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kookiesjoonies · 4 years

Text

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done.

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor.

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged.

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.”

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that.

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!”

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head.

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with.

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser.

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing.

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough.

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit.

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible.

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care.

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth.

“What did you just say?”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.”

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response.

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already.

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.”

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself.

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again.

“I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm.

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.”

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons.

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side.

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life.

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only.

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on.

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders.

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled.

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook.

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that.

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you.

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs.

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling.

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.”

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?”

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this.

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.”

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same.

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable.

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.”

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard.

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors.

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.”

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping.

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.”

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up.

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out.

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you.

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.”

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria.

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit.

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers.

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded.

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source.

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful.

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone.

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him.

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time.

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away.

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth.

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.”

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled.

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling.

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all.

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.”

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest.

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed.

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned.

You smiled at him, eyes half open.

“This feels like a dream.”

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you.

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts.

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was.

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened.

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!”

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you.

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you.

“But, I wanted to make you cum.”

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.”

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now.

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?”

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut.

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…”

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right.

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head.

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.”

Just him.

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction.

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half.

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out.

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it.

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions.

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay.

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process.

You moaned quietly at the sight.

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone.

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps.

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.”

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube.

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock.

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created.

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often.

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity.

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed.

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth.

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end.

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had.

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could.

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm.

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior.

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth.

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond.

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying.

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this.

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content.

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek.

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you.

This was it, you thought.

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

Ｍｅ/Ｙｏｕ

📎Word Count: 1.9k

📎Warning/s: smut! MINORS DNI. toxic relationship dynamics <3 facefucking, sloppy blowjob, facial (not the skincare one), spitting in mouth, biting?, name calling, cheating/affair (bucky cheats), mean!bucky ig, toxic & manipulative!reader (she coerces bucky into cheating... so), alcohol mention, very very very brief sam x reader was mentioned

📎A/N: this was supposed to be a quick drabble but the fic practically wrote itself sooooooo @babyboibucky @sarge-barnes-sir @borikenlove this one’s for my hoes 💛✨

📎reblogs & comments are always welcomed!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The stage lit up as the band finished with a flourish. A roar of cheers and applause vibrates through the entire room, breaking the sweaty and the smoky atmosphere of the bar.

Patrons milled around with their drinks in hand. Drunk people leaning over walls and stools, waiting for their friends to come find them.

Your black-rimmed eyes scanned the room for a viable option. You slowly gaze upon the sea of bar-goers, picking out the best of the bunch.

The girl in a pleated skirt? Still giggling with her friends.

What about the man who’s been eye-fucking you since you got here? Too desperate.

There’s someone leaning over at the edge of the room, but they’re too tall for your liking.

You finished your drink with a sharp gulp, already walking towards the bar for a refill when someone caught your eye.

He looked like a sore thumb sticking out of the crowd. His hair was cropped short, a bit frazzled. A fair shade of stubble showered his sharp jaw, lining over his pink lips.

A smirk played on your painted lips, signaling the bartender for two drinks.

“Hey Sam,” you practically purred. A handsome man tending the bar leans closer to you, bringing forth a couple of shot glasses.

“It’s on the house,” Sam said, sliding a neat square of napkins over your side before placing the drink.

You tilt your head that way and smiled in lieu of thanking. A clink—half a second later, you put the empty glass facing downwards.

“Who’s the new guy?” A genuine question. The subject of the conversation sits patiently behind you, checking his phone periodically.

“A friend,” Sam carefully approaches your question, “he’s dating another friend of mine.” Sam already knows what your game is and how... unstoppable you are, for the lack of a better word.

“Well, that didn’t stop us before, did it?”

Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, beckoning him to join you and Sam by the bar.

“Hey man, what can I get ‘ya?” Sam asked his friend, laying another napkin on his end.

“Just a beer, thanks.” He’s short with words. His steely eyes darting everywhere but you.

“What’s your name?” Now you’re scooting closer, even playing up a stumble when the man behind you roared a boisterous laughter.

He then looks at you, finally, albeit hesitant, “I’m Bucky—are you okay?”

You let a small giggle out, playing coy, “Yes, Bucky, I’m okay.” You stick your hand out, a couple of silver and tungsten rings adorning your fingers.

“Nice to meet you...” Bucky prompted, his large hand engulfing yours.

“Sam’s...friend.”

“Right,” he said, letting go of your hand after a firm shake, “‘m just waiting for my girlfriend.”

Sam already moved away from your area, serving a group of girls by the far end of the bar.

“He always does that,” you pointed out. A shared tidbit of mutual interest. Bucky was close enough to get a whiff of his musky cologne. A sliver of necklace hiding beneath his black shirt.

“Yeah, that’s how I actually met him.” It was unprovoked, what he said, but you kept the conversation going.

“You were with a group of drunk girls?” Your quip made him look at you with a playfully defeated smirk, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. An act that made your thighs clench from under you.

“No, no. Well—he thought that I was some girl’s boyfriend and he gave me a free drink to ‘apologize.’”

You bring up your best laugh, flicking your hair off your shoulder. Exposing your jewelry-adorned neck to him. He gazed down to your chest before clearing his throat.

He was nervous, you—hell, anyone—could tell. His hands were stuffed in his pants, he fidgets by shifting his weight back and forth on his left foot.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him through your lashes, you were already a mere half a-foot away from him.

Bucky ran his hand through his hair impatiently, checking his phone again. Still no texts. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. My girlfriend’s just taking too long.”

You shot Sam a look before putting your hand on Bucky’s chest, “I know a place where you could wait. It’s quieter in there, you could call her.” Your tone was hopeful—a mutual acquaintance helping out a friend.

Before he knows it, Bucky’s hand was in yours as you guide him through the crowd and into a dimly lit hallway.

The wall was decorated with posters and stickers; pictures of patrons and banned people too.

“In here.” You opened a door, flicking a light switch before fully opening the way to let Bucky through. “This is a rehearsal room, the walls are lined with foam so any noise is filtered—can’t really go in and out.”

The old couch on the back was surprisingly clean and comfy, Bucky settled there as you rummaged around the mini-fridge for another drink.

“Beer?” That wasn’t really a question as you pass him a cold can, sitting down beside him.

He huffed, deft fingers dancing over the screen as he composed a longer text, “she always does this. It’s fucking annoying.”

Like the good friend you are, you scooted over to him, laying a soft hand over his shoulder for comfort.

“Hey, it’s fine. She’s just probably held up right now,” you cooed, a sweet little thing. You take a sip of a drink as he does so.

You give his broad shoulder a brief squeeze and made a face, “you’re really tense, man.”

Comically, he relaxes, letting out a breathless chuckle that sent your core fluttering. “‘m sorry. It’s just—this is our first night out in a long while.”

You hum inquisitively, propping up an arm on the backrest, “have you guys been together long?”

A beat passes before you backtracked.

“Sorry, I haven’t been in a long relationship...” You trailed off, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your pierced ear. You tentatively took another gulp of your drink, your cheeks heating up.

“No, it’s okay. We’ve been together for like, maybe three years, or so?” Bucky looks at you. God, it’s like he’s trying to read you before curating his answers. “Been a long time too.”

“Anything adventurous happening?” You teased him, Bucky’s visibly more relaxed now.

“No, nothing adventurous.” He confessed - an unknown reaction washes over his face as he says it.

“I may or may not know a thing or two on how to make your relationship more exciting.”

“Really? Is that so?” Bucky’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, sending shivers down your spine. He leans over then, getting closer to your face until his face is merely inches away from you.

“Bucky,” you breathe out. Your hands flat against his chest.

He blinks—once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry—shit, I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t be here. I’m gonna go—“ His whole demeanor changed. Bucky stands up, straightening his pants and shirt before looking down at you, still seated on the couch.

He was just three steps away from the door when you slot yourself between him and his way, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside. Outside, I’m gonna wait for my girlfriend outside.” He’s rambling, his ears are going red. A thin sheet of sweat glistening over his forehead.

Closing the gap between you and him, you lay a hand against his chest, over his heart. “Do I make you nervous?”

Bucky stammers out a broken ‘no.’

“No? Why’s your heart beating so fast, then?”

You reached up to his nape, pushing him down to your height to kiss him hard. He didn’t push you away yet, his hands are gripping your arms for purchase. His fingers digging in the flesh of your shoulders. It’s sure to be bruised come morning.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out as you pull away. His lips shining and swollen, “what did you do?”

“Something thrilling, really.”

Bucky didn’t know how you got on your knees, tugging his black jeans down along with his boxer briefs in a desperate manner.

“God, I knew you were packing.”

His cheeks heat up even more as you palm him, his length hot and heavy against your hand. You lean in and nipped his thigh, your sharp teeth digging into his skin.

Bucky couldn’t help himself but to hiss and slap you across the face, “don’t fucking bite me.”

He expected you to look up at him with tears in your eyes, what he wasn’t expecting is you looking up with mischief and joy glinting in your eyes as you bite him again—harder this time, “God, fuck—you slut!”

Bucky saw red and grabbed you roughly by your jaw, squeezing your mouth open, “you want me so fuckin’ bad, you’re marking me, aren’t you, huh? Such a fucking slut, look at you.”

He squeezes harder, prying your mouth open as he missed your mouth with his spit, “open your mouth—fucking open!”

You obliged, your knees scraping raw as you kneel before Bucky. You feel his spit drip down your chin, the first time he missed. The second one slid down your tongue, prompting him to forcefully tap your cheek close as you swallow.

His angry cock stood dripping with precum; prominent veins making themselves known. You scoot closer, licking his balls up to the crown of his head which earns you a grunt.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky orders. He wastes no time in bunching your hair up in his fist, slapping your swollen lips and cheek with his cock. “This better than your gloss, yeah? Hmm, yeah, ‘course it is.”

Bucky squeezes your mouth again, pushing his thick cock past your lips, your warmth engulfing all of him at once. “No reflex? My god, you’ve been here before, haven’t ‘ya?”

His presumptions were proven wrong when he started to pump in and out of your mouth. You gagged and choked, your throat constricting around his head every time he hits the back. “In and out through the nose, hmm? Yeah, c’mon. You can do it, bitch.”

Once you got past your reflex and relaxing your throat, Bucky took advantage and sped up. His balls slapping your chin when he thrusts in. The neckline of your shirt wet with spit and drool as he continues to fuck your mouth like he owns it.

You hum as you feel Bucky’s cock throb in your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Another set of rough thrusts, Bucky pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. He strokes his girth with his hand, with you licking the angry crown of his length. Ropes of cum spurt out, painting a good portion of your face milky white. You managed to swallow it, catching some in your abused mouth.

He stands tall above you, catching his breath as he tucks himself into his pants once more. “The fuck did I just do?”

“Something adventurous.” You smirk, standing up on your own, wiping your face with the inside of your shirt.

Bucky pats down his pocket for his phone, landing his gaze on the couch to look for it. He saunters over, looking for any texts from his girlfriend.

“You know, I’m doubting you even have a girlfriend,” You let out a sharp quip as you smooth your hair down, drinking the rest of your beer.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky retorts, stuffing his phone down his back pocket. Before strutting over a desk and scribbling something.

“What? You came on my face and I can’t say shit?”

He tosses you a piece of paper, catching it on your hand. Bucky gives you a reluctant look before turning the doorknob, leaving you alone in the room.

You unfold the paper then, ‘call me when you’re feeling adventurous’ it says, along with his phone number.

#bitchassbucky writes #works: one shots #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff

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nutmegalomania · 4 years

Text

Sweet Tooth

a beelzebub x reader ff

description: a midnight snack before bed turned into more when you ran into the object of your recent sexual desires: beelzebub. Instead of sinking your teeth into a delicious snack, he devoured you instead, and it was more than you could have asked for.

ingredients: beelzebub (obey me!)/reader, gender-neutral reader, beelzebub (obey me!), smut, blow jobs, fingering, sir kink, asphyxiation, hair pulling, food play, spanking, degradation, creampie

flavor: spicy 🌶️

calories: 8,272

🥐

Your mouth stretched open, and a yawn pushed itself out as you walked out of Levi’s room towards the kitchen. Between playing games with him and Mammon texting you every five seconds asking if he could borrow money which you knew he’d blow instantly and never pay back, you were in desperate need of a deep nights sleep, but before that, your stomach beckoned you to eat something to calm the grumbling down and allow you to have a good rest in your soft bed. Tears sprung up in your eyes as another yawn hit you along with the scent of something sweet that led you deeper into the kitchen.

A large back met your droopy eyes as you dragged your feet on the floor, and you plopped down into a chair at the wooden table as you rubbed your eyes with a fist. The smell of cake mixed with peanut butter, chocolate, and fruits hit your nose—or at least things that smelled similar since your comfort foods on earth didn’t exist here in Devildom. Your stomach let out a drawn out and pathetic growl, and saliva filled your mouth at the thought of tasting whatever was cooking. You wiped the side of your mouth with the back of your hand, and leaned forward to catch a better whiff of the baked goods.

“Are you hungry as well, Y/N?” a voice asked, and you shook your head to snap yourself out of your hunger daze to see Beelzebub staring at you, his orange hair falling into his amethyst eyes as he leaned against the table to look at you, a bar of what you assumed to be chocolate in his hands, a large bite taken out of its corner.

You blinked and leaned back at his proximity to you, your cheeks reddening as the smell of chocolate from his breath wrapped around you and mixed with his natural scent. “Uh… Y-yeah. I got a little hungry after playing with Levi so I decided to grab a little snack before I went to sleep.” You gave him an awkward chuckle and scratched the back of your head while avoiding his eyes. “The smell of whatever you’re baking made me stop though.” He took another large bite of the chocolate bar, almost all of the chocolatey goodness gone now, and you watched as he licked his lips after swallowing the food. “It-It smells good,” you said, mentally hitting yourself for honing in on his lips instead of looking him in the eyes and managing to stutter.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you that your breath kept getting caught in your chest whenever you saw Beelzebub lick his lips after eating, but it had been happening for a few weeks now. You had been hanging out with anyone but Beelzebub to get your minds off it, whether that be playing games or talking about manga with Levi, going shopping or getting mani pedis with Asmodeus, kicking Mammon out of your room for begging to borrow money, taking naps with Belphie, reading in Satan’s room, or helping Lucifer with artifacts he’s found. Frankly, you should have known that Beelzebub would be in the kitchen, so you should have steered clear and gone straight to your room, but the hunger gnawing at your stomach won and led you to the predicament you found yourself in right now, aka trying not to grab Beelzebub by the back of his head to smash your lips against his.

He tilted his head to the side, his hair bouncing as he smiled at you. “It does, doesn’t it? It’s almost done. When it’s finished cooking, do you want a piece? I might be willing to share if it’s you,” he said, and you nodded as your heart thrummed in your chest at his words.

Though you didn’t tend to read too deeply into things, his words struck something in you that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he liked you even a smudge of what you felt for him. Just someone bringing his name up in conversation sent your face flushing and pulse racing, and being in his presence only worsened those symptoms.

After you nodded, he turned away from you to take the cake out of the oven, giving you a full view of his wide back. You bit your lip as his back muscle contracted underneath his shirt, and you slapped the sides of your face to get your mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t be. Instead, you opted for looking at the steaming cake he pulled out of the oven and decorated it with swift ease, white icing dripping down the sides of the dark brown cake, red strawberries dotting the top with whip cream piped around where the fruits touched the cake. You licked your lips as the smell became stronger and hit your nose, triggering saliva to fill your mouth at the sweet, tantalizing scent.

“Someone looks excited to see the food,” Beelzebub said, and you nodded your head so fast that he thought it would fall off.

“It’s very, very rare that you offer food to others, so I know it has to be good enough to share. It smells so good though that I’m dying to dig in. Please hurry up or I’ll die of hunger!”

“Now you know how I feel every day,” he said with a chuckle, and you groaned in agony, unable to imagine this empty feeling in your stomach lasting every single day, every waking hour.

Your eyes remained glued to the cake as he set it down on the countertop, a knife in hand as he prepared himself to cut you a slice. The knife sank into the cake, and Beelzebub slipped it underneath the slice he cut for you before he placed it on a plate and handed it to you with a fork. After he set the knife down, he grabbed the rest of the cake and sat across from you to indulge in his food.

Hunger gnawed at your stomach, begging for food, and you used your fork to cut off a tiny piece to eat. You brought it to your mouth, and Beelzebub watched with an intense gaze as you wrapped your lips around the cake. As it entered your mouth, you chewed it a few times and licked your lips. You just about moaned when the familiar flavor of sweet and sour strawberries hit your tongue and mixed with the whipped cream frosting and rich chocolate cake.

“It’s so good!” you said as you shoved another piece into your mouth. A glob of icing fell out of your mouth and hit the exposed skin of your chest, your baggy shirt’s collar hanging low enough that all Beelzebub had to do was lean over the table to see down your shirt.

“I’m glad you like it,” he responded as he brought a piece up to his mouth, but his eyes widened when another blob of icing dropped onto your collar bones and trickled down.

“Where did you even get all of this stuff? I thought the Devildom didn’t have any human foods,” you said, shovelling more cake into your mouth, not caring how messy you were.

“I asked Lucifer if he’d allow a one time import of human food so I could try it once, and he surprisingly agreed.”

You nodded as you chewed, this time not hiding your satisfied moan as the sweetness of the cake spread throughout your mouth, and Beelzebub’s body tensed at the sound. The amount of thick, white icing dotted across your face with your moan made not-so-innocent thoughts run through his mind. Once you cleaned your plate of any crumbs, you licked around your mouth and sucked icing from your hands. Beelzebub set his fork down, the metal clinking against the plate, and your eyes shot up to look at him.

He leaned over the table, and you stared at him with wide eyes, warning sirens blaring at full volume inside your head. From how close he was, his body heat reached you, and you wanted nothing more than to climb on top of the table and push your body against his. His scent that always made you light headed and five seconds away from pouncing on him wrapped its musky fingers around you and trapped you in its grasp. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, and before you could get out a single sound, his face was centimeters from yours. The sweet, tantalizing smell of his breath fanned across your face, and your eyes honed in on his lips.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he ground out, and you shot your eyes up to look into his.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked while your heart pounded in your chest and body heated up from the look in his eyes.

In response, he took a finger, dipped it down to where the collar of your shirt ended, and swiped up a glob of icing from your skin. You shuddered when the rough pad of his finger grazed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from following his finger as he brought it to his mouth and slipped it inside, his tongue wrapping around the digit to lick the icing clean off. You squeezed your thighs together as he looked into your eyes the whole time, a burning fire of desire lit behind his purple irises.

“You shouldn’t waste food,” he said, voice deep and husky as it puffed across your face, and you breathed in the chocolate scent of his breath.

Your throat felt thick as you gulped, eyes unable to look away from his lust-filled ones. Instead, your body instinctively leaned forward until your lips remained a hair from his. Air escaped you and fanned against his mouth, and his tongue snuck out to swipe along his bottom lip, the touch of his tongue ghosting over your soft lips. Shivers ran down your spine, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and your body begged for more of his touch.

The two of you stared at each other in silence, your eyes fixating on the other’s lips, and you snaked a hand behind his neck to tangle your fingers through his orange hair. He shuddered when your fingernails grazed the skin of his nape, and you sucked in a deep breath as you curled your digits in his locks and tugged his head back to see his reaction. The deep groan that escaped his mouth rumbled in your core, and your thighs squeezed together, arousal burning deep inside.

His amethyst eyes peered down at you, lips parted, and you licked your lips when his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Your chair scraped against the floor as you pushed it back and climbed onto the table, the wood digging into your exposed legs while you slid the cake away from underneath you two, and Beel’s tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as a heavy breath pushed past his lips. Lust swam in your hooded eyes as you locked eyes with him, his eyes telling you all you needed to know. He was ready to fuck you up.

A soft tug to his hair pulled his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry eyes, and desire burned in your veins and spurred you on to latch your slick lips to his smooth skin. A content sigh tickled his neck as the taste of his skin melted on your tongue, the salty taste from the thin sheen of sweat coating his neck addicting you to him. You dragged your tongue over the muscles in his neck, stopping as you ran it over his Adam’s apple, and your teeth nipped at the skin beneath his Adam’s apple, red splotches staining his skin. He hummed, the vibrations stimulating your lips against his skin, and you tightened your finger in his hair.

