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jen-with-a-pen · 9 months ago

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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.

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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan.

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”

You wanted to take his finger and break it.

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.”

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.

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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!”

“No! Fuck– Get off me!”

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.

“Is that all, Sergeant?”

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.”

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

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buckys-wintersoldier · 10 months ago

Text

“Fuck me.” | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary -> Bucky always tries to decide about the guys you go out with, and when you tell him to fuck you in an argument he doesn’t hesitate to do what you want him to do.

Warnings -> Minors DNI, 18+, smut, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), chocking, bit of size kink, jealous/ possessive!Bucky, teasing, slight degradation, using the word slut

Wordcount -> 2.4k

Request -> 1. Enemies to lovers 2. Jealous Bucky 3. Possibly a combination of 2, 3, 10, & 12 or just any of the ones selected @sadisticlyme

A/N -> Thank you so much for that request, I hope you like what I made with it. My requests are open, you can also request for the “Bucky Barnes Smut Menu” or my “1-Followers Special” (you can join that if you want to) Divider made by @firefly-graphics. Also thank you to @sergeantbarnessdoll for helping me to find those pictures.

Prompt -> Bingo of your own | I3 | Free Space | @thebo3bingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Smut Menu | Bingo of your own | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Fuck me,” you shout through the room.

You’re staring at Bucky; your jaw clenches and your hands are into fists. You hate the way he acts around you, like he could decide about the boys you hang out with.

Not really sure why you told him to fuck you instead of telling him to fuck himself, you run your fingers through your hair and wipe a strand out of your face.

Bucky chuckles sarcastically and walks a few steps closer. You’re in front of the kitchen counter, and he walks until he reaches the kitchen island, which is opposite you.

“I would love to,” he says and smirks at you, his hands resting on his hips, and he leans his upper body forward. “Wanna go into my room and let’s have some fun, doll?"

Your eyes widen when you hear those words leave his lips. The brown-haired man is just a few inches away from you, and he walks closer, coming to a halt when there is only space for a piece of paper between your bodies. Bucky towers over you, his hands finding their places on the kitchen counter behind you.

“Do you want me to stop, or are you already dripping for me?” Bucky mumbles into your ear, his breath warm against your neck, and you shiver slightly.

Of course you’re wet; his body is against yours, and the way he is talking to you can only lead to soaked panties. But you would never admit this to him; otherwise, he would probably fuck you right there and then, and he would win the discussion about the guys you always meet, which aren’t as good as him. And he is right, but you hate him for trying to get away from every guy you like, so you don’t let him push his dick inside of your already wet pussy yet.

“What’s going on here?” Steve suddenly asks, and Bucky walks a step backwards, turning around to his best friend.

“She thought it was funny to joke around,” Bucky says, shrugging, but you know he is smirking mischievously.

Then he turns back to you and walks a step closer again. His hips thrust forward, and you feel his growing member in his pants. He presses his dick against your leg, making you gasp quietly.

“Right, doll?” he asks, but you’re too much in your thoughts to respond to his question. Bucky grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his steel blue eyes. “Joking around, huh?” he repeats.

You nod and try to turn your head away. The intense stare feels like he is looking into your souls, like he would find out that you’re unnaturally wet because of him.

You breathe shakily, trying to get your thoughts of his hand on your body under control. You can’t help but feel the arousal between your legs growing, soaking your panties completely. You hate Bucky so much; he is always so flirty with everything but tries to control the people you go out with. But on the other side, his jealous and possessive side turns you on beyond belief, which doesn’t help your wet cunt.

But as well as his way of controlling the guys, you always have those annoying arguments. He is jealous of everyone and tells you things about the guys you don’t want to know before your first date with them. Or it’s because he tries to get you angry; sometimes you feel like he loves to see you being mad at him; he always smiles and pushes you until you shout at him. And mostly you’re wet then, turned on by the way he talks to you and acts or touches you.

Bucky turns back to his best friend. His hand touches your body softly, and you feel the goosebumps appearing on your skin. Then you finally find some words to show him how angry you are because he thinks you’re joking around.

“Joking around? You fucking annoy me,” you growl. He laughs in response, and you can’t stop yourself from getting more angry.

Sometimes you really don’t get the way you’re angry and needy because of him at the same time. It’s like you're mad at him, but your pussy knows you want him. The imagination of his dick sliding through your folds until he pushes inside of you and fucks your rough is always in your mind when the two of you have an argument.

When he is standing next to Steve, he faces you. The smirk on his lips says he knows about your little problem between your legs.

“Bet you’re dripping because of me. Your little pussy wants my attention, starving for my touch and especially with my dick between those tight walls. You’re a little slut, my little slut, but you try to deny that. Trying to fuck yourself with your fingers, trying to get what I can give you,” Bucky says, and you immediately blush, looking down at your hands.

Steve’s eyes widen when he looks from his best friend to you. You swallow hard and press your thighs together, trying to stop the arousal between your legs. But the way Bucky talks to you, the way he is acting like he didn’t say he would love to fuck you, let your cunt drip even more.

“Bucky,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s direction and punches his best friend softly.

“What? Can’t a man have a bit of fun?” he asks, rolling his eyes, annoyed.

Steve sighs, looking at you, then at Bucky, before he turns around and walks out of the room. He definitely needs some training after Bucky tried to get you into bed and said filthy things. Bucky leans with his back against the wall, still smirking at you.

“Need some help, or do you think your little fingers are enough for your pussy? Mhm? Do you want mine, I bet you can’t take them,” Bucky says.

You groan, annoyed. You’re not sure if you want to leave the room and go back to your room to give yourself some pleasure or if you want to cook something. You feel Bucky's eyes roaming over your body; his stare lets you shiver.

“You think you can do better than my fingers? Not even a bit,” you tell Bucky, deciding to go into your room.

Bucky laughs, tilting his head slightly. You both know that your fingers are not as good as his, not depending on his skills, but his fingers are bigger, like he is.

“I think they are, yes. The women underneath me always screamed my name when they squirted all over me,” Bucky says, pushing himself up.

He is like a tiger who catches his prey with the way he looks at you, but it’s enough for you to feel smaller than you’re when you’re around him.

“I would prefer to call one of my dates instead of letting you fuck me,” you say through clenched teeth.

You don’t prefer that, but your little game is just too funny to stop the teasing. You see Bucky's jaw clenching; he furrows before he starts laughing.

“Oke, fuck them, but you’re thinking of me, aren’t you?”

You look for your phone, tap something on it, and put on the loudspeaker. It doesn’t take long for the guy to pick up your call.

“Hey, do you have time? I would like to meet you today,” you say, looking directly into Bucky's eyes.

“Of course, do you have condoms, or do we need some?” he asks, and you hear the anticipation in his voice.

“I have some here,” you tell him.

Before the other guy can say something, Bucky rushes over to you, his hand gripping yours with the phone, and you turn your phone towards him.

“She doesn’t have time for you. She is mine, and you better don’t get too close to her again, understand?” Bucky says it angrily.

Your date mumbles something in confusion, but before he can say something, Bucky hangs up and takes your phone to place it on the kitchen counter.

“You pushed the limits,” he groans, his hand finding your hips, and he pulls you closer.

You gasp, placing your hands on his big biceps. He smiles when he sees your small hands wrapped around his big arms. Your little body in front of him and the way his hands capture your hips with his large fingers.

“Do you want me to stop?” Bucky asks, his hands sliding your sides up and down.

“No, please. I need you,” you mumble under his intense stare.

He smiles and lifts you up before he turns around and places you on the kitchen counter behind you. His eyes wander down your body until he reaches your covered cunt, which is pressing against his growing member.

“Mhm, won’t fit properly. It’s too huge for your little pussy, isn’t it? You can’t even take my fingers; you're so small,” Bucky says with a smile.

He adores the way you look so small in front of him and especially underneath him. His hand slides over your stomach, slowly underneath your t-shirt, and he shoves it higher to expose your belly.

Then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and shoves them together with your panties down. Bucky takes a step back and throws them next to him on the floor. His eyes are immediately on your dripping cunt, and the smirk on his lips grows.

“You’re dripping,” he says, his hands sliding along your thighs and up to your cunt.

His hands are soft, and even when one of them is out of vibranium and it’s cooler, you like his touches on your soft skin. Bucky spreads your legs and kneels down, inching closer until you feel his breath against your bare pussy.

“Bucky, please,” you mumble, arching your back.

“What do you want me to do, doll?” he asks, kissing along your thighs.

“Fuck me, please.”

Bucky chuckles and slides two of his fingers through your wet folds. He looks at them, licking your slick off of them, before he lowers his head and kisses your wet pussy.

You moan, gripping his hair to push him further against you. Bucky's tongue glides through your folds until he reaches your entrance. He teases you, kissing along your thighs once more before he kisses your pussy again and pushes his tongue into you.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” you moan, arching your back and placing your legs on each side of his head on his shoulders.

You press your legs together and Bucky more into your cunt; his skills are way better than you thought, and you feel something in your stomach growing, a feeling that is way more pleasurable than ever before. Bucky feels you clenching around his tongue, and he lets go of you.

“Please, I was so close,” you whimper, sliding one of your hands between your legs to bring you over the edge, but he stops you and pushes your hands away.

“Don’t touch yourself when I don’t tell you to do it. And don’t dare to cum before I allow you to cum,” he groans.

He lowers his head and neck between your legs, letting his tongue play with your clit and dipping inside of you before you almost reach your orgasm again. Then he lets go of you and stands up.

You’re just a moaning mess underneath him, and his dick is rock-hard, but he wants to show you what he can give you with just his fingers and his tongue. So he leans over you, admiring your small body again, before his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing slightly.

“You look so pretty,” he tells you, leaning closer to kiss your lips softly.

“I will look prettier when I cum, so fuck me,” you say, pouting.

“I really need to fuck that attitude out of you, but before I do, I will give you my fingers to cum over them,” Bucky says with a smile.

His fingers trail along your stomach until he reaches your pussy. Bucky slowly slides them between your solder, covering them in your slick, before he reaches your entrance and circles it. You push your hips more against his hand, causing his hand around your throat to tighten a bit.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper.

Bucky does what you want; he pushes one of his fingers inside of you. He groans when your tight walls immediately clench around his big finger.

“My needy little slut, soaking but so fucking tight.”

You moan when he adds a finger and moves them deeper inside of you, curling them before pulling them out of you. Bucky looks into your eyes when he pushes his fingers back into you and hits your sweet spot. Your eyes roll back, and you arch your back. Your hands grip his arm around your throat, and you squeeze it.

“There you are,” he mumbles, and he finds the spot inside of you again.

Bucky pushes his fingers with every thrust against that point. You breathe heavily, feeling your orgasm growing in your stomach.

“Please, please let me cum,” you whimper, clenching around his fingers and moving your hips against him.

“Cum, doll. Cum all over my fingers,” he demands.

You moan, his fingers hitting all the right spots inside of you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside of you, thrusting them faster.

“Cum, now,” he repeats, and you do.

You cum all over his fingers; you’re squirting. His name leaves your lips when you make a mess all over his fingers and his shirt. Bucky towers still over you, smirking about the way your eyes roll back, your moans leave your lips, and the way you arch your back when you cum. He loves it, and he definitely fucks you until you squeeze his dick and let him pump you full with his seeds. Bucky fucks you through your orgasm before he pulls his hand out of your pussy and sucks his fingers clean.

“You made a mess all over me, doll. But you taste good,” Bucky smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his. “You still think your little fingers are better than mine?"

You shake your head. Bucky removes his hand from your throat, and he helps you sit up on the kitchen counter. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Yours are way better,” you smirk. “But stop being mean when I have a date.”

“I’m not mean anymore, because you're mine now,” he tells you, picking you up before he walks out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

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steddie-island · 4 months ago

Text

Risky Business

Written for @steddie-week day 2 | Prompt: Hands Rating: M | WC: 2,027 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, season 2, shotgunning, dry humping, coming in pants, cheating (if you squint) Find full list of tags on ao3 | Divider credit

“Watch it, Harrington!”

Steve didn't even turn around to see who was yelling at him. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The words reverberated in his head, echoed in the empty hollow of his chest where his heart used to be.

"Like we're in love?"

It was too fucking much. There were monsters, and Barb was dead, and Nancy wasn't in love with him, and—

“Harrington!”

“What!” Steve spun around and came face to face with one Eddie Munson. He definitely didn't need this shit right now, either, whatever Eddie was trying to do.

“Jesus, who pissed in your cheerios?” Eddie held his hand out, where Steve's keyring dangled from one finger. “I was giving these back, but if that's how it's gonna be.”

Steve swiped for them, but Eddie already had them folded back into the palm of his hand and was walking towards the house again.

“Just— hand them over.” Steve tried to make another grab for them, but Eddie was too fast, the shithead. “Munson, I'm in a really bad goddamn mood, okay?”

Eddie lifted his free hand to his head, rubbed at the back of his neck. “How much have you had to drink?”

Steve blinked at him. “I'm fine to drive.”

“That's not an answer, big boy, and I'm afraid it would be against the Munson code to let you do something stupid like that.” Steve swiped for his keys again, but then Eddie was turning, rearing his arm back— and Steve watched as his keys went flying.

“What the fuck !” Steve wanted to shove him, wanted to wipe the stupid smile right off of his stupid fucking face.

“I'll help you find them later,” Eddie said. “C'mon, man. You're clearly not in any shape to drive. Let me take you home.”

