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blondiebarnes · 4 years

Text

in the middle

summary: steve and bucky just got home from a tough mission, and you’re determined to make them feel good.

pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut! threesome, male & female receiving oral, established relationship, cumplay, basically just porn

word count: 6.5k

For the most part, you’ve gotten used to being by yourself when Steve and Bucky are on missions.

You don’t like it - not in the slightest - it goes without saying that you’d love nothing more than to go on missions with them when they’re called in the dead of night but it hardly, if ever, works out that way. They’re nearly always sent together (Fury says they balance each other out, and you’re not exactly sure you know why or how but you’ve learned to accept whatever your director says at face value) and you’re generally excluded from their missions. They get too protective, can ignore the objectives of a mission when you’re in danger, and it’s a sweet sentiment but you know it’s an issue, even if you appreciate it.

And you are used to it. Really, you are. It’s been a year of having them called off in the middle of the night, leaving you sleeping in bed with a lingering kiss to your forehead as you dip out the door - occasionally they’ll wake you up (usually Bucky, because he tends to be a bit more sentimental, though he’d never dare to admit it) and give you a proper kiss, but for the most part you simply wake up in a too-large bed that’s void of the two super soldiers sandwiching you between their warm bodies, and it never fails to feel any more jarring.

That’s what happened Friday. You simply woke up on a day like any other and they were gone, leaving nothing but ruffled covers and a small sticky note pressed to your cell phone in Steve’s scribbled handwriting, telling you that it shouldn’t last more than the weekend and we love you so much and a small smiley face that looks to be more of Bucky’s doing, but you can’t be sure.

It had been a long weekend.

Movies and books and making dinner, and work had been so slow recently with no new missions on the come-up that you need to be called away on, so you’ve been primarily holed up in your apartment watching the time tick by and waiting for your boys to come home. You’d even called Nick at one point, in your boredom, to inquire about how their mission was going, and he told you (paraphrased, of course) that they were doing just fuckin’ great and should be home by Monday, and Monday couldn’t have fucking come any slower.

You’ve been lying awake for nearly three hours since you settled into bed on Sunday night, covers pulled tight against your chin to protect yourself from the January cold that nips at your skin, even after you’ve set the thermostat to 71 degrees. Steve likes it cold - Bucky warm - you laugh at the irony of it, much to the latter’s chagrin - and you prefer it being right in the middle.

The TV plays on mute a rerun of some old movie you’ve never heard of, black and white film running rickety slow and glitching, though you’ve long since given up paying attention to it. You’d been on Pinterest for an hour before getting bored and plugging your phone in on your nightstand, and you’d begun flipping through one of Steve’s favorite books he loves to read to you sometimes, and now - you simply gaze at the ceiling in your boredom, fingers interlocked on top of your stomach, boredom settling in every crevice of your body.

You’re not sure what, exactly, you’re waiting awake for. Not even sure if you’re waiting or simply unable to sleep - it feels like a 50/50 situation, at least at the moment - but there’s still something inherently wrong with sleeping in bed without your boys. Curling into Bucky’s chest while Steve is pressed to his back, the latter’s hand wrapped around to rest on your lip while a metal hand slides up your shirt, cupping your breast just to hear the way you squeal at the chill - or, alternatively, sandwiching yourself between them as Steve practically throws his mass on top of you and Bucky squishes your face into his hard back.

Empty. You feel empty, in more ways than one, and that’s what’s keeping you awake, you decide after a long fifteen minutes of contemplating on it. Your boys complete you. It’s not right without them -

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear the front door knob jiggling from across the apartment, and you jerk upright as though someone had doused you with freezing cold water (not that it would be much of an adjustment from the temperature your apartment feels, but the implication still stands.)

If you were smarter - or perhaps less groggy - maybe you’d dig through your nightstand for the gun you keep in case of any intruders, buried beneath notebooks and stray pieces of paper decorated with small smudged sketches that Steve puts on any smooth surface he can find. It’s loaded and ready to go - all you’d need to do is dig through and grab it, creep outside the bedroom door and take down whomever may be invading your home -

Just as you roll onto your side to dig through your drawer and find the weapon, the front door fully opens with a jingle of keys and the scuffling sounds of footsteps, and you pause, listening to the voices that roll through the apartment, hushed and breathy.

“Fuckin’ - tripped over my foot,” comes a familiar voice, louder than the one who follows right after him, murmuring for him to shut the hell up - are you trying to wake up the entire city? -

You’re out of bed faster than you can even process, covers mercilessly kicked to the very bottom of the bed in your haste. The hardwood is cold against your bare feet and the air bites at your skin, wearing nothing but one of Steve’s old t-shirts that falls to your mid thighs and a pair of lace panties that peeks out of the shirt when you bend over or reach up or do anything, really - it’s a bit of a scandalous look - but you pay no mind to it, opening the door and tearing down the hallway into the foyer.

You’ve smacked into a hard, thick body before you could stop yourself, arms thrown around Steve’s torso as you bury your face into his chest, and you can practically feel his deep laugh before you hear it but you do hear it, clear as day, and it brings a grin to your face that’s only deepened when Bucky tugs at your waist, pulling you into his back, arms wrapped around your stomach as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“Fury said you guys wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” you tell them, letting your body relax into Bucky’s embrace as Steve traces his fingers across your jawline, tilting your head up so he can press one light kiss to your puckered lips. His arms snake around your waist, sandwiched between your back and Bucky’s chest, fingertips clutching tight onto the loose fabric of the shirt you’re donning and he uses it as leverage to hold you closer to him.

“It was an easy one,” Steve replies, leaning forward just a bit until you’re fully pressed between the two soldiers, your head squished into his chest as he inhales the scent of your shampoo, nose buried into the top of your head. “Can’t believe you called Fury about it - missed us that much, hmm?”

A dry chuckle jostles the body behind you, feeling Bucky’s warm laughter against your neck, and you bite on your bottom lip as you nod. “‘Course I missed you - don’t get cocky -” for you’d just caught sight of Steve’s smug grin, toying his lips upward, and you use the top of your head to push him away from you in mock disgust, leaning further into Bucky’s grasp. He hums softly, breath ruffling your hair, messy from your failed attempts to sleep. “S’so lonely here.”

“Aww,” murmurs Bucky, lips pressing warm kisses into the exposed expanse of your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him easier access as Steve crosses his arms over his chest, watching the pair of you at work. “Poor baby.”

“Hey -” you reach behind you, running your hands through long, brunette locks just to feel the way Bucky smiles against your skin. “At least you two have each other on missions, getting each other off - I’m here all by myself. Nothin’ but the fingers.” “There’s a lot less time to get your rocks off in the middle of a mission than you’d think.”

“Is there?” you inquire playfully as Bucky’s lips trail further up your neck, landing on a spot just beneath your jawline and suckling the soft skin - the teasing lilt in your voice that you’d intended to sound confident and self-assured gets breathier and just a tad more pathetic as you continue, “Sam and I always seem to have enough time -”

Bucky grunts against your cheek, murmuring something you can’t quite make out about how he hates that fuckin’ bird boy, and a grin spreads across your face that mirrors Steve’s as he watches you. Bucky tilts your head to the side with two fingers pressed to your chin so he can ghost his lips over yours but you deepen it, pushing your face further into his as you wrap one of your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair to hear him groan into your mouth and you swallow the noise. You can practically sense Steve rolling his eyes both at your teasing and the way Bucky’s absolutely devouring you, the metal hand around your waist trailing up your torso and leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reaches your chest, cold fingers plucking at your nipple, and your chest arches into his hand with a broken gasp into his mouth.

“Better tell Sam not to touch what isn’t his,” Steve tells you, and you nod, watching the blonde take a few steps forward and for a moment you wonder if he’ll lean down, take your lips from Bucky’s and kiss you until you’re practically putty in his hands but instead he pushes past the both of you, disappearing down the hallway behind you, and you crane your neck backwards to watch his back as he vanishes around a corner.

For a moment you wonder if Bucky hadn’t seen him leave, continuing his ministrations on your nipples as his teeth bite at your bottom lip as though there’d been no interruption, his mouth turning up into a smug smirk at the way you whimper into his mouth. God, you’ve missed his touch, clever hands knowing exactly how to make you fall apart for him even without slipping into the lace of your panties, and your mouth opens in a silent gasp as his flesh palm presses to the skin of your stomach.

“Wanna go see Stevie?” the soldier questions into your mouth, voice low and sultry smooth, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Tough mission for him.”

You frown at that as Bucky pulls away from you, leaving one lingering kiss to the side of your throat as he pulls your shirt down over your lower half. “Thought he said it was easy.”

“It was,” and that makes your brows furrow as his metal hand wraps around your wrist, beginning to pull you down the hallway where your bedroom door is swung wide open. “But Fury ripped him a new one, ‘cause he disobeyed his orders - got the mission done fine - but you know how Stevie hates having his authority questioned.”

Your lips part in a silent o, and Bucky smirks ever so slightly before leading you into the bedroom where Steve sits at the edge of the bed, peeling off his suit and kicking it off of his ankles. Bucky shuts the door behind you, immediately working at tugging his vest over his head and you leave him to it, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor until you reach Steve, and you merely stand before him until he’s finished taking his clothes off, leaving him clad in only a pair of boxers.

“Do you need something?” Steve questions, glancing up at you with an amused glint in his eyes and you groan, lifting your leg up to straddle his lap, calves on either side of his, and his hands go to rest on the underside of your thigh like an instinct. For a moment you don’t say anything, grinding your hips down into his until his hands slide up your back, tugging your shirt up over your torso so he can press his cold palms to the globes of your ass, halting you in place. “Words, baby.”

“Want you to boss me around,” you tell him, dropping your lips to the side of his throat, and his dry exhale of a laugh blows at your hair as his fingers slip beneath the scrap of lace between your ass, fully digging into the plump skin, and you smile against his neck. “Missed you bein’ bossy.”

“Really?” You nod, feeling the bed dip beside you until there’s another set of hands on your body, tugging the hem of your shirt up until you’re forced to remove your lips from Steve’s neck so Bucky can pull your shirt off, littering it onto the ground beside you. Steve leans his head back as both you and Bucky lean forward, your lips to his throat and the other soldier taking his lips so that the next words he speaks are muffled into the kiss, “Sure Bucky didn’t put you up to this, baby?”

“Who’s Bucky?”

That makes both of them laugh into each other and you smile, leaning back in his lap as you take in the sight of them - lips crashed together, metal hand burying itself in blonde locks that he hasn’t cut in a while, hair brushing the tips of his ears, and Steve’s hand that had been on your ass drops, seemingly forgotten about his job - you huff, wrap your hand around his wrist, and lift his palm up to rest against your left breast.

Instinctively he squeezes, and the two men pull apart from each other as Bucky leans forward to kiss the top of your head, flesh hand sliding down your stomach until he can push into the damp lace fabric of your panties, and you jolt against his hand as he brushes your clit. “Can’t possibly think we forgot about you,” he tells you, and you shrug, watching the way he smiles. “Come on, Stevie, you heard her - wants you to boss her around.”

And Steve is surely still doubtful of your intentions - it isn’t as though you’ve ever asked him to boss you around before - it typically just happens when he’s pissed or upset or happy -

It happens a lot. He’s a bossy guy, both in the field and out of it, and he’s more than happy to give demands and orders and he loves to see you follow them.

Bucky is - usually along for the ride. He’s the calming voice in your ear when Steve is edging you until you’re screaming, the gentle touch when you’ve been overstimulated for an hour, the smooth, sultry kiss when you’re being filled so deep from both ends you feel entirely numb - and he can be mean, too, metal hand tightening around your throat and smirking at the way you sob -

Well, it depends.

“Get on the bed,” Steve tells you, and regardless of whether he’s suspicious of you and Bucky his voice is already hardening and if the words weren’t implicitly sexual, perhaps you could fool yourself into thinking you’re on the field - you listen, though. You always do - swing your legs off of his lap and land on your back on the bed, watching as Steve stands and Bucky merely turns around, leaning back on his arms as he watches you, your leg hiked up to give a limited, tantalizing view to the lace covered pex of your thighs.

“Buck - wanna get behind our girl?”

The phrase our girl never fails to make your stomach flutter, and the feeling only intensifies as Bucky grunts in affirmation, crawling towards you, and with hands hooked under your armpits he lifts you to sit, your back pressed to his chest. Hands reach up to your chest, cupping your tits in flesh and metal palms that have a chill rolling through your spine, hips grinding back against the erection you can feel pressed into your back.

“Spread your legs,” Steve tells you, and you oblige, feet sliding across the bed to spread yourself as wide open as you can, and Bucky’s metal hand leaves your chest to grab onto one of your thighs, forcing it open wide enough that a burn spreads through your muscle. “Yeah - don’t fuckin’ move, baby - hold her down, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice, moving his other hand so he’s holding both of your thighs, and you can feel wetness dripping down your cunt onto the sheets as Steve stands still, for a moment, just watching the pair of you - your chest heaves and you can feel Bucky’s fingers twitch against your thighs, surely desperate to caress your tits just the way he always likes to, but he wouldn’t dare disobey Steve when he’s like this. You know it, and he knows it, and you’re sure Steve knows it too - he looks so smug, even as he climbs onto the bed, resting on his stomach as he presses his cheek into your thigh, warm breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers hook into the soaked material of your panties, feeling the stickiness that coats your folds and the undergarment, and with not a second of hesitation he rips them in half, tugging them off your leg and tossing the ruined scrap of lace onto the ground.

Your instinct is to reach down and run your fingers through his hair as he lowers his mouth to your pussy, tongue flicking once over your clit, but the second your hands jerk in their spot resting overtop of Bucky’s, Steve is reaching up - one hand manages to wrap around both of your wrists, holding your hands in place on top of your stomach with a grip so tight it’ll surely leave bruises that will darken in the morning.

You groan softly as Steve lifts his head, gaze hard and unforgiving as he stares at you, and then his gaze moves behind you where you know he must be having some sort of silent conversation with Bucky - they’re so good at that - before he’s leaning back down, teeth gnashing at your clit with enough force to make you jolt.

“Think Stevie said not to fuckin’ move, sweetie,” Bucky murmurs, lips sucking a dark hickey just beneath your ear, and a low whine escapes your throat as Steve’s tongue laps up your sticky folds before centering on your clit. “Didn’t you, honey?” And Steve hums in affirmation, pulling back to spit harshly at your clit, and you exhale skaily as you feel the glob of coldness trickle down your folds. “Move again, and I’ll punish you,” he tells you, which is more generous than he typically is when he’s in this state but you suppose the excitement of arriving home after a shitty, weekend mission must not have worn out yet. “Be a good girl for us, baby.”

You nod furiously, Bucky’s forearms hooking beneath your knees until the ache in your thighs nearly tips the balance of pain and pleasure but it’s still leaning towards the latter - more so as Steve dips his head back down, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub at your core that tears a moan from your throat, and you bite at your lips to try and silence the noises.

“Never told you to be quiet,” Steve mumbles against your cunt, vibrations from his voice sending a shiver up your spine, and Bucky smiles against one of the many hickies he’s leaving on your neck - you’re sure you’ll look a damn sight tomorrow, made of practically entirely concealer to hide the marks he’s obsessed with, but you don’t have it in you to stop. “Let us hear your noises - how good we’re making you feel.”

You drop your head back into Bucky’s shoulder with a desperate cry as Steve’s flexed tongue circles your clit before running back down your slit, parting your folds until he can slip his tongue inside of your hole, thrusting it in and out a few times, lips turning upwards at your resulting whine. Bucky’s nails leave deep, crescent-shaped indentations in the smooth skin of your inner thigh, and you can feel his erection pressed thick and swollen against your back. Surely he’s just as wound up as you are - and as much as Steve is, his hips rutting against the edge of the bed as though of their own accord - but he doesn’t do much of anything at all to alleviate the pressure, breathy exhales in your ear as your hips rub against his bulge.

“Wanna hold her open for me, Buck?” Steve questions, pulling back just a mere inch from your swollen clit before dipping his head back down, tongue licking a fat stripe through your folds before lust-blown blue orbs lift up to meet the ones behind you - you can feel Bucky’s hair, brushing against your cheek as he nods once, and your brows furrow in confusion. Surely he’s already holding you open, hands forcing your thighs so far apart that you can feel the burn in every inch of your body - and then he drops one of your thighs against the bed, metal hand trailing down to your cunt, and his fingers dip through your folds, spreading them apart and exposing your swollen clit further to the blonde between your legs. Steve adjusts himself, moving towards the side so he can press his face into your pussy without hitting Bucky’s fingers, and his tongue circles your clit once more.

You moan at the sight, nearly going cross eyed as you stare down at Steve. It’s so erotic, watching everything in your most sacred of areas, Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s face buried so intensely into your cunt you’re sure he can’t possibly breathe - he moans against your folds every so often, as though the act of giving you pleasure makes him feel just as good, and you don’t doubt it for a moment.

“Steve -” you gasp, back arching up, and Steve uses his hand around your wrist to force you back down onto the bed wordlessly - you drop pathetically back onto the duvet, a tear sliding down your cheek, and you can hear Bucky tut behind you, cold fingers slipping on the moisture coating your folds. “Steve - fuck -”

“Gonna cum, baby?” “Yes,” you breathe, hips bucking backwards into Bucky’s erection and he lets out a choked gasp into your ear, head falling back against the headboard with a loud thud that rings through the room. “Yes, need to - please -”

Steve pulls away, then - you cry out at the loss of warmth between your legs - and his nose nudges Bucky’s fingers, prompting the soldier behind you to take the cue to dip his metal digits into your cunt, the cold thickness stretching you out until you’re preening at the sensation. “Think she’s been a good girl? Think she should cum, Buck?”

You want to scream at the pause between the question and Bucky’s answer - he hums for a moment, as though in deep thought, fingers buried down to the knuckle inside of you and body practically leaning over yours so his metal arm can reach, brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision go fuzzy. He takes too fucking long, Steve’s grasp on your wrist pressed to your tummy the only thing keeping your hips from bucking up to force pressure into your cunt, before he finally says, “You’ve been good for us, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” you practically squeal as his fingers pull out hardly an inch before pumping back in, curling upwards again to hit your G-spot. “Yes, please, been so good, Bucky -”

“Cum for us, sweetie -”

You hardly wait for him to finish his sentence when Steve lowers his lips to your clit, wrapping around the bud and sucking until his cheeks hollow out, and your hips jerk desperately into his face as the waves of euphoria rack through your body, tearing a desperate sob from your throat as Bucky thrusts his fingers in and out of you, nearly hitting the side of Steve’s face in his haste to get you off, and he’s doing a damn good job at it - your hips jut into his back as you cum into their mouth and fingers, stuttering groans leaving your mouth one after another.

Steve’s mouth never leaves your clit - not even when your hips thrash against his mouth and you tear your hands free of his grasp to dig into his hair, attempting to stop his ministrations on your clit but he refuses - your folds drip wetness into his waiting mouth and he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, Bucky’s fingers lazily thrusting in and out of you as his chest rises and falls against your back, dropping your other thigh to hook an arm around your torso and hold you close to him.

Hold her down, Steve had told him, and he seems more than content to oblige with the order, whispering loving nothings in your ear that you can’t bring yourself to understand, words coming through as nothing more than incoherent babble to your brain muddled with the pressure to cum already building in your core again -

“Oh,” you whimper, heels digging into the mattress as Steve’s tongue laps over your folds and Bucky’s finger before settling on your clit again, flicking the nub over and over until you feel yourself fucking burst - “oh, fuck!”

It’s entirely more intense than the first one, Steve’s teeth nibbling at your clit as you topple over the edge like a row of dominoes - fire shoots through every limb, every crevice of your body until you’re shaking, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes and trickling down to your jawline. Your thighs tense, a high pitched cry piercing the air of the room as the aftershocks overtake your body, leaving you trembling into Bucky’s grasp as Steve pulls off your clit with a pop.

“That’s good,” Bucky whispers into your ear, pulling his metal fingers out of you once the shaking rolling through your body has come to a relative halt - through your blurred vision you can see Steve take the digits in his mouth, licking them clean eyes rolling up to meet Bucky’s, and he groans softly. “Good girl.”

Steve leaves one last kiss to your swollen clit before moving up your body, and you’re quick to lean forward, wrapping a quivering arm around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss - it’s rough and biting, teeth clashing together and his tongue swiping into your mouth without a moment for you to catch your breath, and when he pulls away his breathing is noticeably heavier than before.

“Yeah, you’re good for us,” he tells you, bringing a hand up to stroke at the soft skin of your cheek before pulling it back and smacking it back down - it’s not hard, not by a long shot, but it’s enough to draw another whimper from your throat at the soft sting. “On your knees.”

Your legs feel shaky but you manage to push yourself to your knees, resting your arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold yourself up as Bucky shuffles behind you, slotting his hips against your ass so you can feel his bulge through his boxers - he grinds himself into your ass, sliding his arms around your waist just as Steve tugs his own boxers down, fist lazily pumping his cock as you watch him.

“You know what?” the blonde murmurs after a moment of you watching him, your cunt throbbing in need. “Think I’m gonna take your throat.”

You whine at that as Steve pulls away abruptly, leaving you nearly collapse onto your stomach but Bucky’s arm around your stomach mercifully holds you up, practically manhandling you as he turns you around, shoving you onto your back with your head nearly dangling off the bed as he crawls up your body, leaving lingering kisses on the smooth expanses of skin exposed to him. Large hands force your thighs open, pushing his hips in between your legs, and you whimper as his cock rubs against your overstimulated clit, even through the fabric of his boxers -

Steve stands beside the bed, smoothing his fingers through your matted hair as you come face to face with his cock, throbbing red and leaking precum down the sides, and your mouth practically waters at the sight - then Bucky’s pulling his own boxers down, swollen tip of his dick sliding through your sodden folds wettened from the aftermath of two orgasms. You push your thighs farther apart, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for Steve and he grins down at you, the expression looking less joyful and more downright smug and don’t you love seeing him like this? All dominant and intense, like he could control you if he pleased, and he does please -

His cock shoves forward into your throat at the same moment Bucky sheathes himself inside of your cunt fully, and a choked cry forces its way out of your mouth, reverberating through Steve’s body until he lets out a strangled grunt. Your nose brushes against the trimmed hair at his pelvis, hollowing your throat to take him in the best you can, and his grip on your hair tightens as leverage to hold you onto him.

“Oh - oh, shit,” Bucky gasps, the noise stuttered and breathy, and the hands on your thigh move up to squeeze your waist, grasp tough and bruising against your skin. “Fuck, fuck -”

You gag around Steve as he finally pulls out of your mouth, leaving just the tip on your tongue, and you swirl it around him - he drops his head back with a groan and when he speaks, his words are shallow, controlled - “Feels good, Buck?”

“So good, Stevie -” Bucky thrusts himself out of you before pushing back in, cunt stretching around his girth and your eyes roll back at the coil of pleasure already building in your lower stomach as his pace picks up, hips working faster and faster until the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers your desperate mixture of moans and cries -

Nearly. Not completely.

Steve tugs at your hair and you remember your job to suck him off and you let him push your head forward, lips wrapping around his girth and tongue flattening to lap at the thick vein on the underside - his resulting groan is immediate, is desperate, and your urge to smile is only thwarted by Bucky’s metal hand pressing to your clit as his hips slam against yours.

Your hips jerk against his, pressure on the most sensitive point of your body making your eyes roll back once more as Steve’s cock slides in and out of your throat, both hands buried tight in your hair until there’s nothing else you can do than just take both of them - you bring your hands from their spot clutching the duvet to your tits, shaking fingertips kneading at your peaked nipples, and you’re not sure if the needy whine that emits from Bucky’s throat is due to his cock slamming into your pussy or from the sight of you toying with your boobs, but either one is reasonable, you decide.

It takes hardly a moment to work the three of you into a rhythm, but when you get it, it’s perfect - Bucky thrusts into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel him in every crevice of your body, and once he pulls out Steve pushes himself into your mouth, tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat just to hear you gag around him. Every once in a while, though, there’s a stutter in the pattern, and both men pull out to ram into your cunt and mouth at the same time, and the three of you cry out in unison.

Bucky’s flesh hand moves to your thigh, pushing it up so far that your knee nearly touches your chest and the burn only heightens the pleasure he’s giving you as he hits the sweet spot buried deep in your cunt over and over like he’s memorized exactly where it is - and surely he has - they know your body better than you do, sometimes - know just how to make you scream. Metal fingers tweak at your clit and your hips grind up into his, pushing him deeper and deeper into you, and you moan around Steve’s dick.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bucky groans, hips slowing deliberately in pace but it’s still fast enough to make your head spin - Steve moves one hand to your face, grabbing your chin and holding you in place with his cock still halfway down your throat. “Fuck - want me to fill you up, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Tell me,” he insists, and your eyes squeeze shut as you exhale through your nose. “Want me to fill you up?”

Steve pulls out until only the tip of his length rests in your mouth, and you swallow thickly before saying, words a desperate sob, “Please - please cum in me, Bucky, baby, please - fill me up -”

“Good girl,” the brunette between your thigh grunts, squeezing your clit harshly and your back arches, Steve slipping his cock all the way back in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and you gag around him as he moans. “Good - fuckin’ - girl -”

With a few more harsh thrusts into your pussy Bucky’s hips halt, pressed taut to yours, filling you to the brim, and his head drops backwards, lips parting with a drawn out, silent scream before he fully cries out, and you feel his ribbons of cum in your cunt - the warmth filling you up is enough to snap the coil building in your abdomen and you sob around Steve as you cum onto Bucky, core clenching around him like a vise as he holds you to him.

“Yes, yes -” Bucky’s voice sounds far away as your muscles go lax, collapsing like putty onto the bed with the grasps on your head and your hips the only thing grounding you to Earth - “yes, takin’ me so fuckin’ good -”

It’s then that Steve gives one last thrust, deep in your throat, and his grip on your chin forces you to look up at him, meeting his stern eyes and he’s so close you can see it reflected in his orbs - they’re dark, pupils wide, and you whimper. “Don’t swallow,” he whispers, tone sounding similar to that of a hiss, and you nod. “Don’t swallow a single drop.”

Your head bobs up and down as Steve’s hand pumps up and down the base of his cock, his cry strangled and needy when he finally releases into your mouth - he cums in spurts onto your tongue and you keep it stuck out for him, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to swallow everything he’s given you but he looks so proud of you when he’s finished and every drop still rests on your tongue and you prefer that look of admiration over the taste, really.

“Kiss her, Buck -”

And Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice, both hands moving to your neck and pulling you up so vigorously your head is spinning when he crashes his lips to yours. His tongue slips into your mouth and you part your lips for him, cum dribbling out of the sides of your mouth and he laps it up like a dying man, palms pressed to your tits. You can see the bob of his throat when he swallows everything you’ve forced into his mouth and you swallow the rest, parting your lips from him with a gasp, practically heaving for air in the bedroom that suddenly feels humid, smelling of sex and cum and desire and remarkably like your two boys themselves.

Steve collapses onto the bed first. He grabs for Bucky, tugging him into his chest and you sit on your knees for a moment, simply watching them - they fall into tandem with each other like they were made for it, and maybe they were, Steve’s face nuzzling into Bucky’s back and you’re never surprised by the sudden vulnerability of your captain immediately after sex. The first time you’d joined them you’d suspected he was embarrassed but you don’t think he is

He’s in love.

It’s a sweet thought.

Bucky wraps his metal hand around your wrist and pulls you down to him, his chin resting on top of your head as you press your cheek to his sweaty chest, feeling his arm wrap around your back. He’s silent, using his foot to kick the comforter up from where it’s been shoved to the bottom of the bed, and when it’s far enough up Steve reaches down to pull it over the three of you, drowning you in its warmth even though you’re not feeling quite cold anymore.

“I don’t know,” you say, after a moment of silence, voice muffled against Bucky’s chest. “It feels like I’m the only one getting ganged up on, nowadays.”

They laugh at that, Bucky’s flesh palm smoothing up and down your back. “You asked for it,” Steve tells you, and you shrug.

“Still.” You move to rest your chin on Bucky’s chest, and he nearly goes cross eyed to meet your eyes as he looks down at you. “Maybe, one of these days, we could tie Stevie up. Have our way with him.”

“He’d love that,” Bucky muses, and you can practically hear Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah - right after a mission, when he’s all wound up -”

“Hey,” Steve warns, and you smile.

“I don’t think there are restraints strong enough for those muscles, anyway,” you murmur, and Bucky smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You fall into silence again, and after a couple of minutes you hear Steve’s soft snoring, followed by Bucky’s, until you’re the last awake between the three of you. They’re rightfully exhausted, surely getting little to no sleep over the weekend - you like hearing how peaceful they sound when they’re resting, even after fucking you so silly you were practically crying.

You smile as you bury your face into Bucky’s chest. Shit, maybe Fury was right - maybe they do balance each other out, a bit.

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

Deep into the Wilderness

Words: 4.7k (this was supposed to be short but, alas, i am an asshole)

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen :0, dubious consent (see: sex pollen), a bit of size kink ö, multiple orgasms :O, light descriptions of blood, magic nature if you’re in the mood, incredible coincidences if you’re not

a/n: i genuinely thought this would be a lil drabble :/, also fuck snakes all my homies hate snakes

There’s something wrong about the stars.

Nights in the Tatooine desert are usually dim and still, as stoic as the Mandalorian who’s been journeying across the endless dune sea with you in your little caravan of two. These past few days, you’ve noticed that the jagged difference between coarse sand and smooth beskar are no obstacle for his ability to blend perfectly into his surroundings. For days, you’ve seen the bounty hunter cruise the barren wilderness like he was born in it, climbing the mounds of sand leisurely and offering his hand when the treacherous ground gives in under your feet and you tumble forward. Ever the gentleman. Silent and observant, he tends to adapt to the elements around him and mimic their energy, until he becomes part of the landscape. Tonight is no different.

The normally scattered and shy desert stars have all gathered in a cluster right above your modest campsite, blinking down at you white and yellow and red against an electric blue sky, bright enough to spare the need of a fire. You feel watched. The stars’ ghoulish eyes above trail your every movement. Waiting to witness something.

Yes, a meek voice inside lies for you, it must be the stars, as you purposefully try to ignore the crushing weight of the Mandalorian’s trained gaze on you, much heavier than the strong beskared arm resting on your upright knee. The tube of bacta ointment moves awkwardly under your fingers and, Maker, you know it won’t be enough. The small holes on the wool covering his arm reveal two angry red pupils gushing blood where the snake’s fangs pierced him; pupils that stare amused at the medical salve that they know and you know and Mando knows will do little neutralize the unknown toxin. You sit so close to him you can hear the hitch of his breath when you pinch the tube and white balm oozes onto your finger.

“I—Mando, I-I think we should get help.” It doesn’t help your nerves that the man to your left hasn’t stopped staring at you since the ruby red viper appeared from under the sand like a conjuring, going straight for the Mandalorian’s arm and slithering back inside its hiding place beneath the dunes before either of you could react. It was unnatural; desert creatures tend to linger in the shadows and never attack unless provoked. Then again, everything about this particular evening—including the bounty hunter—seems to be slightly off, like when something in a familiar place is moved, but you can’t figure out exactly what.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” the voice under the modulator scratches at a lower register than usual, gruffier in a way that would excite you and warm your belly if you weren’t so worried about the liquid currently poisoning his bloodstream. It must be the pain. “Two days by foot to the nearest town. Just use the bacta.”

You gulp and nod as firmly as you can manage, trying to quiet the whisper saying that bacta won’t cut it this time as you get your finger closer to his arm. It’s strange that he asked for your help—the bite is right on the pulse point of his inner elbow, where he could easily do it himself. Maker, just focus. He must have had a good reason to ask you. Plus, you’re not about to miss the promise of even the slightest physical contact with the Mandalorian, even if the situation is not exactly as you’ve fantasized all these months.

Your finger presses lightly into one of the gaps, and with a bit more force when you hear a raggedy exhale leave him. The opening the snake left behind is too small for your finger, and most of the bacta gathers around its edges, while barely any gets to the wound.

“I, um…I need to cut it—t-the fabric,” you stutter and, stars, you sound like an idiot, getting nervous over applying balm when you’ve seen him cauterize his own injuries with a steady hand, much to your horror. You can feel the way his eyes feed from your words as they study you carefully, somehow strengthening the gravity pining you to the ground. A strange static crinkles in the air between you, so real you almost hear it, and for a moment you feel the weight of his stare move past your face, lower down your body. By the time he finally nods and signals towards the open medical kit with a tilt of his helmet, you’re warm all over.

Stretching your torso just the right amount so that his arm doesn’t slip from your knee, you reach straight for the scissors in front of you. Your fingers pinch the fabric to lift it while your other hand works the clippers, cutting with tiny snip-snip-snips that do little to fill the tense silence between you. Why it’s even tense to begin with is beyond you. Sure, Mando got bitten by some unknown creature that could potentially be lethal, but the invisible rope getting stretched from both ends more and more between your bodies has little to do with the mishap. Stars, it feels like it’s pulling you closer and pushing you apart at the same time, and the arm on your knee suddenly feels like it’s burning through your pants. What would happen, you muse as you crank your wrist, if the rope gave in?