His large hands slid underneath your thighs to pull you into a sitting position in front of him, your legs dangling on either side of his hips, and he pressed his pelvis into you. Your lips detached from his neck as you threw your head back to let out a quiet moan as his clothed cock pressed against your lower half. The size of it from behind his clothing left your mouth drying and heart rate quickening, and your throat bobbed. You needed him inside now.

“Beel…” you breathed out, and he hummed in acknowledgement as his hands slid to your ass to press your lower half flush against his, and your body jerked when he rocked his hips forward, rubbing against your arousal and slicking your underwear through your shorts. He peppered wet kisses against your jaw, his tongue slither out to lap at the perspiration forming on your skin, and you whimpered and slid your hand from his hair to grip his shoulder. Your nails dug into his back, and he hissed in pain against your neck, though he didn’t stop swiping his tongue along your skin and nipping to leave his mark. Your toes curled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles to pull his cock flush against you. “Fuck… I-I want you to fuck me now.”

Your unwavering eyes that begged for him to fuck you senseless made his cock twitch in his pants, and he rested his forehead against your shoulder, the last shred of sanity he had ready to snap. The grip on your ass tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh when impatience filled your body and urged your body to grind against his clothed erection. The friction of your clothes rubbing against you left high-pitched mewls slipping from your red lips, and he groaned against your shoulder.

“If you keep doing that, Y/N, I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, and you tugged his head back to bite your lip at him, taunting him with your eyes.

“I don’t mind.” Your arms slithered behind his neck as you pulled your face closer to his, the tip of your nose pressing against his. “Make a mess of me, Beel,” you said, and the sweet scent of strawberries lingering in your breath invaded his nose and muddled his brain, your words taking a few moments to register in his mind.

“Shit…” he said once the words processed, and he wasted no time in slamming your back against the table, a large hand gripping your wrists to hold them above your head. The wood digging into your back and the tight hold on your wrists burned in your core, your arousal increasing as you moaned. His head dipped down to your shoulders, his tongue pressing against your collar bones. You had dreamed of being roughed up by Beel, and now that it was happening, your body couldn’t take how much you loved it.

“Rougher,” you said, and he groaned against your neck. His hot, damp breath burned against your skin, and your fingernails dug into your palm to control yourself. “Slap me. Pull my hair. Make me your bitch!”

His hands around your wrists tightened, and your back arched as the burning pain spread through your body and made arousal spill from your lower half. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he said, and a hand slid underneath your shirt, the calluses on his fingers scraping against your skin as his hand crawled up to your nipples.

A shuddering gasp dissipated into the air from your lips as his fingers pinched your nipple and yanked on it, your back arching and legs trembling around his waist. He grinded against you as his teeth sank into your trapezius, fingers still twisting, pinching, and yanking on your nipples. Curses spilled from your lips as searing pain flared up in your shoulder and chest.

“More!”

His hand on your nipple retracted and reached up to grab your hair. He yanked it back, your scalp screaming in pain, and you winced as you stared into his purple eyes.

“Don’t get greedy, bitch. On your knees. Now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as your body twitched in pleasure from his degrading words and commands, and you unhooked your ankles to slide from of his grasp on your wrists to sink to your knees on the ground in front of the table. Beel turned around and leaned against the table, the outline of his cock free for your hungry eyes to take in. You crawled towards him on your hands and knees, your legs burning from the hard floor, but before you could run your hands over his bulge, he grabbed something from the table and held it up. A bottle of chocolate syrup.

“Why don’t we have a little fun?” he asked, lips curling into a smirk as your mouth went dry. You nodded, and he sat on the table, spreading his legs. “Pour this on me.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slotting your body between his legs as you propped yourself up on your knees and rested your hands on his hard thighs.

He shoved the bottle of chocolate syrup into your hands, and your mind whirred with ideas of what to do. An image of the dark liquid dripping down his stomach for your tongue to lap up popped up, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Your hand slid underneath his shirt and ran over his abs, the muscles tensing beneath your soft touch, and you rubbed over his hard chest before dragging your hands back down to the edge of his shirt, loving the way his body trembled beneath your hand. He groaned at your touch, eyes closing as his head rolled back, and when you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he peered down at your face and chuckled.

“You sure are eager,” he said as he took in your glistening red lips and hooded eyes that begged for his cock.

His muscles rippled as he gripped the edge of his shirt and yanked it over his head to discard off to the side. Your eyes dragged over his body, and you brought the bottle of chocolate syrup up once you popped open the cap. Your hand tightened around it, and a stream of dark liquid poured out and trickled down his chest. The syrup dipped down into his abs, and before it could reach the waistband of his pants, your tongue stopped it. The sweet, chocolatey taste of the syrup mixed with his sweat to create a tantalizing new flavor on your tongue better and more addicting than any drug.

A needy sigh hit his skin as you ran your tongue up the sauce running down his body, bottle of chocolate syrup on the chair next to you, hands running up and down his sides. You stood to your feet as your tongue trailed up to his chest, fingernails scratching his sides, and your head craned down as you swirled your tongue around his nipple to get every last drop of chocolate off of his body. You looked up at him as you lapped a streak of sauce from his chest. He groaned, and a hand snaked up to grip your hair. He yanked your head back once you licked the last drop of sauce from his chest, and your tongue stuck out as a breathy chuckle left your open mouth, hands resting on his thighs.

“Good, bitch. Here’s your reward,” he said, and he pushed his face towards yours, his tongue rubbing against yours as he pushed it inside your mouth.

He swallowed a surprised whimper escaping your mouth, his tongue circling yours, and your body trembled when he sucked on your tongue, the wet sounds echoing in your head and muddling your thoughts. His grip on your hair and the warmth of his tongue running along your teeth and prodding inside your mouth stole all your attention and made it impossible to think of anything else. The chocolate on your tongue mingled with the sweet icing and strawberries on his, but you couldn’t focus on it as you dug your fingers into his thighs, your nails sinking into the cloth of his pants. He let out a pained grunt into your mouth, hand tightening around your hair.

His lips pressed into your abused ones in a heated, open-mouth kiss as he yanked your head back, and a shaky breath slipped from your mouth as searing pain shot up on your scalp. The pain traveled through your body in a burning sensation that brought forth a wave of desire that his soft, warm lips dancing against yours only served to worsen. His teeth sank into your bottom lip, and your body flinched. He pulled back from your face and tugged on your bottom lip as your chest heaved up and down.

His fisted your hair tighter, and his free hand snaked up your torso, grazing your hardened nipples to clutch your jaw as his teeth released your lip. The pad of his thumb pressed into your jaw, and you pursed your lips at the dull pain echoing in your face. He turned your face over, watching with mild amusement as you let your head follow his guidance, and his large hand let go of your jaw to slide down to your neck.

Before you could react, his fingers dug into the side of your neck, and his lips slammed into yours again. Your head felt light as oxygen flow to your brain cut off, all thoughts flying out of your mind, and his tongue curled inside your mouth to run across the roof of your mouth. Your hands on his thighs fumbled around as your lungs and head begged for air, but the enticing burning sensation left you wanting nothing more than for his hand to stay around your throat as he tongue-fucked your mouth. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and right before darkness took over, he detached his hand from your throat and pulled away from your lips.

“Fuck!” you cursed, a deep, broken breath rubbing your throat raw as you gasped for air. As oxygen reached your brain and allowed you to think again, you licked your lips as a tempting thought came to mind. “I wanna suck you off, sir…. Please,” you whimpered as your hands ran over his erection, the warmth seeping into your hands through his clothing. “I need your cock in my mouth.”

His eyes fluttered back, the whites exposed to you, as he tilted his head back, and a guttural groan kissed your ears and set ablaze a burning desire in your lower half. Your hands climbed up to his abs, the muscles contracting beneath your touch as you glided your palms against his warm skin, and you leaned in towards his neck to press wet kisses to his throat. As you trailed the kisses lower and lower on his body, his hands gripped your ass and squeezed it, an aching whine escaping your lips and fanning against his skin as his fingers dug into your clothed ass and pulled at the flesh. You pressed your ass back against his hands as he massaged it between his digits, and a needy mewl released itself from your throat when he delivered a slap to your cheeks, the flesh bouncing before he grabbed it again in a vice grip.

Your fingernails scratched against his stomach and left red marks as the pressure against your ass cheeks moved to your waist, his large hands pressing into the dips in your waist, and your lips trailed down to his chest. You looked up at him as your tongue rolled his nipple around on your tongue, and when his eyes locked with yours, you let out a breathy laugh and wrapped your lips around his nipple, teeth nipping the bud, before you moved down to his abs. Your knees sunk to the kitchen floor, hands on the waistband of his pants as you traced the outline of his stomach muscles with your tongue.

A hand moved to run through your hair as you licked his stomach, and the other reached over to grab the bottle of chocolate syrup from the chair. As your hands slipped underneath his pants, he tugged your head back, your tongue sticking out, and he squeezed a stream of chocolate onto your tongue. The brown liquid trickled down your tongue into your throat, and you swallowed, the chocolate disappearing from the flat of your tongue, and stuck it back out.

“Good, bitch,” he said in a rasp, and you wasted no time in tugging his waistband down to let his erection spring free.

You gasped when it hit you in the side of the face, the size of it bigger than your mind ever imagined, and your underwear felt even wetter than before. This was really happening. You were about to put his cock in your mouth.

He chuckled as your wide eyes stared at the red tip of his erect cock, the deep huskiness of the sound shaking you to your core. All of a sudden, a stream of chocolate syrup hit the head of his dick and dripped down his shaft to rest on his balls. Your tongue swiped across your lip, slicking the plump flesh as you mentally prepared yourself to take him into your mouth. The chocolate glistened in the lighting of the kitchen and begged for your tongue to lap it off of his pulsating erection.

A shaky hand reached out to rest underneath his balls, the chocolate syrup running down onto your hand as you brought your face closer to his tip. Your throat bobbed as you gulped, ready to test your gag reflex on his length, and you pressed a kiss to his red tip. Chocolate coated your lips, the bitter taste of his precum blending with it and making you wince. Had it not been for the deep sigh he let out when you kissed the head of his cock and the way his hand tightened in your hair, you would have been hesitant to go further.

Your lips wrapped back around his head to suck the chocolate off of it and ignored the slight bitter taste of it as your lips wandered down his length, stopping to press sloppy kisses against his dick to remove the chocolate syrup. You reached the crevice between his balls and the base of his dick and peppered kisses against it as your left hand on his balls gently massaged the flesh, your right hand circling around his shaft. As you lapped at the liquid around the base of his cock, sometimes running your tongue across the creases on his balls, your right hand tugging at his length.

Your thumb pressed into his slit, a sharp hiss leaving his lips, and you rolled the pad of your thumb around his head to slick it up with his precum. You hummed against his cock and balls, and his grip in your hair pulled at your roots as he tightened his hand. Once you had spread his precum, the bitter liquid mingling with the leftover chocolate syrup on his skin, you twisted your wrist around his head and worked your way down his shaft as you returned to sucking at the base of his dick, nipping softly to leave love bites on his tan skin.

“Put it in your mouth, whore,” he ground out, and your throat went dry as his strained, rough voice went straight to your core, your thighs squeezing together to hide the wetness between your legs.

You ran your hand along the length of his shaft before resting it at the base and pulling your lips free from his warm, chocolate-covered skin to press them against his head once more. Your right hand gripped his base, your left supporting his balls, and you took a deep breath before wrapping your lips around his head. His warmth spread across the flat of your tongue as his dick inched farther inside your mouth. To accommodate his size, you relaxed your jaw and your throat as he invaded the heat of your throat. Before you reached half of his length, the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around it, your throat closing on his head and trying to force it out.

“Watch your teeth,” he said when your mouth tried to instinctively close around him, and you looked up at him with teary eyes as you forced your throat to adjust to his size. He sighed as your right hand twisted around his base, shaking rapidly to send vibrations through his length while you readied yourself to take him in more.

With a deep breath through your nose, you pushed your head farther down his length, and your grip on his balls and shaft tightened for a second as his tip slid down your throat. Your throat bulged as you took him in, and you forgot to breathe when you slid down to his base. As your nose pressed against his pelvis, he tapped your cheek with his hand to remind you to breathe, and your hands moved to grip his thighs and dig into his flesh as you took a deep breath through your nose. You whined around his length in your mouth, and he threw his head back.

“Yeah, just like that, slut. Take it nice and slow for now.”

His encouraging words lit a fire inside you, and you dragged your mouth up his length, reaching halfway, before shoving your head back down onto him. A wet gagging sound reached your ears as he slid fully into your throat, but when he grunted and adjusted his hands in your hair to move it out of your face, you didn’t care about your gag reflex and only wanted to make him cum.

You rocked your head forward on his cock, sucking as you tilted your head to the side and took him inside your mouth at a consistent pace. Your tongue traced the large, bulging being on his cock, smirking around his dick when his body twitched under your tongue. A moan vibrated against his length as you dragged your head up his shaft to press the tip of your tongue against his frenulum.

“Fuck!” he cursed, hands gripping the back of your head as you flitted your tongue back and forth over the sensitive spot beneath his tip, and he pushed your head down onto his length once more, his cock sliding fully into your mouth and resting on your tongue. You gagged around him, but you relaxed your jaw and let him rest in your throat.

He held your head down on his length, and you breathed through your nose as your throat closed around him, hands clutching his thighs. You pressed the flat of your tongue against his length, the last smearing of chocolate on his cock disappearing on your taste buds. His head fell back, and his hand holding your head on his dick loosened. You dragged your head off of his cock as his hand dropped from your head, swirling your tongue around his tip and sucking on his slit. As you detached your lips from him and sat back on your knees, he gripped his cock in his hand and twisted his wrist around his length.

“Fuck, I want you to cum in my mouth, sir. Give it to me. I’ve been a good slut,” you said, eyes trained on his hands violently jerking up and down his shaft. The heavy, guttural grunts leaving him warned you of his oncoming orgasm, and you stuck your tongue out, ready for his thick, hot cum to shoot onto it.

“Shit…” he cursed, and you scooted closer to his pulsating cock as it twitched in his hands.

You cupped his balls in your hands and rested the tip of his dick against the flat of your tongue, and his cock bulged in his hands before he released onto your tongue with a rough, drawn-out moan, his hot liquid trickling down your tongue when you swallowed all of it and lapped at the white cum that spilled from his slit. The bitter liquid made you cringe, but knowing it was Beel’s, you didn’t care and made sure not to waste a drop as your tongue ran along his shaft to lick up any that trickled down. As you dragged your tongue up his length to get all the cum and leftover chocolate from his skin, your eyes bore into his with a burning flame of lust. His tongue poked out to swipe along his bottom lip, and his teeth snagged the flesh as the flat of your tongue rubbed against him.

“Get on the table and spread your legs,” he said, and the rough, filthy growl with which the words left his saliva-slicked lips had you obeying in an instant. You licked your lips as you settled yourself onto your back and opened your legs, exposing your pulsating entrance to his hungry eyes. “Fuck…” he breathed out as you used two fingers to spread open your hole for him to see your pink walls.

He trailed a finger from the base of your opening to the top, loving the way your body shuddered beneath his calloused touch. Your hands gripped your thighs as you pulled your legs back towards your chest, giving him full access to your wet, needy opening. The tip of his fingers swirled your arousal around your hole, slicking up his digits, and he spread you open. His cock twitched when you whined in annoyance, wanting his fingers inside you already, and he chuckled.

“Desperate whore,” he said. “I’ll give you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip and giggled, eyes rolling back in your head and mouth opening in a silent moan as he pushed his middle finger inside of your warm walls. The presence of his finger inside made you clench around it, and you rolled your hips as he pumped the finger in and out of you. When he curled his finger inside of you and scraped the calloused pads of his digit against your walls, your legs trembled and threatened to escape your grasp.

“Just like that!” you said, whining as he complied and curled his finger again, pressing into your walls and dragging it along it.

“You like that?” he said, and you nodded your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. He slapped your thigh, and you moaned. “Use your words, bitch.”

“Yes! I love it! More, sir.”

“Good bitch,” he said, slapping your ass as he inserted another finger.

You gasped as your walls stretched around the two fingers inside of you, and your head rolled back against the wooden table. He licked his lips, an idea twinkling in his hooded eyes, and your body tensed in anticipation.

He pulled your shirt up to expose your chest to his eyes. “Bite it,” he told you, and your teeth sank into the hem of your shirt without a word.

Your pupils trailed after him as he reached over to the side, his arm flexing, and grabbed your unfinished slice of cake. The food sat on the white plate, and before you could question why he held it in his hand, he tilted the plate and let the slice fall onto your stomach.

While he thrusted his fingers into you, he used his other hand to smash the cake against your stomach and smear it onto your skin. His tongue poked out to slowly lick up the cake coating his hand, and the lustful look in his hooded eyes left your hips jutting in the air. He shoved his cake-coated fingers into his mouth, tongue rolling around each digit with care to get everything off of it before he retracted them from his mouth to push your hips back down to the table. Your back rested against the wood, and he bent down to kiss your stomach, a shaky breath exhaling from your nose.

His tongue pressed against your stomach, licking the icing from your skin as his eyes bore right into yours. Your breath caught in your throat, and he closed his eyes as he panted against you, tongue swirling around your body. You rolled your hips when his fingers pressed against the top of your walls, tongue still dancing on your skin. Little by little, the white icing smeared on you disappeared as the sweetness melted against his tongue.

“Fuck, it taste so good on you,” he moaned while he pumped his fingers inside you, his other hand trailing up your side to run over your chest. His hand stopped to pinch your nipple and tug at it, watching as you arched your back and whined through your shirt in your mouth, and he chuckled against you, his hot breath hitting your skin and making your stomach tense. “Such a waste that you couldn’t finish your slice of cake, but it tasted better on you anyways.”

You dropped the hem of your shirt in your mouth, the cloth sticking to your sweat coated chest, and he sucked at your skin, nipping and relishing in the hisses you let out as he left red splotches on you.

“Who said you could drop your shirt, whore?” he asked, and he pulled away from your stomach. His hand circled around your throat, and you clutched at his wrist as airflow cut off. You gasped around his grip as his fingers thrusted into you at an erratic pace. The tips of his fingers jabbed into your soft, wet walls, and the pain from his digits abusing your walls mixing with your lightheadedness brought your high closer.

“Cum… cumming,” you choked out as your lower body tensed and the pool of heat in you spilled over.

His fingers kept moving in and out of you, not changing pace or depth as he helped you chase your orgasm, and you threw your head against the table, back arching as a choked moan left you, legs shaking and hole clenching around his fingers. He pumped his digits in you for you to ride out your orgasm, and as you whined from overstimulation, you moved your hands from his wrist around your throat to his hand between your legs to pull it away from your walls. The hand around your throat disappeared, and he leaned over you, his sweet breath puffing against your face as you looked him in the eyes.

“You’re so wet. Aren’t you naughty?” he ground out in your ear as he slipped his fingers out of you, a string of your juices connecting the tips of his digits to your hole. The huskiness in his voice reverberated through your body, and you rolled your head to the side to give him a sly look out of the corner of your eyes.

“Just for you, sir.” You rolled your hips and pressed his hands harder against you. “Please fuck me now.” The sharp inhale from him made your entrance clench as confidence coursed through you. It made you proud to know you were able to have an effect on him and make him as crazy as he was making you.

“On your hands and knees. Now.”

In an instant, you flipped yourself over and pushed your ass into the air for him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you waited for his cock to enter you. He slid closer to you, pushing the chairs out of his way, and his fingers slipped back inside you. A broken moan left you as he curled his digits inside you, his fingernails scraping against your walls, and your legs trembled as your arms gave out and left your upper body leaning on the table.

“Give me your cock now, sir. I want it in my hole. Fucking abuse me—I can take it,” you begged against the table, the wood pressing into the side of your face as his fingers slid out of your wet hole and left you clenching around nothing.

A slap to your ass jolted your body, and you threw your head back to moan at the stinging pain spreading through your skin. He grabbed your hair, shoving your face into the table before he yanked it back to lean into your ear. Your neck ached from the way he craned it, but you let out desperate pants in anticipation for what he would do to you.

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch. I’ll fuck you how I want to, and you’ll take it,” Beel growled into your ear, his hot breath hitting the side of your face, and you pushed yourself back onto him.

“Yes, sir. I’m just a hole for your cock. Use me,” you said in between heavy pants, and your voice turned into a whine near the end of your words as your entrance clenched, ready for him to enter and mess you up.