Steve wanted to say no. He wanted to kick and scream and argue but how the fuck else was he supposed to get home now? Just the thought of sticking around long enough to see Jonathan pour Nancy into his car made his stomach twist.

He could walk, but he was so tired . It washed over him all at once, and Steve's entire body sort of slumped. “Fine. You're paying if we don't find them, though.”

Eddie looked surprised, like he hadn't expected Steve to give in so fast. Still he bowed, gestured ahead of them. “Right this way, sir.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Steve shook his head, bringing his cheek to rest against the window. “Not really.”

”Okay.” Eddie reached over and turned the radio on. The music was heavier than what Steve usually listened to, but that actually helped get him out of his head. There was going to be a breakdown, and a big one, but he needed it to not happen here, in Eddie Munson's van.

Eddie fidgeted. Steve could tell he wanted to talk, to say somthing, anything , to get rid of the silence between them.

“Does... Wheeler have a way to get home?”

Steve wished Eddie would've kept his big mouth shut.

“She's fine,” he said flatly. Emotionless. He couldn't think about Nancy, about bullshit, bullshit, bullshit .

“Shit— hey, I'm sorry, man.” Eddie was really fidgeting now, and— fuck.

Steve wiped away traitorous tears and cleared the lump out of his throat. “I'm fine,” he said, snappier than he meant to. It wasn't Eddie's fault he was losing his cool.

“Clearly. Totally fine,” Eddie said, nodding. He seemed to think about it, fingers drumming against his steering wheel again— did he ever sit still? Then they were turning away from Steve's house, towards the edge of town.

“C'mon, man, I'm fine, just—”

“Trust me,” Eddie said. His eyes flicked over to Steve again. “This is better than going home.“

Steve had been to Lover's Lake before, but never in the back of Eddie Munson's van. They'd parked, and Eddie had lit up a preroll. Whatever was in it, Steve wasn't feeling any pain anymore.

They were floating together, weightless in the back of the van on the pile of blankets Eddie had spread out for them. Steve's hair hung away from his face as he watched the way the night sky reflected in the water.

There were no dead girls here, no alternate universes with monsters ready to rip them to shreds.

There wasn't a bat driven through with nails that looked rusty with old monster blood rotting away in his trunk.

There were just stars, and the music pouring softly through the speakers now. And Eddie, warm and sturdy by his side, with their pinkies barely touching.

"Fuckin' love this song," Eddie said. Steve didn't recognize it, though the thrum of the guitar made his already fuzzy brain vibrate pleasantly.

"Think you've said that about every song we've listened to," Steve murmured. His tongue was heavy and thick in his mouth. He reached for the joint, giggled when his fingers didn't want to work and he nearly dropped it.

"Lemme help you." Eddie rolled over, pressed the butt of if it to Steve's lips. His fingers were dry and warm. Steve's eyes nearly crossed as he tried to watch those fingertips. He was so distracted he almost forgot to actually inhale.

"Never woulda taken King Steve for a lightweight," Eddie teased. His voice was giggly, too, as he leaned back, brought the joint to his own mouth and took a long pull.

Steve couldn't stop watching his fingers, the glint of the light on his rings as he lifted a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"You still with me?" Eddie asked. He lightly bumped his foot against Steve's and gave him a teasing smile.

"Yeah, 'm with you," Steve said. He reached up to touch one of Eddie's rings without really thinking about it. "You have nice hands." His fingers were long, slender. Musician's hands, complete with callouses that Steve had the odd desire to get his lips on.

Maybe the bitten nails weren't a musician thing, just an Eddie thing, but that didn't change the fact that Steve kind of wanted to kiss those fingertips.

"Yeah? You like, big boy?" Normally Eddie wouldn't have risked flirting with the straight jock high off his ass in the back of the van but Harrington didn't feel like a threat. He waved his hand lazily and watched Steve's gaze follow along like there was a slight delay between what Eddie was doing and Steve brain processing it.

"Yeah." Steve reached up to catch Eddie's wrist, to stop him from moving his hand around. "I do." He trailed his fingertips over Eddie's palm then outlined one finger at a time.

If anyone had told Eddie that morning that he would end the day holding hands with a stoned Steve Harrington at Lover's Lake he would've laughed in their face and asked if they needed a ride to the hospital. Here he was, though, with the ex king threading their fingers together, pressing palm flush against palm.

A shaky breath slipped out of Steve's chest. He pulled their hands closer so he could run his fingers over Eddie's rings, then up along his knuckles.

Eddie watched Steve with heavy lidded eyes. They were just holding hands— at least, he thought this weird thing Steve was doing where he followed the lines where their hands touched counted as holding hands— but there was something about it that felt intimate.

Maybe it was the way Steve's lips were parted, and the peek of pink as his tongue wet his lower lip. Maybe it was the way Steve was eyeing their clasped hands like he wanted to fucking bite them.

Or like he was holding Eddie's hand to keep from doing just that.

"Harrington." Eddie nudged Steve with his foot again. "Sure you're with me?"

Those warm eyes met Eddie's again. Steve didn't answer, he just watched Eddie's face in a way that made the other boy feel cut open and exposed. It was a feeling Eddie didn't get often, a feeling he really didn't know how to be comfortable with.

So Eddie did the first thing that came to mind that wasn't just staring right back. He took a hit off of the joint, never taking his eyes off of Steve's. He didn't let the smoke out and instead leaned in to almost press their lips together, and once Steve opened his mouth, he let the smoke pass between them.

Steve made an injured sound. Before Eddie could pull back to check on him a hand was in his hair, and then they were kissing. It was desperate, tongues and teeth meeting and clashing.

"Eddie," Steve panted before tipping his head back so Eddie's mouth could be on his throat instead.

Eddie wanted to mark him. He wanted to bite and suck and leave traces of himself all over this ridiculous jock. He had just enough mind left to not let himself do that, and instead he dragged his tongue over Steve's pulsepoint before giving his earlobe a gentle tug.

"Oh fuck —" Steve pulled him in, licked into Eddie's mouth again and ground against the thigh now settled between his own legs.

There was an urgency in the way Steve's hips moved, in the way he kissed at Eddie's neck before biting down, unafraid to mark the way Eddie had been.

Eddie cursed and rocked down, meeting those hungry little movements. They were going to come together, ruin their clothes together. He should stop it, should remind Steve that he was drunk and there was maybe a girlfriend waiting for him when the sun came up.

Then Steve tugged down the collar of his shirt and those perfect fucking teeth were digging into his collar bone. Eddie cried out at the flash of pain and pleasure as he spilled into his boxers.

Steve anchored a hand into Eddie's hair and pulled him in to kiss him again. His movements picked up, became something more firm against Eddie's thigh.

Eddie was going to remember the sound Steve made as he was coming for the rest of his life.

They settled together on their nest of blankets, with the come drying into the fabric of their clothes and in their pubic hair. Eddie barely dared to breathe, in case Steve decided to kick his ass once he'd come back to himself more. Steve didn't do that, though. Instead he took Eddie's wrist and brought his hand to his mouth, to kiss the underside of each of his three chunky rings before resting Eddie's hand on his chest.

"I should get home."

They cleaned up as much as they could with the napkins fished out of the glovebox. The blankets were left in a pile in the back to be dealt with later.

Steve seemed more calm on the drive back to the Harrington house. Some of the edge Eddie had noticed when they'd first ran into each other seemed to have been smoothed out, whether by the weed or the orgasm or a mix of the two he wasn't sure.

Only once they were parked did Steve remember— "Fuck." He looked up at his house, with all the dark windows staring down at him. "I don't have my keys."

"Actually…" Eddie reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and came up holding Steve's keys.

"You sneaky bastard." Steve took the keys and turned them over as if inspecting that they really were his.

"I really didn't feel like sneaking around Tina's house and having her call the cops on me. Just had to make you think I'd thrown them."

Steve watched Eddie's face in the dashboard light. Tomorrow he would have to talk to Nancy, he knew. It was going to hurt— already his chest ached with what they had to do, what he'd been refusing to accept had been coming for a while now.

But maybe it didn't have to hurt forever. Maybe he didn't have to hurt forever.

"Good night, sneaky bastard." Steve reached over and squeezed Eddie's knee before slipping out of the van.

"Night, Steve," Eddie said. He sat there watching until Steve was safely inside.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #steddieweek2024 #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #kintsugi_kid ao3

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aurorawritestoescape · 4 months ago

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DESTINIES INTERTWINED

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucilla

Summary: you spend a passionate night with your lovers.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, mff, unspecified age gap, soft!Marcus, soft!Lucilla, polyamorous relationship, praise, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, mention of lactation, power imbalance. Sorry for any inaccuracies about Ancient Rome. Pics are only for the mood, reader has hair, but no other physical description.

Word count: 3k

A/n: should I even explain myself? A horny goblin inside me wrote it. Hope you will like it! Love you all!💖

Soft Marcus kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

You hear him before you see him. His heavy steps echo through the vast halls of the palace and reach your ears even through the soft music that the servants are playing. Then the bedroom doors loudly open and he enters the room— a warrior, a leader, a conqueror, ready to discard the worries of his day, to offer rest to his mind and soul.

Lucilla and you lying on the bed, leaning on the pillows and holding each other close. You two have been kissing and talking quietly from time to time but the atmosphere, a perfect image of leisure and softness mere moments ago, gets electrified, charged with masculine energy. The servants leave immediately, knowing well that General Marcus Acacius does not allow anyone to see what he does to his women.

You can never believe how generously the gods blessed you. After a life of slavery and abuse you are now cherished as if you’re of noble descent. Even better, you feel loved.

Marcus freed you from the brutal hands of your owner and though you still are enslaved to an outside eye, you have never felt more free.

The General made you his servant first and you welcomed his order with gratitude. You were happy to serve such an honorable man. He and his wife were kind masters and they did not see an object when they looked at you. They saw a person. Not much time passed before you found yourself in bed with both Marcus and Lucilla. You three quickly became one, regularly drowning each other in pleasure and adoration. So you were not surprised when Mercus suggested intertwining your destinies forever.

You shouldn’t be nervous, having had plenty of time to get used to the General’s overwhelming presence. But his power, his strength, his intelligence and beauty struck you every single time like the first. Your heart is fluttering and you squirm against Lucilla’s shoulder, and always attentive to your mood, the woman envelops you in her arms tighter, sharing more of her warmth with you, while nothing but thin nightgowns separate your bodies.

“Soften your expression, my love. You’re scaring our little rose.”

Marcus pauses discarding his gear and turns to you, eyes piercing and dark reading your features.

“Is it the truth, my beautiful girl? Am I still a scare for you?” he asks, walking up slowly to the bed. His voice is gruff, molded by countless battles, but for the two of you it’s silky and soft.

“No, General.. Marcus,” you reply in a soft voice, big eyes looking up at the man with adoration and piety. The sound of his name on your lips and your devoted gaze do the trick— his face softens and he gives you a warm smile. You smile back shyly and Lucilla pecks your temple, laughing,

“Our General can be quite intimidating. Yet you and I know that he is as gentle as a warm summer breeze. For us.”

Marcus smirks and continues taking off his gear and undergarments and soon he’s standing naked next to the bed— a broad torso, strong, defined muscles glistening softly in the dim candle light, his big heavy cock swaying with every move. The sight of him takes your breath away.

He leans down and kisses his wife first as his chest hovers over you and the scent of rose oils caresses your senses.

Then it is your turn and he watches your face for a few seconds before he greets the beginning of a passionate night with you, planting a gentle kiss on your lips.

“How are my loves?” He asks, sitting down on the bed, facing you two, as you lick your lips, savoring his taste.

“She’s ready. Bona Dea favors us— the time is perfect,” Lucilla hurries to inform him, excitement painting her every word, “I played with her during the washing. She must come as much as possible for the seed to stick.”

Your cheeks start burning and your chest is heaving as you avert your gaze from the man in front of you but Marcus pinches your chin and gently lifts your face to his, searching for your eyes.

“Nothing to be shy about, my heart. You will give me.. give us a son, my heir and our destinies, mine, yours and Lucilla’s will be intertwined forever.”

His lips curve in a warm smile and you relax, taking a big calming breath. A whimper escapes your lips when his hand slides from your face to your chest and then belly. He puts his palm over it, rubbing it with his thick thumb and the heat of his touch, warming your skin through the sheer fabric, ignites your core and paints your face with need and desire.

“Yes, Marcus. I wish for nothing more.”

“Sweet little rose,” he coos at you and hunches down so he could press his face to your covered mound. The General takes a deep breath and you open your legs wider so he could revel in the scent of your arousal.

“Our beautiful rose,” his wife echoes, “Give her one more before we start, my love. I shall assist you.”

You turn your head to look at Lucilla’s gorgeous face, your eyes full of lust and gratitude and you reach for her to kiss you. She smiles and soon her soft lips are caressing yours, her tongue is licking into your whimpering mouth and you gasp against her lips when her husband latches onto your bare cunt.

Bunching up your nightgown over your waist Marcus is feasting on your sweet nectar, flowing generously from your clenching hole. Lucilla drew an orgasm from you mere minutes before and he’s reaping the fruit of her labor.

When he starts sucking on your puffy clit, you part from the woman’s lips and direct your gaze at the General eating you out, his lips and tongue celebrating your pussy, methodically bringing you to your high.

Overwhelmed by the sight of this man, strong and powerful, sliding his warm tongue through your glistening folds, you softly moan. Soon your whimpers fill the room as you're writhing in bed, running your fingers through his silky curls.

"She's close, my love, do not stop," Lucilla tells her husband and her hand slithers to your chest and pulls down the neckline of your nightgown.