The scissors close their circuit, and you lift a small circle of cloth, leaving the clippers aside. It’s a little bigger than it needed to be, but the Mandalorian doesn’t complain when you properly apply bacta on the lesion, sitting like a statue with the visor shining dark blue at your face. The stars reflect distorted on his helmet with judging eyes, like they can hear your thoughts. Like they just know how being so close to the man you think about to warm cold nights is making your heart pump more blood that you need. To places that definitely don’t need it.

You raise your other hand and rest it on his bicep. It’s only to pull the sleeve a little higher. To give you more room to work. And it’s only with that touch that he flinches.

You immediately lift both hands. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry, does…does it hurt—?”

“—No.” Mando moves his good arm and grabs your hand roughly, bringing it to rest on his bicep once again. He clears his throat, unable to wash away the grainy strain on his voice. “No, it—it’s fine.” His large palm stays over yours for a moment, before pulling away slowly. Reluctantly.

You nod and continue your ministrations, massaging a little more bacta than necessary on the bite. Maker, you never want to stop touching him. The patch of olive skin burns hotter than the planet’s twin suns under your touch, and you feel under your other hand how every shift of your finger makes his bicep jump in response.

His flesh absorbs the ointment fast, and you’ve now covered even the surrounding area around the bite, so you lift your finger, a bit disappointed that your little moment of intimacy is over. Until you feel him tug at his end of the rope.

“Cut more,” he breathes, and you freeze before you can lift the hand off his arm, staring right at the visor with eyes round as moons.

“Cut—cut more? More cloth? Wh—”

“The venom will travel up my veins.” Mando’s voice is a little steadier, but it still doesn’t mask a strange tint of something that doesn’t sound quite like pain. “You need to check how far up it goes. If…if it goes into my chest…”

He doesn’t need to finish. You shuffle to your knees—a little clumsily because of the sand beneath—and let his arm fall to his side as you squeeze his strong bicep a little tighter. For support.

“Tell me when to stop.” The blades cut away at the fabric, revealing a vertical line of lovely skin with each snip. They go higher and higher, higher and higher, and it’s you who decides to stop when they almost reach his armpit. You rest the scissors next to your legs. The slit uncovers the upper half of his arm’s underside, and you can’t help it when one hand moves to rest on the pauldron and the other slips under the crevice to caress his skin.

Mando’s chest puffs with more air and moves quicker, and—fuck—he looks so broad like this. Sitting and injured, he still towers over you with the beskar and the mass of muscle beaten into him through years of fighting.

He could crush me. The idea pools hot in your core.

“What, uh, what am I looking for?” Your own voice is thick. It’s wrong, but you’re honest enough to admit it’s arousal.

“T-the veins.” You hear him gulp and imagine the apple on his throat bobbing up and down. “Feel around. Che—check if they’re protruding.” You comply, dragging your fingers up and down his burning, strong arm, getting caught up in how he tenses under your touch. He’s pulsing, sure enough, beating like a drum under your hand—you even manage to raise goosebumps when you give a test squeeze—but you can’t feel any veins.

“No.” The hunter exhales with relief and nods once, but his arm doesn’t follow, as it remains taut as wood. You don’t remove your hand. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into you.

An soft breeze raises a small cloud of sand and cools your face, whistling past you while it orders you to do it. “If it’s not pain,” you murmur, deciding it’s your turn to tense your end of the rope a little, “what do you feel?” You scratch your nails down his arm.

The gloved hand furthest away from you balls into a fist, clutching sand. “It—it, uh. It burns.” The words are dragged out and gritty, like they’re forcing their way out. He shivers and shuffles closer to you. “But—fuck—feels good. You—you feel good.” Encouraged, your nails sink into his flesh, testing the waters. Finally, it earns you a grunt, deep and rumbling its way between your thighs. In a split second, his arms fly to his shoulder, tugging at the cloak desperately, and you remove your hand from the opening to help him. It takes a few rough jerks, but the cloak eventually rips away from his pauldrons, and the Mandalorian throws it back. His hand travels to the side of his torso closest to you and signals. “Cut here.” He doesn’t offer an explanation this time.

Shit, you probably shouldn’t. But wetness is gathering around your folds and you’re not sure if you’ll actually get anywhere, but, Maker, you’re willing to try. Your hand is trembling when it finds the scissors next to you and you crouch slightly to cut away, eager and desperate to reveal more of the mysterious bounty hunter. This time, though, you don’t make a crevice, but instead cut a long rectangle from his waist to the side of his chest. You drop the scissors and the piece of fabric on top of the cloak and waste no time before your right palm crawls into the opening. Boiling skin welcomes your hand as it explores his naked torso, up a sturdy chest rising and falling rapidly, and back down again, savoring the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles flexing under your fingers. You stop at a trail of hair near his navel.

The Mandalorian growls. You scratch the hair lightly. The rope snaps.

Your hand slips outside when two hands grab your hips to lift you, setting you down to straddle Mando’s lap. You fall ungracefully, wobbling and grabbing at him to find your balance, until his steel arms wrap around your waist to press your chest to his. You grab his shoulders for support, and your warm breath clouds the beskar of his helmet. Your hips squirm unconsciously, making your core accidentally rub against something hard between the hunter’s legs. His grip on your back tightens and grinds you against him again, making him release a deep, primal moan against your ear. Fuck, you feel how hot liquid plops on your underwear as he ruts you against his erection, but somewhere in the back of your brain a puzzle solves itself in a snap and sends a pang of guilt to your chest.

“M-mando.” You sound whinier than you intended. “Mmando, I—I’ve heard about this, you’re poisoned, y-you don’t know what you’re d—”

“—Shut up,” he spits at you and pushes you roughly against him as a hand unwinds from your waist and wraps over your mouth. Your moans are muffled against his glove when a current shocks your body as your clit rubs just right over his bulge. You glance up at the stars, looking for guidance around the overwhelming pleasure threatening to break you, but they only stare back, burning brighter than before.

Suddenly, Mando pulls his hands away and pushes you off his lap. You fall back kneeling, worrying you’ve crossed a line somehow, but your anxieties disappear when you see him rip off his gloves and pull at your clothes hastily. You take the hint and help him undress you. The top garments he removes, but your underwear is ripped away and thrown to the side.

He whips around and finds his cloak, laying it on the sand and silently ordering with a finger to get on top. You shuffle on your knees until they reach the soft material, and—just when you’re about to turn around and beg him to touch you—the Mandalorian lifts the rectangle of cloth you cut away and wraps it around your eyes. Your vision gone but impossibly turned on, you feel his hands shove you back until you lay on the cloak.

Sand and hair tickle your face, and maybe it’s not the best idea to lay completely naked in the middle of a desert where you already know dangerous animals hide. The thought is quickly washed away by the heat of humid breath on your stomach. It throws you off for a moment, to feel a human gasp so clearly against your skin, but once you put two and two together the realization hits you so hard you slump limp on the ground.

The helmet…

You barely have time complete your thought. The Mandalorian climbs on top of you, a tuff of hair tickling your stomach. The trail of heat stops at your tits, where he takes a nipple into his mouth and bites down hard. You whimper to the sky.

“F-fuck, what—” He cuts you off when he laps at the injured nipple with fast, wide strokes of his tongue, before sucking hard on it. One palm holds down your chest, as the other comes up to squeeze your other breast, kneading and pulling the soft flesh like dough. You try to bite down your whimpers, but it’s too fucking much and they tumble outside urgent and needy.

Fuck, you should push him away. You both need to calm down before he forgets your body is attached to a living, breathing person and tears you apart. You—you—

The atmosphere seems to fall down on top of you when two thick fingers sink to the hilt inside your open hole effortlessly. You hum at the bliss while Mando’s wet tongue travels between your breasts, up your sternum, and leans into the curve of your throat, stopping only until it reaches your chin. You’re starting to cramp beneath him, trying to push down on his digits, but his body is too heavy over yours and fuck, fuck, you want him inside you.

His hand wraps around your cheeks and presses them together, making your mouth give in to the pressure and open up wide. His tongue—still salty with the taste of your own flesh—barges into the cave of your mouth and messily drags across its walls, your tongue, the roof, somehow everything at once with aimless movements that lack rhythm or pace.

And then his fingers start pumping. They start fast and hard and only get faster and harder, as they curl into a hook and hit something that makes you see the stars outside through the blindfold. Mando moans against your teeth, and you swallow every vibration.

“Yeah? T-there?” His mouth moves away from yours and trails the edge of your jaw, stopping at the edge and biting your neck. The two fingers working inside you push upwards to make room for a third one, and the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your clit up and down. Your scream echoes in the empty space of the sterile desert, now buzzing with life. “R-right there? Hm?” His voice hangs thick in the air, mixing with the loud static in your ears. Through the haze, you wonder momentarily what his face looks like right now. Probably red and sweaty, popping a vein or two.

“Fuck, I don’t k-know…I—I have to…” The Mandalorian removes all three fingers at once, making you yelp at the emptiness that they leave behind. Your pussy clenches a second too late and pulses around nothing, as you move in the darkness to find him again. You open your mouth to beg, but he grabs your shoulders before you can even gather some broken vocabulary together and he turns you around, pressing your chest and face against the cloak.

Resting your cheek on the cloak, you grunt at the abrupt change of position. Five fanned out fingers press down between your shoulder blades, restricting your movements and compressing all the air out of your lungs. You can’t breathe and you can’t wait, too stimulated to backpedal now, but not enough to be satiated.

An arm wraps around your midriff and roughly lifts your hips. You hear heavy breathing behind you and some incoherent mumbling, as a zipper lowers.

Something round and smooth pokes at your entrance.

Is…is that…?

It definitely feels like the head of his cock as it runs up and down your folds gathering moisture. It even twitches a little against your clit and he’s grunting with every movement but…but even without your sight to help it feels so big. It can’t be his cock, in what universe would he be that fucking bi—

A grunt and a slight retrieval of his hips for impulse is all you get as a warning before he slams into you, lurching you forward. It knocks every single thought out your head, jamming what little air you’d managed to inhale on your trachea. The stretch bites, straining against your walls at an uncomfortable angle. And then he grinds further inside, deeply and hard as the bulbous head of his cock stimulates just about every nerve inside your pussy at once. You choke on your own cry, desperately trying to hold on to some sanity as you focus on processing the burst of pleasure that casts a dark shadow over the pain. The feeling secures every muscle on your body so tightly you think your spine is going to snap.

And he holds there, pulsing angrily and breathing down hot against your shoulders. You feel a slow trail of flames burn your insides with every strong sequence of thum-thum-thums of his thick cock against your walls.

Stars, did he cum? Is that why he’s throbbing so violently, did he cum? It’s hard to tell when you’re so wet you’re sure you’re going to dehydrate tomorrow and fuck you only get wetter with the strumming and Maker you know the snake was poisonous but…but could he really want you this much?

He sucks in a gulp of dusty air through his teeth, grunts and holds you tighter, his arm strong as beskar around your midriff and a burning palm pressing you against the cloak, sinking it deeper into the sand.

Finally, the Mandalorian pulls out with a grunt, your hips following his with a sucking sound because of the grip of your walls against his girth. He stops right before the tip slips out, its ridge catching on your opening. And maybe whatever venom running through his veins dissipated because he doesn’t move for a second that feels like an eternity. Fleeting disappointment surges inside you because maybe…maybe it was just the serpent. Maybe he doesn’t really want you. You are the only fuckable thing for miles, and you’ve heard enough about the toxin to imagine how desperate he’d be. Stars, you feel like such an idi—

Mando’s hips suddenly crash against yours, sinking himself to the hilt.

You feel him everywhere. Fucking everywhere, even where he isn’t. The fat cock hammering into you randomly with no pace or metric, seemingly determined to taste every inch inside your cunt takes most of your attention, but the hand on your back kneads and pulls the thin skin there as best as it can. You try to brace yourself against something solid—anything—but when your hands form fists they find only handfuls of sand, and the delicate particles do nothing to steady you from the animalistic thrusts of the Mandalorian.

So you moan, long and high to try and release all the pleasure stockpiling inside of you with no exit routes. Mando answers with grunts all the way down in his glottis. A deep and angled snap of his hips hits you somewhere electrifying, and you feel something hot and liquid knot your pelvic muscles tighter. His skin slaps against yours obscenely, paired with the squelching of your pussy trying to engulf him deeper and deeper in spite of his size.

“T-take it,” you hear him growl behind you. Barely. Your ears ring and you can’t even listen to your own whimpers anymore. His length keeps coming, restless and infinite and fuck, you need to focus on something else, something outside to keep your head from slipping away. “Just—just f-fucking take me whole, you—"

Fuck, focus. Focus, count to ten, do something—

You grit your teeth and you can’t even warn him. Something drops into your pelvic muscles and you swear you can see the blue desert sky in a flash behind your eyelids and feel the blinking stars prickling the nerve endings on your back, making you spasm desperately. Your head spins, and you only feel pleasure. Only him.

Still half-passed out from your release, you hear it before you feel it. The wet sound contrasting the dry dunes of how he keeps using your cunt to get himself off. He’s not letting you come down, fall to the natural next step of your cycle and relax. Breathe. No, he keeps filling every last inch of you, faster now with the help of the additional wetness and holds you in that state of euphoria that keeps hitting you like a tide. Shit, are you cumming again?

“F-fuck—fuck—d-did you—ngh—cum? W-was that—” Another wave hits you and you clamp down mercilessly around him before he can get an answer. His long moan gets you wetter somehow, and you can’t even savor it before the strong forearm holding your waist pulls you upright against him.

Up is down as you try to figure out in the darkness where your body ended up. Something slumps behind you and pulls you down with it hard against the cushioning of the sand. You find yourself impaled on the Mandalorian’s cock, his chest to your back. He bends and opens his legs to grab yours, pulling them back and hooking them around his cuisses. Propped up with most of your weight on Mando’s hips, your feet barely graze the cloak below them.

You reach up to touch him but he beats you to it, wrapping his arms around your torso and grabbing the surely bruising skin of your tits. Your eyes roll back and you try you best to keep your head above the water, which proves incredibly difficult when you feel his lips on your jaw, his drool trailing down your neck. You turn your head and he doesn’t miss a beat before his tongue slips between your lips, tasting and exploring and almost drinking from you like you’re water in he’s been stranded in this desert for years.

Mando thrust up at you, resuming his senseless fucking. And maybe you’re a little greedy. Maybe it’s wrong, especially because you don’t have an excuse to act like this, but you roll down into his cock, wanting him everywhere and for as long as you can get him. His thrusts are almost impossible to meet and his thickness catches at your opening, but you work diligently—determined to have him buried as deeply as he wants to go. The beskar of his chest trembles against your shoulders with a vibrating, noiseless moan.

“You—you pretty t-thing,” he breathes lowly against your mouth. You grab his knees for support and push down harder. “I’ve want—wanted this—w-wanted you f-for so—so long.” He bites your lower lip. His voice sounds delirious.

Maker, it’s ridiculous. You’re bouncing your pussy on his stiff cock like an animal in heat, but his words warm your chest more than your core. You know it’s probably the poison talking, but you indulge in it. You let your hand cradle his cheek and bring your lips sweetly against his, pretending you’re his lover and not just a vessel for his release. He gasps into the kiss.

It’s with your lips that he finally lets go. It happens midthrust, so his cum spurts out of you and dribbles down his cock. It smears on your folds and, surely, on the cloak beneath. Stars, you’re shaking. Your legs spasm with the promise of another orgasm that almost—almost happened. Still holding you, Mando pulls out, and the rest of his seed spills on wool and sand.

What now? If not the sweat and the fucking, then his release surely evacuated the venom by now. The Mandalorian pants behind you, just as spent and exhausted, and what the hell are you supposed to say to each other now? You squirm uncomfortably at the dilemma, and your slit accidentally drags against something upright beneath you. Mando winces at the contact.

Maker, is he still hard? How—?

Fingers dig into your arms and force you forward and away from him. You fall on top of the cloak, barely pillowing your fall with your forearms before you feel the Mandalorian turning you around to face him.

You lay open below him, ruined and confused in the darkness as to what he’s planning for you next. Your clit pulses with equal parts arousal and apprehension at the uncertainty, but it decides for the former when you feel him dip his fingers in your entrance and scoop his cum and yours. The sound of him pumping himself faster and faster is muffled by his moaning. It’s filthy gibberish: loose words of everything he’s dreamt about doing to you; of how he’s going to fuck you over and over again; of how you’re going to take every drop of him; of how good it’s going to be for you.

Four fingers land on your clit and work it wetly up and down. A whine escapes you and you’re so sensible it almost hurts and your head swims and he’s still talking but there’s something…something sincere about his words. Something that hides beneath the frantic movements against your bud that feels almost reverent. Like the snake’s toxin only lifted a veil, revealing the Mandalorian’s pent up lust and primal instincts below his layers of unyielding discipline.

“S-so, so fucking good for me, so—"

You cry out when your walls tighten around nothing with powerful contractions, deciding at some point of the frenzy that consumes you that you’ll take advantage of this queer land and the limbo its night has thrown both of you into. Deciding you’ll let the Mandalorian explore his more primitive urges and fuck you into tomorrow, whatever “tomorrow” may mean for your relationship with him.

The sound of him fucking his hand quickens and you hear it closer to your body. You can’t tell exactly where.

“I—I—gonna c-cum.” His voice tightens in his throat. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” you answer breathlessly, and you mean it.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian sex pollen #star wars smut

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

Text

Chapter Six.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 13.8k

WARNINGS: sexual content

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

January 4, 2018

With every article of clothing that flew from the closet, Harry neatly folded each piece as he laid them flat in Luci’s suitcase. He remained seated on her beige rug, leaning against the side of her bed with an open luggage that was sat next to him as he intently listened to her ramble nervously about the new adventure she was about to take on.

Luci had a flight tomorrow morning that was quite early for her own liking, and she was just now packing her belongings. To be fair, she had been busy meeting Samantha for extra discussions about work, and she even met her new manager, Thea, who had been so excited to meet her and manage her. Thea was a forty-two-year-old woman who had quite the experience in being a Hollywood manager. Her and Samantha were a dream-team, as they would like to call themselves, for a few years now and they’d managed to raise the newest stars up on the Hollywood sign itself. Their work was promising, and Luci put her trust and her career in the hand of the two women.

For the past three days, Harry and Luci had been spending as much time with each other. They were saddened to be together for only three days, which was the exact amount of time they’d officially been in a relationship. But they were making the most of their time with making dinners together and sleepovers since that was the only available time Luci had since she had been so busy during the day. Harry was lucky school wasn’t back in session yet so he could put his full attention on Luci.

Once her luggage was filled with all different types of clothing and shoes, Harry closed it for her, rolling it over next to the front door before grabbing the duffel bag he lent her and dropping it next to the luggage. It was nearing ten at night and Luci had to leave for the airport at four in the morning since Thea had booked her flight for six because she was going straight to the studio to meet the rest of the cast and do table readings.

Harry found Luci leaning against the countertop with her back towards him. He could tell just how tense she was because of her anxiety and nerves that were boiling in her body; her shoulders seemed like they were frozen because of how tense she was, and he knew her neck started to ache because she kept rolling her head around to relieve the pain. All he wanted her to do was relax, and he could only do so much to help her ease the nerves.

He’d learned that Luci’s love language was words of affirmation, indicating that she needed constant reassurance. It seemed fitting because as an actress, she always wanted feedback on her work; plus, she was always one for needing validation for every single thing she was proud of. And Harry seemed like the perfect guy to give her that reassurance because he loved uplifting her mood, hyping her up, and making her happy.

Pressing his chest against her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder. His hands rubbed her lower stomach, and just the mere touch had made her relax as she loosened up in his arms; he held her up tightly so she wouldn’t have to anymore.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but he always wanted to make sure.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous,” she responded, even though he had already known.

He kissed her cheek, and Luci melted. “You’re gonna do amazing, I just know it. The producers were so impressed with you that they wanted you to be in their movie. No one could deny your talent, Ci, I can promise you that. You’re fucking marvelous.” He had said the exact words that Luci needed to hear; she smiled, caressing his tattooed arm with her soft hand.

“Thank you, baby.” She turned her head to the side, meeting his lips before planting an appreciative kiss for all that he had done for her.

“C’mon, wanna show you something.” He unwrapped his arms, making her turn around suspiciously before leading her into her bedroom.

On her bed was a photo album that had a brown leather exterior with black trimmings to protect the edge of the book. They both sat on the edge of the bed as they looked down at the front of the album.

“This is just a little something that I thought you would appreciate,” Harry said before handing it to her.

Luci slowly opened it to the first page of the album. Taped on a thick white construction paper was the Playbill booklet of the show, along with Harry’s ticket that he purchased next to it; at the bottom had the date of the night Luci had performed for the first time in Harry’s handwriting. On the back of the first page was every single good review everyone had to say about Luciana Suki. The reviews were cut out into strips as he tried to fit as many reviews as he possibly could on the square paper. When Harry was glueing the reviews on them, he left out about ten critics because they simply couldn’t fit on the paper; a sense of proudness had washed over him because Luci was just a likeable person along with her amazing talent—no one could not like her,

Flipping the clear plastic sheet protector, the next page was Halloween, where Harry printed the pictures Nina had taken of them. He did not forget to write at the bottom of the page that it was Luci who had asked him out, along with the date. They both laughed once they read it because it was a memory they simply would never forget.

On the back of the Halloween page was their first date. They had taken a selfie in front of the sunset, moments before their first kiss, capturing their well-spent day together. Along with their picture was the fair food Harry had taken, imitating a food blogger; a picture of Luci with wide eyes, staring into the camera as she took a bite of her food. Harry had smiled, heart fluttering after he’d taken the picture.

The last page was recent; the day Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He’d managed to make a copy of the photobooth strips since he wanted to keep the real ones on hand. The date he asked her was written in between the third and last picture as those were the exact moments he’d asked her and she said yes.

The scrapbook was the most sentimental and thoughtful gift Luci had ever received; the time and effort Harry had put into making the entire thing showed within his creative scrapbooking skills, and it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever given her.

“Harry…” her eyes were blurry from the tears, threatening to fall out.

“This’ll be our little memory book. I know it’s very early in our relationship, but I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and that I’ll look back on these memories and smile because we had the best times. And I’ll keep this going and fill it with all future memories and your accomplishments because I’m so incredibly proud of you.” He delicately took her face into his hands as if he was holding a piece of art as he caressed her soft cheek with his thumb. Luci’s tears had hit his finger, overwhelmed with how much adoration and admiration Harry was giving her.

“Thank you. I…adore you so much.”

Far too early to say those three words, she settled for the second closest thing that verbally told him how she felt, but her feelings were just as close to the real thing, no matter if it was too early or not.

Harry blushed. “I adore you, too.”

Just like her, he felt those three words swimming on the tip of his tongue. His heart was beating unbelievably fast for how early their relationship was, and he made no effort into slowing down his heartbeat because he quite liked how she had that affect on him.

Gently, she connected her lips with his. They kissed and swirled their tongues together as the electric spark ignited inside of them. Luci held onto him as tight as she possibly could, savoring his presence, his touch, his closeness since she would go months without any of those things.

He pulled away from their intense and passionate kisses, making Luci pout and he quickly pecked her lips, kissing her frown away.

“Can I show you how much I adore you?”

The question had caught her off-guard. “You wanna…”

“Only if you’d let me. I wanna take care of you,” he said genuinely. It didn’t take Luci long to nod yes. “Let me hear you say it. Please, I need your words.” Harry pleaded.

She looked at him intently before she softly said, “Take care of me, Harry.”

Her words only brought him relief before he kissed her cheek and pushed at her shoulder to lie back. Luci got comfortable as she laid in the middle of the bed; Harry had moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin but not hard enough to leave a mark. She softly moaned at the feeling; his lips had affected her quite a lot, and it always left her wondering what else he could possibly do with those pink lips of his and she was finally going to find out.

Harry settled in between her legs, which she was quick to welcome him. He was hovering over her, kissing every bit of exposed skin that he saw as his hands were toying with the hem of her sweater.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, referring to her sweater.

“Yes.” She nodded.

Harry lifted her sweater, chills entered her skin as her warm sweater was taken away from her and thrown to the side of the bed. The newest bit of skin that he hadn’t seen only made him want to kiss every inch of her, to learn and memorize every crevice and dip of body. Eagerly, he kissed the valley and tops of her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, Luciana,” he complimented. There was something about Harry telling her that she was beautiful and adding her full name with it that made her feel like snow on a warm day; she had melted entirely just by his statement.

He took her hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking and pulling at it. Luci’s hand met his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as she let out soft breaths of air. Kissing down her body, her eagerness heightened as she subconsciously bucked her hips slightly into his torso as she felt Harry smirk against her stomach.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, looking down at him. Harry looked up as her elbows were slightly propped up against the bed with a smile that matched his.

“Not gonna laugh, baby.”

“Okay…” she dragged out, her tone teasing.

Continuing, he kissed the skin above the hem of her leggings before he asked if he could take them off, and she said yes. Kneeling on the bed, he took off her dark grey leggings as her legs went straight up; she was left in her cotton nude underwear, and Harry felt like he could come on the spot. He’d truly never seen someone so beautiful until he met Luci, and his admiration for her had only increased.

“Stunning. Gorgeous. Every fucking synonym for the word ‘beautiful.’” He was amazed by her beauty, and he clearly wasn’t afraid to let her know. He loved the way she looked when she was shy and flustered, and when her cheeks would heat up too much for her own liking. But Harry thought she was absolutely adorable when she was feeling those emotions.

“Harry, you’re too sweet.”

“Mm, and I bet you are too?” He raised his brows, a smug smile appeared on his face. Luci bit one side of her bottom lip before she licked her lips.

“Then why don’t you hurry up and taste for yourself.” In all honesty, she was impatient, and she was eager to feel his mouth against her.

Harry chuckled, grabbing one of her ankles as he pressed a kiss to it, trailing his lips along the inside of her legs. He felt the goosebumps that had pricked her legs, and he loved having that sort of affect on her. Once he got to her thigh, he put her leg down and laid on his stomach in between her legs before proceeding to kiss up her thighs.

Satisfaction was handed to him when he heard Luci heavily breathing through her nose due to his heavy and teasing kisses when he hadn’t even touched her where she wanted it the most.

“Baby, please.” Luci’s tone was desperate as her arousal only increased, anticipating the relief she was going to feel once he touched her core.

“Alright, alright. Since you said ‘please.’” He removed her underwear and dragged them off her legs. The sight and scent of her only salivated his mouth, only ready to devour and pleasure her to the fullest. His blood had rushed below his waist, slightly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck, aren’t you a sight.” Luci felt shy and intimidated under his stare, causing her to close her legs, but he was quick to stop her before she closed them all the way. “No need to go shy on me, Ci. Just admiring your beauty because you’re absolutely marvelous.” She thanked him, a small smile found her face. “Now, can I please get a taste?” He asked once more.

“Yeah, make me feel good.”

He kissed the crevice of where her thigh and vulva met before he licked her clit. A spark was sent through her body as he continued licking, sucking her sensitive bud into his mouth, pulling back slightly.

The feeling of his mouth on her was everything she ever hoped for. She had been so stressed about the changes that were happening quite quickly that made her feel on edge and extra needy. Especially when Harry was her boyfriend, looking extra good, she was particularly eager to jump his bones.

“Mm, yeah, like that.” She moaned out, bucking her hips against his mouth as the tip of his tongue rimmed around her entrance, collecting and tasting her arousal.

“Taste so good, fuck. Could be down here for hours,” he said before he boldly licked a long stripe from her weeping hole to her clit.

He took his thumb and rubbed the bud, making her jolt because of how sensitive she was already while taking his middle finger, lubricating it with her wetness before inserting it into her hole. He pumped in and out, curled his finger, and caressed her walls, all while slowly rubbing her clit in circles. Harry earned a throaty moan, and since his hands were occupied, he finally had a moment to really look at her and take in her appearance on what he was doing to her.

His beautiful girlfriend had her legs wide open with her back arched. She let out a string of moans and a series of curses as she placed her hands on her tits, kneading the flesh and playing with her nipples to only add to her sensitivity and pleasure.

Harry was rock hard once he had a taste of her, but seeing her playing with herself, touching herself was the cherry on top. As if he could help it, he bucked his hips against the edge of the mattress as he let out a soft moan of relief, even though he’d rather have Luci touch him herself.

“Harry. Harry. Harry.” She chanted as if it were the last and only thing she knew. His name off her tongue sounded like poetry—so sultry, so sensual, and so seductive. He never wanted another person to say his name again because for all he knew, Luci had possession of it.

“C’mon, baby. Get there. Get there for me, yeah?” He never once stopped his movements, and he would beat himself up over it if he did.

“Another…finger.” Luci requested, and he complied. Adding his index finger right next to his middle, he curled both of them up in sync, hitting the soft part of her upper walls and her g-spot.

He relentlessly hit her sweet spot over and over again, and it had Luci moaning loudly; her sounds bounced off the walls of her room, going straight to Harry’s ears. Just as Luci was, he was on the edge as well; he continued rutting his hips against the mattress and wanted to release so badly, but he was waiting for Luci’s pleasure to wash over her.

Replacing his thumb that was rubbing her clit so graciously with his tongue, he flicked his tongue up and down in a fast motion as he kept fingering her. She was quick to respond to the change as she tightened around his finger.

“When you’re ready, baby, come for me.”

Those were just the words that she needed to hear; her breaths were staggered as they were caught in her throat. For a moment in between the anticipated orgasm she’d been waiting for, she looked down at Harry because she knew that with just one look at him, she would combust. And when she did, Luci met his jaded eyes that were looking so hopeful for her release, like he was hungry for it. Her mouth fell open, disconnecting her vision from Harry as she threw her head back onto the pillow while her orgasm had tickled her skin into a toe-curling, back-arching, and loud-moaning pleasure that took her breath away.

The rough tugs of Harry’s hair from Luci’s hands and the taste of her orgasm on his tongue only gave him the release that he was working for. He moaned against her core as the vibrations were sent through her body, making her shake. Harry’s hips slowed its movements as he breathed heavily through his nose, licking and tasting every drop that Luci had to offer him.

Harry rested his head against Luci’s thigh; they both were catching their breaths from their orgasm as soft huffs came from their mouths. She propped her elbows up and looked down at the gorgeous man below her who was pressing kisses to her inner thigh. Running a hand through his hair, Harry looked up and she gave him a sweet smile. He crawled onto the bed, still in between her legs as he propped down onto her chest; Luci giggled at his adorableness.

“You’re…,” she couldn’t finish her sentence as her orgasm made her speechless. Harry planted his elbows next to her, coming face-to-face with Luci before pressing a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him as she swirled her tongue with his. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, anywhere, Ci. I should be thanking you, though.” Luci tilted her head in confusion. “I, uh, seemed to have taken care of myself also,” he said bashfully as her eyebrows raised. So, that’s what all the moaning and heavy breathing was about, she said to herself. “I’m sorry, that’s kinda embarrassing-”

“No.” She immediately stopped him. “That’s not embarrassing at all. That’s actually pretty fucking hot.” She reassured, the corner of her lips turning up.

“Really?” He’d never came before while eating someone out, but he’d been so captivated by her sounds and her taste that he couldn’t help but let himself go.

“Hell yeah, baby.” She placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Their kiss didn’t deepen or lead to anything more than just sweet affection; it was enough to ease all of Harry’s worries away.

Once they giggled and shared a few kisses, they cleaned up and refreshed themselves for bed. Harry’s ability to make her feel incredibly good had made her forget that she had a flight to catch early in the morning; and it would take her away from Harry for four months. Her sadness and anxiousness had begun to settle once they finally got comfortable under the covers—more so, Harry was comfortable as Luci was anxious.

Despite the dreamy orgasm, her body was tense against him, and he’d felt it easily. He turned his head to look at her, and her mind was present; she stared up at the ceiling, toying with her fingers as she rolled her foot in circles, her ankles occasionally cracking once they returned to the starting point.

“Hey,” Harry broke her away from her thoughts; Luci looked up at him. “You okay?”

She nodded, though he could still sense her unsureness. “Just sad…nervous,” she admitted.

Harry lowered himself on the bed so he could be leveled to where she was laying. They shared a pillow, which they’d done plenty of times and left no room for the ‘cold side of the pillow.’ But it was intimate and sweet, and a mix of both their scents combined.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” He asked softly.

Luci took a deep breath before she started. “Everything’s happening so fast, and it’s making me nervous. I-I just don’t want things to completely change.”

“Nothing’s gonna change, Ci. And if it does, it’ll be for the better. Your career is gonna take off and you’re gonna star in so many amazing films and shows. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah…” The one thing on her mind had been bugging her for the past few days, and it drove her up the wall once she thought about it too much. But the only way for her to put her gear into reverse and come down from that wall was to tell him the truth. “I don’t want anything to change between us.”

