frustrated, rather than self-conscious, his vanity wouldn't allow him to associate the swollen figure in the mirror with himself. His pudgier hand rested on the thick layer of fat above his waistband, and he sighed. He didn't particularly feel like facing this side of him right now.

At least Dante was kind enough, or smart enough, to keep his mouth shut, but Vergil knew his brother wasn't blind. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I regain my form after throwing away twenty years of my life, only to ruin my figure immediately. This life has been one bad decision after another."

Tired of seeing himself in this state, he flipped a switch and began to change. Scutes and scales covered his body, as horns protruded from his increasingly less human head, becoming something made of teeth and claws and bitter cold. Wings hid most of his form, and a long tail extended from somewhere down his back, snaking uncomfortably in the suddenly smaller room. This form couldn't blink, or he might have been tempted to squeeze his eyes shut before he could get a good look at the damage he'd done to this form as well.

He would admit, he spent less time in this form than his human form, especially lately. Dante had some rather crass words about both of their devil trigger forms, finding them unsightly at the best of times, but at the very least, Vergil enjoyed the sheer power it rewarded him with when he entered that state. He had never really thought of it as being ugly, or even particularly handsome.

Still, things were different than he remembered.

His room was a bit more cramped than he remembered, in this form. Lifting his wings away from his body, he could see that he remained quite heavy-set in this form as well, but he couldn't recall having to stoop to stand in the room without his horns reaching the tall ceiling before. Had he gotten taller to accommodate the extra weight?

His wings ached for the open air, but as large as this form had become, there was no way he was squeezing his girth through the hatch to the roof, and there was little room to open a portal with the Yamato.

The door creaked open, and Lydia walked in. She had gone home the previous evening, but hadn't hesitated to come by first thing in the morning, apparently.

"Whoa," she murmured.

Her eyes followed from his clawed feet to his face as her eyes trailed up his figure. Her expression confirmed his suspicion, and he released a metallic sounding sigh, sitting down on the floor to relax his shoulders.

She shut the door behind her, blinking up at him. "I thought it felt a little cool up here. What's, uh… all this?"

Vergil shrugged, waving one hand flippantly, a somewhat comical gesture from the overgrown demon. "Taking stock, I suppose."

She loosened her scarf as she entered the room further, walking close enough that she was standing right beside him.

The difference in his size was much more staggering with her as a point of reference. She was a little on the short side already, and his devil trigger form was already by no means petite, but he knew how he measured up to her. Easily. Now, in the high-ceilinged room, she looked even smaller.

He lifted his clawed hand, studying the cracked and scaly palms for a moment, before she put her hands on his large one. She was looking at him with a baffled expression, but he couldn't offer much of an explanation.

"Did you, uh… hit a growth spurt?" she asked.

He snorted, turning his head away, but not moving his hand. "It's because of my human form."

"Yeah, I guessed that," she said, fitting one of her hands around his entire thumb. "But hey, looking good."

He decided to transform back, not thrilled with how little he could move in his own room that way. He would at least be able to stretch in his human form, though not too much, or he risked making a spectacle of himself for Lydia. He returned to the form and height she was most familiar with.

She came in closer, delighted, content to cuddle up to his soft sides. She couldn't help herself, wrapping one arm around his belly from behind, burying her face against him. "You look like you have a lot on your mind."

The idea that he could enjoy any part of this experience revolted him, but the hand on his middle was soothing. He didn't push her away, even when her fingers started to tease the taut buttons of his shirt.

"Careful," he warned, aware of exactly how tight those buttons were.

"Relax, I'm not going to mess anything up," she said, nuzzling him with her cheek.

Peering in the mirror, he turned his head from side to side, blinking. He felt heavier than he knew he actually looked, but he was sure his face had plumped up some as well, by this point. He felt himself warming up from embarrassment. His jaw had definitely not been that soft before.

Her hands were becoming a welcome distraction to keep him from dwelling on it, even though it also proved how big he was getting. She moved her hand in wide, deliberate circles across his belly, and he found himself more focused on that motion than anything else he saw in the mirror.

"You really like this body, don't you?" he asked, looking down at her hand. He placed his hand over her arm, and she brought her other arm to wrap around his waist in a warm hug.

Contact like this… it still made Vergil nervous. To be held close in someone's arms, in a human's, no less, was strange. It was a sensation he'd craved for so long… he wouldn't question it, for fear that she'd let go.

"I really do," she hummed, pressing both hands flat against either side of his belly.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he gave a well-meaning sigh, accompanied by a soft smile. "Enough to come visit me before your normal waking hours?"

"I thought we could get some breakfast," she admitted, looking up at him. "I know you don't really need to eat and you've only really been eating to taste your own cooking, but… I just thought it would be fun?"

As she spoke, she squeezed gently with her hands, kneading his doughy middle.

He looked in the mirror again, on a whim, assessing the damage again. His biggest problem was that he wasn't burning enough calories, not the fact that he allowed himself to eat at all, though he had been eating more than his share as well. If his habits didn't change, he would find the measurement of his waistline continuing to climb.

He was reminded of his time as the demon king, gorging himself on the blood of thousands of humans. The high had been dizzying, kept his mind foggy with euphoria while he rooted himself in that heinous tree like a fattened tick. Now he actually resembled one.

But he didn't want to say no to her, either. A weakness. He didn't want to admit be had one, but having something to treasure - and keeping it - was the very reason he had lived the way he had, as misguided as he may have been when he was younger.

"Aren't our choices fairly limited, at this hour?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Lydia trailed her fingertips on him as she pulled away, grinning. "Yeah… but there are a few diners in town. I know this one place, it's a little pricey for the kind of food, but the portions are huge, so it's worth it. If you don't want to risk it…"

She was definitely egging him on, as he suspected. He didn't quite see the appeal of this figure of his, with his less defined features, softer chest, and the red marks that mottled his bare skin because of how portly he had become in such a short time. He didn't see what she saw, he guessed. How could this appeal to her more than when he had been fit? But the way she touched him was more tender than it had ever been before, a surprise to both of them. As long as he could still keep her from harm, he didn't want that to stop.

He turned to face her, stroking the back of his hand down her cheek. "If we leave now, there won't be very much of a crowd."

He didn't want to admit that the reason he didn't want to be observed by any other patrons was because of his struggle to button his pants. If he stuffed himself, he would probably lose the button entirely. If his favorite coat still fit… but he had been unable to button it closed around his corpulent figure for some time, and the sleeves were just a tad too tight to move comfortably in.

"Let us go," he murmured, a fond look in his eyes as he petted her face with his thumb.

If he didn't like the restaurant, he didn't have to finish his food, after all. Perhaps he could take it home…

#currytums #wg #male wg #chub #chubby #fat #mwg #chub kink #this used to be two parts on da but i cant be bothered on here to make two posts tbh

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msruchita · 5 years ago

Text

Who Knew? - Part 1

Summary: It’s been 5 years since the snap, Bucky doesn’t seem to be coming back. Enters a stranger who is a balm to her soul. Will she dare to love again?

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (There’s just a lot of smut, so please, swearing too)

So, I have finally created a proper Marvel fic for the Sinful Secret’s Challenge. My prompt was ‘Do you want something better? Here’s my number.’ from

@howardpotts and also tagging @tranquil--heart and @cametobuyplums

Let me know your feedback and seriously, every like, reblog, comment is appreciated. I always aim to make myself a better writer. So, to stop rattling on, I hope you guys enjoy! Plus, my Taglist is open, but I will stop tagging you if after a few fics; I see no activity from your end

@thesaltyduchess @brazen88brat @lancetuckersmustache

Masterlist

“Enlighten me again, why are we playing Truth or Dare in the middle of a club when we can barely hear each other?!’ Peering intently over your glass at the three people opposite her, you downed the last of your vodka, before choking and gagging on it as everyone around you laughed uproariously. Trying your best to control your own laughter, you set the bottle down as Vesper winked at you before shaking a large silver cocktail mixer.

‘Feeling a little reptilian, in the nastiest way possible? We have you covered with Alligator Sperm! This bright green gator crazy goodness contains melon liqueur, pineapple juice, and yes, a literal splash of cream. Try ordering it at the bar with a straight face like me if you actually have the balls.’ She finished her sales pitch with a poker face as she poured out the lime green liquid into fresh glasses while Shayan held a small pitcher of cream.

It was busy tonight, the crowd seemed to be thrice more than normal, the reek of booze, sweat and desperation spraying everywhere as you shifted on the slightly sticky leather. None of you ever spoke the truth outside of the group therapy sessions Steve forced you to go to. It was like scraping fresh wounds with salt, hence, every time Truth or Dare was played, it was more Shot or Dare. The latest dare being Vesper had to get a hickey from someone she hadn’t slept with yet; the video now safely in your phone courtesy from the bartender who had been necking her barely minutes ago, the fresh purple of the bruise standing out against her olive skin.

‘Crocodile cum, actually.’ Lucien was so matter of fact, everyone collapsed into a fit of giggles again as she waggled her eyebrows at him. The bass of the music thrummed through your veins as all of you relaxed, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter as all of you did shot after shot; most of the dares having already been done before and the novelty had faded.

‘Y/N, you. Flash your tits to the first guy that puts his hands on you or 5 shots.’ Shayan pointed at you, flashing you a grin that was anything but innocent, as you shrugged. Slamming all 5 in a row, you winked at them, waiting for the moment the liqueur went straight to your head; the throng of people gathered beneath the DJ, all looking to escape reality like you, parted like the sea as you slid off the leather vinyl.

The heat was near unbearable, but you didn’t care; the pulse of the music called to you, it was the only time you’ve ever felt so alive, so free. You could feel your blood singing as the humidity clung to you like second skin. The bass vibrated beneath your red heels; anything was better than thinking about what lay outside the walls of the club. At least protected by the four walls, throbbing beats and strobe lights, you didn’t have to face the rubble that Thanos left behind. The pain and suffering of the people lost still pierced deep in hearts; why Steve left you alone after you both lost him. The love of your life and his best friend. Bucky.