She gently cups your breast and her fingers twitch your pebbled nipple. You moan as her touch sends a new surge of wetness to your entrance for her husband to lap up.

Marcus’s obsidian eyes flick up to the sight of his wife playing with your tits and he parts from your cunt to ask,

“Will you give me an honor to taste your milk when it’s time, my little rose? I would love your sweet breasts to nourish me, just like your little cunt is nourishing me right now.”

You moan at his words and eagerly nod, biting your lower lip, and Marcus’s slick-coated mouth curves into a content smile.

Lucilla whispers, “We love you,” against your temple and they continue pleasuring you, her hands kneading your breasts, his mouth on your soft pussy and soon you’re coming, shaking against Lucilla’s body, as she’s praising you throughout, while Marcus is quenching his thirst with your plentiful juices.

When he lifts his head his bearded chin and mustache are shining with the evidence of your ecstasy and you reach your arms towards him to pull him close and lick it off his face. Lucilla rushes to help you and soon the three of you are kissing, tongues and lips moving passionately in this lustful dance of three. You’re comforted by their bodies, caging you against each other, and you wish for this moment to last forever.

They give you only a moment of respite before Marcus takes your nightgown off and wraps his throbbing cock in his big veiny hand. He pumps it with a few languid strokes and you swallow loudly, watching his huge manhood grow even bigger. Marcus cups your cheek with a free hand and coos,

“Don't fret, little rose. You’ve taken me before. I promise to be slow and gentle.”

“Lie down between my legs, my love, so I could feel every thrust Marcus gives you,” Lucilla purrs, helping you to shift and you happily lean your back on her chest as she wraps her arms around you.

“This time it will take, I know it,” Lucilla continues, as her palms are gliding over your shoulders, breasts and belly in a calming gesture but your cunt tingles again at her soft touch.

Marcus lies between your spread thighs, his hard cock pressed to your mound, and gifts you another heady kiss, reminding you of his love and care.

“You’re strong, my love. You shall receive my seed and grow a new life for us three. You shall be mine forever.”

You breathe out a quiet ‘yes’ and he brushes your cheek with his lips at the same time pushing the tip of his cock into your soaked hole. You already feel the dull stretch and grasp Lucilla’s arms enveloping you and she whispers,

“I shall help you, little rose.”

Her hand slithers between Marcus’s and your bodies and she finds your throbbing clit, soaked with your cum and her husband’s saliva. She begins rubbing it in tight circles, murmuring in your ear,

“Relax, my precious, open up for him. Let Marcus fill you up with his seed. Sometimes I wish I had a cock too so we both could make you full with cum.”

You mewl, hearing her words, while the General thrusts in, close to bottoming out, and the fullness, the stretch that he bestows on you, quickly overwhelms you and your head whips to the side as your needy eyes search for your female lover.

“I need you,” you admit with a weak voice and she smiles down at you and moves your torso slightly to the side, freeing her chest.

She takes her breast out of her sheer nightgown and brings your face closer. You take a sharp breath at the sight of her beautiful tit and latch onto her puffy nipple. You flutter your eyes shut with pleasure, enjoying the sweetness of her skin, as she’s holding you close to feed you her breast better, while her husband’s cock prods deeper and deeper inside your wet hot cunt.

Her bud hardens in your mouth and she starts moaning while you’re licking it, swirling your tongue around and then suckling on the nipple. She knows how much you love it, the feeling so comforting and ecstatic, you whimper as your pussy gushes around Marcus’s cock.

The man grunts and growls, thrusting his fat stiffness little by little inside you,

“Oh gods, you are just as tight as our first night together. Remember, little rose, how long it took me to fully sheath my cock into your sweet cunt?” You move just your eyes to glance at him, not parting from his wife’s tit, and hum in agreement.

“I shall be slow now as well.” His voice is strained and he grinds his teeth, trying not to pierce you with his girthy length in one go, desperately wishing to bottom out but holding up for the sake of your comfort.

Finally his heavy balls slap your ass and you both moan loudly as his tip gives a kiss to your cervix. You feel so full and happy, your lips leave Lucilla’s breast and you take Marcus’s face in your hands to kiss him. The giant man moans as your soft mouth thanks him for the gift of his cock and you can’t make yourselves part from one another, reveling in the taste of your love and desire. He twitches deep inside you and not tearing his lips from yours he begins rolling his hips, fucking you slowly and gently, massaging his length with your snug walls and it feels like he fucks into your belly, into your soul and heart, so deep that you hold your breath, afraid to move, scared he will split you in two with the might of his manhood.

Judging by her soft moans, Lucilla senses his thrusts, as if he’s fucking both of you, and soon she starts grinding her pussy against your ass and you feel her wetness smeared on your skin.

Marcus’s heavy cock drugs in and out of your hole, caressing your core and pushing on the pleasure spot inside you. But you can not be that selfish as to enjoy this beautiful and hopefully fruitful night without your other lover so you part from the General’s mouth to murmur,

“Lucilla, I want—.”

“What is it, my love?” the woman behind you asks and Marcus pauses his movements to let you speak.

“I wish— wish to feel you on my tongue.”

Your voice is barely audible as shyness overtakes you but it’s loud enough for your lovers to hear.

“You wish to…,” Lucilla starts but you interrupt her. “Yes, sit on my face. Please,” you plea as you turn your head to look at her.

They’re quick to fulfill your wish and soon Lucilla gets from under you and plants her knees on the sides of your face. Her cunt is hovering over your mouth, as she’s facing her husband, who’s still buried deep in your heat. She discards her sheer nightgown and you take a sharp breath, as her gorgeous naked body blesses your vision. Her glistening folds are calling for you to taste them. So you pull her down with your hands on her thighs and, after opening up as wide as possible, you cover her cunt with the warmth of your mouth. You hungrily lick a path from her clit to her hole and gather all the wetness off her hot skin. She doesn’t let you wait long and soon she’s gushing more onto your waiting tongue.

“My little rose!” She gasps, surprised by your eagerness and lust, “So good to us,” she coos at you while her fingers are running through your hair. The woman moans when your tongue prods her hole and you slide it deeper while your hands knead her asscheeks and thighs.

“Is it nice, my love? Is our little rose making you happy?” Marcus asks his wife, who’s moving her body up and down now, fucking herself on your tongue.

“Oh, yes,” she breathes out and throws her head back in ecstasy.

You don’t see Marcus but you feel him, so much of him as he’s thrusting his cock into you with steady and deep strokes.

“You two are perfect and you’re mine,” he growls, “I am thankful to the gods for giving me both of you.”

Then you feel his big hands on your breasts and he begins caressing your nipples with his calloused fingers, making you whimper against his wife’s cunt.

“Wish your tits were full of milk already. The warm nectar would trickle down my hands right now,” he accentuates his words, kneading your breasts, “When you bare my child I shall make sure to have you on my cock and in my mouth every day, to devour your sweet cunt whenever you wish.”

His words make your heart and pussy flatter and he grunts, as his cock twitches deep in your core. Marcus increases the pace at which his stiffness is spearing you again and again and you grab Lucilla’s thighs to keep yourself from sliding up the bed.

“My love, her mouth is heaven,” the woman moans, addressing her husband and the next moment you hear their lips moving against each other. His cock, stuffing your soaked cunt, your tongue in her wet hole, the sensations pull you to the heights of pleasure and, overwhelmed with ove and lust, you come, moaning loudly, your sweet noises muffled by Lucilla’s cunt.

It sets a chain reaction and your walls, clamping around Marcus’s cock, make him explode and he begins shooting his hot load deep into your contracting core. He quickly fills you up and soon you hear the lewd noises of your cunt, squelching with his every thrust.

You desperately wish for Lucilla to come with you too and, still trembling with ecstasy under their naked bodies, you wrap your lips around her clit and suck, lick, flick it with the tip of your tongue bringing her higher to meet Marcus and you there. Soon you’re successful and she cries out your name until Marcus kisses her and drinks her moans.

When she stills, her cunt leaves your mouth and she lies down on the bed next to you.

You finally set your eyes on the General and marvel at his beauty — his strong muscles are bulging, the skin, dewy with sweat, is almost glowing in the warm candle light, his curls are tousled and some have fallen on his forehead. Your lover is panting heavily, descending from his hard climax. He gives you a warm smile as he coos,

“Look at you, my beautiful rose, your lips are coated with the evidence of Lucilla’s love for you. Let me…”

With that he leans down not pulling out and kisses you, licking the slick of your lips and chin.

“Do not spill the seed, my love,” Lucilla warns him and he hums against your mouth.

“Never, not a drop shall fall,” he mumbles, as his lips part from yours, “Your full cunt shall be plugged by my cock all night, little rose.”

You nod, barely having any strength to do so, and he carefully lies down next to you, gently turning your body on your side and you feel Lucilla’s arms embrace you from behind. Marcus’s manhood is still in your stretched hole and he puts your leg over thigh and bucks his hips to plug you better.

You revel in their warmth, adoration and love, resting between your lovers. They start talking about your future together, your baby and how they are going to take care of you two and you drift off with a happy and hopeful smile on your face.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback motivates me so much!❤️

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging some lovelies who commented on the Wip post @ozarkthedog @fruityreads @604to647 @corazondebeskar-reads

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #pedro pascal x reader #gladiator 2 #Lucilla

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munson-blurbs · 8 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine

If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.

Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.

They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed.

“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval.

He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no.

“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present.

Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears.

Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.

“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”

You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile.

People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”

While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation.

“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly.

“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”

Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”

You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents.

I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time.

That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.

You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit.

Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec.

“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.

“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”

Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.”

“Not a Eurodance fan?”

His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm.

Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.

Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.

Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?

“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station.

Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation.

“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song.

Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath.

“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”

The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”

Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position.

It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.

“That was my band.”

Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”

“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.

“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.

A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.

“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.

“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”

You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.

“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.”

You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical?

That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness.

“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”

That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?

“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”

You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.

“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.”

He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”

Girlfriend?

It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all.

“How about you?”

His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”

“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night.

You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”

You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.

“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.

Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted.

Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit.

You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”

One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted.

You stayed there.

He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”

Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast.

Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?

With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”

His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.

Maybe next time.

You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.

“You’re really not gonna talk?”

You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.

“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay.

“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…”

You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”

“For what?”

Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”

“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him.

“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing.

Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”

“Social worker.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.

With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.

You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.

“Hi!”

You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.

“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?

Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.

You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”

Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”

Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week.

“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”

This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.

“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”

“Mhm.”

Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”

Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it.

“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.

You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.”

The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name.

“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door.

“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp.

Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”

“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”

The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.

“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.

The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren’t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.

Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.

Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”

“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”

He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair.

“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”

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sansaorgana · 11 days ago

Text

— DECEPTION (VI)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your marriage is slowly getting better and more intimate as you become the Dark Lady of Mordor and you have the Orcs' respect. While dealing with the aftermath of your conquest alongside your husband, you meet a very special prisoner – your lover who has finally returned.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The longest chapter so far but I didn't want to divide it in two separate ones because this fic is already getting longer than I wanted it to be (I suspected this moment of the show would happen in like chapter 3 lmao 🤡). As I have promised, there is finally a reunion between Sauron and the Reader. 💕

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship, every trigger from S02E01 (death of the people imprisoned by the Orcs etc.), it is mentioned that the Reader is lowkey scared (?) of Sauron's anger sometimes, which might imply some sort of domestic violence in their past + mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut)

WORD COUNT — 8,260

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (VI)

You were sitting by the long table full of wine and food that had been found in the cellars of the human villages nearby as the Orcs and the men who had chosen to follow you were partying and celebrating their new home. At least the Orcs looked truly excited about it because the humans were smiling much less and you just knew that most of them were only there to save their own lives. But that was not something you wanted to worry about now. You earned your rest, so you were just sitting next to your husband and picking on the grapes on the plate in front of you with your new sword resting on the chair. You kept glancing at it, proudly.

You focused on the song in Black Speech that the Orcs were singing and you furrowed your brows, understanding only a few words. The speech was not difficult to learn so you already could recognise a few phrases but still, it felt not enough.

“Will you teach me the Black Speech, too?” You asked your husband and Adar didn’t react at first but then he turned his head around to meet your gaze as if he was surprised to hear your question.

You cracked a smile at him. It was not only him who was perceiving you differently now but you were seeing him in a new light as well. He was making you feel powerful and in charge but his very presence was also ensuring your safety and taking some responsibility off of your shoulders. And the more he could teach you, the more useful you would be to Sauron later.

“If that is your wish, my Lady,” Adar nodded at you and reached his hand out for one of the grapes as well but you grasped it delicately, making him look surprised again.

“I have something for you,” you batted your eyelashes at him and smiled shyly as he furrowed his brows. You moved one of your hands lower and showed him the leaves from the holy trees that you had been hiding inside your sleeve. “I picked them earlier today in Ostirith,” you explained.

“What for?” Adar asked and perhaps his question was a little hurtful but the voice remained soft.

“We were wed under these trees. I thought it would mean something to you. Forgive me, my Lord…” You took your hands away and hid them underneath the table, squeezing the leaves and looking down.

Adar lifted your chin up with his thumb and made you look into his eyes. They were filled with adoration once again just like earlier on that day after realising you had truly finished his task and brought doom to your homeland.

“It does. I had no idea it meant anything to you,” he confessed and let go of your chin to open the palm of his hand in front of you. With a smile, you placed some of the leaves there and he clenched his fist to take them. “Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya.

You nodded at him and dared to reach your free hand out to caress his cheek gently, brushing a strand of his black hair behind his ear. He was pretty startled but did not flinch.