If he was being honest, Harry had thought about that quite a bit. Hell, he’d thought about it even before he asked her to be his girlfriend and when they were just friends. He had thought about how when Luci was famous, their relationship and friendship was bound to change. Would they still be together? Would they still be friends? Would she forget about him and forget about their time that was spent together? So many questions had scrambled in his brain that all of the overthinking thoughts felt so familiar to him.

But he wasn’t going to spew out every single one.

Instead, he kept an optimistic attitude about their relationship.

“Nothing’s gonna change, alright? We’re gonna get through this. And if things do change, we’ll work together to adjust to it,” he reassured, although he was unsure himself. He didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire Luci had in her head at the moment because that would only make things worse. Plus, she had a flight to catch early in the morning, and she really needed to rest now.

His words seemed to calm her mind down, and she was grateful that one of them was stable enough to comfort the other. So, she nodded, taking what he said to heart. They were gonna get through this, and she put her whole faith on them.

She murmured a ‘thank you,’ feeling too tired to talk any more as it seemed her head had exhausted her. She got comfortable next to Harry, tucked away in his side as her fists huddled up the material of his sweater, wrinkling the area. Harry rubbed her back, soothing his girlfriend for a little before hearing snores, thankful that she was able to sleep with no trouble.

He lied awake in a complete daze as the only thing on his mind was Luci and how amazing she was without the complete knowledge that their relationship was definitely going to change.

It had been two weeks since Luci left for California, and Harry had never felt more alone in his life, not even during the times before he met Luci. He knew it would only get better with time, but he’d gone months talking and seeing her almost everyday until this moment.

She made sure to text him whenever she got the chance to, which he was relieved about. Her texts had always provided a sense of comfort and happiness to him whenever he saw her name on his phone. Each greeting was filled with excitement and longing. Whenever it just so happened that Harry was busy and Luci was available, she’d text him ‘I miss you,’ along with other types of messages that practically begged Harry to get a glance at his phone to see who was blowing up his phone.

Their new long-distance relationship was unfamiliar as neither of them had ever been in one before. It was unspoken how they handled it, besides from the basic ‘call or text me when you get the chance.’ However they knew they’d face the problem head-on together.

“Alright, everyone, hope you all have a great and safe weekend!” Harry announced once the loud bell rang before them. “Make sure to catch up on all your readings, please. You know who you are,” he said in a teasing tone.

He sat down in his black chair that swiveled and reclined, great for his back; a few of his students had asked him a few questions about their essays once he sat down, which he was happy to help and glad to see that they were using their time to ask him questions. He said ‘goodbye’ to the last student who was exiting his classroom and wished him a ‘happy Friday.’

Pulling out his phone from the top drawer of his desk, he smiled as his phone lit up, seeing a message from Luci that was sent thirty minutes ago.

Finished with table reading :) Might go for some drinks with the cast. Hope class is doing well!

Quickly, he typed back. His fingers seemed to take over, hoping she’d see his message before she puts her phone down for another few hours.

Hi, baby. Just finished with class and gonna head home in a bit. Are you up for a call later tonight? No worries if you can’t and you’re out. x

Harry set his phone down once he didn’t see the bubble pop up as he looked at their message thread for two minutes. He figured he could get some grading done and impute the student’s grades into the system so he could distract himself and make use of his time.

Every five minutes, he would pick up his phone, and once he saw that there was no text from Luci, he’d put it face down and get back to work. He did that for the next two hours, and ended up staying until four, grading papers and constantly checking his phone.

A knock on his classroom door had made him whip his head towards it, finding his colleague standing in the doorframe.

“Not going home any time soon?” Carina, one of the math teachers, crossed her arms and smiled a bit. She was one of the first teachers Harry had made friends with and one of the closest in the school. She’d been working at the middle school for three years and had introduced Harry to the staff once he started teaching. Harry had to admit, he had the slightest bit of crush on Carina as her red hair and green eyes seemed to attract him.

They hung out a few times, mostly inside one of their classrooms during lunch. Harry even developed the tiniest crush on her, only because Carina was a new person in his life and she was quite nice.

There had been one Friday where Harry invited her to his apartment, and they popped a bottle of wine and talked and drank. She was nice, Harry thought. But the wine had gotten the best of both of them and they soon found their lips pressed against one another. Harry thought it was nice to kiss someone, but as Carina pulled his hair and stuck her tongue into his mouth, he realized that his crush for her had disappeared instead of heightening as it was supposed to. So, he stopped her by pulling back, explaining that they couldn’t do that anymore and that he was sorry. He truly didn’t want to lead her on. Luckily, she was understanding and told him that she was going to head home.

But to his surprise on her way out, they ran into Luci who was just unlocking her door from a night out. On the inside, he was freaking out because his new neighbor had caught him red-handed—the neighbor he thought was incredibly beautiful. And he found himself completely drawn to her, pushing his feelings for Carina out of his body and welcoming the new profound feelings he had for his neighbor.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” he answered.

“Okay, well, since it’s still early, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out?” She asked confidently. Carina had always been quite confident and was a people person. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t so much a talker when it came to new people; it really depended on that person’s vibe.

He weighed his options in his head. He so badly wanted to talk to Luci tonight, or whenever he got the chance, and he was afraid that whenever she did text back, he’d be hanging out with Carina and not giving her his undivided attention because he hated being on his phone when hanging out with someone.

“Uh, maybe next time? Sorry, I’ve been-”

“No, it’s okay. I get it, you don’t have to explain. Have a good weekend, Harry.” She smiled, although he could sense the defeat from rejection inside before she walked down the hall and away from his classroom.

Harry felt bad, honestly. He didn’t like disappointing people or making them feel like what Carina probably felt. But he just hoped that his rejection still made them friends because he wasn’t really close to anyone in the teaching staff.

A big yawn took over him for a moment as he stretched his back and arms into the air before he decided it was time to go home. He hadn’t had much plans after Luci left, seeing as most of his plans for the weekend involved her, and he hoped that he could at least hear a snippet of her voice tonight to help fill the void of her presence.

But when Harry got into bed at eleven at night, he’d lost hope, and would try again tomorrow. It was minutes of tossing and turning, not finding the right position for his liking. So, he accepted his discomfort and laid on his stomach, arms and legs spread across the mattress. After a few moments of lying in silence, his phone began to vibrate against his bedside table. He looked at his phone that was face down on the wooden table, the slightest bit of light shining from the edges. Sighing, he decided to take a look at who might be calling him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Luci’s contact picture and name plastered all over the screen.

Quickly, he pressed the green button to answer. “Hello?”

“Harry!” She said loudly against the speaker phone. He could hear chatter around her and utensils hitting the glass plates, so he assumed she was at a restaurant.

“Hi, love. How are you?”

“I’m good.” She dragged the word ‘good’ out, giggling at the end of it. Luci had been drinking for a few hours now, casually sipping her drink that was barely enough to get her fully drunk as everyone was talking amongst themselves and eating. But one of her cast members had bought continuous rounds of tequila shots, so she was now to the point of drunk—tripping over her step, finding everything funny, and wanting to talk to her boyfriend. “I miss you.”

“I miss you more, love. I’m so happy I get to speak to you, even if it’s just for a moment,” he said honestly. He truly believed that not talking to Luci up until he slept at night was the reason why he was up, completely sleepless.

“Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back…” she said softly as she stood in the middle of the hallway of the restaurant that led to the restrooms.

“No worries. I’m glad you’re having a great time, though. That’s all that matters to me is that you’re happy.” His genuinity made her eyes full with tears. She wasn’t usually someone one who cried when she was drunk, but just hearing Harry’s voice and not being physically next to him made her emotional. Sue her.

“I am having a great time. Just wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

“Miss everything about you.”

Harry smiled, laying on his back with one of his arms propped behind his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Missed your hugs, your kisses, your eyes, your lips. Swear, they’re the best lips I’ve ever kissed.” Her voice was low, not wanting the people who passed her to hear what she was saying for Harry only

He couldn’t help but blush at her flirting. Even over the phone and on the other side of the country, she still managed to make him blush while his heart flipped.

“Well, now you’re just flattering me, baby.” His accented voice that was crackled through the phone had sent a chill down her spine, making her bite her lip as she leaned against the wall.

“I’m being serious!” She exclaimed, talking over the loud clatter of plates and glasses as the restaurant was cleaning up for closing.

“What else do you miss about me?” Now, he was just teasing. It stroked his ego to hear her tell him everything she’d missed about him; it made him feel good inside.

“Missed…” she paused for a moment as she was unsure if she should say such a thing in public.

“C’mon, tell me, Ci,” he encouraged. His tone was pleading, and if she were right in front of him and not across the country, he’d be on his knees in front of her just by how he presented his words.

“Missed you between my legs.” She curled his lips into her bite, preventing herself from biting her lip as she might accidentally seduce someone that passed by.

Harry smirked. “Yeah? What do you miss about that?” He heard her sigh, and he knew that she was trapped under his spell that he’d miraculously casted from New York. With that certain memory, he constantly thought about it. The sounds she made. The way she tasted. How she felt in his hold. It made sure she was tattooed in his mind.

“Missed how you made me feel good; how your mouth and fingers felt inside of me.” Her voice itself was enough to get Harry’s cock to twitch inside of his sweatpants as it was extra raspy because she was trying her hardest to keep her volume at a low level. Now, she couldn’t stop confessing everything she missed about him, and who was Harry to tell her to stop? “I miss the way you would lick me, how you would tease me a little even though it drove me insane. I missed the way your hair felt between my fingers, and when you would moan because I pulled at them roughly. I, especially, miss the way you made yourself feel good and how you came just from seeing me come. That was my favorite part of that night.”

She crossed one of her legs over the other as she squeezed her thighs together. Her words had given her blinks of flashbacks from their last night together; and oh, how she so badly wanted to make that moment last. Harry was fully hard underneath his pants, and he tried his hardest not to relieve the straining pain.

“Fuck, baby. You have no idea how much I miss you.”

“Promise me you’ll show me once we’re together again,” she demanded, and a smug smile appeared on his face.

“That’s definitely a promise, Luciana.”

There he goes again with her full name, Luci thought. Before she was about to respond, she saw the group get up from their chairs from her peripheral view.

“I’m looking forward to it, baby. I-I gotta go.” Their chat had sobered her up just a tad bit, and the wetness of her panties had slightly woken her up, wishing Harry was there to take care of her.

“Alright, love. Get back safely, please, and text me when you get back to the house,” he requested softly, not necessarily wanting to know her every location but to know if she’s safe.

“Will do. I…adore you.”

Harry smiled. “I adore you so much more.”

With that, they hung up. Luci said goodbye to her coworkers before getting into an Uber to Thea’s home, where she would be staying for the time being; and Harry relieved himself by touching and making his hard-on go away with the thought of Luci in his head and how she tasted, which made him realized that he was going to need another taste of her so she wouldn’t disappear on his tongue,

After three weeks of rehearsals and getting to know each cast member and crew on set, Luci was exhausted. Ocean’s Eight was mostly going to be filmed in LA, where the production had a set built, but she anticipated the two to three days where she gets to be in New York to film in the Met Museum. So, being in the same state as Harry only excited her further.

It hadn’t even been a month yet nor had they even begun shooting for the film, but getting through table reading, rehearsals, and an entire run-through of how the movie was going to be filmed was taking a toll on her physical health. She felt like she hadn’t slept properly, or had gotten a good amount of sleep ever since she left New York; and mentally, she was missing her family and Harry.

Her family had always made sure to check in with her to see how she was doing because just like Luci, they shared the same excitement for the first movie she was acting in and missed her dearly. She continued to make contact with Harry, but it wasn’t as much as she would like to. Work had been so busy for her that whenever they started to have a decent conversation other than the usual ‘hi’ and ‘how are you?’, her break would be over and she would have to walk away from her phone, which was the closest she’d been to Harry in three weeks.

It was almost five in the evening on a Wednesday night when everyone had wrapped up for the day. Sighs of relief were heard through everyone as they all knew that rehearsals were over and sometime within the next few days, they were going to start shooting.

Luci packed up her belongings, taking an extra water bottle for the road before she said goodbye to everyone and headed out of the studio. It was a chilly evening as the soft winds brushed past her while she quickly made her way to her car that she’d rented out. The white Honda Civic keeping her safe on the roads of Hollywood was nothing like the subways of New York, but it was a nice change since she hadn’t driven in a while. One thing she absolutely hated about driving in LA was the traffic and the aggressive drivers in said traffic; and all Luci could do was groan, saying that they weren’t going nowhere with that kind of traffic. It’s always the Prius drivers who’re reckless, she thought.

Just as she was about to get inside the car, one of the producers, Jane, had called out for her, catching her before she drove away.

“Hey, Jane. What’s up?” Luci rolled down her window.

Jane took a deep breath, catching her breath. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. This is the new schedule for next week with all the scenes that are scheduled for each day. You’ll start filming in a week, so you have a small break. So, you’ll come back here for a few days to film a few scenes as needed, and then, we’ll be off to New York, and back here again.” She explained.

With her eyes wide, Luci took the freshly printed schedule that had a calendar outline until the end of April. Jane had highlighted her scenes, in which she’d have to go on set, and it seemed like she was booked until April.

They talked a bit more about some scenes, and Jane let her know that she may need to be on set even if she wasn’t filming but her actual start date for shooting was a week from now. They bid each other ‘goodbye’ as Jane told her that she’d see her next week, and Luci had a surge of happiness rush through her as she headed back to her temporary home for the next few months.

Unlocking the front door, Luci stepped into the dark hallway as she immediately kicked off her shoes and hung her coat in the closet right across the front door. She quietly tiptoed to her room down the hall, her feet covered in fuzzy brown socks that padded along the wooden floor as she made her way straight to the bathroom to shower off the long day she had. The scalding hot water hit her skin as she washed her scalp and used her coconut-cream body scrub that she’d been using for years, lathering up the suds and spreading it on her skin.

Once she finished in the bathroom, she headed over to her bedroom, pulling the soft pink comforter back before she laid down on the mattress as a breath of relief took over. She shifted towards the left side of the bed, towards the figure that was sleeping on her side; the familiar scent engulfed her senses.

She pressed her chest against his back, wrapping her arm around his waist as she placed a soft kiss to his neck that was exposed from his t-shirt. Her worries had washed away once she took him in her arms; the amount of comfort she found was astonishing, but she was grateful for that comfort.

He shifted and turned around in her arms, making her pull back a little bit as to not wake him from his slumber. He was now face-to-face with her, eyes closed as his eyelashes fanned out against the top of his soft cheekbones while soft breaths puffed out of his mouth. Carefully, she pushed back his floppy hair that had landed in his face, and she admired more of his beauty.

After a few moments, he moved once more but this time he felt a pair of arms around him, making him jolt as a way to wake himself up. Luci stared at him with an amusing smile on her face as she watched him wake up to realize that she was in front of him.

Blinking a few times, his vision cleared and what he saw struck him—he felt like he was dreaming, though he's not complaining if this was a dream.

“Luci?”

“Hi, Harry.” She responded, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes glossed, from what he could see in the dark room.

“W-What are you doing here?” He leaned against his elbow, slightly sitting up to fully wake himself, testing to see if this really was a dream.

“Came to see you.” Luci simply stated, brushing the side of head. Harry’s eyes were droopy, confused, and still sleepy.

“But…how-”

“Shh, we’ll talk when we wake up again, okay? It’s, like, five in the morning.” Harry had no energy to protest, but he also didn’t want to sleep because if this was an actual dream, and the next time he woke up again and Luci wasn’t holding him, then he would be very sad and disappointed.

As the minutes passed by, the two found themselves laying together and looking at one another; neither of them spoke a word as they basked in the silence and beauty and elegance they found in each other. The moonlight hanging far up in the sky and the distant lights from the city as a few people were getting an early start of their day was seeping through the curtains of the small window in Luci’s bedroom.

And this moment, dream or not, they held each other tight as they let exhaustion and sleep take over them.

The next time he woke up, Harry woke up in a frantic, gasping for air as his lungs shook him awake, begging to breathe. He looked over at the window, seeing that it wasn’t dark anymore but it was bright out in the cold and blue atmosphere. Recollecting his dream, he turned his head to the space beside him but there was no one next to him; the sheets were wrinkled and cold as he must’ve shifted around a lot in his sleep.

The time read 10:23 a.m on the bedside table. There was a moment of panic because it was a school day, but he remembered that he took the day off and called a substitute teacher in advance.

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, grabbing the large glass of water on the bedside table before chugging the entire thing to fulfill his thirst. He walked to the kitchen to grab some more water until he saw his girlfriend in a wrinkled Whitney Houston tour t-shirt and some sweats as she flipped a pancake on the stove. Luci was swaying her hips, humming a tune, and Harry realized that she had earphones in, so she hadn’t heard him walk in. He stood still for a moment, wondering if this was another dream, but he wanted to act upon his thoughts where he would attack her with hugs and kisses, but disappointment would seep through him once he realized it actually was a dream.

But this wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t blissfully in his slumber, dreaming about his girlfriend. This was very real. The sharp sting of his fingers pinching his arm had reddened his fragile skin; he purposely bumped his elbow against the wall, hitting his funny bone as he bent down in hysterical pain; he gently slapped himself a few times until he realized this was all real.

Finally, the corners of his lips turned up as he walked to stand behind Luci. He placed the glass on the counter in front of her, making her jump as she turned around, pressing her lower back against the edge of the white countertop. She took out her earphones, setting them aside as she smiled, finally getting the chance to properly greet Harry.

“You’re here,” he said, bewildered at the thought. He turned the dial of the stove off before placing his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping her in his arms.

“Yeah, I’m here. Thought I said ‘hi’ to you when I got here, no?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him, running her hands up and down his arms; goosebumps enraptured on his skin. “Happy birthday,” she greeted; he thanked her, though he had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He hadn’t even checked his phone since he’d woken up as he was sure there would be plenty of texts from Anne, who was most likely getting emotional that her baby was getting older; and Gemma, who was having a blast that was turning twenty-eight since he always teased her for getting older. But the first thing he did was find Luci. “Oh, and happy one month.”

“How…”

Luci chuckled because he still seemed to have the same reaction when she’d arrived. “I was informed that I don’t start filming until next week. So, last night, right after rehearsals, I booked a flight out here to see you on my time off, just in time for your birthday.”

“Wow, I…” Harry was speechless. “If I’m being honest, I thought that was a dream. I was sad to see you weren’t in bed when I woke up.” He pouted dramatically.

Luci chuckled. “I’m sorry about that. For the new few days, I’ll make sure to stay a little longer until you wake up. Speaking of, I’m glad to see you made use of my spare key.” She raised her brows teasingly.

When she left three weeks ago, she’d given Harry a spare key to her place just in case anything happened, so he would have access to it. She also told him that he was allowed any time in her apartment whenever he felt like it, so a couple of times a week, he would let himself into her place and sleep in her bed. Her scent that was displayed all over the pillows and the entire apartment had brought him some sort of comfort, but her sweet fragrance couldn’t compare to her presence where he could wrap his arms around her body instead of a pillow and her comforter.

Harry smiled bashfully. ��Well, you did say…”

“I know what I said, and I don’t mind it. I think it’s really adorable that you sleep here sometimes.” Luci pulled the sides of his t-shirt, bringing him forward so he was closer. “Now, can I get a proper kiss hello? I’ve missed you.”

He smirked, pressing his front against her before he took her face in the palms of his hands, leaning down as Luci tiptoed, they placed a loving and tender kiss to each other’s lips. Neither of them knew how they'd gone so long without the other’s touch because once they kissed each other, they couldn’t stop.

Everything seemed to align when they felt each other’s touch; the day seemed to get brighter, the birds chirped louder like they were singing a tune, and their admiration was stronger than ever. Every emotion and word was told through their kiss, and it was a kiss of longing and yearning. The pure desperation to compensate for the time that wasn’t spent kissing; a kiss that simply said ‘I missed you. Please don’t let me go this long without your lips.’

Matching swollen lips and a flustered state that was plastered on their faces seemed to be the theme of Luci and Harry’s reunion as they pulled back to catch some air. Harry quickly took her lips into his again before he bit down on her bottom lip, pulling back slightly, making a throaty moan escape from her, which ultimately caused Harry’s cock to bloat up.

“You can get more than just a kiss ‘hello.’” Harry muttered against her; Luci inhaled sharply. “I did promise you a little something once we were together again, right?” He challenged, a smug smile emerged on his face. His thumb caressed her cheeks, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists.

“You did.” She confirmed. “But it is your birthday, so I think I should take over today, no?” Her voice and words were doing everything right to his body. He felt every single word she spoke, and her sultry voice was going to be a broken record in his mind every single day. All he did was nod, not trusting his ability to speak. “Words, Harry, I need your words.” She’d said his words that he used when they were last together, when it was him who made her feel good.

“Yeah, take over, baby. Please.” He was completely under her spell, physically and mentally luring into her. Luci reached up to give him a brief kiss before she pulled his arm, leading him to her bedroom.

The back of thighs hit the edge of the bed, and she gently pushed at his chest so his back landed right in the middle of the mattress. She climbed onto the bed, legs astride his thighs as she began to kiss his neck, leaving a small hickey on his skin that he would admire until it faded. Playing with the hem of his shirt, she pulled away, giving him a devious smirk.

“Can I touch you?” She asked, looking so intently in his eyes.

He nodded. “Please.” His dreams and fantasy were coming to life as his mind had been filled with Luci’s body and touch when his nights were extra lonely. He didn’t need to fulfill himself with the minor satisfaction when Luci was prepared to do that for him as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his tattooed torso to her sight.

Harry took off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor before watching her become so immersed with his body. The permanent ink fascinated her, and she delicately touched the tattoos that were exposed to her eyes like it was a prized possession. Leaning down, she planted a kiss to the swallows on his collarbones, trailing down to the butterfly that was plastered on his stomach; Harry’s breath hitched as he felt himself get hard underneath her. She then licked down to his lower abdomen, where his happy trail lied between two ferns; and she opened her mouth and nibbled on the skin in between his laurel tattoos, making Harry internally groan at her tasteful teasing.

Running her fingers along the hem of his sweatpants, she asked him if she could take them off, to which he breathlessly responded: “Yes, please. Take everything off.”

His cock rested on his stomach while Luci took in his large size. Her mouth practically salivated at him; and she was eager to get him in her mouth, to get him inside of her. But she wanted to take her time to appreciate and admire his endeavours.

“You’re beautiful, Harry,” she complimented genuinely. Harry looked down at her, and just as he was about to thank her, her tongue licked the base to the tip of his needy cock, earning a loud exhale from him.

She slipped the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking and tasting the pre-come that had spilled out of the tip, swirling her tongue all around. Harry moaned, throwing his head back onto the mattress as he gripped the sheets harshly, wrinkling in his hands.

Luci took him into her mouth further, holding back the urge to gag. She breathed through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down while raking her fingernails on his torso, increasing and adding to the sensation.

“Fuck, Ci.” He breathed out, panting. The slightest bit of embarrassment took over him for a moment because he felt like he was on the edge of an orgasm; it had been way too long since he’d felt another person’s touch, another person’s mouth on him.

Pulling him out of her mouth, a string of saliva followed as it connected to her bottom lip and the middle of his cock. “Like that, hmm?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him flirtingly.

“You have no idea…” he trailed off, burying his hands into her hair. He didn’t mean to rush her into blowing him again—all he wanted to do was touch her, and the closest thing was her head—but Luci took that as a sign to continue her movements again.

“Fuck my mouth.” She requested. Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear that from her; but everyday, she surprised him. “Please. Want you in the back of my throat.” She was trying her hardest to take him further than she would like, but she couldn’t quite reach that point. “Think you deserve that, birthday boy.”

Harry inhaled sharply, containing his demeanor as a smirk landed on his mouth as he sat up, sitting on his knees. Luci’s feet were planted on the floor as her upper body was laying flat on the mattress

He leaned down so his mouth was next to her ear as he whispered, “Best birthday ever,” before giving her a quick kiss. Luci placed his dick back into her mouth, wrapping her lips around his tip as she waited for him to take over. Harry tangled his fingers into her hair before slowly bucking his hips forward as he slid into her mouth. Placing her hands on the back of his thighs, she pushed him further, urging him that he could go faster; Harry complied.

Harry felt like he was on top of the world, like nothing else mattered except for this moment right here. It was like he was in between the soft clouds that could be matched for the blanket and mattress underneath him; like he was looking down at the nature and beauty of the world conform to the beauty of Luci below him; like he was screaming at the top of his lungs his secrets for the world to hear, which corresponded to the filthy words he was spewing out and his loud moans that filled the room up; and it was like the world was screaming back at him, which was a wild Luci moaning around him, sending vibrations up his body.

He was feeling everything all at once.

And he fucking loved it.

When he pulled back to check on his girlfriend, she gasped for air. She had tears in her eyes—a few had streamed down her face—her lips were swollen, and her hair was a mess—and Harry absolutely loved it. Luci kissed up his body, meeting his lips as she gave him an eager and sloppy kiss. Their mouths connected, and he tasted himself on her tongue with the side of Luci. The best flavor ever.

“Want you so bad.” Harry managed to say between the heated kisses.

“Have at me.” She moved past him, laying down on the bed before she quickly stripped her clothes off, throwing it onto the floor where it landed next to Harry’s clothes.

“You sure? Thought you wanted to take over?” He smirked teasingly.

“Unless you wanna take over, I’m very sure.” She reached into her bedside drawer to grab a condom—an unopened pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. “Mind if we use lube? I know I’m pretty wet, but I don’t know if I’m that wet, and I want you inside of me already and I want it to feel good for the both of us.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, feel free to do it.” He kissed her reassuringly before smirking, wondering how long she’d been waiting for this moment.

He grabbed the foil packet, and rolled it onto his aching cock that was begging for a release. Grabbing the water-based lube, he squirted some of it onto his hand and rubbed it on his length before running his hand up and down her slit, and to her sensitive nub as he circled his finger, making her mewl. He settled in between her legs, placing his arms near her shoulders as he hovered over her, kissing her sweetly.

Asking her once more if she wanted to push through with it, she gave her consent, grabbing his dick before lining it up with her entrance. Harry slowly pushed in as Luci gasped at his size; he was stretching her out so well that tears pricked her eyes, the overwhelming invasion of his girth and length had made her pant.

Once he was fully in, Luci looked down in between them, seeing he was balls-deep inside of her; they both moaned in unison.

“Baby…you’re so big.” She squeezed around him, causing Harry to hiss, gripping her hips tightly. “Move, please. Need to feel you.” She couldn’t count the amount of times she’d dreamed and fantasized this moment; her fingers and her vibrator weren’t cutting it anymore.

He began to thrust; her arousal lubricated his dick even more as he smoothly slipped in and out of her. Leaning down, he took her breasts into his mouth, licking and sucking as his hand fondled the other before switching. Luci slipped her hand in between their bodies, touching and rubbing her throbbing clit; Harry smiled at the sight.

“You look so fucking pretty touching yourself, Ci. Making yourself feel good?” She nodded, closing her eyes as she threw her head back. “Am I making you feel good?” Harry’s thrusts began to quicken as his hips slammed against the back of her thighs. “Tell me.” An urgent praise needed to fill him, and her filthy words needed to be spoken.

“So good, H. Fuck…” she continued rubbing at her swollen nub as the tip of Harry’s cock brushed against her g-spot. “There. Right there. Please, don’t stop. You’re so fucking good.” She cried out into the air as he continued his movements, sweetly hitting her special spot. Unexpectedly, she grabbed one of his hands and wrapped it around her throat, covering his large with hers as they squeezed her neck together.

Harry felt like he could come right there and then at the sight of their hands wrapped around her neck. He felt her squeeze around him once more, making him groan.

“Pretty girl, Luciana. Can’t get enough.” Even in her filthy state, she still managed to get shy at his words, making him chuckle. “Don’t go shy on me now, baby. I’m fucking you, and now is the time you get shy?” He squeezed his thumb a little bit more into her skin, feeling her pulse point that was quickly pounding hard. He took his other hand and rubbed at her clit since she stopped due to all the sensations she was feeling at once. Luci began to involuntarily buck her hips, moaning louder than ever. “C’mon, Ci, give it to me.”

After a few more thrusts, a few more rubs, and a few more squeezes, she came so intensely that she saw stars. Part of it was because she was lightheaded, but her orgasm had washed over so powerfully that her body began to slightly convulse. Harry came into the condom a few moments after as a raspy groan filled the air.

Once they calmed down, Harry gently pulled out of her, taking off and throwing the condom away in the trash before he laid down beside Luci. He pulled her exhausted body to his chest, and they laid there for a moment, regaining their energy back before they could greet one another.

Luci was the first one to break the silence. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, baby. Happy one month.” He brushed her hair out of her face, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Happy one month. So many more to go.”

Harry smiled at her words. He felt a certain reassurance once she’d said that, like he wasn’t the only one feeling the intense and quick feelings that laid between them and their relationship because he truly felt like their relationship was for the long-haul, and she felt the exact same way—no matter if they’d only just started dating.

So many more to go.

“I have your gift,” Luci said, detangling herself from his arms. They’d been cuddling for the past twenty minutes, talking about random things that came to mind.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Harry sat up against the headboard as she opened her luggage, pulling out an burnt-orange knitted sweater.

“I should’ve wrapped it, sorry, but…” she handed the folded sweater to him. “Happy birthday.”

“This is so cute! I love it.” His fingers touched the soft material, observing the details and the stitching. “Thank you so much.” He held her hand, gently pulling at it so he could place a kiss to her lips.

“I’m glad. I’ve been knitting it since October, and finally got the chance to finish.” Harry’s eyes widened as he felt his heart swoon at the fact that she was doing something entirely sweet and thoughtful for him before they were even dating.

“I truly love it. Thank you, Ci. Your talents continue to surprise me.” Luci smiled, nodding her head as she thanked him. Looking at him with bright eyes, she saw the world within him. She was so insanely lucky that Harry was her boyfriend, the guy that she met the day she moved in; a certain fondness fell over her.

For Harry’s birthday and their one month celebration, he wanted to take Luci to his favorite Chinese restaurant called Tasty Plates, two blocks away—the restaurant that he bought food from for Luci’s birthday. He wore the sweater Luci gifted and made for him since he was quite excited to wear it one of his girlfriend’s creations.

Upon entering, Luci noticed a very friendly atmosphere as the employees chatted with their customers as if they’d known one another for years, which they probably had. The smell of fresh and authentic Chinese food filled her senses, and she could already feel how home-y this place was.

The restaurant was a self-seated restaurant, so Harry led her to one of the tables next to the wall that had frames upon frames of pictures and signatures of famous celebrities, athletes, and chefs that had the privilege of visiting the restaurant.

“You’re gonna be up there one day.” Harry interrupted the intent observing that she was doing to the wall.

“Hmm. You think so?”

Harry nodded his head as if it was the most overt belief. “Absolutely. Being on this wall is, like, equivalent to having a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I already know they’re gonna have a picture frame bigger than all the others because they’d want everyone to see your picture.”

Luci smiled, appreciating the sweet compliment as she reached across the glass table and held his hand. They chatted for a bit before one of the waitresses, who was also the owner, had taken their order. Kai, greeted Harry with a wide smile, glad that he was able to visit their restaurant. Harry introduced Luci to Kai, to which he earned a teasing expression from her; Kai practically knew almost every detail of Harry’s love life since the day he entered the restaurant, and Harry really didn’t mind—Kai provided him with some of her wiseful advice on relationships since she’d been in plenty of them in her time; but a piece of advice that really stuck to him was when she said ‘You’ll meet hundreds of people as you grow older, but you’ll know when you’ve met the right person. And if there’s anything that I’ve learned, it’s that when you have that person, don’t let them go because you’re going to regret it.’ Kai was speaking from personal terms, and she proceeded to tell Harry the story of when she met her husband, the co-owner of the restaurant, and how they went years without talking and loving, which were the most difficult years she’d ever went through.

And Harry carried that advice everywhere he went.

Kai brought out their food in a record-breaking time, saying that since Harry was her special customer, he got special treatment at the restaurant. The three joked around, laughing and teasing before Kai left their table, allowing them to eat. Luci excitedly told Harry everything about work—her cast members, famous actors and actresses along with producers that she’d met on set, and her upcoming schedule. She was glad to have someone to share this information with, aside from her family, and just the thought of telling Harry everything excited her.

“I’m pretty booked until the end of April…” she mentioned.

Harry looked down at his food before looking back up at her. He noticed a certain look that she carried, and it was a look of guilt. He placed his chopsticks on top of his bowl of rice before he grabbed her unoccupied hand, holding and caressing her skin.

“Talk to me,” he said softly. He didn’t want to assume what she was thinking; he’d rather hear her voice her thoughts.

“I feel bad, y’know. I mean, we just got together and we’re not even spending time with each other because it’s my fault-”

“Nothing is your fault,” he objected.