The palm of his hand slapped your ass once more, your body twitching at the impact before he gripped it between his fingers and spread it apart. His other hand released your hair and gripped his cock to press the tip of it to your entrance, and he ran it around your hole, chuckling as you tried to push yourself against it to get it inside of you.

“You’re like a bitch in heat,” he said, and you bit your lip to hold in a cut-off whine, your head still thrown back. “Fine, I’ll give you what you want so badly.” Without another word, his dick entered your hole, and your body jerked forward at the sudden action.

“Oh, fuck yes! Shove it all in! Yes, yes, yes!” you cried out as your walls spread when he pushed inside you. Your mouth hung open in a silent moan as his length rubbed against your walls before a long, drawn-out, and filthy moan pushed its way out. The loud noise echoed in the silent kitchen.

“Not so loud, slut,” he told you, a hand snaking around your throat to hold it as his digits dug into your throat.

You choked as his fingers curled around the sides of your neck and squeezed your throat shut for a second. As you coughed on your saliva, his hips rolled forward, pressing his dick farther inside of you slowly as he let you adjust to his size. Your coughs turned into surprised gasps as your hole burned from his cock forcing it open.

“Yes… Abuse my tight hole with your large cock, sir,” you choked out, throat scratchy from his hold, and the lack of oxygen to your brain and lungs made your thoughts hazy as words slipped from your lips in incomprehensible babbles.

“Don’t egg me on, whore. If you do, I’ll make it so that you can’t walk,” he growled into your ear, and shallow pants left you.

“Do it, sir. Fuck me so hard that I’ll be walking sideways for a month!” you said through a gasp, and the pads of his fingers dug into the side of your neck more, his other hand slapping your ass and watching it jiggle from the impact.

“You asked for it, bitch,” he said, and he pulled his cock out until only his head remained inside of you. Before a complaint could slip from your tongue, he snapped his hips and thrusted his full length inside of you, his head prodding a bundle of nerves deep in your walls that shook your body.

You moaned, the noise cut off from his hand around your throat, and more whiny sounds spilled from your lips as he continued to slam inside of you. Your ass jiggled each time he slammed fully inside you and pressed his pelvis flush against you, and the sound of skin slapping created a symphony in your ears with your moans and his grunts. Each thrust from him burned your entrance and pricked your insides, but the pain mingled with your lack of oxygen to produce a dull pleasure in your body that you couldn’t get enough of.

You lost yourself in the pleasure as he abused your hole, using you like his own little slut as he chased his orgasm, and your walls cried out from the pain and pleasure his cock gave you. With each snap of his hips, his cock nestled farther inside of you and hit all the spots on your walls. You pushed yourself back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, loving the way it pushed his cock even deeper into you than before, and he raised his other hand to deliver a hard slap to your ass.

“You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you, slut?” he drawled, rubbing your reddening skin. He yanked your head back by your throat, a strangled gasp leaving you, and his hand loosened to grip your jaw as he leaned down to your ear. “Who said you could fuck yourself against my cock?”

“I’m sorry, sir… It just… it just feels so good,” you whined, still bouncing back onto his dick.

He released your jaw and grabbed your wrists with his hands to pull you back until you sat on your knees. His dick slipped in and out of you at a faster pace as he held your wrists in a tight grip. The burning on your skin from his hands brought a delicious tingle of pain crawling through your body, and you knew it would leave bruises on your skin. Strings of moans and whines spilled from your lips as you arched your back from the stinging pleasure in your lower half, and he cursed when you clenched around his cock. His balls slapped against you as he moved faster and faster inside of you, and you let out breathy ‘yes’s as your core burned.

The head of his cock prodded against walls, and you looked down to see the bulge in your stomach from his dick. Your eyes watched as it disappeared before returning, your stomach bulging out once more. The sight made your hole squeeze around him as it reminded you of who was inside of you, making you a moaning, blabbering mess, and before you knew it, the puddle of heat deep inside of you burned while your body tensed. He released your arms, and you fell forward, bracing yourself against the table as your high came closer and closer.

“I’m… I’m cumming!” you cried out, and he kept his pace consistent as he leaned forward to press his front into your back and groaned in your ear.

“Cum for me, slut,” he said, and you let out one last filthy moan before your orgasm slammed into you.

Your whole body shook, the wave of pleasure spreading from your scalp to your toes as your head tingled and toes curled from your orgasm. You blanked out for a second as all you could register was the pleasure in coursing through you. Your lower half dipped down towards the table, and he slid an arm around your waist to hold you up as you clenched around him. He craned his head down to rest his forehead against your shoulder, and as your walls squeezed him once more, he cursed against your back as his hot, thick cum shot out into your hole. A helpless whine pushed past your abused lips as he filled every crevice inside of you with his cum, your walls expanding to let his seed fill you up. You rocked your hips back onto his cock to milk him of every last drop and to ride out your orgasm, and he hissed as you squeezed his dick.

As you rocked yourself on his cock. he slipped it out of you, your body twitching from the overstimulation. His cum slipped out of your hole as it clenched and pushed his seed out of your opening. A blob of cum hit the table, and a small bit trickled from your hole down the inside of your thighs. Beel used a thumb to spread open your hole as it pushed more of his cum out, watching with mild amusement as your hole clenched uncontrollably to push his white liquid out.

You tried to hold his cum in, wanting to savor the feeling of it inside of you, but he dipped his head down to press his lips to your entrance. A soft kiss pressed itself against your sweaty skin before he poked his tongue out to enter you and swirl it around inside of you. He licked up his liquid painting your walls as you whined from the uncomfortable burning in your lower half.

A sucking sound echoed through the kitchen as he made sure to get the last drop from your hole, and you reached a hand back to latch onto his hair and tug at it. He swirled his tongue inside you once more before he pulled off, and you fell forward and flopped onto your back. Your chest heaved up and down, sweat sticking your clothes to your torso, and Beel ran a hand through his orange hair to push it out of his face. Your hazy eyes trailed down his body and fell onto his erection. You knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and you silently apologized to everyone in the dorm, knowing they’d hear everything. You gulped, and he smirked at you, lust still swimming in his purple irises as he grabbed his cock.

“Care for seconds?”

#beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral terms #beelzebub smut #beelzebub obey me #shall we date beelzebub #shall we date beel #smut #shall we date #obey me #oneshot #shall we date fanfiction #obey me fanfic

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elysianslove · 4 years

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what he doesn’t know; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ The anon that requested the Oikawa scandal ✨bless✨ them. Can I request a whole scenario with that plot?? But like they’re at a game and the reader spots Oikawa and he texts her while she’s next to Ushijima and she makes an excuse to leave and they meet somewhere and ALMOST get caught. ❞

synopsis; your heart belongs to one man, but your body another. based off of this thirst i received.

pairings; oikawa tōru x reader, ushijima wakatoshi x reader

genre; smut, angst (at the end)

warnings; cheating, public sex, choking, degradation, humiliation, creampie, barebacking, rough sex

note; i, in no way, condone cheating. i find it really, really disgusting, and i would never wish it upon anyone. this is purely fictional. if it bothers or triggers you, please don’t read! both oikawa and ushijima are above eighteen here.

━━ as not only shiratorizawa’s boys volleyball club’s manager, but also as the captain’s girlfriend, it’s not an odd occurrence to see you walk into the large gymnasium by his side, your small hand in his large one. you’re a constant by his side, a calming, steadying presence, and as you pass by the other teams, you offer his hand a reassuring squeeze, one he doesn’t necessarily need, but one he accepts nonetheless.

as he leads you and his team throughout the hall, towards the stands where they’ll stay until they’re called upon to warm up, the different teams from the various schools in miyagi seem to shrink and shrivel in fear by the intimidation that drifts off of them in waves. even you can’t deny it. all your boys are tall, strong and capable, and with endless victories on their backs and around their necks an attestation to it.

all but one team.

it’s not surprising seijoh’s boys face them head on, what with the fact that the multiple defeats they’ve faced have only hardened, thickened, their skin, sharpened their determination and strengthened their will to fight. it’s admiral, really, even to you. but what’s especially impressive is their captain’s gaze on you, unfaltering and unwavering as you pass him by. and when you look up momentarily, eyes meeting his, all he does is relax, arms crossing defiantly. heart beating unsteadily in your chest, you look away.

minutes later you find yourself seated by your boyfriend, you lift your legs up to cross them, placing your bag on your lap to avoid flashing anyone with your skirt as you hold your phone close to you, aimlessly scrolling through it. to your right is ushijima, biting into an apple, only half listening as tendō rambles to him and semi. glancing at semi’s face, you’re not entirely sure you want to listen in on the conversation, and you’re about to steal away your boyfriend’s attention, your mouth opening, hand coming to rest on his arm, until you feel your phone vibrate.

meet me behind the gymnasium, now

your mouth hangs open as you stare at your phone, at the text message, at the sender.

“did you want to say something, love?” ushijima asks, eyes curious.

uncertainly, you shake your head, pushing your phone into the pocket of the jacket you wear. “n-no,” you stutter, offering him a lopsided smile. “i just have a little bit of a headache, so is it okay if i head to the nurse’s office?”

he softens, smiling lightly. “of course,” he replies. “i’ll come get you when you’re needed, but please rest well.”

rising to your feet, you place your hand on the back of his neck, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “just text, it’s okay,” you tell him, before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. at the sight of his endearing smile at your actions, your heart twists, stomach upset, but you push it down, skipping over tendō’s outstretched legs, and heading to the alleyway you’d spotted on your way here.

when you arrive, he’s already there.

oikawa tōru, captain of the boys volleyball team of aoba johsai, leans suavely against the brick wall, shadowed by the tall building. his hands rest in his trainers’ pockets, and he barely flinches when he hears your feet hit against the gravel beneath, approaching him.

“took you long enough,” he greets you, and you bite back an eye roll. “what excuse did you think up this time?”

god, he infuriates you. everything about him pisses you off so much. from the way he stands, the way he carries himself to the way he talks, the way he speaks to you, his attitude, his voice, his stupidly soft hair and irritatingly charming smile and his annoyingly dazzling eyes. and most importantly, worst of it all, you hate how he makes you feel, you hate how despite it all, you still want him, still crave his hands on your body, his fingers pulling at your hair, his lips marking your neck, his nails digging into your hips as he thrusts into you.

you want to punch him in his stupid fucking face. but you can’t, exactly. so you do the next best thing.

stomping over to him, you quickly grab at his face, effectively shutting him up as you press your lips against his, harshly. his words are muffled against your mouth, and he’s only taken aback for a second before he’s taking the lead. his hands come up to grip at your wrists, roughly snapping them away from his face, before one large palm finds its way to your throat, wrapping it around and pushing you, forcing you to stumble towards the wall he’d just been leaning against, pressing you against it.

as always, the build up is quick, sinfully so. he kisses you open mouthed, unabashed, shamelessly, his tongue licking against yours. it can’t look worse than it sounds. but even though it’s so lewd, it’s also so fucking hot, and already, your hips are pushing towards his, searching for any sort of friction.

“fuck,” he curses, pulling back, his hand tightening around your throat to keep your lips parted. “fuck you’re so needy.”

you pant helplessly, hands fisting at his shirt, desperately pulling him to you. “please say you’ll fuck me,” you gasp out, effectively having him press his hips against yours.

he giggles, leaning forward, hovering his lips over yours, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck as his eyes scan you, your face, your body. “yeah,” he finally decides. “i’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

his free hand travels to your waist, down to your hips, to your thigh, which he urges you to lift up. mindlessly, you do, lifting up a leg and wrapping it around his waist as his hand strokes along your skin, dipping past the hem of your skirt, trailing and ghosting upwards, up, up, up until his fingers brush along your clothed slit, teasingly stroking the drenched piece of cloth.

“my god,” he taunts. “you’re this wet already?” he presses his fingers harder, stroking to your entrance, then back up to your clit, and your chest heaves, your face twisting away from him. he doesn’t let your eyes leave his for long, following your gaze as it tries to turn away from him. “you’re this wet for another man?” his hand loosens on your throat, allowing your head to fall forward to rest on his shoulder as finally, finally, he pushes your panties aside, fingers pressing against your entrance. you choke on your breath, leaning more into him as he sinks two of his fingers deeper, curling them as he presses them inside. “you’re this responsive to someone that isn’t your boyfriend?”

“tōru,” you gasp out, hands gripping at arms as he fucks you faster with his fingers, as you try to rock your hips in time with his movements, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs at it in tight, harsh circles. “tōru, tōru, tōru.”

“crying out my name instead of his,” he tuts, allowing you to press yourself more against him, his hand falling entirely from your throat and rising to the back of your head, fisting your hair and lifting you up. your eyes are half-lidded, your lips trembling, swollen from the kisses he’s given you, your moans so sweet, sweeter now that he can see you, see what he’s doing to you. “you know what this makes you? being like this, for me? moaning my name, begging for me? hm?”

fuck, you’re so close. so, so close. his fingers, long, curled inside of you, pressing against all the spots you need him to, sloppily fucking you, and his words, the humiliation of it, and his voice, so near you, taunting you like this, and the way he grins at you, so smugly, so confidently. it’s all too much.

“a fucking slut,” he finally says, and the coil within you snaps, spreading a fire along all your nerves. “yeah that’s it; cum for me.” the leg that’s wrapped around his waist falters, but you tense, pressing it tighter around him as your body shakes and shudders, as he fucks you through your orgasm, as you choke and cry and plead.

when you settle down, you find your hands are already pawing at his shorts, tugging at the waistband. there’s a tent formed, his dick no doubt hard. pressing lower, you palm him through his shorts, shakily muttering, “please, fuck me.”

he laughs lowly, his sticky hand coming around to grip at your hip, and obediently, you straighten up, arms wrapping around his neck. he tugs at his shorts, his boxers as well, with his free hand, pulling them down and freeing his cock, allowing it stand stiff against his stomach, leaking from the angry, red tip. the simple sight of it makes your mouth water, and one hand unclasps from behind his neck, reaching down for his cock, but all he does is swat your hand away.

“i can do that myself,” he sneers, gripping his cock tightly, stroking it firmly from the base to the tip, twisting his wrist to collect the precum and smear it along himself. “think i know how to fuck you by now.”

you whine, fingers tangling in his hair as you lean up on your toes, trying to press your hips closer to him. his hand momentarily leaves his cock, which bobs up as he frees it from friction, before his fingers find your panties again. he grabs at the crotch area, and with one, harsh pull, a sharp tag, you hear the snap and stretch of the cloth as he tears through it. “perfect,” he praises, fingers pressing against your slit for good measure, before he finally grabs his cock, and pushes himself closer to you.

“wanna be full, please,” you whisper, and he hums, tapping the head of his cock against your clit, watching in amusement as you shiver. “we don’t have all da—“

he’s sinking inside of you slowly before you can think, before you can breathe, his cock stretching you. oikawa’s different to your boyfriend in so many ways, at least when it comes to fucking you. where ushijima is fast and diligent paces, oikawa is smooth, harshly slow, and you manage to feel him everywhere, all at once. and although your boyfriend’s cock is larger, whenever oikawa bottoms out, you feel him in your throat, because he makes you see stars in ways ushijima could never. of course, there’s guilt residing inside of you. how could you not feel that way? but it’s so easy to forget, with the way oikawa’s pushing into you now, with the way your cunt clamps down on him so tightly that it has him moaning, has him gasping, so, so prettily, in a way ushijima never does.

oikawa looks just as beautiful fucking you as he feels.

the hand on your hip smooths down your thigh to the back of your knee, steadying your leg against him as he manages a pace, one that leaves you trembling, crying out, “more, more, more.” he fucks you till you’re breathless, till you see, hear, and feel nothing but him. he fucks you till your legs ache and your back is sore and your mind is numb. he fucks you till you can cry out nothing but his name. he fucks you so mean, hips snapping against yours so tauntingly, mouth so filthy as he calls you his pretty little whore. his, his, his. you’re all his.

“gonna cum for me?” he wonders, voice strained and you nod, urgently, because yes, yes, for him. beneath your shirt, your tits bounce, nipples grazing against your bra. your skirt is bunched up and you can feel your panties only tight around your waist, the threads dangling helplessly. “fuck, look at this messy cunt. drooling all for me.” he’s right, he’s right. it’s all for him. the way your cunt is dripping and drenching his balls and your thighs and god, fuck, please don’t let it get all over your skirt.

his fingers find your wet, sensitive clit quickly and he rubs uneven circles, so rough and sloppy as he fucks into you. as your body tenses with the oncoming orgasm, your cunt clenches around him, tightening and gripping his cock tighter. “fuck, keep— keep doing that,” he urges, and you do, you try, because of how gorgeous his broken voice had sounded. your cunt squeezes around him as he brings you closer and closer, and just as you tip over, his hand tightens like a vice into the flesh right by your thigh, so harsh that you’re sure it’s gonna bruise, and with a shout, he cums.

fuck, he’s cumming inside. it feels so good.

“tōru,” you sob. “tōru, fuck, so full.”

“yeah,” he sighs, the muscles in his thighs spasming slightly as he fills you up, as he rides out his high, using your pussy. “yeah, so full of my cum.”

the phone in the pocket of your jacket is vibrating, but you can barely feel it through the aftershocks of your orgasm, still processing that you can feel as his cum trickles out of you when he pulls out, and the way your cunt still tightens around the tip of his cock when he pushes it inside to ensure you’re stuffed well even with how sensitive you are.

as he stuffs his now soft cock back in shorts with one hand, he lifts up the leg around his waist, spreading you open, eyes focused on your cunt. “make sure to fuck him tonight, yeah?” he jokes, laughing, and you roll your eyes, desire for him now seeping away, irritation returning.

just as he lowers your leg to help you stand on two feet, your phone buzzes again and you reach for it, hand traveling up to smooth out your hair as oikawa himself fixes himself up.

how are you feeling? i hope that you’re resting

we have warm ups in thirty minutes by the way

darling do you need me to come get you?

or you can sit this one out if you’re still not feeling well

with a sigh, you slump against the wall.

“is it him?”

looking up, you find oikawa observing you with a curious gaze, arms crossed. you never understand why he’ll always ask questions he knows the answer to, questions he doesn’t want answers to. you only give him a nod, before your fingers are typing out a response.

i’ll be there in 10 mins, love

“why won’t you leave him?”

you scoff. “i love him oikawa,” you reason as you lock your phone, shoving it back in your pocket. and you do. you love your boyfriend, more than anyone could imagine.

oikawa sighs, uncrossing his arms and pressing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “no you don’t.”

with a frown, you reply, “who are you to decide that?”

he’s suddenly much closer.

he fixes you with a gaze, responding, “if you really loved him, you wouldn’t be here right now. with me.”

his eyes are honest as they meet yours, and you suddenly feel the need to shrink away, to cower away from his gaze, to hide from it. it pains you every time you agree to meet him, every lie you say, every excuse you make, and yet you still do. you still lie, you still pretend. you continue to give your body to another man, willingly, and then spend the night in the arms of another, in the arms of your lover. and it’s why you know, deep down, that oikawa is right. you wouldn’t be looking for something in oikawa if you didn’t think ushijima wasn’t complete. not for you, at least. you desperately want to love him. he’s so kind, so gentle, so passionate, so strong, so caring, so charming, and so in love with you.

“please,” you say, one hand reaching to settle, to rest, against his chest. “please give me time.”

he sighs. “i’m not going to wait around forever.”

it’s like a strike against your cheek, a punch to your gut, an arrow through your heart. you realize, in that moment, that you’re a victor in no scenario, in no situation. all you’ve done is dug yourself a hole that you can’t clamber out of. so with a pale face, you numbly nod, gaze looking no longer at him, but through him, and then you turn away.

maybe— maybe you just weren’t made for this.

end note; was gonna make this pure filth but i thought, why not add a little bit of,, spice <3 i hope that everyone enjoyed this! and please, don’t cheat on your partners. it’s so cruel. spare them the hurt and the pain and their precious time.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa angst #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima angst #tw cheating

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riddlecrux · 3 years

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Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel meta #pro elain archeron #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #acotar meta #rowaelin #tog

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hansoulo · 4 years

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lead me to the promised land

part two of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - language, kissing, heavy petting, dom!Boba, gagging/choking, marks and bruises of the Spicy nature, hand and finger kink, allusions to canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/tylowen

A/N: good day gremlins i am not very good at updating but i bring u some fun times as penance pls forgive me

༓ series masterlist ༓

7:00 PM: T-MINUS 14 HOURS UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

You were used to being moved around by other people, poked and prodded and lifted up so that stays could be tied or burdensome headpieces be attached to your head. Shuffled around to smile and be proper, sedated by heavy skirts and perfume. It was a fact of life.

