#THIRSTY. might write more ab him… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

molllsprple · 2 years ago

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Strictly business

Part 2

Part 1

Hi all! I’m genuinely surprised with the interest and support I received from the first chapter. It’s really made me want to put more effort into my writing! I really hope you’re all experiencing the same enjoyment reading this, as I am writing it 😚 P.s - the photo below is not mine, I do not own it. I just thought I’d leave it there to give people a general idea as to what the ship is supposed to look like (i realise it is much smaller in the show, but i changed it to fit the story)

Warnings:Rating 15+, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking irresponsibly, slightly sexually suggestive content, swearing, Usual Mihawk orientated thirstiness ensues.

You awoke the next day with a throbbing headache. The events of the night before were hazy, but the sharp pain coming from your leg was enough for you to recall the undeniable facts—you got shot, fainted, and now here you are.

But how did you make it back to the ship, and who’s bed were you laying in right now?

With a suspicious squint, you slowly propped yourself up on to your elbows, being mindful not to aggravate your injury in the process. The room was large and spotlessly tidy. If it wasn’t for the odd piles of neatly folded clothes, and the necklaces decorating the surface of the dresser opposite, you might assume the room had never been occupied. And, most notably, it stank of booze.

This was Mihawk’s bed…

Jesus, even his sheets stank of wine. You were convinced he was bathing in the stuff.

You threw the covers to the side to get a better look at your leg. It had been cleaned and dressed, and seemed to be healing well considering it had only been several hours since the incident. Delicately, you slid both legs over the side of the bed in an attempt to get up. You cringed as you began to apply pressure to your bad side, but the pain seemed bearable enough to be able to stand. With all the grace of a newborn foal you began to manoeuvre towards the door, twisting the knob as you progressed deeper into the ship. The creaking of Oakwood planks punctuated your every step as you stumbled down the hall, eventually finding your way to Mihawk’s study.

You were expecting to be met with hawk eyes and sarcastic comments, but instead were met with a dimly lit room and an empty chair. Your shoulders sagged, feeling slightly deflated—why were you disappointed? He was probably off somewhere cleaning up after the mess you had made on your last bounty hunt.

In that moment, you were overcome with guilt as you recalled last nights events more vividly. You were stupid enough to been seen by the target, and even more reckless to let yourself get shot in the process. He must be mad with you—how could he not be?

“You should be in bed”

Mihawk’s deep baritone rumbled from behind you, causing you to whip around, almost throwing yourself off balance. As you turned to face him, you were taken aback by the man stood in front of you. The fury behind his yellow eyes froze you in place, as his Broad shoulders caged you in against the wall. You had to crane your neck back and up just to meet his eye line, making you take note of how tall he is in comparison to you. It was in that moment that you were brutally reminded of why so many souls feared his existence; His black leather coat was now decorated in a deep crimson, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of human blood. His toned abs were painted in flecks of the same shade, made more noticeable in contrast with his porcelain skin tone. You could practically feel the testosterone radiating from him with every rapid rise and fall of his exposed chest. He looked furious.

You didn’t know whether to feel terrified or turned on.

“I-I was just looking for you.” you swallowed, throat suddenly as dry as a desert. “I wanted to thank you—for what you did. I would have been really screwed back there if you hadn’t of stepped in. I seriously owe you my-“.

“You owe me nothing” Mihawk’s tone was matter of fact “I was simply protecting my investment.”

Investment? Oh right…the contract that you and he shared.

“Even so, It was a stupid mistake—and it shouldn’t have happened. I understand if you want to terminate our contract-“

“That won’t be necessary.” Mihawk interrupted.

“But the bounty-“

“-Has been taken care of” Mihawk lifted his hand to rub the bridge of his nose as he gave an audible sigh, exhaustion apparent in his voice “Please just—just rest.”

Your eyes quietly flicked down to observe the way the blood stains extended down to his trousers and boots, deciding that it was probably best to just agree with him on this one. You blinked up at him before eventually nodding in agreement, realising he wasn’t going to let you say any more on the matter. “Can I at least pour myself a drink first—you know, for the pain”. You pleaded with your most convincing pout.

Mihawk simply rolled his eyes, and disappeared down the hall way without another word.

You took that as a yes.

—————————————————————————

It had been roughly two hours since you had last spoken to Mihawk, before he had left to clean up and re-navigate the ship. In the mean time, you had successfully used your own navigational skills to find the location of Mihawk’s booze cabinet. One drink had turned into two drinks, two drinks turned into four, and before you knew it you had drank a sizeable dent into his vintage wine collection. You were starting to understand why he loved the stuff so much. The pain in your leg felt like a distant memory, hell, you weren’t even sure if you had legs right now.

With a languid smile, you swirled the last remaining drops around in your glass, before downing the liquid entirely and slumping back into your desk chair. Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware to the fact that Mihawk was stood in the doorway, substantially less covered in blood and wearing a rather wide-eyed expression at the sheer mass of alcohol you had consumed, and more notably at which bottles you had chosen to open. His hawk-eyes flicked between you and the two empty bottles rolling around on the desk.

“What…happened in here? Mihawk asked, his deep voice a mix of horror and fascination.

Your eyes shifted towards the blurry object that had entered the room “I’ve been resting” you hiccuped, resting your face between you palms “Doctor’s orders”.

Mihawk slowly approached the desk, swiping the two empty bottles and discarding them somewhere out of sight “I can see that” He replied lowly, a hint of a smirk in his voice, as he returned from the cabinet with another bottle. Mihawk removed the lid, and poured some of the clear liquid onto a cloth he pulled out from his pocket before settling in between your legs. Slowly, he raised his free hand to run up the length of your thigh towards the direction of the bullet wound.

“Jeez, atleeeast buy me a drink first” You slurred, eyes following his calculated movements.

Mihawk paused, yellow eyes flicking up to give you an incredulous look. “I think you’ve already had more than enough” He replied, before continuing to undress the bandages wrapped around the lesion “I just need to clean the wound, you don’t want it to get infected now, do you?” He countered, tone as rich and full bodied as the wine flowing through your bloodstream.

You shifted your posture in a way that made the swell of your breasts more noticeable as you hummed in fake consideration. “No ssir”.

Mihawks eyes darted up distractedly before returning to what he was doing.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but there was something so strangely intimate about the way he was re-wrapping the fabric that got you a little hot under the collar. Like how his calloused fingers would occasionally brush the sensitive skin, exposed by the rip in your trousers, and the way that they lingered there a little longer than necessary. Or how the muscles in his arms would clench and flex, as he tied the bandage tighter. You had to bite back a moan, as you pondered whether his dexterous talents extended to the bedroom.

Mihawk eventually finished up (a little too quickly for your liking) before collecting the old bandages and tossing them in the bin under his desk.

“Are you aware that you just consumed a months worth of wages in alcohol?” Mihawk asked, returning to his previous position between your readily parted thighs. Your eyes grew twice the size, as the weight of his words sank in—Did you really have that little self control?

“Despicable” He tutted, using those same calloused fingers to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. Before you could even utter a word in response, Mihawk had effortlessly picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder in one swift movement, causing you to let out a high pitched yelp in protest. He turned around and set out on a rapid pace towards the door.

Oh shit.

You might have actually pushed him too far this time. Apparently, ransacking Mihawk’s precious wine collection is a crime punishable by death, and right now you were fully anticipating for him to follow through and sling you overboard—You should have just gone for the rum.

Your helpless body dangled from side to side, as Mihawk kicked the door open to what you assumed was the upper decks, taking a few more steps before stopping dead in his tracks. You began saying your final prayers, as your body started hurtling through the air at an ungodly speed.

Much to your surprise, your weight was supported by the soft pillow and mattress of a single bed. Instead of flinging you overboard, he must have brought you to the spare room opposite his.

“Now rest—As much as I can appreciate that you have an injury, I’d like to get some sleep of my own. You can slack off in here from now on”. Mihawk said curtly, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Slack off

Now that was just rude…

Part 3

#mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk smut #mihawk x you #enemies to lovers #kinda #opla fanfiction #opla mihawk #opla smut #one piece #opla

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albed-hoe · 3 years ago

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Genshin Boy Body Types

Characters: Aether, Albedo x GN!Reader

Warnings: Discussions about body builds, height, reader is taller than both characters!, NFSW; MINORS DNI!

Word count: 547

A/n: Suddenly became thirsty ig and decided to write my headcanons on what the Genshin boys’ body types are like! THESE ARE ALL BASED ON READER BEING AROUND 180cm!!

Aether

I see him being around 163cm tall.

Perfect height for head pats and back hugs to rest your head on top of his (pls do so, he loves them sm😔).

He is very very light, so pls pick him up and carry him around in the mornings, he doesn’t function too well without food in his lil tummy.

Speaking of that, his build is definitely very slim. His stomach is flat with his abs and pectorals slightly accentuated due to his highly physically demanding commissions.

Of course, he may look very slim, but he is by no means weak and is very capable in a fight!

Despite being so skinny, I can see him having a pretty big appetite (no wonder he’s such good friends with Paimon…)

So pleaseeee make him his favorite food and sweets he will love you so much.

Speaking of love, he absolutely melts when you run your hands from his shoulders, down his chest and stomach, it sends huge chills down his spine, and you can physically see goosebumps form on his arms.

I see him loving any type of physical contact, but kissing his belly button???? Dead. K.O.

Aether is no longer functioning!!

Take previous information as you will👀 (He might moan)…

He generally just has a very sensitive tummy, so give it lots of love!!😼

All in all, Aether is definitely an avid body-worship enthusiast so make sure to give him the praise he deserves!👹

Albedo

Well, if it wasn’t already obvious, I’m his husband so all of the following information is confirmed to be true❗

Around 158cm, very smoll, pocket sized alchemist.

He enjoys you resting your chin atop his head and back hugs as well, but…

FOREHEAD KISSES!!!

He loves them sm they just bring him an indescribable sense of calmness and he gets a huge dopamine rush hehe

He is slightly smaller than Aether and doesn’t have such physically demanding work, so I headcanon that he has a flat tummy with a slightly defined midriff.

Like the outline of the abs but not really the abs themselves if that makes sense? Like the V shape that comes down from below the ribcage and to the pelvic area.

Whatever, all you need to know is that it’s very cute and enticing to touch.

Just like Aether, Albedo does not function in the mornings before having his coffee, so you have the honor to carry this little cutie around like a koala stuck to a tree.

He gets a little bit horny when you grab his waist from behind and leave a gentle kiss at the base of his neck before sitting him down at the table for breakfast.😫

On that note, he really likes when your hands roam around anywhere on his body.

Whether it’s his head, arms, legs, tummy, ass, co-

Anyways!

When things get a little more heated, running kisses down his torso will reward you with quiet, adorable little moans.

The second you get to his nipples, it’s over for him.

He’s now a shivering, panting, blushing mess in your hands, and nothing can stop you from keeping on going…

Moving on, Albedo is just touch starved and is in serious need of loving affection, so be sure to kiss that cute little tummy of his!😼

Sorry, I got a little thirsty for Albedo😭

#genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #aether x reader #aether x gn reader #aether x y/n #albedo x reader #albedo x gn reader #albedo x y/n

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 3 years ago

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On the whole trope of 'person sleeps around until they find The One', I see you and I raise you 'person sleeps around while pining for someone else'. Drives me NUTS when the narrative is all like 'I've been madly in love with Character A since was I twelve. Anyway, who am I gonna sleep with tonight?'

I FUCKING HATE THAT

That's not love. You don't love someone and then sleep around. It's garbage.

Okay, side rant here, but I've read a lot of non-fanfic M/M romance, and pretty much every couple has at least one person who is a whore. They sleep around and go out and hook up and that's treated as just part of the typical gay experience. I hate this too. People wanna whine about representation? Okay, I want more normal gay representation. Stop painting us all as club sluts who aren't happy unless we're going out every week and getting laid. Stop writing us as shallow sex fiends with 6 pack abs and tight asses. Start realizing that there's a difference between romance and erotica. Not every romance novel has to have graphic sex scenes with hot guys. Not every gay guy needs to be thirsty 24/7 until his horniness and slutiness is magically cured by meeting the other main character. Stop acting like it's normal to have orgies and get plowed every weekend.

And yes, I know the "gay community" is largely shallow and sex obsessed. But not all gays are part of that community. We don't all go to clubs. We don't all sleep around. Some of us are self-conscious. Some of us not conventionally attractive. Some of us don't like certain sex acts. Some of us are shy. Maybe try writing those characters every once and a while instead of trying to turn other middle aged straight women on with your hot guys who can't stop having sex.