She looked at him sadly. “If you think about it, it kinda is. Harry, we’re spending our one month anniversary when we haven't seen each other in three weeks. What the actual fuck is that?”

“Well, I know you’re not going to quit the movie; plus, I wouldn’t let you.” He pauses for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, mouth turning into frown as if a realization had just hit him. “Unless this was a mistake-”

“No!” She shook her head, and Harry immediately felt bad because she looked like she was about to cry. “This will never be a mistake. One of the best choices I’ve ever made when I asked you out.” She reassured him. “It’s just…we’re supposed to be in the honeymoon stage, y’know? How could we do that when I’m always working and on the other side of the country?”

Harry understood, he really did; and he didn’t know the way to answer her question since he didn’t know the answer himself, but he tried his best and said, “Well, then that just means when you come back home, we’ll still live through and be in the honeymoon stage four or five months from now.” And that answer seemed to satisfy her as she smiled, looking down at her lap as her cheeks heated.

Drifting away from the serious topic, they enjoyed the rest of their lunch by talking and laughing.

“What’s your mom like?” Luci asked, wanting to everything about him.

Harry’s heart fluttered. “Her name’s Anne. She’s great—one of the kindest women I’ve ever known.” Luci smiled as she listened to him talk about his mother. “She’s done a lot for me and Gemma, and even though we’re older now, she would do everything and anything for us all over again. That’s just the kind of person she is—selfless, kind, and definitely knows how to crack a joke or two.” He smiled at the memory of when he was a child and how his high-pitched laugh would come out when Anne would joke around.

“Is that where you get your love for jokes?”

“Definitely. Can’t say I have better jokes than her or else we’ll have a joke battle.” Luci laughed; she loved listening to him talk about his family. His face lit up every time, and he had a smile that replicated his childhood photos.

They talked for an hour before the conversations were coming to an end as a comfortable silence was washed over them. Kai brought out custard tarts, which she knew were Harry’s favorite Chinese dessert, that was on the house. They thanked Kai for their wonderful food, service, and for the dessert before Luci paid, tipping extra.

Kai told Harry that he’d better not be hiding Luci because she really liked her, and hoped that he would bring her back soon. Harry promised, even Luci said that she would visit even when Harry wasn’t with her, which made Kai very happy.

Back at Harry’s apartment, they ended up cuddling on his couch and eating ice cream together before he turned his body towards Luci and asked, “Can we talk about this morning?”

Luci turned her head towards him, raising her brows. “You mean when we had sex?” She wondered, and he nodded. So, she put her finished bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of them before giving him her full attention.

“I just wanted to know what you thought of it. Feedback is very much appreciated.” He smirked.

“Are you saying that so I could feed your ego more than I already do?” Luci teased.

“Maybe…”

She chuckled. “I liked it a lot. Sex had never felt like that before,” she responded honestly. No matter how many times she had sex before Harry, how many partners she’d slept with, Harry was undeniably the best one; and she thinks it was because he was her boyfriend, but either way, there was this compelling connection between them that had their minds and bodies were on the same page.

“I agree. But I also wanted to ask if you were open to new ideas in the bedroom. I know that we’ve only had sex once, but I couldn’t help but notice-”

“That I like being choked?” She took his words right out of his mouth, putting a devious smile on her face as she said them. He nodded, a bashful smile on his face.

“I’m pretty open, yeah. I haven’t tried many things, but there’s a first time for everything. So, I’m up for experimenting and I’d want some of my first times to be with you,” she straightforwardly said. He loved how honest and open she was, and it was just a quality that was going to be added to the long list of why he adored her.

“I feel the same way.” He smiled.

“Can I just say, though…I loved it when you talked to me the way you did. It’s really sexy and it makes me feel sexy.”

Harry smirked. “Noted.”

For the rest of the night, they talked about things they’d want to try on each other. They had a growing list of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ on things to try in the bedroom, which ranged from being handcuffed, blindfolded, over-stimulating, and mutual masturbation. Luci was open to spitting and slapping if Harry was down to try it, and he told her that was up for trying anything with her, but he answered that he’d love to test out the waters on those two to see if they both liked it.

It was only going to grow from when they experiment and talk about it again. Their conversation had sparked up a sense of arousal in both of them that they were fretting in their seat and couldn’t keep still. Luci noticed him grow hard in his trousers, so she straddled his lap, and asked him to take her to bed, which he wasn’t going to say no to.

He watched as she rode him to oblivion, throwing her head back as her tits glistened with sweat despite the cold weather on the first of February. Harry then ate her out, burying his tongue in between her folds. At first, he denied her orgasm, telling her that he’d allow her to let go once he gave her permission to because he wasn’t quite finished with licking her up. Luci was whiny as she cried out into the room, gripping his curls the hardest her strength would allow her. And when he gave her permission, she came on his tongue, his face, and his chest, wetting the sheets below her; and Harry swore it was the filthiest but hottest thing he’d ever seen. Their breaths were heavy, making the room even warmer than it already was with all the tension and passion that swirled through the air.

After they regained their energy back, they went a few more rounds until they were absolutely exhausted. And they both knew they were going to be incredibly sore the next morning, maybe even the next few days; but they say that the best kind of sore is when you’re finished with a workout, so Harry and Luci both categorized their rounds as the best cardio.

April 27, 2018

Cheers and claps were spread all around as the director called out the final cut to the final scene of the film. It had been a long and tiring process, but a wave of proudness and relief was felt throughout the entire studio.

Luci felt relieved she was finished with this project while still feeling a bittersweet rush of emotions. This was her first ever major film that she was a part of, and she felt nothing short of proud of herself at how hard she worked to get to where she was. But the journey wasn’t over yet as she couldn’t wait to start her next one, and where that adventure would take her.

Harry was all she could think about. She couldn’t wait to finally go home to him for a while and not have to worry about anything. They only saw each other for one and a half days at the beginning of March when she was filming in New York before she had to fly back to California, but one and a half days were better than nothing.

She hugged the crew and cast as a big smile stayed on her face for the remainder of the time she was on set. Everyone took pictures with one another after the cast had changed out of their wardrobe and costumes while the production crew was cleaning everything up.

Thea and Samantha arrived on set once filming was over to congratulate Luci. They hugged and took a few pictures, which was now going to be a tradition after Luci was done with a project. After everyone had settled down, the adrenaline ceased a bit, Luci headed back to her trailer with Thea. Before she could enter, Thea pulled her to the side to introduce Luci to a journalist who was waiting for them by the side of her trailer.

“Hi, Luciana. My name is Audrey.” They shook hands as Luci politely introduced herself and greeted the interviewer.

“Audrey is just going to interview you, is that okay?” Thea asked, and Luci nodded, seeing as it was for harmless promo. She was a bit nervous because this interview was probably for an important media outlet, and it was her very first one too.

Throughout the months, Luci had gone through media training since Thea mentioned that it was necessary and inevitable since she was now in the spotlight, so public appearances and special interviews were required for her to go through that training. Her media coach told her the basics: to be herself—people love to see true and raw personality to a celebrity; have interesting stories to tell upon asking because people will ask, and be passionate because the media loves to pick up on nitty gritty details about one’s appearance and attitude, which will cause them to flip the switch completely.

The entire process had overwhelmed her a bit as later that night, she called Harry in tears as she explained the training to him as he tried to comfort her through the phone from across the country.

He assured her that everyone was going to love her because she had a loveable and approachable persona to her that it would be difficult to not love her; Harry had almost slipped his three words that were lingering on his tongue to further prove his point, but he stopped himself, not wanting to say them over the phone.

Thea let herself into the trailer, leaving the two to begin the interview.

“Okay, do you mind if I record you?” Audrey asked, looking down at her phone, making Luci trail her eyes down to the voice memos app where Audrey’s thumb hovered over the record button.

“No.” She shook her head, and Audrey pressed the red button.

“So, Luciana, I was informed this was your very first major film project. How do you feel about it?” Audrey questioned in a professional interviewer voice.

“I-I feel very honored to be working in this film with so many people that I’ve watched on the screen growing up. This film has such an amazing crew and cast that it felt like family; and I learned so many things from this entire journey, so I’m very appreciative and grateful to be part of this.” She may have rambled a bit, but it was a solid and genuine answer.

“Who are your inspirations that you look up to while being part of this business?”

Luci thought for a moment, gathering the actors and actresses that popped in her head. “To name a few: Meryl Streep, Sandra Bullock—I had the honor of working with here—and Cillian Murphy, to name a few. I’ve also really loved and was always inspired by Giulia Stone. I loved all of the movies she did in the seventies, and she’s just so iconic and a legend that I will always admire.”

Audrey then asked about her upbringing—where the new and potential star grew up, and her past job on Broadway.

“Broadway was also a dream of mine when growing up, and the atmosphere was insane. I loved every minute of it, and I left the building with so much adrenaline and energy every night because the audience was always so wonderful.”

They then talked about her role for Miss Saigon, and Luci was reminiscent of her part before she stepped into the world that was filled with well-known actors and a big industry. In a way, she missed the Broadway universe, and for the first month of shooting for the film, she considered quitting and going back to Broadway as she felt like she wasn’t fit enough to be part of the job, but she pushed herself through (with the help of Harry and her family). She believed everything happened for a reason, and perhaps her time on Broadway was limited to what she’d expected because the film industry was calling her name.

“Last question to wrap it up.” Audrey chuckled. “Do you have a lover? Anyone special out there that has your heart? These questions will be asked frequently, so might as well get used to them now.” The curiosity poured through the interviewer’s body, and portrayed in her exterior as her eyes bulged, lips curled in as her hand moved her phone closer to Luci, making sure to get her answer on record crystal clear with no chance to mumble or hide her answer. Luci didn’t like how she said the last sentence, like it was an obvious question to ask.

For some prideful and egotistical reason, Luci didn’t want to fill her satisfaction, to fill the media’s curiosity in hopes to feed people the latest gossip and the inaccurate news. Sure, Luci wasn’t a big name, people barely looked twice at the mention of her name, but something inside of her didn’t want everyone to know what her personal or love life looked like; frankly because it wasn’t any of their business.

Confidently, she subtly leaned her head a little closer to the speaker of Audrey’s phone before answering, “No, I don’t.”

Audrey pressed the red button again to stop recording, and Luci would later on know that she made a big mistake saying that.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles series #boyfriend!harry #teacher!harry #actress!oc

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ingeniouscollectionthing · 5 years

Text

My Lord (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, bath sex, dirty, spanking, a bit size kink, lord kink?, Tom Riddle can feel in this

The water was hot, steaming up into the prefects bathing chambers as petals of fragrant flowers floated around in the bath. Your fingers laced through your hair, detangling any knots that might have accumulated during the stressfull day.

Today had been especially annoying. While you had all your hands full with studying for your final exams, you also had to go after the duty of being headgirl, organizing things, patroling around school late at night and punishing students. While you loved carrying the power and authority over other students, you sometimes wished you were some unimportant Slytherin Girl, going about her day.

Sighing, you tipped your head back and rinsed out the conditioning oils in your hair, shaking them out in the waters, and you froze when the bath chamber doors opened. The steam in the room was extremely thick from the large bath, but through the steam, you could see the form of Tom Marvolo Riddle, your fellow comrade and headboy, your best friend. The Boy you were in love with.

Very well.

When he spied you, his eyes went a bit wide.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the bath was occupied.”

You were ducked into the water, only your nose and upper face revealed. You murmured softly.

“That’s okay. I admit that I’ve been in here far longer than i should.”

Tom’s eyes softened, rising up from the floor to meet yours.

“That bad of a day?”

You looked down, not daring to meet his beautiful eyes.

He spoke again: “Darling you know I’m here for you. Do you want to talk?”

You slowly shook your head, “No, I’d rather just forget about everything”

“Very well then”, he said, turning back to the door. “You know where to find me, if you wish to talk then”

“No wait! You don’t have to go! I mean, these….these chambers are yours too, are they not?” You blurted out, cheeks reddening intensly.

Tom looked back at you, surprised, before humming. Slowly he shed the pieces of his uniform, leaving him bare. You were quick to avert your gaze, sitting back against the wall of the big bath. The sound of the water being displaced and stepped in erupted, and your face burned lightly as Tom walked to a far part of the bath as if to try and create a bit more privacy, and as he began to wash himself, you couldn’t help but look at him.

You Always felt drawn to this handsome young man. To your Intelligent and cunning, protective best friend. the one who stole your heart - along with your soul. You watched as he washed himself, his pale, tall but very muscular body. You studied every part of it, from his intense and broad shoulders, to his strong arms down to his hips, where the water prevented you from seeing more.

You were thankful for him.

He always looked out for you, eventhough he tended to become very possessive. While he did everything out of his way, to make you happy, he also prevented other people from getting too close to you. He always said, that he doesn’t want you to get hurt, or bullied, ‘cause most students were jealous of you, your looks, your reputation and your achievments. He cared about you, he Always says. Way too much than he’d like to admit.

It was a miracle you became this close, really. While you were normally a rather outgoing, joyful person, he was the smart kid that always kept to himself and avoided social contacts. Until the day you were paired up to go on Prefect’s Patrol, where you started to talk and got to know each other. You both realized how much alike you really were. Despite never having met each other before, you also shared the same beliefs abot mudbloods and the value of pure magical blood. Ever since that day you were insaperable.

Tom’s hands cupped the bath water, bringing it up to his chest and rubbing the water into his skin. The soap that he was using was a sweet and almost citrus smell, reminding you of crème and oranges. Then he asked you,

“Do you often stare at those who come to bathe with you?”

You replied cheekily, though your ears burned heavily afterwards.

“Only the very handsome ones.”

Tom turned his head to look at you, his eyes intense, and he asked you, his voice sounding a bit deeper.

“You say that as if you’ve bathed with males before.” Now his possessive side came out. You were his, His only.

“No, you’d be the first.”

Tom’s eyes went darker, a smirk making it’s way onto his face and you turned your eyes away, closing them as you sat deeper in the water, your lips concealed in the water. The smell of his soap wafted into your nostrils, and water splashed, indicating that he was washing the soap from his chest. Your eyes dared to trail back to him, and you blushed when he was already staring at you. His gaze was haughty, almost proud, as he stood before you, and he dared to speak again.

“I do not believe our relationship allows us to bathe together, although i have to say, i don’t mind it at all”

You replied softly, admitting.

“Not yet, no. But considering that I’m your most loyal follower and that I would give my life for you, my Lord, I think we already overstepped that border.”

You maintained eye contact as you spot a light flicker in his, a full smile now apparent on his face. Then you stared at the water and Tom asked you again, sounding closer and voice even deeper.

“You would give your life for me so readily? What of your family or your friends?”

You shook your head.

“I would give my life for you in a heartbeat, my lord. My loyalty to you does not stop where my life will end. The only thing in my dreadful life, full of mudbloods and muggles, that is dear to me-” you sucked in a deep breath, before Closing your eyes “- is you”.

Your eyes opened to see Tom a lot closer to you than before, and your face burned. Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly, and he seemed to smile at the small gesture of shyness

“Gaze upon your lord, my beautfiul dark queen.”

You could hear the command in his tone, and rather than disobey, you slowly looked up from the water to gaze upon him. Your eyes traveled from his navel, his abdominal muscles prominent as the vallies and grooves smoothed and deepened with each breath.

Your eyes trailed over his skin as water droplets fell and then trailed to his neck where it seemed flushed. When you gazed into his eyes, they were the darkest you had ever seen them.

Beautiful black blown pupils silently conveyed the need he was feeling for you.

Tom’s eyes grew soft as you stared at him, telling you with a pleading tone.

“Allow me to gaze upon you, my queen...”

You swallowed thickly before slowly standing before him, your arms crossed across your chest, and he came closer to you. His nose brushed against yours, his fingers running up your arms, and he whispered to you,

“Do not be shy, my lady…you will never shame me.”

Slowly, he guided your hands away from your chest. His lips pressed against yours slowly, as if he was savouring your taste, and Tom’s fingers trailed up your arms to cup your face. Tingles ran down your spine, and your hands came up to tangle in Tom’s thick black locks, making him groan as he kissed you. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, and your lips parted lightly. His thick tongue slipped into your mouth, brushing against your pink muscle and dominating your mouth.

His hands ran down your neck to your upper arms before sliding to the sides of your torso. His thumbs brushed against your hardening nipples, and you let out a shaky breath. His lips trailed down your neck, kissing your skin and sucking lightly. His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing lightly, and you sighed, your head falling back. Then Tom ducked down a bit, kissing the skin of your chest, and his teeth caught your flesh, nipping lightly and making you gasp softly.

His hands moved, coming around your body and moving down to your ass. Taking handfuls of each ass cheek, he squeezed strongly, bringing you closer to him. His hard cock brushed against your leg, and your eyes went wide lightly. Your hands came to his shoulders, gripping the hard muscle and skin, and Tom growled in your ear,

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…how long I have waited for you to be in my arms like this.”

Suddenly Tom lifted you into his strong arms, pressing you against the wall of the bath, and his cock rubbed between your warm folds, making you whimper lightly. His hips rolled against yours, rubbing his cock onto your clit over and over.

“How long I have waited to feel you like this...”

Slowly, his cock began to enter you, and you whimpered from the sheer size. You knew that he was quite big and that he was much stronger than his uniform let you see. He was a strong young man, not only physically. No. Also his magical power towered over everything there ever was.

He felt so much girthier than you had ever imagined in your dreams. He seemed to be around eight or nine inches, fat and healthy.

Tom hadn’t even gotten the head of his cock inside of you, and yet you already felt incredibly stretched. You winced, and he kissed your brow, whispering softly.

“Relax, my queen…we will take this slow.”

You nodded, and Tom slowly pushed his cock into you, pausing every so often to allow you to get used to the size of him. Finally, he was able to get all the way inside you. Merlin, you were so incredibly tight around him. In fact, Tom was sure that if he wasn’t careful enough, he would break you.

Such a beautiful, fragile little girl. All mine. To use, To cherish. To love, he thought.

Your mouth was agape, your fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, and Tom was gripping your waist tightly. He was breathing deeply, taking deep and calming breaths so he wouldn't just start ravishing you, and then he asked softly.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, and Tom slowly began to move. Every thrust had you breathless and while it hurt for a moment, it began to feel absolutely heavenly the more he thrusted. He filled every single crevice, every single nook and cranny inside of you. You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing as he tried to hold back for you, and your legs wrapped around his waist, hooking at the ankles and your hands tangled in his hair.

“My lord,”

You whimpered to him as he slowly thrust into you, and Tom let out a rumble from deep within his chest. You whispered softly to him, pleading as you felt his cock go in and out of you so deliciously.

“Please do not hold back on me, my lord. I may be a simple little witch, but I can take you.”

There was a challenge in your voice that did not go unheard and Tom shook his head in restraint, growling deeply.

“I will not hurt you, my lady. I cannot hurt my Queen.”

You whispered against his lips, your tongue dipping out to swipe over them.

“What if I want you to, my dark lord? What if I want you take me as I am…claim me as yours for all to see…take me, Tom.”

Tom’s hands gripped your waist tightly, and he growled to you, giving you an experimental rough thrust that made you see stars.

“You are walking on a dangerous path my (Y/n)”, he grunted.

“I’d do anything for you, my Lord”

Your lips came to his, claiming them for your own, and Tom growled deeply into your lips before thrusting his hips deeper into your own. You cried out from the unexpected feeling of him fucking you so deliciously, gripping Tom’s broad shoulders as he began to roughly fuck you. His skin was hot, one of his hands coming up to grasp the back of your head and hold you to his warm body. His cock was pounding into you, stretching and stretching you, and you swore his cock was pounding into your Cervix.

Tom was groaning, grunting, and growling as he fucked you, and your teeth dug into the skin of his shoulder. He gasped before his hand came down and through the water, spanking your ass. You gave a cry though you didn’t let go of his skin.

Suddenly Tom moved you up and onto the steps of the bath chamber, lying you down. He slipped out of you, and you whimpered from the empty feeling. Then he flipped you on your belly, his mouth almost unhinging from the sight of your throbbing wet pussy. Wet, pulsating, almost gaping, it was delicious. Tom slowly slipped back into you with slight resistance, but in no time he was back to fucking you. Unrestrained, Tom fucked you with a hard roughness, smacking his hips into yours and spanking your ass every few thrusts.

“How does it feel to be properly taken and marked by your lord?”,

Tom growled to you, keeping your hips on the tile floor beneath you by pinning you down by the small of your back, his other hand rubbing the red flesh of your ass cheek before spanking you again. Your hands were pressed flat against the floor, your cheek pressed into the tile and you were moaning at each thrust, each move of his hips. You whimpered out, eyes squeezing shut and your fists clenching.

“So good…so good, my lord!”

Tom growled deeply, leaning down and biting the flesh of your shoulder blade. You whimpered again, and he hissed into your ear.

“That’s right. You’re mine…nobody else will have you the way I do. They will not touch you, breathe in your smell, or look at you…my most precious queen.”

You cried out, your walls beginning to tremble around him, and Tom moaned deeply. His thrusts began to falter, and your walls clamped down around him, your pleasured cries echoing through the bathing chamber, as you came. You squirted all over him. He mumbled your name, and he came deep inside of you, his warm fertile seed filling your belly. You felt so incredibly full as Tom emptied himself inside of you, your body twitching, and his forehead came to rest between your shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded tiredly, mumbling softly in exhaustion.

“Yes, my lord…a little tired, if I may be honest.”

Tom chuckled lightly, a little exhausted himself. Slipping out of you, his cum spilled from your spent pussy, and Tom swallowed thickly. Gently, he pulled you up into his arms, leading you back into the hot water to clean you up before he picked you up.

Grabbing a soft towel, Tom wrapped you up, and you grunted lightly,

“Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday. I don’t think I’d be able to move and walk aynwhere”, you remarked cheekily, your face lighting up in a bright pink hue.

Tom grinned to himself and replied,

“Don’t worry my queen. We’ll spend the weekend in my private Chambers, only the two of us.”

There was a suggestion in his voice that you did not miss, and you hummed.

“Then I suppose we should put a silencing spell on your room, my lord.”

Slowly you both got dressed, while sharing sweet kisses and words. Before you could put your top back on, Tom already came over with his school Sweater, dressed in his white button up.

“Arms up, beautiful”, he said and you did as you were told, before you were enfulged in the warmth and smell of his sweater. He lightly grabbed your face in both his hands, kissing you slowly and passionately. Then Tom looked at you saying,

“You know, now our relationship allows things like that more often my queen.”

You looked up at him, lying your hand over his, still on your cheek.

“Yes it does”.

You giggled as Tom picked you up bridal style.

He laughed with you before both of you went to his private headboy chambers, where he set you on his bed, wrapping his blankets around you after undressing and kissing you deeply. You hummed against him and whispered.

“Come into bed with me, my lord…let your queen sleep within your arms.”

Tom’s heart swelled and he climbed into the bed, gathering you up within his strong arms. The last Thing you heard before slipping into the world of dreams,

“I love you, (Y/N)”

My queen.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle smut #tom riddle lemon #young voldemort x reader #x reader #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter imagine #smut #fluff #tom riddle fluff

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years

Text

for tonight you’re only here to know / part three

(artwork used with permission from carpedzem) part one | part two | part three AO3

A/N: no beta on this one. we die like real small creatures from alpha centauri.

Sometimes on the rarest nights Comes the vision calm and clear Gleaming with unearthly lights On our path of doubt and fear Winds from that far land are blown Whispering with secret breath Hope that plays a tune alone Love that conquers pain and death

We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been I can never be your king, nor you can be my queen Days may pass and years may pass and seas may lie between We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been

Ivor Novello

There is applause and it is thunderous as it echoes off the rafters and the walls and sneaks into the crevices between the bookshelves where every manner of humanity is squeezed in, side-by-side; he feels as if he can hear them all breathing, or trying to, hung on his every word even as he is reliving it. Every second.

There is a voice next to him, poking at the edges of his consciousness, and he remembers.

Who he is.

Where he is.

Here, and now.

He shifts in his chair and glances with only the barest hesitation at the device on the table in front of him that records his voice and transmits it even farther, to those who are not physically present. He directs his question at the woman seated next to him, pert eyes and short hair and a beaming smile.

“Apologies, love,” he says. “Can you repeat that last bit?”

“How does it end? Do the princess and the pirate--?”

“Oh, aye. They get their happily-ever-after. It’s a thrilling tale, to be sure.” He suits his tone to match his words but the truth, of course, was rather more gruesome. He shuts his eyes, an attempt to stave off the flood of memories that threatens to overtake him, replacing the brightness of the bookshop’s event stage with the bleakness and the blackness of the dungeon and how it felt to fall, to catch his breath--his breath, he was breathing. His view of her was magnificent, her hand outstretched in defiance, the purple glow of the squid ink he’d given her--pressed into her hand in a moment of desperation and trust and love--enveloping the Evil Queen and binding her, immobilizing her on the spot. Emma twirled--dancing--spun on sure feet the three steps between herself and the Queen and caught his heart in her hands before it hit the stone floor.

“Killian!” It was a scream and sometimes he hears it, still, in his nightmares.

He coughs, swallowing bile.

There is--as if by magic--a bottle of water being pushed at him and he braces it against his left wrist, bringing into view the black glove he wears on his left hand as he twists off the cap and sips greedily, wishing it was possible to wash away the taste of a memory. The Dark One’s laughter as he smiled, as his teeth glittered and he straightened, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket and blowing gently across the page as the words disappeared and re-formed in the air and settled on the bars, causing them to vanish. As if the bars were nothing more than an illusion, a trick, a plan. The creature lifted a single finger--in warning, in disappointment--pointed it at the Queen as he spoke. “You should have come to me for help when the Curse failed,” he whispered. It was conversational and chilling and the Queen her mouth to speak but said nothing, moved not a single muscle as she was bundled into the Dark One’s cell and the bars replaced, as solid as they ever had been. “You should have listened when I taught you the proper casting of it. And what have you to show for it, Your Majesty, after all of these years? Nothing.” The creature sighed. “Whereas I have a deal to conclude with this lovely young woman. Emma.”

The way he said the name was a caress and it was Emma’s turn to shiver, blinking as her palm turned up--the hand not holding Hook’s heart--and her knife pointed at the Dark One.

“Put that away, dearie,” the creature said. “I have other weapons I prefer. And you have something I need. And as soon as we are done--”

The plastic crinkles in the tightening grip of his fingers; sometimes the sound it makes still surprises him, soft and loud at the same time.

The water spills and the woman jumps.

“I’m quite all right,” he assures her, and she does not know enough to know he is lying.

She giggles, gives a grin that flashes the whitest and most perfect set of teeth he’s ever seen.

“So the princess, does she give Hook his heart back?”

He pulls at the chains around his neck as if it is a reflex, and maybe it is--maybe every time he feels the weight on it he thinks of nothing but her fingers and the way she smiled when she tangled her hand in the chains and pulled him upright, golden hair and glittering eyes as she smiled at him, the rush of success and victory coursing through her though he could not feel it.

“That would be telling,” he says, raising a single eyebrow and plastering on another smile as a wave of laughter rumbles through the audience.

(Her sad smile and the nervous way she said, “I’ve never done this before.”)

(“Held my heart in your hands?” Hook’s hand on her wrist, the warmth and the energy there. (“You’ve had it for longer than you realize, love. It is--and always will be--yours.”)

“We’ll just have to read and find out,” she laughs, gesturing at the bound book stood up for display on the flimsy table.

The Land of Might-Have-Been.

By Killian Jones.

“So, Killian.” Her eyes flutter. “Tell us more about your main character. Hook. Where did you get your inspiration?”

He smiles, his hand rubs at the back of his neck before he leans forward, anchoring his elbow on the table and settling his hand under his chin. “In some ways I think of him as the man I used to be,” he says. “The man I would have been, if I had not found my way to a change.”

He put his life on the line for two things: Love and revenge.

Captain Hook had been forged in the fires of the former.

Killian Jones had been set free by another kind of flame.

“I had a brother once. And a first love.” He rubs unconsciously at his right wrist, though the thick fabric of his shirt more than covers the tattoo there--more than covers all of them, the details of his life inked into his arm like a sleeve, that told the story as easily as the book did and in fewer words. “I was hurting, and chasing after anything that might help me to overcome that pain, to regain control.” The octopus curling around his shoulder and down the side of his torso; the roped sailor’s knots; the tangled thorns of the vines digging into his bicep, dripping black venom. “I realized that I could be a better man. That I wanted to be, and what I needed was to try something new.”

The Dark One’s voice was silk and oil, smooth and greasy. “--as soon as we are done, Regina, you are going to give me Belle. You are going to tell me what you’ve done with her. I will flay you while you speak, perhaps, or--”

“Rumplestiltskin.” It was the first time Hook had spoken the man’s name in decades.

Names had Power.

Such as the power of distraction; Hook struck as the creature turned, blocking Emma’s whitening face from his view as he stepped in between them and grasped the creature’s wrist with his hook, wrapping his hand around the other. Wrapping his hand and the object he concealed there--for while Hook may have been fatally unprepared for his first encounter with the Dark One, he’d vowed never to be without recourse again.

The creature screamed as the cuff closed around his wrist and Hook said, “Surely you did not think I only traveled to Neverland in my quest for your demise? Cora sends her regards, crocodile.”

The Queen’s gasp was audible--as well it might be, for she had banished her mother to Wonderland almost thirty years ago--and Emma’s face was blank, a cipher, as the creature whirled back to face her, clutching his wrist as if his hand had been sliced off, and pleaded. “Missy. Missy…”

Hook stepped in between them, blocking the princess from the Dark One’s sight. “You want to make a deal, Dark One? Then you’re going to deal with me. That cuff will block your ability to access your magic unless or until I decide to remove it, and not a minute sooner.” He turned to Emma. “Promise me, Swan, that you will see to it that Ariel truly got away safely, back to her prince and to her home. And perhaps you can do for Graham what you have done for me.”

“Killian.” Power. Magic. Fire. “What are you going to do?”

Lunacy.

The room around him is fully silent and even the interviewer is holding her breath when Killian says, “I thought about what it would be like for him--for Hook--if he had a chance to be a part of something. Because I know a little something about that, about not being able to forget your first love, to believe that you can’t move on. But all it took was meeting the right person--”

And on his left shoulder blade, just above his heart, a swan.

“It’s like he said. The Curse failed, love,” Hook said. “None of this was meant to happen--none of this is what he foresaw, or what she planned. Isn’t that right, crocodile?”

The Evil Queen moved as if to strike, as if she had--or would ever have again--that freedom of movement, but the Dark One merely smiled.

“It wasn’t just your parents that were meant to be swept away by the Queen’s curse,” Hook said. “It was all of us. This entire realm sent someplace else, into a Land Without Magic. That’s where Baelfire went when he left his father.” Hook paused before continuing. “When he left me. He believed it was the only place he would be safe.”

“What’s your point, pirate?” The Dark One snapped.

“My point is that all magic comes with a price. My point is that when the spell failed, something went wrong. And now is your chance, crocodile--to tell us. The truth. And in return--” he held up his hand, pointed it at the Dark One in attempt to forestall the protest that was surely imminent “--I will tell you where the maid is, your precious Belle. Where Regina has kept her all of these years. Perhaps I will even remove that cuff and allow you to do something about it.”

It took all of his strength not to mention the other thing, the object that consumed his days and his nights and his nightmares for the better part of three decades. The object that could kill the Dark One--his crocodile, Milah’s murderer. But Hook had made his choice.

He just wished he could feel it--feel her--the fire--the magic--because now he had a name for it, the way he felt about her--all of the things she made him feel and want and believe.

“Tell us, and I will use the portal to bring back the King and the Queen; I will leave, so long as you leave Emma out of this. Emma and her family will be free of you and all of your schemes, hereafter.”

The creature cocked his head and tasted the air with his tongue, considering, until--

“No.” Emma was definitive.

The creature giggled as Emma moved, deliberately switching places with Hook to place herself between him and the crocodile, so she could force him to look at her and her green eyes. “I don’t need saving,” she said.

Hook smiled and said, “That’s good. Because I’m not a hero.”

“I can handle it. I’m not a damsel in distress.” She was lying; there was distress written all over her face, but this--this was something he could do for her, something he wanted to do. Something with purpose, with meaning, something new.

“Emma, think of yourself. Of your family. Of your kingdom. You can’t leave--and even if you could--there would be nothing left for me here. Not even the pursuit of my revenge. I cannot be that man any more. Darkness and hatred have left my life empty.” He cupped his hand over her cheek and stroked the tear forming there, brushing it aside. “I do not want to end up like Regina. Please.”

It was then and not a moment sooner that the world he’d so carefully constructed over the long years shattered, finally--completely--to pieces. As he stepped forward and pulled her against him, a drowning man grasping for a rope. As he pressed his lips to hers and she kissed him as if he were dying and she alone had oxygen.

“So, one last question, then, Killian. We’ll take it from the audience this time.”