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you swirled your hips, rucking up the black camisole top you borrowed from Wanda paired with the skin tight jeans she and Natasha would whistle at every time you stepped out in them, running your hands through your skin, as you let yourself be seduced by the music. The memories of their laughter echoed in your mind as you noted several appreciative glances at your dancing and your body, knowing the glitter oil you used was illuminating your curves just right as you flipped your hair back. You caught a flash of gold, Lucien’s watch glinting for a second, as he gave you a thumbs up, hoisting Shayan up. Nodding once, you blew a kiss to Vesper; knowing your friends were just checking on you before heading out.

Vesper and Lucien understood better than most; your need to stay awake the entire night. Giving you a once-over from the table, they would check that you’re okay before calling it a night. They never stayed long; but they never said no to you either whenever you asked to go out. You continued swaying side to side, giving your hips an extra boost, pushing the memories away; the flash of teeth, crinkle of eyes before steel-blue eyes…

No! You dug nails into your side sharply, the pain chasing away the scent of gun metal, whiskey and mint. It was either dancing till the bouncer called a cab for you, telling you it was time to close up or spending hours waiting silently, staring up at your ceiling fan waiting for the alarm to ring. You always stayed till closing time, helping out to clean the place down, making sure the employees got home safe.

The body that suddenly slotted against you from behind was both familiar yet a stranger. A distant memory of raised scars and a warm, calloused hand, the same hand that now splayed wide against your belly, unyielding yet soft. Leaning against the hard chest, you continued swaying hypnotically and he followed without a second thought. ‘Did you know, there’s a rumour going on,’ you began after a long pause, as his grip tightened on your belly at your facade of casualness, that hint of pain rushing to your head faster than alcohol. ‘That you’re Erik Stevens, T’Challa’s cousin?’

The flex of the muscles under his skin relaxed fractionally, as you wondered what he was so afraid of. Nobody cared about that anymore; too much had happened. He slipped a hand beneath the camisole, up to rest underneath your ribcage, so warm and steady. It pressed just beneath your breast; thumbing slowly at the curve, a whisper, let go for me.

You could kick yourself for the comparison you can’t help but make that he never matches up to. That memory lane was dangerous as you pulled yourself out once again, chasing away the ghost of cold metal against your skin, another rough palm splayed out against your tummy, keeping you grounded against him as you very slowly sunk yourself into the crook of his body.

‘What’s my name?’ Erik asked quietly, his words brushing against the shell of your ear as his hand came up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. ‘What do you know about me?’ He dipped his head further, his tongue snaking out to taste the jasmine on your skin, the other hand slowly tracing out symbols onto your bare flesh, the symbols etched on your skin like he knew, as you struggled not to shudder under his touch.

‘Charismatic genius, MIT graduate with top honors, slight homicidal tendencies and-,’ You cut yourself off, not wanting to do this dance anymore. You sighed indifferently, tired. ‘Why does it matter? One night and I’ll never see you again.’

His hips suddenly pressed flush against you, his cock coming to nestle between your ass, his hand playing with a nipple. A guttural growl of warning reverberates through his chest into you, like you’re treading on thin ice. True dread spiked through you as his posture shifted, shoulder rolled unconsciously back, feet parallel so that the weight is evenly distributed. The stance of a warrior.

His voice was a low timber as you slowly turned to face him, looking up at those piercing brown eyes filled with cold intelligence. ‘No,’ he assured, pulling the nipple away before releasing it, watching it bounce lightly. ‘Not with me. Never with me.’

You looked down to see the markings peeking from the top of his white shirt and the cuffs of his jean jacket. You knew they adorned his entire upper body; earned with every life taken. You should have trembled with fear when you traced one scar, but there was a deeper need to trace your tongue along each one, the way he longed to trace his fingers across every ink you had.

You sighed heavily again, breaking away from his touch as your body screamed for his warmth, hands that promised to show that you would be taken care off, over and over again. You managed to get away enough to reach the bar when Erik grabs your hand and like a movie spins you into his arms, flush against his chest, one hand slapping your ass so fiercely you gasp as he simply sets his lips on yours.

It could have been maybe a minute, but it felt like time suspended itself; everything slowed down before he gazed down at you, the hurt and concern in his eyes surprising. ‘Come with me, please.’ He held his hand out, and you slipped yours in it without thinking.

Your talks lasted the entire night, even after the soft pink and lavender of dawn peeked through, you both kept going. He starts with his beginning. About his father, about Wakanda, how he just wanted what was his by right; but even that had been deceitful. The fight for the throne, how he almost died, meeting the White Wolf. An enigma unlike himself.

Your heart clenched but he held you in his arms, your legs between his body, stroking your back against the silk. He tells you what his cousins were like, unable to hold a grin back at the elegant respect he begrudgingly built between him, T’Challa and M’Baku though the latter would love the chance to break his back. Shuri, for being a prodigy yet so humble, it annoyed him and made him prouder than he could have imagined.

You tell him how you met Bucky when Okoye and Steve forced him to join a yoga class as he wasn’t sleeping, and they had tried everything. Even Shuri was fed up. How it was a riot watching him struggle even though he had the natural agility and flexibility of an Olympian gymnast. Within a week he asked you out, a month later you were his girl, staying with him in STARK Towers, recounting all the incidences when F.R.I.D.A.Y and Tony would team up with Sam to play tricks on you.

He tells you about how Okoye beat him to within an inch of his life for attempting to murder her king and manipulate her lover, W’Kabi. He reluctantly admitted he deserved that as you laughed out loud, missing the way his face lit up at your laugh. His voice breaks slightly as he mentions going for therapy, going deep into the jungles to stop poachers, how he had just finished his probation when he heard the news, watching his men disappear.

A diplomat and the acting king for Wakanda, he came here hoping for some change, just anything to take him away from the ashes that haunted him. You would never admit how the bleakness in his eyes matched the ache in your heart…

You stand offering him a place to crash and a mug of peppermint hot chocolate as the sun filters through. He slowly pulls you into his embrace, arms tightening around you, the need to protect you, covet you so strong he doesn’t realise he’s near tears till his voice comes through ragged and raw.

‘Ya know, I expected something better than hugging the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and getting hot chocolate for baring my soul.’

He stares down at you, a cocky smirk on his face, his eyes shining with unshed tears you wanted to smear with your thumb.

‘You want something better? Here’s my number.’ Scribbling your number on his hand with a ball point pen you found in his jacket, it was like a purse in there. ‘No calls for the next 2-3 days. I don’t put out on the first date.’

Winking at him, you power walked away, heels clacking, telling yourself you wouldn’t look back. Within 2 minutes, you started chuckling, looking at the message from the unknown number flashing on your screen.

‘I’m not waiting 2 days for that ass.’

8 Weeks Later

Your back hit the mattress with a thump, bouncing lightly, giggling as you shifted yourself half upright to see Erik more clearly, the bangles on your wrists clinking softly against each other. His dark eyes glittered in the darkness, the lust stamped on his face hungry as he reached for your ankle, tracing the delicate bone before kneeling on the bed, straddling your knees, holding you down with his weight.

Leaning forward, he kisses his way up the red fabric, the gold accents shining in the moonlight, pausing at your exposed waist. Shifting the material of your sari aside, he took a good look at you, chest heaving against the barely there blouse, your tattoos swirling in intricate patterns around your skin.

Grabbing your wrists, he gently kisses your clenched fists, the metal scarping softly against his lips, smiling at the soft exhale of breath as he pulls you up, deftly untying the strings that held the scraps of lace together, exposing your breasts to him. Pushing you back enough to arch your back, he trails a trail with his tongue over one breast, before pulling the fabric back over your skin, your nipples hard and aching, peeking through the sheer material.

‘Did you enjoy making your King squirm for you? Wrapping me around your little finger, turning me into a jealous clout with just a yard of fabric? Hmm, answer me!’ He slapped you once, the slight sting making you gasp as with another grim smile, he slants his mouth over yours, swallowing the squeak of surprise, his hand tweaking a nipple, the soft scratch of brocade teasing your sensitive skin.

Mewling slightly, you grab his shoulders when he pulls away, trying to pull him down to your lips again, but he shrugs you off, instead kissing a burning trail down your neck, deftly undoing your necklace and draping it on the table beside; over your exposed shoulder before biting down on the firm muscle, his teeth leaving their imprint behind.

Frustrated at Erik’s refusal to kiss you, your hands reach for the lapels of his suit, fumbling to get the buttons undone on his shirt, as he reached to nip at your collarbone, sucking a row of purple bruises along the column, grabbing your hands and pulling them away from his shirt, shaking his head.

‘No baby, not this time. Not after that little stunt you pulled with this outfit…’ His words trail away as he runs a warm possessive hand over your waist, tugging lightly at the thin chain that adorned it, licking his lips slowly as your own heartbeat sped up.

Another useless gala dinner with the world leaders; just another unproductive meeting for them to try and reason with the Avengers. They never showed, leaving everything to you and Erik. The situation had worsened as nobody knew what to do with all the empty infrastructure. You had been sent to mediate lest the situation worsened; you wondered since when did a yoga teacher become a certified consultant.

Slowly climbing up the stairs, making sure your golden high heels didn’t catch along the embroidered fabric, you strode towards the foyer, just as Eric stepped in with Okoye nearly barrelling into the Prime Minister of Canada over, as his eyes never left you. The mere sight of you, a vision of gold and red with slight accents of blue; a true goddess. Okoye merely smiled at you, mouthing how beautiful you looked before her sharp eyes swept around, making sure there was no threat as the Prime Minster ogled at you.