“How long have you endured without anyone’s kind and gentle touch before me?” You asked, wondering out loud.

“A touch like this comes from a blurry memory of a long time ago, in a different life,” Adar whispered. “I had a different name then, too.”

“What was it?” You asked, curiously.

“It does not matter. Adar is my name and your husband. That man I once was is a stranger to you, my Lady. He should not concern you,” he explained and you smiled sadly.

“He had to be quite special to be chosen by Morgoth,” you whispered but Adar chuckled as he shook his head. “No?”

“No,” he answered. “Not special. Just a fool.”

You removed your hand from his cheek slowly and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I am exhausted,” you announced. The nap you had in the forest had not been enough after such a long and eventful day. “I shall retire now, my Lord,” you stood up and Adar nodded at you. “Can you tell me what happened to my dear friend Arondir? I forgot to ask you before.”

“I do not know but I do believe he is still alive,” Adar explained and you sighed with relief. Even though Arondir had angered you, now when you were calmer and back to your senses, you worried a little again.

“I hope he is away from here and builds a new life for himself,” you said out loud, squeezing Adar’s arm before taking your sword and walking out towards the village that you had overtaken earlier.

Adar’s house was the biggest one – right in the centre, near the market square. You had been offered your own next to his but you wanted to share a place with him. There was no need to get a separate house and you had to work on earning more and more of his trust. Especially now it seemed it would become an easier task.

But when you sat on the edge of the bed and began undressing yourself slowly, you sighed after realising that the more you were trying to make him like you, the more you were beginning to like him, too. And it could possibly lead to you feeling guilty later.

In nothing but your underdress, you felt extremely sleepy. You did not even consider waiting for your husband or trying to seduce him. Not on that night, surely.

So, you just laid down under the covers and despite the sounds of the party from afar, you fell asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

You woke up and turned around, surprised to see Adar still in the bed with you. He was laying on his back and asleep. You watched his chest rising up and down for a quiet moment before leaning in to touch him gently. In moments like these, he was the most vulnerable.

But so were you.

Oh, how you missed Sauron. You loved the mornings in his arms; all the sweet kisses and murmured promises, compliments and sweet nothings – all of that while tangling your bodies together to finish whatever had been started on the night before. How you longed to wake up next to him again and brush his hair gently, imagining a crown upon his head.

But on that unusually quiet morning you did not mind being in Adar’s bed either. You woke him up very softly with your touch and he cracked a smile at you when he realised it was his wife bringing him back to reality.

“Forgive me,” you whispered softly. “I am just so surprised to see you in my bed in the morning. Usually, you are always gone before I wake up.”

“Usually,” Adar nodded and cleared his throat. He hesitated before putting his arm around you but you allowed him to do so and you moved closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “It is still very early in the morning and my children were celebrating for a long time last night. The whole village is asleep and we have no more battles to fight for now,” he explained.

“And I like that very much,” you mumbled and laughed softly.

You felt Adar’s fingers caressing your back and you looked up to meet the gaze of his cold eyes. At that moment, they felt nearly kind.

Kind in a very genuine way. Something you had never felt around Sauron when his face had been trying to look kind. Sauron’s rage and hatred had been genuine. His devotion, his love – yes. But never his kindness.

“I saw you with those villagers. You were so cruel,” you breathed out. “And yet, with me, you are so soft. I am far less innocent than any of them.”

“You are my wife,” Adar explained. “My lady,” he added. “Why would I treat you like an enemy?”

If he only knew…

“I want you,” you confessed in the Quenya language and you truly did – you wanted him. It had been centuries since you were so close with a man, yet alone a man in power who treated you so special.

“I can feel it,” he whispered with a nod.

“What have you been waiting for then?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“For you to say it,” he smirked and rolled you over onto your back in one swift movement that made you yelp and chuckle right after.

What a different lover he was from Sauron, too. How surprisingly soft, slow and gentle. Taking his time, observing your reactions to make sure you were feeling alright. In fact, he was focusing more on you than on himself.

Sauron’s worship had been greedy and hungry to the point of pain very often. Not that you had ever minded that pain but you had absolutely no idea that you could be worshipped in a different way as well – attentive and delicate as if you were made of the most precious Elven glass.

In Adar’s eyes you had to be. Despite the seed of evil he could feel in you, he had to see you as something pure and innocent compared to his corrupted and rotten self. You could feel that when he was making love to you like he was trying not to hurt you too much or show you too much of his darkness.

Laying on his chest and catching your breath as his hand caressed the strands of your hair, you were listening to his heartbeat and slowly drifting off back to sleep. The hour was still early and there were no sounds coming from the village.

“Can I ask you something?” He started and you froze for a brief moment, already suspecting the question. He had every right to want to know the truth.

“I know what you are about to ask,” you sighed, looking up at him.

“I am not angry,” he assured you. “You were forced to marry me, I could not have any expectations. And I am not exactly an image of perfection myself but–”

“There was only one before you,” you interrupted him and he closed his mouth, staring down at your face. “One too many for an unwed Elf everyone thought of as smart and innocent.”

“You do not have to tell me,” Adar only whispered.

“It is quite alright,” you shrugged your arms. “I was a very young Elven maiden sent by my parents to study in Mithlond. He was a young Elven boy and we fell in love. At least I thought we had…” You faked a sad smile and looked away with melancholy. “We spent many nights together and I know we should not have done that before the wedding but I was so sure that he would be the one I would be wed to… And, one day, after my classes, I ran into the courtyard where he was standing amongst his friends. And I overheard his announcement of being betrothed to another. I learnt my lesson then,” you shook your head and met your husband’s gaze again. He seemed to be sad for you.

“In the eyes of the Valars, you are wed to him,” he pointed out with a smirk and you knew he was teasing because you had wanted to solidify your union for so long before, meanwhile you had already belonged to another in a way.

“I have never worn his ring or sworn any oath,” you explained. “Like I have for you, my Lord.”

Adar nodded and caressed your cheeks gently before cupping them and leaning down to peck your lips.

“We shall drop the formalities when we are alone,” he suggested.

“I agree,” you nodded and smiled softly.

“Good,” he laid your head down onto his chest again and wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back and took a deep breath in.

“Let us go back to sleep for a short while. We still have time,” you yawned a little and he did not protest as both of you closed your eyes and drifted off once more.

Weeks passed and even though Mordor was your land now, there were many things to do. The land was nothing without its citizens and your realm needed a brand new structure. At first, the Orcs were searching through the forests and villages while looking for the humans who were still wandering around. Some of them would choose to serve Adar and you out of fear.

Your relationship with your husband was developing just like Mordor under your rule. You had some misunderstandings and you still were a bit distant because you had not known each other for very long but you also did not mind to spend time in the company of one another. And you certainly did not mind sharing the same bed although sometimes you simply had no time to get intimate.

Sometimes you had some free time, though. Like right now, your husband was teaching you how to wield your new sword and you groaned while trying to lift it up one more time.

“It is much heavier than any blade I have ever been taught to fight with,” you confessed and Adar chuckled.

“It was crafted by Morgoth,” he reminded you. “It is no ordinary blade,” he moved his own sword close to you but he did that very slowly, so you could defend yourself.

And so you did lock your blade with his but your sword was too heavy to keep it still without your hands slightly trembling.

“It is not only its weight you are carrying but also its history,” Adar pushed his sword further and made you take a step back. “Its darkness.”

“I am aware,” you drawled out through gritted teeth. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you were worthy of carrying it. Therefore, you refused to give up.

“Let me,” Adar retreated all of a sudden and put his sword aside only to approach you and stand behind you as he tried to show you the right position. “While carrying a sword of this sort, you must change your approach a little. It is heavier and it was not crafted with a woman in mind,” he reminded you.

“Oh, so you think I cannot handle it for I am a delicate maiden?” You teased and Adar rolled his eyes slightly.

“I can see that you barely do,” he remarked.

“Lord Father!” One of the Orcs ran up to you and interrupted your little sparring session. “The new prisoners have arrived! Glûg says he has captured someone special!” The Orc added, excitedly.

Adar nodded at him and squeezed your arms before walking away to gather his sword. You waited for him and you both walked to the centre of the village where the prisoners were usually being brought. Adar had some sort of a throne there, made of iron and burnt branches of the trees. It was big enough for you both to sit on it but you preferred to stand by his side either way – that was how your mother had taught you since she had always been standing behind your father.

Adar’s throne was too large for you to simply stand behind him but you just remained by his side with your back straightened and the most serious expression upon your face as that filthy human Waldreg was standing on your left and addressing the prisoners while trying to impress your husband and you with his loyalty.

“Welcome to Mordor,” he announced now and you gave Adar a meaningful look, cracking a smile. He smiled back at you before you two went back to your usual, serious expressions. “Work its land well and you’ll be fed well,” Waldreg continued. “Work it badly and you’ll feed the soil,” he finished his little introduction as he addressed one of the new prisoners – a poor looking villager. “You, lad, do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks and Dark Lady of Mordor?” He asked.

Dark Lady of Mordor – that was how they were calling you now. It was not a name you had given yourself or chosen but it was the name you had earned by being the one who had opened the dam. You had been the one to create Mordor and as much as this title was making you feel proud and strong, you also wondered what Sauron’s reaction to it would be.

Would he accept the fact that you ruled over something yourself, too? Or would he be angry that you dared to?

The poor villager hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. Therefore, you had to watch the Orcs attack and murder him by sticking the blade into his stomach as he groaned in pain.

At first, such images had been dreadful. But now you were growing used to it and it was a good thing – a good sign. By Sauron’s side you would have to endure much more.

“It is the Southlands no more! In Mordor, ya bow or ya bleed,” Waldreg reminded all the prisoners and then he looked at another one coming your way. “Right, you there. Do you swear allegiance to Adar and his lady?”

The man fell down to his knees and bowed his head. And when he did that, the Orcs took him by his elbows to mark him with a branding iron. An image nearly as dreadful as the other villager getting murdered but this one at least could live.

Although what a life it would be?

You did not care. You were standing on the other side – by Adar’s throne, wearing a blood red gown and a small headpiece made of iron that some of the Orcs had crafted for you from the swords they had found amongst the dead bodies. It had been their gift for giving them home.

You spotted Glûg leading another prisoner your way and this one had to be that special one that he had mentioned to his friends. He was also being kept still in chains and with an iron collar around his neck. Looking like an ordinary man – but quite handsome, you had to admit – yet, he seemed to keep his dignity amongst all this chaos.

You felt it. The twist in your gut, the change of the air around you. The disturbance of energy, the same pulling force that you had felt before while hiding inside a hut in the forest. Sauron was back.

Sauron was here.

Trying to keep yourself composed, you looked up with your jaw clenched and back straightened and then your eyes locked with the man’s blue ones. And the gasp you tried to stop from escaping your lips had nearly made your rib cage explode.

It nearly felt wrong and surely it did feel surreal to meet with your lover again. To be in his presence and be looked at through his eyes. All those centuries of yearning and missing him, you had always imagined your next meeting differently.

First of all, you had never imagined him in a different form but the man in front of you was not the Sauron you had remembered. His hair was no longer ginger but it was brown now and he looked like a human. His face belonged to a different person but that did not change anything for it had never been his body or his flesh that you loved the most. It had been his mind and his power.

Second of all, you had always imagined him coming to you in all his glory, taking you away and sweeping you off of your feet. You had never suspected he would come to you in chains, dirty from the mud, looking like a beaten dog. And yet, here he stood.

And you had to fight every fibre of your being from running up to him. From releasing him and kissing every inch of his body, from devouring him and praising him, holding him as close as you could…

You adjusted yourself slightly and spotted that his eyes squinted. He was observing you and he looked quite intrigued with your new position.

“The King of the Southlands turned himself in, Lord Father,” Glûg announced and led Sauron by the chain attached to the collar around his neck to make him stand in front of you and your husband.

The King of the Southlands… You pursed your lips. Your husband had mentioned him to you before when he had been describing to you what happened during the attack of the Númenóreans. He had mentioned a human named Halbrand who had arrived from Númenor alongside Lady Galadriel and the cavalry. That he had claimed to be from the forgotten bloodlines of the kings.

You had been intrigued by that man from your husband’s stories already but now there was no mystery around it anymore. It was obvious to you that this persona was nothing but your lover’s scheme.

And that when you had felt his presence back then, inside the hut, he truly had been around. But you had been reaching out to him, you had been trying your best to contact him and yet… There had been no answer.

Or maybe there was. Perhaps Sauron coming back here as Halbrand was the answer to your calling.

“Says he wants to negotiate,” Glûg added and you did your best to appear as contemptuous and angry as you snorted at that.

“Human king,” you mocked his title, trying to avoid his eyes at first because even though you were putting on an act, you were still scared of your lover’s rage. “There is no such a thing,” you finally met his intense gaze and at first it startled you but you continued your little show. “The reign of a human king is always short and weak for his body rots quickly and his mind gets corrupted fast,” you explained with contempt.

Halbrand did not say anything to that. He kept staring intensely at you and Adar. In fact, he gave you a hateful stare that caused a shiver down your spine. You hoped it was nothing but a play-pretend.

“Let my people go,” he finally said in a very determined tone.

But those were not his people because he was no king. However, you had to pretend that you believed him. Waldreg and Glûg laughed at his words and you looked up at Adar.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realised that your husband was very suspicious. The way he was staring at Halbrand was making it clear that he simply knew that this man was more than he was claiming to be. And now you knew that no slip-ups from you were allowed in your little game.