In the crowd, someone rises--there is a flash of blonde and blue and Killian cannot--he cannot--

The woman’s eyes sparkle with amusement as she speaks. “Killian,” she says, “do you believe in True Love?”

Killian smiles. He forces himself to. He exhales a laugh.

He exhales a laugh to cover up the fact that all of his breath seems, suddenly, to leave his body.

Again.

On account of a kiss.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, slow degrees of feeling welling up inside him, coming from someplace deep and unfamiliar except for the heat and the magic that seemed to guide it; he had no defense for it, no protection against it, and it built into a wave so powerful that to feel it crest over him, exploding in sparkes of rainbow light, was nothing so much as a relief. He staggered back under its impact and braced himself against the bars of Regina’s cell and watched as a door formed before his--before their--eyes. His heart, so recently returned to him, pounding so hard that everything around him seemed to vibrate--his mind a thick haze of fire and light and magic. The torches in the dungeon ablaze and every kiss before this one merely a prelude, flint to light the kindling.

The door was three times the height of a man, taller than the dungeon as it seemed to pierce the ceiling. When it opened there was a lonely stretch of forest bisected by a strangely-paved path and a sign.

“Welcome to Storybrooke.”

At the sign--or more properly at the edge of it, just where it met the road--was a vessel unlike any Hook had ever seen before, heaving and steaming as a man kicked at it, swearing under his breath as if his invective would serve as fuel.

“Father,” Emma whispered.

And--from inside the vessel--a woman’s voice; “Mother.” There was the sound of something opening and closing as a piece of the thing swung open--a door--and a boy slid out.

No. Not a boy.

A young man.

The Evil Queen growled.

The Dark One hissed.

And Emma said, “Oh. Oh, shit.”

The lights are dim and the crowd dispersed as he leaves, waving a hand behind him and walking away from the storefront branded Housing Works Bookstore. It’s dry--a rarity in this city, he has found--dry and cool and clear, and if he angles his head just so between the so-called ‘skyscrapers’ there is a faint glimmer of the stars that are very nearly the same here as they were there. He still remembers them, the way they shone in her eyes as the truth of what they were watching through the portal struck her.

“I have a brother,” she said, and her voice seemed to carry across the portal, across time and space, because a petite, dark-haired woman nearly fell out of the vessel as she looked up, looked around.

“Emma?”

It was a sound of disbelief and doubt and hope but it, too, carried; the man straightened, the vessel forgotten as he started walking unerringly toward the portal that surely he could not see.

Emma swore again and turned to her grandmother, to the Evil Queen, and said, “They remember?” Out of all the possible questions, of course she chose the least expected. How--why--what--none of them was as salient as the simple fact. They remembered.

The Queen raised in eyebrow in pure hauteur and Emma grabbed his hook and pulled him toward the door. “I must go to them,” she said, and he followed.

He would follow her to the end of the world and beyond; with a cry and a lunge she hurled herself at them, at her parents, at her brother.

Hook watched as Queen Snow took her daughter’s head in her hands and kissed the forehead, delicately--as King David pulled his daughter into his arms and cupped the back of her head, gently--as Leo introduced himself.

“Please don’t call me Leopold,” he said, and Emma laughed through her tears.

“This is Killian,” she said. “Captain Killian Jones.”

David’s eyes narrowed as he took in the silver prosthetic where Hook’s left hand used to be. “Captain Hook?”

But Snow said, “Now is not the time, David,” and her green eyes shone almost as brightly as her daughter’s as she looked at him, up and down from his boots to his eyes that were lowered, respectfully--as she stepped forward and took his face in her hands the same way she had taken Emma’s. “Thank you,” she said.

Hook blushed. “I--milady--gratitude is hardly necessary,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly and, for the first time in a long time, uncertain. He was uncertain and his hand reached, unthinkingly, for Emma’s, for the warmth and the comfort he found there.

“You found us,” Snow insisted.

“Emma found you,” Hook said.

“And I never doubted she would,” Snow said. “But I know what you did for her, why she is able to be here right now.”

“What--” Hook swallowed. “What did I do?”

Queen Snow looked at him, and looked at her daughter, at their hands clasped together and said, “True Love’s Kiss. It’s the only magic strong enough to break any curse.”

“Oh,” Hook said. Oh.

He dropped Emma’s hand and stepped back.

The King grumbled. “Let’s discuss this at home. We have a kingdom to take back.” Then, under his breath: “Again.”

The word hung in the air. Home.

Hook took another step back--turned away--opened his mouth--all he knew, with certainty, was that he could not go back there. He could not go back to that place and that person who carried around all of that darkness and anger and hate. He wanted to stay. He was a pirate, a Lost Boy; it would not be the first time in his life that he found himself in a new place with nothing but his wits and his hook and the things he carried.

But Swan--

Emma.

Princess Emma.

She--

He would follow her. Of course he would. He could just as soon live without air as he could live without her.

(He’s known that since the first morning he’d woken up to find her gone; he’s known that every night he’s dreamed of her and every morning since.)

“Oh,” Snow said. “Oh.” Mother and daughter watched each other, identical eyes matched in understanding. “Emma’s not coming home,” Snow said.

It is very nearly midnight when Killian returns home, unlocking his front door with practiced ease and slipping the keys into the pocket of his leather blazer.

What he is not prepared for, or expecting, is her.

Waiting for him.

(Truth be known, he might never be.)

Emma Swan, his True Love, is waiting for him, her green eyes twinkling in the streetlights that are shining through the windows of their flat and still--always--nothing prepares him for the sight of her. Her golden hair is lighter now, streaked with very fine strands of silver; the blue leather of her jacket is bright and adorned with zippers instead of gemstones. She wears no jewelry, in this place--they sold most of it a long time ago. Her only adornment is a silver chain around her neck and the ring he gave her--his brother’s ring--between her breasts.

“You beat me home,” he says.

“You had your adoring fans to contend with,” she says, and laughs. Killian shuts the door behind him and inhales, slowly, savoring it the way he always does--sweet and spicy--and she watches him.

“Your eyes,” she says. “I love the way you look at me. Still.”

“Always.”

And it’s not a dream, but sometimes it still feels like one, when she grabs him and says his name and--somehow--he can feel the Power in it. She grabs him and he forgets where they are and when they are and he remembers the day she decided to stay here. With him.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she said, looking at her mother and her father and her younger brother, the heir-presumptive once the King and the Queen were back on their rightful thrones. Killian had no doubts that they would see to Regina, and to the Dark One. Snow would give Graham back his heart and make certain that Belle was safe and cared for.

For the moment, there were more important matters to attend to.

Snow White ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. Her voice was somehow strong and brittle at the same time--understanding twinged with sadness. “No,” she murmured. “You didn’t.”

Emma didn’t cry when she said, “I want something free of all of this. Free of the past and all its scars. Something I’ve chosen. Away from--”

“Us,” King David--the man once known across realms as Prince Charming--said.

“No,” Emma said. “But--yes. I’m sorry.”

That’s when David took her in his arms. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to us. Not ever. We love you. All that matters is that you know that, and are happy.”

And they were.

They are.

Together; they still make a good team.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she whispers. “Do you believe in True Love, Killian?” She stands on her toes and kisses him and it’s full of sweetness and love and he can feel it--the warmth and comfort and the magic that they were both told couldn’t exist in this place but which they kindled with the light they made for each other. The past, here, is nothing more than a bad dream from which he’s awakened, finding himself in her arms until the nightmares are banished and there is nothing but the two of them.

Killian lifts his mouth from hers and takes her hands and kisses them, the backs, each knuckle, before he settles them over his heart. It beats, hard but steady--so steady--as he holds her hands there. “Aye, love,” he says. “You are my happy ending.”

She pulls her hands away, pulls his hands in hers as she says, “That’s not what this is.” He feels it through the layers of her clothing as his hand rests over her abdomen--the flutter there--and he laughs, as she smiles a real smile, that same smile, from the night they met. “It’s a happy beginning.”

And that, surely, is nothing short of magic.

-30-

@profdanglaisstuff @katie-dub @thisonesatellite @carpedzem @captain-emmajones @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @karl0ta @mariakov81 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @scientificapricot

#cs fic #enchanted forest #true love and other stuff

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

the trim, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: As usual, Kim Seokjin can’t wait for a hairstylist to cut his hair. But instead of cutting it himself with kitchen scissors over the sink, he convinces you to do it.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, vanilla); idol!BTS; established relationship; Seokjin is ridiculous and so am I, sorry not sorry

“Don’t ruin it!”

“Seokjin, why even ask me then?”

“Because I want you to do it.”

You were crouched over your boyfriend with a pair of hair cutting scissors and a comb.

“Just ask your hairstylist!”

“But you’re the love of my life,” he whined, wiggling around in the chair. “Come on.”

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” you muttered as you combed his bangs for the hundredth time. Had you ever cut hair before? No. Had Kim Seokjin somehow convinced you it would be a great idea to trim his bangs? Unfortunately, yes. They weren’t that long but they covered his eyes and he was annoyed by them so clearly you had to rectify the situation.

“What if it looks terrible?” you winced.

“It can’t look terrible. I’m World Wide Handsome.”

Oh, my God. You gave him a look, the look that you always gave him when he said something like that, but he laughed like it always did, giving you a thumbs up. It made you look up into the mirror and stare at your own reflection as if you were in a sitcom.

Shaking your head, you used the comb to lift the hair from his face. He stared up at you, making you nervous.

“Close your eyes,” you scolded.

“I want to see,” he pouted.

“I don’t want to make you blind with your own hair. Close your eyes.”

He frowned, but obeyed. You had watched YouTube videos for this, which was clearly enough training for you to embark on this journey. You hesitantly made the first cut. He screamed.

“I swear, Seokjin, stop it!”

If you weren’t used to his antics, you probably would have chopped off a whole chunk. He was laughing at you, but you ignored him, point cutting to fix the bluntness of your mistake. You kept going, snipping delicately, focused on your task. It wasn’t as hard as you thought. Seokjin had thick hair, but it was also over-processed even though it was dyed black. It made things a little easier, as his hair needed the trim.

“I can see down your shirt.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you said absentmindedly.

“Take it off so I have something to look at.”

You stopped for a moment, giving him that look again. He giggled.

“You look so funny.”

You combed through his bangs to get the loose hairs off. “Better?”

He turned his head to look in the mirror, mussing with the front of his neatly-combed hair. He stood up and shook his white t-shirt, checking himself out. For a second, you wondered if he was actually looking at his hair or his own face.

“Thank you,” he finally said, grinning. “Now you can see my sparkling eyes.”

You wanted to facepalm and your expression reflected it. Seokjin clapped and laughed, knowing you were doing it sarcastically. You didn’t actually think it was lame. Couldn’t egg him on too much though; Seokjin could praise himself for hours and sometimes you just wanted to eat dinner.

You swept the fallen hair with a broom as Seokjin poked your side.

“Okay, what do you want?” he said cheerfully, looping his arms around your waist as you struggled to gather the hair on the floor.

You made the awkward waddle to the trashcan to toss the hair. “I don’t need anything, Seokjin. Thank you is enough.”

He picked you up, broom and all, and spun you around. You groaned exaggeratedly, pretending to wobble as he put you down. He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. The broom clattered to the floor, but you both ignored it.

“I’m ancient,” you complained. “Don’t do that.”

“Hey!” He gently headbutted you. “There’s no way you’re ancient if I’m still young.”

You laughed, softly headbutting him back. “Weren’t you the one complaining to Big Hit that you were getting old and there was too much dancing?” you teased.

“They’re really difficult!” he whined.

“Yeah, yeah, but you always look perfect, so that means you can do it, right?” You nudged him, making his ears red.

“Ah, well, of course,” he stuttered. “I am BTS Jin after all.” He placed his hands on his hips and grinned proudly.

You looked up at him with a smile, not teasing this time. Maybe he drove you crazy but you loved him more than anything else in the world. It was always fun to be around him. He was ridiculous and never boring, always keeping you on your toes. You wanted him to keep smiling and always tried to make him happy when he was down.

He placed his chin between his index and thumb, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “What are you thinking about? Falling more in love with me?”

You laughed and shoved him lightly. He pulled you along, bumping you into his chest, showering you with light kisses. You smiled against his lips, kissing him a little harder. He stiffened, surprised. Seokjin could be overtly flirty, but when it came to the first move, well…

That might have been your instigation.

He looked at you curiously and you kissed him again. He had full, plush lips that were fun to kiss, and he always seemed stunned that you wanted to kiss him. You broke apart, looking up at him lovingly.

“Hey, Seokjin,” you murmured.

His eyes went round with curiosity. “Hm?”

“I kind of… maybe… really love you,” you dragged out, tongue cheekily between your teeth. You were making fun of his confession, way back then.

He puffed his cheeks at you. “Hey! That’s not nice!”

“I know,” you chuckled. The response you gave when he confessed, in true Han Solo fashion. You two were having a Star Wars marathon, after all.

“Yah, you’re so annoying!” he whined, tugging on your sleeves as he dragged you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. You tackled him, laughing, making him stumble onto the bed as you ferociously nuzzled him. You kissed him, cupping his face with your hands, pinkies rubbing his red ears. Despite saying you were annoying, he kissed you back, smiling against your lips. You broke the kiss, kissing his cheeks and ears, nipping at his earlobe playfully.

“Maybe I’ll show you what’s under my shirt after all,” you purred, pressing your body on top of his.

He groaned, his hands sliding up your sides. You liked being on top of him, but it was preventing you from removing his shirt, so you sat up and yanked your t-shirt over your head. You tugged at his and he wiggled out of it, tossing it aside. Both of you were only wearing underwear underneath.

You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and slid your hips down, stopping at his growing erection.

“O-oh?” You grinned. “Just from kissing?”

The red was slowly beginning to creep to his cheeks. “You’re b-basically naked too!”

You tilted your head as if you were thinking. “You’re right.” Tucking your tongue between your lips, you reached back and undid your bra. It slid off your shoulders and you tossed It aside, bouncing your chest on purpose.

He moaned, seeing your nipples bounce in the air. Seokjin might be good at body rolls, but there was nothing he enjoyed more when you did it with your bra off. You grinned and cupped your breasts with your hands, bouncing them more vigorously.

“Okay, that’s it,” he declared, grabbing you by the shoulders and flipping the two of you around, pressing you onto the bed. He was bigger than you, but it was comforting to look at him. Not to mention fun to see the slight desperation in his eyes.

He leaned down to kiss you before moving down your jaw and neck, running his hot tongue against your cool skin. You shivered, feeling his breathing, the light nip against your collarbone. Down the crevice of your breasts before stopping and licking up your sternum, blowing softly on the wet skin.

“Seokjin…”

He was deliberate and calm, driving you crazy. Slow, languid lick to your nipple before taking it in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. There was a little nervousness as he reaches up to slowly rub your other nipple. It was a sweet and innocent movement, and secretly it turned you on. You ran your hands through his hair, pressing into his mouth, whimpering softly to encourage him. He licked more roughly and you purred, sliding your other hand down his side and running your nails across his skin.

He released you, breathing your name softly before lapping at your other nipple, playing with the tip as he looked up at you with his round brown eyes.

“Hm?”

He rested his chin on your stomach. “Can I be inside you now?” he pouted. “I’m horny.’

You laughed, nodding. That was your cue to reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table, only to turn back to his underwear suddenly vanishing. Your mouth turned into a small ‘o’, impressed.

“A good magic trick, Kim Seokjin. Can I hire you for my birthday party?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you’re going to be naked at your birthday party, of course.”

You removed your panties, amused. “It would have to be a private birthday party then.”

He put the condom on and then grabbed your thighs, sighing at the fullness of them. He always enjoyed your thighs and how juicy they felt in his hands. “Only the best for my love,” he whispered affectionately, positioning himself at your entrance.

“Oh? Missionary?” you quipped, raising your legs.

His ears reddened. “I like watching your breasts bounce,” he said, flustered. You also knew he liked your legs pressed against his torso. He liked to feel them against him as he fucked you.

He entered you slowly, for you and for him, both of you moaning as he filled you up. Your eyelids fluttered closed, feeling him adjust to touch your sensitive spot. He began to move and you squeezed him, making him gasp.

“Stop that,” he panted, thrusting slowly.

“Don’t want to,” you replied, rolling your hips up to meet his.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me,” Seokjin whined. “You’re so tight.”

You placed your arms above your head so he could see your breasts bounce with each thrust. “I have to practice for the love of my life.”

His eyes fixated on your chest, shuddering. “Or you could not drive me crazy for once.” Without meaning to, he began to increase his pace, thrusting harder and faster.

You gasped, so focused on his movements that you didn’t reply. He hit the spot you liked so much and your breath hitched, panting out his name like a prayer. Again, and again, harder, rougher.

“Say my name again, love,” he growled, pressing down. He crouched down and sucked on your nipple, hard, while simultaneously fucking you senseless.

“Fuck, Seokjin, fuck,” you moaned, clutching onto the pillows as he lifted his head, brows knitted in concentration. He felt so good, so right as his cock twitched inside you, the head rubbing against your sensitive walls. You were getting wetter, the orgasm hitting you out of nowhere, making you whine as your pussy pulsed around him, juices leaking down.

“That’s it,” he breathed, sweat glistening on his brow. The obscene, wet slapping sounds were almost too much for him.

“Seokjin, ah, I’m going to–”

He moaned as you came again, tightening around him, shuddering with pleasure. He grunted and slammed into you one last time, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. It racked his entire body, filling him with satisfaction and bliss. You pushed your hair back, looking up to see his bangs tangled with sweat and plastered to his forehead. You chuckled, smiling at him.

“You’ve gone and ruined my hard work,” you complained.

Seokjin grinned devilishly. “And I’d do it again.”

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #kim seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #jin x reader

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

All in Your Head (Part 3)

SSA Main ✧ Batman ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5

No one knows about your link with Bruce. Neither of you even knew you had it until a few months ago. The subconscious link is one of the, if not the most, private links there is. Only the two of you know you have it.

You reach out and hold Bruce’s face in your hands. He holds onto them and looks back at you. He looks so tired and you wish he didn’t have to go. “I’m not going anywhere so you go and save her.”

Just like you promised, you stayed asleep. He left you in that space of darkness and you stood in it for another minute before shifting the space into the Wayne Manor. You always walked in through the front door because the Manor always felt like such a sacred space for Bruce.

When you were with him, you would often see his family, the boys running around through the corridors and hallways, sometimes in their suits or in civilian clothing. Bruce would replay the moments he spent with them, watching TV, eating dinner, training, or even just sitting around and telling each other about their days.

Those were the best moments. They deserve more of those, not what Bruce mostly shows you, which are the fights, the yelling, the arguments, and the silent crying. He relives these moments with you instantly because he almost can’t do them by himself anymore.

“Sometimes when I’m standing in front of them and it gets too much, I forget myself and I just grab at your hand like you’re there beside me,” he said.

You stare at your hand and wish Bruce was there holding it tightly like he always does. On some occasions, Bruce thinks of someone he hasn’t seen for days and desperately misses. You’ve only seen him do it twice. Once with Jason and the other with Damian when they fought and he stayed with his mother for months.

You want to think about Bruce, standing here with you but you don’t. Neither of you does that because it feels like cheating. Your imagination could never live up to the real.

You walk along the hall and lean against the doorframe that leads into the study. There was one moment when Bruce missed his parents so badly that he relived the memory of when he annoyed his father until he would throw a ball with him in the garden. You watched, amused, as Bruce shifted himself into his younger self. A child with bright blue eyes and always smiling from ear to ear, so full of mirth.

But now the manor is completely empty.

You walk beside its walls like a ghost that can’t touch anything.

You walk up the stairs and down the long corridors until you reach Bruce’s room. You find it the same way the two of you left it from the other night, with pillows on the floor, sheets disheveled, and a broken lamp tucked away in the corner.

You smile as you walk forward and fall face down onto Bruce’s bed. The sheets don’t smell like anything and it’s exactly how Bruce smells. After honing his sense of smell beyond human ability, he’s become sensitive to everything. When he’s dreaming he shuts off all of his senses and relaxes.

You lie there for an hour, maybe less or more, you don’t know. Time is the most unstable factor in the dreamscape. You and Bruce have had to set up the most aggressive alarms just so the two of you won’t sleep away a whole day together. Again.

You bring your knees closer to your chest, emulating the sudden constricting hold wrapping around your torso. You grip the sheets in your hands until your knuckles are white and you let horrific sobs wrack through your body. You cry loudly inside the empty bedroom.

You cry until your subconscious couldn’t produce any more tears and it feels like your throat has closed up.

Finally, you get up and go down to the cave, walking in through the old grandfather in the study. You climb down the stairs as slow as you can and focus so that the dream won’t add more steps. You count the number Bruce has given you. When you reach the landing, you stare out at the illuminated cave and the parts that are still shrouded in darkness.

You walk past the glass displays that store their old costumes, Dick’s, Jason’s, Tim’s, Cass’, and Damian’s, until you reach the computer. You place yourself in front of the monitors, tucking your legs underneath you as you sit in a chair almost twice your size, and wrap yourself in a blanket you and Bruce shared on other nights when you would just sit and talk. You turn on the computer and let it boot up as if you’re actually there and not sleeping in your bedroom.

But you don’t touch the mouse or the keyboard. Instead, your mind forces the monitor to show you videos and clips of what Bruce could be doing right now. He might be infiltrating a prison cell hidden in the subbasement of a secret government building, a hidden island in the Pacific Ocean, or an illegal lab that experiments on soulmates and metas.

You watch one of the screens that’s showing Batman crawling inside a long air vent. He stops in front of a set of grills and looks in. You can see beds with two that are occupied, some desks and cabinets, a tall man in the middle of the room, and the biggest figure in the room stands between him and the door.

You lean in close to the monitor as you watch Bruce unscrew the grills. You watch as golden smoke rises up to the ceiling, making Bruce pause for a brief second. You still have the image of it in your head when suddenly the woman on one of the beds leaps at the tall figure.

Bruce is already through the vent and scaling along the walls when you realize that was Wonder Woman. She’s shaking, one hand clinging onto the table to stand upright. You gasp when the huge figure smashes her into the ground.

You watch the rest of the scene play out, inching closer and closer. You shout out Bruce’s name when you see Scarecrow come up behind him and injects him. You finally breathe better when nothing happens and you relax more as you watch them escape.

Suddenly, the monitors shut down and the lights around the outer walls of the cave turn off one by one, and then the whole cave is drowned in darkness. It takes a long second before the soft glow of the emergency lights light up the platform.

You definitely didn’t do that.

You hear groaning behind you and jump off the chair as you turn around. There on the medical table, Bruce is sitting up and looking around the cave frantically, as if he doesn’t recognize the place. He looks frightened and weak, standing up too quickly and staggering toward you. “Where’s Alfred?”

You quickly go to his aid. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you help him stand. “He was just here,” he mumbles, turning his head to look around the platform. “He was just… testing me for poisons.”

“Poisons?” you gasp. Scarecrow’s mask immediately springs back into your mind. “I thought that was nothing. I thought you were fine. You were…” you suddenly realize that what you saw on the monitor wasn’t just your imagination. It was Bruce’s memories.

“Bruce, you’re asleep now.”

“I’m not,” he protests. “I’m in the Batcave. I was with Alfred but you were…”

“No, Bruce,” you whisper, almost pleading. “You’re asleep.” Something’s definitely wrong. Bruce has always had the better handle on your link, always better at controlling the dreamscape and filtering his subconscious. Lucid dreaming is still a skill you have a hard time nurturing but Bruce handles it with talent.

“B-Bruce…” you both turn at the sound of somebody else’s voice softly echoing in the cave. He sounds out of breath and gurgling. It’s Robin. Jason. He’s holding his side with both of his hands while blood is seeping between his fingers.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

His face is badly bruised. His mask is torn in half and his eye is swollen. He coughs out blood and you feel Bruce’s fingers digging into your shoulder. “H-help…”

As Jason falls, Bruce drags himself away from you and kneels right beside Jason. His hands are badly shaking over Jason’s still body, so afraid to touch him. “No. Not again. Late again,” you hear him say. His thoughts are starting to filter out of his own head and into both of yours.

You can hear the chaos as different voices fill the dream. Bruce is devastated by the death of Jason but Batman is telling him it’s not real. You can hear an eerie whispering sound coming from him as he rocks his body in shock over Jason’s body.

“It’s the toxin. It’s the toxin. It’s the toxin.”

You muster the courage to take the steps toward Bruce and Jason. You flinch at the pale boy’s face and then pry your eyes away. You kneel down beside Bruce and touch his shoulder. You wait until he turns to you, “Bruce, please.” You hold his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “That’s not Jason.”

Bruce whimpers and closes his eyes. He holds your hands and presses them harder against his cheeks as the tears start to come. “Not real,” he whispers like a mantra.

Metal skidding on the platform breaks both of your concentration. Barbara is rushing onto the platform, frantically turning the wheels of her wheelchair until she skids to a stop in front of you.

“Bruce!” she yells out and then there’s the sound of a door slamming and Barbara turns around in fear.

You follow her gaze that’s directed somewhere off the platform. It’s all black. Then there’s a gunshot and Barbara goes limp in her wheelchair, her head hanging on one side with a bullet hole in her forehead.

You’re screaming. Barbara’s eyes are wide open. You know this scene. You’ve seen it. You know who’s in the darkness. “Bruce, you need to calm down,” you whimper desperately. “You’re going to--”

Maniacal laughter fills every crevice and every crack of the cave. You look around the ceiling, desperately clinging onto Bruce’s cape. A voice boom out from the darkness, “Ello Batsy!”

Your whole body goes rigid as he steps out from the shadows, one leg first like an entertainer coming through the curtain. His pale white face stands out against the darkness. He’s grinning wildly. “Been a while.”

You choke down a whimper and his face quickly turns to you. “Oooooh. What do we have here?” He steps closer to the two of you. “Looks like you got yourself a soulmate, Batsy. And here I was thinking I’m the one.” Joker leans close to your face and glares at you with his eyebrows touching.

You prepare yourself to start inching back but then he grabs you by the throat and lifts you off the floor. The force is so strong that Bruce falls on his back with his hands bracing him. Scarecrow’s fear toxin has been completely absorbed by his system and he’s run out of control in the dreamscape. For the first time that you’ve been with him, Bruce is completely incapacitated with fear.

You choke as the bony fingers of the madman dig into your skin. It hurts and you can’t breathe. Everything suddenly feels so real.

The Joker laughs as you choke.

“No…” Bruce whispers, finally finding some semblance of his own voice. But it’s so low and broken. He sounds like a boy. “No. Please.”

You want this dream to be over. You try to claw at the Joker’s hands. He laughs in your face and the next thing you hear is a bone crack.

The Joker lets you go and you lie there unable to move. This is wrong. You’re supposed to wake up. You’re supposed to leave.

You’re on the floor with your bent neck and your head lying on the side, facing Bruce. He’s staring at you with wide eyes and his mouth is open. He drags his knees close to you and you can see his whole body shaking as he leans down. “No… no…”

Gently he picks you up to hold you in his arms. He’s staring down at your face, watching the stillness and pale skin. His subconscious is too strong and you feel like you’re dead because he truly believes it.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

You can feel it too. You can actually feel the rigor mortis kicking in and it’s scaring you. Is this how it feels to die?

Bruce’s head hangs low and you see the tears fall before feeling their warmth on your skin.

“Not you too… Please, not you...”

You want to whimper. You want to cry. You just want this to be over. You have got to be stronger than Bruce. You have to block out his thoughts and overpower him.

You will yourself to concentrate until you can move a single finger. Then another. Until you can move one hand. That’s all you need. Slowly, you lift it to touch his face and his eyes widen. He grabs your hand and clasps it while he stares at you with furrowed brows.

“Y-you’re right, Bruce,” you struggle to say, slowly feeling his hold on the dreamscape crumble. “I’m not real. None of this is.” Bruce shakes his head. “Please… just wake up.”

You shut your eyes and force the dreamscape to completely obliterate.

Bruce is sweating and raking in large breaths at a time when he wakes up on the medical table. Only some time has passed. Alfred is there with a sad expression on his face as the monitor’s angry blue lights frame his silhouette.

Bruce focuses his eyes on the monitor and finds a graph with greatly varying spikes connected to different types of chemicals. “W-what just…” he breathes out.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says gently, “It appears to be an alteration of Scarecrow’s fear toxin.”

Bruce groans as he drops down from the table, “What kind of alteration?”

Alfred doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, he stares at Bruce and from the way he looks, he might already know, “It’s a lot milder. Mild enough to not affect your consciousness…” he let his words hang as he watches the slow recognition dawn on Bruce’s face. “And only affect you while you’re unconscious.”

Bruce clenches his fists and suddenly finds it hard to swallow.

“They know.”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#ssa #superhero soulmate au #DC fanfiction #DC imagines #DC reader insert #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Miss.Julia Hoffman

Victor x MC (Bella Swan)

*Smut and NSFW*

“Your room card Miss.Hoffman,” The concierge sliding across the sleek keycard to you. A charming smile, a light dip of your Dior sunglasses and swift hand movement, you snap the key up and leave the front desk. Pulling along the GUCCI suitcase, radiance and wealth radiating off your personality, no-man dare cross your path as they all stood aside for you, jaws dropping to the floor among the sea of wealthy businessmen. As you step into the glass elevator, hand firmly around your suitcase handle as your gazes meet a sharp flash of purple before the doors shut. Victor Li. You couldn’t help but contain the smile on your face at the success of your plan, no-one recognising you as you portrayed the life of Miss. Julia Hoffman, a complete made up persona. It had started as a teasing joke, ‘I should just become a different person since I can’t be myself around you,”. Your hands flew up in a fit, another headline creating a false story around Victor, ‘Mistress seen leaving Victor Li’s house at 6 a.m. as a bachelor caught with another woman this week’. It was you, just in different disguises leaving Victor's house in the early morning. Victor and you had been secretive about your relationship, you were exclusive, very exclusive. But you wished for privacy, as soon as the press caught wind of the woman in Victor Li’s life it would be non-stop for months on end, and while he never said it aloud. Victor cared more for your privacy and safety than his multi-million company and he would rather lose all his profit than see you suffer at the hands of the media. They would pull past history, investigating into your private past, each drop of information spilled across a headline like a fresh drop of ink on paper. Victor would rather take the full blow, leaving him a misogynistic playboy with a reputation of taking mysterious lovers, rather than see your name sprawled across a headline with a fade up rumour next to it. So you decided to create just one disguise, a successful businesswoman of the name, Julia Hoffman.

Julia Hoffman was a well endowed business investor, always investing under false names so no-one could track her records, who broke into the world of investing amongst the businessman. You educated yourself by learning and using words like ‘Defensive Investment’, ‘Capital Expenditure’, ‘Arbitrage’ and Victors personal favourite ‘Persuasion’. Since you played the part, you needed to look the part, Victor giving you his black card to go shopping and ‘dress appropriately’. Julia Hoffman wore tight white shirts tucked into a leather tight skirt, showing off her curvaceous figure below the tailored in blazer. The red-bottomed heels screamed her wealth and power, each clack could be heard before she entered a room, pulling all attention on to her. “I’ll need a Porsche you know,’ You wink with a tease to Victor as you show him the bags of your clothes you had purchased. A chuckle from the CEO as he nodded approvingly at the outfit choices, you ensured not to show him the little number you had planned for your first meet up, which was only days away. The press went wild when they clicked Julia sneaking out, the dark shades over her face to block her eyes from view, power radiating in her walk. When she was then pictured shopping amongst the wealthiest shops in the city the previous day, the press clung to find out who this woman was. It became the hottest topic of the week news, who was this mystery woman and how could no-one identify who she was.

The plan was for Julia Hoffman to check in first, the online booking being checked by the young man at the desk. From then Victor would turn up, so that the press wouldn’t know Miss.Hoffman was there, check in and meet in one of the rooms. Only Victor didn’t expect to see you radiating with a new found level of confidence, the gleaming smile on your lips, the skin tight dress framed your body perfectly. He wanted to knock-out everyone who was gazing at your beauty, sweep you up in his arms and take you to his room. But Victor couldn’t do that because you weren't Bella in that moment, you were Julia Hoffman.

The doors of the elevators opened, you stepped out onto the business suit floor, room 409, the room on the end of the corridor. Perfectly private. Your eyes widened at the sight, wealth dripped from the room a chandler having from the ceiling, glass floor to ceiling windows that peered down on the bustling city below. You unpacked your bag, before texting Victor ‘Julia is settled’. You felt like an agent on a mission, unable to hold back the child-like giggles at the pure amusement of the situation.