His reaction did not go unnoticed by the Warrior King, his mouth tight at the sight of the sari wrapped around your lithe body, your curves accentuated by the small dips and creases in the fabric, your waist enticing any man for a closer look with a simple gold chain adorning it. His chain, the one he asked you to wear for good luck, now made into an object of desire.

Heads turned, jaws went slack as women hissed softly in envy, the sari blouse so daringly cut, it couldn’t even be called a blouse, it was a bikini top, mere scraps of gold lace held together by strings, cupping your breasts softly.

You strolled towards him, unaware of the seductive spell you wove; an extra swing in your hips, your movements almost cat-like, as you came to stand beside him, claiming your place, his hand sliding down your back possessively…

The rest of the night was a blur of sexual tension, stolen touches and awkward adjustments as he discreetly kept adjusting his dress slacks every time you bent down exposing the tattoo on your chest or when you turned around to showcase another one of your inked designs on your back dipping into your waist. Gritting his teeth, he promised retribution for your teasing, his teeth bright against the warm tones of his skin, a dark glint in his eyes.

Pinning your wrists down over your head, he used the strings of your blouse to tie the bangles together, the metal clinking each time you moved, a warning to not bring them down as he bent down to kiss you, slow and passionate, but still ghosting around deep. He begins his assault on your neck again, this time leaving a trail of stinging, red bites down your chest, around your breasts to bite down on your nipple, bringing your body up to an arch.

Keeping one hand below the bangles holding them down, the other hand strips off the fabric off your body, leaving you topless in the petticoat, your stomach quivering as he runs a finger lazily to trace the angelic runes that adorn the soft skin. Your belly goes taut under his touch, breath heaving as you moan for more. The soft cotton clings to your legs as he reaches down and takes his time pulling up the skirt, kissing every inch of freshly exposed skin. His other hand moves to clasp your hand in his, finger entwining as his lips trail your calf, up your knees, to your inner thighs, your arousal soaked through the cotton. You didn’t wear any underwear.

The dark glint returns as his mouth descends up to focus on your breasts again, kissing the aroused flesh, blowing warm air on each pert nipple, a small frown on your face as he refuses to give it the attention its begging for, instead stroking his hands across your exposed belly, the tattoos shining black under the moonlight from the open window.

Slowly, he tugs the petticoat off you, leaving you completely naked save for the belly chain and the bangles on your wrists. ‘Baby, you went without underwear, that’ll require some punishment…’

He smiles into your skin, finally taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly as a single thick digit slides into your wet, swollen folds, his groan reverberating through you. He chuckles wickedly, as you tighten and moan around him, the other hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing.

You buck your hips against his hand. ‘Erik, please…’

‘Hmm?’ He asks innocently, deliberately adding another finger , raising his head to press a kiss to your lips, his mouth watering to taste your tattoos, taste your sweet pussy, the obscene sounds calling for his tongue. He rubs his lips against yours, nipping the bottom lip and biting it down with a soft pull.

His muscular body pulls you up to him, pressed against you, the scars creating their own friction against his clothes, his cock hard against your mound. The sensation sends warmth and lust in dizzying waves through you, pooling to your lower belly. His fingers curl inside you, rubbing against your sweet spot, before pulling them out completely to suck and lick them.

‘So beautiful, so wicked, so sweet, all for me…’

‘Fucking tease…’

He chuckles again darkly, bending down to kiss you again as you gasp against his mouth as he suddenly thrusts both fingers back inside, the other hand leaves your throat to hold the back of your waist, the chain digging into your skin, keeping you still as he slowly finger fucks you.

‘I’m the tease?’ He continues the slow, torturous pace, enjoying the myriad of emotions running through your face, your mouth slightly open in mid-moan, and you look so pretty he can’t help pull you in to kiss you.

‘Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences about wearing bits of cloth as a blouse and this damn sari, mmm, this sari, will be the bane of my existence, and my solace when I’m away from you. Shouldn’t have worn it to the gala. This should have been just for me.’

‘It was a necessary risk. It’s my job to entertain and mediate the delegates.’ You manage to breathe out, his growl making you jump.

‘Perhaps you were being unwise. You will entertain no man but me.’ The smile that now graces his face has a hint of madness, it’s almost evil. He’s no longer Erik, but Killmonger and you understand immediately what makes him so fearsome to his enemies. Crooking his fingers, he twists them, screw driving you, making you cry out as you nearly collide into him, jerking at the pleasure shooting throughout your entire body.

He lets go, watching you fall back on the sheets, your hands clenching at the duvet, almost ripping it to shreds as your orgasm builds up. You sit up, grasping at his suit, pushing it off his shoulders desperately, hands shaking to unbutton his shirt, exposing his body to you.

Killmonger refuses to give in to you, a wicked smirk on his face, instead moving his fingers with more speed, his knuckles hitting to the hilt every time, biting down on the other nipple harshly as your orgasm rocks you, and he removes his fingers, your walls clenching emptily at nothing, as you whine at the loss of contact, disbelief stamped on your face. He slides backwards of the bed, leaving you feeling cold and frustrated.

Quickly shedding off his clothes, standing completely nude at the foot of the bed, devouring you like a carnivore with his eyes. He grasps your ankle and pulls you to him, hard. You nearly fall off the bed straight into his arms, as he bounces you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist, the scars rubbing against your heated skin, making you bite your lip.

His hands come down to grab and squeeze your ass, slapping them a few times, knowing how much you love the sting, as he crawls back on to the bed, never leaving you and settling down on his knees. His hands trail all over your body, avoiding where you want them the most, pressing sweet open-mouthed kisses against the purple marks. He bites down on the skin on the other side, leaving angry red marks in its place, claiming you as his.

He pushes his finger back into you, adding another two, the three thick digits creating a soft stretch as he scissors them, swallowing your moans with a heated kiss. Your eyes almost roll back when he his hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing tightly, the air suddenly thin. He removes his fingers from you, spanking your ass hard before circling your clit, feather light. You buck your hips against him, but he merely smiles.

‘You look so pretty when you’re so flustered. Such a doll.’ He grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as you suddenly stiffen, feeling the ghost of cold metal in the place of his warm, calloused hand.

‘You’re such a doll to me. I don’t deserve you…’ Brooklyn accent washing over you as you tip toe up to tangle your hands in chocolate brown locks…

‘Y/N! Look. At. Me. Who am I? Who do you belong to?’ Grasping a handful of your hair, he yanks tightly as you snap back, unable to sink into the attack, his eyes seeking yours desperately.

‘I belong to you. Erik, please.’

‘Say my name!’

‘Please N’Jadaka, fuck me.’

Softly strokes your cheek, nuzzling your ear, pleased. ‘No.’

He changes the angle of his fingers so that they’re thrusting up, causing your orgasm to build again as you forcefully suck in a breath against his hand around your throat. He stills all movement again, you moan pitifully, the pressure bringing tears to your eyes.

Grinning wickedly, a glint in his eyes, he returns his hands back between your legs, the flesh so swollen and wet, it gleams softly against his skin. Removing them to roll a nipple between his fingers instead, as you arch your back against his hand and he takes your other nipple in his mouth.

He sucks lightly, flicking the tongue over the already sensitive, tender bud. You hum and he bites down slightly harder than before, turning your moan into a cry.

You can feel his cock pulsing against you and the anticipation is both killing and making you dizzy with pleasure. You clench your thighs around his waist, urging him but he doesn’t move. He releases your breasts, his mouth coming up to kiss you, the pillowy softness red and bruised as his hand comes down to play with your clit. He rubs it lightly, alternating between quick flicks and pressing against the very sensitive nub.

#sinfulsecretschallenge #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #a lot of smut #so much angst #okoye

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ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

On the Road

Pairing: Evil/FC/Sanada

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2368

Warnings: Smut, threesome m/f/m, oral sex, language

I’m so mad because I wrote a whole version of this that I feel like was much better but it got corrupted in word and I couldn’t recover it, so I had to re-write it. Hopefully it came out okay the second time.

You can thank and/or blame @monstersmaid for this. She reminded me of my favorite threesome with her Evil drabble yesterday and I had to write this.

Erika Maya stood anxiously in the passenger pick up/drop off area at the airport. She took deep calming breaths as she waited for the car that was picking her up. A car containing her two interview subjects. Her very first solo interview. For the three months she had worked for her magazine she had acted as a shadow and had finally proven her skills enough to be entrusted with a solo project. Her nerves tried to tell her that her entrustment had more to do with her three years of college Japanese, but she pushed that thought aside. Sure her subjects from New Japan Pro Wrestling didn’t speak more than rudimentary English, but if they didn’t trust her, Erika was sure that she would still be shadowing and just acting as translator.

Rolling her shoulders to loosen them Erika then smoothed out her grey pencil skirt and ran a hand through her hair brushing any flyaways back into her updo. Seeing a black SUV with dark tinted windows approaching Erika straightened and put on a winning smile.

The driver of the vehicle climbed out and held the door open for her. Slipping as she climbed in Erika cursed her innate clumsiness, cheeks pinkening as she climbed in. Great first impression she groaned to herself. But she needn’t have worried. Her two interview subjects, Evil and Sanada, weren’t paying her the slightest of attention both of them huddled over Evil’s phone watching something with rapt interest. Once she was settled Erika waited expectantly for some form of acknowledgement as the driver pulled from the curb.

“Hello?” She finally broke the silence with a clearing of her throat finding herself immediately ensnared in the gazes of two predators. Swallowing hard Erika plastered her smile back on her face, ignoring the sudden heat pooling in her belly. She had been expecting their good looks. Erika wasn’t a slacker. She had done her research. But pictures did nothing to prepare her for them in person. “I’m Erika.” She extended her hand in introduction, feeling stupid as they stared at it until she let it fall limply to her lap.