“Or yours will die,” Halbrand added calmly and perhaps his threat meant nothing to the Orcs surrounded there but you knew that he was capable of hurting everyone here without using much, therefore you did not laugh.

Adar finally reacted, however, as he looked away with a slight eye-roll.

“My people defeated the men of these lands,” he reminded Halbrand. “We defeated the Elves who came to their aid,” he stood up from his throne. “We even defeated their allies, the men from beyond the sea,” he walked down and approached Halbrand as you held your breath as seeing your husband and your lover so close and face-to-face was making you feel physically sick. “There is no one left for us to fear,” Adar added.

“There is one,” Halbrand teased and you tilted your head, wondering what his game was. “Since Galadriel’s defeat, she sought out a new ally. An ancient sorcerer, to instruct the Elves in forging a new weapon,” he started and you grew more and more curious of his scheme, so you approached your husband.

You stood right behind him as you wrapped your hands around one of his arms like a dutiful and loyal wife that you were.

“One you first told her about. A power over flesh,” Halbrand continued and you just knew that all this talking so freely about… well, himself, just had to be a part of a scheme much greater and bigger than what you could have even imagined or suspected.

You felt Adar’s body tensing and you squeezed his arm tighter, trying to show him support and comfort.

“Do you remember those words?” Halbrand kept toying with him. “A power that will allow him to use your children as slaves in his army once more.”

“Ignore him,” you quickly spoke before Halbrand could continue. “He is playing with you, my Lord, can’t you see? He is using your fear against you but he is not worthy of our time. A human king?” You snorted. “Most likely a liar.”

“Set my people free and I will tell you where he can be found,” Halbrand cut you out immediately after, giving you no time to speak anymore. “So you can destroy him and rid us both of his evil,” his voice quivered, pretending to be scared.

“No, Your Majesty,” Adar shook his head after giving you a quick glance and moving away from you, forcing you to let go of his arm. He took a step further to be even closer to Halbrand but you made sure to overhear everything. “You will tell me everything you think you know of this sorcerer now… Or I will spill the words from your throat,” he threatened.

“If I die, all that I know dies with me,” Halbrand answered calmly. “You can’t kill me.”

“In time, you will beg me to,” Adar whispered to him and you reached out for his arm once more, sensing his nervousness.

You pulled him closer to you and that was when Waldreg punched Halbrand, which made you look away. Seeing your lover being treated this way was making you feel physical pain as well. You couldn’t bear to watch how that filthy human dared to treat him and how he dragged him away to one of the houses that would now serve as Halbrand’s prison.

“He has upset you,” you caressed Adar’s arm, trying to focus on him now.

“You know why,” your husband answered.

“What he said, Lord Father,” worried Glûg interrupted you two. “Sauron… could never return, could he?

“No. Sauron is dead,” Adar lied to him, shaking his head. “Your Lady was right. That man was trying to use our weakness against us,” he added and walked away but you furrowed your brows and followed him.

Grabbing Adar by his sleeve, you pulled him behind you and led him around the corner of the house nearby.

“You know it is not true,” you whispered into his face, your noses brushing each other as he kept staring at you with a puzzled expression. “When we were in Ostirith, you had received messages that were making you think Sauron was back. I thought those messages were from your children. What are you hiding from me?” You asked, perhaps a bit too aggressively.

“I hide nothing,” Adar answered, way softer than you. “The news my scouts had been sending to me… They had no idea about their meaning and I was not sharing my suspicions with anyone but you. I did not want to worry my children and I do not want to do that now either,” he explained. “That man, Halbrand… I have a feeling he might know something. If my suspicions are true and Sauron is back, I will have to tell the news to the Uruk. And we will have to march again for I shall not rest until he is defeated.”

You took a step back, giving him his personal space as you fixed your gown nonchalantly and cleared his throat.

“I am sorry. I do not like being kept in the darkness,” you tried to make up excuses for yourself. Of course your rapid reaction was the result of the fact that the matter was about your lover. But Adar could not know that.

“I am glad you asked me in private instead of calling me out in front of Glûg,” Adar nodded at you and held your wrists gently. “That was very thoughtful.”

You looked up, a little surprised. You had just accused and attacked him and he was thanking you?

“We are a husband and a wife. I might scold you or question you but this is our private matter for nobody else to see,” you cracked a nervous smile and he squeezed your fingers tighter.

“Let us go back, the rest of the prisoners are waiting.”

You nodded at him and took a deep breath in, trying to compose yourself. For some reason, out of the loud noise of all the people around, your ears picked only on the sounds leaving Halbrand’s throat as Waldreg was beating him up. And for the rest of the day you could not stand still, trying to fight the tears pricking your eyes.

Sauron’s pain was your pain.

It was the middle of the night as you gathered your skirts and walked through the mud to get to the house where Halbrand was kept in. Your heart was pounding in your chest as the Orcs guiding the door turned around to look at you.

“Leave us,” you ordered, a little harshly. They looked at each other but they would never dare to question you, so they just walked away.

And only when you could see them disappearing behind one of the buildings, knowing that you were completely alone with Halbrand, you took a deep breath in and pushed the door to walk inside.

You spotted him sitting on the ground, looking miserable and exhausted. For a short moment, you kept staring at each other in complete silence.

“My love…” You whispered in the Quenya language eventually as you dropped to your knees and crawled on the floor towards him. He kept looking at you without any expression on his face. “My love, you’re back… You’re back, I knew you would be… My love, my master, my Sauron,” you whispered the last word nearly inaudibly, cupping his cheeks with the most devoted and hurt expression since it was painful to see him humbled like this.

“Shush, my gentle darling,” he finally spoke to you and you sobbed at his soft voice; filled with so much love and affection still. “You cannot let them hear you,” he added and you nodded, pressing your forehead to his as your tears washed some of the dirt off of his face.

“I have been waiting for you for the centuries. Yearning for you, craving you… With every inch of this body, this soul, this heart…” You were assuring him between deep gasps of air even though this very morning you had shared your body with your husband.

But it was all for the grand scheme of your lover. It did not matter, did it?

“I called for you… On that day when I made the mountain erupt. I called for you,” you moved away slightly to be able to look at his face better.

“I know,” Halbrand cracked a smile. “My love, you have to trust my plan. Although I can see you have taken the matters into your own hands.”

“I have been forced to but I saw an opportunity,” you nodded through the tears, brushing his hair with your fingertips. “An opportunity for you.”

“That is good. You are the most devoted and cunning lover just like I taught you,” he said.

“Tell me, my love, tell me what to do now. Give me orders and I shall follow them until we are united again as–” your voice quivered again as you hesitated.

Perhaps it was because of his current state, perhaps it was because of the centuries of separation and perhaps it was because he was in a new form that you had not grown used to yet but… He seemed to be more distant than you remembered. A bit colder despite his gentle words.

“Say it,” you pleaded. “Say it again and I shall do whatever you ask me of,” you promised.

Sauron looked you up and down and his lips curled up in a smile. He tried to reach out for you as if he had forgotten his hands were in shackles. You shushed him and caressed his wounded wrists wherever you could reach.

“I shall make you my Queen,” he whispered. “All Middle-earth will be brought to its knees to worship you by my side, my love,” he added and you sobbed some more. “The very thought of you has been the only thing that kept me alive for so many centuries. To know that I have to return to you gave me strength. I craved your touch for eternity but we shall wait a little longer to be together on our own terms,” he breathed out. “You have to make Adar believe that Sauron is in Eregion and lead his army to me there. I have my work to do in the meantime, but you will be on my mind constantly like you have been for the past few centuries,” he finished as you shut him up with a hungry and desperate kiss, tangling your hands messily into his hair while straddling his lap.

“I shall be your Queen,” you whimpered between the greedy kisses. Those, he seemed to give you back eagerly. “I shall reflect your greatness and your power, I shall bring you an army and whatever else you ask of me. I am yours, yours completely…”

Your dignity seemed to disappear whenever Sauron was near. You had nearly forgotten how overwhelming and soul crushing devotion it was whenever you actually found yourself around him.

“I know that you are, my darling,” he whispered after one of the kisses. “To be able to lay my eyes upon you again is the most satisfying reward.”

“No, it is not,” you shook your head. “The crown upon your head will be,” you pointed out as he raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my love, I know you very well,” you chuckled through the tears. “And I shall bring you the crown, too. I shall be the one to place it upon your head.”

“Are you not a little bit too greedy, little dove?” Halbrand chuckled.

“Greedy? For you? Always,” you teased and pulled his head back by his hair to place yet another hungry kiss upon his lips. He kissed you back, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as you moaned. But then he broke the kiss as you raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

“You taste like an Orc,” he said.

“Have you kissed many?” You tried to joke back even though his words had hurt you. All this sacrifice was for him… Could he not see that?

“I am only jesting,” he shook his head. “You look, taste and smell like heaven and I cannot wait to claim you as mine once again.”

At those words you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you looked down for a short moment.

“You should go now before it gets suspicious,” Halbrand leaned in to join your foreheads. “Go, you know what to do.”

“I do,” you agreed and cupped his cheeks before pecking his lips once more. “Everything for you.”

Glûg couldn’t stop thinking of Halbrand’s words. He had been approaching you for many days now and trying to make you assure him once more that the words the man had said were not true. At some point, you began to feel a little bit guilty for lying to him since you could spot so much fear in those eyes.

“You have to trust your Lord Father, Glûg,” you smiled at him that morning. “When he says there is no reason to worry, then there is not.”

“He says one thing but I see he is worrying, my Lady,” Glûg shook his head. “Can you not see it, too?” He was genuinely surprised.

You had realised a little while ago that most of the Orcs had no idea about the deal between your father and your husband. Perhaps the whole concept of political marriages and alliances was something unfamiliar to them but most of them truly believed that you shared a deeper connection with your husband. Love – however the Orcs understood this feeling.

But those past few days, ever since Halbrand’s arrest, the relationship between you and Adar was more distant again. He was worried indeed – way more than he had been before when there had only been signs of your lover’s return. You, on the other hand, did not complain about it because your own mind was focused on Sauron as well. Only for reasons much different than his.

“Glûg, no husband ever tells his wife everything,” you tried to cheer him up as he nodded.

You were walking around the village, trying to see if everything was working out smoothly. The closer you were getting to the house where Halbrand was being kept, though, the more sick you were feeling. You hadn’t visited him again after the first night but he was constantly on your mind either way. And the sounds of his screams of pain were giving you nightmares.

Adar joined you all of the sudden, making Glûg walk away from you a little bit. Your husband took his place by your side and you looked up at his face, noticing that he was worried again.

But before you could ask, a familiar scream reached your ears.

“Oh,” you winced and looked away. “I do realise he is a prisoner but what Waldreg is doing to that human king is starting to make me sick,” you complained. Perhaps it was risky to try to stand up for Halbrand but you thought you had done it in quite an innocent manner.

You knew Sauron would not want you to do that because it could possibly reveal your true self to Adar in case he knew who his prisoner truly was, but you loved Sauron too much to let go of this opportunity to make his suffering stop.

Adar did not say anything to your words but he squeezed your arm before walking away again to join the other Orcs that he had originally been on his way to before spotting you with Glûg.

You sighed, defeated.

However, it was no defeat. Or rather, you liked to think it had been your words that made Adar finally find some mercy for Halbrand. On the very next morning he announced it was the right time to finally settle down the matter with the human king and he even ordered to set his people free.

And so you found yourself inside the house where Halbrand was being kept. He was asleep when you walked inside, laying on the cold stone floor covered with a bit of dirty hay. You wondered if he was truly asleep since he did not truly need it.

The state of his face nearly made you weep – the bruises, the bloody lip, the dirt and sweat mixed. He should be treated like a God and yet he had to endure such a treatment. They were fools not to see that he was the one who would heal Middle-earth.

You kept standing next to Waldreg and Glûg but your husband stood above him and kept staring at Halbrand’s sleeping face. You had a feeling he knew – knew something, knew more than you’d like him to. But he surely did not know that the man in front of you was Sauron. Otherwise, he would bring the Iron Crown with him and push it deep into your lover’s heart once more.

“I was in your place once,” Adar scoffed and walked away after Halbrand finally woke up and your husband’s face was the first thing he saw. “In the eldest of the Elder Days,” he continued his story and crouched down to be closer to Halbrand, who kept staring at the ceiling without any expression on his face. “Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth,” Adar explained and you moved uncomfortably.

He had never told you the full story. Would he do it now? Would he tell it to that human king as you listened? Maybe it was easier for him to let you know about his past like that?

“I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left,” Adar continued his story and at that moment, your heart mourned for him.

Despite his cruelty, he had always shown you lots of compassion. He was treating you like a delicate thing that had to be protected as much as empowered, so she could fight for herself, too. He had no idea it was a viper that he had in his bed. And this very viper moved closer to him to put her hand on his shoulder as she faked contempt while staring down at Halbrand. He found your eyes and then he looked at your hand on Adar’s shoulder, only to look back at you. He didn’t like how well you were playing your role – of that you were sure. Sauron had always been the most jealous lover.

But now his anger could not reach you so you toyed with him a little bit more, although teasing him was not your intention. You truly wanted to bring Adar some comfort.

“And after what seemed endless thirst and hunger…” Your husband lifted his hand to squeeze yours. “I saw it. His servant’s face. Sauron’s face,” he whispered and you squeezed his fingers tighter but in that very moment you felt that you were interrupting something intimate between them two. Something you were no part of.