And speaking of shy, let's bring this back around to the original ask and add on that I hate when a supposedly "shy" character also sleeps around. They can't hold conversations and they don't like their body, but it still has to be mentioned that they have casual hook ups because I guess all guys are loose and can't help throwing themselves around. As someone who is shy and who does hate their body, I can tell you I'm not getting naked with someone unless I feel comfortable. And if someone does hit on me, I'll be too flustered or self-conscious to respond. Even if I was secretly the hottest guy in the world but I just couldn't see it, I'd still react this way, because my self-perception is that I'm unattractive and it's embarrassing to be seen or touched by other people. Even if 1000 guys hit on me per day, I'd still act this way. If I was going to hook up with someone outside a romantic relationship, it would be a friend. Someone I'm comfortable with who I have a reasonable expectation of what I need to do to satisfy them without fumbling around like a nervous wreck. So if you're writing a shy guy character and you can't stomach the idea of a virgin 20 year old, at least let him hook up with someone he knows so it's plausible that he might actually feel comfortable enough to sleep with them.

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badassbuchanan · 4 years ago

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Secrets and Spies

Request: Could you write something where the reader and bucky have been seeing eachother for a while but no one from the team knows. But they know something is different with bucky so they follow him one night to the readers place and kinda catch them in the act? I don't know if that makes sense

Warnings: smut; shower sex, loud sex, unprotected sex, swearing and some really bad writing skills on my part!

a/n: my first request, yay! I hope it came out okay! it’s different to the writings i’ve done before - I hope it makes sense

also I'm sorry if you didn't want this to be smutty but my thirsty ass brain took the ‘catch them in the act’ part a little too literally. I'm just a whore for bucky let’s face it.

“You coming to the game with us next week, Buck?” The blonde haired Captain asked his childhood friend as he stood with him and Sam in the kitchen.

“Hm?” The long haired winter soldier looked up from his phone which had previously captured all of his attention.

“The baseball game,” Sam frowned at Bucky suspiciously, crossing his arms as he leaned his back against the kitchen worktop. “The one we talked about last week.”

“Oh,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded, lifting his metal hand to scratch the back of his head. “Uh yeah,” he looked back down at his phone which was now buzzing in his hand. “Um, I’ll be there.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Bucky was out the door, lifting his phone to his ear as he softly answered “hello.”

Sam and Steve turned to look at each other with a puzzled look on their faces.

“You know he’s been acting weird right? Even for him.” Sam raised his eyebrows at Steve who rolled his eyes softly, leaning his hands on the counter.

“He’s probably just stressed or something.” Steve dismissed Bucky’s recent behaviour, but even he’d noticed how distant and odd his oldest friend had been acting.

“Steve, I know you always want to see the best in him.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave in seriousness, mirroring Steve’s stance from across the kitchen bench. “But don’t forget what he’s capable of.”

“No, that wasn’t him. That was Hydra.” Steve defended Bucky, hitting his palm against the worktop before lifting it to rub his jaw anxiously. Sam’s words were making him worry.

“Okay, so what if Hydra, starts controlling his mind again?” Sam spoke softly, understanding what the weight of his words were doing to Steve. “Regardless, that doesn’t excuse his sneaking around, all the secret conversations, the frequent disappearing, or the fact that he is constantly distracted.”

“Oh, so it’s not just me who thinks Mr.Bionic is acting like more of a weirdo than usual?” Tony waltzed into the room, removing his sunglasses as he did so.

Steve shot Tony a warning glance but nodded his head anyway. Bucky had been acting strange for a while, it started off with small things, but now he was hardly ever around. And when he was, his mind was distant. Everything Sam said was true and Steve could only ignore it for so long.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me he’s arranged to meet someone tonight.” Tony added, shoving a handful of almonds in his mouth as he did so. “You might wanna keep a close eye on him.” He more instructed than suggested, shrugging his shoulders before leaving the room to answer his ringing phone.

Steve loved Bucky. He believed in Bucky. But he couldn’t deny the small amount of constant doubt that lived in his mind. What if Hydra was still dormant in Bucky’s brain, controlling him with such a subtlety that no one would notice?

Steve let out a sigh, running his hand through his pushed back blonde hair. He was torn between trusting his childhood friend and doing his job as an Avenger to protect the world from potential threats. “Just let me talk to him.”

Sam nodded understandingly as the kettle clicked, signalling the water was done boiling just as he turned his back to grab a mug from the cupboard.

—Bucky’s POV —

“The baseball game,” Sam frowned at Bucky suspiciously, crossing his arms as he leaned his back against the kitchen worktop. “The one we talked about last week.”

“Oh,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded, lifting his metal hand to scratch the back of his head. “Uh yeah,” he looked back down at his phone which was now buzzing in his hand, Y/N’s unsaved number flashing on the screen. “Um, I’ll be there.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Bucky was out the door, lifting his phone to his ear as he softly answered “hello.”

“Hey mister,” The sweet voice cooed through the phone, a bashful smile appearing on Bucky’s face as he leaned against the wall. “You coming over soon? My housemate’s gone out for the night.”

“Yeah, just finished working out with the guys. I’ll have a shower and then make my way to you.” Bucky fiddled with the drawstring of his grey track pants absentmindedly as he spoke.

“Or you could have a shower here,” Y/N spoke in a suggestive tone. Bucky living at the compound and Y/N’s housemate almost always home meant they never got much alone time without having to worry about Y/N’s housemate hearing what they were up to. “We could even have one together.”

Bucky’s eyes almost popped out of his head, her words catching him by surprise as he pushed himself off of the wall to stand up straight. “I’ll be there soon.”

Y/N chuckled at Bucky’s attempt to try and keep his cool, her heart skipping a beat at his excitement. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Okay.” Bucky breathed through a bashful smile. turning quickly to walk back down the hallway.

— Sam and Steve‘s POV —

Bucky walked back into the room in a slight rush.

“Hey, Buck. We need to talk.” Steve looked Bucky up and down, analysing his body language to test his reaction. No matter how busy he was, Bucky always made time for Steve and vice versa. They were always there for each other.

“Yeah buddy, later. I have to go.” Bucky turned to reply to Steve quickly before walking down the stairs out of sight.

Sam turned around to face Steve, mug in hand as he chuckled. He shook his head, looking up at Cap who was frowning in both confusion and concern.

“Okay, we need to find out what’s going on with him.” Steve crosses his arms, biting the inside of his lip as he racked his brain for any and every possible solution to reason Bucky’s behaviour.

— Bucky’s POV —

“C’mon Buck, we still have to cook it.” Y/N giggled softly as she watched her boyfriend dig his finger into the raw brownie batter they’d just finished mixing.

Bucky lifted the chocolate covered finger towards his mouth, licking off the mixture as he shrugged. “Taste good enough to me.” He smiled cheekily, using his metal arm to pull Y/N against his chest.

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands playing with his hair as she admired his handsome face. Bucky leaned down to press his lips against hers, the sweet taste of chocolate enticing her in.

She moaned against him, tilting her head as Bucky let his tongue run teasingly over her lips. “How about that shower, hm?” She mumbled against his lips, feeling the kiss heating up fast.

Bucky moaned with a nod, feeling his cock stirring beneath his sweatpants. Y/N made a quick move to turn away from him, putting the brownie mixture in the oven.

He couldn’t help but watch her ass as she bent down, the workout leggings she wore left nothing to the imagination. He bravely moved forward, his hand slapping her ass cheekily as she quickly stood back up.

“Hey!” She shot Bucky a glare, smiling at the same time after she made sure to set the timer on the oven. “Save it for the shower.”

Bucky chuckled in amusement as he followed her down the hallway of her house which he’d become so familiar with. He didn’t go many places outside of the compound, and Y/N’s house felt like his special little hideaway from everything and everyone.

Y/N adjusted the temperature of the shower before removing her clothes, turning around to face Bucky as she did so.

Bucky couldn’t help but get distracted as she undressed, watching her every move. She walked towards him when she was left only in her panties, running her hand over his stomach.

“Need some help?” She offered, looking up at him innocently as she tugged on the tie of his sweatpants.

Bucky clenched his jaw as he looked down at her perky tits, nipples hardened in the cold air. His cock twitched at the sight of her bare skin, his metal hand reaching out to palm her breasts.

Y/N reached her hand inside his sweatpants, grabbing hold of his cock as her mouth dropped opened in shock. “Already so hard, Buck.” She smiled widely, slowly pumping his hard member in her hand.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, his hips bucking into her hand as he tugged on her nipple. Y/N felt her arousal dripping onto her underwear from the thought of his cock inside of her.

“Baby stop or I’ll cum.” Bucky grunted, his face screwing up as he grabbed hold of her hand with his flesh one, his metal hand still full of her boobs.

“I don’t want you to cum until you’re inside me.” Y/N spoke against his lips, giving his cock one last squeeze as she felt her pussy start to ache in need.

Bucky’s cock throbbed at her words, his eyes drawn to watch her pull his track pants down his legs. She tugged his underwear down with them, admiring the way his hard length bounced to slap up against his stomach.

Y/N bit her lip, her hands running up his thick thighs and over his abs, pulling his t-shirt up as she went. Bucky helped her out, lifting the material over his head, leaving him completely naked.

Y/N pushed her chest flush against his, leaning up to kiss him teasingly. Bucky felt her hard nipples rub against his bare chest, her soft skin felt so good against his as he held her waist.

She gave him an open mouth kiss before turning around in his arms, still pressed against his body as Bucky’s cock rubbed over her ass.

“Take them off for me, Buck.” She said softly, guiding his hands to the waist band of her panties.

Bucky complied with her request, pulling them down to her knees before she bent over in front of him to take them off the rest of the way, causing his cock to nudge between her bare ass cheeks.

Bucky groaned at the feeling of his tip in her wetness, quickly pulling her hips tightly against him as he refrained from shoving his cock inside of her.

She smiled cheekily, knowing exactly what she was doing to him as she ground her ass against him, his cock saturated in her juices.

Bucky grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to stand back up, his chest flush against her back. He kissed up her neck, his metal hand sliding down between her thighs to rub her folds, immediately saturated in her slick.

“If you want me to fuck you like that, doll, all you have to do is ask.”

“Bucky!” She giggled softly, almost becoming shy at his filthy words. It was still something she was getting used to, Bucky was her first boyfriend.

He chuckled at her response, spinning her around in his arms to face him. He lifted his flesh hand to cup her cheek, pressing his lips against hers.

Y/N immediately kissed him back, relaxing into his touch as Bucky’s hands slid down to the back of her thighs.

His tongue pushed into her mouth the same time as he lifted her off of the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist as she let out a satisfied moan.

Y/N hugged his neck to hold her up, his thick length laying flush between her folds. She whimpered into his mouth, rubbing her hips forward slightly as Bucky walked them into the shower.

The heat of the water hit them immediately, warming their bodies as Bucky pressed Y/N’s back against the tiled shower wall.

“So gorgeous.” Bucky grunted softly, pecking her lips as he pushed his hips forward. Y/N’s pussy started to ache with a dull emptiness, his cock against her folds wasn’t enough to satisfy her. “I love you so much.”

She smiled into the kiss, tugging on his now dampened hair. “I love you, Bucky.” She looked up into his bright eyes, admiring his beauty as Bucky moved his flesh hand down between their bodies.

He grabbed hold of his cock, lining the tip up with Y/N’s entrance. The intense feeling caused her head to drop against his chest, kissing up the skin where his flesh fused with the metal.

Bucky’s heart fluttered at her touch, still so thankful to have found someone who loved and accepted him for him. It was something that he never thought would happen.

“Baby, please move.” Y/N moaned as her pussy clenched around his tip, causing Bucky to snap back to reality from his thoughts. He pushed his entire length inside her slowly, the tightness of her walls constricting him.

Y/N moaned again when he was fully inside of her, her nails digging into the flexed muscles of his back. Bucky stilled inside of her, knowing she’d need a moment for the stretching pain to subside.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N panted out in pleasure, her throbbing pussy hungry for more. Bucky bent his head to kiss a line from her collar bone to the underside of her jaw.

He began thrusting his hips slowly, allowing her pussy to adjust to his size. “You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” Bucky moaned into her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “We’ve got the house to ourselves remember?” He picked up his pace a little, his fingers digging into her ass so hard she’d definitely have bruised tomorrow. “Let me hear you.”

Y/N’s head fell back against the shower wall, her eyes closing as she let her moans flow freely. Her thighs clamped around his waist, trying to pull him closer as he fucked into her.

Her pussy clenched around his length, the slapping sound of his balls hitting her wet skin filled the room. It only turned Y/N on even more, that and the fact that they didn’t have to keep quiet for once.

“Bucky.” She moaned out his name shamelessly, arching her back which caused their chests to press together.

Water ran over their bodies as Bucky picked up his pace, already feeling his climax approaching as he listened to her moan his name.

Y/N kept up the volume, knowing it was driving her boyfriend crazy. Bucky stepped towards her, practically squashing her against the tiles.

The new position caused his pelvis to rub against her throbbing clit with every thrust. Y/N felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach, the pulsing of her clit making her toes curl.

She moaned breathlessly between thrusts, his pace quickening as she tugged on his hair.

“Oh fuck.” Bucky moaned, his head dropping back as he chased his high, fucking into her fast and hard.