Around an hour later you heard a knock at the door, running to quickly open it, Victor fled inside two tumblrs of whisky in his hand. “Mr.Li” A smile gracing your lips as you stepped back from the smartly suited man. “Such an honour to have a man of such wealth grace my presence’ you welcome him in, striding across the room. “I have a proposition Mr.Li’ You lean forward and press your hands against the window, letting your ass seductively sway. Victor takes bounding strikes to be within your proximity. “It must get lonely at the top, let me help you find comfort,” It falls so seductively from your lips, your hands bunching up your skirt before pushing down your silk panties, a small thud hitting the floor. A choke from the unflusturable CEO, placing the drinks down and pressing up fiercely behind you, pushing your body to lay against the window. Lips humming with a satisfying pleasure as he pressed kisses against the base of your neck, exposed from your high ponytail, a subtle moan falling from you. As his kisses continue, savouring each crevice against your skin, his hands tracing over your bare ass giving you a harsh squeeze. He wanted to undress you, see you at your most vulnerable, naked, trembling beneath him, your eyes shut tight to hold back the tears, that was Victor’s favourite moment of you. But that was saved just for him in the comfort of his home, right now both of you played the part of the needing-full business couple. The hardness of his cock, strained by his trousers pressed fiercely against your lower back, he was ready to tease you until dawn broke. But the lust fill moaned of his name as you ran a finger over your already dripping core was enough to snap the man's self-control.

His left hand running up your body as his fingers wrap around your neck with a tight grip, his right pressing fiercely against the window, now fogging up with your heavy breath for support as he hilts himself within you. The heavy groans, hot against your neck sending raising goosebumps around your body, each individual hair sending a vibration through your body. ‘I will never be lonely with you beside me’ The strain in his voice as let the persona drop, speaking his words directly to you. The strangling grunt below the shell of your ear made you clench over his thickness, normal a reserved man Victor was rare to make noises whilst fucking. ‘Your so tight for me, your perfect’ The two final words leaking like a trickling fountain out of his mouth, your left hand moving up to reach around, tugging at his thick hair, the right slamming against the window you were pushed up against. Victor’s coming down a few spaces to interlace his fingers with yours. ‘Only yours Victor’ Through broken moans, throwing your head back against his shoulder, eyes tightly shut as the heated pressure growing with intensity bubbled. The hand around your neck pressed with additional pressure, not enough to hurt but slight enough to make you feel light headed as he thrusted deep inside you. Each harsh thrust against you slapped against your ass, the feeling of his balls slapping against you, tears forming as you clenched your eyes shut. Your head rolled back against his clothed shoulder as whimpers fell from your mouth, the feral actions of Victor as he slammed into you, your fingers clawing helpless at the glass window for something to grab. The depth of his angle as his head brushed against your g-spot, your head lightly spinning as the tightness within you began to grow. The muscles clenched over him, the pressurised build up rapidly increased as it almost reached boiling up, each thrust bringing you close. Until it finally snapped, like a glass shattering from being dropped, a million shards of pleasure shattering across your body with a warm wave. A string of ‘I’s’ as a warning but unable to finish, Victor’s thrusting hips bringing you to a mind-blowing release, your head feeling as if you almost blacked out for a minute from the insatiable pleasure from within you. The hand around your neck loosens slightly, Victor’s face turns to bring his lips to yours, tongues wrestling against each other as his thrusts become sloppy, the slapping of his balls hitting your leaking pussy pulsed through the room. One, two, three final thrusts and he spills deep inside you with a deep groan, the hand interlaced with yours gripping tightly over yours. A tender claim between the pair of you, that you belonged to each other.

The pair of you spent most the night ravishing each other, a deep physical and emotional connection between you as soft spoken words were exchanged, the put up front of personas lost between your passion. You begged him to not leave as you yawned, finally spent and unable to take any more, legs physically trembling when you stood up. You curled up against his strong torso, his heart beat flooding your ears as you pressed your head to his chest, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. The faintest sweet words were whispered into your hair as a pair of warm lips pressed against your forehead as you drifted so peacefully, full of content to sleep. When you awoke the following morning you were alone, the faint trace of Victor's scent on the pillow, the growing coldness of where he had crept across the mattress. It hurt in your heart waking up alone, all you wanted was to be beside Victor, not sneaking around with your relationship. The months you had been together, enjoying each other's company in the privacy of his home, it was the best time of your life but it just wasn’t enough. You wanted to walk hand in hand down the street, enjoy time at festivals together rather than ‘coincidentally’ meeting, getting to enjoy normal activities as a couple. Rather than sneaking out of his house in the early morning, never being able to be comforted by him at work, all you wanted to scream from the top of the LFG building was that you were head of heels in love with Victor Li. But as soon as your relationship would be public, everything would change, but would it all be that bad?

What you didn’t know was how Victor felt the same, pulling himself from your sleeping form to return to his room was agony. All he wanted to do was have you cradled in his arms as you slept so peacefully. Each morning when he woke up to see you had already left, the emptiness of his bed without you, all of it made his heart ache. Why should he live in fear of the media? Why should he sacrifice parts of his relationship, the woman who drove him mad with her at times simpleness, out of fear? Pulling himself from your warmth, just for the sake of not being caught was the final straw, Victor couldn’t do this anymore.

You flicked on the news as you woke up hazily from your sleep, pulling yourself grudgingly out of bed, trying your hair up as a knock came at the door. ‘Just a minute’ you yelled back but the repeated knocking drove you to answer it.

“Victor?” You questioned, opening the door but he shoved you inside, a grip on your shoulders as his lips met yours, “Victor! People will- Hmph!”. You protested with concern but then took the angle to deep the kiss.

“I don’t care, let them know,” His words fell into your mouth as he embraced you.

Your relationship came public after Victor released a statement, declaring your relationship in the form of a letter which was later published, a plea at the end to respect your boundaries. The press went into a frenzy, each media trying to snap you and Victor together, throwing themselves at you both for interviews. As a couple you did one interview, an exclusive for ‘Miracle Finder’ sending ratings to an eye-watering high. The rumours of his playboy life style was put to rest, the scandals of the women leaving his house all put down to you, the extended length of depths you went to protect your relationship. The press adored you both, comments flooding in about how happy Victor looked, the way his face lit up when he spoke about your relationship. Seeing the CEO so happy, the press left you both alone, something neither of you would have imagined would happen.

“Are you okay?” He asked, squeezing your hand as you nodded to him with a smile. Today you were finally visiting the festival of light, together, as a couple. The false persona of Julia Hoffman had been disbanded, allowing you to enjoy Victor's company as yourself. The pair of you stepped out of Victor’s house and walked along the street, other couples smiling and waving at you, a flood of happiness stifled through your body.

“Victor look!” You squealed, letting go off your boyfriend's hand and rushing to the stall with candies shaped like animals.

“Dummy,” He sighed ever so softly with a chuckle, coming to stand up behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, “Entertained by the smallest of trinkets, I love you”. The three words stopped you in your track, three words he had never to you.

“You love me?” You couldn’t hold back the goofy smile as you turn to face him, a bashful look on his face.

“Well- I-” He mumbled, the colour rising on his cheeks.

“I love you too,” You gleefully giggle, leaning up to stand on your tip-toes and pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

Everything about Victor was perfect, your relationship was perfect but this, right now, spending quality time as a couple was the most blissful experience ever.

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mr love victor #mr love queens choice victor #victor smut #mlqc li zeyan #mr love #mr love mobile #victor li #mlqc victor li

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: SAAN

Genre: angst, *TW* suicide/depression (what’s new)

you were far away from the nearest convenience store, far away from any roads whatsoever. the track wasn't abandoned or out of operation, no. it just so happened that the time gaps trains left their stations were nearly an hour before and after one another. It gave you plenty of time to roam and drag your feet against the rails without a care in the world.

the wire of your earpiece was dangling away from your chest, the large, black hoodie hugging you loosely as you look down at your knees through your ripped jeans.

"I wish i never had you."

you heard your mother's voice echo in the back of your head, cuing you to look up into the dark, night sky. You raised your hand, looking through your fingers at the stars in the dark blue canvas.

"my life would've been so much easier without you."

you let a pathetic smile form in the corner of your lips, looking back down at your shoes and balancing yourself on the narrow surface of the railways. whatever your mother said never hurt you anymore, not after you've suffered the last 20 years of it. sometimes you wish you could run away and start a new life, but where were you going to get the money from? Where were you going to sleep? What were you going to eat?

that was when you thought: if nothing could hurt me, then life has no meaning.

you took a step onto the middle of the track, barely catching a glimpse of the train's headlight half a kilometre away from you. reaching into your hoodie's pocket, you find the volume buttons to turn up the music, not caring if it destroyed your eardrums.

nothing could hurt you anymore. and after this, nobody could.

you shut your eyes, barely hearing the honk of the train blaring in your face when you felt yourself being aggressively yanked backwards by your arms. your earpiece fell out in the process, the earbuds falling to the tracks and getting caught in the gears of the metal, crushes by the train. your elbows were pressed into the damp, dead leaves on the ground, your eyes flashing as the train zipped by you, barely two metres away from your nose.

why am i not dead yet? why am i not dead yet? why am i sitting here? i should be torn apart on the track--

you hurry to your feet, shoving the person who pulled you away from the track backwards while you stumbled to your feet.

"what's wrong with you?! can't you see i'm trying to fucking die here?!" you scream your head off at him, nothing but anger filling your veins and your head. you've already exhausted all the tears left in you crying over how much your mother hated you, so all that's left was emptiness and anger. the boy on the floor had a look of pain and pity painted onto his face, his eyes carefully studying you as you tremble in your stance, glaring down at him and into his soul.

"motherfucker," you huff between your teeth, hissing as the last cabin zooms past behind you. you press your palms flat over your hood on the back of your head, looking at the train with a strong look of disappointment, looking at it like you just missed the winning ticket for lottery.

"For fuck's sake!" You start yelling, rushing back onto the track and the small rocks nearly tripping you. "fucking hell, come back! i'm RIGHT HERE! since the whole world fucking HATES me, why don't you just let me leave in fucking peace!?" You could feel a vein pop out on your neck as you scream into the ground and into the sky.

"you put me through all this pain, god..." you fall to your knees, the frown on your forehead refusing to dissipate as you take a rock and hurl it aimlessly elsewhere. "put me through this fucking pain--"

you hurl another rock away, agitated.

"and yet refuse to let me take my own life--"

you grab a handful of rocks and swing it into the air.

"where are your fucking guts?!" you got back to your feet, violently kicking away at the rocks and completely ignoring the fact that there was someone else at the scene. "Huh?!"

"you put me all these ordeals and yet you don’t have the fucking guts to take my life?! How is this fair?!" you shout towards the sky, your hood finally coming off to reveal your messy hair. you could feel your face burning from all the screaming, and your hands were grazed with a thin layer of rock sediment and dust.

the boy watches on as you fall to your knees again, gritting your teeth while picking up rocks and mindlessly throwing them somewhere else.

you were so absorbed in hurling rocks that you flinched when you felt someone's hand land on your shoulder. you lift a fist and grabbed the rim of his hoodie, ready to smash your fist upwards into his chin. you had no problem taking on a male--

he grabs both wrists and pushes you around so you were back-facing him. you felt a muscle being pulled somewhere, and a sharp pain shoots up your shoulder when he keeps one arm behind your back and the other up between your shoulder blades.

you wince in pain, whining aggressively and trying to shift your torso to loosen his grip, but whatever you did only made him pull your right arm higher up between your shoulder blades. Your back was arched, in attempt to reduce the amount of pull he had on your arm that was in the lock.

"do you feel the pain?"

you huff angrily, gritting your teeth so hard you thought you could crack your own molars.

"Do you?" he asks again, giving you a small jerk by tightening the pull on the arm lock he had you in. you growled in pain, finally realizing that there was nothing you could do, lest you let him rip your arm out of its socket.

"of course it hurts like fuck, asshole."

"then remember that. pain means life. pain means that you are made of flesh and bone, and if you believe god has anything to do with your circumstances, then you better believe god made you for a reason too."

you grind your teeth against each other, very, very pissed off. once you felt his grip on your arms loosen, you whirl around to grab his hoodie, using your body weight to your advantage as you push him into the floor. he grunted in pain when his back hits the rough earth, watching you climb onto him to keep him pinned down. you wrestle with him and his arms because you just want to slap the shit out of this guy.

"should've just let me die, son of a bitch--" you menacingly warned, your hands only making contact with his arms as he skillfully blocks all your blows. you found your wrists in his grasp again as he carefully studies your blank, emotionless expression. but you were giving off nothing but anger and frustration.

“i know how you feel.”

he says with a tinge of pity in his voice. you try to struggle out of his grip, but to no avail. he’s just trying to get into your head.

“no, fuck you. you just don’t want to see a fucking corpse--” you hissed and leaned back, trying to pull your arms away from him. but this move only gave him space to sit up and push you backwards, the roles reversed. he had his knees on either side of your waist, making sure he wasn’t putting any weight on you while your wrists were still trapped under his fingers.

“i’ve seen a corpse before,” he shakes his head at you. the hood over his head and his long fringe doesn’t reveal much emotion on his face. “ever been surrounded by them before?”

a tight frown forms in your head as you grit your teeth, the hard rocks under your head pushing themselves into your scalp as you kick your legs into the air.

“i was here two years ago because i lost my family in a car accident. i was the only one who survived.”

you stop struggling and processed his words, glaring back at him with hardened eyes that were on the verge of softening. you wanted to snap back at him and say that it was different. he lost his family to an accident, but you lost your only kin only because she doesn’t love you. it was different.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, not to him who had just chosen to keep your life grounded to earth.

“i’m sorry,” you manage out through your throat.

“someone saved me then, so now i want to save you. please--”

“no,” you start shaking your head in denial, starting to feel a sick ball being stuck in your stomach and your chest sinking in on itself as your mother’s face flashes in your head. “i have nothing to live for. please, just let me go.”

you try to struggle, but he only shakes his head and tries to pin your arms down while he sits back on your thighs.

“please, i’m begging you...” you thought it wasn’t possible anymore, but you could feel tears being collected in the corners of your eyes, falling along the sides of your face and into the crevices of your ears. “there’s nothing for me to live for anymore. so please, just let me go... please... oh my god...”

he looks down at you and watches you crumble into a million pieces like you weren’t already completely broken. the anger was now replaced with hurt and devastation, and you couldn’t do anything but sob and whine under this stranger’s weight.

“give it one more chance, will you?” he nearly whispers, his face now inches away from yours as he leans forward. his eyes were long and narrow through his hair, and there was a strange scent of some diffuser’s scent coming off him, like he’d just came from a hotel or a place filled with money and luxury.

“and if it doesn’t work, i’ll let you go.”

your eyes snap back to give him the attention at his words. you were short of screaming ‘no’ into his face, but there was something about his hold on your wrists that were loosening. there was something about the way he looked at you like he knew what you were feeling inside, even if the circumstances were different. maybe he did know what you were feeling.

“i promise.”

it was like someone decided to pick up all your pieces and offered to patch them together. you had no clue how he was going to do it, but it sounded convincing enough for you to nod your head unwillingly.

Part 2: Fly Away With Me

#ateez san #san fanfic #san imagine #san scenario #angst #tw suicide #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timetohajima #san #choi san #timetohajima playlist feels

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littleredwritinghoodxx · 4 years

Text

Views from the Loft

Original Publication Date: August 19th, 2019

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Humor

Summary: Zelda, in that second, realized she wanted to remember that moment forever. A thought occurred to her, and she quickly took out the Sheikah Slate and snapped a photo from the loft. Link still didn't remember much from before the Great Calamity, but perhaps they could create new memories: memories of him, her, and their little Hateno home. A look into a year with Link and Zelda.

Word Count: 5,333

Summer

The grass was soft under her fingertips, the small flowerbed alive with insects and fauna. The sun was high above her in the sky, beating down on that little Hateno Village in East Necluda. Zelda relished in the way the sun felt upon her skin, how the breeze swayed in the afternoon, its tendrils tickling her face. It had been months since she and Link had defeated Calamity Ganon on that fateful day in the Hyrule Fields, and since then, Zelda took no small thing for granted.

She supposed she hadn’t known what to expect following one hundred years of constant battle against the Calamity. She had plenty of time to mull it over, plenty of time to imagine and dream of what she would do once the battle was over. Yet, she never did expect that Link would practically throw her onto Epona's back and whisk her away to one of the far corners of Hyrule, to a small little quiet village, with no agenda, and no expectations.

Zelda adored it.

She had no obligations, no commitments, no duty. She could argue that after one hundred years of sealing Calamity Ganon in the sanctum of Hyrule Castle that she was well due for a break: and so break she did. She found herself falling into a lazy sort of schedule: she would wake late by mid-morning to the smells of Link cooking breakfast in his – their – kitchen, and would quietly observe him from over the railing until he noticed her. He always got this big, goofy grin on his face every time he saw her for the first time in the morning. It was a look she wanted to permanently etch into her memory. After breakfast, she would change into a smock, and would go to the market for groceries, or make a trip up the hill to see Purah, or lay in the yard doing absolutely nothing, and she found the peacefulness and the slowness from Hateno Village to be absolutely delectable.

Some days, on days much like today, Link would join her in the yard, either tilling in the garden, fishing in the pond, or with her, rolling around with her in the grass like two idiots in love: for that they were. Despite their relationship prior to the Great Calamity, things between them came naturally – easily. It had started as a practicality: Link had not connected the dots that by bringing Zelda to his Hateno home, he would need to contract Bolson to bust out the wall under the loft to construct a second bedroom with furnishings. When he had admitted this to Zelda, he looked almost sheepish, claiming that with everything going on and storming Hyrule Castle, he just forgot. Of course, this was completely understandable to Zelda. She had always been a practical woman, and seeing as his bed was large enough for two, she merely suggested that they share his bed from the loft.

You should have seen how red the tips of his ears got at that.

But he agreed – and as the proper gentleman he was, he made sure to give her plenty of space in the bed, making sure not to touch her, as he slept on the very edge of the bed.

As you can imagine, that didn't last long.

The next morning had found him migrated towards the center of the bed, with a warm and very real Zelda tucked under his chin, her hands fisted in his tunic, their legs tangled together. His arms were wrapped around her, feeling her gentle inhalations in the dewy Hateno morning.

It was heavenly.

So began a nightly ritual between the two where, try as they might, they were both doomed to migrate towards each other in the night. After one hundred years separated from each other, it was surprising that they could even resist at all.

So then it should come as no surprise to you all to hear of the day Link, Farore's Champion, somehow mustered up his courage and kissed her.

They were walking back down the hill from the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab; Zelda made frequent visits up the hill to visit Purah and to let her tinker with the Sheikah Slate, and from time to time, Link would make that trip with her. This was one of those trips, and it was a trip that ended up bearing fruitful results: Purah had made a breakthrough with the runes, and she had learned of a way to upgrade the camera rune to include moving pictures, with sound qualities as well. She was still programming the Guidance Stone with the right information, so she gave the two of them explicit instructions to come back next week with the slate to download the camera rune update, which found them shoved outside the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab with a slammed door in their face, both trying hard to keep their cackling down lest Purah hear them.

A heavenly glow was cast upon Hyrule in the evening dusk, casting shades of magenta and orange and cerulean blues. Much of Hateno and Necluda was hidden in the shadow of the Dueling Peaks and Mount Lanayru, and thus most of Hyrule was hidden from view. It was their own little slice of heaven, a world without the constant reminders of their loss and struggles. Despite this, as she looked across Hyrule – her Hyrule – a blossom of pride and joy bubbled up from within her: this was what she was fighting for. This land of hers, glowing softly in the sunset, finally at rest, was what made one hundred years of fighting worth it.

That, and having the man next to her made it worth it, as well.

She had paused under an apple tree, gazing over the land, and only realized just then at some point in their trek down the hill, Link's hand had ended up placed in hers, their fingers intertwined: a perfect fit.

She sighed, gazing over the land, rubbing her thumb across Link's hand, "Beautiful, don't you think?"

"I do."

But Link wasn't looking out over Hyrule. He was looking at her, his eyes intense, yet soft, never wavering. Zelda looked towards him, realizing this. Gently, he cupped her face with his free hand, moving closer, his hand holding hers coming across the small of her back. She wasn't breathing, her lips slightly parted, as she looked into his eyes with the same sort of intensity, waiting for the next moment.

"Zelda," he breathed, "What would you say if I told you, right now, that I love you?"

He could be so oblivious sometimes.

"I would say that I love you, too," she nodded fiercely, fisting his tunic in her hands. He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to hers, melting into her.

They shared that first kiss in the perfect sunset glow overlooking Hateno Village, hands soft and learning, tender and sensitive. They shared their second kiss with Zelda pressed up against the outside of their front door, Link fumbling with his key as Zelda's hands were frantic, stroking over every plane and crevice of his arms, his torso, his back. They shared their third kiss tangled in the sheets of their bed atop the loft, clothes being tossed and strong arms pining her down, their kisses messy and passionate, just the two of them in the moonlight.

That was a few weeks back, nearing the end of that spring and transitioning into summer. Zelda sighed, amidst the flowers and the wildlife, placing a hand on her lower stomach. She was in love with Link, and him to her. She couldn't think of a more blissful way to live her life. And thus their routine continued: Zelda found herself the next morning right where she always was, quietly observing Link from the loft, waiting until he noticed she was awake. He stood with his bare back to her, quietly cooking breakfast in the kitchen below, the smells making their way up to the loft and filling Zelda with a sense of home.

Zelda, in that second, realized she wanted to remember that moment forever. A thought occurred to her, and she quickly grabbed the Sheikah Slate from the desk nearby and snapped a photo from the loft. It was a simple picture, just their quaint little kitchen with Link standing over the stove, the profile of his face showing slightly, a small content smile adorning his features. Upon hearing the snap of the Sheikah Slate, Link perked up, turning around and facing her, with that goofy grin he always had on his face every morning when he saw her.

She snapped a photo of that too.

Link still didn't remember much from before the Great Calamity, not that it mattered much anymore, but perhaps they could create new memories; memories of him, her, and their little Hateno home.

Autumn

Link had, indeed, ended up contracting Bolson earlier that summer to bust out the wall beneath the loft to make a room for Zelda. Bolson had just finished construction on the room itself as the hot summer winds transitioned into the cool winds of autumn, the leaves around their Hateno home turning a vibrant mix of orange, red, and yellow. Although it was clear that Zelda would not have need of the room – she was quite content to share the loft with Link – it came not a moment too soon.

One autumn morning found the two of them tangled in each others arms, their kisses lazy – skin hot against each other in the cool Hateno morning – with Link gently caressing the small, but telling, swell of Zelda's stomach.

The new room downstairs would be made into a nursery for the little one on the way. Link had suggested that he gather some wood to build a crib for the baby. However, Zelda protested, asking if he had ever built anything in his life. Link said yes, and Zelda suggested he go to Bolson to construct them a new crib. Link then asked her if she thought he would do a poor job at building one.

Link was good at everything he did; of course she knew he would make a fine crib.

So the two of them compromised and Link left the home to go to Bolson to contract him on building a crib.

And thus began a new pattern of 'compromises', and more time for Zelda to have Link all to herself.

The days were getting colder and shorter, and Zelda was enjoying her afternoons spent under a tree, either reading a book, or cataloguing different species of plants, or testing the new 'video' rune on the Sheikah Slate that Purah had upgraded.

It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was already incredible that the Sheikah Slate could create real to life still images that were more accurate than Hyrule's finest painter, but now, she could record moving pictures complete with sound. It was almost like she was really there, reliving that memory.

Her first video that she recorded with the Sheikah Slate was up at the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab, just moments after Purah had handed her the slate and asked her to test it out.

She had pressed a little red button on the screen of the slate, and then it flashed in red letters 'recording' on the screen of the slate.

What do I do now? She had asked, moving the slate around. The camera on the slate moved side-to-side, capturing views of the upper walls of the tech lab.

Point it towards Link, Purah said, off screen, Have him say something into the camera.

The camera moved towards Link, capturing him in its lens. Even from the camera, it was clear that Link's cheeks were red, and he was almost embarrassed.

Link, say something! She heard her own voice say off camera.

Well, I don't know what you want me to say, Link said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Say anything! Anything that comes to mind! She heard Purah's voice say off camera.

Link stared into the camera lens for a moment, a contemplative look in his eyes, before in a flash, he reached out, and the camera shook.

Hey, what are –! The camera stilled and it was facing Zelda, an appalled look on her face. Though the smock she was wearing did well to hide it, if you were looking for it, you could see the small baby bump rising from her dress. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. She was glowing.

I want to have it documented, recorded, transcribed, whatever it is that this does, Link's voice was off behind the camera now, though you could hear the smile in his voice, that this woman right here is the most beautiful, most stunning, most radiant, and the strongest person I know… and she's mine.

You are such the romantic, Zelda admonished, a smile on her face, as she reached forward to grab the slate back from him. The camera angle turned, and was now face down, showing an aerial shot.

Link was laughing. Hey, give that back! Zelda was jumping beneath the camera, trying to grab it from Link's outstretched hand.

Not unless you kiss me first, Link said, grabbing her around the waist with his other hand. Zelda's cheeks and ears went bright red.

Link, turn off the camera, that would be indecent, Zelda said, squirming.

You know what would be indecent? Link said, his voice dark and rough, a naughty look in his eyes, as he leaned down and whispered something into Zelda's ear. You wouldn't be able to hear in the video what he said, but she squeaked, turning the rest of the way red as she squirmed out of his grasp and grabbed the slate from his hand. The camera shook, the sounds of Link laughing maniacally in the background before the camera stilled completely, the end of the recording.

She found herself replaying that video over and over again; not for the things he whispered in her ear, she was still blushing over that, but for all of the things he said about her. He said she was beautiful, stunning, radiant… and the strongest person he knew.

And he called her 'mine'. It evoked a very possessive side of him, and she had come to realize that she didn't mind that so much.

Because she was just as possessive of him as he was of her. She found herself craving his touch, and wanting to be near him always; and he found, too, that he didn't mind that so much. They found themselves less just Zelda and less just Link: they were a pair, a couple, a team.

And that team had to somehow work together to make a cake for Link's birthday.

It was a cool autumn day, and though it was too cold to comfortably be outside, it wasn't yet cold enough to start a fire in the fireplace. Which meant Link and Zelda wore layers upon layers inside the little Hateno home. Link would have gone about his day as normal, had it not been for Zelda grinning like an idiot at him since they woke up.

"Zelda, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Well, because today is a very special day!"

"…why is today a special day?"

"It's the Autumnal Equinox, Link!"

"…Okay…?"

"And you know what that means, right?"

"We're halfway to winter?"

"Link, today is your birthday!"

Though Link couldn't remember when his birthday was, Zelda remembered.

Though Link couldn't remember how old he was turning, Zelda remembered.

So naturally, she was going to light the cake ablaze with one hundred and twenty candles.

She had asked Link what kind of cake he would want, knowing that one hundred years ago, his favorite cake was a vanilla cake. It came as a surprise to her, then, that he responded with a chocolate cake. A little part within her was hoping that he would respond with wanting a fruitcake, which was her favorite kind. It had been over one hundred years since she had last had the dessert, and she would have committed atrocities to have that sweet dessert grace her palate again.

So she went out to the market to gather the ingredients for the cake, only to walk in and stop frozen in her tracks.

She hadn't the faintest idea on how to bake a cake.

Thus, you can see how Link got dragged into baking his own birthday cake.

He went back down with her to the market, explaining all of the things she would need to bake a cake: Tabantha flour, milk, eggs, sugar, goat butter, and chocolate.

Zelda at least got the chocolate part right.

They headed back up the hill towards their little house, and laid out all of the ingredients onto the table. Link explained that first, they had to measure out the flour into a bowl and then mix the eggs and milk into it. She went ahead opening the flour while Link put the chocolate into a pot, placing it over the fireplace to melt.

She poured the flour into the bowl, a little too quickly at that, and as it landed, a cloud of flour puffed out from the bowl, coating her face in a thin white layer. She coughed, a small white puff emerging from her lips. She squinted her eyes, the flour coating her eyelashes.

"So once you get the flour into the bowl…" Link turned around from the fireplace, facing Zelda and noticing her face.

In his defense, he at least tried to hold himself together.

That lasted about two seconds until he was doubled over, laughing.

"Zelda," he managed between laughs, "How in Hylia's name did you manage to get flour everywhere?

In response, Zelda flicked a chunk of flour in his direction, landing on his neck and tunic.

"Like that," she responded.

Thus began the first of many 'food fights' in their little Hateno home, and soon, their little kitchen was covered in a fine dusty layer of flour, and it would be months before either one of them could truly admit that their kitchen was clean. There was flour on the floor, on the table, the counters, in their hair, their clothes, their faces.

And the two were laughing like idiots in love, holding each other up as they both doubled over on themselves.

Zelda stood up, wiping a tear from her eye, "Hold on, I want to take a picture of the mess you made."

"The mess I made?" Link started, dusting himself off, "You're the one that couldn't get the flour into the bowl."

Zelda was laughing as she was running up the stairs, two at a time, leaving dusty footprints in her wake. She grabbed the Sheikah Slate from off the desk and leaned over the railing with it, opening the camera, "Smile, Link!"

In response, Link placed his hands on his hips, staring at the camera, an exasperated, but amused look on his face. She snapped the photo of that, smiling softly as the picture generated in front of her.

She placed the Sheikah Slate down, and headed back down the stairs. Link was dusting himself off, and had a peculiar expression on his face, "Okay, what next?" Zelda asked, turning back towards the bowl of flour. Or perhaps what had once been flour: hardly any remained.

"Well," Link smirked, "We will need to get more flour, all of what we had is currently on the floor and in our hair. Speaking of which…" He leaned in close, a dark look now in his eyes, "We should probably get cleaned up."

Zelda met his gaze, and her cheeks flushed, "Well, what did you have in mind?"

He grinned, leaning close to her ear, "If I told you, you would think it was positively indecent."

Zelda squeaked as Link scooped her up in his arms, laughing as he carried her out into the cool Hateno air, his long strides taking them towards the bathroom around the corner of the house, practically tossing her in and joining her, closing it shut with a firm click.

Winter

Zelda never remembered winter being this cold. She sat, bundled as she may be in layers and blankets, next to their roaring fire in a rocking chair, shivering, as Link stoked the fire, willing the room to warm up. She had a cup of hot chocolate on the side table next to her, steaming and cooling down. They were lucky that they had gone to get firewood when they did, or they would have been stuck inside during the blizzard with no firewood, no heat, and scarcely any light.

A blizzard stormed outside their little Hateno home, the winds whistling and deafening against the windows and the walls. It felt like it had been storming for days, and Zelda briefly wondered just how much longer the storm could hold up for.

A few weeks prior had found the two of them in the bitter cold, one week until the winter solstice. The temperature was dreadful, biting to any exposed skin, and somehow between the two of them, they had failed to realize that they were out of firewood.

With that, Link had donned his Snowquill tunic, a woodcutter's axe strapped to his back, and was about to head out when:

"I'm coming with you."

Link did a double take, as Zelda was just finishing lacing her snow boots, a red ruby circlet tied around her head, and winter coat strapped around her growing belly.

"What? Zelda, no," Link protested, "You can't come with, not in your condition."

"Link, I'm pregnant, not dying of the influenza," Zelda rolled her eyes, "Besides, I can help you carry back firewood. We'll be able to bring back double what we could if you just went alone."

"Zelda, it's below freezing outside. I don't want for you to get sick."

"That's why I'm wearing this," Zelda pointed to her circlet, "and why I'm wearing a jacket and boots. Besides," she crossed over to the door, opening it, and a strong gust of wind burst into the Hateno home, "you know as well as I do that it's dangerous to go alone."

Zelda led the way outside, with Link following behind, grumbling under his breath. As she stepped outside, she very nearly regretted her decision, the bitter air penetrating through her layers, making it seem like the circlet was doing nothing.

She stepped behind and allowed Link to lead, following him across the bridge and into the center of town. The wind here was ruthless, billowing in from between buildings, coming from the north at Mount Lanayru. The wind took a slight turn, and suddenly, she saw little white flecks dancing across the air in front of her, landing on the ground and in her eyelashes.

It was the first snow of the season, and her first snow in one hundred years.

Zelda smiled.

They took a left and made their way down the hill towards the Ginner Woods, both of them visibly holding their hoods closer to their face. Looking back, Hateno Village glowed softly in the snowfall, its little houses on the hill glowing with small fires burning in each fireplace. A steady stream of smoke billowed from each chimney in soft, frothy waves.

You have to really see it to understand the splendor that is Hateno Village at dusk in the wintertime.

They reached the woods and Link took the axe from off his back, and without any preamble, he swung it at the nearest tree, powerful muscles moving as he downed the tree in one swing.

How he managed to do that was beyond Zelda's comprehension. She was constantly in awe of this man.

Very quickly, Link had created a substantial pile of firewood near the road. Clearly, he was creating a stockpile to last for all, if not most, of winter. There was something about the way that the air nipped at Zelda's red nose and cheeks that told her that this winter was going to be one of the coldest in the books.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Link sheathed the axe back onto his back, and bent down to grab a small pile of wood. Gingerly, he transferred that pile of wood back to Zelda, and he took the rest off the ground into his arms.

The snow was beginning to come down harder as they made their trek back up the hill into Hateno Village. The skies were dark, a promise of a heavy snowfall. Zelda noticed off handedly that the little houses glowing on the hill were harder to see in the snowfall, seemingly dimmer and softer.