Your dress was unlaced by the mechanical hands of an attendant, the change happening quickly and without fond regard from any party. It was early evening now and the sky peeled itself into a burnt orange. If you closed your eyes, you could almost taste citrus.

“Careful, please,” you whispered with a slight wince as the woman’s thin fingers brushed against your neck, both of your reflections cast warm in the mirror you now stood in front of. They were almost-bruises. Little ghost flower petals. Delicate and pretty, trailing behind your neck and not quite noticeable.

The woman only nodded. Servants weren’t ones to ask questions.

⫸ ———————————————————————————— ⫷

3:25 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 35 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The world seemed to tip on its axis, spinning too fast and not at all. It’d only been a minute, maybe two, but Boba’s words hung out to dry in the summer air and there was nothing else to do but wait for the actions to fulfill themselves. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to let him keep kissing you, but you only broke away to warn in a jolted, harsh whisper when his touch became too sharp. “Don’t leave any marks.”

“Are you commanding me?” Boba sneered, his voice slightly cruel as his gloved thumbs rubbed circles into your hip bones. You didn’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, letting his mouth skid over your jaw. Your answering yes or no wouldn’t make much of a difference. You had the feeling he would do what he liked either way. You had the feeling you’d let him.

It was strange, too fast. Too fast because really, what did you know about Boba? Were you even on first name terms? He’d never called you your name, and you’d never called him his. You’d only known of him for a few weeks. Had truly talked to him for even less than that. Maybe you should stay a capitalized Princess and he should be “Fett.” For the sake of clinicality.

Letting him lift you up and onto his lap was most definitely not clinical. “That depends,” you croaked out after a moment, finally looking at his face in your half-stupor. He’d sat you up to face him and you’d gone with, pliable and keening. Being champagne drunk felt like this; like his eyes coal-black and the way he seemed to take up everything in your mind until there was no room for reason. You traced over the scar on his forehead with a light mouth, knees bowed to nestle closer and every muscle in your body flexing, tensed as if dripped over with sunshine. “Are you going to listen?”

The smile of a predator was the only answer he gave you.

⫸ ————————————⫷

3:30 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

Men were vile. They had clammy hands that wandered to your thighs at banquet dinners, slimy mouths when they pressed their lips to your hand in greeting. They were all insufferable and you promised never to go near one as long as you could help it. But promises were a boring thing to keep sometimes. They were much more fun to break.

Boba spoke but it was swallowed in your interlocking mouths, hungry and escalating desperate. You were still sitting with—on?—him, too cowardly to do anything more than kiss and let yourself be felt by the strength of a man’s greed. He tasted like teeth and blood and pink flesh. That was the thing that no one had ever told you about kisses; about men like him. They tasted like broken skin.

You were eating Boba whole. He was eating you piece by piece.

You were just kissing. Had been just kissing for what seemed like ages but was actually only fifteen standard minutes. Fifteen standard minutes for your stays to be dragged loose, your lips to be bitten plush, and both sandals abandoned somewhere in the slow scramble. It wasn’t so much desperation as it was just a sheer curiosity goading your irrationality, but the end result was the same: a man squeezing the back of your neck, calling you lovely in the same breath he called you naive.

“Take them off,” you almost demanded, pulling desperately at his gloves as the warm leather dragged against your fingernails. Learned manners were added in as an afterthought. “Please.”

His one-handed grip on your thigh tightened. It would bruise, likely. Raise questions, definitely. You would have to chalk it up to something else. A fall. A bad trip on a set of stairs. Anything besides what was happening now. The words rumbled against your chest and registered vaguely as a threat. “What was that?”

Huffy and impatient, you answered in a much more keening, undignified echo. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Stuffed was the more apt word. You tried not to think about how he could only fit two of them inside without hurting you. It made you feel temperature-hot, physically burning until your cheeks and your insides twisted into smoldering ash because his fingers breached the alabaster edges of your teeth until they almost gagged you on your own tongue. Boba drew his hand back only when you sighed around it, sedated with fluttering eyes and no longer asking questions. His voice seemed to get deeper, raspier around the unplaceable accent from a place you’d never heard of and probably never would. “Good girl.”

The gloves stayed on. Why they did and why you couldn’t just get him to do what you wanted like everyone else you had no idea, but your frustration quickly ebbed into hazy, sparking pleasure. He called you good. You liked being good.

Your hips stuttered when they caught on Boba’s trousers and suddenly you were giggling into the thick muscle of his shoulder, quiet and juvenile in your own disbelief. Everything about this was absurd and inappropriate, which formed the basis of your amusement. It was something to play with. Someone. Big and shiny in the most literal sense of the word.

The hunter let out what could be construed as a laugh but sounded more akin to a growl and two large palms settled again on the soft rise of your hips. “Not here,” he repeated into your jaw, the words that were previously muffled so long ago now clearer. Not here. Which implied a theoretical somewhere other than here where you would possibly, hypothetically be doing more than- “We need to go.”

You should go. You should be pushing him off of you and running and screaming or something equally inflammatory because this was… because his...

“No,” you protested weakly with a slow shake of your head. Your hands curled around his pauldrons and rested there, limp and slightly shaking. “No, they- they didn’t actually need me for anything. My father just had to—oh Maker-” his cuisse plate pressed up hard between the warm softness of your thighs. “—had to send someone out to search for me—” you rutted against his leg once, twice before the arms around your waist tightened again and inhibited any further attempts at movement. You recovered from the loss of friction quickly, instead letting yourself sag into his solid chest as one set of fingertips dragged along your spine. “—’s just a poor look for him not to,” you finished flippantly, barely audible from where your face settled smushed against the creep of stubble on his cheek. “Bad press.”

“I’ve still got places to be, princess. Even if you don’t.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” you tried replying sarcastically as his mouth flattened against the thin skin of your neck. His lips were soft, but they pressed against you like anything but. You tried rolling your hips again but were thwarted. “Am I in the way of a prior engagement?”

“Something like that.”

“Well then,” you flattened your palms against his chest plate and broke away from the seal of his touch. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t breathe right and looked like you’d been dragged through a sarlacc pit, but he was just sitting there. Watching you. His eyes were hungry though. “Why let me keep you?” The words were shot through with airy exhales as you were lifted up off the smooth stone. “I was under the impression that you hated me,” you continued into Boba’s neck with hands curled around the dark curls at its nape.

You did think that, before… this. Now you didn’t know what to believe, what his intentions were. Most likely they were the same as yours. Nothing good.

Whatever either of your motivations were, they would have to be paused now. For his mysterious, vague “engagement” and probably for the betterment of your health, because you were certain if you stayed here with him, shielded away from prying eyes and marching men, your heart would burst right out of your chest and through your ears.

Your legs wobbled slightly when he set you standing on the ground, Boba’s helmet still laying on the fountain’s edge, and you handed it to him with a reverence that belayed the previous minute’s informality. When it was restored to his head you found yourself mourning the loss of his face. You’d been spoiled this last hour. You didn’t like not seeing it anymore.

“I don’t.” was his short reply. What a wordsmith.

“Aren’t you still my escort?” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell in panted inhales. Wiping haphazardly at your mouth, you leaned over the fountain’s reflection and attempted to compose yourself. The circlet usually pinned neatly to your head lay crooked and loose, glimmering its delicate metals in the daylight as you fussed with it this way and that. The pool of water currently acting as a mirror rippled too much to be of any real use. You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks and mumbled. “My penitentiary guard, more like.”

Boba turned you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders and you imagined his eyes to still be edged in charcoal embers. The last smudge of lipstick on your chin was rubbed away by a broad thumb and you watched, curious to his intentions and surprised at his actions, when he reached up to right your crown.

“Let’s go, princess.”

You didn’t argue. You’d been sated from rebellion for the time being.

⫸ ————————————⫷

4:10 PM: T-MINUS 15 HOURS AND 50 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The mercenary stood by the side entrance watching you.

“You look a mess!” your mother admonished, harried with the exertion of the day’s events that you somehow managed not to be privy to. Apparently there was to be a dinner with the guests leaving the next morning, and apparently you specifically were asked to be present. Both would be dull pieces of information on the best of days but now, after the events that had just transpired, they were positively brain-numbing.

The queen consort motioned for you to turn around and you complied with a slow spin as your being was examined for minor casualties. Once the woman assured herself of your being alive and unharmed, barely registering the tall figure that stood mere yards away, she allowed herself more frantic inquiries as she shuffled you down the hallway. “What were you doing out there?”

“Oh nothing,” you answered vaguely, eyes trailing as far back towards the doors as they could go without actually turning your head. There was a flash of green armor. “I just wanted to take a walk, is all.” You turned to her and smiled your best attempt at a brilliant, royal-white assurance. “Clear my head.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fanfic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine #boba fett

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Text

Sunkissed [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT; foreplay, oral (m! receiving), spanking, slight exhibitionist kink, cum facial, rough, Maxwell is a subtle (?) asshole.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only.

Author's note: YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT. This whole one shot is based off this gif alone. I wish we got to see more of Yacht!Max in the movie because wowww this was a look.

Masterlist

Today was the day.

A few months ago, your agent called you with an opportunity you just couldn't resist. You were new to the 'acting' world, having only scored gigs in a toothpaste commercial and a local theatre production. This was different though; your agent stating there was a spot available for an infomercial. You weren't sure what to think. You imagined it being for some boring historical or political campaign and scrunched your nose up in displeasure. Nevertheless, you needed the money and all the experience you could get, so you prepped and went to the audition.

You were surprised when the directions your agent gave you took you to Black Gold Cooperative. You waited in a small room amongst a dozen other girls, before the CEO, Maxwell Lord, came padding in, doting his famous television smile. He hummed in delight, looking around, his eyes flicking between each girl. He pursed his lips together but didn't say a word, before pointing a ring clad finger at you and wiggling it in the air. "You're hired!" he grinned, his voice rich and filled with vibrancy. You knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment, wanting to say something, but he was already gone. The other girls sighed and huffed, slowly disbanding and leaving the room. You were the last to leave, hesitantly standing up and tugging on the arm of a woman who worked in the office.

"I got the part," you bit your lip nervously and the blonde woman nodded her head, listening carefully. "But I don't really know what for."

"Mr Lord is shooting a new infomercial to promote the company, to try and boost investments." the lady explained.

"But I didn't even audition." you replied, genuinely confused.

"Why would you need to audition? Mr Lord is the star of all his infomercials. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty," the woman in the pink pant suit looked down at her clipboard. "We don't start shooting until summer, but we'll mail you all the details closer to the time." And with that, she was whisked away. You stood there in the middle of the office, completely dumbfounded.

About a week ago, you had got the details just as she promised. You showed up at the harbour fifteen minutes early that morning with a small case full of clothes that would last you the weekend. That's what you were promised as payment for the infomercial. Not cash, but a weekend away on Maxwell Lord's five star private yacht. To be honest, you'd rather have the money, but you'd never been on a yacht before, so you were looking forward to the experience.

"Right!" the director called, pulling her headphones down around her neck. "Mr Lord won't be boarding until noon so… just do as you please until then, but try and not cause any havoc," you looked around. It was only you and four other girls who'd be starting alongside the businessman. "He'll be boarding from a different harbour so we'll be sailing out there in around fifteen minutes. I'd recommend you all get ready for shooting."

You felt isolated. It seemed like the four other girls were quick to befriend one another, giggling and chatting about everything and anything. You didn't usually consider yourself shy but they seemed so different to you. You felt like an outcast.

You sighed, entering the yacht and finding your cabin. You spent a few moments settling in and adjusting yourself to the room before remembering the director had advised you all to get dressed and ready for shooting. You looked outside the small round window and couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful, hot Summer's day. You stripped out of your clothes and into a floral bikini you'd forked out and purchased especially for today. You did your best to style your hair, but figured it was pointless knowing the salty sea air would get to it anyway. You felt like you had forgotten to grab something, but shrug it off, heading back outside to the deck of the ship. The golden sun rays beamed onto your skin and it felt amazing. Deciding you had a few hours, you placed down a towel and lay on the floor to sunbathe. You could hear the faint laugher of the girls who must've been gossiping elsewhere on the yacht, but you were thankful for a few moments of relaxation before shooting began.

You fell asleep. You didn't know how long you were out for, but it was long enough. You woke up when a cool shadow loomed over you, cutting away the sun beams and sending a shiver down your body. You slowly fluttered your eyes open, them widening when you saw who was standing before you.

Maxwell Lord.

Shit, had you really been asleep that long? You groaned apologetically, sitting upright and hoping you weren't in trouble. Maxwell was doting a blue and white vertical pinstripe button down, the top three buttons undone showing just enough of his bronzed chest to create a weakness in the pit of your stomach. His hair was golden under the sunlight, and he sported a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. Upon inspecting closer, they looked like limited edition RayBans. He didn't stay a word, just stared at your body hungrily, admiring the way it was spread out.

"I-" you started. "Have we- have we started shooting? Shit, did I sleep through it?" you asked nervously and Maxwell couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"No, we start shooting in half an hour," he replied, shaking his head. Something about his presence still made you nervous. He sank to his knees, resting beside you and didn't tear his gaze from your body once. He placed his large, ring clad hand over your stomach. "Hot." he commented.

"Huh?" your eyes widened almost comically. Was he calling you hot? You shuddered under his touch, and it didn't go unnoticed by Max.

"Yeah, you're hot," his voice was gravelly and sensual as he began to trace his finger around your belly button, admiring the softness of your skin. "Quite literally burning up."

"Ohhhhh," you drawled out, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For a second you thought he was coming onto you. And suddenly, you knew what he meant. You had fallen asleep under the sun for what might've been hours. It's not like you were going to be cold. "Oh right, yeah. I knew I forgot something. Sunscreen."

Max laughed light heartedly and it almost put you at ease, that is if you weren't already so nervous from his soft and delicate touches. "Don't fear," he smiled, dragging his fingers along your tummy. "Max is here." He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from nowhere and presented you with it, a small and dorky 'ta-da!' escaping his lips. "May I?" he asked, slowly pushing you back down onto the towel that you were previously laying on.

It was hard to read his expression through the sunglasses, but you noted his quirked eyebrow and the wicked smirk that played across his lips.

"Okay." you affirmed with a reassuring smile. Maxwell pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to read the back of the product he was holding. For a second, you caught a glimpse of his dark, chocolate coloured eyes.

"This lotion has biotin in it, makes you glow like a teenager. Great for when you're in front of a camera," Maxwell explained as you heard him click open the cap and squirt some of the product into his hands. "Let me do your back first."

You wasted no time, following his instruction and turning over. Maxwell spent a moment, admiring the way your body was shaped so beautifully. His eyes trailed from the nape of your neck, down the dip of your back and along the curve of your ass. Your swimsuit panties left very little to the imagination and Max could already feel himself getting turned on, his cock twitching as he began to rub the cream into your shoulders. You hummed at the pressure of both of his hands as he worked at you.

"You know, I remember you," his voice was friendly and approachable, so much so that it almost distracted you from what he was doing to you. "I remember you from all those months ago. I remember the way you stood out from the other girls. There was just something about you I couldn't put into words… but now I see it." he didn't describe what exactly he saw but you could feel the butterflies stir in your stomach at his compliment. "I mean, look at you. You have a body that will sell. And I mean that in the best way possible." you felt his fingers play with the string that kept your bikini together. "May I?" he asked again. "Want to make sure I get every piece of your skin." he murmured.

"Yes," you breathed out, a little too shakily. With a gentle tug, the string came undone and Maxwell continued to rub the lotion down your body, his large hands travelling to the small of your back.

"This ass too," he hummed, giving you a little spank. You gasped, tossing your head back in pleasure. "Oh I see, you like that, don't you?" he chuckled, smacking you again but this time a little harder. You moaned, your lips parting into a perfect 'o' shape. He spent a considerable amount of time rubbing the silky lotion into the curves of your ass cheeks before working himself down the backs of your legs and to your feet. "Turn around and let me get your front."

You eagerly did as you were told. You rolled over, forgetting your bikini top had been untied from the back and gasped slightly when the thin, colourful material exposed your breasts. Maxwell tsked, shaking his head. You used your hands to cover your chest as the straps fell down your arms. "Don't worry darling, you don't have to hide yourself in front of me." he chuckled, slowly peeling your hands away from your body. He pulled off your bikini top and threw it aimlessly to one side.

He took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted a little more into his hands, before smothering it all over your chest. He dipped his fingers into your collarbones and gently stroked down the valley of your breasts. He got your stomach again, rubbing in the cream and making sure not to miss a single inch of skin. You moaned wantonly as his fingers glided across the hem of your bikini panties, slipping in just under the waistband teasingly.

You reached out, grabbing a hold of his wrists and dragging them back up to your chest, placing each of his hands so they were cupping your breasts. He squirted some more lotion, this time straight on your tits, and started to massage it into your soft skin. He still looked composed, despite his hard and leaking manhood pressed against the confines of his cream coloured, fitted pants.

His thumb grazed the bud of your nipples, even occasionally pinching at them to see if he could gain a reaction out of you. You moaned wantonly, feeling your folds grow slick with arousal as he teased you. Maxwell positioned himself on top of you, leaning down and pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple and sucking on it greedily.

"Mm, what if someone sees?" you managed to whimper out as Max pulled away from you with a 'pop'.

"Don't worry princess, they're all preoccupied elsewhere. But we don't have long until the shoot begins and oh… look what you've done to me." Max pressed his crotch against your thigh so you could feel the thick, hard imprint of his cock. "You're gonna have to take care of this, sweet girl." he muttered, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching manhood.

You gasped as you took in the size of him, subconsciously licking your lips greedily. Max rose to his feet, jerking himself off as he walked over to the metal bars that gated the edge of the yacht. He looked over into the ocean, slowly pumping his length with one hand and with his free hand, he pulled up his sunglasses so they were resting in his hair. He turned back to you and pointed a finger, curling it and gesturing for you to come over. You didn't stand up, instead, crawling towards him with a primal glint in your eyes. Max leaned against the cool bars as the wind gently breezed through his hair and you straightened yourself up. You stayed down on your knees as you gently pulled Maxwell's hand away from his dick.

You felt your mouth begin to water with anticipation as Max's hands fell into your hair. You ran your fingers down his cock to tease the CEO the best you could, knowing full well this might be the only time you'd be able to exert your dominance over someone as powerful as Maxwell Lord. Max grunted under your delicate touch, and began to subconsciously thrust himself into your hand.

Eventually, you leaned in to lick the tip of his cock. You found yourself lapping at his small slit which was leaking with his salty precum. Your small kitten licks earned groans of pleasure and praise from Maxwell as he quietly begged for more. Max's breathing got heavier and he started to exhale sharp sighs, everytime you swirled your tongue against the tip of his cock. You finally sunk your mouth down as deep as you could, and Max's breathing became shallow as he mewled a string of dirty curses.

You cupped his balls with your hands, playing with them as you deepthroated the businessman to the best of your ability. You ignored the way tears pricked your eyes and your saliva mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin. Max Lord always liked to take control, and he began to thrust his cock deep into your mouth. But as always, he craved more. He craved for something warmer and wetter. He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled your head away from his manhood so his cock bounced against your face.

"Stand up." he commanded and you did so with a wobble. He pulled you over to where he was standing and bent you over the side of the ship, pulling your bikini bottoms down quickly and roughly. He spanked you again, earning a pretty little wail of surprise.

You felt him line his cock up against your soaking wet folds as his tummy pressed into your ass. He rubbed the tip against your entrance teasingly until you were crying out his name and begging him to fuck you.

When he finally pushed his length into you, you couldn't help but scream. You gasped, your fingers curling around the metal bars so hard your knuckles turned white as he set up a brutal and rough page. His movements were unforgiving as he fucked you so hard and fast, your poor legs felt like they were going to give way. But he had you pinned against the barrier, and the way he mumbled sweet nothings and appraisal into your ear only spurred you on more. He told you how much of a good girl you were for taking his cock so well. He warned that if you kept screaming, you'd alert the filming crew. He'd tease you, nibbling and biting gently at the skin as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

"Gonna cum," you warned, your moans becoming erratic as he kept pushing into that perfect sweet spot inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tighter than a vice as you came. But he didn't stop fucking you. Your body ached as he used your pussy to bring himself to his own climax.