Her pussy clenched around him with every thrust, the feeling of his big cock deep inside of her was something she didn’t want to end.

She moaned like a pornstar for him, her mouth dropping open as she looked into his eyes. Bucky bit down on his bottom lip, keeping his rough side locked away as he fucked up into her.

“Bucky, oh shit.” Her eyes widened in panic, her cheeks covered in a pink blush as she felt her orgasm taking over. “I’m gunna cum.” She cried, head throwing back against the tiles as she rocked her hips into his.

Bucky watched her in awe, always so proud to be the provider of her pleasure. Her hair stuck to her wet body, her breathing shallow as she continued to moan.

He didn’t let up his pace, watching her tits bounce against his skin as he leaned his head back into her neck.

His moans were muffled in her skin, Y/N’s only getting louder as Bucky fucked her through her orgasm.

Her body was so sensitive, the sound of their skin slapping together had grown louder with his erratic thrusting.

Y/N’s pussy throbbed around his silky length, her arousal dripping onto his balls. She turned her head to kiss him, so fucked out and breathless.

Kissing her made Bucky more determined to chase his high, his hands pinning her hips against the wall as he fucked into her.

“Oh, yes.” Y/N moaned loudly, her hands clinging to any part of him that she could. She panted in unison with his thrusting, Bucky’s face screwing up as he chased his high. “Oh, Bucky, fuck.” She cried out when his cock twitched inside of her.

Bucky felt his orgasm about to hit. “I’m about to cum.” He suddenly moaned, hardly even finishing the sentence before he released his load inside of her.

He dropped her legs to the floor, Y/N almost tumbled at how jelly-like her legs felt. She grabbed onto his biceps to steady herself, Bucky’s hands planted themselves either side of her head on the tiled wall.

He went to kiss her softly, missing her lips because of the way she turned her head. A sudden loud noise from outside catching her attention.

— Sam and Steve’s POV—

“Are you sure?” Steve looked over at Sam in the drivers seat with a slight frown of confusion on his face.

“Yes,” Sam nodded insistingly, turning the engine off which would’ve left them in total darkness if it wasn’t for the light illuminating from the house they sat outside of. “This is the last place F.R.I.D.A.Y traced Bucky’s phone.”

“But it looks like a normal house.” Steve’s frown didn’t leave his face as he stared out of the window, scanning the area for any sign of danger. “In a suburban area, full of civilians.”

He didn’t know what he expected to find when he’d agreed to Sam’s ridiculous plan to spy on Bucky. But it sure as hell wasn’t this. The unknown set off a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn’t fond of. A feeling that made him think the worst.

“Maybe Hydra has finally figured out that creepy warehouses attract more attention than normal houses.” Sam half joked with a scoff, turning his body to take off his seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s head immediately whipped round to look at Sam with a worried look on his face. Sam could sometimes be hotheaded and jump into things without a plan, which didn’t sit well with Cap.

“I’m going to check it out.” Sam replied matter-of-factly. He knew that Steve would oppose to what he thought was the best plan of action, so he wasn’t going to ask permission, which he realised wasn’t going to work.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Steve pressed his lips together in a line nervously, his eyes darting back to the location where they’d tracked Bucky.

“Okay, why?” Sam dropped his hand from where it had lifted to open the car door and looked over at Steve. He decided he at least respected Cap enough to listen to his Star Spangled reasoning.

“Well for one, if it is a Hydra location the perimeter will be highly alarmed, not to mention the calibre of dangerous assassins that will be waiting inside, you won’t stand a chance.” Steve sighed, thousands of thoughts bouncing around his mind as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully. “And even if it’s not,” Steve’s voice dropped as his eyes grew worried. “Bucky will know we were tracking him.”

Sam chose to stay silent of a moment, something that didn’t happen very often. He knew Steve had just opened up about the real reason he didn’t want to go charging in like a bull in a china shop. He didn’t want to hurt Bucky. He didn’t want Bucky to feel like his two best friends didn’t trust him. Steve didn’t want to betray Bucky’s character and allow him to know that he had his doubts. That he could become Hydra’s Winter Soldier again.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way.” Sam said softly, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“We’ll start by securing the perimeter, then if, and only if, anything seems off, we’ll move in for closer inspection.” Steve instructed directly, only opening the car door once Sam had nodded in agreement.

They’d chosen not to bring any uniforms or weapons, knowing it would only draw more attention to themselves. Making sure to shut the car doors silently behind them, the pair slowly approached the white picket fence surrounding the property.

Sam veered to the left, Steve to the right as they inspected the location. Nothing seemed off. A few lights in different rooms illuminated the house. The curtains were drawn, making it hard for the two avengers to know exactly what was going on inside.

“No sign of movement on the east side.” Steve whispered, loud enough for Sam to hear as he slowly moved to inspect the gate.

Sam looked over at where Cap was, walking casually to meet him, finding no need to be as stealthy as his partner. “I got nothing on this side either.”

Steve sighed, relaxing a little when he saw no sign of danger. He stood up straight and crossed his arms, he was growing more curious by the second.

“Why this house? This family? In this neighbourhood? Who lives here? There must be some significance. I’ll call Tony and get F.R.I.D.A.Y to run the house through the datab-“

“Shh.” Sam quickly lifted his hand, cutting Steve off as his eyes darted from side to side. There was an eery silence in the street, followed by a muffled sound which made Steve’s ears prick up in attention. “Do you hear that?”

The boys made eye contact, frowns covering both of their faces as they slowly turned towards the house. Sam gestured towards the front door with his head, Steve nodding in agreement as they carefully opened the gate and moved in towards the house.

They crept up the garden path, stomachs sinking as the noise becoming more apparent, informing them they were on the right track.

“It’s coming from around the side.” Steve whispered as he pointed his finger, Sam’s eyes drifted to where Cap was pointing with a nod of acknowledgment.

The pair continued on their search, ears on high alert as they followed the sound down the left side of the house, a small passage which was as dark as the night. They stopped when they got to a room illuminated with light, the small open window too high up on the wall for them to see inside.

Low grunts, loud moans and harsh slapping sounds made both of their faces go pale in fear. It had to be Bucky. But they weren’t his moans, they were the moans of a woman. He wasn’t alone. And it sounded like he was torturing her.

“Shit.” Steve couldn’t help but let the language slip passed his lips as he dropped his head in a sigh, his hands on his hips. He tried to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt, but the evidence was stacked against him.

“What do we do now, Cap?” Sam whispered sadly, he wanted Bucky to be innocent just as much as Steve did. Yes, he would wind up the metal armed soldier at every opportunity that he got, but he had grown fond of him.

“We can’t let this go on.” Steve gestured towards the window where the near enough screams of a women were coming from, knowing they had to act fast as he tried to think up a plan.

“Oh, yes.” The girl moaned before Steve could even begin to think, causing both Sam and Steve to look at each other in surprise. “Oh, Bucky, fuck.” She cried out in pleasure, both boy’s brains ticking over as they tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Oh. My. God.” A cheeky smile washed over Sam’s face as a chuckle erupted from his throat. Steve let his face fall in his hands, humiliated and relieved at the same time.

Steve was thankful that his friend hadn’t been taken over by Hydra again, thankful that he wasn’t causing anyone harm. But now, he was stood in an alleyway listening to his best friend have sex.

Steve, still in shock, shook his head as he looked up at Sam who was still softly chuckling.

“I’m about to cum.” Bucky’s sudden moan caused both boys to snap back to the moment, eyes widening as they realised they didn’t want to be in ear shot when their friend reached his climax.

“Go,” Sam said quickly, his hand lifting to softly push Steve when he didn’t move. “Go, go, go.” He added with a bit more urgency, both boys turning to run from the alleyway in such a hurry that they weren’t looking where they were going.

They didn’t even make it more than a couple of steps before a loud crashing sound came from beneath them. “Shit.” Sam sighed, scrambling to pick up the pipes which he’d knocked over in his rush to get away.

Steve turned around with a sour look in his face, watching Sam try to clean up his mess. There was no way all that commotion would’ve gone unnoticed by the couple inside.

Sam gave Steve a knowing look, the only chance they had of escaping was to make a break for it.

Steve nodded, turning to run back down the alleyway with Sam right behind him. They were almost in the clear, close to the front of the house when a metal arm punched across Steve’s face to stop him running, only missing him by an inch.

Sam stumbled into Steve’s back at his sudden halt, the metal hand twisting to grab Steve by his throat. He was pulled around the corner, his back shoved against the brick wall of the house harshly.

“Steve?” Bucky’s face dropped in shock as he let go of his best friend’s throat. He stepped back and looked to the side, noticing a sheepish looking Sam. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Steve and Sam both looked at each other before back at Bucky, noticing his wet body only covered by his track pants hanging low on his hips.

“I think the real question is, who are you doing here?” Sam asked cheekily, a cocky smirk on his face which got wiped off as soon as Steve hit his chest in annoyance.

“Bucky, we can ex-“

“How did you- Did you follow me here?” Bucky chose to ignore Sam’s comment, cutting Steve off before crossing his arms as he waited for an explanation.

There was another moment of silence as the two culprits looked at each other once again, saved by a small voice coming from beside them.

“Bucky, everything okay?” Y/N’s soft voice made all three boys turn to face her from where she stood on the porch, a slight whistle coming from Sam as they took in her appearance. Her hair was still wet, her body only covered by the shirt that Bucky had been wearing earlier that night.

Bucky sighed, running his flesh hand through his wet hair, his metal one firmly on his hip. “Yeah, baby. It’s just my friends.” Bucky said the word ‘friends’ through gritted teeth as he glared back at them.

“Oh,” Y/N perked up a little as she pranced down the steps to where they were, almost hiding behind Bucky as she cuddled his flesh arm. “I apologise for my appearance. If Bucky had told me you were coming I would’ve been more prepared.” She giggled softly, her reaction to the whole situation made all three boys frown in confusion.

They’d expected her to yell, to ask what the hell they were doing around the side of her house, to kick them out, to yell at Bucky for telling his friends about them without consulting her first, to just walk back into the house and ignore them. In that moment, Bucky knew she was a keeper.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Y/N spoke as the two boys opposite just blinked, half surprised that Bucky actually kept such a secret from them for this long. “I’m Y/N.” She held out her hand.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve immediately responded, stepping forward to shake her hand with a sweet smile.

“I’m Sam.” Sam followed, shaking her hand as

Bucky, still half confused about why his best friends were there, wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist. “So are you two-“ Sam dragged out the words.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Bucky responded shortly, Y/N’s heart fluttering at the word, something that was only shared between the two of them until now.

“Well we should all probably move inside, it’s a bit chilly out here tonight.” Y/N offered sweetly, gesturing towards the front door. “I hope you guys like brownies.”

taglist:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

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veinereastath · 3 years ago

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considering you make a lot of Harrow content (and bless you for it), do you have any take on what his past could've been? like, who he was, how he got into khonshu's service etc?

Ooooh, boy. This is something that's been bothering me since the show was around episode 3 and... You know what, it's hard, but I will try to put my chaotic thoughts into words.

Beware, long post, because I got carried away and broke Harrow's persona into little bits to analyze what I can.

Alright, alert, this is strong speculation / headcanoning.

* * *

1. There is very little information on Harrow, because those that we can be absolutely sure about are just those:

• he's American (though, funny enough, that's what wiki page says, it's not stated black on white in the show; but I guess it makes sense, so let's accept it as 100% solid fact),

• he was a former avatar of Khonshu and wielder of the Moon Knight title, • he's vegan,

• he speaks Ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and Arabic and knows a bit of Mandarin, but that last one isn't too important,

• he knows some big chunks of history, probably (I'm basing this suggestion on the things and people he mentioned to Steven in episode 1),

• if we accept a loose idea that Harrow is around the same age that Ethan Hawke is, we have early-fifties friendly neighbourhood cult leader.

Aaaand that's it. Bit disappointing, especially since this is the time where someone thirsty for more knowledge would get their hands on the comics and learn more, but... Being a Harrow stan has a big problem, and that is - Arthur Harrow in the show is a totally new, mostly improvised character that barely has anything to do with his comics counterpart (honestly, it came out way better, but still, that means we barely have any outside knowledge).

Fun fact if you haven't watched Assembled: The Making of Moon Knight - the very first idea/draft for Harrow was, according to the producers, Harrow that is some kind of shady billionaire instead of what we got in the end. Also came out way better, I think.