Well this is off to a great start so far she thought to herself. Brushing off the awkwardness Erika forged ahead, launching into her questions. Evil fielded most of the responses much to her consternation. It was supposed to be a dual interview, but Sanada added little more than the occasional nod or grunt of agreement to Evil’s responses. Though she wasn’t going to complain about listening to Evil. The man spoke in a smooth calm cadence that almost lulled her into a state of relaxation, feeling like she could listen forever to his soft low voice.

When Sanada did speak it almost startled Erika. Though his voice was smooth as silk, he spoke much more elegantly than the other man with mannerisms that spoke of old money. It reminded Erika of the kids from the private school she attended on scholarship, and hoping to find some common ground she innocently asked about his upbringing and whether his family money had helped him in his career pursuit.

It was a mistake. Immediately Sanada’s face became shuttered, eyes growing cold, lips pursing in anger before he pointedly turned away and dismissed her focusing his attention on the phone in his hand leaving Evil once again to become the center of attention.

Though she had a willing audience in Evil, Erika couldn’t help the occasional glances at Sanada, wondering if she should make an overture and try to get him re-engaged.

“Don’t bother.” Evil said noticing her distraction. “You’ve pissed him off. There’s rarely any coming back from that.”

“What did I do?” Erika asked earning an irritated glare from Evil.

“He doesn’t talk about money or family. Everyone knows that.” Evil said simply. “Are we going to talk about Sanada all day or can we get on with this?” He asked irritably.

“I didn’t know that.” Erika huffed under her breath, trying not to let her annoyance show through. All her preparation and she had lost half her story because of a topic she didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to broach. How was she supposed to navigate a field of landmines without a map? The last thing she needed to do now was upset Evil too. That would be a complete disaster.

“I’m sorry.” Erika told him focusing her attention back on the dark clothed man. She shuffled through her notes to give her some time to regroup and gather herself. The somewhat tense atmosphere was broken by the ringing of Sanada’s phone. Seeing Evil watching her impatiently Erika launched into her questions despite Sanada rudely carrying on a conversation.

“What made you…” she started.

“Quiet!” Sanada snapped with a glare making Erika’s mouth snap shut.

How the hell was she supposed to conduct an interview if she couldn’t talk? She thought in annoyance.

Lowering her voice to a whisper she tried again.

“What made you…” Again she stopped as Evil looked at her in confusion, pointing to his ear indicating he couldn’t hear her.

Sucking in a deep calming breath she scooted over the bench closer to Evil leaning into the void between them, bringing herself into his personal space.

“What made you,” she started for the third time. Only this time it was cut off as Evil grabbed her and hauled her onto his lap making her shriek in surprise as he seated her.

“Shut her up Evil!” Sanada growled at his friend turning his back and putting a hand over his ear as he tried to continue his conversation.

“I’m working on it.” Evil snapped back before turning his attention on Erika.

“Now this is much better.” He told her pressing her down on his thighs.

“This is completely inappropriate.” Erika argued wriggling in an attempt to gain her freedom as Evil’s arm wrapped around her waist keeping her right where he wanted her.

“But you like it.” Evil smirked with confidence, his hand moving to rest on her thigh as Erika tried not to think how good it felt pressed against him, his muscular thighs hard beneath her bottom. “Tell me you don’t like it and I’ll let you go.” His fingers danced over her thighs, skimming along the hem of her skirt making Erika squirm.

“I can’t do this.” Erika protested unable to utter the words that would grant her freedom, shifting in Evil’s arms in a subpar effort to escape his hold.

“But you want to.” Evil said his breath warm on her neck. “Nobody will ever know. We won’t say a word.”

His use of plural reminded Erika of Sanada, her eyes flashing up to find him staring having apparently finished his conversation. Erika felt trapped in his gaze as Evil rubbed his hand over her leg making heat pool in her belly.

“Tell me you want it.” Evil cajoled that lulling cadence back in his voice that had her practically melting to his demands. She breathed in, trying to ignore desire burning through her. She should tell him to let her go. She should yell and carry on until he put her right back in her seat. She should demand they behave professionally and with courtesy. She should have done one or all of those things. Instead Erika found herself giving in to the lure of Evil and Sanada.

“I want it.” She admitted, her legs falling open just enough to encourage Evil’s hand to snake up between her thighs, stopping as his fingers came into contact with her satin covered slit. Erika moaned as he rubbed along her pussy, his soft lips pressing against her neck. Her eyes followed Sanada as he moved closer, long fingers reaching for the buttons on her blouse and undoing them. Evil pushed her from his chest, sliding the blouse off her and unsnapping her bra which Sanada quickly pulled free and threw over his shoulder.

A startled gasp left her lips as Sanada grabbed her by the neck and pulled her off Evil’s lap and onto all fours on the bench. Releasing her neck he reached into her hair and pulling it free letting it tumble over her shoulders. Erika shivered under Sanada’s intense gaze as he stared down at her with bottomless depth to his eyes. She barely noticed Evil pushing her skirt over her hips and pulling her panties from her as Sanada unzipped his trousers and pulled out his half hard cock.

“You owe me an apology.” Sanada told her stroking his dick slowly to full length. “You were unspeakably rude earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” Erika breathed her back arching as Evil slipped a finger into her cunt. She frowned as Sanada rolled his eyes and shook his head in disappointment.

Pulling her mouth down to his cock Sanada rubbed Erika’s lips along his velvety tip.

“Apologize.” Sanada demanded again pushing his cock through her lips. This time Erika understood what he wanted, accepting him into her mouth on a sigh that sent vibrations through his cock. Settling back on the seat Sanada rested his hand in Erika’s curls, knotting them around his fist as he guided her mouth up and down his length.

Pushing to his knees, Evil pushed his pants down his thighs then spit in his hand and lubricated his cock before lining it up with Erika’s pussy and shoving in groaning with satisfaction as her tight cunt gripped his dick. His hands splayed across her hips while Sanada reached under her body with one hand to play with her tits, fingers grasping the nipple and squeezing them as she sucked on his cock.

Erika had a hard time breathing around Sanada, his hand keeping her head down on him while Evil’s thrusts grew rougher impaling her throat with Sanada’s dick on every reentry. She struggled to suck in oxygen through her nose, spit trickling out of her lips and onto the leather seats as she drug in ragged breaths each time Sanada pulled out just enough before slamming back into her throat. Evil reached beneath her, thick fingers finding her clit and rubbing the nub with harsh motions making Erika’s hips buck against him as pleasure sped through her body. She was crying out around Sanada’s dick, pussy clenching around Evil’s cock as she climaxed, shaking between the two men as they masterfully played her body to perfection.

As she came down Sanada pulled free of her mouth and Evil out of her cunt, spinning her around with practiced ease as Sanada sat her on his cock facing outwards while Evil stood and moved to the seat on the other side. Grabbing a long strand of hair Evil twirled it around his fist bringing her face down to his cock. Holding her in place Evil rubbed his cock over her face, coating it with the juices of her orgasm as Sanada pounded into her cunt, making her gasp and cry out as her sensitive pussy clenched around him.

“Open.” Evil demanded of Erika pushing the head of his cock into her mouth as she obediently parted her lips. Her tongue swirled around his head the salty aftertaste of her orgasm dancing on her taste buds as she suckled him.

Erika rocked her hips back on Sanada as Evil took her throat, moaning around his thickness with every thrust of Sanada’s cock up inside her.

“I hate car sex.” Sanada grumbled as he shifted up onto his knees behind Erika for a better angle, Erika gripping onto Evil’s thighs as their vehicle darted in and out of traffic. Finally finding a comfortable position he slammed hard back into Erika’s pussy making her cry out around Evil’s cock with a garbled sound as Evil gagged her.

“Better than listening to her blather on.” Evil retorted lifting his hips to bury himself further down Erika’s throat reveling in the choking sob that sounded from her.

“True.” Sanada conceded cursing as the seat buckle bit into his ankle. “Barely.”

“Hear that Erika?” Evil chuckled. “Sanada would almost rather listen to you talk than fuck you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, his hand pushing the back of her head until her nose was against the flesh of his stomach, his seed erupting and filling her throat while she tried to swallow around him. Pushing her off his cock Evil moved back to his seat, tucking himself back in his pants and leaning back to watch as Sanada pushed her off the seat and kneeled behind her on the floorboards.

Sanada’s hand went to the back of Erika’s neck, holding her down as he slammed into her from behind, his hips snapping hard into her ass until he stilled, filling her with his cum with a final thrust.

“Clean me off.” Sanada demanded moving to kneel by Erika’s face disregarding her protests as he pushed his cock through her lips until he felt her tongue licking him clean. Only when he was satisfied did he pull free, tucking back into his slacks and regaining his seat by Evil tossing Erika’s shirt and bra in her direction.

Erika quietly dressed, avoiding looking at the two men she had just been intimate with as she buttoned her shirt, embarrassment coursing through her as she felt Sanada’s seed leaking down into her panties a reminder of what she had just done. She chanced a glance at the two men, finding them immersed in their phones looking for all the world as if this was an everyday occurrence for them. Remembering the fluidness of their actions together Erika realized it probably was. They worked much too well together for that to be a single occurrence.

The rest of the ride was awkward for Erika as she pretended to be engrossed in her notes as Evil and Sanada carried on a hushed conversation never bothering to look twice at her as they made plans for the evening.

When the car stopped she didn’t bother waiting for the driver, opening the door and rushing away with her belongings held tight to her chest, disappearing into the crowd before Evil and Sanada had even exited the car.

#evil fanfic #evil imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites #sanada fanfic #sanada imagine

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lady-o-ren · 6 years ago

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Underneath the Elder Tree

Chapter One

William Fraser had never known a mothers touch in all his young years until he found one under the withering white flowering of an elder tree.