"Ngh— fuck!" Max cried out as he doubled back, pulling out of you and pushing you back down onto your knees. He jerked himself rapidly and you noted the way his cock throbbed in his hands. "Gonna make a mess off your pretty face." he chuckled darkly. "Mouth. Open."

You did as you were told, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as Max's salty load roped into your mouth. At least— most of it got into your mouth. His eyes slammed shut and his cum sprayed onto your face and dripped down your chin and onto your chest. You couldn't believe how pent up he was. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a small nod. You closed your mouth and swallowed his load with a hum of approval, licking your lips and fluttering your eyelashes.

"Five minutes until shooting!" you heard the director call and you gasped. Max smirked, taking a mental image of how sexy you looked with his cum splayed all over you.

"You better clean yourself up." Max laughed, taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

You were at a complete loss for words. Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and your whole body was slippery with the sunscreen Max had applied earlier. Max grabbed the towel that you were once lying on and threw it in your direction. You noticed he had already tucked himself back into his pants, and, other than the few strands of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of place, he looked ready to go.

You wondered how often he did this. How often he fucked his employees on set before he shot important commercials or infomercials. There was something about his energy that thrilled you and filled your body with desire. He left you wanting more. And, knowing you'd be spending the whole weekend with him on this yacht, part of you figured this wouldn't be the last time he'd touch you like this.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)~

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww84

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thatslikely · 4 years

Text

A Slow Dance - G.W.

A Slow Dance- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: none! pure fluff <3

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: y’all I’m serious. where’s my George. I need someone like this asap, don’t be shy universe. hope you guys enjoy as always :)

Just a Reminder: song lyrics/thoughts are in italics [I imagined is Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka, but any song works]

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa

if you want to be added, send me a dm or an ask!

Requested by the lovely @amourtentiaa [my first request I’ve gotten, and I love it!]

----

“Ugh. Why do you have to sit hunched over your desk studying all the time? Have at least a little fun! It’s our last year at Hogwarts!” A sprawled out George exclaimed from your ruffled four-poster bed with a groan. His handsome face hung off the edge of the bed frame, his upside-down gaze fixed on your distracted figure.

George was always quite needy; it was practically a law of nature. Whether it was running around pulling a record-breaking marathon of pranks, or just tenderly holding his large, soft hand while discussing your favorite novel, he lapped up every ounce of you he could.

“Georgie, if I don’t do well on my N.E.W.T.s, how do you expect me to get a decent job?” you asked with a bit more bite than you intended. The complex, academic sentences scribbled onto the parchment before you droned through your brain like headache-inducing white noise, which soured your attitude more than you liked to admit.

It made your heart flutter knowing that George yearned for your care so much, but you had your whole life to spend with the vexatious redhead. You only had the next week to pass your N.E.W.T.s.

“You’ll always have a job down with me at the shop, c’mon! Imagine: my two favorite things wrapped up into one!” he said, before adding more softly, “plus, you’d look so cute in the uniform.” You couldn’t help your cheeks from heating up at his affectionate comment, which wasn’t intended to grace your ears.

“I wish it was simple as that, Georgie. While I’d love to work with you at the shop, you know that’s not what I really want to do. You always tell me to shoot for the moon, and this is just part of the process.” You were unrelenting with your studying, which George of course admired, but he was equally relentless in his pursuit of spending time with you, even if it was just for a second.

The dorm fell suspiciously quiet, which allowed your mind to delve even deeper into your studies. The strokes of your quill grew deeper and sharper into the parchment with focus, the ink-blotted tip eventually tearing a small rip mid-sentence.

A breath that you unknowingly held escaped your lips in the form of an exasperated sigh. You rubbed your temples before picking up the quill and starting again.

You mindlessly scribed cursive onto the dense paper for several minutes before snapping out of your trance at the jarring noise of a chair’s legs scraping across the hardwood floors. George took the vacant seat next to you, resting his elbow on the surface of the desk.

His handsome face rested comfortably in his palm, his whole body turned towards you. You could’ve sworn his mischievous but lovable gaze flickered to your soft lips every few seconds like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole.

Stop thinking about George, and his delicious lips, alluring cocoa-colored eyes, fluffy red hair… think about Transfiguration!

Your quill-wielding wrist moved in more furious motions, your determination to stay devoted to your academics made your eyes drift to the smug titian-haired boy next to you more than ever. You eventually succumbed to your heart’s desires, giving George a small glance.

The expression George donned shattered your expectations; you expected his eyes to be droopy and half-asleep, jaw-slacked in boredom, evidenced by his disdain of all things school-related.

Instead, however, his red tongue stuck out to his chin, his index fingers pulling apart his freckled cheeks. His mocha eyes were humorously crossed, fixed on his adorable aquiline nose. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“What’re you doing, Georgie? You look absurd!” you questioned with a hefty chuckle. His eyes lit up with triumph at the laugh fleeing your lips.

“I’m getting your eyes off that stupid piece of parchment! You’ve been writing nonsense on it for the past quarter of an hour. You need a break.”

“Just let me study a bit more, then I promise I’ll spend some time with you, okay?” you bargained, hoping for compliance. You pivoted your head back to the strewn papers resting on the mahogany desk in front of you, ready to get back into a productive rhythm.

The welcome rhythm never stayed for long though, for it was always disrupted by George making another goofy face. He’s just being a child, you thought, you’re a seventh year. Ridiculous faces aren’t funny. Oh how wrong you were.

With every new expression that graced his features, another laugh threatened to escape your mouth. Soon enough, your eyes were steadily fixed on the frivolous ginger, ready for what face he would come up with next.

Your brain was locked in a battle: George and his loveable humor, versus your Transfiguration notes and passing your N.E.W.T.s. Both were hardy competitors, but in the end, McGonagall’s subject prevailed. George got up from the seat next to you with a huff, blowing a stray red strand of hair up from his forehead.

He paced around the large room, scheming a way to get your undivided attention. He peeked around the wooden shelves and dressers that stayed pressed against the walls of the dorms, looking for something, anything.

His eyes eventually settled on the record player on your nightstand by your bed. It was a muggle device that his father had ranted about many times before, and he guessed that he could probably figure out how to work it.

His calloused fingers plucked the top inky-black vinyl record from the stack, feeling the textured grooves engraved in its surface. He set the record in place, dropping the needle not long after. The previously pin-drop silent room quickly came to life with the enrapturing sounds of harmonious chords.

It appeared that even the universe wanted to free you from the shackles of your boring notes, for the vinyl George happened to choose was your favorite song, and a slow, romantic one at that.

George lightly tapped your back, causing you to swivel around towards him. He had his long, toned arm outstretched to you charmingly, beckoning you for a dance. You gingerly placed your palm into his and he swiftly pulled you out of the chair and into the middle of the floor.

His face was handsome as ever; you only just now realized how much you missed all of him. His gentle touch, his honey-pooled eyes, the pure love pumping through his veins. His hands rapturously rested on your waist, yours’ wrapped around the nape of his neck. You twirled a small section of his red hair in between your fingers, which only made the lovestruck grin on his face grow bigger.

The song continued to echo through the cozy walls of the room, the unified swaying of your hips in sync with the song’s slow beat. You nearly melted in his warm embrace, his arms gradually bringing you closer and closer to his beating chest.

You eventually rested your head on George’s shoulder, feeling the soothing vibrations of his vocal chords humming along with the notes of the song.

Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once, baby?

As if the song had you two lovebirds under a spell, George slowly brought his lips to yours, giving you a slow and passionate kiss.

He’d kissed you so many times before, but this time it felt different, in the best way possible. It was as if angels sang when your lips graced his’; you could taste his feelings through the connection, his devotion and longing for you overriding your senses. Your eyes teared up at the wave of endearing emotions that overcame you.

The sensual dancing continued long through the night, the tender and enchanting kisses and slow sways wiping your mind of the stressful upcoming exams.

“Feel better, darling?” George breathily mumbled into your ear, the warmth from his mouth shooting directly to your heart, coating your body with goosebumps.

All your hazy, smitten mind could respond with was a simple but passionate, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

Text

This started as a pwp praise kink idea. The praise stayed, but the pwp did not. Perhaps I will give it another go, but in the meantime, have 4,000 words of emotional hurt/comfort instead I guess. 😅

Read on AO3

Geralt is what Jaskier cheerfully describes as "forever years old" when he discovers that okay, maybe he is just the littlest bit affected by… actually he’s not sure what one would call this. He’s not even sure if it’s specifically what was said or just the act of being spoken to like a person in a vulnerable moment. Either way, it’s more than a little unexpected, but that’s not actually the problem. After all, everyone finds themselves unraveled by something a little unorthodox now and again, and in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t really all that weird.

No. The problem is that he learns it at exactly the same time Jaskier does, and it would be embarrassing enough if the bard were just some accidental bystander. But no, Geralt couldn’t get that lucky either. It’s very definitely in response to Jaskier and that is nothing short of mortifying. Whatever longing Geralt might privately harbor, Jaskier has never given any indication that it might be a mutual feeling, and so their companionship is very definitely not Like That.

It's a perfect storm that leads to this discovery.

The contract is a disaster in every sense of the word. Somehow, after all these years, there’s still some tiny part of him that allows for optimism, that remembers a time when he thought he could be a hero. There’s no room to be an idealist in his line of work, but the opportunity was right there. The monster was just an unfortunate curse to break. There were people who might be still alive to save. Stupidly, he let himself believe that this is the kind of contract he always hopes for, where just this once no one has to die.

But of course, that isn’t how it goes. The creature is worse for his meddling, leaving the man underneath tortured by a few seconds of horrified lucidity before the curse consumes him again. The creature dies by Geralt’s sword and as its blood drips from the blade, the witcher takes in his surroundings. It’s dark, but Geralt does not need to see to recognize a graveyard made up of all the people he failed.

Even Jaskier is subdued, largely silent on the walk back to the village. He’d had the good sense to stay out of the cave, or else maybe it was just too dark. Whatever the reason, if Geralt is granted any small mercy in this whole debacle, it’s that Jaskier is not in there among the dead, that he did not become another life the witcher couldn’t preserve.

The villagers are understandably as dismayed as Geralt is, and he makes for an easy target. He tolerates the shouting and cruel accusations. He stays Jaskier’s hand when the bard tries to come to his defense. They’re grieving people, desperate to shed the weight of their loss, and he can bear it.

The innkeeper does not turn him away at least, though Geralt suspects it has something to do with the very pointed look Jaskier is giving the man. It matters little if it means he can bathe in peace and fall into a miserable sleep and just… start over again tomorrow.

Death clings to Geralt like a film he can never quite wash from his skin, but oh how he tries. There’s an echo of blood and ichor that he just can’t shake, and by the time Jaskier comes to bring him clean clothes, he’s rubbed his forearms red.

Whatever scene he’s expecting, whatever reproach he anticipates, it never comes. He’s too strung out to put up much of a fight when Jaskier eases the washrag from his clenched fist. Jaskier gives him an uncomfortable smile that would be hilarious in some other context, waving awkwardly at Geralt’s head. “I’m just going to, ehm, your hair is sort of-”

“Covered in blood. I know,” Geralt fills in the gap in that sentence tersely. It’s not pity, not from Jaskier, but it drifts too close for comfort and the witcher doesn’t know what else to do but lash out. That’s not fair either though, and once Geralt has taken a breath he relents. “Get on with it.”

Jaskier does. Quietly even, which would seem suspicious or worrisome under normal circumstances. Geralt just happens to be too worn down to do anything but count his blessings and appreciate the silence as Jaskier works the tangles (and who knows what else) from his hair. He tries to close his eyes, but every time he does, it plays out behind his eyelids, forcing him to wrench them back open again.

“It’s not your fault. You do know that, right?” Jaskier’s voice is soft, and really, Geralt must look truly miserable for him to forgo their usual playfully scathing banter. “You did everything they asked of you and then some. There was nothing else left.”

Geralt doesn’t reply because what can he say? What could possibly wipe the memory of this colossal failure from his mind? It’s a gift of some sort that Jaskier doesn’t press Geralt to respond. He just hums a quiet tune while he painstakingly washes the mess out of the witcher’s hair.

“It wasn’t enough,” Geralt says very softly when he dredges up the will to speak. Jaskier’s thumbs rub down the nape of his neck, and he bows his head to it in silent surrender. The comfort is unearned, but he’s blank enough to crave it anyway.

“That’s not on you, Geralt. It’s like you genuinely don’t have a clue how... good you are. I mean, you’re a grumpy pain in the ass for sure, but still. You were good to the villagers even if they didn’t do a damned thing to earn it. You’re sweet to children and pets and...to me.” Jaskier suddenly seems very close, so near that when he speaks, his warm breath flits along the shell of Geralt’s ear. “I know I get on your every last nerve, and you haven’t turned me away. You might do it with a lot of scowling and insults, but you… are still very good to me.”

Geralt’s breath catches on what is definitely not a whimper, but what he’d probably classify as one if literally anyone else had made that sound. He’s been brought so low and Jaskier sounds so honest. He could have maybe gotten by without notice, but in the bath with Jaskier's hands in his hair and on his skin, there’s really no passing off the sound he makes as anything other than the desperate, needy thing it is.

“I punched you the first time we met,” Geralt points out, because he’s right on the precipice of something and urgently needs to back away from the edge. He tries glowering at Jaskier over his shoulder, but it turns out to be a grave mistake. Geralt is used to weariness and disappointment in the muted way he feels them. But this is a fragility he doesn’t know how to contend with, the brittle surface cracking when Jaskier gazes back at him like he’s anything other than a monster.

“I… probably had that coming,” Jaskier mumbles. Though Geralt has stopped looking, he can feel the shift in Jaskier’s posture suggesting that he’s sheepishly ducking his head. It’s an out of the ordinary thing, Jaskier owning his foibles, but Geralt doesn’t even get the opportunity to wrap his head around that before the bard swings a hammer at whatever defenses the witcher has left. “You’re good to me when it counts.”

Geralt doesn’t believe a word of it, but here and now he wishes quite desperately that he could. He longs to trust the warmth that slides like honey down his spine and settles at the base of it. He wants so badly to be what Jaskier names him as.

In retrospect, it’d probably be less humiliating if it were a sex thing. Jaskier has a penchant for oversharing and probably wouldn’t bat an eye. But it’s not as straightforward as that, even if the praise Jaskier wraps Geralt up in leaves him wanting. This is more, a bone deep sort of yearning that sits like a brick behind his breastbone, heavy and terribly misplaced.

The notion sneaks in that Jaskier just might see through him. He might recognize that despite the veneer of indifference Geralt puts out into the world, tonight the witcher is one stray thought away from a breakdown. He protects himself the only way he knows how, shrugging out from under where Jaskier’s hands have come to rest on his shoulders. “I don’t need help. Get out.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s brows furrow with concern. Frustratingly, the bard’s hand smooths over Geralt’s hair. Even more frustratingly, it’s a fight not to lean into the touch despite everything.

He snarls because it’s safer than the shaky thing in his chest, the thing that clings to the idea that there’s a version of the world where he is worthwhile. “Get. Out.”

Jaskier holds his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised and that’s all the more maddening.

Jaskier gives him space, to bathe in peace and then to irritably crawl into bed. It’s only when Jaskier must think he’s fallen asleep that the bard curls up around his back, nose pressed to the nape of his neck. He hasn’t earned the comfort he’s being offered, but cannot help himself taking it anyway.

They do not speak of that night again.

*****

They do not speak of it, but Jaskier thinks about it an amount that is probably just a bit inappropriate. He recounts the punched out sound Geralt made at something so simple as a little well deserved absolution. He commits the little shudder of Geralt’s shoulders under his hands to memory. But most of all, Jaskier aches at the way Geralt had snarled about it, so convinced of his own unworthiness. This bridge isn’t Jaskier’s to cross though, so he secrets away the desire to do so and satisfies himself with whatever small kindnesses Geralt will tolerate.

But tragedy is rarely a one time occurence, even in an easy life. And Geralt’s life is anything but easy. It’s only a matter of time before everything comes down around his ears again.

It’s not even a hunt this time, not a monster but a mage. It’s just a spell gone wrong, and there was nothing Geralt could’ve done to contain it. They were too close, and Jaskier is pretty sure the only reason he even made it out in one piece was that Geralt shielded him with some sign that protected him from the worst of the blast.

Now, spotting Geralt’s still form among the rubble, it’s clear to Jaskier what his safety cost the witcher. He picks his way across the rubble as quickly as he dares, fighting to keep the fear from his voice. “Geralt?”

“Ngh.” It’s a reply, if not much of one, but it’s only Geralt when blinks blearily at him a couple of times and scowls that the terror Jaskier feels begins to settle.

He doesn’t know what to say. Jaskier is tempted to crack a joke and make light of the situation. It’s how he copes. It’s just that, they weren’t alone in this building, and judging from the quietly defeated look on Geralt’s face, the witcher is already thinking about that.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal.” Jaskier holds out a hand to Geralt, but he ignores it as he staggers to his feet. “But it’s not all hopeless. Because of you, they can’t ever harm anyone else again.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt’s expression shutters, but Jaskier doesn’t need to be able to read the witcher’s emotions to know he’s thinking about all the people that outcome isn’t good enough for. As hyper sensitive as Geralt’s senses are, Jaskier can’t help but suspect that the rocks aren’t enough to hide what’s buried within the ruins, so he tries to steer Geralt back towards their camp. There’s nothing else they can do in this place but mourn.

“Are you okay to walk?” Jaskier doesn’t like the idea of leaving Geralt here to get help, but he also doesn’t want to inadvertently make things worse.

“I’m fine.” Geralt takes a step and then another. They’re wobbly, but he does manage to stay upright.

“You sure? A building exploded with you, you know, in it.” Jaskier is sort of sorry for pressing even before Geralt glowers at him.

“I said I’m fine.” Geralt repeats himself, and there’s no progress to be made pressing any further about it.

Jaskier knows better than to offer his support despite the fact that Geralt is limping at his side. If the witcher is not actively falling over, his attempts to help are likely to be ill received. He tries very hard to ignore it, even if it makes his heart twist up in his chest, but that all flies out the window when they finally come to a stop at camp, where the ground beneath them is dry dirt rather than grass and leaves, and there’s no missing the blood sluggishly pooling at Geralt’s feet.

“Geralt. For the love of- You’re bleeding. Sit down.” Jaskier grouses, more irritated at himself for not noticing than anything else.

To his shock, Geralt sits without complaint, though Jaskier suspects that is more out of exhaustion than any sudden desire to be cooperative. With a pained hiss, Geralt works to rid himself of his armor while Jaskier gathers supplies, so maybe he means to cooperate after all. That’s either very good or very bad.

Very bad, Jaskier decides, grimacing at the deep gash in Geralt’s side beneath where his rib cage ends. It’s not a clean cut the way a claw or a blade might be, probably a product of part of a building dropping on him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes out, kneeling to try and staunch the bleeding enough to properly stitch it back up.

“I’m okay Jaskier,” Geralt insists. That he’s gritting his teeth on a low moan when Jaskier presses on his wounded flank is… not really helping his case.

“Great. You can continue to be okay while you sit there and let me stitch this up.” It comes out a little more tartly than Jaskier had meant, but Geralt doesn’t even seem to notice.

He does, however, sit still. That Geralt is quiet while Jaskier threads a needle isn’t out of the ordinary. But Jaskier looks at the witcher’s face and finds a great deal more than weariness there.

Jaskier lets it go at first, the task at hand more pressing. It’s only when he’s on his third stitch and Geralt is still staring miserably out towards the trees that he gently chastises the witcher. The expression isn’t an unfamiliar one, and Jaskier hates it every time. “Stop it.”

Geralt’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t look at Jaskier. “Stop what?”

“Insisting on taking on burdens that aren’t yours to carry.” There’s a needle in one hand and blood on both of them, so the tactile methods he’d usually use to soothe are no good. Jaskier tries words instead, already knowing they’ll be rejected. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was a great deal less awful than it might have been because of you.”

On the bright side, Geralt doesn’t immediately snap at him. It might have something to do with the fact that he’s actively stitching the witcher up. Geralt doesn’t even look at Jaskier, but his expression is stormy and tense. Jaskier bites his tongue for another couple of stitches before he decides this is a sort of misery he can’t leave alone. So, he tries again. “When we first met, you really didn’t like me. And I know you’re making a face. Stop it. Just because I ignored the fact that you found me aggravating doesn’t mean I didn’t recognize it.”