* * * 2. I have all Harrow scenes, even the few-second ones (him standing menacingly in the bus from episode 1, woah), and at this point I've probably memorized all of his dialogue lines, but you know what... Damn, it still barely gives any idea for what he might've been up to in the past. However, if someone came to my room, put a pistol to my head and told me to write few ideas about his possible occupation pre-Khonshu I might have, I would pick these: • psychologist / psychiatrist: let's be honest, Harrow is very good at manipulating people, effectively using his words, body language and touch, and while it's something that you can learn without any sort of psychological degree, it would just fit pretty nicely. It would also tie with how he's portrayed in Marc's & Co mind palace. Notice how his mind totally swapped the roles of everyone from the show - the "good" guys are patients, while Harrow's disciples are hospital's personnel (Bobbi Kennedy and Billy Fitzgerald, for example - these two you could probably recognize from episode 2, where they came to Steven's apartment, posing as/actually being police officers). And on the top of that cake you have The Big Bad himself as... Well, a doctor. A soft-spoken, patient individual. It's interesting how Marc's & Co mind took Harrow's good qualities and put him in charge of his... Huh, let's call it therapy. After episodes 4/5/6 and scenes from that asylum I could genuinely buy Arthur as former doctor, because he indeed does have qualities that would fit into this category - I only suppose it was later he's worldview got corrupted.

The only 'but' I have in this theory - something tells me that Khonshu wouldn't be overly interested in a doctor of any kind being his avatar, but I could be wrong. Still, it irks me a bit. Not very Khonshu-style.

• historian: I won't lie, it's a very loose idea, but hell, who knows. Not much to say about this one, mostly just throwing it in your face for you to think about if you wish. It might be just me looking too deply into just one sentence from museum scene in episode 1, but it's still something to think about. Even if Harrow wasn't a full-time historian, he definitely knows a thing or two, though it could be because of his life experience. Let's be honest, people in their 50ties know something about the world.

• okay, bare with me on this, but! mercenary: listen, I know that Harrow doesn't look too much like a soldier material (though he clearly kicks ass of 2, well, actually, 3 people at once in Episode 6, because Steven & Marc are a package deal), but it would fit nicely with Khonshu's interest in avatars that both can and are mentally ready to get their hands bloody. It would also make an amusing connection to Marc himself, and if we really wanna speculate hard, we could try to somehow connect the Bushman-Marc-Layla's father dilemma with Harrow himself. I just find it curious that the murder of archeologists took place nearby Khonshu's temple, of all places.

Also, if Harrow truly were a mercenary, it would also fit the way he at once point decided that serving justice after the fact is way too late - because someone in this profession sees death on a nearly daily basis, meets people of questionable backgrounds, so that would be a nice beginning for him to just go mad with society, and at some point, also hate himself, in a way (throwback to his confession in the end of episode 3, where he says to Khonshu's ushabti that he enjoyed inflicting pain).

All of it also makes me think about the way he basically growled 'mercenary' towards Steven during their first meeting in the Alps in episode 1. Because it either suggests some kind of hidden contempt towards this occupation because Harrow knows first-hand how disgusting it is, or it also could totally destroy this theory because he actually meant it in a truly derogatory way without actually having first-hand experience in this field of work. As I said in the beginning, it's all a messy speculation, do with that what you will.

* * *

3. The other things I was wondering about is his general status of wealth in the past. Somehow I can't imagine him as a very wealthy person. Either he was just making a simple living at some point (that, however, would clash with the mercenary theory, since this work has a potential for getting a lot of money), or he was, maybe, at some point, totally homeless. An interesting things worth noticing that he said in episode 2 are those:

• "I'm curious, do you think that Khonshu chose you as his avatar because your mind would be so easy to break, or because it was broken already?"

and:

• "I know that being on the right side of things is important to you. Khonshu always tries to ensnare those with a strong moral conscience."

^ also, I find it funny that right after he says that, Khonshu does his typical temper-tantrum shenanigans, knocks over some food and says "You have no conscience." I know that Harrow couldn't hear him at this point, but I find it more probable that Khonshu actually meant it as an offense towards Harrow. I genuinely doubt it was towards Marc/Steven. Steven especially, he's too pure, and he was in control of the body at the time.

Now, as everything else that Harrow says, those sentences as well must be taken with a grain of sand salt, because he knows that Steven is totally lost at what's going on, so Arthur tries to take advantage of it and manipulate him into getting the scarab's location. However, if we accept what he says as truth - and I'm willing to do so in case of these specific lines of dialogue, especially since I believe that Harrow is not truly a liar, but more likely he lies by omission.

Now, the point I'm trying to make is this - we actually know Khonshu has a weak spot for people with broken minds, for example he got Marc into his service when he was truly at his worst, with a gun pressed to his head. I can believe that he might've gotten Harrow in a similar way - either when he had no home, no money and no perspectives and was close to ending himself, or, if we accept the possible mercenary lifepath, he could've broke out of this line of work and found himself tormented with, perhaps, some sort of PTSD and crushing guilt + disgust because of the society as whole. This would make him a person with a broken mind, or one that is on the verge of breaking and just needs a soft push - and surprise, wild Khonshu emerges.

Another important, in my opinion, line of dialogue is this one, from 'Dr. Harrow' in the asylum, by the end of episode 4 (for those who don't remember, he says it to Marc as he's during a sort of panic attack and tries to run away):

"Truly, I understand how you're feeling. I too have suffered from mental illness, breaks in psychic awareness, manic episodes, followed by depression."

Okay. This is, once again, a dangerous territory of 'how much of actual Harrow is in Dr Harrow', because we don't know that, we don't know how much of this Harrow is actually Marc & Co projecting. But if we take it as another hint towards the actual Harrow and his past, we are getting a nice little clue: he indeed was on the verge of breaking, or even totally broken at some point. And once again, we can speculate that either he was a psychologist/psychiatrist that just got overwhelmed with the cons of this line of work (and believe me, it is very tiring, and psychologists also have their own psychologists and so on, it goes in circles basically) or he was a mercenary that suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

* * *

4. Last but not least - at what point did Harrow got invested into Egyptian mythology in general, if ever? Because we know that Marc was probably quite dim in this area (for example, he doesn't know who Khonshu when they meet, he doesn't know Hathor after years of servitude, and Hathor is one of the main characters of the Egyptian pantheon!), and yet Khonshu was interested enough to pick him up, revealing himself to someone who had nearly no knowledge about Egyptian gods at all. So, there are two possibilities:

a) Harrow was also taken in a similar way, not interested in the history of ancient Egypt whatsoever until Khonshu picked him up as his Moon Knight,

b) Harrow had either a general idea, or, even better, already was quite deep into the ideas of Egyptian gods. Hell, considering how hell-bent he is on the idea of justice, even if twisted, it is possible that he himself turned to Khonshu during his breaking point in life because he wanted to, and he was the one who searched for some sort of contact, if he was devoted enough to somehow believe in these gods' existence.

After mixing it up, connecting the dots here and there, there are two main (!!!) headcanon (!!!) backgrounds for Harrow I can come up with.

a) former psychologist/psychiatrist who got overwhelmed with the mental ilnesses of his own patients, quite possibly those who suffered some sorts of trauma from abuse/general injustice, and at some point lost control over himself; he delves deep into depression, and being already somehow interested in the idea of egyptian justice, at some point he gets maniacal enough to genuinely try and contact Khonshu, maybe in the midst of one of his panic attacks or those breaks in psychic awareness he mentions in episode 5. Khonshu sees a pretty nice catch and a mind broken enough to easily get twisted into a well-fit avatar, and so Harrow begins his bloody rampage in his name.

b) former mercenary who, during his escapades, saw first-hand a lot of violence, maybe even got captured and tortured at some point (!), suffering some sort of PTSD. He barely has any grip around the idea of egyptian mythology, but Khonshu appears and possibly gets him out of an unescapable situation (maybe from captivity), thus making Harrow continue on pretty much the same warpath, but now getting his hands bloody in a cause that at least seems better than just killing for money, therefore giving Harrow an illusion of setting himself straight. Also, being a mercenary gives a nice chance to learn Arabic.

* * *

5. Another thing worth thinking about is at what point exactly did Harrow turn his back on Khonshu and started being interested in what Ammit's views were. In this case, I barely can get anything solid from the show itself, so once again it's a speculation playground. I was thinking that perhaps he was a witness to someone preparing to abuse someone, making plans, and yet he wasn't allowed to act beforehand because Khonshu makes a point of waiting to the point where there is no turning back and evil has already been done. That sounds like something that might've make Harrow either start to strongly question his loyalty, or immediately break the deal and turn to Ammit, either momentarily, because he might've already been intrigued by the idea of her during his service (though I doubt it - if Khonshu was in his mind, it might've been risky), or found out about her during his separation from Khonshu, seeking a new way to regain some sort of sense in his life. Perhaps once again he gor thrown into the pit of despair and self-hatred, his mind broken both by past trauma and Khonshu himself being extremely abusive, desperately looking for answers, and boom, wild Ammit appears in some sort of old history books. This might've looked to Harrow like a final solution to the problem of world's injustice, and also serving justice to himself after genuinely enjoying inflicting pain on Khonshu's behalf (and perhaps even before then, if we accept the mercenary-lifepath possibility. Or he might've just been a psycho-doctor, though Harrow doesn't give me psychopatic vibes, honestly).

... Alright, I'm done. Thank you for the ask, anon. :") Have a treat in these trying times:

#carried away is a one way to call it #long post #arthur harrow #moon knight #mcu #marvel #ethan hawke

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fa1ryofshampoo · 4 years ago

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hii! i was wondering if you could do a smut request for heeseung please? where him and the reader are basically always getting cockblocked by the other members leaving both of y’all fed up(especially heeseung). until one day all the boys leave, so heeseung takes out his pent up anger? (i don’t know how describe it lol) on the reader. you can make it as detailed as you want!

thank you and have a great day! <3

hello! here it is! i enjoyed writing this aaA, i hope i did okay here huhu thank you for the request and stay safe! 💟

Thirsty

pairing: lee heeseung x reader

–––––

Today, I have the whole afternoon to myself. Thanks to the strength and power I had I was able to finish the tasks up until noon time. I lie down my bed and scrolled through my phone when my boyfriend's name appeared on my screen, a call incoming.

"Heedeungie." He chuckled at my cute voice.

"Y/N, how are you? Are you busy?"

"I'm good, I'm not busy. I have finished my tasks so I have the rest of the day to spare." I responded.

"Would you like to come over here? I cooked something for the two of us since the boys are all out." I sensed some shyness in his voice on the last sentence. A smile formed on my lips because of my boyfriend's thoughtfulness.

"Okay! I'll text you once I'm near there." We both said our goodbyes and I went to change clothes. Since I'm on the mood to wear something fancier than just jeans and a shirt, I went for a casual dress and a denim jacket matched with my boots. I brushed my hair and gave my pout a touch of my favorite lip tint before I stepped out of my apartment. Dang, it's cold.

While sitting on the bus, I tought of the times me and Heeseung spent on their dorm. Most of the time, the two of us will watch movies or play board games that will eventually end up to us making out in their room. Heeseung, as my first boyfriend, is clingy. He will not hesitate to make the first move and make me feel things I haven't felt before and I love that. One day, when we thought about finally having sex after and when we first tried to do it, Jungwon suddenly knocked on the room saying that the foods they ordered were there already. I remember clearly how hard he was at that time, how I sat on his erection restricted by his boxers and how my school skirt was bunched up to my waist, ready for what was about to happen. But although Heeseung is clingy, he gets pretty flustered easily. That's why when we got interrupted, I know we won't be able to continue anymore. When I came there another time, Heeseung forgot to lock the door so Sunghoon suddenly barged in, thinking the two of us are just chillin' because he heard songs playing inside. But then again, we were almost discarding our clothes. And again, we're interrupted.

Just everytime, every single time we would want to have sex, something has to come up and take away the moment from the both of us. I noticed how Heeseung was flustered and shy the first time it happened and how he was disappointed the last time we got interrupted. I'm wondering if the same thing will happen today even if the boys are out.

I finally saw the familiar sight of their dorm so I went down the bus and texted Heeseung that I'm about to cross the road. Before I could even cross the road, Heeseung was already outside waiting for me. When I reached him he immediately embraced me. He smells so freakin' good, goodness gracious. He wore just plain white shirt and a black baggy sweatpants. His hair now black with an almost mullet making him even more attractive. Can he get even more attractive?

"Someone missed me so much, the stares are melting me." I lightly slapped his arm making him laugh.

When I entered the dorm, Heeseung closed the door and trapped me between his arms, devouring my mouth. I was a bit surprised but immediately responded to the kiss. His hands ran down my hands and I can feel him taking his time. We're not rushing things and we're letting our bodies move accordingly. To my dismay, my stomach grumbled in the middle of our make out sesh. Heeseung opened his eyes, chuckling after he realized my stomach complained. I looked at him apologetically and before I could say anything, Heeseung opened his mouth to speak. "It's okay, Y/N. I know I prepared food and before they get cold and you collapse from hunger let's eat now." No wonder I had a big time crush on him up until now.

After eating the foods he prepared, he took my hand and played some upbeat songs to dance jam with. We continued to dance and converse until we finally felt like sitting already. We sat on the couch and decided to drink some soju.

"Time flies so fast, it's already four in the afternoon. When will the boys come home?" I asked him while he poured me a drink.

"Jungwon, Sunoo and Ni-Ki will be home by nine I guess. They said they'll be having dinner outside. Sunghoon, Jake and Jay won't be home until tomorrow morning due to their personal errands." My mouth formed an 'o'. It's very rare that the boys go out and have time of their own.