It made Hateno Village all the more beautiful.

They made their way to the little bridge in front of their home, and Zelda got excited for warmth as she saw their house glowing from across the way. She couldn't wait to get inside to warm up, as she wiped at her nose running from the cold.

They took the wood and placed it under a small shed on the left hand side of the house, Link setting his down first and then grabbing Zelda's load from her, before setting that down as well. From there, it didn't seem that they could get inside the house fast enough. The snow was falling at an alarming rate, and there was already a pile of it formed at the front door. The two of them barreled inside, Link shutting the door behind them, the sounds from outside dulling at that.

Zelda practically threw her jacket and hood off, now wet from the melted snow, and chucked it into the storage room. She heard Link laugh softly at that, as she nearly ran to the fireplace, sitting directly in front of it, warming her red fingertips.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come with," Link laughed, grabbing her jacket and hood from the storage room and climbing up the stairs to the loft. He hung the wet garments from the railing upstairs.

"Aren't you freezing?" Zelda chose to reply, jaw clenched as she willed her shivering away.

"You forget," Link said, coming next to her now, placing a blanket over her shoulders, "that my Snowquill tunic comes from Rito Village, where their clothing can withstand temperatures that rival the Hebra Mountains. Your coat and snow boots from Sophie's down the street ain't got nothing on it."

"Well then, the two of us will just have to make a trip to Rito Village before next winter, won't we?"

"Not quite," Link said, a soft smile on his face, "This time next year, the two of us will be the three of us," he said, placing a hand gently on her stomach.

Zelda placed her hand over his, and slowly, Link leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

She sat in the rocking chair, thinking back on that memory, one hand absentmindedly going to her belly where Link had placed his, the other to her lips. He stood up in front of her, the fire now roaring in the fireplace, and sat across from her, smiling at her.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, a contemplative look on his face.

"You."

"Me too."

He grabbed his book from off the side table and donned his reading glasses; something about seeing him in glasses stirred something deep inside her. She smiled, curling up further in her blankets and reached out, grabbing her hot chocolate. Everything about this winter evening was perfect. It was pure bliss.

She set down her hot chocolate and grabbed her Sheikah Slate from the side table, opening up the camera rune and snapping a picture of Link sitting in his chair by the fire, his glasses slipping down his nose as he read his book, his brow slightly furrowed.

He looked up a quizzical look in his eyes, "Must you always take pictures of me when I'm not looking."

"Not always," Zelda said, and snapped again.

Spring

There was nothing more perfect, Zelda realized, than seeing Link holding their beautiful baby girl.

She was born on the first day that spring that the snow had completely melted, small flowers beginning to bud and animals coming out of hibernation. It seemed fitting that she was born in the spring. It was the beginning of a new generation, a generation that would never be born into a world where Calamity Ganon held its malicious reign.

Link sat at the little stool next to their bed, Zelda being propped up by pillows as he held his little girl. Time seemed to stand still for them.

It was crazy to think that this time last year, Link was still freeing the Divine Beasts, and she was still locked in her one hundred year battle with Calamity Ganon. So much had happened in a year. Their lives were so different now. All of Hyrule was at peace, seeing an era of wealth and prosperity that only the oldest generation remembered from prior to the events of the Calamity. And Link…

Zelda had never seen Link so gentle before.

The way he held their baby girl was seemingly not with the same hands that wielded the Master Sword, not with the same strength that destroyed enemies, not with the same command that she had seen enemies quiver under his gaze. He held her as though she were a delicate flower, with a tender adoration in his eyes that could only be described as unconditional love.

Zelda realized she loved him even more than she had before.

"She has your eyes," Link murmured softly, looking up at her with an almost boyish glee, "She's beautiful," He breathed, bringing his gaze back towards their daughter.

Nothing in her one hundred and seventeen years of life could have prepared her for this day. Nothing could have prepared her for how perfect this moment was. Her life was absolutely brimming with joy, she and Link finally getting the peace they deserved. All was right in her little land of Hyrule.

She looked down at her baby girl, the soft coos coming from her lips bringing bubbles up from Zelda's stomach. Her breath hitched; they did it, and in that moment, Zelda finally felt like she had won.

She didn't realize she had been crying until a rough hand cupped her face, a calloused thumb wiping the tears away. She looked up at Link and saw that he was crying too. Gently, he captured her lips with his, a chaste, tender kiss on a beautiful spring day.

She knew she would never forget this day, but found herself opening the Sheikah Slate to the camera rune, setting it to self-portrait mode. It was their first family portrait, and though both their faces were covered in tear streaks, the two had never looked happier.

She snapped a photo of them, and reflecting back was a beautiful portrait of Link, Zelda, and their beautiful daughter from the loft in their little Hateno home.

Zelda took their daughter back in her arms, smiling as their baby girl's face scrunched into a tiny yawn, her big green eyes gazing back up at her mother.

Not much could make this moment better.

Not much, except one thing.

"Zelda," Link breathed, a small sparkle in his eye. He almost looked nervous, but his eyes were bright. He licked his lips.

"Yes?" Zelda asked, turning her head towards him, only to have the breath taken from her lungs as she saw Link on one knee beside the bed, a small sapphire and diamond ring in his hand. He gently placed it over her left ring finger, shining softly in the cool Hateno sunlight.

"Marry me."

And as you can see, that moment did get better for our princess and our hero.

fin

#zelink #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #breath of the wild fanfiction #breath of the wild

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 5 years

Text

IT’S CHRISTMMMASSSS Liam x Riley

Pairing: Liam x MC

Word Count: 1,940

Masterlist

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments.

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Riley smiled as she felt the arms of her husband snake around her waist as he nuzzled his chin into the crevice between her neck and shoulder after placing the softest kiss on her skin. “Merry Christmas Beautiful” he whispered “Merry Christmas, Liam” Riley smiled as she fell into his chest with a content sigh allowing him to hold her a little tighter. the couple stood in front of the floor to ceiling hotel window that looked over New York city. Riley and Liam had finally managed to get some free time, they had a couple of weeks over Christmas free from any obligations, so they had decided to take a trip with their friends to New York.

“what are you doing up? It’s still early”

“it’s snowing” she grinned “it looks beautiful out there”

“it does doesn’t it” he smirked

“why don’t we go back to bed, it’s a little cold” Riley pulled her blanket a little tighter around her.

“I would love that”

The two made their way over to the queen-sized bed. Riley pulled the duvet tight around her as she cuddled into Liam's chest, his hands gently running up and down her back.

“its nice…just getting to lie here and be with you and not have a timeline to stick to” Riley whispered

“if only we could do this every morning” Liam replied in the same tone.

“maybe one day”

“did Maxwell tell you he’s taking us to a karaoke bar tonight after dinner?” she chuckled

“no he did not…isn’t there anywhere else we can go, I hate karaoke”

“yes, but you’ve never been to karaoke with me!”

“don’t get any ideas…you have that look in your eyes” he chuckled.

“what look?” Riley smirked

“you know exactly what look I’m talking about”

“what time is everyone coming for breakfast?” Riley asked as she gently ran her finger over Liam's torso.

“about nine thirty/tenish”

“I have something for you”

“you do?”

“yeah” Riley turned and reached into the bedside drawer, she lifted a small box then turned to face Liam again with a smile. The two sat up to lean against the headboard as Riley passed Liam the box.

“Riley, you didn’t have to get me anything, I have everything I could ever want, I have you”

“as sweet as that is…shut up and open it” she grinned

Liam carefully opened the box to see two red diamond cufflinks.

“is that?” he asked taken back.

“yes” she grinned “you didn’t want you’re mothers favourite earrings thrown away…you gave them to me for me to wear, but I thought it would be nice if you could wear them, so I had the red diamonds made into cufflinks. I know how much your mother meant to you Liam, I hope you’re not mad I just thought it would be nice for you to be able to keep a piece of your mother close” she smiled, she seen a small tear roll down the side of Liam's face, he gently reached up to wipe it away.

“Riley, I could never be mad at you, this is the nicest thing anyone could have ever done, I wish you knew how much this means to me” he smiled he gently placed the box on his bedside table before facing Riley, he placed his hand gently on her check then leaned in giving her the most loving kiss.

“I love you Riley, so much, so so much”

“I love you too, Liam” she whispered as she gave him a gentle peck. The couple stayed in bed for a further fifteen minutes then they got up to get ready for the day ahead of them, they showered and done their usual hygiene routines, Riley dressed in a red cozy jumper, black jeans and brown boots, whilst Liam dressed in some casual jeans and a grey jumper, blue jeans and a pair of brown boots.

By the time nine forty-five hit, there was a knock at the door. Liam opened the door letting everyone in.

“Merry Christmas, Man” Drake gave Liam's shoulder a pat as he walked in

“Merry Christmas drake”

“Merry Christmas Your Majesty” Hana smiled as she gently curtseyed

“Hana…how many times do I have to tell you…just Liam is fine and you don’t need to curtsey we’re friends Hana”

Hana grinned as she nodded then hugged him before walking in just as Hana let go another set of arms wrapped around Liam

“MERRY CHRISTMAS LIAM!!”

“yes, merry Christmas to you to max” Liam laughed as he patted Maxwell’s back

“Maxwell! Come on move!” Olivia barked as she stood behind him trying to get by.

“she’s uh a little uptight today” Maxwell pulled a face to Liam which resulted in a light tap to the back of the head from Olivia.

“Merry Christmas Olivia” Liam smirked

“Merry Christmas, Liam” she smiled as she walked in. Liam and Riley had arranged for the hotel to send up a whole buffet of breakfast foods for everyone which had arrived just shortly before everyone had arrived.

Liam shut the door after Olivia then made his way to the living room part of the suite where everyone sat. Just as Liam entered the room, Riley appeared from the bedroom.

“you’re all here! Merry Christmas Everyone!” she done her rounds, giving everyone a hug and wishing them well. The group spent the morning tucking into their breakfasts and laughing away. once everyone had finished their food Riley stood from her seat at the table.

“alright seeing as everyone’s finished eating, I think its time for gifts!” she wondered off to the Christmas tree that sat on the other side of the room and started looking through the few gifts underneath it.

“gifts?” Olivia asked as she got up and made her way over towards where Riley sat on the floor.

“yes, Olivia that’s what people do on Christmas” Drake huffed as he followed close by.

“ha well, I don’t do gifts so…don’t expect anything”

“don’t worry…we weren’t” He laughed”

Everyone else followed shortly after.

Liam sat with Riley between his legs, resting his head on her shoulder as she sorted through the gifts.

“okay this one’s for drake” she smiled as it was passed over to him.

“you guys didn’t need to get me anything” he mumbled

“just open it!”

“alright alright!” he laughed as he unwrapped the gift, revealing a wooden box.

“Glenkinie malt”

“we got it whilst we were in Edinburgh”

“thank you, guys,”

“next we have Hana banana” Riley grinned as she handed Hana an envelope.

“thank you so much” Hana opened the envelope.

“what’s this?” she asked as she unfolded the piece of paper

“well Hana…we struggled to find something that you would love…so I thought you know what Hana would love…something to keep her occupied…you’re staying in Valtoria most of the week. I thought maybe you would like a little company, so that in your hand is an invitation from Liam and I to you, for when we get back to go to the animal rescue shelter and pick out any pet f your choosing! I know it’s a HUGE responsibility and if you don’t want to that’s totally fine, we can get you something else”

“Riley…Liam…that’s the best gift I could ask for, thank you so much!” she grinned as she hugged the two of them.

“Olivia…you’re up next” Liam handed the long box to her.

“thank you” she replied as she opened the box revealing a dagger with a large red ruby on the handle.

“I found this in the armoury a few weeks ago, it originally belonged to your father and I thought it should be returned to its rightful owner”

“thank you, you guys, this means a lot!”

“and last but certainly not least we have Maxwell!” Liam laughed as he handed the large box over to him.

“I can’t wait to see what it is!” Maxwell gasped as he got the first glimpse of what was inside.

“IS THAT THE NEW ALTA FREEFLY 8 CAMCORDER DRONE?!?! YOU GUYS!!!” Maxwell ripped the box open and took the drone out. “it’s so beautiful!!”

“now max you have to promise…no spying on anyone!” Riley laughed

“if I see that thing peeking in my window…you’re a dead man” Liam laughed

“I can’t wait to try it!”

That evening everyone got dressed to go out for dinner, then headed out. Once they reached the restaurant and got seated, they were served their drinks, not long after they we’re served their long-waited Christmas dinner, it’s all they had spoken about all day…the festive meal that everyone looked forward to every year.

“alright before everyone digs in, we should make a toast” Riley smiled as everyone lifted their glasses.

“Here’s to the year past, and the family that have left us, here’s to the present and the friends and family who are here. Heres to the new year ahead and the new friends that may join us. I wouldn’t wish to spend Christmas with anyone but you guys, I love you so much…cheers!”

Everyone raised their glasses to each other then took a sip of their drinks before they all dug into their food.

By the time their 3-course meal was done, they had consumed a few drinks and were getting to that jolly stage. They all left the restaurant and followed Maxwell’s directions to take them to the karaoke bar he was taking them to.

By the time the early hours of boxing day hit, not one soul was sober.

“Maxwell!!!!!” Hana called from right beside him, louder than needed.

“HANNAAA BANANNNAAAA” he called back

Riley was talking to Drake when she seen his face fall as he looked behind her.

“what is it? do I have something on my face?” she asked

“uhhh maybe don’t turn around and see what your husband is doing?”

“what’s he do-”

Are you hanging up you’re stocking on your wall?

It’s the time when every Santa has a baaaalllll

“no” she smirked as she turned around and there on the stage was the king of Cordonia…absolutely obliterated, he was too far gone.

“SOMEONE VIDEO IT NOW!” Riley squealed with a laugh.

Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?

Does he turn up on his sleigh

Do the fairies keep him sober for a daaayyyyyyy

“TAKE IT AWAY BABYYY!!!” Riley called as she jumped up from her seat

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS Liam bellowed out as the rest of the room joined in

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

ARE YOU WAITING FOR THE FAMILY TO ARRIVE?

ARE YOU SURE YOU GOT THE ROOM TO SPARE INSIIIDDEEE?

DOES YOUR GRANNY ALWAYS TELL YA

THAT THE OLD SONGS ARE THE BEST

THEN SHES UP AND ROCK ‘N’ ROLLIN WITH THE RESSTTT

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

WHAT WILL YOUR DADDY DO WHEN HE SEES YOUR MAMA KISSING SANTA CLAUS A-HHAAAA

ARE YOU HANGING UP YOUR STOCKING ON YOUR WALL

ARE YOU HOPING THAT THE SNOW WILL START TO FALLL

DO YOU RIDE ON DOWN THE HILLSIDE

ON THE BUGGY YOU HAVE MADE

WHEN YOU LAND UPON YOU HEAD

THEN YOU’VE BEEN SLAYED!

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

ITTTTSSSS CHRIISTTTMASSSSSSS Riley and Maxwell called as loud as they possibly could

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

#king liam #Liam x OC #riley x liam #mc x liam #liam x riley #king Liam x mc #king liam x riley #king liam of cordonia #queen riley #the royal romance #the royal heir #choices the royal romance #choices #choices fanfiction #choices app #trh #trr #trr3

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suitetarts · 5 years

Text

It didn’t used to be this way

Father and son climb a mountain and learn how to process trauma. Fluffy, angsty sweetness with a plot!

Pairings: None, just Mando and Baby Yoda

Warning: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of past trauma, mild body gore

Words: 5300

AO3 Link

The engines geared down, the exhaust spray and landing gear deployed, all to bring the Razor Crest to the surface of the mountain’s clearing with the flip of a couple dozen buttons and switches. The ship settled in with a soft thump instead of the usual hard landing, thanks in no small part to the thick blanket of snow. Din was trying his best to temper his nerves as he continued his familiar routine of stabilizing solar capacitors and turning on ground protocols. Greef Carga had found some interesting intel on a former Jedi temple from before the Empire hidden in the snow-capped peaks of Saloscant. This planet was temperate enough for colonization, but was in the furthest reaches of the known galaxies and had been all but abandoned by the powers that be, along with the temple Din sought to find. While it was good to know he probably wasn’t going to come across any sorcerers, there was always the chance of finding some pocket of outlaws. That, and the bounty hunter fancied himself more attuned to dryer, warmer climates.

A white cloud flew up in puffs and swirls of fresh powder from beneath the Crest. The child -- his child, he supposed with a strange feeling in his gut -- climbed from Din’s lap to the dashboard in speechless awe. He made his way to the glass and looked down at the disheveled snow beneath the ship. The baby chirped and looked back at Din with gleefully bright eyes and a perk to his ears.

The Mandalorian couldn’t help the smile creeping on his face. The kid was too cute when he was excited. “Pretty, isn’t it? Its snow.”

The child pressed his small, three-fingered hand against the window for a moment but flinched from the cold. He pointed outside with an accusatory augh.

“Snow is kind of like rain, but frozen. You can even eat it,” Din explained with a sad smile, feeling wistful. He had old memories of carelessly playing in snow on his planet of birth, but those memories were vague and bittersweet. With a soft shake of his head, he blocked those memories out. They didn’t do him any good, but lately with the kid, he couldn’t help but recall bits and pieces of a happier little boy’s childhood.

The child looked back at him with a small droop in his ears, as if he could feel his caretaker’s thoughts.

“Don’t look at me like that, everything’s fine. Look at this.” Din leaned over the dashboard, drawing a simple smiling face into the condensation on the window with a gloved hand. The child giggled, dragging his tiny fingers on the glass to draw lovely little lines.

After a few more moments, the Mandalorian held his hands out to the baby, waving for the little one to come closer with a quick movement of his gloved finger. The child excitedly waddled over and into his arms. “It’s time to go, so let’s bundle you up.”

Din began to wander around the various corners and crevices of the Razor Crest with the child on his hip, rummaging for some of his old clothes that he hadn’t at some point used to soak up engine oil. The child managed to slipped away to return to the cockpit and its windows, but upon his bounty hunter father finding the asset (read: a worn, but incredibly soft, old cloak), the child was quickly scooped up again.

An extended trip in the outdoors was going to require some prep and creativity, as far as getting this 50-year-old infant ready to go. As they had flown in, Din had seen some stony ruins high in the mountains, more than likely this Jedi temple, which was maybe a half-day’s hike away from where he was able to find a suitable landing place for the ship. Climbing a mountain to a surely abandoned and scavenged place to search for magic artifacts or some sort of clue, with a baby no less, was going to be no simple feat for the Mandalorian, but on top of it all: he was definitely catching a cold. Din could feel the tiredness and sinus pressure looming, and he still hadn’t felt 100% since he almost died on Nevarro. He didn’t have the luxury of sick time, however. He had to find the home of his foundling or train the child to maturity himself, either which way would benefit from him figuring out how the basics of taking care of a 50-year-old infant with supernatural powers.

Din took a step back and inspected his handiwork: the child tightly bound as if he were a ronto wrap, with only his nose and eyes visible. The Mandalorian allowed himself a broad smile from the confines of his helmet as he held the baby in the crook of his arm. He tapped the child’s little wrinkled nose lovingly with a gloved finger. “You can’t get away from me now.”

The child let out a meek protest but was not upset. The child liked a lot of things, his dad most of all.

The Mandalorian set the baby down for a quick moment to double check all of his gear. A tug on his pauldrons, securing his chest plate, a jiggle on his old cuisse, readjustment of his vambraces. A swift run through his jetpack, various tools and weaponry, and especially his munitions. Even though Din could feel the perspiration on his brow, he pinched the cloth around his elbow to check that it was indeed the thick woolen suit. Finally, he inspected the small messenger pack for the proper amount of rations and miscellaneous necessities for the little one before slinging it over his shoulder and picking up the baby once more.

As the Razor Crest’s side bay opened, the cold mountain air sucked out all the warmth from what, at least in Din’s mind, was usually his cozy and warm home. He sighed deeply in dread, looking down at the child in his arms for comfort as he began his journey up the mountain.

He didn’t like it at first, but the feeling of being bound up so tight was better than any other. The soft cloth covered him from the top of his big head all the way to his little toes, except for his face, and smelled just like his dad. The air was so very very cold, but the cold face combined with his cozy warm body felt nice, so that was okay. The child could also feel his dad’s heartbeat through his big strong arms and on the side of his torso, where the bounty hunter had so lovingly tucked him. The smell of musty blaster powder and bitter iron that surrounded him made the child feel… good. He decided to close his eyes and sleep, having the most wonderful dreams of frogs.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian was gasping for fresh air from within the stuffy confines of his helmet and sucking in his own snot as it dripped out of his nose. He couldn’t breathe through his nostrils anymore, and there’s no way he could get enough oxygen by doing anything but painfully wheezing. The glass of his visor was fogged and covered in whatever he was sneezing out. If he ever gave a thought to how he looked -- which was rare -- he usually figured he looked intimidating and (hopefully) good. In this moment, he felt like a complete mess.

Din whined pathetically to himself as he continued to drag his feet, one beleagueredly after the other, up what he believed to be a path. But how could he know where to go when everything was covered in snow? His jetpack had run out of fuel pretty quickly after the first hour or so of continuous use, and so it was just more weight pulling Din down. It had saved him some walking time surely, but not enough. At some point, the clouds and their snow flurries cleared and the sky had turned a deep dark purple. Three tiny moons had come up, illuminating the snow in a violet hue. He couldn’t remember how long the day and night cycle on this planet was, and he could hardly think enough to remember why it mattered. The baby was still asleep in the crook of his arm, which was a miracle. He had to switch the kid over to the other arm almost constantly at this point as both were feeling heavier and heavier. If Din had to, he wasn’t sure he could even raise his blaster.

His dragging feet caught on something large underneath the snow and down he went, just barely saving himself from falling on top of the child. Large dark eyes shot open with a quizzical shout from the baby. Din was barely holding himself up on his knees and one hand dug deep into the snow, the other arm curled around the child. He gently set the little bundle down for a moment while he hovered above, using the opportunity to take a break. The only sounds from the entire mountainside were the ragged breaths coming out of the Mandalorian’s voice modulator.

“Sorry, I-I…” He hadn’t said a word since daylight, and despite his mind being foggy, he was shocked with how terrible he sounded. Din exhaled and fell onto his side dramatically, the child only a few inches away from his chest. The little one’s large dark eyes followed him quietly. He couldn’t help but smile at his absurdity.

“I hope,” he said between sniffs, “you’re having fun.”

The child didn’t respond.

Din crudely pushed his helmet off with one hand, as the other was pinned under his body, and dug his bare head into the snow. He pulled more from around the child onto his snotty face, up his clogged nose, through his greasy hair, and into his dry mouth. Despite his obvious personal and cultural attachments to his signature beskar headwear, it was truly blissful to feel the snow on his feverish skin. He sneezed and relished the freedom of watching all the nastiness float away in the mountain breeze instead of breathing it back in.

The child watched closely as Din scrubbed his face and hair with snow. He had started to see the Mandalorian without the helmet only recently. It had taken the child a few nights of confused crying to finally understand that nice metal dad and the tan hairy face were the same person. The baby still felt uneasy though, since the man never had the helmet off for very long besides sleeping, and he always seemed terribly nervous about it. His adoptive father looked pretty happy this time though... The child cooed for attention.

The Mandalorian ruffled through his hair to get the snow out while eyeing the kid.

With his free hand, he made a rough snowball and set it on the baby’s chest with a smirk to see what he would do. At first the child giggled, but he began to whine as he couldn’t bite it or pick it up. Din pinched some snow between his fingers for the kid to eat. However, the child was adamant, presumably about touching it himself with his constrained little hands.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, no.” He felt uneasy about unwrapping the child in this wintry hell. There were so many things that could go wrong, and the kid was definitely not wearing proper cold-weather attire. Din continued to shake his head no as he dragged the underside of his arm against his wet nose.

The child wasn’t listening and continued to escalate the whining fit as he tried to violently wriggle out of his warm cocoon prison.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” the Mandalorian murmured, pulling the child closer in an attempt to calm him. The baby began to cry in frustration, shaking and wheezing as it sobbed. Din felt his heart lurch watching the poor little thing cry so hard.

“... Alright, alright, here,” he spoke as calmly as he could in his defeat, unraveling the cloak to the point where it was simply a loose blanket. The child softened slightly but was worked up beyond the point of being satiated by touching the snowball. The bounty hunter slumped back into the snow, the child still shaking and crying as it laid on his beskar chestplate.

Din had one more idea, but… It was something he hadn’t done in a long time. Intuition, or something else deep inside of him, told him he needed to. That it would help, that it was natural. It wasn’t natural for a Mandalorian, though.

No matter what was natural or not, Din couldn’t bear to see the child crying like this. He pulled the bundle towards his neck for a tight embrace and quickly kissed the baby’s forehead. The child suddenly went silent as the bounty hunter pulled a few inches away, both of them in shock.

Din pulled the corners of his mouth apart in nervous terror, thinking that he surely did something wrong. The baby’s eyes, still brimming with tears, were unflinchingly glued to the Mandalorian’s. The child made a short, questioning babble, emphasizing the end with a long blink.

“Wh… What does that mean?” Din whispered honestly, tearing up himself.

The child cooed expectantly.

Din paused in doubt, before craning down slightly to give the child another forehead kiss. He held onto this one for longer by some force of instinct, and the baby hummed.

The Mandalorian pulled away again and saw the baby’s eyes flutter happily. He set his head back in the snow with a blank expression on his face. The child chirped and began to bat at the snow with tiny fists.

After a few moments of reflecting on what he’d just done, Din was still speechless. He brought a trembling hand to his own face and brushed lightly over his nose and lips, fingers finding their way to pick at the stubble on his jawline. He hadn’t kissed or been kissed since that morning, so many years ago, right before his parents… Outside of the basement doors, right there. The last time he’d ever seen them, the last time he... Din dug his palms into his eyes, trying to physically block out the images and feelings that were rushing back to him.

“No, no no, noo…,” he whispered to himself. His eyes watered and the tightness in his chest felt like it could burst.

“Nope,” the bounty hunter said weakly, but with a strong resolve, as he sat up suddenly. “We’re moving on.”

The child yelped as the Mandalorian haphazardly re-wrapped him, albeit not as tightly as before. Din wiped the inside of his helmet clean with some snow and his cloak. He glanced down at the small green face looking up at him from the crook of his elbow, and then back to the helmet. He squeezed his eyes shut, tight enough so that he could hear the strain in his muscles and see only white flashes. Din quickly gave the child one last quick peck on the forehead before opening his tired eyes and donning his beskar once more.

Weather moves in without warning at these altitudes. What was once a freezing, but bright, cloudless night became a dark, snowy one with snowflakes the size of five-hundred credit ingots. The beam from Din’s helmet light lit up the snow like stars, crashing and blowing every which way against him as he tried to stay strong. His focus kept him from succumbing to the weariness of his feverish body or the memories of the past that dug at the back of his mind. It had only been another fifteen or twenty minutes since the clan of two had resumed their journey up the mountain when they came upon the entrance of the temple ruins.

The Mandalorian pressed his back against the frozen stone wall that circled the area, taking a moment to prepare himself for whatever he may find inside. He pulled up on the cloth covering the child’s face to find it sleeping peacefully. He smiled softly and sighed, hoping that nothing he was about to do would wake his little one.

Din entered the temple grounds defensively, scanning the area with his blaster and the child held closely to his side. He didn’t see any heat signatures on his visor amongst the village surrounding the temple itself, but perhaps he would find something of interest inside what structures remained. He approached one of the huts that still had a semi-intact thatch roof, finding a shelf with various bits of pottery and paper scraps, wicker baskets, and a burned charcoal pit on the ground. In the roofless hut next door, he found a loom and a half-finished robe that had been bleached by time and exposure. The village was quiet and unmoving save for fluttering crystals and the crunch of snow under his boots, but to Din, that silence was overwhelming. The empty doorways left ajar, the bowls forgotten on tables with what may have once been filled with a meal untouched, the fallen mitten waiting for a hand to keep warm. What happened here seemed all too familiar, too much like his worst dreams. It was what was left behind after something terrible.

He holstered his blaster and sprinted towards the temple in the center of all the ruins of these people’s -- of Din’s and his parents’ -- once peaceful lives. He could nearly hear the murmurs, the clinking of metal tools, the sizzle of grills, the soft babble of discussions, the banality and domesticity of the souls that once called this place home. And now it was cursed and empty, devoid of all life and filled with a terrible silence. It was everything he always feared his old home had become. A cold reminder of thousands of tears, stuck in a place that time left behind and was doomed to never be happy again. The Mandalorian had assumed this fate, all but resigned himself to bear the burden of being the one who had to carry these painful memories to his grave.

His run slowed before he stopped completely on the stairs leading to the temple proper, and stood still. “I can’t keep doing this,” he told himself softly under his breath. He turned around to face the ruined village and sat on the stair steps. “I can’t,” he repeated, taking a moment to inhale... and exhale.

Tears burned down Din’s cheeks as he allowed his memories to play out in his mind’s eye as he looked over the village before him. The good memories, of early mornings when he wanted to play with the other children but his mother made him eat breakfast first. Memories of the sweet cadence of his mother’s voice when she sang to him in the bath. Of him laughing and sitting on his father’s shoulders as they shopped at the bazaar. But also, the bad memories… memories of the bazaar aflame and besieged. The memory of his parent’s tearful goodbyes. These memories, good and bad, made him feel even worse, as he couldn’t even fully remember what his parents looked like anymore. Just hazy figures in blood red clothes, shutting him inside the cellar doors.

Letting the past wash over him and drown him in its weight and loss and sorrow felt terrible, but… Din also felt better, in a way, to let it out. The child awoke to find himself tucked underneath his father’s chin, with trembling arms wrapped tightly around him. He let out a squeak and crawled closer into the Mandalorian’s scarf.

“I’m sorry,” Din whispered as he pulled the child away from his neck and down into his lap. The helmet once again came off, but only briefly so that he could dry his cheeks and wipe his nose. The child wriggled his arms free from the loose cloth, waving to be picked up. Din smiled as he rubbed his tender eyes. He leaned down to kiss the child’s nose, letting his thoughts run free, before replacing his helmet and obliging the child’s desire.

The child giggled blissfully, lovingly looking up at the Mandalorian as the mythosaur pendant poked out of the cloth around his neck. Little green hands opened and closed expectantly.

“Anything for you,” Din said softly as he pulled the infant close and stood back up, facing away from the village. He tucked the child back into his left shoulder, turning his head to the side as an extra support as they ascended the stairs to the temple. The child purred and began to babble excitedly.

Din smiled playfully, his smile tugging at his still raw eyes. “Oh, you don’t say?”

The temple’s engraved wooden doors were on the floor and splintered in the middle, as if they’d been rammed down. The Mandalorian carefully stepped over the carved faces of stalwart protectors and the swirls of a written language he had never seen before, aiming his blaster and headlamp into the depths of the darkness ahead. The temple was pitch black inside, save the one beam of light. The child’s continued babbles echoed off the ceilings above, which the bounty hunter noticed were covered in an intricate web of peeling paint.

“Is there anyone here?” Din asked, his modulated voice rippling off the stone walls again and again. He knew it was unlikely, as there still weren’t any heat signatures, but there could always be droids.

After a few moments of silence, he holstered his blaster and began to rifle through a nearby bookshelf. Every book, every page, everything was written in this unfamiliar language. The font was like water, squiggly lines or swirls flowing from one line to the next. Din searched through every book for something he could recognize: a different language, a picture, a doodle in the margins, anything. He found nothing on every bookshelf, table, and altar.

“Seriously?” Din felt his temper rising and he suppressed the urge to turn one of the old wooden tables into a bonfire with a simple flick of his wrist.

Having cleared the main temple area, he walked along the edges, brushing his free hand against the walls. The cold from the stone seeped into his glove, until, it suddenly didn’t. Din backtracked, realizing that part of the stone wall was painted wood, with a small metal handle near the floor, and was covered in the same peeling pattern as the ceiling. This was the first closed door he’d seen in this whole cursed place and it set him on edge.

The bounty hunter needed both of his hands, one to open the door and one for his blaster, but he didn’t want to risk setting the child down in the cold pitch blackness of the temple. Din pulled the full length of his cloak over his shoulder, wrapping the child in it and then tucking the remainder snugly in his tool belt. Using a rope from his small messenger sack, he secured the make-shift baby sling to his beskar chestplate.

“You good?” he whispered.

The child cooed softly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Din crouched down to the metal handle, his finger on the trigger of his blaster. He took in a deep breath before pulling up on the handle, -- harder than he expected he’d have to -- which caused the wooden panel to swung up wildly.

A dark figure came forward out of the opening, seeming to lunge at Din. The Mandalorian’s instincts pulled him sideways, to protect the child strapped to his chest, and he didn’t hesitate to repay the figure in equal violence with his blaster. A familiar red flash momentarily filled the room with light. The body fell down to the floor and silence returned.