“I’m making a face because you said that all past tense.” There’s a note of what might be humor there, and Jaskier doesn’t even care if the joke is at his expense under the circumstances.

Jaskier huffs out a fondly exasperated breath. “That’s very rude, but I’m going to let it go this time because you’re bleeding all over my hands. My point is that you gave me - someone you actively disliked - coin you didn’t have to spare.”

Geralt is quiet for so long that Jaskier thinks he might actually be listening. He probably is even, but his reply is too close to their usual banter, like he can’t stomach the idea of having a conversation that matters. “With songs like that, it seemed like you could use all the help you could get.”

“Oh, haha. Very funny. I realize it wasn’t my best work.” He’s trying, really, and it’s hard not to deflate in the face of Geralt’s resistance. Jaskier stares down at his current task and that could be the end of it. But the last time they went down this road still haunts him, and Jaskier is determined to try again, hopefully without being run off this time around. “Okay, if you’re going to be like that. In the last village, you let a little girl hire you to check her closet for monsters.”

There’s a clear sense of suspicion in the way Geralt narrows his eyes at Jaskier, but all the witcher says is, “Why would I turn down a paying contract?”

“Geralt.” Despite everything, Jaskier is pretty certain he’s never loved anyone in his life as much as he does Geralt right now. “She paid you in rocks.”

“They had value to her.” It’s endearingly defensive, but Geralt is justifying himself rather than running Jaskier off, so the bard counts it as an improvement.

Regardless, it’s not the message Jaskier is trying to get across. “I know. But you can’t exactly get provisions or a room at an inn with a pocketful of pebbles. And then there was Goose Hollow. You snuck that woman’s payment back into her kitchen.”

The witcher’s nose crinkles in distaste. Jaskier knows why he did it, but Geralt seems to feel the need to remind him anyway. “She’d just lost her husband to that kikimore and she had a baby on the way. I could make do without. Not sure she could’ve.”

“Right. You’re absolutely right, and that’s what I’m getting at,” Jaskier says, giving up on the idea that Geralt might have at least enough sense of self worth to reach this conclusion on his own. That’s clearly not the case, so Jaskier opts to connect the dots. “These are things you acknowledge, things you act on, because you are kind.”

Annnnnnnd there it is, the point at which Geralt can’t pretend he doesn’t understand what Jaskier is trying to communicate. He growls, shifting like he means to get up. “Fuck off.”

Jaskier pinches Geralt’s hip, well below where the bruising from the wound stops. “Do. Not. I have a needle literally stuck through you. You’re a good person whether you acknowledge it or not, so stop being dramatic and trying to flounce off just because someone said something that clashes with your self loathing.”

The scowl doesn’t leave Geralt’s face, but by some miracle, he does settle. “Oh, I’m dramatic?”

Bowing his head to hide a smile, Jaskier goes back to work. He wishes he could stay made for even a moment, but there’s just nothing for it. “What with the growling and glaring and stalking needlessly off into the trees or whatever nonsense you were planning? As someone who is personally very well versed in dramatics, yes.”

There’s no scathing or witty retort so it would be easy to assume Geralt is ignoring him when Jaskier is met with silence, but the bard knows better. It’s subtle things, an evening out of Geralt’s breathing, a shift in his posture, and though the seconds drag out, stretched like taffy, he’s not surprised when the witcher says very softly. “I didn’t know you’d noticed.”

And oh, that hurts. Not for the sake of Jaskier’s own feelings, but for the fact that Geralt could share shitty tavern food and too small inn beds and miles of open road for so long and still not recognize that he matters. “Of course I noticed. I always notice you.”

“I don’t think the rocks are going to make for a very interesting song,” Geralt says, and while his tone is clearly meant to convey sarcasm, his gaze is soft and searching, and oh to hell with it all.

“For fuck’s sake. It’s not for a song. I notice because I love you, you absolute twit.” There’s that strange, wounded sound again. The one that makes Jaskier want to wind his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and draw him close. Last time, that had been the preface to Geralt shutting him out entirely, but it doesn’t happen this time. Geralt hardly seems to notice when Jaskier rises after tying off the thread. His whole body goes stiff when Jaskier succumbs to the urge to embrace him, but somehow this time Geralt doesn’t immediately pull away.

With bated breath, Jaskier waits for the awkward stiffness to become a full blown retreat, because surely Geralt does not want his feelings, but the demand to be let go of never comes. Surrender is a quieter, subtler thing than any resistance Geralt put up. It’s a gradual release of the tension holding him bow string taut in Jaskier’s arms, a furtive embrace as Geralt’s hands find their way to curl loosely in the back of Jaskier’s chemise. With a sigh Geralt’s head drops to rest against Jaskier’s shoulder.

Jaskier is prepared, he thinks, for that to be the end of it. There are no strings attached, no conditions riding the tails of his affection. That Geralt didn’t immediately turn him away, that the witcher relents enough to let Jaskier be a source of comfort is enough. Geralt sags a little bit against him and Jaskier commits the feeling to memory, idly smoothing his hand over Geralt’s hair.

It’s still there when Geralt pulls back to look at him, eyes wide with something Jaskier might describe as wonderment.

“What?” Jaskier doesn’t give himself permission to hope because that’s not what this is about, but his heart takes off anyway, hammering away in his chest.

“You weren’t afraid of me, even though the only point of reference you had was the stories.” There’s a question in the quiet words Geralt speaks. And Jaskier does know what he means. Rumors of the Butcher of Blaviken were far reaching, and Jaskier had no way of knowing the accuracy of them. So why?

“Well, you’re not nearly as scary as you think you are,” Jaskier says lightly, and then, because the question is there, but Geralt looks afraid of the answer, he adds with a sheepish smile. “Also, you were the one person not throwing food at me, so that was a point in your favor automatically.”

Geralt says nothing at first, but his mouth turns unhappily downward. Jaskier expects annoyance or anger, is used to those things, but this is more akin to grief and he doesn’t know what to do with it. In the wake of it, Jaskier is almost relieved when Geralt speaks again.

“You learned how to do this because we travel together.” Geralt gingerly pries one of Jaskier’s hands from his back, laying it delicately over his wounded side, and no. No, that last point was definitely easier to address. They should go back to things he can make jokes about.

“So what?” Jaskier says, though it comes out more like a croak. And his chest might as well be split open on the faint smile that coaxes from Geralt.

Curious. Jaskier can feel Geralt’s thumb sweep back and forth across his chemise, almost like the witcher is nervous. “You hate blood.”

He’s already said the most terrifying part, and he doesn’t know what Geralt thinks, but the witcher hasn’t left. So really, Jaskier wonders, what is there to be frightened of? “It would be very unfortunate for the both of us if something happened to you.”

“That’s not… I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Geralt mutters, mouth slanted off to the side.

It won’t do. Jaskier has no wish to be a source of frustration when he’s trying to be a comfort, so he lets himself smile and brushes Geralt’s cheek with his knuckles. “I’m sorry. Would you tell me again?”

Jaskier barely gets the words out before Geralt’s lips are brushing, feather light, against his. It’s over as abruptly as it started though Geralt lingers with his forehead pressed to Jaskier’s and his hand cradling the bard’s cheek. “I notice you, too.”

He could live in this moment, Jaskier thinks, just sat here knowing he’s not alone in the things he wants. The circle of Geralt’s arms is a lovely place to linger, so Jaskier lets himself have it even as he says, “In case you missed it, I’m done if you’re still feeling the need to go stomping off in the woods to fume.”

Geralt rarely laughs at anything, but the amused snort Jaskier gets for his trouble is close enough. Even better is the kiss that follows, slow and sweet and full of promise. “Well, someone very obnoxious and very... dear told me it was dramatic, so I thought I’d maybe stay here with you instead.”

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt whump #emotional hurt/comfort #Guest starring Geralt's egregious lack of self-worth #mentions of blood and injury #In which life is hard and Geralt would very much benefit from a hug #conveniently Jaskier would also like to give him one #my fic

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obiwhat · 3 years

Text

thank you so much @volleyball-idiot for the req luv!! sorry it took a lil while, i sort of wrote,,,, a LOT,,, hehehee hope u enjoy!! 🥺🤲💗💗

Always

(AO3)

warnings: violence, language, blood, the usual expedition madness

A knock echoed through Erwin’s office room as the sound of rain on his windowsill threatened to wash it out entirely. But he knew that knock. Three sharps raps on the wood meant his loyal captain. It meant Levi was here, late in the night.

“Come in.”

The door opened quickly as he walked into the room, as familiar with the space as his own office. With a quick glance up he could see Levi’s usually stoic face seemed to be drooping into a deep frown. Erwin knew what had caused it. The captain had heard about the expedition plans. This late night meeting was to be expected, but his nerves still hung low in his stomach.

Levi jumped straight into it.

“Have you seen our numbers from the last recruitment? We don’t have nearly enough trained soldiers to protect the east side. They hardly even know the formation.” Levi pointed out, he didn’t like the look in Erwin’s eyes. It meant he was well aware of the fault in the formation.

“That’s why I will lead from that section.”

“You?” One eyebrow rose. The rest of the section leaders had also seemed concerned when he’d told them this, but most tended to blindly trust his calls. Levi wasn’t like them.

“Yes. Me.” Erwin repeated himself, eyes remaining on his stack of papers below. He knew what he was getting himself into with this plan, including the displeasure it would cause Levi.

“May I ask why the hell you would be the one to lead them?”

It was a fair enough question.

“They will be weaker on that side and I know the formation best, I will be able to instruct them as we go.” Erwin explained, straightening himself.

“That’s the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard. Why don’t we just wait a few weeks and drill some common sense into them?”

“We don’t have the time. You know the interior is pressuring us to have new reports by next week. If we don’t deliver again, they’ll defund us entirely. The expedition will commence as planned tomorrow morning.”

“Erwin.”

Levi’s teeth were gritting together, Erwin finally peeled his eyes from the paper below to truly look at him. He was practically oozing with anger, confusion, something else he couldn’t name. He wanted to look away as soon as he’d seen him.

“I won’t let you throw yourself away like this. For what? A little write up for the interior?” He sucked in breath through his teeth. “I won’t let you.”

His hands were tightening into balls at his sides, for a moment Erwin thought he might try to knock him out right now, to miss the expedition entirely.

“Levi. I appreciate your concern. But the facts remain. I am replaceable.” He swallowed. “If I am to die tomorrow the chain of—”

“Replaceable...?”

Erwin was expecting a lash out. He expected Levi to break everything fragile in the room. To break his nose along with it. But the anger was long gone now. He just looked broken. As if that simple word had broken off a piece of him.

The commander straightened himself in his desk chair with a creak and remained firm in his positioning. This was for humanity. This was essential.

“Yes.” He turned his head down to the papers below again. This wasn’t how he wanted to say his goodbyes. But it was the only way. “Was that all, Levi?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t talk to me like this doesn’t matter! Like you don’t fucking matter!!” He yelled now. Anger pulsing from him in shivers as he slammed a fist on Erwin’s desk.

“Where does that leave me, huh? What the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“Your duty.”

Levi sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn’t find Erwin’s eyes, as he hid them from view. He blocked him out. Put a thick wall between them to make it easier.

Was that all?

Was there nothing else he would say to him?

There was just duty and orders holding them together?

After all of these years…

Levi felt his world collapse. He was unconsciously holding his breath tight in his lungs as his eyes traced Erwin’s form. There was nothing he could say or do to change his mind. This was set in stone.

—

The forest was quiet.

There wasn’t much to be said in the first place.

The faces of the sparse recruits held crippling fear as they passed through the overgrown trees. Surely, they knew what their situation was now. Not even the presence of their commander could soothe their anxieties.

It wasn’t long until the first set of footsteps was heard. Titans from the rear. Erwin shot the warning flare for them as soon as he noticed it, recognizing the sound immediately.

Just one. Slowly coming about the rear as some hardly trained soldiers screamed at it in horror. It was probably their first time ever seeing one. It would most likely be their last.

For just then, Erwin noticed something off about it. It was bending low as it walked, as if it were about to…

The titan started leaping and sprinting sporadically, heading full speed into the back row of the soldiers. It grabbed them left and right, tearing through them in seconds.

An abnormal… Perfect…

The back row was demolished in a wave of blood and terror as other young soldiers seemed stunned with paralyzing fear. They watched their comrades die out in a blink of an eye. In moments, there were hardly any recruits remaining. They would have to outrun it, there was no use fighting if he’d have to manage on his own. Erwin knew this. These few untrained soldiers were no match for an abnormal.

“Scatter!” Erwin choked out a demand as another recruit was smashed into the ground beside him and scraped up to be eaten whole.

There were flashes of bodies flying from his peripheral vision. Screams of horror and pain that years of service allowed Erwin to block out. He kept his eyes trained forward as trees passed him by. His horse was fast but he could still hear the heavy footsteps gaining on him.

“Switch to ODM gear now!!” Erwin doubted if anyone was left to hear him anymore, the screams were dying out. His wires spread out in front of him and propelled him forward, through the mass of trees.

Everyone in his section was dying in an instant.

They never stood a chance. Maybe he knew this from the beginning. But the middle would be safe. The rest of them would be safe now. Levi would be…

His duty was done.

A hand slashed out to his side, barely missing him as he maneuvered around it. It was too fast. The titan would surely catch him any minute.

Another humongous hand was reaching for him as his gas got low from pushing it so hard. He was hardly hovering over the grassy ground. It wouldn’t be long now…

“Idiot!! Watch your left!”

A swift hand shoved him out of the way at the very last moment, just before a large fleshy fist could make a deadly impact.

He felt his breath flee his lungs in a hurry as he collided with the moss covered ground, tumbling on his back. He felt twigs and grass rough up his face as shock stole anyway any kind of conscious thought.

It was a fate more desirable to that of the person who’d saved him, he knew. The impact dizzied his vision, so he couldn’t see what had happened to them. Erwin twisted on the ground, flailing his head around to see who had sent him flying. But he already knew. God, he knew that voice all too well.

His blue eyes were searching, frantic, in a haste to find him. To find Levi. Surely he’d survived. There was no movement, no sign of him anywhere.

The abnormal was racing back around. It looked confused, obviously having lost sight of its prey. Erwin used it’s confusion to his advantage and swung behind the trees, finding it’s neck and slashing a vengeful cut through it’s nape. He watched it fall as he perched himself high in the trees to have a better look around him.

No sign of titans. No survivors. Just steam rising in the trees.

That’s when he finally spotted him, amongst the dead soldiers on the forest floor.

Levi.

His body was curled up on his side in the leaves. Unmoving, unresponsive as Erwin began to cry his name.

No.

No, no no.

He swung down, knees catching grass and moss as he slid to his captain’s side. His hands hovered over him, trembling without end.

This can’t be happening. Not him. He wasn’t supposed to be here…

“Levi…?” His voice died in his throat as he turned the man over on his back and spotted red. Bright red dripping down his face steadily. It was coming from his hairline. Erwin brushed his hair back gently as his head hung low over the man. He kept his callus palm on his cheek.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. Everything in his vision went dark besides the bleeding form in front of him. Levi was all he could see. Maybe it had always been that way. The commander shut his eyes desperately as tears started to form.

“Hey asshole.” It was barely a slurred rasp but Erwin huffed a laugh.

He felt a wave of breath leave his lungs. He could finally breathe again. Levi was awake.

He was alive.

“I thought you were… Levi… Don’t ever do that again.” There was no anger in his tone. He could barely speak as he caressed his cheek slowly, savoring the warm there. Levi’s warmth.

“I could say the same t’you.” He looked annoyed, but only on the surface. He was glad to see that Erwin made it out as well and that his desperate move paid off.

“You're slurring your words. You’re probably concussed.” Erwin knitted his eyebrows together and watched Levi’s gaze turn a bit glazed.

“T’would explain why there’s two of you.” He huffed a breath as he closed his eyes again, tightly.

“No, stay awake Levi. Don’t fall asleep.” Erwin commanded him, immediately drawing the man’s eyes open again.

“Resting my eyes. M’head’s killing me.”

“Keep them open. Focus on my voice and stay awake.”

Levi mumbled something incoherent as he watched the cogs turn in Erwin’s mind. Something he’d always found entertaining to see. Erwin ignored him and started untying the cravat from around his neck.

“Oi… Wh’you doing?”

“I need to wrap your head with something.”

“No, you’ll get blood all’over it. S’disgusting.” He didn’t put up much of a fight as Erwin successfully pulled it off his neck.

“Levi, there already is blood all over it.”

Head wounds tend to bleed more heavily. After years of service, he’d seen his fair share to know this well. The steady stream from Levi’s hairline had already found his white cravat and sank red into its porcelain color. Levi’s face fell into a frown as he saw it.

“Oh.” Levi spoke lazily as he watched Erwin gently tying it around his head.

“Do you have any flares left?” He asked as he finished tying the wound tightly. Levi winced slightly in response.

He shook his head, then regretted it immediately as his vision continued to spin even when he stilled his gaze. “Probably lost’m when I fell.”

“That’s alright. Surely one of the horses is still alive.”

Erwin put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Desperate for any horse that might respond. If an abnormal had attacked them, that meant that others might be nearby. With little gas left and Levi’s current condition, they had to move quickly or they would die before sunset.

Thanking his sudden turn of luck for the day, Erwin noticed the familiar sound of hooves across the leaves of the forest. He gave the horse a grateful rub on its neck as it approached them. He turned to find Levi’s eyes closed again, he cursed.

“Hey.” He shook Levi’s shoulders softly, stirring him awake again. “What did I say about falling asleep? Keep your eyes open, Levi.”

“So bossy.” There was a nearly drunken look crossing the man’s face as Erwin gently lifted him off the ground. He groaned in pain at the sudden movement. Stars clouded his vision.

Erwin carried him up onto the saddle. The injured man tipped forward lazily as his dizziness threatened to engulf him for a moment. Erwin just barely caught him by the chest before he went tumbling right off the saddle.

“Stay awake, Levi.” He demanded again, his grip on his chest was firm and steady.

“Easy… you t’say.”

Erwin could barely make out his words as he spotted sweat building on the man’s forehead. Levi’s speech was getting worse by the minute which meant his wound was taking its toll. For a moment, he wondered if moving him by horse was even a wise idea.

They could wait for a rescue party. Survive in the trees for the time being. But would anyone actually come? If it were him, he wouldn’t waste the extra troops. With such little remaining as of late, they couldn’t afford it. Not even for the sake of the corps’ commander or Humanity’s Strongest.

“M’fine. Would y’get on already?” Levi demanded, sounding rather sour about his current position, halfway hanging off the horse.

Erwin apologized quickly and swung his legs up onto the horse, letting Levi lean his head on his back. He felt familiar slim arms wrap around his middle like a lifeline. Levi’s hold was warm and solid, giving him the reassurance to keep moving forward. He took the reins and shook the horse into motion.

—

The constant bobbing of the horse was making Levi even more dizzy than before, he felt nausea start to creep into his stomach. He would be damned if he got sick on top of everything else.

Instead, he concentrated on the steady thumps of Erwin’s heartbeat in his ear. His commander. His everything. He was safe and warm in his clutch once again. The blood seeping through his cravat and onto Erwin’s jacket was worth it. Just to feel his heartbeat and know he would make it through another day.

Erwin felt Levi’s arms go a bit slack. His nerves cried out in a wave of anxiety.

“Levi. Can you hear me?” He spoke loudly over the sound of the hooves hitting the ground in a haste.

“Yeah, yeah. Quit yelling… m’head is gonna explode.”

“Sorry.” He spoke more quietly this time, leaning back a bit towards his captain so he could still hear him. “Are you dizzy at all?”

“Course I am. M’not gonna fall off the damn horse if that’s wh’you’re asking.”

“Just keep holding tight and try to keep talking if you can, alright?”

“Fine.”

There was a beat of silence. Erwin couldn’t tell if he had fallen asleep or if he was simply thinking of something to say. He waited rather impatiently until he heard Levi’s raspy voice again.

“Erwin.”

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“D’you still have that scar?”

He knew exactly what he meant. They both had their fair share of scars, but one stood out. A thin cut along his right palm. From Levi’s blade, originally intended for his throat. All those years ago…

“I think so. Yes.”

“Lemme see.” Then Levi was gripping at the fabric on his right arm. He switched the reins to his left and brought the arm down so Levi could grasp his hand. He traced the scar with his fingertips ever so gently.