"Thank you for spending your spare time with me. I really appreciate it." I raised my glass and took a shot of it. "Oh, shoot. That still hits!" My face grimaced with the taste of alcohol. Heeseung laughed at my expression. He know how low my alcohol tolerance is so he never lets me finish a bottle to myself. After a few more shots, I know that tipsy is enough so I stopped. Heeseung drank the remaining drink. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on his temples. I took a good look at the sight in front of me. My boyfriend, gulping from the bottle, adam's apple shifting with every gulp, his shirt hanging low down to his chest, eyebrows furrowing from the aftertaste of the alcohol. Heavenly.

"You might drool, sweetheart." To my surprise, Heeseung was already mere centimeters away from my face. He played with the lace of the hem of my dress. "You dolled up for me today with this dress despite the fact we're staying at home and it's freezing cold outside." I can only look at him, too tempted of his actions. "I see you wore the lip tint I gave you. I was right when I thought it would suit you." His gaze went down to my lips. He held my hand and I squeezed it.

No words needed, he gave me wet kisses on my neck. "Do you know how much I waited to finally have time with you alone?" He managed to mumble while still kissing my jaw and everywhere else he could. I can feel he's getting impatient but he still made sure to savor every moment. I can only hum as a response. I turned his head to mine and kissed him. The taste and the flavor of the drink lingered everytime our tongues fought. "Your lips taste so good, Heeseung." He bit my bottom lip and held my hair to deepen the kiss. Fervor grew each and every minute, my denim jacket, his shirt and sweatpants now discarded while he held my thighs and I straddled him. He held onto my ass before standing up and giving it a sharp slap that made me yelp. I can feel the erection growing from his sweatpants. I rolled my hips to make my pooling core meet his member that made him groan. I noticed how his half-lidded eyes are now filled with so much lust.

"Heeseung, please just fuck me now." I continued to roll my hips in his. Growing impatient, he pinned me to the wall and bunched my dress up to my waist. He took his cock out and pushed my panties aside. He held my waist as I slowly sat down on his thick cock. When I was finally halfway, he thrusted up and picked up his pace immediately. His movements show how much he's thirsty to do this all along. Heeseung played and flicked my nipples with his tongue while kneading the other one. I didn't know how to react, all I know was the dorm was filled with our moaning noises. "You know how much I wanted to pound into you like this, hm? I know you wanted me to fuck you too huh don't you?" His brows furrowed while his eyes remained filled with lust. "Want me to fuck you real hard? Use your words baby."

"Yes, Heeseung please!" Tears started forming in my eyes from pleasure. "Yeah, I like that. Always say please, baby." I rolled my hips to meet his movements and moaned directly into his ear. I kissed the spot behind his ear making him moan. Heeseung opened their room and lay me down his bed without breaking our kiss and position. Once I was comfortably laying down, he took one of my legs up and placed it on his shoulders. I ran my hands on his well-built chest and his abs. I took time to admire my heavenly-looking boyfriend hungrily fucking me. "Fuck, Heeseung. You look so hot." I cannot contain it any longer. "You too, Y/N, you look hotter than hell." He pulled my dress up and throwing it somewhere in the room, leaving me with my underwear. He took away my bra and without a warning, he tore my panties not wanting to pull out from me. My mouth opened agape in surprise from him tearing my panty and his thrusts growing even faster, hitting a spot that made me emit a high-pitched moan. "Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me." He held onto my waist in the tightest way possible to hold me in place.

"So fucking tight." His growl made me unconsciously clench around him. He kneaded my breasts while the room was filled with the noise of our skin slapping, his growls and my moans. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He continued to moan my name each time. I didn't know his thrusts could still grow faster and deeper, a knot forming in my stomach making me hold onto his bicep while moaning his name. He drew circles on my aching clit, enough to overstimulate me. It's so intense my legs were shaking and my toes curling. "Me too, Heeseung. I-I'm cumming." He kissed me and rode my high until his own high came, my name and curses leaving his mouth. He pulled out and came on my stomach.

After catching our breaths from the intensity, Heeseung got up to grab tissues and clean the mess. "Finally, no one interrupted us." I chuckled. "Yeah, finally. I was really looking forward to finally having you to myself, Y/N." He covered my body with blanket before lying down beside me. "It's cold, jagi. Please hug me~" This was his complete opposite minutes ago. I snuggled to his chest, bodies sweaty but none of us cared. He wrapped his arms around my body and hummed me a lull while caressing my hair. What an adorable yet thirsty baby, I thought.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen imagines #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #heeseung imagines #jungwon #sunghoon #jay #sunoo #shim jake #niki #heeseung x reader

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years ago

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Requesting where Darcy is married to Thor and tells him that she pregnant!! 😍😍😍

Thunder Struck

AN: Thank you Nonnie, for this sweet ask.

I’ve been wanting to write Darcy for a while and also more Thor, so this was perfect.

I have gone a little off-piste from the ask though, and have situated the scenario earlier in their relationship just to get a pinch of angst and uncertainty in for flavour.

Mood board by me, divider by @fireflygraphics, beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Please check out my Master list

If you'd like to make a request, please check out my info post

Pairing: Darcy Lewis x Thor

Word count: 1.2k

CW: Unexpected pregnancy, pregnancy related anxiety, brief mention of abortion as a legitimate choice, fluff, love confessions, Himbo Thor, Darcy being thirsty on main, slight size kink, slight Daddy Kink, inferred sexual content.

Darcy sat down on the closed toilet seat with a ‘thunk’, hands trembling as she stared at the slim piece of plastic in her hands, two pink lines screaming at her. A bubble of somewhat hysterical laughter pushed its way up her throat and out into the relative silence of the bathroom before she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

Well what did you expect? She thought to herself. You are banging a literal God of Fertility on the regular.

Fuck!

They’d been friends for years, and it was only recently that things had… changed. It was all so new, and she had no idea where it was going. Something like this could either make or break them. What if it all went wrong and she was left on her own? But what if he feels the same way as you? The little voice in her head taunted her.

She was going to have to tell him, and if she didn’t do it now, then she might not do it at all, and…

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

“Darcy, my love? Are you okay?”

Thor’s voice rumbled through the door, almost causing it to vibrate.

“Um, yeah, sure. Be out in a minute!”

She tucked the test in her pocket and moved to the sink to wash her hands.

Now or never. Okay not never because it will become obvious in a few months, stupid, stupid Darcy.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, so startled that he was standing right there that she practically bounced off his muscled chest.

Fucking sinful pecs, all your stupid fault!

His hands came down onto her upper arms to steady her, and he ducked his head so he could look over her face.

“Are you sure you are alright? You look pale. Come sit.”

He practically dragged her over to her sofa, but as she was about to get herself settled into the cushions, he occupied the spot himself before pulling her down into his lap.

“Ooof. Um…err…” She tried to get up, so she could put some more space between them, try to centre her thoughts, but he just tightened his arms – stupid sexy arm veins! – and pulled her closer. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, hot puffs of breath washing over her neck and ear.

“Isn’t this better? I’m sure I've heard Midgardians say that anything can be made better with a hug.”

Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes. This conversation was not going to be easy.

“Thor, snuggle-bear, can you just let me go for just one teensy, tiny sec?”

She shifted with more determination, and with a huff of amused annoyance, Thor loosened his grip and she slid from his lap to sit next to him. He kept hold of one of her hands though, sandwiching it between his own giant paws.

Don’t think about what those fingers can do…

She regarded him for a moment, dirty blonde hair, chiselled jaw, broad shoulders, biceps almost as big as her head, those pecs that made the most perfect pillows, abs you could wash laundry on, and those delicious thick thighs. She could feel her arousal growing, despite the situation.

Cool it Lewis, pull yourself together.

“Okay, here goes…um...”

Oh, why did he have to be looking at her like that, summer sky blue eyes regarding her, wide and oh-so serious?

“So… yeah… um… we’ve been having fun, right, these last few months?”

“You have always been fun to be around my darling doctor, but yes, I would agree the last few months have been more…’fun’.”

He waggled his eyebrows and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Stop that! I’m trying to be serious here.”

His face suddenly dropped, making him look like a kicked puppy.

“Darcy, do…do you wish for our ‘fun’ to come to an end?”

Ah, fuck…

“No, it’s not that… it’s just… oh god…”

She thrust her free hand into her pocket, retrieved the test and popped it on his thigh. He looked down at it, confused at first, and then concerned.

“You have caught the virus? Do you need me to tend to you during your isolation? I cannot get sick from it and would be more than happy to be your nursemaid.”

He got up, letting go of her hand, the test tumbling to the floor as he bustled over to her small kitchen area and put the kettle on..

“I shall make you some chamomile tea, that is your favourite, correct?”

Darcy couldn’t stop the broad smile that swept over her features. How could such a fearsome warrior, and intelligent man, also be so naïve and guileless? She stood, retrieved the test, and walked over to him, stilling him with a hand on his arm.

He’s so big… everywhere… stop it Darcy, get on with it!

“Um, big-guy. It’s alright. I don’t have the virus. It isn’t that kind of a test.”

“So, you don’t have some kind of creature inside you wreaking havoc on your body?”

She smothered a laugh. She was going to love telling this tale to the others later.

“Well that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I kinda do…”

He looked at her, looked at the test in her hand and then back at her. His eyes went wide, and he took a step back, bumping into the refrigerator and making it wobble.

“Are you telling me..? Are you..?”

His legs buckled and he slid down the appliance until he was sat on the floor, staring straight ahead. Darcy looked at him, slightly worried by his reaction, and crouched down, lightly stroking over his knee.

“Okay, come on dude, just breath. It’s not the end of the world okay. We can discuss it all, and sort it all out if needs be. It’s sorta your fault though. God of Fertility and all.”

His head snapped up.

“Of course, it’s not the end of the world. It’s the start of a brand new one!”

He surged back to his feet, large hands spanning Darcy’s waist, lifting her, and then spinning them both around, causing her hair to stream behind her, and laughter to burst from her chest.

“This is the most wonderful news! You’re having a baby. My baby! Praise Odin! You, Darcy Lewis, have made me the happiest man in the whole of the nine realms. You are happy too, yes?”

“Well, I… erm… haven’t had a lot of time to really think about it, but yes, I think I am happy. And I hope that you and I can make this work, and be friends and raise a happy healthy child…”

He lowered her to the flow and silenced her with a kiss.

“I know we can make this work, little one, because I love you.”

It was her turn to be struck dumb.

“You… you love me?”

“Why of course! How could I not?”

“Because I zapped you with a taser the first time we met?”

“And what a tale that will be to tell this child, and our other future children.”

“Future children?” she squeaked.

“Yes”, he purred, voice deepening. “I have a feeling that as the God of Fertility, once I have seen you, round with my child, I will wish to keep you in that state.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips dramatically.

“Should have seen that one coming, of course the God of Fertility is going to have a breeding kink.”

He chuckled, before pressing his lips to her neck, nipping, and sucking on the delicate flesh. His hips pressed against her, his arousal growing more evident by the moment.

“Okay, Daddy-o, cool it.”

He let out a low growl and nipped harder.

“What if Daddy does not wish to ‘cool it’?” He circled his hips suggestively. “What if he, in fact, wishes to increase the temperature? Would you stop me, oh mother of my child? Would you want to stop me from worshipping you? Surely carrying and giving birth to the child of a god makes you a goddess?”

Darcy smiled, coyly, wrapping a strand of Thor’s hair around her index finger?

“I suppose, Daddy, if worship and goddess-hood are on the cards, I can allow it…”

He scooped her up, and hurriedly carried her towards the bedroom.

“Oh, and Thor-bear… I love you too.”

“I never had a single doubt.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tinnedowl @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @yarnforbrains @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @turbolisedcomet

#thor x darcy #thor odinson #darcy lewis #late writes #asks answered #thor odinson fluff #late to the party 81 #darcy lewis fluff

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ddarkhours · 5 years ago

Text

SKZ masturbating headcanons

Word Count: 1990 for the full thing; Requested: Nope hehe i just really wanted to do this:D

a/n: this is maybe my third time ever doing headcanons so we’ll see how this goes but i really liked writing this and it was me just being thirsty more than me writing it lmao anyway enjoy

Chan

Minho

I think Chan jacks off a few times a week. I feel like he’d do it mostly at home or in the bathroom but the thought of him doing it in the studio has been in my mind for a while. Like normally he’d go in the shower and turn on the water to mask any sounds, but sometimes he’s in the studio and he just needs to relax y’know. Also all of those background noises in some 3racha songs. He would put on some loud music, even though the studio is soundproof you can never be too safe, he would pull up a video on his phone (you decide if the video is his or not), and just pull his dick out, not fully taking his pants off. I see him groaning a lot and just breathing heavy, not really moaning especially since he’s alone. His hand doesn’t feel the same as you but it’ll do in the moment. I don’t think it would take him too long to cum and when he’d finish he would stop his movements, holding his cock at the base and just letting it shoot, groaning after every string of cum, and maybe a hiss here and there, either over his hand or in a tissue for convenience sake.