It had happened deep in the forest where the trees grew wild and their branches twined thick, creaking as they swayed from the brisk autumn wind. Their leaves rained down in a golden, sweeping haze, pushing the lad down unfamiliar paths hoping he would notice with just a turn of chin, a maiden fair to care for and she him.

But Willie was deeply distracted searching for frogs, speckled back and green, hoping to find a friend before the forest would cloak in frost and he, stuck in his cabin with only the cracklings of the hearth and his father's chatter for company.

He peered into the dark crevices of craggy rocks only to find hissing beetles, bent on hands and knees to the wet rot of decaying logs, coming eye to eye with a brood of mice huddled in grey furry warmth that glared at him with scorn at the rude invasion.

Nothing that croaked or hopped.

Willie puffed a disappointed sigh to a wasted morning where all he had to show for his efforts was a runny nose that he rubbed along the arm of his too-big wool coat, breeks muddied at the knees that would earn him a tongue lashing from his father with pockets of uneaten worms writhing for escape in the folds. Not to mention a mucky stench clinging to him that left Willie fearing a bath most of all.

He scrapped a hole in the damp soil with the heel of his shoon, crushing the ring of fungi tops and releasing their pungent tang as he emptied his pockets of the wee limbless creatures that had coiled around one another in a slimy pink cluster.

Trudging back home through the slippery mud that left a squelching gasp with every step, Willie caught a sight that had him sinking to the sludge. Tucked away amongst thistle weeds and ferns under a crooked elder tree was a woman curled upon herself like a doe lost in sleep. He felt his heart lodge thick in his throat as his father's voice echoed in his head.

"A beauty beheld in the wilderness is to never be disturbed nor trusted, mo mhac, for there is only treachery lurking where their souls aught to be."

It was one of the many warnings from his father's tales told by the hearth where the spritely fires would alight his grizzle-haired face in a molten sheen as Willie sat at his knee in wide eyed captivation with his wooden snake, Sawney, clasped tightly in his hands.

The stories he'd tell were of witches, faeries, and other vile creatures that dwelled in trees tall enough to blight out the sun so as to snatch a wanderer who'd lost their way, or hide in the rings of standing stones, shaped like jagged teeth as howling wails escaped its maw, waiting for boys such as he.

But there were no towering rocks for the wee folk to hide, nor yet was the sun on it's descent to swallow him in night. No, today he would be like his father. Just as braw, just as brave, if maybe not nearly as tall for the lass in need.

Squaring his shoulders (blood pounding in his ears), Willie picked up a long weathered stick to wield in his hands on the off chance she was one of the wicked folk and approached her like he would for his much loved hoppers - quietly, with hands and legs ready to sprint into action if things went awry.

But as he got closer he saw the woman for what she truly was.

She was clad in a ragged brown coat, thrown open at the waist, where a sullied pale dress could be seen that gathered at her knees. The once fine embroidery depicting spring had succumbed to her travels, unraveling budding flowers with their strange blue leaves (of which Willie had never before seen) and long green vines stitched like the rippling waves of sea. There were rips in the sheer fabric exposing her protruding ribs where faint streaks of blood marked her skin white as snowdrops and white as Willie's face from the startling sight of red. He tore his eyes up to see her tangled craze of curls dark as his own that framed her face gaunt from hunger with lips tinted a deathly kiss of blue.

Her being was such a lifeless thing that Willie thought her dead.

Though to be sure, he gritted his teeth (with a stuttering breath that whistled through his nose) and poked her bared calf with his stick. She woke with a blood curdling groan, swatting her hand towards Willie, who promptly dropped his stick to frantically scamper away at having awakened the dead - if only he hadn't tripped over a tree root jutting up from the ground, falling with a graceless thunk.

"Ifrinn!" Willie yelped, sure he was on his way to meet his creator.

But then the woman of the forest unfurled herself from a pallet of ferns and leaves, parting her dirt-speckled hair that revealed eyes of bewitching amber that glimmered in the rich evening light dappling through the boughs above. They landed on his face, transfixed to hers taut with shock - then darted warily to their surroundings. When nothing stirred from the bushes, the looming shadows of the trees, she found her breath and spoke with a voice gentle and warm as summer rain.

"Did I frighten you, little one?"

Willie nodded, mouth agape. The sound of her flushing his cheeks. "D - Di' I scare ye?"

She brushed a hand along her calf, as she nodded back too. "Terribly. I thought you were a daring fox mistaking me for its supper."

The word supper raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck as he was reminded once more of his father's words. He dug his fingers deep into the soil grasping for a stone.

"Are ye of the auld folk that steals away boys like me tae feed tae yer weans?" Each word tumbled from the quiver of his mouth that both pained and amused the woman to hear.

"Oh, dear boy, is that what you think of me?" She gave him a smile to reassure him that she was nothing of the sort. "You will live another day and many more until you're very old and grey for I have no interest beyond the elderberries to fill my belly." She then laid her palms open at her lap, fingers numb and stiff. "I promise, you have nothing to fear from me."

Showing more trust to a stranger than a boy really ought to, Willie let the burning breath he'd been holding pour out of him in a white cloud of relief. But a new worry took hold as he reached forward, grazing a stubby finger against her berry stained ones, icy to the touch.

"Ye canna eat the berries off the tree, they'll twist yer innards somethin' awful and the black ones do ye worst of all," Willie said with a frown, regretting sharing his last chunk of bread with the wood mice.

Then a kindness so obvious to a child came to mind.

"Come home wi' me!" He said with bright-eyed sincerity, propping high up on his knees. "We have bread and meat and soup that isna cold and a hearth sure tae roast ye - no' that it would," Willie added hurriedly." And -"

"I don't think your family would want you bringing home a stranger, especially one who has no means to pay such generosity back. Don't worry for me, I'll make do here as I am," she firmly insisted.

But Willie saw how her breath whispered from her lips chapped with cold, and how she shivered in her coat, threadbare and useless to ward against the wind growing sharper, seeping to the bone. And what would shield her from the cruel things that hunted by moonlight? He knew not a thing, he saw those scratches at her sides.

No, despite what she said, whatever she may be, Willie wouldn't leave her be.

Stubbornly shaking his head, Willie replied, "I ken my, Da, and he would skin me tae my toes fer leavin' ye here in the cold in no' but tatters, hurtin' and alone. But I promise if ye come wi' me no harm will touch ye as long as I'm near."

A flicker of tenderness shined in her eyes, before shutting them tight, bowing her head, feeling faint. She pressed a trembling palm to her brow as her sight began to haze and prickle with white. She needed to send this fool-hearted boy away before the desperate sleep she so sought would take her. Quietly. Finally at peace.

The lad had simply come too late.

So she hardened her voice with all the grit she could muster, hoped it gleamed vile in her eyes like the creatures he thought she was. "You don't even know my name, nor I yours, boy. You owe me nothing. I need nothing. Now go home before the sun falls behind the mountains and you into the fangs of the beastly wicked."

He flinched hard alright, but clenched his jaw just as quick, undeterred, and kicked himself to his feet with a throaty grunt.

"My name is William James Fraser, your servant," he said, sounding far older than his young years. He waited for a response and after several heartbeats it was given with a heavy sigh.

"Claire," she answered simply with an exasperated look. "But this doesn't mean - "

"William!"

Came a worrying bellow, startling the two. They turned to see a man off in the distance crashing through the overgrown bracken, flushed red as his hair, frantically searching, searching. . .

Claire's hands balled into fists on instinct, her face marked with distress.

"Tis a'right," Willie said softly, trying to calm her. "It's only my Da. He willna hurt ye. He likes the lasses - I think."

Still, Claire forced herself to her feet, leaning against the trunk of the tree for stability as Willie reassured again that she had nothing to fear before rushing off to his father.

___

"Da! Da! Da!" Willie shouted, barreling into his father, all knooby elbows and knees.

"Taing do dhia," Jamie breathed as he kneeled and checked his son over for injury, feeling heart throbbing relief that he was whole and safe. Then he grabbed the lad by the shoulders to meet the ire of his eyes.

"Ye wee wretch!" He growled, though not entirely unkind. "Have I no' told ye time and time again yer no' to venture into the wilderness wi'out me. Tis dangerous for you, as it is for me. Yet here ye are again, blackening my temper, tearing my sanity in two. I aught to tie ye hand and foot but I reckon ye gnaw through the rope like the wee ratten ye are."

"I'm sorry, I dinna mean to stray far." But Willie was hushed from speaking more by a gentle shake of his shoulders.

"That's always yer excuse, lad. Either yer sticking that heid of yers down foxholes or trying to snap yer neck climbing trees to gather bird feathers." Jamie had to refrain from rolling his eyes when informed they were, "No' just any feathers".

"So what daft thing was it this time?"

A smile touched Willie's lips, his face aglow. "I found a faerie woman, I'm sure of it. I promised she could come home wi' us, have supper wi' us and ye say it's a mighty sin tae break yer word, bad as lyin'."

"Aye," Jamie said quietly after a moment's troubled hesitation, eyeing him very closely. "I have told ye so." And ran a hand over his sons head, feeling for a bump. "Does this faerie of yers have a name?"

"Claire," Willie said excitedly. "I'll show ye to her."

He was then dragged to his feet towards the lone elder tree amidst the mossy sprawl of birch and pine, where the woman proclaimed to be faerie was where she'd been left - leaning against the drooping shade. Only now she was grasping a dagger, staring with eyes large and feral at the man in front of her, whose pulse convulsed at his throat.

Jamie's hand flew to the hatchet belted at his waist that could swing at animals twice his size with a graceful ease, but Willie exclaimed, "No Da!" knowing this as well.