“I’m sorry.” It was quiet, but clear. As if Levi was trying especially hard to stop slurring his words together. This was something he really wanted Erwin to understand.

“Ever since then… Only wanted t’protect you… Not just because of… my duty… It’s more than that… I… Erwin…”

“Levi…”

He felt his chest tighten with the anticipation of the words he knew were coming next. Unspoken for years between them. A forbidden phrase, buried deep inside them both.

“I love you.”

Erwin felt Levi’s breath heavy on his back. The way he sank into him like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Always have.”

He felt the wind rush through his blonde hair as a smile appeared on his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled this wide. Of course only Levi could bring it out of him.

“I love you too.” He laughed. An honest laugh. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders as well. Years of action had proved these words over and over, but now, they were finally spoken aloud. “I love you, you absolute idiot.”

“We’re both fucking… idiots.” Levi laughed too. Something Erwin was sure he’d let no one else hear but him.

The sound of it made his heart flutter and tiny goosebumps form on his arms. He gripped his hand in his own, squeezing it softly.

Erwin suddenly spotted the formation up ahead on the horizon. They were close, they were going to spot them soon enough. Levi would be alright and they would continue their path of idiocy together for a good while longer.

“Almost there, love.” He squeezed the slender hand in his grip once again. A reassurance. A promise.

“When we get’back… you’re buying me a new cravat.” Levi breathed a soft sigh as he made his demand.

“Sounds like a deal.”

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hsbeloved · 4 years

Text

hi hi! this is my first ever post where i showcase my writing, so pls be nice!! i’ve never been very comfortable with sharing anything i write but wanted to give it a try with something simple and short. let me know what you think! ♥️

harry felt his pocket vibrate, which was only unusual because everyone he normally was in contact with was already surrounding him, out to dinner to celebrate his older sisters graduation from university.

with a slightly perplexed expression and a mouth full of chicken parm, he slowly took his phone out of his tight jeans and opened up the new notification.

*god i'm so wet rn. need u so bad baby. meet me in the bathroom in 5 minutes? pls*

harry's eyes, once filled with confusion, suddenly went wide with so much shock that he honest to god started choking on his food. the whole table turned to look at him with concern, minus the girl in front of him who just so happened to be his very gorgeous girlfriend who loved teasing him any chance she got. she of course was just silently twirling her spaghetti around her fork while staring at the plate in front of her with a slight smirk. it was barely noticeable to anyone unless they really looked.

harry though, was most definitely looking. he loved her mouth so much. it always felt so perfect wrapped around the tip of his hard dic-

"harry love, you alright? you need to chew your food a bit more before swallowing", his aunt spluttered out from his left, breaking his attention and thoughts away from the impossibly tempting girl who was now slowly sneaking away to what he assumed was the restroom.

he couldn't very well tell everyone what caused his sudden outburst. instead, he cleared his throat and decided to blurt a rushed out string of words he hoped made sense.

"yeah no - i - sorry. food went down a little too fast. erm- i'm gonna head to the bathroom really quick. wash my hands. be right back"

he pushed himself up out of his chair and away from the table a little too hastily, but he couldn't help it. that message really got him flustered. she was always texting him things like that in the most public places, and yet he still wasn't used to it. he didn't think he ever would be.

harry scurried away down the narrow corridor and around the corner from his family and friends, stopping right in front of the lone bathroom door. he was so glad the restaurant only had one gender-neutral toilet. how was he meant to sneak into the ladies restroom without being creepy?

pushing that thought away, he raised his knuckles to the wood, rapping out a few soft taps before the door quickly opened and he was being pulled inside and slammed against it as it closed and locked behind him.

before he could even catch his breath, his lips were being attacked by the same ones he was shamelessly staring at less than 5 minutes ago. he felt her tongue slide along the inside of his bottom lip, and immediately opened his own mouth to deepen the kiss.

he heard her let out a groan from deep in her throat right before he felt her small fingers fumble with the zipper on his jeans, breaking the kiss and lowering herself to her knees.

"wait wait hold on." he pulled her back up by her slender arms, causing a huff to escape out of her swollen pink lips.

"need to take care of you first. you know you're not allowed to touch me until you've come at least once, angel" he pushed out with hunger in his voice, moving a piece of her golden hair behind her ear. he was desperately hard and wanted nothing more than to push his dick into her hot wet mouth, but he had certain rules within his head that he always followed. her needs first, always. then his own.

he loved hearing her come undone. the noises she made were unearthly and it secretly made his chest swell with pride at being able to be the one to make her feel good. seeing her face twist in pleasure while her legs shook so hard she could barely move them after always made his own orgasm that much better.

her honey brown eyes stared longingly at his lips, before she brought her own to the side of his head where she licked a stripe up his tensed neck, muttering out a low moan and biting down gently on the shell of his ear. he shuddered slightly as he felt her hot breath fan across his now wet nape.

"just this once, let me make you feel good first. please baby, i know you want me on my knees. i can feel how hard you are." she whispered. her last sentence was emphasized by her taking her nimble fingers and lightly feathering them around the growing bulge in his now slightly open jeans, forcing a harsh breath to leave harry's lips before he could control it.

he was so close to letting her have her way. she knew just how to tease him until he was a spluttering mess in her hands. he wasn't going to make this easy for her, though. his mind thought back to the text she sent him that made him nearly topple over himself to get away from his family, couldn't help but suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at how flushed he surely looked to all of them.

"you think i'd let you get your way after what you pulled out there? uh-uh baby. don't think so." he gently takes her hands away from his groin and leads her slowly to the other side of the small washroom. he eyes the tiled counter where the sink lays and helps her up onto it. placing himself between her legs, he pulls on them until her ass is on the ledge.

running his slender fingers up her silky smooth thigh until they rest just below the hem of her short skirt, he stares into her eyes as he lowers his voice and leans into her ear to mutter out "m'gonna make you come so hard you won't be able to walk back out there without my help, baby".

he hears a small gasp escape her lips before he latches his own back onto them, immediately finding her tongue and sucking on it lightly. she kisses back hungrily, whimpering as he takes one of his large hands to grab a handful of her shirt and pull it up to expose her naked chest.

he pulls back and gives her a once over with dark eyes, before placing the bunched up fabric in front of her open mouth and grunting out a demanding "bite."

she nods slowly while lowering her teeth onto the shirt and closing her mouth around it. he squeezed her thigh in comfort before using his fingers to pull both her skirt and panties down her toned legs, throwing them somewhere behind him.

his breathing started to pick up when he lowered himself a bit to the ground, spreading her knees as he went. this was his favorite part. seeing and feeling how wet she got for him. for only him. he loved being able to bury his head between her thighs and lick at her until she was a panting mess, begging for him to go faster. for him to make her come all over his face.

he let's one of his fingers shift up to brush against where she's wet and open, and she jolts and bucks her hips upward. he uses one hand to hold her down and the other to swipe at her entrance again, barely giving her any pressure.

she hisses around the fabric in her mouth when he reaches up to slightly circle his thumb against her clit. "you're so fucking wet for me baby. god, you're perfect" he bites out before he's suddenly got his head between her thighs, burying his tongue into her as far as it will go.

he fucks her with his tongue, circling her tight hole in an agonizingly slow manner which makes her let out beautifully needy sounds. he loves getting her worked up before he really gives it his all.

feeling her walls clench around him, he stretches and curls his tongue a little more before looking up with his mouth still on her to see her glazed expression. he witnesses her throw her head back against the glass of the mirror before panting out a mumbled "h g'd fck" around the obstruction in her mouth.

he loudly hums against her, making her sob out a breathy moan from the vibration it caused. one of her hands moves into his curls, pushing them out of his face as she grips them and pulls harshly when he moves his tongue to suck on her clit.

relishing in the noises she's making above him, he pushes a finger into her while circling his tongue around her nerves. she screams out and pinches her eyes shut, biting down hard on the material between her teeth.

she's so fucking wet. he's licking at her in long slow laps. fucking into her with his finger. but it's not enough. he wants to hear her release. wants to see her explode with pleasure.

when harry removes his mouth and replaces it with two of his fingers to curl up into her, she lets out a broken cry. he doesn't give her time to do anything else before he's got his tongue on her clit again, closing his mouth around it and sucking hard.

the sudden pressure startles her into opening her mouth, the shirt falling down and onto her clenching stomach. she twists her fingers harder into his hair, letting out an intense whimper.

"harry i - ohmygod harry please"

he wasn't sure what she was asking for but his fingers start to work faster to reach that sweet spot inside of her. his tongue moving in steady stokes against her throbbing clit. he lets the hand still holding her thigh above him move down to palm at his aching dick through his jeans. seeing her so close to her climax was making him harder than before, if that were even possible.

she uses this new freedom to arch her back, letting out keening noises as the skin on her neck and face start to turn a beautiful pink, a faint sheen of sweat forming around her hairline.

he curls his fingers into her relentlessly. not letting up. he quickly lifts his head for a moment to mutter out against her skin.

"let go baby. come for me" he moves his head back down, flicking his tongue harder against her nerves. he swipes against her one, two, three times before she yells.

"m'coming - harry i'm-"

her pussy tightens around his fingers curled up into her, until her whole body stills and she's crying out his name.

he eases her down through her high, slowing down his fingers still inside her until he eventually pulls them out and places a gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh.

he stands back up and places his wet fingers into her open mouth, demanding her to suck. her tongue easily glides over them while her lust filled eyes find his own. she looks absolutely wrecked. and so so beautiful. seeing his fingers move around her panting mouth makes him twitch in his pants, needing to replace them with his aching dick immediately.

he moves his fingers from her mouth to grab her by the waist and gently helps her down off of the counter, kissing her as soon as her feet touch the ground. she trembles a bit, gripping onto his shirt to steady herself as she moves her mouth with his own.

"good?" he asks between kisses, slightly out of breath.

she attacks his mouth in reply, nipping at his lower lip. "so good".

she gives him a few more needy kisses before lowering her hands to the band of his jeans and pulling them down his legs along with his boxers. he doesn't stop her this time, he knows he isn't going to last long and needs to be inside her warm mouth.

as soon as his hard dick is free from the confines of his clothes, he lets out a relieved groan. she doesn't give him any time to adjust to the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed skin before she takes a hand that's suddenly wet with her own spit and curls it around him, twisting, while her other gently rolls his balls between her fingers.

"jesus chris-" he hisses before he feels her take the hand on his balls and use her thumb to swipe over his leaking tip, making him groan and buck his hips into her palm.

she pumps him a few more times before getting to her knees and immediately taking half of his length into her wet mouth while she stares up at him with her big brown eyes, causing his own to shut while he lets a moan echo out into the open air. she's going to be the death of him. he's sure of it.

she flattens out her tongue and runs it up the side of his shaft, stopping at his tip to suck it into her mouth. she wraps her lips around it before slowly lowering herself down his length, making deliciously obscene noises like it's her favorite taste in the world.

she slurps messily as she let's him slide all the way to the back of her throat, carefully swallowing around him and making his hips shift until she's gagging slightly and pulling back a little.

"feels so good baby. gonna come so fast from that perfect mouth" she groans around him, acknowledging his praise. he tangles his hands into the hair at the back of her head as she takes him as far as she can, feeling her swallow around him again.

he curses, trying so hard not to move his hips too harshly and cause her to gag again. she feels so good wrapped around him like this. it's incredible.

she bobs her head up and down a few times before pulling off with a pop. she takes one of her hands and starts to curl it around him, twirling her skillful fingers in a way that makes him throw his head back and let out a needy moan.

"m'not gonna last. fuck". edging closer and closer to his peak, he starts to push up into her hand.

she takes the hint and places his length into her mouth, opening it as wide as she can while she pumps him onto her flattened tongue.

he grips her hair hard before twitching and emptying himself into her warm mouth with a few deep grunts, shifting his hips as euphoria takes over his senses.

she swallows thickly before licking the head of his dick until he's completely clean, then stands up to face him.

she gives him a few quick pecks on the lips before stepping away to look around for her discarded clothes. harry takes a second to breathe in a deep lungful of thick air before reaching down to pull up his own pants. zipping them and turning to see if she had found her things yet.

when his eyes found her, she had just stepped into her skirt and was shimmying it up her thighs. he walked over to her as she was finishing up, gripping her hips and pulling her to his side.

"such a good girl for me. always. love you so much, angel" he breathed into the top of her head before giving her forehead a small kiss. "next time though, maybe wait until i'm not around my entire family to let me know how much you really need me, yeah?"

"what’s the fun in that?" she winks before removing herself from his side and stepping to the door, unlocking it and walking out without even a glance back at him.

yeah. she's definitely gonna be the death of him.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #hs #harry smut #fanfic #harry #styles #hs fic #writing

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Out of Time [6]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 6761

Warnings: This part contains smut, Steve is a virgin for obvious reasons, Explicit themes (18+)

The next morning, you meet up with Dr. Erskine first thing to go over the plan for the day, along with Colonel Phillips. The Colonel then calls for a vehicle escort to take you all to where Agent Carter is getting the recruits initiated. The vehicle pulls up just in time for you to see her fist flying into one of the recruit’s face.

You scoff out a laugh, wondering what exactly that guy did to piss her off.

“Agent Carter, I can see that you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good,” Colonel Phillips announces as he approaches the group. He then proceeds to order the soldier the get himself back up.

You stand next to Dr. Erskine and sweep your eyes over the group. You catch Steve’s gaze for a brief moment before he looks straight ahead at attention. You have to glance down at your clipboard to help fight off your smile.

The Colonel begins to pace in front of the recruits and gives his introductory speech. “We are going to win this war because we have the best… men,” he falters when he pauses and glances over at Steve. He turns to shoot Dr. Erskine with a look. The Doctor has to look away to keep his face neutral. “And because they are going to get better,” the Colonel resumes his pacing. “Much better.”

He continues to explain to the men what exactly they have signed up for. An opportunity to become the man that will lead the Allied forces into winning the war. A man who will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers. A man who will personally bring Adolph Hitler to the gates of Hell.

“We will be testing you in just about every aspect you can think of. Strength, endurance, agility, cognition, aptitude... By the end of this week, we will know you better than you know yourselves. You are on the clock from now until we’ve made our decision next Monday. You will follow every single order, explicitly as it is given to you. We tell you to jump, just do it, don’t bother asking how high. We will tell you when to eat. We will tell you when to sleep. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” all of the recruits shout simultaneously.

“Sergeant Duffy, you can take it from here,” the Colonel relinquishes control of the recruits to the Drill Sergeant.

“Alright, men! Step into formation!” He orders. “First up is the ropes course! Ready! March!”

You follow after the group, along with Agent Carter. You take notes on the performance and times of each recruit as they complete the course. You bite your lips and cringe inwardly when Steve barely makes it halfway up the rope wall before losing steam. It breaks your heart to have to check the incomplete box next to his name on the paperwork, but you know if you don’t accurately report what’s happening, it will raise several questions with the others.

This is just the beginning of a very long and challenging week. Every day the men are up before dawn, they have 30 minutes to eat breakfast, then they’re jumping right into the next test. Steve’s differences from the others quickly paint a target on his back. One of the recruits, Hodge, the one that Peggy punched on the first day, seems to have a vendetta against him.

You witness Hodge kicking out one of the posts of the barbed wire crawling course, forcing the wires to collapse directly on top of Steve, pinning him down. Sergeant Duffy was quick to put Steve to blame, but you happily wrote a mark against Hodge on his form. You’d definitely be reporting this back to Erskine.

Steve struggles for a few minutes but is eventually able to work himself loose and crawls out of the remainder of the course. You frown when you notice the back of his uniform is cut in several spots. You’re pretty sure you even saw a flash of red.

Later on, the men are given an hour for lunch. As the rest of the group heads for the mess hall, you watch Steve diverge off to the barracks. You rush to your room to grab your first aid kit. You step back out of the officer quarters at the same time he’s leaving the barracks, dressed in a different uniform. You release a quick whistle to catch his attention before jerking your head to the side to indicate he should follow you.

He looks around to make sure no one else has witnessed the interaction before walking over. You take him around the back of the building before ducking behind a series of large crates. “Vic, what are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” Steve whispers.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” you instruct, kneeling on the ground to open your first aid kit.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine,” he huffs stubbornly.

You fix him with a pointed look. “Steve, the sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we’ll be done, and then the less likely we’ll be caught.”

He stares back for a moment before giving in with a dejected sigh. He looks around once more before ducking behind the creates, too. He starts unbuttoning his uniform and turns around to sit cross-legged with his back toward you. Once the shirt is off, you hiss at the sight of the cuts on his back. Most aren’t too bad, but there’s one going across his right shoulder blade that’s deeper than the rest.

“You and I have very different meanings for the term fine,” you scoff.

“It’s really not that bad. Just hurts when I, you know, move…”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head at him. There’s that stubborn jerk you know and love. Leaning forward, you press your lips to the back of his neck. He turns his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

You smile, “A distraction from the pain.”

He releases a low hum before turning his head back. You disinfect your hands before reaching out to inspect the deeper cut. You prod gently at the skin around the cut. Luckily, it’s not quite as deep as you originally feared and it won’t need stitches.

“This is going to sting,” you warn as you rip open a disinfectant wipe packet. You dab as gently as you can to the cut, but Steve still releases a harsh breath.

“Think I could maybe use another distraction,” he comments, his voice tight.

You oblige with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve cleaned up the cut, you pull out your healing spray from Shuri. “This will feel a little cold at first, but then it will start to numb the pain,” you explain before spraying over the wound. You tape a piece of gauze over the cut to keep it protected before moving onto the smaller cuts.

As the gel begins to take effect, the tension in Steve’s shoulders begins to ease. Your concentration breaks when he releases a long sigh. “Vic, what the hell am I doing here?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“You earned your spot, Steve. Same as the rest of them.”

He scoffs dryly. “But I’m nothing like the rest of them.”

“That’s a good thing!” you insist. “Steve, you know that this isn’t just about who’s tallest, fastest, or strongest. Your strengths are up here,” you tap at his temple. “Find a way to use that to your advantage.”

“Can’t exactly think my way out of a push-up…” He sighs, looking off into the distance. “I’m just so tired.”

You’re not surprised. He’s pushing his body past its limits. “I know,” you scratch comfortingly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “But it’s just a few more days. I know that you can do this.”

The scratch of your nails on his scalp helps to relax him. “Thanks, Vic. It’s nice knowing there’s someone here that’s on my side.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze once again.

“I’m always on your side. Even when you’re being a stubborn jerk.” You smirk humorously.

He chuckles quietly and lets you finish bandaging him up. The rest of the cuts don’t need as much attention, just a quick spray of the healing gel before covering them with a few bandages, so the gel won’t rub off on his uniform.

“Okay, you’re done,” you tell him, so he can put his uniform shirt back on as you pack up your kit and collect the trash.

He slips the shirt over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned as he turns to face you, sitting on his knees. “Can I get one last distraction?”

When you lift your gaze to catch his, he taps a finger to his bottom lip, right where he’s giving you a goofy grin. You match the grin with one of your own before leaning forward on your hands and knees. You tilt your head and press your lips to his. As much as you want to give in to the kiss and spend the whole afternoon with him tucked behind these crates, you know it won’t be long before someone comes looking for the two of you. If you’re caught together it would immediately disqualify Steve from the program, so you keep things short.

Pulling back, you blink your eyes open. Steve’s face looks more relaxed than it has his entire time here. You smile at him encouragingly, “Go show ‘em what you’re made of, Rogers.”

Darting forward, he places one last peck against your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He finishes buttoning up his shirt and stands. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear before reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. You have him go first then wait a minute before stepping out from behind the crates and make your way back to your room to put away your first aid kit.

Dr. Erskine grabs you during breakfast the next morning to go over the progress on the recruits so far. While you’re in your meeting with him, the recruits are taken on their endurance run around the entire camp. It will take the full morning to complete the round trip. You can’t help but be worried about Steve, especially since you’re not there to watch out for him.

You step back outside to meet up with the recruits at the same time that they are returning from their run. You feel dread pooling deep in your gut when you see Steve sitting in the back of the escort vehicle. As you hurry your approach, you find that he doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks rather content. Maybe even a little smug.

The vehicle comes to a stop, along with the rest of the recruits. Sergeant Duffy dismisses them to lunch, a rather sour look on his face as he holds a bundled green cloth in his arms. Steve hops out of the back of the truck, confirming your thought that he’s not injured.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches.