That curtain he has on his bed is really giving me many thoughts here hhh. Anyway. Because he sleeps naked and that curtain is there on his bed, we can all use our imaginations to see what usually goes down. Minho is a little shit, so I see him kind of being an exhibitionist and because he doesn’t share a bunk with anyone I can see him masturbating in his bed most of the time. I don’t think he’d be too into porn, I mean sure he watches it sometimes but he prefers to use his imagination here, thinking of what you two did last weekend or the last time you gave him head/he ate you out, your moans are occupying his mind while he does it. I feel like Minho likes to tease himself so he doesn’t cum too often. He’d rather have one mind blowing orgasm a week than a couple mediocre ones. I think he’d jerk himself off and edge himself a couple of times a week but not let himself cum, just for the thrill of it, to see how far he can take it, feeling himself half hard all day turns him on even more. And when he finally let’s himself cum he’d be so spent. Groaning a lot and moaning quietly, he’d slow down his hand to almost a painful speed going down towards the base of his dick. He’d shoot over his stomach and probably up to his chest since he hasn’t cum in a while and continue to move his hand until his dick is basically soft and his orgasm wore off.

Changbin

Now. Idk if it’s because they’re producers or What but I can also picture Changbin jerking off in the studio, but more often than Chan. He’d do it in there most of the times he does it, maybe a couple of times a week because he feels comfy in there. He would do it when he takes a break from work, he’d just let his mind wander and most of the time it ends up in the gutter. He’d start to think about you, he’d think about the last time you guys fucked, when he hit it from the back, the way you moved over his dick. I have a feeling he would rub his cock through his pants for most if not all of it, in case anyone knocks on the door or wants to come in. If anyone were to come in he would stop, immediately. He isn’t into showing off at all. Unless of course it was you but that’s not what this is about rn lmao. He might cum in his pants or pull his dick out just to cum, like Chan either over his hand or in a tissue, but I see him hissing a lot more than Chan, and when his orgasm hits slowing down and tugging towards his tip basically milking himself for as long as he can.

Hyunjin

OKAY. Hyunjin would do it at his desk, no questions asked. I think he’d watch a lot of porn. I think his favourite videos would be something of you, maybe a clip you sent him or something you filmed together, and I think he would really love it if it was a short clip that just looped over and over. He’d get so into it, matching his rhythm with the video. OH also he gives me the vibe of someone who’d use a cock ring:) just to drag it out a little longer. Also strikes me as the type of guy who’d pull his dick back and let it slap against his stomach. You know how dramatic Hyunjin is, he’d be moaning and groaning and throwing his head back when he got somewhat close to cumming, I think he also really likes dirty talk a lot so he’d whisper things as if you were there fhfdj. His head would fall back and he’d lean forward, spreading his legs more, squeezing near the tip and catching his cum in his other hand.

Jisung

Jisung is a bundle of energy, and I think he gets riled up easily so I see him jerking off almost probably every day. He doesn’t have a preference on where he does it, probably wherever he can get privacy at the moment and I also think he wouldn’t be embarrassed to ask for privacy. Like if he just got to the bathroom, rock hard from thinking about you all day, and someone tried to ask him to let them shower first he’d tell them straight up “Kinda have something I need to take care of”. Absolutely shameless. But sometimes when he wants to drag it out a bit or finally has some free time he gives the vibe that he’d have a fleshlight or those silicone eggs. He would pull up some videos on his laptop, imagining it’s you and that you’re riding him, thrusting up into the toy. He’d pull out to cum most of the time because cleaning it is a pain. He would jerk himself off so fast just trying to cum, his hand would go over his cock at lightning speed, letting out high pitched moans and shooting over his abs and just laying there with his dick in his hand as his heart rate calmed down… Alternatively if he’s super into it and just lost in the pleasure he’ll just let himself go and cum inside, shoving his dick as far as he can into it and holding it down as his spurts of cum would shoot inside.

Felix

Most of these have gone solo but even when jerking off Felix would want to do mutual masturbation or at the very least call you to hear your voice. Felix is so sweet:(( and he’s so clingy even if he can’t directly see you, he’d want you to talk dirty to him through the phone, and ask you to moan for him. I think he’d really be into facetiming and just watching you play with yourself, that’s what gets him off the most, knowing that you feel good too. He’d say things like “baby tell me how good you feel”, “I wish you were here with me” and such. I feel like he’d either ask you if he can cum or he’d ask you to cum with him. He’d be so into it, letting his head fall back and moaning super deep raspy moans, stroking his dick for you to see, shooting wherever it lands, he doesn’t care at that moment. If he was to do it alone I think he’d be into ruining his own orgasm and making himself cum a couple of times, doing this occasionally and only once or twice per round. He’d jerk off to the thought of you, using both hands to rub his cock and when he’d feel close he would remove his hands, leaving his body quivering, the thought of you pushing him closer and closer with his dick twitching until with one last breath he finally lets go and he cums just from the thought of you, your body, you taking him, he would moan and buck his hips into nothing, his seed landing all over himself and the floor/bed sheets. His spurts of cum would get weaker and weaker with each orgasm, until he finally let’s himself enjoy his orgasm and his cum would cover his hand.

Seungmin

Does it in the bathroom strictly, he’s a neat freak you can’t change my mind. Cumming anywhere besides the drain just seems messy and unhygienic. Seungmin is the only member that I don’t really have a clear picture in my head of. I feel like he could go both ways and just use his hands or have some sort of toy. I’m thinking vibrating cock ring so that he doesn’t have to use his hands as much. I can see him putting his arm on the wall and putting his face in the crook of his elbow to suppress any moans as he thinks of you. The vibrations of the ring are enough to make him cum on it’s own so his hand is stroking his dick slowly. oH he plays with his nipples a lot, even when he’s alone it makes him cum faster. He’d imagine you masturbating, his hand slowly starting to pick up speed until he’s breathing heavily, biting the inside of his arm, the vibrations of the toy making his legs shake and he’d spill his cum down the drain, his hand helping milk himself under the running water.

Jeongin

He’d do it a lot. He is the youngest so I’m imagining he would be horny a lot. He would do it on his bed as much as he could, laying on his back with his shirt pulled up and his shorts pulled down just enough for his cock and balls to be out with one hand behind his head. I think he watches a lot of porn too, maybe hentai but I’m not gonna go too deep into that. He would have his phone propped up either on some pillows in front of him or on the wall. He jerks off in waves- let me explain- he goes fast and brings himself closer to orgasm before slowing down, playing with his tip, massaging it for a little bit before going again. He’d do this a lot, everytime he would play with his tip he’d use his finger tips to massage behind the head where it feels reall good. It would make his legs shake and his cock twitch so much it would slip out of his hands sometimes, his jaw would hang open and he’d time it so it lines up with the best part of the video. When the person in the video cums it would send him reeling, it would be the tipping point that makes him cum. He would try to stay as quiet as possible, not only for the members not to hear him but also for his own enjoyment. He’d hold his hand still while he fucks up into it, pretending it’s the real thing. He’d aim for his stomach but with how good it feels it would be all over his bedsheets.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #lee know smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #skz smut headcanons #stray kids smut headcanons

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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💬 blurb request for ff!tommy smut?? honestly Chloe your writing is so good, and ff!tommy is my favorite and it would be such a blessing!! ilysm and congrats on 9k!

if you requested ff!tommy smut, I have rolled them all into one. because there was a surprising number, lol. y'all really thirsty for ff!tommy and honestly me too so here we go! I did y'all a little mix of headcanons and blurb, because all the requests were mixed. I tried to include everything from them all!

no more requests, the sleepover is over! I am just filling out all the ones left in my inbox!

okay, so, it's not like y'all haven't done stuff

I mean, he's hot, you're hot, and you're both mad in love

you've just not done that yet

but, it's been busy, and you kinda want it to be perfect

you had a whole weekend away planned, but it got cancelled last minute after another team injury that meant your team took over

and now, there's just a lot of pining

I mean, there's not much left to the imagination

you're no stranger to one another, a few showers and a lot of wandering hands has left you with a pretty solid fill of your imagination

if you really think about it, you can still feel the way cold shower tiles felt against your back as he scissored his fingers

or hear the way he'd groan ringing in your ears still when you'd go down on him before work

just to smirk all morning as it takes him hours to actually clean his head after a mind-blowing orgasm

not to mention the way your throat had been fucking sore after he'd gone down on you, a pillow over your face just to stop complaints from your neighbours

but you wanted more

you wanted to feel connected to him in that way, because there was only so much foreplay could do

and you were fucking needy

he'd whispered a lot of dirty promises in your ear about what he was gonna' give you, and you were waiting for him to deliver

this time was no exception

stumbling through the front door of your place

a pretty dress on a hook and a suit next to it, both still in their protective covers, waiting to go

steam from the bathroom was pouring out from under the door, and you whimpering embarrassingly as his fingers rubbed slowly across your clit, sucking marks into the skin of your chest where he knew your hemlines would cover

"tommy, please.."

"please, what, angel? tell me what you want?"

it had been a chaotic shift, a lot of adrenaline, and he'd smelled of smoke and been a little sweaty and dirty and he was pretty much entirely what wet dreams were made of

you'd been dripping since you'd gotten back to the station, and uncomfortable ever since

with your back pressed up to the counter, hair still dripping wet much like his own from the shower you'd recently taken, you let out another cry of his name

tracing your fingers over his chest, he twitched a little as you dragged your fingers over his nipples, and down, several spaces marked with raised pink skin, scars of all his saves, dotted between dark hairs along his chest and to his defined abs

"more, tommy, please.."

he grinned, head raising back up to capture your lips, and his fingers slid along slick folds

two slender digits easily slipping between your walls, pumping at the best speed he could manage from the angle

despite the relief, he wouldn't be enough

"no, more, like, I need you to fuck me, tommy."

"we don't have time, we'll be late for newt's birthday pa-"

"so we're late, newt'll understand. if I have to spend the whole night staring at you in that tight fucking suit, looking so fucking good I could pop, I won't make it, thomas. you hear me? 'might just die."

"you're gonna' die if I don't fuck you?" he'd tease, but slip his fingers free, raising them to his lips to lick them clean, and that fucking filthy look he'd get would take over his face. "well, I can't let that happen. I'd better fuck you real good, just to keep you in top shape."

"I think that's a good idea." You whispered, hands hooking underneath your thighs, fingers of one hand still wet as he lifted you, and your legs sealed around his waist. Only a second later, your back was meeting the bedding, stray droplets soaking into the fabric, and his body was following quickly after you. Kneeling before you don't he bedding, he was stretched out in all his glory, hard and toned muscle, dark hair trailing down from his pecs, and his cock tall and leaking, red at the tip in a way that made your thighs clench when he bobbed in the air.

Large hands pushed your knees apart again, letting out a harsh breath as he stared at you, gaze trailing up from your slick core to find you, propped up on your elbows. "You got no idea what you do to me, angel. Fuckin' hell."

"Think I got a pretty good idea." You whispered, red flush growing from his neck to his cheeks, but he gave you a cheeky wink nonetheless. Leaning down again, his lips found yours, a delicate kiss, and you bit gently on his lower lip, that deep and raspy moan you loved shaking along your body when he emitted it.

"You sure you wanna' do this? Want it to be perfect for you. Wanna' take you apart, piece by piece, make you mine."

"We have all night for that once we get home, you can make love to me, but right now, I just need you, Tommy. Been waiting too long." He groaned, your nails scraping over his chest, before your fingers were wrapping around his cock, his hips bucking into your hands.

"Well, if that's how we're gonna' do it, then flip over, hands and knees for me." The request jolted something filthy though you, and you did as told, turning over, before two large hands were palming at your ass. "D'you even know how good your ass looks in, like, everything? Fucking hell, if you weren't wearing heels tonight, I'd fuck you 'til you couldn't even walk. Maybe next time."

Lining himself up and sinking within your walls, your eyes were rolling back in your head. Thomas was by no means small, a voice in the back of your mind that was quickly silenced taunting you about comments once made, and the warmth of his chest covered your back as he leaned over you. Pressing several kisses along your spine, he gave you a moment to adjust, and you wiggled your hips against him.

Calloused hands were on your hips, holding so tightly you thought he might bruise, and he pulled back. One sharp thrust of his hips and he was sinking back into you, stretching you out all over again with a delicious kind of friction that made your jaw drop.

He repeated his actions, again and again, and you were sure you'd be getting noise complaints now, because you couldn't control yourself. His hands were everywhere, pulling your hair and rubbing soothingly over your body, every inch of skin being touched, and you were seeing stars. His voice was echoing in your ears, praises and groans, mumbles about how good you felt, like he wasn't making you see heaven with every thrust.