Immediately, Din knew that this was a corpse, and quickly turned the baby around in the sling so that it was facing his chest. The corpse was of a human woman, with bluish-gray skin and far too gaunt to have been alive anytime recently. She was wearing a robe similar to the unfinished one he’d seen earlier, except this one was brown and untouched by the elements behind the safety of this faux wall.

He turned his attention to the mysterious hidden cove. However, it was nothing more than a small closet with some empty jugs and pots, nothing more.

“Of course,” Din sighed.

The bounty hunter came back to the corpse, which had fallen face down after he’d shot her. It was curious, these were the only remains he’d seen. Although, with animal scavengers and the thick blanket of snow covering everything, he really couldn’t be surprised. He grabbed her stiff shoulders and flipped the corpse over. He was taken aback by how… alive she looked, besides the color of her skin. Her jet black hair still looked so soft and her features were frozen by the cold; her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth in a grimace as her lips contracted over her teeth. He noticed two blaster shots: one from him just now on her neck, and the one that killed her however many years ago on her stomach. Din wondered if his own corpse may have been similarly discovered in that cellar years later, in some alternate timeline where the Mandalorians hadn’t saved him from the super battle droid.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the woman’s hands, frozen around what she clutched onto in her last moments. Her right hand held a metal tube, a grip of sorts, that had a couple buttons and a small blue glowing crystal on the inside. Din wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he pried the corpse’s fingers off the tube regardless. He carefully stowed it away into his messenger pack next to a few books he saved, one of the many with the water-like writing. He could figure out what it all meant later.

Her left hand held a crumpled piece of paper, yellowed by time and the decay of her flesh. The Mandalorian carefully removed the paper and opened it. “Would you look at that,” he said to himself, finding the words on the page were written in Basic.

Margraeth, my sweetling. They are coming. Good-bye.

May the Force be with you.

All my love, L

Din read over the note again and again, mildly interested in the questions it brought but frustrated with its lack of answers or, frankly, its relevance to what he’d come here to find. Whoever wrote this, L he supposed, knew what fate was coming for this temple. L knew they were all going to die. How? And who were They, where were they coming from? What was this Force? But most importantly, to Din at least, did all of these Jedi sorcerers really leave nothing behind but ruins and rubble, except for books in a dead language and this one little meaningless scrap of paper? He read the note one last time, searching for some kind of clue that he wasn’t going to find, before folding it back up carefully and tucking it into one of the water books.

A deep sigh escaped him, seeming to come from his very soul. Din was so very tired, and wholly discouraged. This was his first non-bounty hunting mission, where the priority was his foundling, and he felt that it had all failed miserably. He shivered in the cold dampness of the temple and sneezed. The child chirped in response, appearing to be cozy and warm. Unfortunately, the beskar chestplate between them prevented the Mandalorian from sharing in that warmth.

Din glanced back down at the woman’s corpse, before he walked back out towards the village. His thoughts stayed on her, though. The remains of Margraeth, an enemy Jedi sorcerer who died of a blaster wound from some unknown They, who surely had powers like those wielded by his foundling. The power which continued to be a mystery, since not one damned thing in these frozen ruins had given him anyth --

“The power…” he said aloud, trying to connect his thoughts. He found a fairly intact hut, with a roof and functional doors and windows. Once inside, gloved fingers worked at the knots in the rope securing the child to his chest. Din pulled the baby out, holding it in front of his helmet in the light to gauge his responses.

“They are coming,” Din said with a straight face.

The child didn’t respond really, just suckled on his own finger.

“May the Force be with you.”

The child blew a raspberry and giggled, perking his ears.

“May the Force be with you?” Din repeated, his voice going up an octave at the end.

The child didn’t appear to respond with any certainty, continuing to blow raspberries.

The Mandalorian sighed in defeat. He thought he was onto something, but there was really no way to be sure. And in any case, his foundling did best when there are few expectations. Trying to elicit some omniscient response from a magic baby was just foolish, but Din wasn’t keeping up with appearances, so what did it matter?

The hut was made suitable for their overnight stay with a few paddings of the drafty windows and doors, and a nice fire. The water and food rations he had taken along were finished off with a satisfactory burp from father and son. It was all Din could do to not let his mind drift to who used to live here or the last time the fire pit had been used. After taking the empty jetpack off his back, he settled in for an uneasy bout of sleep on the cold dirt floor with the child cooing softly from the bed of cloaks and cloths beside him.

Only a handful of hours later, the bright daylight and its even brighter reflections off of the snow kept Din from getting any more rest, even if he’d wanted it. The trek down the mountain was impressively easier than going up, with the Mandalorian and his sleeping charge making it back to the Razor Crest just at midday.

“Ohhh,” Din hummed, glad to see that nothing had happened to his ship. For once.

After closing the cargo bay doors, Din jumped up to the cockpit and turned on the auxiliary solar generator for lights and to heat the cabin space up. He had meant to turn right around towards the Crest’s small kitchen, but noticed a few blinking communication lights. He sighed, setting the child down in his regular spot, so that he could catch up.

A few flicks of switches on the comm panel, and he was connected with whoever wanted to talk to him so badly.

“Mando?” asked a familiar voice.

“Greef,” Din responded blankly, but kindly.

“Ah, Mando, finally! I found another lead on this Jedi business. Why don’t you come back to Nevarro and we can talk details?”

Din rubbed the back of his neck while he mulled over his words, slowly turning left in his seat towards the child. “Right now?”

“Well, sure, why not? You can also come see our progress in rebuilding the guild! Cara has some fun things to show you from the scavenging she’s been doing.”

“But I…” Din trailed off as he continued to look at his foundling, feeling equally tired but content. “I can come back in a few days, probably a week.”

“What?” Greef exclaimed, which caused the child to wake. The baby immediately saw that they were back home and reached his arms out, bubbly and happy and pure. “Don’t you go disappearing on me again. We just --”

Din smiled underneath his helmet, holding his finger over the power button for his communication feeds. “Sorry, gotta go. Something came up.”

#the mandalorian #mandadlorian #mando #din djarin #baby yoda #the child #fanfiction #no romance #fluff and angst #parent-child relationship #snow planet #sick fic #talking to babies #din deserves a break but not today #he's such a good dad guys #good fic #i worked hard on this

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elven-oracle · 5 years

Text

under the rose: part 4|th

moodboard by @mcuspidey will be linked very soon<3

SUMMARY: Would you do anything for the person you love?

Would you do anything for the person you lust?

PAIRING: Agent!Tom Holland x Agent!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNINGS: SMUT

sub rosa: adjective and adverb. formal. happening or done in secret. directly translated from latin: “under the rose.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Part 4: Do Anything

You walked hand-in-hand with Tom on the way out the door at the end of the night, not bothering to unlink once you were out of sight as you normally did. This time, it was only for a moment when you parted to get into the car, and as soon as you sat down, you felt his hands around your waist and his lips on your neck, and as miraculous as that felt-

“We have to wait. Debrief, car ride, your apartment,” you turned and faced him, and placed a longing kiss on his lips, slowly parting. With a nod, he inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car, driving towards the agency. You could feel the vibrations of ardor radiating throughout the car, a reverberating hum that didn’t want to relent. His hand found its way to your thigh, slowly moving up, until a swift gasp brought it to a halt, a twinkle in his eye telling him that he knew what was in your future.

The debriefing was no more interesting than it had been the previous days you had spent completing your mission. A part of you had a bit of regret for having your mind so distracted on your partner instead of your work, but you had always had a knack for balance, and keeping up with your work while maintaining a...side mission was not going to compromise anything. It couldn’t. You wouldn’t allow it.

But you still couldn’t help feeling the edge that you wanted to jump over so terribly. Next to you, Tom was bouncing his leg, not something he usually did. On a normal day, he was his typical, suave self, nonchalantly navigating his way through these nightly meetings with an air of relaxation that would drive you up a wall when you first met him. His professionalism was low, with you on the opposite side of the spectrum, but tonight he appeared to be rushing through the questions, going through the motions, and eagerly trying to force the meeting to a close.

You let your hand wander over to his jittery left leg, and without being seen, you placed on his thigh, giving him a look, forcing him to relax, as if he didn’t want you to know that he was yearning to leave. You flashed him your eyes for a moment before trying to regain your focus on the agency’s director continuing to speak and set up a course of action for the days coming. It wasn’t anything new; keep observing, take note of important comments, don’t get killed, and don’t get caught.

“Oh, and Agent Y/L/N, we’ll want you to start your physical therapy as soon as you are healed to make a smooth recovery.”

“Of course,” you smiled a sickly sweet smile, just wishing that everything could wrap itself up.

“You two are free to go. Keep up the good work, we’re thankful that you two have befriended each other, it’s helped your chemistry immensely.”

Oh yes, you had just befriended him, and nothing more.

Apparently, there was more than one mission you were looking to keep sub rosa.

You were kissing him again when you got in the car again, your hands tracing the curve of his sharp jaw, and you were startled when he pulled away, taking your wrist in his hand and dragging it down. Your eyebrows furrowed, but all was explained when he pointed to the security camera placed at the perfect angle of the car. He was on the DL as well. You pecked his lips and pleasantly sat in your seat, hoping that he didn’t live too far away.

He lived uptown, about 20 minutes away, and you felt every single minute like the clock was ticking inside your chest. When he pulled into the driveway of a large, suburbian-style house, you almost laughed. It wasn’t the type of place you expected one of the world’s best agents to reside. It looked as if it belonged to a family of five, with a dog yapping and a well-used playset sitting in the backyard.

Those thoughts were shoved away as you took his hand and followed him to the doorstep. As soon as you passed through the doorway, you were pressed into the nearby wall, a lustful kiss reaching your lips as he pressed his hands into your hips. You felt yourself inhale quickly has his lips smoothly moved from your lips to your neck, trailing down to the base. He was sucking hard, an attempt to give you a hickey, but you didn’t care. It was intense the way the minute pain made you feel, and you could hardly help the small release in your vocal cords as you shut your eyes and buried your fingers into his hair.

It wasn’t long before your denim jacket had fallen onto the floor, and you were moving to the kitchen, his trajectory set on the mini island in the center of the room. You hopped up onto it, pulling his torso in between your legs, begging to feel him even closer than you had before. Now your fingers combed across his jaw, pulling him in. You desperately wanted to kiss him again, but he had other motives. Instead, he moved back to your neck, now having better access from the height the counter was giving you. He sucked, slowly, just below your ear, before trailing kisses farther down and reaching your exposed collarbone.

Your hand returned to his hair, the other delicately tracing his neck, your red fingernails clasping around the back. He smelled of his strong, character-defining cologne: Johnny’s cologne. It was a thick smell that you had only recently grown to enjoy, a safe smell, and it was all over you.

Your lips parted, “This shouldn’t be allowed, Agent Y/L/N,” his breath was hot against your neck.

“Agent Holland, you bend the rules too frequently to be saying that.”

And you were back at it, legs wrapped around his waist, sliding your shoes off and feeling them clammer onto the floor. His hands moved with grace and intelligence, an experience you had never known, sliding up the skin-tight tube top and onto your breast, a slight expulsion of air releasing from your system. His thumb was gently circling your nipple, and you were chewing on your bottom lip in utter excitement.

But it only took you a second to notice that he was in complete control, and you couldn’t have that.

You slid down from off the counter, playfully shoving him back, watching as the bulky leather jacket found its way off his shoulders. In one pull, you were able to rip the white tank from his chest, the tear of the fabric piercing the silent air that had only been filled by both of your surging breaths. His expression was of surprise, not expecting to have his clothes torn from him. He was standing bare-chested in the moonlit kitchen, the beams reflecting off the curves of his muscles in his chest and stomach, shiny with a small sheen of sweat. He was beautiful, thaumaturgic, demonly and heavenly all at once. His mussed curls had fallen recklessly across his forehead, his brown eyes tracing every inch of your body approaching him.

You were with him again now, kissing his jaw, your hand falling onto the waistband of his jeans, his member pressing into your leg.

“Hard on me already, Holland?”

“You do terrible things to me, Agent.”

“I’ve saved your life three times over, Johnny.”

“Rose, I only want to speak with Y/N, she means much more to me than you, darling.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks, your racing heart only picking up speed.

He picked you up, leaving you in surprise, throwing you over his shoulder. He was trying to take back his control, and while you wanted it back, feeling his muscles against your skin only brought more desire to your body.

He set you down inside the master bedroom, upstairs. It was a large room, a king-size bed on the back wall, a wall of windows to your right revealing a glorious view of the city you had grown up in, the lights twinkling across the star-riddled sky.

A set of arms found their way around your body, Tom’s biceps against your bare shoulders. His head settled in the curve of your neck, taking in the view with you.

“Beautiful, right?”

“You picked a great spot.”

“And an even better woman.”

A hint of a smile on your face, you turned, pressing your hand onto his bare chest, pushing him into the direction of the bed behind you. When you pushed him onto the bed, he didn’t have the same shocked face that he had when you tore his shirt, rather, he was enthused.

Everything was flowing, one move to the next, with the flow of a river, your black jeans falling to your ankles. Crawling atop him, you buried your lips back into his, his hands moving back up your legs, no longer limited by the denim fabric that it had encountered in the car. One hand on your inner thigh, one on the curve of your ass. You pressed yourself into him, the outline of your body fitting perfectly in the silhouette of his, once again feeling his erection through his jeans.

“Time for those to come off,” you said in a low voice.

“I guess it is, isn’t it?”

You unbuttoned his jeans for him, throwing them off the bed. He responded with doing the same to your shirt, leaving your chest completely bare. You had never felt the need for a bra with tube top shirts, and now it was to Tom’s convenience. He smirked, sliding his hands up your hips, brushing a strand of hair over your shoulder and slowly making his way back onto your breast.

He leaned up, burying his face in your chest, then to the inside of your breast, and finally over your nipple, sucking lightly at first. Your back arched, your hips pressing into his, a chill running down your spine.

You found your arms locked around his neck, wanting to fill any space, any crevice that hadn’t been covered. You needed to be closer to him, you needed him as close as you could get him.

You needed to feel all of him.

Taking his face in your hand, you placed a soft kiss on his lips, then shoved him back down, taking the lace off of your bottom half and tossing it aside with the rest of your clothes. Moving to your elbows, you shifted down towards his waist, taking the band of the Calvin Klein’s into your teeth and pulling them down his toned thighs.

“Are you-”

“I can stop if-”

“Are you going to ride me?”

You smirked, “You have a problem with that?”

He was rubbing his lips together, his eyes still examining you like he had only seen you for the first time, “I’ve never…”

Tom didn’t get to finish his thought, as your tongue had taken to sliding up the side of his wand, his breath hitching, a hint of a moan falling out of his mouth. You took your time, kissing his waist, his stomach, his sternum, leaving a hickey on his collarbone, spending a while at his neck, and finally returning to his sweet lips, only pausing to embrace the feeling of him inserting himself inside of you, the closure you longed for.

Starting slow, you lifted your body up with your knees, stretching your arms to feel the bareness of his chest, his toned abs like porcelain in your hands. Up and down, you bounced, each thrust a wave of pleasure in his body. When you looked down at him, his features had softened, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open. All the tension from work had been long forgotten, tension you hadn’t even realized was there until it had vanished.

You arched back over, quickening the motion of your hips, listening for the sound of his pounding, lustful heart.

Penetrative sex had never been much help for your orgasm, and you determined that would be up to you when you get home. When Tom finished, an explosion of release and satisfaction, you fell on top of him, circling your arms around him, wanting to continue to feel his skin against yours.

“Did you…”

“No,” you mumbled, “but that’s okay.”

“What?” he sat up, bringing you with him, “No, it’s not.”

“Tom it’s really fine-”

But he had taken to kissing you again pushing your left shoulder down, so now it was you lying on your back, the feeling of his satin comforter soft against your back. Your wrists in his hands, he pinned them above your head, reinserting himself briefly, hitting the correct spot. Only, this would provide a short spot of sexual pleasure for you.

“It won’t be enough, seriously Tom, I can-”

“Say no more, love.”

He mimicked what you had done, leaving a hickey on your collarbone, kissing down your chest, kissing your hipbone, and finally, finding the magic button.

There was no stopping the audible and lengthy moan, as the feeling of his mouth on your clit sent you into a euphoria. For the first time, this was not just about your partner getting off, but you as well. Your feet on his back, he pressed on, sucking, moving his tongue in various directions, increasing the pace the louder your moans got.

Your legs were turning into jello, you felt yourself tensing, holding your breath, waiting for that feeling. A feeling no man ever had the time to give you, the tip of the roller coaster, the rush of wonderful that you wanted from Tom so badly.

It ricocheted through your body as it relaxed, the fireworks going off inside you. As you settled, you felt him suck on the inside of your legs before moving his body back to your level, pulling the sheets down, then taking you back into his arms, intertwining his bare legs with your own.

…

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke, Tom’s steady breaths were brushing the back of your neck. Turning around, you buried your face in his chest, getting a strong whiff of the safe scent you had taken note of earlier. He was warm, slightly sweaty, but incredibly comfortable.

The shifting brought his eyes to flutter open, and he placed a kiss on top of your head when noticing that you had moved.

“Can I be honest with you Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I think that I want to keep seeing you.”

Those words in that particular order almost made your heart stop. You frowned and reopened your eyes, looking up at him, his own swollen with sleep.

“What?”

“I said I think-”

“No, I heard you, but...are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

Your heart had gone from a complete stop to a sprint all at once, and you truly had no idea what to think. You had believed him when he said that he made it clear to his former hookups that it was a one-time ordeal, but hearing this, you were second-guessing his words.

“Is that what you said to all of them?”

“All of who?”

“The entire female body of our agency?”

You felt his muscles tense against your body, “No. Why would I say that to anyone else?” “Why were they always so upset when you never wanted to see them again?”

He let out a heaving sigh, “I haven’t felt this way in a long time, Y/N, can you please just believe me?”

It was difficult. You wanted to believe him. God, with everything you had you wanted to believe him, but there was the lasting image of the scoffs and the glares and the whispering that you couldn’t get out of your head. You weren’t sure if this was his tactic, if this was the way that he continued his long-lasting power trip.

Even with the newfound tension in the air, you still felt safe and happy being wrapped up in his arms, with no desire to leave. You wanted this to happen again. If you had it your way, this wouldn’t be the last night you spent drifting off in his arms.

“I’d like to see you again, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I’m not playing any games, Tom.”

“Trust me, Y/N, the only game we play is when we’re surrounded by criminals.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

M A S T E R L I S T

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#allie writes under the rose #tom holland #th #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland x y/n #agent!au #agent!reader #agent!tom holland #agent au

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bagog · 5 years

Text

Kaidan Apprecitaion Week, 2019 - Booty

Hey @spectrekaidanalenko, thanks. Iiiiiit’s smut and it’s long.

Kaidan hadn’t wanted their first time to be aboard the ship, and instead he booked a room on the Citadel. It looked out over the Presidium, the bed floating on small Mass Effect field generators: the kind of hotel room Kaidan could afford with his frugal lifestyle. The kind of comfort Shepard could scarcely imagine from his time growing up on earth.

“Look at this place!” Shepard exclaimed, walking into the suite, Kaidan in tow, hand in his hand. “I haven’t seen a room like this outside a galactic arms dealer’s house!”

“What can I say?” Kaidan stepped behind him and wrapped an arm around Shepard’s chest, pressing a kiss into the nape of his neck. “I want the best for you.” He gave a throaty chuckle that made Shepard shudder.

“Here I thought you’d be getting us a quick-fuck-motel-room on Zakeera ward.”

“You didn’t really think that, did you?” Kaidan nuzzled against the back of Shepard’s ear, breathing in his scent. “You didn’t think I’d treat you right after waiting so long to get ahold of you?” He whispered, as if there were an audience he didn’t want to hear, accustomed to always being surrounded by people. Out the window, the blue band of sky ringing the Presidium lit the room in glorious daylight, the cars outside speeding past, not a soul looking in on the couple. They were finally alone. Gloriously alone.

“How long have you wanted me?” Shepard smirked as he asked, letting his body melt back into Kaidan’s, tilting his head so Kaidan could lay soft kisses onto the goosebumps forming on his neck. Kaidan made him feel warm inside, Kaidan gave him the chills.

“I’ve known I love you for a long time,” Kaidan said softly. “And as for how long I’ve wanted to see you like this? Leaning up against me,” Kaidan kissed his jawline, “Ready to take me to bed,” another kiss to the nape of his neck, “How long I’ve imagined throwing you down on the mattress… longer than that.”

Shepard wriggled against Kaidan, almost letting out an audible moan at the admission.

“I never knew you had it in you. Imagining your commanding officer… like that.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know, then,” Kaidan’s hand slid down to the expanse of Shepard’s chest, slipping his hand under the leather jacket and feeling Shepard’s hard muscle through the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re never gonna doubt again that I want you. Like that.” The word hung in the air as Kaidan continued to feel Shepard up, one hand on his waist, pulling Shepard against him by hooking a thumb into the belt-loops on his jeans. Shepard turned in his arms and took Kaidan’s face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips into Kaidan’s.

The kiss was passionate and slow, Kaidan’s tongue thick against his own. Breathing in the scent of Kaidan’s cologne in the gasps between more hungry kisses. Kaidan tilted his head to the side, opened his lips to capture Shepard’s, then quickly tilted his head to the other side, surprising Shepard with his forwardness. Shepard groaned into Kaidan’s mouth and let his hand travel down his lover’s body, cupping his ass firmly in both hands until he could feel Kaidan hard against him.

“What do you want to do to me?” Shepard asked, breathless as he pulled back.

“I can tell you, or I can show you.” Kaidan let just the tips of his fingers slip into the back waistband of Shepard’s jeans. Shepard felt the muscles in Kaidan’s ass flex as he ground his hard-on into Shepard’s. He had watched that ass more times than he could count, staring as they dressed for combat—or undressed for a shower. Kaidan’s ass in his uniform, filling out the standard issue trousers in a way that made Shepard’s cock stir. But he never dreamed he’d have it in his hands like this.

“I bet you can do both.”

Kaidan raised an eyebrow, his smile twisting into a hungry smirk.

“I want to put you on that bed,” Kaidan turned Shepard back around, letting his fingers trail down the stubble on Shepard’s throat. “I’m going to put you on that bed. I’m going to strip you down and take my time looking at every inch of you: the man I’ve wanted for so long. The man I love.” He pulled Shepard’s chin until he could lay a sensual kiss against the corner of his lips. He was whispering again, and Shepard was spellbound. “I’m going to feel your body,” and he did, letting his hands wander down Shepard’s front, softly tugging up on his shirt until his could run his fingers over the trail of hair below Shepard’s navel. “I’m going to kiss you all over. I’m going to take your cock in my mouth,” his hand slipped lower and felt Shepard’s cock through the fly of his jeans. “I’m going to make you moan for me, make you feel so good.”

Shepard moaned, let his head fall back against Kaidan’s shoulder. His hands trembled as he gripped at Kaidan’s arms around him. He had never imagined this, had never dared to imagine what it would be like to be the object of Kaidan’s passion. “Kaidan…” the name slipped from his tongue, the plea so much louder than the promises Kaidan was whispering in his ear.

“I’m going to lift your legs up, kiss my way down your thighs. I’m going to take my tongue to that perfect ass of yours. I’m going to eat you out, get you ready.” The final word came out as half a growl and Shepard’s hips bucked back against’ Kaidan’s as if they had a mind of their own. Shepard was overwhelmed, and he tried to reach around to put his hand between them, to grope for Kaidan’s crotch, but Kaidan wouldn’t allow them to separate a single inch. “Shh, let me take care of you,” Kaidan muttered, his voice still a wanton rasp.

“You’re making me feel… so good, Kaidan.”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Kaidan breathed, letting his breath tickly the fine hairs on the shell of Shepard’s ear. “I’m going to show you how much I need you.”

“Fuck, Kaidan.”

“Do you want that?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Kaidan stepped back just enough to slip Shepard’s jacket off his shoulders. It crumpled to the floor, and Shepard almost went with it, so drunk on the feeling of Kaidan’s strong body holding him close: weak at the knees. “Now, we’ve got a big room. We don’t have to do this in the entry-way.”

“I feel bad messing up that bed.”

“That’s what it’s there for.”

“Show me,” Shepard looked back over his shoulder with a grin. He would let Kaidan take care of him. Giving in would feel so good. He pried himself from Kaidan’s grasp and sauntered over to the bed, feeling Kaidan’s eyes on his body.

Kaidan chuckled behind him, and when Shepard turned back around, Kaidan’s shirt was unbuttoned to his navel, already a fine sheen of sweat making the division between his pecs stand out in the artificial daylight. Shepard almost rushed back to run his tongue between those muscles, to drop to his knees…

Kaidan strutted forward, pulling at the hem of Shepard’s shirt until he could tug it off his body and drop it to the floor, leaving a trail of Shepard’s clothes between the door and the bed. When Shepard’s torso was naked, Kaidan’s eyes turned dark, drinking in the sight before him. Shepard had never been so completely devoured by a man’s gaze before. Kaidan flashed his teeth in a wordless groan when he took one of Shepard’s nipples between thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth while Shepard grasped at his shoulders for purchase.

When Kaidan stepped forward, Shepard felt the back of his knees make contact with the edge of the mattress, and Kaidan impishly pushed him over onto the bed. Kaidan took in the sight of him sprawled on the bed, breathing heavy and slow. He began to strip out of his own clothes and Shepard took that as his cue to unbuckle his belt, kick off his shoes, and pull his pants down. His cock was straining the fabric of his black briefs, the cool air against his hot skin made him shiver. Or maybe it was the way Kaidan’s lips parted in desire when Shepard was exposed before him.

Kaidan pulled his shirt hem out of his pants. Shepard couldn’t help but lean forward, licking a stripe up the crevices of Kaidan’s abs. His hands gripped at Kaidan’s ass again, taking in the firmness and the give, pulling his lover in until his face was pressed hard against the planes of Kaidan’s body.

“I love your ass, Kaidan. Turns me on so much.”

“Yeah? You like?” Kaidan asked, tipping Shepard’s chin up till he looked him in the eye.

“I love it. I dream about it,” Shepard rushed to reply. It was a lie, though, he had never hoped to have Kaidan like this, had never let his mind wander there. Oh, but he had looked. How he had stared. How he had wanted to let himself believe the man could want him in that way.

“You’re going to show me exactly what you dream about, understood?” Kaidan demanded, pulling his shirt from his body and toeing off his boots. Shepard nodded dumbly and reached up with his tongue to taste one of the firm nubs of Kaidan’s nipple. Kaidan hissed and pressed on the back of Shepard’s neck. Once Kaidan’s chest was shining from Shepard’s ministrations, he took two steps back and thrust his hips forward, Shepard could see the outline of his hard cock beneath the uniform, pressed tightly against Kaidan’s hip. Kaidan unbuttoned the pants and turned around. Even with his pants unbuttoned, those thighs and that ass kept his uniform pants up. Kaidan needed to shimmy them down in tandem with his underwear, and did so slowly, letting the fabric slide over his ass, slowly revealing it in its naked glory to Shepard.

“You’re so beautiful, Kaidan,” Shepard breathed, needing to lean back on his elbows on the bed, eyes wide and taking in the sight being revealed to him.

“Beautiful?” Kaidan smirked over his shoulder, his pants now tucked under the globes of his ass. “Thank you.” He had to bend over to take his pants all the way off, and Shepard gasped at the sight before him: Kaidan’s ass on full display, heavy balls hanging down between his thighs. When Kaidan turned around, his cock was jutting out from his body, pointing straight at Shepard.

“Shit,” Shepard swore under his breath.

“It doesn’t seem fair that I’m naked and you’re still wearing your briefs, now, does it? Shepard gaped for a moment, then reached down with trembling hands to take off his briefs. “No,” Kaidan interjected, taking a step forward. “Let me.” He reached down and hooked the tips of his fingers into the waistband. Shepard lifted his hips off the bed and let his lover strip him naked in one fluid motion. Kaidan threw the briefs behind him as if in victorious celebration, then kneeled on the bed, legs on either side of Shepard’s thighs, and pulled the man into a deep kiss. Shepard needed to strain his neck to reach, and was rewarded by the feeling of Kaidan’s soft lips ravaging his mouth. His hands reached out to Kaidan’s ass again, letting him grind his cock against Shepard’s body, leaving a wet spot against his chest.

“You’re perfect, Kaidan,” he said when they finally came up for air. “I love you.” It was so easy to say, now, even though it had been unthinkable just a few weeks ago when Kaidan had confessed his feelings in Apollo’s. It was as if he had loved Kaidan for years and never allowed himself to admit it, even to himself. Now here he was, making love to the man he had entrusted his life to so many times.

“I love you,” Kaidan replied, shuffling forward on his knees until Shepard was forced to raise himself up and scramble fully onto the mattress. Kaidan drank in the sight. Shepard felt his face become hot at the attention, the way Kaidan’s cock bobbed as he gazed at Shepard’s every inch: scanning over his powerful shoulders, down his muscled chest, the faint trail of hair that led from Shepard’s navel to the base of his cock. When he looked back in Shepard’s eye, his own amber eyes were hot with passion. Kaidan leaned down and pressed a kiss to Shepard’s lips, leaving him wanting more when he turned his attention to Shepard’s chest, trailing kisses down Shepard’s body, reveling in the feel of Shepard’s heavy breathing pressing against his lips.

He gripped Shepard’s thighs like a vice, and leaned forward until the tip of Shepard’s cock pressed wet against his lips. His tongue came out and he swirled it around the head, then flattened his tongue against Shepard’s shaft. He mouthed down to the base, then licked his way back up. Winking up the bed at Shepard, he lowered his mouth onto his cock. Shepard threw his head back when he felt the warmth of Kaidan’s mouth surround him. Kaidan sucked softly, feeling Shepard’s hard cock throb against his tongue, then after a few minutes of slow strokes, took Shepard into his throat and sucked him down to the hilt. Shepard moaned wantonly and reached out to run his fingers through Kaidan’s hair, the styled locks giving him a perfect handhold to pull Kaidan back down onto him every time he bobbed back up. The wet sound his cock made going back and forth into Kaidan’s mouth was absolutely sinful, as was the gasp he made when Kaidan took him to the root again and licked at his balls.

Kaidan gently fondled Shepard’s balls, as if he could feel them churning with the need that had been building in Shepard since he first felt that mouth around him. One of Kaidan’s fingers tickled the fine hairs behind his balls, pressing until it found Shepard’s entrance, softly circling it and testing the give. That made Shepard’s body go rigid, spreading his legs in invitation for Kaidan to go deeper.

“Dammit, Kaidan,” Shepard cried out when Kaidan swallowed around the head of his cock again, “I don’t think I can hold it!”

“Cum for me,” Kaidan said, whispered words against Shepard’s spit-shined shaft.

“I want you to fuck me, though.” It almost came out as a whine.

“There’ll be time for that,” Kaidan’s gaze was sparking in the light of the Presidium sunshine streaming through the window. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Kaidan…” Shepard sighed. Kaidan popped one finger in his mouth and sucked it slick, then pushed it against Shepard’s entrance again. When he slipped in to the knuckle, he groaned almost as loud as Shepard did. He sucked on Shepard’s balls, growling at the way Shepard’s cock dripped above him. He reached between his own legs and began fisting his own cock. Shepard tried to prop himself up to get a better view, but he could barely keep his eyes open from the pleasure wracking his body.

“Gonna sink deep into you,” Kaidan said breathlessly as he neared his own release, hand sliding up and down his hard cock. “Can’t wait to feel how tight you are for me, Shepard. All mine. Feel you grabbing at my ass while I thrust into you harder, feel you pulling me in. All yours.”

Shepard let out a strangled cry, and just in time: Kaidan sank his mouth back onto his cock just as he came, tasting Shepard flooding his mouth. Kaidan choked for a moment and then was shooting his own load as well. Shepard fell boneless back to the mattress chest rising and falling in great, heaving breaths. He babbled incoherently, couldn’t stop himself, needed Kaidan to know what he was doing to him. When he began to grow soft in Kaidan’s mouth, his lover drew himself back up to lay against Shepard’s body. Shepard could taste himself on Kaidan’s lips.

“That was perfect,” Shepard moaned when their lips parted. Kaidan turned over to fall onto his back next to Shepard, and the two entwined their fingers as they both waited for their breathing to slow.

“All yours,” Kaidan repeated, bringing Shepard’s hand to his lips for a light kiss.

“And I’m all yours,” Shepard replied, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He yawned loudly, feeling like he had completely emptied himself. “You’re sure we can’t do that on the ship?”

“I never said we couldn’t do it on the ship,” Kaidan smiled, “I just said I wanted our first time to be special.”

“Well, that was special,” Shepard yawned again.

“Shh, go to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“Will you be ready to do that again?”

“And so much more.”

#fanfic #mass effect #KaidanWeek2019 #mshenko #smut #I don't often post smut #I'm nervous #this is probably too long for tumblr #should I put this on AO3?#I never know

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