“The Sergeant said that if anyone could bring him the flag at the halfway point, they’d get a ride back the rest of the way. I pulled the pins out of the bottom of the flagpole. Once the pole was on the ground, getting the flag was easy.” He shrugs casually.

You and Dr. Erskine share a look, trying to conceal your smiles to not show favoritism in front of the others.

“That is one way to do it,” Dr. Erskine tells him before you both let him continue to the mess hall for lunch.

The two of you then meet up with Agent Carter to get her notes on the recruits after their run.

By the end of the week, Steve has found a few other areas to shine through. Every time you give Dr. Erskine your reports, you can tell that it’s only helping to affirm his feelings on picking Steve for Project Rebirth. You’re currently watching the recruits running through their afternoon exercises, with Agent Carter leading them through a round of push-ups. Your attention is momentarily pulled away from the group when Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips walk up, arguing over Erskine’s apparent choice to pick Steve.

“You don’t win wars with niceness, Doctor,” the Colonel huffs and digs through a weapons create in the back of one of the military trucks. He pulls something out of one of the creates that you can’t quite make out from your position. “You win wars with guts.” In the next second, he tosses the object into the group of recruits. “Grenade!” he shouts and your heart completely stops.

You’re about to dart into the fray as the recruits completely scatter, but then you notice one individual jumping directly onto the grenade. “Get away!” Steve screams, huddling over the explosive device. “Get back!”

Time seems to come to a complete stop as you think that this is the moment you’re going to watch him die. A full second passes, then another. As time seems to start moving once more at a normal pace, you realize that the grenade never went off. Everyone else seems to come to this conclusion at the same time and Steve begins to push himself out of his huddled position.

“It was a dummy grenade,” one of the other soldiers announce and everyone begins to collect themselves. “All clear.”

You find yourself releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Steve looks around in confusion. “Is this a test?” he asks.

You look over to Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips to find the two in a staring match. “He’s still skinny,” the Colonel mutters before walking around the doctor and heads off. Erskine watches his movements, trying to hold back a smile of amusement. Once the Colonel is out of sight, he gives that smile to Steve

It’s your last night at Camp Lehigh and you can’t even pretend to fall asleep. You should feel relief, knowing that Steve was successful in getting chosen for Project Rebirth. And a part of you is. But this means that tomorrow is your last day here in this time. Tomorrow is the whole reason you even ventured back into 1943. Tomorrow is your one shot at getting the serum. Tomorrow… you go home.

Unable to stand one more second laying still in your bed, you push yourself up and move the blankets off your legs. Peggy is fast asleep in her own cot, but she’s a light sleeper, so you try not to make too much noise as you slip out of bed. You grab your silk robe to throw over your nightgown once you’ve stepped out of the room. You twist the knob of the door as you carefully pull it shut, so it won’t click. You then walk barefoot out of the Officer Quarters and make your way over to the barracks. As you approach the main door, you pause when it opens on its own.

Dr. Erskine steps out, and he catches you standing there. He chuckles quietly, holding the door open for you. “Don’t keep him up too late.”

An embarrassed smile crosses your face. “I won’t, Doctor.” You slip inside before the door shuts behind you.

Steve is sitting on the side of his cot, with his back toward the door. He looks over his shoulder as you approach, quickly standing to his feet when he sees it’s you. “Vic!”

As soon as he’s within reach, your hands dart out to yank him close. You wrap your arms around his chest and bury your face into his neck, holding him tight. He stiffens at first, before relaxing into your hold.

“Is this my congratulations?” he asks with a gentle laugh.

“This is because you jumped on top of a grenade, like an idiot, and scared me half to death!” You squeeze him a little tighter. “I need to know that you’re okay,” you mumble against the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you feel the comfort of his nearness beginning to seep into you, you lean back and unwrap an arm to hold the side of his face. “This is your congratulations,” you say before placing your lips over his.

His arms tighten around your waist as he kisses back eagerly. “God, I missed having you so close,” he whispers against your lips.

Instead of his words causing you comfort, they hit you with a cold dose of reality. You pull back with a snap, your breath hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking at you with concern.

You feel the pain in your chest like a knife to your heart, and you’re sure it’s plain to see on your face. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you confess.

His eyes become cautious and guarded. “What is it?”

You release a shaky breath, feeling the tears already beginning to well in your eyes. “After the procedure tomorrow… I have to go away.”

“Go away?” he repeats, brows furrowing. “You’re getting reassigned?”

“I-” you start before cutting yourself off. You know you can’t tell him the full truth. He wouldn’t understand. “Yes,” you force out. “I’m getting reassigned.”

His gaze flickers between yours, trying to get a read on anything that you can give him. “Well, where to? Maybe I can get assigned there also.”

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you attempt to fight off your tears. “No, you can’t. It’s something I have to do alone.”

He looks like he still doesn’t understand. “So, what does that mean for us?”

You exhale sharply, looking up as a last-ditch effort to keep the tears from falling. “It means we won’t see each other again.”

“Ever?”

All of your efforts begin to fail when your gaze drops to his once more and you see the look on his face. He looks absolutely heartbroken. You feel that knife in your chest dig a little deeper. “Not for a long time.”

He watches as you begin to fall apart in his arms, but he just can’t accept it. Steve Rogers never gives up on anything. “No, we can find a way to make it work. I’ll talk with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips after the procedure. If it works, they’ll have to say yes, right? And even if they say no, we can still write letters to each other. This doesn’t have to be-”

“Steve,” you cut in. You can’t allow him to get his hopes us. “This is our last night.”

His breaths come in quick like he’s gearing up for a fight, but when he sees the raw pain in your eyes, he knows that now isn’t the time for arguing. Maybe he can change your mind before tomorrow. Maybe he can’t. If this truly is the end… “Then, let’s make the most of it.”

His hands cradle your cheeks before he pulls your face against his. He’s in complete control of this kiss and you are more than happy to submit to him. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you are reveling in it. His hands slip from your cheeks, down your neck, and over your shoulders. He pushes against your robe until it’s falling to the floor.

The two of you stumble over to his cot, not wanting to part, as your hands roam over each other’s bodies. Your hands slip beneath his white SSR t-shirt before they crawl up his stomach. He releases you just long enough to tuck his dog tags inside the shirt before he helps you pull it off. He sits in the middle of the mattress and you crawl to sit on his lap, your nightgown bunching up at your thighs.

You hover over him, hands on his shoulders as you barely skim your lips against his. He stretches his neck up as you tease, trying to get more from you. Your lips split into a grin before your tongue darts out to swipe straight up the middle of his mouth. His hands shake when they grip your hips.

“Have you done this before?” he asks breathlessly.

You stop your movements and pull back to meet his gaze. “I have,” you confirm. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oh, no,” he insists, squeezing your hips a little tighter. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t…” He drops his gaze for a moment.

Your lips spread into a sweet smile and you run your fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze back up. “That doesn’t bother me at all, Steve,” you assure him.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can tell he has more to say, so you wait patiently for him. “Bucky once told me that sometimes women don’t feel pleasure if you don’t do it right.” He pauses, looking at you with concern. “Will you teach me?”

You look at him with so much tender affection, he can feel it in his soul. “Of course.” You settle yourself a little more comfortably over his lap, with your knees framing his hips. “Just start by touching me.”

He glances down at where his hands rest at your hips, then his eyes travel back up the length of your body. “Where?” he questions.

“Everywhere.” Leaning back down, you capture his lips and kiss him fiercely.

His hands seem to take on a life of their own. They trail up your sides, exploring your curves so delicately, one would think you were made a glass. They skim just past the edge of your breasts, not quite brave enough to venture there quite yet. He traces the dip of your collar bone and the bend of your shoulders. As you continue to mold your mouth to his, he uses the touch of his fingers to paint the image of your body in his mind.

His hands then skim down your back, fingers spread wide so as not to miss a single inch. They come to a stop just below the curve of your lower back. Pulling out of your kiss, you breathe heavily as you catch his hooded gaze. Releasing his shoulders, you reach back and grip each of his wrists. Continuing to hold his gaze, you push his hands down even further until they are well and truly settled over the globes of your ass.

Steve’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate completely. He may not realize it yet, but you know your man has a thing for your ass. You grin deviously when you feel his hands squeeze. You rock your hips encouragingly, rubbing up on the erection that’s begun forming in his pants. He grunts in surprise at the sensations running through him and he squeezes your ass again. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so hard.

Wanting to touch even more of you, Steve’s hands glide down your thighs and slip under the hem of your satin nightgown. He moves at a pace slower than a snail as he moves back up your legs. His fingertips brush the curve of your ass once more, and when he expects to feel cloth again, he finds nothing but skin. His lips part in shock. “You’re not wearing underwear…” he realizes.

You can’t help the short giggle that slips out. “No, I’m not,” you confirm.

He swallows thickly, trying to process that information. “Do you do that a lot?” he questions, wondering how many nights you’ve shared a bed together like this.

“Sometimes,” you respond cryptically.

He releases a shaky breath, “Oh God, I’m going to hell for this.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well, then we can go together.”

“Can…” his mouth has gone dry and his voice cracks. He has to clear his throat to try again. “Can I see you?”

“You can if you take off my nightgown,” you grin cheekily.

He fumbles a little, getting the satin material up to your waist. You help him remove the gown and let it fall to the floor. And suddenly Steve has a very naked woman sitting over him. After a quick glance over you, he quickly realizes that he could spend hours looking over your body and would never grow bored. He could explore you as he would an art museum. Looking for every single minuscule little detail within the great masterpiece. Lose himself in the curve of your hip, or the swell of your breasts, or between your thighs.

You notice where his gaze drops to and recognize the curious interest in his eyes. You take one of his hands back in yours and slowly bring it to the junction of your thighs. His fingers slide over your folds and he inhales sharply.

“You’re wet…” he surmises.

“I am,” you confirm with a laugh.

His fingers do a little exploring over the area. “Are women always wet like this?”

“No, not like this. It’s mostly just during arousal. It helps to act as a natural lubricant,” you attempt to explain while he’s got his hands on you.

“Where do I… go in?” he questions, his face flushing. He feels like he’s failing in class. Isn’t there some sort of primal instinct that’s supposed to kick in or something?

You smile in understanding and guide him to where he needs to be. “Just press gently,” you encourage. He does as you’ve instructed and slowly, his finger pushes in. Your lips part and you release the sweetest little mewl as your body welcomes him. “Add a second finger,” you urge, more than ready for the satisfying stretch your body has been craving from the moment of arousal.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone this long without sex. Especially since you’d been on that recon mission with the team for several weeks even before coming to 1943. Your body was begging for a little action. You have a brief flicker of thought on whether or not this is technically considered cheating, but then Steve flicks his fingers experimentally, hitting your g-spot, and all other thought promptly falls straight out of your head.

“Oh, right there! Steve, touch me right there!”

Steve doesn’t know if he should be watching what he’s doing with his hand or if he can just stare at your face. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Neck stretched, lips parted, eyes closed. You’re a picture of pure bliss. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers as your body tries to chase after its first orgasm. Reaching down for his hand once more, you position his thumb over your aching clit.

“Rub that in little circles.” You’re growing more and more breathless the longer he plays with you. The sounds coming out of you are so sweet, Steve can nearly taste the sugar in the air. You try not to be too loud, knowing there’s night patrol walking around the camp and you don’t want to call their attention. “Oh, Steve. That-” your voice drops with a sharp exhale. “That feels so good.”

Your hips stutter against his touch and your breasts heave with every breath. Steve is mesmerized by you. He’s not sure what drives him to do it, be it that instinct finally kicking in, or purely an insatiable need, but he leans forward and takes one of your breasts into his mouth. This must be the correct move because the sound that rips out of you shoots straight to his throbbing cock. Your hands dive into his hair, tugging and gripping at the strands, but also keeping him close and encouraging him.

Steve does his best to divide his attention, keeping his hand moving between your legs while he mouths at your breast. He tries to keep his teeth out of the equation, unsure if that will hurt you. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand reaches back down to grab at your ass once more. He uses that hand as leverage to keep you close and encourage the way you rock into his probing fingers.

“Oh yes! Right there, Steve! Don’t stop!”

He’s not entirely sure which area you’re referring to, so he keeps up with it all. He sucks even harder on your breast, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand between your legs is beginning to grow tired, but he doesn’t dare stop, and he continues to squeeze and push the globe of your ass.

Your voice continues to rise in pitch the closer you get to your peak. “Oh my God! Oh, Steve! Yes! Yes!” And suddenly, your body is tensing above him and your walls spasm around his fingers. Your climax hits you like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. You’re seeing all sorts of colors and swirls behind your closed eyelids. You hold onto him tight, afraid that if you let go, you’ll get whisked away.

He pulls away from your breast, not wanting to miss the sight of your euphoria, but he continues the movement of his hands. His fingers are pushed in deep, stroking at your quivering walls and thumbing at your clit. Your entire body shakes around him. Steve feels like he’s strung so tight that he may just join you with the barest hint of touch to his straining cock.

“Okay, okay,” you ease, gripping at his wrist as your body begins to come down from your high. He’s more than happy to keep going, but you’re going to go nuts from over-sensitivity if he keeps it up. “That was good,” you huff with a breathless laugh, guiding his hand to gently pull out from between your legs. “So good…” you drop your head unceremoniously to his shoulder, needing a second to collect yourself.

He feels your breath fan across his chest, sending tingles in its wake. “I didn’t kill you, right?” he asks jokingly.

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your head back up. “No. You were perfect.” Cupping his face in your hands, you slant your lips over his in a sloppy kiss and start to lean forward until Steve falls back against his pillow. Your mouth drags away from his, over the side of his jaw and down his neck.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asks as your lips ghost down the center of his chest.

You place a kiss just above his belly button before grinning up at him devilishly. “Now I’m going to do you.” Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, popping the top button and dragging down the zipper. In one move, you pull his pants and boxers off his legs, allowing them to join the remainder of your clothes on the floor. Steve’s cock is hard and ready for you, laying against his abdomen. He’s not as thick as you’re used to, but he’s definitely got more length than you were expecting. He’s also got a bit of an upward curve right now that seems to have gone away after the girth built up.

Your gaze flickers up to see that he’s watching you intently for your reaction. You give him just the barest hint of a smirk before you lean down and drag your tongue over him from base to tip. His lips part in a shaky breath and he throws his head back. You swipe over the very end of his tip, getting a taste of the pre-cum that’s dribbling out of his head. You wrap your fingers around his base to hold him steady before you take him into your mouth.

“Good God!” he cries out, hips jerking up and his back arching. He grips the bedsheets, his knuckles immediately turning white as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never felt anything like this before and he knows that it’s way too much. “Vic, honey, you gotta stop,” he begs despite the way his body thrusts up into your hot mouth. “I won’t last,” he shakes his head fervently, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up.

Having mercy on him, you release him with a parting lick to the slit on his head. You keep your hand wrapped around him as you sit up on your knees and begin to get yourself into position above him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask for his consent one last time before it becomes too late.

His eyes blink back open and meet yours before he nods. “Yes, I want this,” he confirms. “I want you, Vic.”

You smile sincerely and move to line him up with your entrance. His tip has just barely brushed against your slick folds when he jolts and tightly grips your hip.

“Wait! Wait,” he rushes, making you pause. You’re about to move off of him, but his grip holds you steady. “I’m not wearing a condom,” he tells you in a hurry before you’ll think he’s backing out. “I don’t even have one…”

Your muscles relax as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay. I have birth control.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What is that?”

You realize too late that modern birth control hasn’t been invented yet. “Uhm… well, I have an IUD. It’s like a small device inside me that releases a certain type of hormone that prevents fertilization.”

“Oh,” he states simply, but wonders why he’s never heard of anything like that before. It certainly sounds handy. “And that’s effective?”

“Yes,” you smile in amusement. “So, can I…” you glance down to where you’re still holding him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Go ahead.” His cheeks flare with embarrassment.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “You’re so adorable.”

He winces slightly at that, his cheeks only getting hotter. “Not exactly the words most men want to hear when you’ve got your hands on his penis.”

You laugh again and stroke his length in a comforting gesture. “Well, you’re not most men.” You settle back over him and align his tip against your entrance. “You’re my man.” With that said, you begin to sink down onto him. Your body welcomes every single inch that fills you until he’s pushed in to the hilt.

“Oh wow…” he breathes, hands gripping your hips even tighter.

“You okay?” you ask a little breathlessly, your body thrumming with sexual energy.

“Yeah…” he responds brokenly, trying to hang onto his last shred of control. He’s never felt anything like this before, there aren’t even enough words to describe what he’s feeling. Good is an understatement. Great is way off the mark. Euphoric might be close, but it still seems to fall short.

You give him a second to get used to the feeling of being inside you. Your fingers glide up his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribcage. Sure, this body is smaller than you’re used to, but he’s definitely not as delicate as everyone has been made out to believe. This last week has certainly taught you that much. No matter what got thrown at him and no matter how hard he took a beating, Steve still managed to persevere. He picked himself back up and he kept moving forward. His inner strength somehow manages to shine brighter when he doesn’t have the muscles to back it up. Even though you’d been scared out of your mind when he jumped on that grenade, you’re also so incredibly proud of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, causing your gaze to lift back up to meet his.

“Like what?” you question, wondering what he’s reading off your expression.

“Like I’m the only man in the whole world that matters.”

The love that you feel for him in your heart swells like a balloon. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and brush your nose against his. “Because you are,” your words caress his lips moments before you capture them.

You start to move your hips in slow circles, taking great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you. His hands squeeze your hips before they fall back down to your ass. He uses his grip as leverage to start rocking up into you. His movements are a little sloppy, more of a reaction rather than a coordinated effort. It feels good either way and you have to pull your lips back to release the delighted gasp that’s desperate to escape.

Your hands reach up to grip the metal bar from the bed frame as you find a rhythm to grind down against Steve’s gentle thrusts. His parted lips are swollen and red from your kisses as they release stunted gasps and heady grunts from deep within his chest. His heart is pounding so fast, he thinks it might just burst, but if this is the last thing he ever gets to experience before he dies, it will be well worth it.

“Can I go faster?” you ask with a needy whimper.

Steve thinks he may pass out, but because he’s a sucker for pain, he nods his head fervently. Your grip on the bed frame tightens and the muscles in your thighs quiver as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh shit!” Steve’s eyes roll back as unimaginable pleasure sparks through him. Every time you slam down on his cock it sends a bolt of electricity licking up his spine. He brings his knees up and digs his heels into the mattress, so he can meet you thrust for thrust. Just about every muscle in his body is screaming in protest from this past week of hard training, but he pushes through the pain because the pleasure is way too good to stop now.

Your body pulls him in so deep, he feels like he’s going to fall into you. And maybe, he already has. These last two weeks he’s spent with you have felt like a dream. You dropped into his lap like a fallen angel and every moment since has been pure fantasy. You seem to embody everything he ever hoped he could get out of a partner. You saw him for the man he actually is, not the one you wished he could be. You treated his jagged and broken edges with gentle understanding and care, instead of choosing to throw him out with the trash like so many others had before.

You made him feel like a man capable of giving and receiving love and affection. You weren’t just a flickering candle in the dark. You were a bright, shining beacon, like a lighthouse in a storm. Your light chased away his insecurities and made him believe that he could do the impossible. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life basking in your radiance.

“Steve! Oh my- Oh!” Your back arches and your entire body quakes with the power of the orgasm that crashes through you.

The way you clamp around him has Steve seeing stars. Just a few more quick thrusts and he’s emptying himself into you. Your bodies quiver in tandem as your hold on the bed frame weakens before you collapse against his chest. You’re both sweaty and your skin sticks together, but neither of you seems to mind.

“That…” he starts, in between his heaving breaths. “Was pretty incredible.”

You release a tired giggle and attempt to move at least part of your weight off of him. There’s not much room to go anywhere on the tiny, single-person cot, though. His hands slide up from your ass, to curl around your waist, and he keeps you close. His cock, limp and satiated, slips out from your folds when you shift back, landing with a wet slap against his thigh. You can feel a dribble of his thick cum beginning to leak out from between your legs, but you are entirely too worn-out to do anything about it.

You’re already half asleep by the time Steve tries to coax you up enough to be able to peel back the blanket and sheets on the bed. You tuck your head under his chin and slide a knee between his legs, relishing in the feeling of getting to sleep in his arms one more time. Your sigh of content is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

Part 7

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