You could barely breathe, the building fire, the coil getting tighter and tighter, and when you finally snapped, it was with a few brief brushes of his fingers over your swollen clit. Your heart was beating so fast you couldn't barely feel it, but it felt like time stopped, groans and begs and the kind of grunts that only prolonged your own orgasm as Thomas came, pumps of searing warmth, until you were collapsing back into the bed together.

He rolled over, freeing himself from you to stare at the ceiling, and you copied him, panting for breath, and feeling like you were on fire. "Holy shit, that was incredible."

"I can't believe we waited so long for that, I don't know how I lived without it." He mumbled, head turning to face you on the pillow, and his body soon followed. Two fingers on one side of your jaw and his thumb on the other, he pulled you closer, leaving a passionate kiss on your lips. "You sure we have to go to the party? We should just stay here all night, and do that. In fact, we should quit our jobs, Just stay right here, fucking."

"How would we make money to eat?" You teased, and a cheeky look passed over his face.

"I don't know about you, but I've got everything I need to eat right here."

"Oh, you're so bad." You mumbled, pushing his face away from you when he let out a loud laugh, and you tried to scoot towards the edge of the bed. "What happened to waiting 'til after the party before fucking me until I couldn't walk, huh?"

Your legs were wobbly as you stood, wandering back towards the bathroom, and he propped a hand under his head, smirking as he watched you go. "Oh, you ain't had nothin' yet, angel. Just you wait 'til we get back."

#9ksleepover

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wendimydarling · 5 years ago

Text

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic.

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed.

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning.

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested.

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle.

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream.

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop.

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes.

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been.

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid.

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.”

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.

“For example, Miya writes:

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off…

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought.

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine.

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly.

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone.

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote.

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest.

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else.

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @achaoticaugust @demivampirew @raspberrydreamclouds I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

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i-did-not-mean-to · 4 years ago

Text

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

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qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

Note

So... Fedyor's and Ivan's first intimate night together sounded like it went off to a good start 👀🙄👀 (how to ask for deleted scene of that without asking for deleted scene)

Anonymous asked: so what you’re saying is, is that Fedyor was the first person Ivan slept with both consensually and where there was actually like a “yea i can’t wait to see you again” on both ends

yea no...i have NO feelings that make me feel soft about that AT ALL. nope. not at all.

thank you again for all your writing, i really look forward to everything you post!

Anonymous asked: Your highness, many praises for "the better half of me" , specially chapter 3. Humbly requesting another Fivan Smut.

You are all thirsty and demanding little busybodies and I salute that.

Have an extra-special Fivan First Time in Phantomverse Full Length Smut Chapter. It follows immediately on from chapter 1 of a sky full of stars, and is also available on AO3 for your sexy reading pleasure. Please note that this chapter is very definitely rated E, and can be found below the cut.

The bedroom door has barely closed behind them by the time they are kissing again, in deep, gasping gulps as if they cannot possibly bring themselves to stop. Fedyor grips Ivan’s shirt in both fists, pulling his head down and biting at his mouth, as Ivan utters a growly little chuckle deep in his throat that drives Fedyor even more insane. He has all kinds of plans about how he’s going to make the bastard suffer for the excruciating little pantomime he just put him through, but right now, he’s still too drunk on the euphoria of actually getting to do it. Ivan kisses like he punches (or at least so Fedyor presumes, since he’s never actually seen him do it): hard, straight, deep, and utterly without mercy, and Fedyor is already addicted to it. He steps on Ivan’s feet, then swings him around toward the bed and gives him a shove, and Ivan laughs out loud as he stumbles backward and sits down with a jerk. He looks startled but pleased at this evidence of ferocity. “Oh, Fedya, you are mad, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Fedyor informs him, hopping alternately on each foot as he yanks his sock off the other. “Because you are a dick.”

“But that seems to be something you’re into, huh?” Ivan says, with a dark, alluring playfulness that does absolutely nothing to get any of Fedyor’s wayward blood back into his head. He crooks a finger. “Come here. I thought you were swearing to punish me.”

“Oh, I am.” Fedyor strides to the bed, still fuming, and hops up onto Ivan’s lap, straddling him and bracing his knees on either side of Ivan’s hips. Then he reaches down and takes Ivan’s face in both hands, tipping it back and lowering his opened mouth to Ivan’s mouth beneath him, hot and hungry and soft and hard and relentlessly insistent all at once. Fedyor grinds his hips against Ivan’s, making both of them groan, until something occurs to him, and he pulls back. “Just to be clear. We’ve recently had some, um, communication issues. We need to be very certain that we both know what we’re intending here. I’m asking you to have sex with me. Is that also what you are doing?”

Ivan looks at him as if he’s either very dim or very adorable (possibly both). “No, why do you think that?” he says, giving Fedyor a brief heart attack. Then he adds, still utterly straight-faced, “After all, I often passionately kiss people that I am not at all intending to sleep with. Especially on their bed.”

“Oh my God.” Fedyor lets go of Ivan’s face and punches him in both shoulders. “I cannot believe I like you so much. You are the worst person.”

“Mmm?” Ivan turns his face up, his arms slipping around Fedyor’s waist and pulling him closer, their lips meeting and musing, as Fedyor’s hands stray to his back and slide up beneath his shirt. His fingers explore the hard, sculpted muscles of Ivan’s torso, their faces pressed together, their tongues slipping into the other’s mouth, as Fedyor scoots up on Ivan’s lap and Ivan puts one hand under his ass and hitches him still closer. When they break apart for air, Ivan murmurs, “I would also very much like to have sex with you now, Fedya.”

“Was that so hard?” Fedyor asks, with a bit of a huff. “You utter troll.”

Ivan quirks an eyebrow devilishly, but doesn’t deny it. Then he pushes Fedyor off his lap, provoking a little whine of deprivation on Fedyor’s part, and stands up. As Fedyor stares at him in bemusement, since this is not normally the next action performed by someone who has just declared their carnal intentions to you, Ivan unbuttons his shirt, pulls it off, and folds it neatly before putting it on the chair. He then does the same with his undershirt, and even though the scenery is spectacular, Fedyor has to ask, “What are you doing?”

“I am taking off my clothes,” Ivan says, as if Fedyor might have recently gone blind in addition to his other deficiencies. “I believe that is often a necessary prelude to having sex.”

“Yes, but – ” Fedyor feels once more blindsided, which might be a recurring theme when it comes to Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. “Don’t you think we should – I don’t know – slow down and enjoy it? Let me do it? Or – something?”

He isn’t sure if Ivan’s version of sex involves nothing more than stripping off, pumping away, and then falling asleep immediately afterward, but he hopes not. Either way, even if they are now properly using their words, there is still no guarantee that they are actually communicating. Ivan unbuckles his belt, unzipping his jeans, and Fedyor springs off the bed, catching and holding them at his hips as he’s about to pull them down. “It’s not that I don’t want you to do that,” he says. “I very much do. I just – do you have another appointment tonight or something? There’s no rush.”

Ivan looks down his long nose at him, eyes crinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. You said that you wanted us to have sex, didn’t you?”

“I do, I really do. Ugh.” Fedyor swallows hard, which doesn’t make his throat any less dry. “It’s just, haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

He uses the English word, because saying something like эротическое стимулирование (roughly “erotic stimulation”) is about as sexy as a colonoscopy. Then he wonders if perhaps Ivan hasn’t heard of it at all, but that doesn’t seem likely. He reaches out and puts his hands over Ivan’s, as Ivan himself is still looking supremely baffled. “It’s okay,” he says. “I want this. I want you. I just – you surprised me, that’s all.”

“You should be more direct, Fedyor Mikhailovich,” Ivan informs him, in a bossy voice that really shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. “So explain what you want, if it isn’t this.”

“This is my fault?” Fedyor pokes Ivan in the ribs (partly because his abs are something to behold, Fedyor can’t keep his hands off, and he dearly desires Ivan to suffer at least twice as much as he wanted him to suffer before, which is saying something). “I wasn’t sure if we were dating for two whole months, now you come in and – and – ”

He splutters into impotent silence, since he doesn’t know why he’s arguing with Ivan when he really wants to be kissing Ivan, and when obviously nothing has happened that he actually objects to. He shakes his head, swears to himself, and says, “Okay. If you’re in the mood to lay down clear parameters, what do you – what do you want? What are you expecting? Hand job, or blow job, or you know, uh, full sex? Or something else? I have condoms and lube, I’ve done most of the usual stuff before, but nothing too insanely kinky. Not that that’s bad, if you’re into that. I could be up for experimenting. Just tell me what you’re expecting from me, what gets you off. I want this to be good for you.”

Ivan looks at him with the expression of a man who has been handed the wine list at a gourmet restaurant and asked to select just one. When he doesn’t answer, Fedyor finally begins to get a sense of what might be going on. Ivan might have had sex before, as evidenced by his no-nonsense undressing, but making love – that doesn’t even appear to be part of his vocabulary. There’s an uncomfortably long pause, as Fedyor’s words hang in the air. Then he asks, his voice very soft, “Do you even know what you like?”

Ivan starts to answer, then stops. He looks away, almost as if he’s ashamed, and his Adam’s apple moves up and down as he swallows. Then he makes an odd harrumphing noise, as if he’s trying hard to sound like his normal gruff self. “I am not a virgin, Fedya.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Fedyor takes a step closer, running one finger along Ivan’s broad shoulder, the strong arch of his collarbone, the heavy muscle of his upper arms, the fine, rough hair of his forearm, his big hands and long, capable-looking fingers. Ivan closes his eyes, a restrained shudder flowing through him, as if he is holding his breath. Fedyor lifts Ivan’s hand to his mouth, turning it up and kissing the calluses on his palm. Still more softly, he says, “It’s okay, Vanya. You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t – ” Ivan harrumphs again. “Fine. You know more about this than I do. I have not – before, with the others that I have been with, it is…” He shrugs defensively. “Look. I am not bad at it. In fact, I am quite good. I can show you, if you don’t believe me?”

He makes a grab for Fedyor’s belt, since Fedyor himself is still fully clothed, but he steps back and gently pushes Ivan’s hands down. “Hold on,” he says. “I did not ask you to sleep with me because that was all I cared about, only getting myself off. We don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle, or – or watch Die Hard 2, or something else. You know that, right? I still want to see you again even if we don’t sleep together right this very instant. I also do want to sleep with you, but if you’re not comfortable – ”

“No, it’s…” Ivan is clearly struggling to articulate a concept that he might not have ever processed consciously. “No, it’s not that. I want you. I want to do this. I want to make it good for you. I promise, I absolutely do not want to watch one of those baffling American movies more than I want to sleep with you. I just don’t understand why you don’t want me to…” He makes a helpless little gesture, encompassing a multitude of sins. “You know.”

“I do, I do want you to.” Fedyor reaches out and takes both of Ivan’s hands in his own, pulling him in so that their hips to brush, their chests touch. Their heads tilt down, their mouths coming close again, both of them shuddering at the jolt of electricity that burns through them, the raw, chemical need to be kissing again, to get back to what they were doing before their pasts so inconveniently intruded. “But I want to take care of you too, and I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.”

Ivan is silent. So silent that Fedyor is afraid that he’s somehow said the wrong thing, and has to finally venture, “Vanya?”

“Ah.” Ivan’s voice is thick – which sounds for a moment, though Fedyor has trouble ever imagining it from this man – as if he might be brusquely choking down tears. “Ah, but Fedya. I thought you said that I was the worst person. Earlier.”

“I did, but that’s not…” Fedyor lays one hand against Ivan’s cheek. “I was joking, okay? Teasing you. Because you like to tease me. I didn’t actually, literally mean it.”

Ivan lifts his head, his eyes raw and vulnerable and luminous in the sliver of city light that pries through Fedyor’s bedroom curtains, and Fedyor can see the fragility beneath the iron, the delicate soul that lies somewhere deep in this tough, scary, grumpy, standoffish man. It breaks his heart in half and puts it back together all at once, and he can’t think how to respond, how to answer, how to do anything but he does, which is to cup Ivan’s head in his hands again and sway back forth. “Vanya,” he breathes, enchanted by the way it sounds on his tongue, a key to a secret world that belongs to them alone. “Oh, Vanya.”

With that, he pulls Ivan close, Ivan doesn’t resist in the slightest, and they kiss so long and so slow and so deep that it feels as if it invents its own sort of time. The world turns one way before that kiss, and after it, it turns another, as Fedyor reaches up, unbuttons his own shirt, and shucks it off. Softly he says, “Vanya, would you like to come to bed with me now?”

“Yes.” It bursts from Ivan as if it’s the only thing he can think of, something that he barely feels worthy of but wants more than life itself. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” Fedyor reaches out, undoes the last clasp of Ivan’s belt, and pulls it off, followed by his jeans. Ivan stands still as a statue, as if he was perfectly willing to undress himself but having someone else do it is almost unfathomable, and a shiver runs through him from head to toe as he stands there in nothing except his briefs. Fedyor looks him luxuriously up and down, then says, “Do you want to take off mine, or should I?”