There were tears in Halbrand’s eyes and in yours as well. Perhaps you were a part of it, after all. You were another thing that connected these two, another thread, another betrayal, another affection that they shared.

“And it was… beautiful,” Adar admitted. “He offered me wine, red as a blood moon. He offered me wine, and on that dark and nameless peak, I drank it. I drank it all,” he confessed and Halbrand moved his head slightly to take a better look at your husband. “Your people have been set free and my wife here cannot stand your screams of pain anymore,” he informed him and Halbrand moved his head up to rest it on the wall behind him, shooting you a glance. “Now, tell me what you know of Sauron.”

Halbrand kept staring at you two with a smirk on his face. He was looking you up and down with contempt and a hint of curiosity just like during your first meeting when you had been by Adar’s side, standing next to his throne.

“Sauron has returned in a new form,” Halbrand announced and you looked behind you, knowing very well that Glûg would not take the news well. And indeed, he was affected. “I am not yet certain what shape he has taken.”

“Then of what use are you to me?” Adar asked, angrily. He stood up slowly and you allowed your hand to drop down from his shoulder as you looked down at Halbrand again.

“I have something you don’t,” Halbrand answered. “The trust of the Elves. Release me and I’ll go to them and seek him out, so you can marshal your legions to destroy him.”

You looked at Adar again and he seemed to be overthinking Halbrand’s proposal as the pace of his breath quickened. You quickly put your hand on his chest as you stood by him.

“If he speaks the truth…” You started, changing your tactic. “What I’m saying is… Even if he lies, what can you possibly lose? He is no use for us anyway,” you pointed out.

“Weren’t you the one telling me he was a liar?” Adar whispered and even though Glûg and Waldreg could not hear it, you knew that Halbrand could.

“You had your signs of Sauron’s return and this man proves them. I called him a liar then to calm you down and to not worry your children; to avoid making any decisions in haste,” you explained and then you lowered your voice even further. “I can see how the possibility of Sauron’s return torments you,” you looked into his eyes intensely.

Adar kept staring back at you like that for a while and then he looked up to nod at Waldreg. The man approached Halbrand but not without his usual monologue.

“Do you vow allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks and Dark Lady of Mordor?” He asked Halbrand and you swallowed thickly. Despite standing proud, you glanced down at your lover, a little scared of how he would react to your new name but his face remained unchanged.

“Yes,” he whispered after a while of hesitation, during which he did not look up to meet your gaze even once. He was a much better actor than you were and perhaps you should stop concerning yourself so much with what he would think or react since it was all a game anyway.

“Then kneel,” Waldreg ordered and you watched Halbrand struggling to get into this position since he was still half-lying down and his hands were in shackles.

You kept standing by Adar’s side with your hand on his chest and once again you felt the tension in his body rising as his stare was the most intense. His intuition was not failing him and you only hoped it would not turn out to be even better than you suspected.

“Now, swear it,” Waldreg barked at Halbrand who had just finally made it into the kneeling position. Nothing but the sound of his chains filled the room and you felt really bad for your humiliated lover. You wished you could make it all stop for him.

“I vow–” Halbrand started.

“With your head at her feet,” Adar spoke suddenly in a very harsh tone and you looked at him briefly. Heavy silence occurred between you, him and Halbrand.

You did not understand why Adar wanted this to happen and it felt utterly wrong to be in this position. It was Sauron – your lover, your master, your King. You would never dare to even imagine him bowing down to you because you were the one serving him with your body, mind and soul.

Adar was not fully aware of the complexity of the situation he had just created. You nearly wanted to cry out that no, he did not have to. You wanted to spare your lover the further embarrassment.

But then, after a very long while of hesitation and swallowing his pride – a task incredibly difficult for Sauron, of which you were aware – he did what he had been told and he placed his head at your feet. And in that moment, a shiver went down your spine as you realised that it could be the only opportunity for your lover to be out of his dignity in front of you as much as you usually were in front of him. It was only fair, after all.

And it felt so oddly… good. Satisfying,

“I vow to serve the Lord and Lady of Mordor,” Halbrand whispered. “To the end of my days… and theirs,” he added as a malicious feeling creeped through your body.

Halbrand was given a horse and you watched him ride away slowly while standing next to Adar. Your husband was sitting on his throne with Waldreg by his right side and you by his left. You kept staring at Halbrand’s shoulders but he did not look back even once.

“See that he’s followed. Every step,” Adar told Glûg who had just approached you two. The Orc nodded, still visibly affected by the news of Sauron’s comeback.

Waldreg walked away to clean the house a bit and feed the warg, leaving you alone with your husband. He looked worried and sad as your heart clenched in your chest when you remembered the story he had told Halbrand earlier.

Softly and carefully, you sat on the throne next to him and held his hand gently with the both of yours.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked him.

“I had my suspicions but now… Now I am certain that Sauron is back and…” Adar laid his eyes on you. You were taken aback by the amount of pain you found there. “I cannot let him enslave my children.”

“We… We will not,” your voice broke a little as the guilt creeped in. “The story you have told him… Is that what happened to you, really?” You changed the subject and Adar nodded. “I am sorry,” you admitted, truthfully, while brushing his rough hand with your fingertips.

“Do not mourn me,” Adar asked of you and you cracked a smile.

“Why did you tell him to vow at my feet?” You asked one more question as your eyes met his and he forced a smirk despite his sadness.

“Have I not told you that I would make the whole Middle-earth see the Dark Lady that you are?”

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #adar x reader #lilysfiction

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lemon-russ · 1 month ago

Note

Your lion fic was beautiful. May I request more? Anything will do really. But here are my requests.

Lion angrily jerking it after experiencing one (1) emotion

Lion aggressively cuddling you. You're not hurt or sick or have lost feeling in your lower body temporarily, he just wants to be close to you. And be an ass about it.

You wear his legion colours/symbols and he gets really horny.

40k Lion reminiscing about an old lover from 30k (using that term loosely, they were probably just fuck buddies) and maybe they meet again in 40k. Let's say a perpetual reader.

Anyway these are just my brainworms. Feel free to ignore.

And yes, I am aware I have a thing for stoic men losing it and being absolute freaks. I am currently in search for a good therapist.

Sorry for the delay, but I feel adjacent to a human today, so I finally finished this! Also the way you presented it made me snort laugh haha, the kind message into "angrily jerking it" lmfao

Anyway here's The Lion straight jorkin' it (I like all your suggestions and might come back to the colors one especially!)

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers!

Lion El'Jonson X Fem!Reader

CW: Lion straight up jorkin' it. That's all.

Stupid woman, Lion thought, slamming his chamber doors closed.

He started angrily undoing the belt of his tunic as he marched to his bed, fingers frustratingly fumbling the latch in a hurry.

Stupid, infuriating woman.

Guilliman had sent a representative to give The Lion updates about some missions the Ultramarines had been on, just the average doldrum of war talk. But the representative he sent was his little Ambassador pet.

“My Lord?” You had said, looking up at him between explaining supply lines, “You seem very tired. Did you not rest well?”

He’d been shocked by the simple question. He had indeed been without a proper rest for a bit too long. But, no one ever asked such things about him. He was a god to most baselines, infallible and untiring, beyond mortal needs. But you spent a majority of your time around his brother, so of course you could read him better than a random serf could. And you’d been… concerned. For him.

“Wh- I…” he had stuttered, caught off guard. That annoyed him. Being flustered by a tiny baseline woman’s concern for him annoyed him. The pang of unnameable emotion that shot through him annoyed him. The sudden pulse of pressure below his stomach, especially annoyed him.

“Don’t be daft woman-” he had spat back. You’d just smiled softly at the verbal attack, soft eyes scanning his face, studying the circles forming under his eyes. Then for some warp damned reason, you had gone and made him a cup of recaff. You placed it in front of the flabbergasted Primarch and returned to explaining your papers like nothing had passed.

Stupid woman.

The minute you’d given him a quick aquillan salute and been on your way out the door, He had turned on his heel and stormed off to his quarters, leaving confused serfs in his wake as he pushed them aside, some even falling to the floor. “No one disturb me.” He had growled, stalling their pursuit of him.

He finally pulled his pants down, holding his tunic aside as he knelt on his bed. That feeling that you had invoked in him had shot right between his legs. The whole rest of the meeting, he was struggling to focus on anything but how hard you had made him.

He grasped himself, groaning at the friction at last as he stroked. Your image assaulted his mind. You leaning over the table just enough that he could see down the far too loose tunic dress you wore. He growled remembering that glimpse of your breasts, infuriatingly framed in ultramarine blue. It should have been HIS colors.

He grasped himself tighter as he assailed his aching cock, falling back on his pillows. It should be Dark Angels green you were in. No- it should be nothing at all. You should be naked in his bed. You should be panting in his lap-

His hips bucked himself fruitlessly into his hand at the image. Your sweet face, flush and gasping as you rode him. Did you look at Guilliman the way you’d looked up at him? Did you fetch him drinks when you noticed he was worn? The thought enraged The Lion. How dare you go back to the Macragge’s Honour, back to anywhere but his bed.

He gripped the sheets, yanking at his tunic as he frustratedly picked up speed, ignoring the slight soreness from his calloused palm attacking his cock without anything to help the friction. It wouldn’t be an issue if it was you on him instead. He bet you were plenty slick, and tight-

He felt his balls start to tighten, drawing in a hissing, ragged gasp through grit teeth. His bed creaked with the cadence of his hips jerking up into his fist. You should be here. You should be wrapped around him, holding on for your life as he used you like a cocksleeve- he imagined your small hands splayed over his stomach for balance, trying desperately to hold yourself down against his bouncing.

He fisted his cock faster, frustrated by the sub-par sensation of his own rough skin, barely slicked with his pre-cum as he drove himself forcefully toward an orgasm. He was frustrated he’d immediately given in to such base instincts. He was Frustrated you could drive him to this with one little question, with one sweet look.

His mind flooded with the image of you giving him that little smile, eyes soft and concerned in defiance of his sharp words-

He let out a snarl as the heat in him snapped, shooting his spend over his stomach in jerking pulses. A few more hard pumps on his cock drained him, shuddering and mind blank, before he collapsed back on the bed, legs shaking and ragged gasps wracking his lungs.

He lay panting, covered in his own seed, twitching his hips up in the aftershocks. This was your fault. You stupid, damnable woman.

He groaned and let his arm fall to his side as the sensations eased from his need-drunk mind.

He had a very stern demand to draft. If his brother wanted him to keep playing nice- which he had been, he’d been very cooperative he thought, he earned some credit- If Guilliman wanted Lion to keep his word about their plans and supplies and defenses-

Then the cost was merely one insignificant little diplomat woman.

#lion el'jonson x reader #my work #asks #lion el'jonson x f!reader #reader insert #wh40k fic

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arahdow · 5 months ago

Text

WHO?! pt. 1

Pairing. Sonic x reader. Shadow x reader.

Content. fem reader. they mention another girls name as a prank. insecurities, angst but most of all hurt to comfort bcs in this house we appreciate aftercare after a sad moment. mhm humor.

Word count. 1.7 k

A/N. this is a two part post!! the reason i divided it was bcs i’m having a lot of trouble writing for silver and knuckles (i’m thinking on adding scourge too) 😫 so i’m trying to give myself some more time BUT in the meantime please have this and forgive me for not posting something of mine in a while 🤧 i assure you i’m working on different requests and ideas, so pls be patient and wait for the best!!

+ no beta read anddd a lil too ooc maybe

Sonic was always a prankster, but his prank backfired? That’s new…

Another tiring day at work, helping her coworkers get their job done even when she had her own work, doing extra hours, even walking home felt like a burden. She only wanted to lie down for at least the whole weekend.

Sighing, she opened the door of her shared home with the blue hero, Sonic the hedgehog. He called himself a hero, something along the lines of ‘blue justice’ and she always laughed at his antics. She wanted nothing more than to hug him and sleep in his embrace.

As she walked to the kitchen, she heard Sonic humming and washing the pots he used to make dinner. He wasn’t used to cooking, but he liked to treat his girlfriend, especially when she went overtime.

“Hello.” She greeted, her voice weak as she noticed the delicious smell of the food he made.

Wiping his hands, he turned to his girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “Go and change, I'll be waiting darling.”

The girl nodded with a sleepy smile and went to their room, before she could enter, Sonic yelled: “Be sure not to get asleep, Amy!”

And it’s like her whole world crashed. Feeling like a cold splash of water running down her body, she soon felt her stomach drop. Amy? Why Amy? Was Amy there before? Why was he mentioning her? What?

A whole world of ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’ ran through her head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to stop feeling hungry, so, even if she wanted to stay by herself now, she knew if she didn’t eat she'd probably pass out in their shared room.

Feeling a sting on her chest and throat, the girl changed herself and walked to the kitchen again. Her appetite forced her to meet her lover, but was he really tough? Was he still… Hers?

In silence, she sat beside Sonic starting to eat. The man looked at her confused but followed her movements without a word. She always thanked him for the food and let him have the first bite. It was a cute tradition between them and now she just went straight to eat. He couldn’t blame her, so he accepted it and kept on eating.

Sonic almost forgot the prank. Honestly, he was expecting some kind of teasing back, as his lover always had a callback, but now? She seemed too tired to add something of her own so he left it at that.

He was ready to talk about something else when he noticed tears staining her face. “Dear? Wha-” He hurriedly went for a napkin and gave it to her. “What is it?”

The girl refused the napkin and turned away from him, her tears running free. Then he stared at her barely touched food. “Lov-”

“Why Amy?”

Sonic bit his tongue, looking at her. Amy?