"Claire's only scairt of ye! Please dinna hurt her!" The wee lad planted his feet to the grass and threw his arms around Jamie's hoping to weigh it down. Instead the elder reached with his other hand but with the wooden handle pointed at Claire.

"Does my son tell me true? Do ye hold that blade to protect yerself or to harm?"

Her blurring gaze jumped from Jamie to Willie, whose face had gone ghost-white, yet still he kept true to his word, and moved to stand between her and his father like a devoted knight. With her eyes beginning to sting and an unaccustomed warmth flaring small beneath her breasts, Claire lowered her hand but kept hold of the dagger that had been hidden in the folds of her ruined dress.

Parting her lips she murmured near breathless, "I - I only lost my way." Then all went deathly black and chilling as she fell to the mottled leaves.

"Ye killed her, Da!" Willie cried as he came to Claire's side.

"How could I when I laid no' but eyes upon her?!" But Jamie too sank beside her, with guilt rippling sickly in the pit of his stomach for raising his hand to one who now looked so pitiful and small. Gently, he rested his hand against her ribs, cringing at how he could feel the starving curve of each one, and found that she did indeed still breathe.

"She's no' dead," Not yet anyway. She made a small sound, a strangled whimper, in unconscious agreement.

"Then we bring her home, right?" Willie's voice was an anxious plea, as he smoothed Claire's curls from her face.

"Seems we must as she has no other."

Jamie then glanced up to the sky where clouds of stormy grey began to billow and whirl, slowly veiling the last orange rays of sunlight. Swiftly, he took off his wool coat and wrapped Claire tight, holding her flushed to the heat of his chest, wondering how she hadn't frozen before being found.

"What about her dagger?"

The long blade laid off to the side and rather than leaving what had been aimed at his gullet, Jamie belted it aside his hatchet.

As he hoisted her up in his arms and walked down the sloping, steep paths home (with Willie uncharacteristically quiet, but with his lone urgent chant of "Hurry, Da" while casting worried glances his way) Jamie pondered who or what he embraced. This woman with eyes like no other being he'd ever known or dreamed of, yet fragile as any mortal man.

Where did ye come from, lass?

___

A/N:

*Willie is the son of Mary MacNab (deceased) in this world. A lot easier to write good things about her then Geneva.

*The Elder tree symbolizes new life and the fairy realm

Thank you for reading!

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #someone needs to kick me in the ass so i can finish just between lovers #cause i know no one wants to read about willie #or claire needing body warmth from a certain scot #this story is purely indulgent just so i can write one scene

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fixxofvixx · 6 years ago

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TEACHING VIXX - CHAPTER SEVENTY

Made it to Ch 70 and still counting! Should I try for 100 chapters?!😂😂

I finally got through with this chapter so I could post something on Taekwoon’s birthday! I went to 4 more Leo birthday cafes today and I will post pictures later!!

Enjoy and please let me know what you think!!!!!

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Everything was covered in shadows. It wasn’t a complete darkness but it was so very close. You blindly reached for Taekwoon. The movement sent a shock of pain through your body, starting from your leg. Tears streamed from your eyes.

“T-Taekwoon, what….I can’t see. Taekwoon, what do I do?”

“Shh, it’s okay, my love. Let’s see what JangPil says.” He held you again his chest and and yelled for JangPil.

You could hear footsteps coming in to wherever you were but you kept your face buried in Taekwoon’s chest.

“Hyung, she can’t see! What happened?”

“What do you mean she can’t see? What does that mean?” You jumped slightly when you heard Taekwoon’s mother. You didn’t know she was here. The pain from before resurfaced.

“Let me see her.”

You felt Taekwoon pull you away from his chest and a different set of hands held your face.

“Alright, my dear, let’s see what’s going on. Open your eyes. Hmm, yes, I think it will be okay. Nothing seems abnormal other than the fact that you can’t see right now. Its possibly a side-effect from the viper bite. The bite can affect the body in different ways.”

“V-viper? But aren’t those deadly?” Fear for your babies surged through your heart. “What about the babies?”

“Some vipers don’t have enough venom to kill an adult. I can check on the little ones if you’ll allow me?”

“Yes, of course.” You flinched when you felt a hand on your stomach.

“They seem to be okay. Shaken up, but okay.”

A sigh of relief left your body. You tried to sit up but another wave of pain hit you and you hissed in response. You felt Taekwoon’s lips on your temple and the pain eased a bit.

“Here, Taekwoon, she needs to take this. It will help. Y/N, I made some anti-venom for you. It will taste terrible but it will help.”

You felt the edge of a cup hit your lips and you raised your hand to hold it as you drank. JangPil was right, it tasted awful. Once you swallowed the last of it, a disgusted shiver ran through your body. A coughing fit took hold of your body and you could feel arms around you and a hand patted your back. A new set of tears sprang from your eyes and you grabbed for Taekwoon.

“Its okay, love. It’ll will get better.”

“I want to go home, Taekwoon.”

“Hyung?”

“She has taken everything that she needs. She just needs to heal. She’s going to be in pain for a while. She needs to maintain her appetite and drink as much fluid as she can. The bite will dehydrate her. However, that is nothing that can’t be done elsewhere. Perhaps it would be better if she was comfortable in her own home.”

“Okay, come on, love, I’ll take you home.” Taekwoon put his arms under you and lifted you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck. Hiding against Taekwoon relieved your mind a bit from the anxiety of not being able to see.

“Taekwoon….y/n…..I’m so sorry. Y/N, I shouldn’t have doubted you. I know this is all my fault. I was just shocked. Please let me know if I can help you in anyway.” You heard Taekwoon’s mother speaking to your left and you raised your head a bit to answer but Taekwoon did it for you.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know when she feels better. We can talk all about babies then.” Taekwoon squeezed your body closet to his and you shook your head in agreement. You didn’t trust your voice right now.

He began walking again and everything was quiet. Tears still came down your cheeks and you knew Taekwoon’s shirt would be soaked soon.

“Taekwoon?”

“Yes, my love?”

“My eyes…..” You almost didn’t want to ask, fearing the answer would be too much for you. “A-Are they still green? Do they still have your green?”

You raised your head to look at what you thought would be his direction.

“Yes, it’s still there. Don’t worry, you’re still mine.” He kissed your lips and continued walking. Your heart settled a bit and you sighed against his shoulder. Knowing his green was still in your eyes gave you hope that everything would return to normal.

“Y/N, do you have the keys for the car?”

“Oh, yes, they should be in my pocket.” He stopped and placed you on your feet. You kept your weight off the leg with the bite. Before you could reach for your pants, Taekwoon’s hand was already there. His hand reached inside your pocket and pulled the key out.

“I could have gotten them for you.”

“I know, ” you heard the door locks click and the car door open. Taekwoon picked you up again and placed you in the seat. “but this way, I succeeded in getting into your pants.”

You could practically hear the wink in his voice. It was a cheesy joke but he had made you laugh which was what you needed.

“I think you accomplished that a long time ago, you sneaky cat.”

You felt the seat belt go around you and a kiss was placed on your cheek. “Yes, but I’ll take any chance I can get. And I’m a panther, not just some cat.”

You could hear his growl as he closed the door and left you in silence for a moment until you heard his door open. Eventhough you were secure inside the car you felt so exposed. You c ou uldn’t see what was around you. You knew Taekwoon was beside you but you couldn’t see him. That thought alone was enough to bring new tears to your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. JangPil said it would be.”

“But for how long, Taekwoon? How long will I be blind? I can’t see anything but occasional flash of light. I don’t even remember seeing a snake. Why is it always snakes that cause problems in my life.”

“I know, love, but I’ll help you. I’ll take care of you. We all will.” You felt his hand on your leg and he caressed it in an effort to comfort you. “I shouldn’t have let you leave the house. I know the babies are mine. I’ve never had any doubt about that. I was just so shocked at what my mother said and then you went outside and…”

“I know, Taekwoon. I shouldn’t have taken off like that. That was my fault. I was just so hurt and afraid of what you might think eventhough I knew you would trust me. I was just embarrassed and I needed to get away. But I should have stayed and then I would still be able to see and I wouldn’t have this excruciating pain in my leg.”

“Just try to rest and I’ll get you home as soon as I can.”

—————–

The car ride turned out to be never-ending and nauseating. Not knowing where you were and the unexpected turns made you long for your bed even more.

Finally, Taekwoon announced that you were in the parking garage. A manager was going to meet them there to take the car back so Taekwoon could take you straight up to your apartment. He stopped the car and you heard him get out. A couple of seconds later, your door opened. You released the seatbelt and reached for your bag that you knew to be in the floorboard next to you. Taekwoon helped you out of the car and tried to pick you up. This time you didn’t protest like you usually did.

“You know, if you would just let me carry you around like this all the time, we would have less problems.”

You sighed and put your head on his shoulder. “This is a rare occurrence. Once my leg heals and I can see again, I can walk on my own.”

“Yes, my queen.” His sarcasm was not lost on you. You reached up and tugged on a lock of his hair. He growled but you only giggled. It felt good to smile easily like this. There was no use in feeling sorry for yourself.

Taekwoon had you in your apartment in no time and gently deposited you on the couch.

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten for a while.” Your stomach answered for you and you heard him laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A few minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring. The sudden fear of having to tell the others what happened hit you. A few seconds later, your apartment was filled with noise.

“Did you find out about the baby?” Jaehwan spoke first followed by a barrage of questions that you couldn’t make sense of.

“Calm down guys, let me explain something first.” Taekwoon was close judging by his voice. The more he explained, the more you buried yourself into the couch. Hearing someone say everything out loud brought on a new set of tears.

“Oh, Noona, don’t cry! It will work out. And twins! That’s great! Although, I think we should buy more baby things now. I’m sure Taekwoon wouldn’t mind that, right?” You heard Hakyeon to your left. You smiled at the leader’s always present optimism.