“Oh, I’m doing that,” Ivan orders, sounding more like his businesslike self, as he steps in and removes Fedyor’s trousers with a method that can only be described as “surgical efficiency.” When they have been disposed of, the two of them walk back to the bed together, and each take charge of stripping off their own underwear. Then they are in nothing but their skins, and the only thing that separates them is air. Fedyor feels that prick of instinctive shyness that you always feel the very first time you’re naked with a new lover, in case there’s some secretly grotesque feature that the others failed to mention and they are actually repulsed. He works out, he eats healthy, he takes care of himself, he can be confident that he looks pretty good. But there are always the weird moles, the wonky toes, the wibbly parts of yourself that you don’t like or don’t want to see in the mirror, and it’s been a long enough dry spell that it’s his turn to feel an unwelcome attack of nerves. He looks down at the floor, barely breathing.

“Fedya.” Ivan’s voice makes him look up. “Fedya, you are…”

He stops, clearly struggling for the words. He reaches out with one broad palm and ghosts it along Fedyor’s arm, then does the same with the other hand, gripping his biceps. “Beautiful,” he says almost disbelievingly, but not as if he’s in any doubt that it applies. Only that he’s in doubt that he gets to say it, that he gets to be standing here and seeing this, that it’s so much more than he has ever dreamed or felt like he deserved. “You are beautiful.”

The low, reverent whisper of his voice, the way he sounds like he has been stabbed through the heart and utterly slain, makes gooseflesh rise in cold ripples along Fedyor’s arms. He’s outwardly confident, he has had no complaints from his past lovers, he is clearly the one who will have to take more of the lead here, but he can’t recall that anyone has ever said that to him in that awestruck tone of voice. He bites his lip, moving closer again as Ivan continues to touch him, lightly and softly and slowly, as if he’s never actually done this with another man while they’re both naked. In fact, Fedyor realizes, it’s almost certain that he hasn’t. Ivan looks startled and intrigued and turned on all at once, getting on his knees and running both hands down Fedyor’s hips, the lean lines of calf and thigh, circling around his ankles and the tender hollow of the bone. Ivan even investigates Fedyor’s toes, which he can’t recall a boyfriend ever doing (except for one weirdo off Grindr with a foot fetish, who was rather swiftly disposed of). Fedyor giggles, a little unsteadily. “Come back up here.”

Ivan runs both hands over the tops of his feet, then slowly makes his way northward again. He still hasn’t ventured anywhere 18+–rated, as if he is taking his time about getting there now that he knows their night together isn’t contingent on him giving Fedyor an orgasm as quickly as possible. He stands up and touches Fedyor’s collarbone and shoulders, his chest and nipples, the muscles of stomach and back. Fedyor used to swim competitively, and they’re still pretty trim, if he says so himself. Ivan draws the rough pads of his fingers over Fedyor’s skin, provoking another round of shivers, until Fedyor is feeling very adored and worshiped indeed but also almost out of his damn mind with lust, and in the mood to progress the activities to those of an explicitly adult nature. “Vanya,” he says breathlessly. “You are very sweet, but I really want to fuck your brains out. Is that okay?”

Ivan looks surprised. Then he laughs. “You want to fuck my – ?”

“As you would put it, that is normally implied when I say that, yes.” Fedyor tries not to shift too impatiently, but he might pass out if there’s any less blood in his head. He makes a demonstrative gesture at himself. “I’m suffering here.”

“Ah,” Ivan murmurs, with the air of a repairman confronting a difficult but fascinating mechanical problem. “Then we have to do something about that, of course.”

With that, he sweeps Fedyor up and carries him bodily to the bed, settling him down on the pillows and clambering onto all fours above him. He makes a move as if to finally go down, then stops. “You said that you had condoms. Do you want one?”

“If you’re just going to…” Fedyor is tryingto focus long enough to produce coherent speech, but it’s an almighty struggle. “You know. I’m clean, I’m not – I don’t – any diseases or anything.” Great, look at them being all adult and responsible and attempting to practice clear communication and safe sex, but he is desperate. “You’re fine to just, uh. Go for it. For the love of God, please go for it.”

Ivan considers for a final moment. Then he braces himself on both hands, slides down, and does at last, and comprehensively, go for it.

Fedyor jerks, clutching fistfuls of the bedclothes and involuntarily arching his back, as Ivan reaches up with one hand and pins his hip flat again. He doesn’t break stride, sucking Fedyor’s cock down deep and then licking a slow stripe up the underside, swirling his tongue elegantly around the tip and working him over until Fedyor is swearing profusely and doing his best not to thrash. Instead, he links his ankles around Ivan’s shoulders, sturdy and strong and moving in time to the bobbing rhythm of his head, digging his heels into the unyielding muscles of Ivan’s back. Ivan doesn’t let up on him until Fedyor is whimpering for mercy, on the very edge of coming, and seeing double. Then Ivan pulls away, his mouth wet and obscene, as he wipes it with his hand. “How are you feeling up there?” he asks, as if he doesn’t good and goddamn know. “Do you want me to finish this?”

“It’s either that,” Fedyor manages to get out, “or I murder you.”

“Tut, tut.” Ivan grins, adopting a mocking scold. “For someone who claims that you like me so much, you do threaten violence quite often, my fierce little Fedya.”

“Do not call me little.”

“Mm, maybe not.” Ivan leans down and kisses very low on Fedyor’s stomach. “This isn’t little, I’d say.”

“Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov, I swear – ”

“Shh.” Ivan pushes Fedyor’s legs to either side, holding them firmly down with each of those notably large and obnoxiously capable hands, and then goes back to finishing his work. It is, by any metric, a resounding success, and Fedyor loses track of empirical reality, his higher faculties, and for a moment there, his own name. When he finally returns to earth, he can only make out the sight of Ivan propped up on one elbow next to him and looking insufferably smug. “I told you that I was good, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Fedyor mutters, still feeling as if his spinal column has been removed. “Yes, you did say that.”

Ivan leans down to kiss him again, his mouth still tasting saltily of Fedyor, and they roll over in the bedclothes and make out for a few moments, as Fedyor hasn’t figured out how he is going to take his revenge but is determined that it will be spectacular. They need a few minutes to recover and stagger to the bathroom to drink some water, then return to the bed and flop down side by side like beached whales, giggling helplessly. Fedyor has had a boyfriend or two, but he still isn’t sure that he has ever experienced anything quite like this, the ebbs and flows, the mess, the daze, the delight, the enjoyment of the interlude just as keen as the activities themselves. Their fingers grope toward each other and clutch hold, as Fedyor lifts Ivan’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. They pant and wheeze in an undignified fashion, with no attempt to look pretty or perfect or like anything except sex-stupefied horndogs in their first post-orgasmic haze, which is what they (or at least Fedyor) absolutely are. But no matter how resoundingly he has gotten a happy ending, he has not forgotten his own plans to inflict one likewise upon Ivan, and he wants to do a very thorough job of it. Especially since Ivan doesn’t necessarily know what he likes, this is going to require a bespoke basket of boutique sexcapades, all of which makes Fedyor sound like a much more experienced lothario than he actually is. Yet as is the case in everything, practice makes perfect.

When both of them are on the road to recovery, Fedyor sits up. “I am going to conduct some important science experiments on you,” he informs the intrigued-looking Ivan. “If I do anything that you don’t like or that does not feel good, you tell me, okay? And I will stop. But you have to tell me. Not just put up with it because you think that it is what I want to do or whatever. What I want to do is to make you happy and to help figure out what you like, and I can’t do that unless you tell me what you really feel. Yes?”

“Yes,” Ivan says slowly, as if he’s trying to contemplate the idea, to wrap his head around it, and then finally manages to do so. “Yes,” he says again, louder. “I trust you, Fedya.”

Fedyor smiles at him, then reaches over, opens his bedside drawer, and pulls out his lube, squeezing it into his hands and working it until they’re warm. Then he sizes up Ivan like a painter deciding where to make his first stroke on the canvas, reaches down, and takes Ivan’s erection gently in his palm, sliding his thumb slowly up to the base of the thick shaft. A dry handjob is no fun for anyone, so Fedyor makes extra-sure that there is enough lube, watching Ivan’s face to be sure that this is going well. “Mmm? How about this?”

“Fedya,” Ivan says, sounding a little breathless. “You are very beautiful and you have my cock in your hand while you look like absolute sin. I do not need a chemistry experiment.”

“Good to know.” Fedyor bites a grin, feeling slightly diabolical himself. He tries a few strokes, slower and then faster, changing the pace and pressure, as Ivan is the one suddenly scrambling for purchase on a swiftly tilting planet. But before he brings him all the way off, Fedyor lets go, re-lubes his hands, and turns Ivan over, stroking along the muscled curve of his ass and circling around his entrance. “This?” he asks. “How does this feel?”

“Fedya – ” Ivan bites another curse. “What do you think?”

“Words, Vanya. Use them.”

Ivan rolls his eyes at the heavens in mute appeal, as if this must be his divine punishment for being such a snarky bastard (and, you know, he’s not wrong). “It feels good,” he grits out. “Do you want me to write a dissertation? With footnotes?”

“No, that’s fine.” Fedyor teases at him, opens him, slides one slick finger into Ivan’s tight and intimate heat, pushing and circling until he can slip in two. Ivan growls, recoiling up onto all fours, as Fedyor climbs up behind him and positions himself more conveniently for continuing his work. He reaches around with his free hand and takes hold of Ivan’s dick again, matching the rhythm of his strokes on the outside to the insistent pressure on the sweet spot inside him. When he finds the right place, Ivan actually yelps, and Fedyor smirks. “That,” he informs the very startled Ivan, “is where the man’s G-spot is located. It is the sensation of pressure on the prostate that feels so good. Did you know that?”

“I did not know I was dating a – ” Ivan breaks off to swear. When he stops swearing, he manages, “A fucking professor of anatomy.”

“Maybe a fucking professor.” Fedyor has to pay attention to what he is doing with both hands rather than witty banter, but he leans forward long enough to catch the shell of Ivan’s ear with his teeth. “Or a professor of fucking. Take your pick.”

“God almighty,” Ivan manages through his teeth, the muscles in his forearms straining as he braces himself on Fedyor’s mattress, and this right now, this should be carved in marble by Michelangelo (also a noted devotee of gay sex, if Fedyor recalls) and kept there forever just like this, perfect. “You are actually going to kill me, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I did promise payback.” Fedyor increases the speed to ruthless levels. “Maybe next time you won’t be such a little shit, huh?”

Ivan is gasping too hard to really put much heat into it, but he still manages to aim a look over his shoulder suggesting that if this is his “punishment,” then Fedyor should probably get ready for maximum little-shitness at all times. Fedyor supposes that it is a bit counterproductive of him to reward bad behavior, but then, he’s already admitted that he is completely gone over Ivan Sakharov either way, even and (inexplicably) especially when he is such a total, godforsaken grump. He can feel in Ivan’s body that he’s close to climax, perhaps the first one that has ever been deliberately and carefully coaxed out of him like this, and feels an indecent, shivering thrill, even beyond the simple physicalities of what they are doing. It’s bewitching, intoxicating, as necessary as blood and as sweet as ambrosia. That Fedyor could be responsible for reducing a man like this to utter, incoherent cursing, the barely bridled strength in Ivan that could tear someone else apart, completely yielded up to his will, trusting him to take this body, this heart, this soul, and do whatever he pleases – to trust that it will not hurt. Fedyor is only beginning to grasp what must lie under all this, but it breaks his heart nonetheless. No, he swears, knowing somehow that even if this is their first night together, it will not be the last. I will never, ever let someone hurt you like that again.

It’s only a few more moments until Ivan is completely, outrageously losing it, as one of Fedyor’s hands turns warm and sticky and the fingers of the other are clenched slick and tight until it seems as if they have briefly been melded into one flesh. Then, as Ivan is still flat on his stomach and gulping whooping breaths as if he has been chased by a train, Fedyor smirks, pulls both hands carefully free of their entanglements, and goes to the bathroom to rinse off. When he returns, Ivan is still in the exact same position as before, and Fedyor climbs onto the bed, unable to resist a little poke. “Are you alive?”

“No,” Ivan says, voice muffled. “Ask again later.”

“Good.” Fedyor slides down next to him, throwing his arm over Ivan’s sweaty, trembling back. “So, it is fair to say that you liked that?”

“I think it is fair to say so, yes.” Ivan’s voice is extremely dry, but he shifts and rolls over to face Fedyor, their noses brushing in the dark, their heads very close on the pillow. “I shudder to imagine what you are going to do to me next, you demon.”

“Oh,” Fedyor says in a voice low with promise, reaching for the quilts and pulling them up around their waists, their naked, entangled bodies. He can definitely feel the sheer sweet satisfied sleep of sexual satiation pulling at him, but he pushes it off. He doesn’t want to do that, not quite yet. He wants to lie here in the dark with Ivan in his arms and savor every instant of what has just happened, play it back in his head, be sure that he doesn’t ever forget, not as they both should live. “Just you wait. I have plenty of ideas.”

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