“What’s with-”

“Do you love her? Again?!”

The man flinched a bit at her broken voice. His chest constricted with pain.

“Listen, I-”

“I don’t…” The girl scoffed and braced herself. “I don’t want to know the details, just, have you fallen in love with Amy again?”

He reeled back, inhaling with insight. Oh. He. Fucked. Up.

“No, love-”

“Then why mention her? Why is her name in your lips when I’m the one you swore to spend your life with?” Sonic was already panicking inside watching the meltdown his girl was having.

“It’s not like that!” He managed to say, stumbling on his words to prevent her from cutting him off again. “Love, it was a prank.”

The girl looked at him, her tears suddenly stopping, it almost looked humoristic if it wasn’t for the whole reason she was crying.

“I’m sorry you’d thought I could do that to you,” he explained, standing up and wiping her tears by himself with the napkin she refused to grab. “I was trying to be funny like we always are but… I guess it wasn’t the right timing.”

“No shit.” She replied, a sarcastic tone in her voice as she sighed, the weight on her shoulders disappearing. “Ah, thank chaos.”

“I mean, how could I do that to you when I already have an engagement ring somewhere in my room?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. Wait. “Wait what?”

“What?” He echoed, the atmosphere in the room changing completely as he winked at her. They were in for a long night, but first, he had to make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.

Sonic told him about it and said it was funny, so Shadow mentioned it while his partner was venting because he thought it was good timing. spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Can you fucking believe it, Shadow? My sister wants me to attend this stupid gathering, I told her it was fucking useless, I don’t give two shits about them because of what they did in the past, they never… They’ve never even fucking apologized! I’m just so mad right now, how can they be so stupid? Idiots! But you know what’s worse? The fact that…”

Shadow looked at his partner, listening intently at her venting. His gaze went in between her and her hands folding the laundry. His mind somewhere else as he recalled a conversation he had in the morning with his blue copy.

“This is a good way to cheer your girl up! Believe me! I’ve tried it before and it totally works.” Shadow looked at him, a skeptic look in his eyes.

“Are you sure pranking her is the best way to cheer her up? But why if it’s something vulnera-”

“Naaah, I don’t think anything is that bad that you have to care too much about it.” Sonic explained while munching on his fifth chili dog of the day. “And besides, it’s just a simple harmless prank, she’ll laugh and it’d be alright.”

“...And I was like, ‘You remember what auntie said the last time I was there, why do you want me to go so fucking bad?’ ugh, it’s like a nightmare, I can’t wrap my head around it, really!”

He knew it was something serious because she was cursing a lot, or maybe she felt kind of free now that she was letting it all out? Was it a great time to do that prank? Maybe she’ll stop running in circles and just give herself some time…

“That sounds hard, Sora.”

Silence.

His face was stern, his position sitting on the bed seemed relaxed, but on the inside he was gauging her next words or actions in response to his words. Pressing his lips, he waited for her reaction, but it seemed like the world just stopped, did he stop time unconsciously? No, because the ceiling fan was still moving over their heads.

“What did you just say?”

But he didn’t reply. More like he couldn’t. He already wanted to say it was a prank, but he stopped himself. Maybe if he waited a bit more… He could hear the sound of her cries.

Her cries?

His mind shifted violently, attentive to the sound of distress coming from the girl. Shadow took a step, horrified at the scene. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees as she kept on crying.

That was his sign. Kneeling in front of her, Shadow took her by the wrist, relieved that she didn’t push him away instantly.

“Shh sh, it was a prank, I'm sorry, I wasn’t being serious.” He said, trying to reason with her. That seemed to make the trick as she stopped for a bit, head still on her hands as she seemed to take a deep breath. The calmness didn’t last long as the girl shook her head and kept on crying, her face still fully covered.

He tried getting her hands away from her face, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes, wanting his point to come across, but she wasn’t budging.

Shadow just stared at her, his capacity of dealing with emotions almost close to none as he tried to find a way to solve this situation he himself caused. Lucky for him, her cries started to die down, not because she was less sad, but because she was tired from crying.

Being able to see her eyes eased him for a bit, but something still pulled at the strings of his heart: what would she say now?

The girl got up from the floor, walking out from her room straight to the kitchen. Shadow followed silently, afraid of her next move or word. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank. Two, three gulps and then she stopped, closing the bottle again. Shadow felt his heart beating hard against his chest with suspense, when she turned at him, her red eyes from crying staring deeply into his.

And then she smiled.

“Damn,” she said, sighing. “I needed that.”

Shadow blinked a few times trying to register her words. “What?”

The girl chuckled and wiped the tears off from her face, staring at him. “Yeah, you think I believed you?” a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Chaos, you seemed so nonchalant trying to convince me you really had another girl, that was so funny!”

“Wait, you… You faked it?” He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation.

“Yeah! Woah, I really needed to cry, I feel lighter now, thanks for the push, Shadz.” She said, winking at the black hedgehog, walking past him to their room again. “And, I recommend you practice your facial expressions, you seemed scared even before I started crying, if you plan on pranking Sonic, you’ll need to try harder.”

The man stood there, shocked as he then turned and questioned. “What the- Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked, stopping before entering the room, turning her head at him.

“That! I-“ He suddenly felt the weight of everything on his chest, making him almost suffocate from the whiplash of emotions he just experienced. “I almost had a heart attack.”

With a playful glint on her eye, she nodded before turning around and keeping on walking. “Suits you right.”

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow #sonic #shadow x reader #sonic x reader #arah ⊚ masterpieces

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waywardcrow · 9 months ago

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I’d do bad things with you.

Summary: The day after the wedding, Bucky and his new wife go to Stark's house to plan their next step because that's why they are married, right? Not because they love each other.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.

TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, implications of mafia kind of stuff but please remember all I know about this I learned from SoC and fics lol, allutions to death, mention of cheating and sex, lots of angst, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Yours to lose series.

All eyes on us <<<

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything when his wife closed the door of the guest room, how could he? His dragă asked for one thing: help to protect her family.

That didn’t mean she owned him something, she was his wife but not his woman, not anymore.

If only he wasn’t so impulsive, if he weren’t so blind to recognize what he had in front on him, they wouldn’t be in this situation, their wedding wouldn’t be an arrangement, he would had ask her to marry him instead of trapping her.

Still, he had hopes, he would never give up in getting her back, and when Bucky finally did it, he would make up for the lost time.

Alone in her room, Bells felt the Barnes’ family ring heavy in her hand, not only for the rose diamond, it was heavy because she didn’t deserve it. She was well aware she only had it because she ended up being a Stark, there was no way this could ever happen to her being the mistress on turn for the Winter Soldier.

And even knowing it, she missed those times.

Everyone that worked in the restaurant knew she was sleeping with him, they also knew it was better for their tongues that she never heard them talk about it, Bucky made an example of the first and only one who tried, a jackass named Julian who liked to make women uncomfortable.

After that, everyone turned a blind eye when Bucky when to the bar and talk to her for hours, when he called her to his office and she used disappeared in there to don't go back to work for the whole shift, they saw them going home at night, both being walking proof of the affair.

Her friends sometimes looked at Bells with concern; especially Kate but no one said a thing.

She would get in the car with Bucky who would try to convince her to stop working so he could spoil her and Bells would gave him the same answer, she only wanted him, not his money.

It was so stupid of her, to believe he could feel the same one day but how could she not think it when he played his part so well? Treating him like she was something delicate, something beautiful, she wanted to believe he could want her, love her.

That was why she spent most of the nights with him during the months her fantasy ran wild, she was even familiar with his men, Steve and Sam adored her, Scott, Thor and Clint were sweet with her, even the stoic Loki smiled sometimes at her jokes.

Bucky made her feel at home, she had free reign in the house except for his office and they found their routine very quickly.

Even in the nights Bucky couldn’t join her right after work, he would find her sometimes eating alone in the kitchen or taking a shower and he would made up to her, he was so tender with Bells, making her feel everything was right, maybe it was because she never had a real home and she craved it that she was so easy to fool.

After taking the dress off her and removing her make-up, the girl curled in bed, refusing to cry again for him.

“Good morning, dragă, I made breakfast” was the first thing Bucky told his wife in the morning. His wife, he would never get tired of saying it even if it was only in his head.

She looked beyond beautiful, the ivory set of pants and jacket hug her curves and he was loving the cleavage cut he could see from his place in the counter. His wife looked like what she was, a Queen.

“Don’t call me that, James” hearing his name on her lips hurt but he deserved it, at least she didn’t call him by his last name.

Their last name.

“Does my lady prefer any other nickname?” he asked without stop smiling, serving her coffee like he knew she liked it.

“I have a name, stick to it”

Her name was beautiful, both of them, the one her parents gave her and the one he met her with but she was the woman he loved, dragă was really appropiate.

“You used to love when I called you that, I don’t think I should change it if we want this marriage to be believable” he shrugged, knowing well why his wife didn’t like it anymore.

“We made a deal, Barnes” oh, James was gone “you will not make anyone believe this after we deal with our enemies”

She really did believe he would give up on her, which almost made him smile. His dragă still had to learn a few things about him.

“You should eat, Mrs. Barnes, we have to be at your brother’s house in half an hour”

Bucky was the least happy about working with Tony Stark, he supposed they could have been friends in another circumstances but he hurt his sister, if Natasha would ever did the same to Becca, Bucky would never forgive her.

Thor drove them to Stark’s mansion and Bucky hated how at ease his wife was there, that wasn’t her home, not anymore.

Russo and Castle were waiting besides Stark who hugged his wife and kissed her cheeks, taking her away from Bucky, leaving him scowling beside Steve and Sam.

“You look like you drank your weight in alcohol, Billy” she giggled and Bucky’s heartache increased, when was the last time he made her laugh? He couldn’t remember.

“Are you trying to tell me something, topolina?” Russo inquired with an offended look while they walked to Stark’s office.

“Yes, she means you look like shit Bill” Castle answered before his wife could and they all laughed but Russo and Bucky, Sam and Steve were too busy talking with Thor to notice. He watched as they took her inside the house bringing back her sweet personality, all the love she felt for them that made him mad watching the “proof” of her betrayal slapping him in the face once again.

Maybe Hydra staged all that but it was his fault, his own insecurities and ghosts were what made her hate him and he couldn’t see the way out of the mess he created, not when the scars that piece of shit gave her in his murder attempt were visible every time Bucky could see her arms.

“Are you ok Buck?” Sam asked quietly, his gaze following Bucky’s, his dragă was smiling at Pepper and Tony, touching her sister in law’s bump. He might never get that with her and if it wasn’t with her- Bucky knew it now, if it wasn’t her, it was no one.

“I’m fine, let’s go”

Pierce had endless resources, deals with powerful people, enough money to buy himself a kingdom, lots of people who would kill for him without hesitation but with all that, he had an Aquiles heel.

“We know he feels like he already won the reelection for Mayor but I’m not so sure” Bells projected a picture of a handsome man with dark hair. He had a kind smile and even the red sunglasses didn’t disminished his likable aura “Matthew Michael Murdock was born and raised in Hell’s kitchen, he graduated Columbia with honors with his best friend, Franklin Nelson, the current District Attorney and he was a champion of the people as a lawyer in his neighborhood despite he had multiple chances to work for a big firm, all of that changed when his soon to be wife, Karen Page, got in the way of Wilson Fisk”

Billy raised his hand as if he was in a classroom.

“Why does this sound like someone talking about their crush and how this helps us?” next to him, Maria hit him in the head and he yelped “I’m just saying!”

“She has a point, you would know it if you let Bells finish” his sister smiled at her friend “please go on topolina.

“Thanks Maria, you’re right as always” Bells winked at her and Maria blow her a kiss “Murdock it’s going to help us beat Pierce in the legal side and meanwhile dear Karen would help us convince him to let us give his campaign a hand” there was a mischievous grin in her face that Bucky had never seen before and it took everything in Bells to look away from him.

Pepper then cleared her throat and Bells took her seat, everyone looking at the ginger.

“Since Fisk got killed in jail, Miss Page got out of witness protection and Mr. Murdock reinforced his fight against the system from the political side” Bells helped her showing reports of Murdock’s popularity, his good press, all the people that supported him “we are going to destroy Pierce taking everything from him. Natasha and Yelena are working with Wanda and Maria to take more territory from him, Madani and Torres keep going after his most powerful lieutenants just like we talked about the last meeting.”

The map in the screen showed the comparison of the before and after, all the east side of the city that once was Pierce’s now it was all theirs, there were still parts resisting the change, it would have been quicker if the group didn’t tried to make the transition the less bloody as possible.

It wasn’t about power, even if it was what their line of work demanded, it was about revenge.

Pierce took something irreplaceable from each one of them, it would be only fair they’d leave him with nothing.

This time Bucky catched Bells eye and refused to let her go.

If not for Pierce, maybe they still would been together but maybe not, Bells was so afraid to tell him the truth about who she really was when Tony found her and it just added to the impending disaster they were, they would been living a lie, she would have been just the mistress, the toy on turn for someone that didn’t loved her.

Bells had to remind herself she didn’t need Bucky, she couldn’t, not after being the target of his cruelness, she couldn’t wash the memory of him fucking Jenna on his desk after telling Bells he loved her hours before.

She knew the truth now, she couldn’t forgive him, not when Bells’ heart was still aching for Bucky’s betrayal, for his lack of faith in her, for his lack of love towards her.

On the other side, Bucky was proud of her, his dragă was born to rule at his side and he didn’t care if he had to hunt Alexander Pierce himself, he would do anything to do this right.