“I’m sure your eyes will be better soon, noona. Just keep your strength up and think of it as not having to see Taekwoon hyung’s face for a while.” Hyuk giggled and then you could him running in the apartment, most likely from Taekwoon.

“Why don’t we head back to the apartment and let noona rest. If you want, I can take a look at the snake bite a little later.”

“Thank you, Hakyeon. That would be wonderful.”

After they had left, Taekwoon proceeded to force feed you anything he could find. You finally ended up in a fit of giggles and a full belly. He made sure that all of the paths around the apartment were clear so you wouldn’t trip on things. By the time night fell, your leg was still on fire but you didn’t feel as nauseous. Taekwoon tried to insist that you needed help in the shower but you refused. He whined at the door until you were finished then he had carried you to your bed.

“Y/N, have you ever heard of sense deprivation?”

“Yeah, like your other senses are heightened when you lose one?”

“Yes, there is that. But…..the, uh, other kind.” He chuckled softly as he spoke.

“Other kind?” You looked in the direction of his voice, confused.

“What other ki–oh……oh. Um, yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. My leg is still killing me and if you haven’t noticed, I have a rather large belly in the way.”

“Maybe tomorrow?”

You laughed out loud at his eagerness to try new things. “I’m hoping my blindness doesn’t last very long, Taekwoon.”

You jumped when you felt his hand on the inside of your thigh. His lips gently kissed yours as you tried not to smile. He finally broke away and sighed. “You never know, the…….stimulation might help. You might need a jolt to your system.”

“I’m sure you would be able to do that. However, my leg still presents a problem.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Why don’t we get some sleep and maybe things will be better in the morning. And…..if you get your sight back by morning,” the hand that was on your thigh moved higher, “then I get to blindfold you.”

#Taekwoon fic #hybrid taekwoon #hybrid leo #leo fix #vixx fanfic #hybrid #taekwoon #leo

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years ago

Text

#SundaySweat

[Winston Duke x Reader]

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Smut, y’know?

A/N: Congrats to Winston Duke on the Kimbo Slice biopic, will definitely be in attendance once all is said and done. HOWEVER, WInston Duke’s Insta stories are getting a little hot. Very innocent, but HOT! He’s working out, gaining some lbs, sweating his ass off, grunting through his reps and we are here for it! So here is a fic based on a recent story he shared with us that he captioned #SundaySweat.

Winston squats, thrusting the kettlebell in the air as he stands; repeating the motion over and over again. Sweaty is an understatement to describe how much fluid his body is secreting under the strain of his personal training. He is not bothered about looking too macho or saving face to make it look easy, no, he pushes himself to the brink; breaking his body for the pleasure of coming out on the other side fit for his new role that he has every intention of embodying to his fullest extent. He grunts audibly as his muscles contract to power through his movements. His eyes squinting as the perspiration overwhelmed his brow, running into his eyes with a burning sensation that only gives him more motivation to go on; if he ain’t dripping by the end of it, he wasn’t working hard enough.

Winston drops the kettlebell on the rubberized floor, howling without apology as his endorphins disseminates throughout his limbs. That was his 3rd set of 20 completed after finishing his left side; he was planning for at least five total sets when his phone began to ring in his ears.

Going over to his phone, he picks it up to see your name displayed for a FaceTime request. Winston, still catching his breath, takes the call.

“Hey, baby.” he huffs.

“What’s up with you? I called you earlier, you didn’t pick up?” you ask. You knew he was in beast mode for his new movie, but you still bust his balls when you can.

“Well, I’m at the gym. I have about 30 minutes left before I can get away. Did you need something?” he asks, wiping sweat from his face.

“Just you is all.” you say with a sigh. You look around a park as life goes on around you without a thought. You took some time for yourself today doing laps around the park but you were so over today, and Winston is great at filling the boring parts of life.

“Aww, do you miss me, my love?” He holds the phone up to his face a little closer for attempted privacy as he spoke sweetly to you.

You nod, “Mhm...we’ve been like two ships passing in the night lately. You get home, I’m sleep. I wake up, you’re gone. I can’t stand this type of scheduling for you.”

He nods, blinking slowly, “I know (Y/N), it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“Yeah, E! True Hollywood Story. But at least I can see your face in my hands one way or another now.” you say lightly touching the glass of your phone keeping you from his skin. You cross the parking lot to make your way to your car.

“Ohh no, you wouldn’t want me now, I’m a mess right now. Whew, sweaty, it’s not a good look.” Winston waves his hand in front of his face as if he got a whiff of himself.

You smile shaking your head, “Nah, that’s how I like you. Maybe it’s pheromones or some shit but when you’re hot and sweaty after doing some work, I just...light up or something. Reminds me of when I used to be the one that did that to you…”

Winston shows that gap you’ve ran your tongue over countless times. His whole face smiles as he marinates on your statement. “Used to? Who said that?”

You shrug getting in your car to sit, smirking as you tease. “Come on, Winston, you are going to have to do more than what a boxer does to train now, and I know they do that whole ‘no sex’ rule to save your energy, keep you aggressive, or whatever the fuck.”

Winston stares at you a moment. You’re not sure if he is offended or you just reminded him of something. “Winston, what are you doing? Is the connection laggin?” you ask moving the phone around in the air.

He shakes his head, running his thumb along his bottom lip. You count the crinkles in his forehead subconsciously, wishing you could massage them smooth; every feature of this man turned you on, as they were stereotypically imperfect and unwanted. But he displays them proudly.

“Hey, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah?” you reply as you lean against you car door window, entranced.

“You look so beautiful.” his voice purrs saying this. You watch his round brown eyes dart up and down the screen. He knew just what to say and exactly how to say something to gas you up and feel like his precious jewel.

You hide your smile, looking away. “Thank you, I know,” you say trying to sound cool and unphased.

“You were running outside in that today?” he asks. You had a lavender purple sports bra on and matching leggings with a black waistband and mesh panels.

You look down at yourself, brushing your hand across your the top of your breasts, “Mhmm, it’s hot out today, and burned some calories myself. Gotta stay right, keep it tight!”

Winston screws his face up making an O with his mouth, “Oooh, don’t say that now.”

“What?” you ask.

He points at you through the screen, “You are outside looking like that without me to admire fully and missing the tightness you have worked hard on, I won’t have it.”

You suck your teeth, “Please, at least somebody can admire it for once. As for my tightness....well, you don’t need to worry about that until after the movie wraps, right?”

Winston blows a raspberry at the screen, “To hell with that! You’re speaking nonsense, that’s not in my contract. I’m only playing a fighter, remember?” he says annoyed.

You hold your hand up, “What can I say? You need to stay in character, and this…” you grab a titty and kiss it, “can stay right here, waiting for you.”

“Mm, do that again.” Winston requests.

You pick your titty up, kissing it again. “That what you mean?”

Winston emits a guttural groan, “Come on, show me something.”

You scoff at him, “Um, I am not pulling my breast out for someone to see behind you, nah sir.”

Winston looks around getting up. You see equipment and coming lights pass him before he passes through a door to a quieter room “Ok, now go ahead. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

You laugh, “Where did you go? “

“The locker room. What I'm doing is probably the most innocent thing to go down in here. Now don't be shy…” he murmurs getting comfortable.

You look away hiding your face a moment before turning back to your phone. You pull the short zipper in front of your sports bra down, before reaching into one cup to pull one titty out.

Winston licks his lips, putting one hand to the side of his face, “Woooow, mama look at you.”

You smirk, his reaction motivating you as your caress your areola, stimulating your nipple to perk up. “All that’s missing is them lips baby. I know you hungry after all that work you put in.”

“I gotta have a taste, baby. Are you headed home?” Winston asks as he opens his locker.

You put your titty back, starting the car up, “Mhmm, when should I expect you?”

Winston starts getting a bag out of his locker, putting a towel on his shoulder, “I’m headed there now.”

“Ok, don’t wreck yourself tryna rush. I want you to take your time...understand?”

Winston smiles crookedly, “Oh, I have every intention on it.”

Driving home, your cat is starting to percolate at just the thought of what’s headed its way later. You turn on some twock jams get yourself in a headspace of bad bitch-ness, to pop that ass on him.

Pulling up to the driveway, you see his car in front of the house. Did this nigga really beat me home? You thought to yourself. No way in hell, he would’ve had to been speeding; his gym is like 15 minutes further away than the park is.

You make your way to the door, putting the key in the door the only find out the door is unlocked already. Confused and now on edge, you ease the door open, peeking inside.

“Hello? Winston, is you in here?” No one responds. Your place is quiet, seems undisturbed. You step fully into the house. As you close the door, you’re suddenly wrapped up in a hold that shook you up.

“I know you said to take my time, but I got ahead of myself.” Winston purrs in your ear. He kicks the front door closed behind him as his hands travel the front of your body; massaging you greedily. You tense your body up to try to fight back your arousal. “Wait, wait. I wanted to shower first. I’m still sweaty, Winston.”

Gripping your hips, Winston grinds his hard on between your cheeks, breaking your train of thought. He kisses your shoulder up to you neck before saying. “There’s no reason to cool down when shits already getting hot.” His hand snakes down your belly to your crotch, taking a handful of your throbbing pussy. “We’re just going to get dirty again, anyway.”

You move your hips with the motion of his fingers swirling your vulva on top of your thin legging material; reaching for Winston’s face as you turn to kiss him him aggressively. You were more than ready to bust it open, but you needed to play him. You push your elbows back to knock him off of you as you prance to the kitchen.

“Leave me be, Winston! I need something to give me energy first!” you yell behind you.

Winston tales you, “I’m not thinking about food right now, I don’t see how you would be.”