If the murder of his father taught him something, it was that he wouldn’t fix anything feeling sorry for himself, Bucky had all the chances in the world to make amends and he would pay for every mistake with the blood of their enemies.

Tag list: learisa blackhawkfanatic queerqueenlynn calwitch pono-pura-vida

Hiya! This took me so long but it was only because I was stressing myself about it, then I decided to do whatever felt right and here we are! Also the nicknames I used here:

dragă: sweetheart.

topolina: little mouse.

Let me know what you think.

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst

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fyodior · 1 year ago

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IN EVERY UNIVERSE.

self-indulgent fyodor x gn!reader fluff because my heart is still so so broken :( no warnings! wc: 0.7k (divider by cafekitsune)

“I think that you and I would find each other in every universe.”

“Hmm?” your lover prods, pulling you closer against his chest and tipping your chin up with his finger. His violet eyes glowed in the waning light of the setting sun, slightly obscured by the raven fringe that swept across his forehead. “How do you mean?”

Taking advantage of the early summer weather and your approaching anniversary, you and Fyodor skipped work in favor of dedicating the day to your love. Starting with, of course, sleeping in, followed by a brunch you and him made together, visiting your favorite art museum, and ending the day with a picnic in a sprawling field within a nearby nature preserve.

It was like a movie, the way he hand-fed you strawberries and kissed away the juice that trickled down the corners of your lips with the laugh you could recognize anywhere. Prose and poetry danced off Fyodor’s lips as he read from the tote bag full of books you had lugged with you, reading stories of immortalized love and poems ignited by insurmountable passion as you laid your head in his lap. A few Russian novels had snuck their way into the collection as well, Fyodor gracing you with the heightened level of elegance and finesse in his voice as he spoke in his native tongue.

But now the two of you, pleasantly exhausted from the day, lie on the blanket laid out in the grass, surrounded by sprouts of baby’s breath and daisies in the cozy drowsiness of a summer haze.

You take the opportunity to press the gentlest of kisses against his warm lips, and he smiles softly as he returns the gesture. “I mean that… I don’t think there’s any version of us in any world, in any universe, in any timeline that don’t find each other. That never feel the touch of the other.”

Warmth blooms in Fyodor’s chest and spreads to each of his limbs, painting a rosy red on his cheeks that only you have ever been able to put there. “And why do you say that, my love?”

“Because… I just know it. Our souls are intertwined. Don’t you feel it?”

It makes sense in your head. The way you perfectly compliment each other. The way you felt like you’d known him your whole life the second you met him. The tilt of his head and the almost mischievous spread of his lips felt like those of an old friend, and you hadn’t even known his name yet. And in that moment, too, you already knew you’d know him forever.

And yet, you weren’t two halves of a whole. You always found that expression to be reductive. To insinuate you were incomplete people without each other was incorrect – you would always be you, and Fyodor would always be Fyodor. But you made each other… better. More complete.

“Your handprint is forever burned on my soul, Fyodor,” you explain.

“I feel it,” he nods, answering your question from earlier as locks of your hair twirl between his fingers. “Like the roots of a thousand-year-old tree curl around each other and cement themselves into the earth, I feel it.” His hands leave your hair in favor of intertwining your fingers together, as if to illustrate his point.

I fear we are stuck, you and I,” he chuckles, and you giggle along too.

“For better or for worse,” you say. “In every universe.”

“Through heaven and hell, and everything in between, above, or below. I’ll find you, my darling.”

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon now, casting your lover in a faint glow that made him seem ethereal, almost angelic. Your free hand, the one not enveloped in his, came to touch the delicate, porcelain skin of his cheek.

“You promise, Fedya? That you’ll find me?”

“I swear.”

#fyodor x reader #fyodor fluff #bsd x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

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itsangelicasworld · 3 months ago

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*･῾ ⁺ Welcome to My Teen Titans DR 🧨 .*

💥 ˗ˏˋ DESCRIPTION .ᐟ

In 2003 Jump City, a team of six teenagers called the "Teen Titans" fight against supervillains threatening their beloved metropolis. Along the way, they must face issues even worse than superpowered antagonists who want them captured; emotions, romance, and navigating the bumpy road of impending adulthood. My DR follows the plot of the show except with my own headcanons, scenarios, etc.

Like the show, there are no secret identities; so our superhero personas are quite literally just us. WHICH MEANS WE'RE TREATED LIKE CELEBRITIES!! People ask for photos/autographs, we have merch, and there's even an entire Teen Titans fandom with forums and fanarts and theories!! Not super relevant to this reality's lore, but thought it'd be cool to mention🤭.

🔆 ˗ˏˋ ABOUT ME .ᐟ

NAME : Angelica Sterling

NICKNAMES : Quin, Angel

AGE : 16-years-old

PRONOUNS : She/her/hers

ETHNICITY : Black and Mexican

MBTI : INFP-T

PERSONALITY : Optimistic, courageous, charismatic, empathetic, humorous, witty, mature, impatient, cautious, idealistic

HERO ALIAS : Quanta

POWER : Quantum Manipulation (basically the ability to manipulate the very foundation of the universe/matter because I'm the main character actually🤭)

SUB-POWERS : Healing, telekinesis, quantum empowerment, shapeshifting

DRAWBACKS : Using too much of my power at one time can lead to fatigue; symptoms range from mild (grogginess, irritability) to severe (headaches, unconsciousness). Additionally, under incredibly high-stress situations or potent emotions, my powers may become unstable or erratic

COMBAT SKILLS : Hand-to-hand, mixed martial arts, kickboxing, and of course using my powers, which include shooting projectiles and making defense constructs

🍕 ˗ˏˋ RELATIONSHIPS .ᐟ

I made moodboards + added some quotes for all of them here, so check that out if you wanna see their aesthetics🤭

ROBIN : My s/o!! I could write 100 paragraphs about this man but I'll list our tropes instead💪

Tortured hero (on his side, he gets it from Batman ftgyhuhgtfg)

Friends to lovers

Slooowwww burn

Mutual pining

Healing together

STARFIRE : Me and her are SUUCHH girly-girls. Having sleepovers, going to the mall, exploring the city, etc. is literally all we do and I love it. She also really likes ranting about Tamaran to me. Hearing her childhood stories is so sweet🛐

RAVEN : Initially, Raven needed time to warm up to me, but now we have a really close bond. UGGHH I can't wait to meditate with this girl and talk about spirituality. AND I SCRIPTED I'M THE ONLY ONE SHE ALLOWS IN HER ROOM, SO IT'S LIKE HAVING VIP TICKETS FFGHFFG BEAST BOY : This dude is such a jokester but he's so insecure I just NEED TO HUG HIM😭😭. He's like the little brother I never had; super annoying but I couldn't imagine my life without him

CYBORG : Although I'm not as close to Cy as some of the other members, he really means a lot to me!! He's kind of like my big brother. He really likes to teach me about mechanics and I know he's always got my back, and I have his. Even though we can squabble over his attitude sometimes💀

🦇 ˗ˏˋ OUTRO .ᐟ

Feel free to send in asks about this DR (and really any of them if your curious), they'd be greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading THIS far <333

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 *+:｡.｡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . ╰──╮

Aesthetics inspired by @/shiftingwithjaidyn's fame DR intro | Dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive

#shiftblr #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting community #shifting antis dni #teen titans dr #shifting to teen titans #shifting to dc #dc dr #dr introduction #dr intro

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judesmoonbeauty · 5 months ago

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Fairytale Keeper's Final Assessment SE:

Ellis Twilight’s POV Premium END ཐིཋྀ

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Highly suggestive. MDNI. Dividers: @/natimiles

(I told her to take a little time away from me, but I couldn’t resist.)

(I feel stupid, even though I’m the one who suggested it.)

I used to be so good at being patient.

It was all so easy to kill my desires.

(I’ve been a mess since I fell in love with you Kate.)

But you accepted me like this with a warm smile, this desire that overflows and doesn’t stop.

(Kate, choose me.)

Ellis: ……Kate’s apartment, it’s right here.

I ran up the stairs to the room on the second floor of the bakery.

I forgot to knock and opened the door.

Kate: …..ELLIS!

Kate and I bumped into each other.

Ellis: ….Kate.

Ellis: Were you going somewhere?

I look at Kate’s face as she looks down.

Ellis: Or……were you…….coming to see me?

Kate nodded her head with her eyes downcast, and I couldn’t help but feel happy.

Kate: I was actually going to stay here until morning, as promised to think things over.

Kate: But, when I thought about various things I started to want to……see you Ellis.

Ellis: Various?

Kate: Even if I quit being the Fairytale Keeper, we will always love each other Ellis. I have no doubts or worries about that.

Kate: Our relationship as lovers could continue…….I’m confident about that.

Kate: But then I realized that…if we’re apart, there will be more things I won’t know.

Kate: If we were apart for example, I wouldn’t be able to know if you got hurt, Ellis.

Kate: Maybe…there will be times you get injured and can’t meet up.

Kate: As I thought about that…..I became unbearably afraid of being apart.

Ellis: …Kate.

Kate: And I’m not just afraid…I’m being selfish, but I don’t like the idea of there being something that I don’t know about you, Ellis.

Kate: I’m sorry…I…what am I saying?

(I’ve seen many expression, but I’ve never seen Kate’s expression like this.)

Kate: Ellis, it’s me…….

Kate: I feel like I’m lost without you, Ellis.

Ellis: …..

(I’m in trouble.)

(I’m so happy it makes me crazy.)

Ellis: It’s okay, Kate. Me too.

Ellis: I’m lost without you too.

Kate: …Ellis.

(So tell me. That you’re happiest being with me, and Crown.)

Kate: Living with you and Crown is what makes me happiest right now.

Kate: Will you let me continue being the Fairytale Keeper?

Ellis: That’s what I’ve been hoping you’d choose all along.

Ellis: I’m sorry I made you feel lonely because I wanted…..you to choose me.

Even though I can see that my desires are doing something wrong and keeping her in a tight grip.

(And yet I can’t stop wanting you.)

Kate: It’s okay. I realized that you’re more important to me, Ellis.

Ellis: Kate….can I kiss you?

Kate: Mhm, mmm…..

Every time I kiss her from a different angle, my desire overflows and I can’t stop.

She smiles in my arms even though she is entangled in my thorny desires.

I am becoming more messed up.

Ellis: I want to push you down and do…..lot’s of things that feel good.

Ellis: But only after I’ve taken you home properly.

Ellis: Can I take you away?

Kate: Yes.

Kate: Ellis, you can take me wherever you want to go.

Ellis: You might not be able to go anywhere, you know?

Kate: I don’t care. As long as you’re by my side Ellis.

Ellis: You’re still a little crazy.

Kate: …Do you hate it?

Ellis: …..I love it.

I took Kate back and we drowned in a wave of sheets.

Kate: N…..mmm…..Ellis….nn

Ellis: Oh, does it feel good here, Kate….?

Kate: Oh, ngh…..ah, that feels good.

Ellis: Then I’ll do it more for you.

Kate: Uh, ah……….ah.

(I was told this……before by Kate.)

Flashback (Ellis Main Route) -

Kate: It’s not just about making the other person happy.

Kate: I think it would be better for you to become a lover with someone you want to be together with forever.

Ellis: That I’ll ……stay beside forever?

Kate: Yes.

(At the time, I had no answer for you.)

(But now I can say it clearly.)

Flashback Ends -

Ellis: Kate……stay by my side forever.

Ellis: Be my only lover forever.

(I won’t let you go even if I die. That’s why, my love keeps killing.)

Kate smiled and hugged me.

Like embracing thorns herself.

And so our daily life began again.

The morning sun, which has just risen, shines faintly on us on the sheets.

Ellis: Hey, Kate……how happy are you?

Kate: ……..I’m very happy.

Kate: But maybe we’d both be happier if we ate bread with lots of cranberry jam for breakfast.

Ellis: Yeah, that’s the best I can imagine.

Kate: Hehe, right?

I like it when Kate says, “Tomorrow will be happier.”

(This is not the end of us.)

She looked at me and seemed to be thinking the same thing.

(We can be much, much happier from now on.)

(We can forget the words like “goodbye”.)

Ellis: Ah.

Kate: Oh, no!

Ellis: I’m sorry I lied. I already did it.

Kate: What, when?

Ellis: After you fell asleep last night.

Ellis: How could I forget anything about you….right?

Kate blinks and then a faint blush appears on her cheeks.

Kate: Ellis, you’re still a bit of a troublemaker.

I love her today, even when she says that.

The day after tomorrow and the day after that.

Then, someday when you have confirmed that you’re at your happiest-

(Let’s stop time together and become an eternity.)

Until then, let’s have the happiest days ahead.

FairyTale Keeper Continuation Agreement

Kate hereby agrees to continue as Fairytale Keeper. ‘Cause we’ll always be together until we stop time and become an eternity. -Ellis Twilight

A few days after I agreed to continue to be Fairytale Keeper, I suddenly received a notice from her Majesty the Queen.

Kate, I’ve heard of your work. Thank you for everything. Now, I’d like you to assess something for me. Whether or not, Ellis, is the right person for Crown.

[Bitter End] [Epilogue] [Master List]

#ikevil ellis #ellis twilight #ellis twilight translation #cybird translations #IkeVil #ikevil jp

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aurorawritestoescape · 11 months ago

Text

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #deaddovedecember2023 #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #pedro pascal #dark joel miller #dark tommy miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #tw noncon #tw dead dove #cw noncon #non con #dark fic

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