You make it to the kitchen island and reach into the fruit bowl to grab an apple. Swiftly, you turn around and hold it in front of his face. Winston looks at it, then back at you; scoffing as he leans his hands on either side of you against the island. While you still hold it, he bites about half the damn apple in one go. Your mouth hangs open at the power of his jaws, the width of his mouth, and his lips curling around the fruit before being coated with its juices, that are now running down your arm. Winston notices, leaning down to catch the Apple juice with the drag of his tongue. The stimulation drives your mind into an animalistic state, as he is pulling out all the tricks. You toss the apple away to grab his face, licking him from chin to his lips, sucking the sweetness off him like the summer treat he was; pushing your hips against his bulge.

Winston turns his face from you still trying work down that Apple. “Not fair! My mouth is your weakness and I can't fight back?”

As he chews, you say, “But I knew you were starving! Can’t do much with that mouth when its already full.” You feel a pang of true hunger as you reach behind for the bowl and grab yourself a banana.

“Now let me get a couple bites in and maybe we will see what we’re up for.” Turning back to him, you concentrate on peeling it, side after side after side, until all of its raw uncut length is extended towards your mouth. You really could not wait to bite into it, mouth open, you look up subconsciously and pause. Winston is still chewing but appears to be almost done. He grabs your wrist firmly, shaking his head side to side. “Don’t you dare.”

You smile, shaking his hold off and grabbing the neck of his tank. Pulling him in closer, you look him dead in round brown specs as you slowly sheath your mouth around the banana. Taking a bite and not breaking eye contact you bite the tip off baring your teeth, moaning as you knock it back.

“Mmm, this is sooo good. I’m going to take my time with this.” you tease, pulling the peels down a little further.

Quicker than you could say Tobago, Winston grips you under your cheeks sitting you on the island. Your legs spread like biscuits.

“Lay back.” Winston commands.

You protest, “Uh uh! I’m still eating.”

“Take a break, I gotta eat too.” Winston’s tone deepens. The baritone shakes your core as you imagination runs wild. You take one more bite and lean back on your elbows.

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me just wash up!”

Winston’s hands travel up your thighs, “How much do these leggins cost?”

The question takes you out a minute, “Uhhh. I think $50-”

Suddenly you feel a jerk, followed by a rip.

“WINSTON! What the fuck!” you look down as he has turned your leggings into thigh highs.

Winston gives a hearty belly laugh as he lights up at your reaction, “I love how you are so obsessed with eradicating panty lines from your life, you rarely wear them.”

Kneeling down, he lines his face up to your vulva so all you see is his eyes between your thighs. He studies your opening like a safe to crack. His fingers trail down from your clit, along your labia, spreading the lubrication from your opening, and back up again. Winston holds your leg over his shoulder as he kisses your inner thigh with that luscious mouth of his. You feel vibrations from his mouth as he hums against you. That coupled with his manual stimulation took your focus off of your fruit snack and back to your human sized one.

“Oooh, Winton, don’t tease me please. I won’t last much.” you moan.

Winston pulls his mouth from your thigh, taking his fingers in to taste your dripping anticipation. “That’s ok, because I have plenty in me to last for the both of us.” With that, he takes his tongue out wide to slide across every inch of your pussy. You stretch your arms out to grab ahold of something, anything that will keep you planted to earth; knocking over the fruit bowl in the process. Your spine threatens its integrity as Winston sensational head game makes your back curl in defense against the arousal.

“Shiiiit, right there, baby, stay…” you fade out as you sit up to watch him. His eyes are aimed on you as he works his neck to keep up with his tongue strokes, making every effort to drive you insane. His arms reach up to the top of your bra, attempting to pull it down. You take the cue and sit up to pull your bra clean off, before leaning back so he can massage your titties the way he needed. Then Winston fixed his lips around your clit, vacuum sealing it to to suck your very soul from it.

This was not fair to you as you came full force, curling your toes up so hard you felt a cramp coming on.

“Ohhh, ok, ok! You bout to give me a damn charlie horse, damn!” you day, slapping his head to tap out.

Winston pulls from you, planting a couple kisses on your pussy for good measure before standing up to take his shirt off, “You know I didn’t have this gap before you, right?”

You still trying to catch your breath, “What you mean?”

“You know how kids suck their thumb, and shifts their teeth?” He asks resting a hand on your thigh as he steps between you.

“Nigga, I know you not saying...shut the fuck up! You play too much!” you exclaim. Sitting up you reach around the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down, barely able to get past his erection, until they fall around his ankles. You hug his torso to plant two hard slaps on his cheeks, squeezing them roughly.

“Ahh!! Cut it out, (Y/N)! You’re really going to get it now. You need to remember to stretch so you don’t cramp up.” He says as he put his arms under your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders. You put your arms around his neck sucking plentiful lips, “That’s what I’m tryna do. Put that fat ass to work on me, baby.”

You lick your hand and reach down to work his length some, causing a low humming grunt from Winston. “Mmm, fuck, baby. Go ahead, let me in.”

Running his tip against your lubricated lips, you still feel highly sensitive from him sucking you off earlier. Biting back, you line him up to slowly enter you. Winston can’t hold back the natural gravity of pleasure as his hips dip to push further into you, stretching you out. You take your hand away, beginning to shake as you hold onto his neck for dear life.

“Ooooh, Winston. Ahhh…” You moan. Looking at him descend into inch by inch was almost enough to make you come again, so you look away to Winston’s face. His mouth is hanging open as he looks into your eyes, stopping. He brings his face to your neck to kiss on your clavicle.

“Come on, you gotta move baby.” You beg feeling your walls contracting for friction. Winston continues to kiss on your neck as he pulls back, dipping his hips before pushing back into you to graze your G-spot. Your head falls back as he begins his strokes. The position he has you in makes you have to completely hold on to him for full support or you’re falling back and busting your head. Winston picks up his pace, making your pussy start to talk back now.

“This dick exciting you like that baby?” Winston groans in your ear.

Putting a death grip around his neck, you say, “Fuuuck. Yes, Winston. Your dick feels so good. Ah shit!”

Stirring your insides like mac and cheese, his pace hits his peak as he drills into you. A ballerina couldn’t match the point of your toes as he sent your body into oblivion again. You claw his back, biting down on his shoulder to bury your cries of pleasure. Winston huffs and grunts loudly before he loses his rhythm too much, slamming his last stroke into you. Balls deep, you lean back for air as he pulls out completely.

Winston looks down at his dick, “Damn, look at all that cream we made, eh?” You look down to see his frosted dick; like a call of the wild, you slide off the island dropping to your knees.

“Let me clean that off for you, daddy.” you purr, massaging his cornucopia thighs as you take him in your mouth. You tongue dances around his tip as as you suck it, working his length in deeper and deeper with every bob. Looking up at him he almost looked near tears, as you slumped, soaking his wood just right. He bites his lip to stifle his moans as his hips try to pace with your mouth.

“Ohhh, your mouth feels so good.” He reaches for your head, gripping your hair. “MORE than good...it’s great.”

You almost laugh on his dick for the nostalgia of childhood cereal being compared to head; but instead focus on keeping your throat wide, relaxing your jaw to deep throat him as best you could. You feel his muscles tighten in his thighs as he tries to hold back his orgasm, his fingers tightening his grip on your roots.

Winston lets out a audible groan at your skills now. “Ahhhh, FUCK! You’re so damn nasty with that pretty mouth; you almost got me there.” Pulling your mouth away you say, “Not before I get one more nut, nigga. You owe me back pay.”

Winston chuckles, “Be careful what you wish for. Turn around.” he instructs.

You quickly get on all fours, arching to bring your hips to their full peak. Winston grips both cheeks, kneading them before you feel his tongue on your vulva again. You shake automatically, still sensitive from the stimulation, you grasp at the floor unsuccessfully for support as the tip of his tongue relentlessly rolls against your clit repeatedly while he hums into your pussy. Coming back up for air, he lines himself up against you again. “You know the food is good when it gets you singing, right?” Winston asks while slipping his tip between you folds.

Your laugh at him turns into sharp gasp as his girth stretches your walls out once more. This time he starts at a steady pace as you have physically gotten accustomed to his length but your nervous system was having a problem trying to deal.

You were somewhere between cheering and weeping, “Ooooh Winston, baby please, I’m cu-” the sound you let out next made up for your subsequent speechlessness.

Winston grips your leggings-turned-thigh highs like reigns, growling as he digs you out while your tightness bears down on him. “Keep that arch for me, baby. You got this, it's all yours.”

His motivations were all you needed to straighten up and power through as he seemed close. Throwing it back on him drove Winston nuts.

“I know you been wanting to come, fill me up baby. Fill my guts os I don’t be hungry, baby.” You moan. Your own dirty talk caused yet another wave to wash over you as you came on his dick again, walls caving in around him.

“Ohhh Goddamit, gimme that shit!!” you screech like a banshee

Winston babbles in moans and grunts, completely lost of the English language until instinct takes over so that he holds you down winding his hips against you, intensifying your orgasm until he shoots your insides up with all he had built up within him. Winston’s weight slowly collapses on you and you slide down with him, still inside you. Your breaths match up as you two slowly come down.

“No workout can compare to your body of work, baby.” Winston says, kissing behind your ear before slowly pulling out or you. “I think we earned a shower.”

You shake your head, or at least you think you did, not having full feeling back in your body yet, “I don’t mind being dirty a little while longer.”

I think I was hungry when I wrote this. I been wanting to do smut with food like they used to do in the 90s, whipped cream and shit, so this is me experimenting.

Shoutout to @jackburtonsays , honey I will message you if you do not see this because you asked for a fic, I just so happened to feel like doing it.

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls

T’akia

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Song of Stevens

The Coffee Prince

Wakanda Got Y’all

If I Could Do It All Again

#winston duke fanfic #winston duke x reader #shakafic #fanfic #smut #winston duke smut #winston duke x you #winston duke

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