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cultofdixon · 9 months

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At least there’s no bears

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • Usually Daryl can see where the traps lay…but then you got caught • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl slowly sat up in his bed knowing he has the hunt today and that his partner will be joining him. Which meant he had to get ready and then drag their ass out of bed so they could get ready.

Once they both were ready, Y/N stretched their back out waiting for the archer who was currently informing the early bird Rick on their whereabouts for the morning.

“Hey, eat” Daryl startles them out of their thoughts as they tiredly take the protein bar handed to them and started to dig in while they walk to the gates.

It was a cold and nice morning for the two to go on foot for the entirety of the hunt. Even if Y/N does miss his bike to at least go a bit further out.

“You still waking up?”

“Meh.” They shrug adjusting the rifle on their back as they held onto the strap while looking around. “Why do we have to hunt early? Like. It’s what 5AM?”

“Have a watch to confirm that?” Daryl laughs a bit only to be hit with a pebble in the back of the head. As he quickly whips back, Y/N pretended like nothing happened only for him to playfully glare. “I’d be careful of any left behind traps. Don’t think there’s anything as serious as a bear trap but better to be aware”

“Why do people hunt bears? Some of them may be stupid, then others just want to steal your picnic baskets”

Daryl stopped once more only for Y/N to run right into him from not paying attention. He gave them a confused look.

“For someone who had a brother with only a few working brain cells. He didn’t watch cartoons? YOU didn’t watch cartoons?”

“Yogi bear”

“SEE YOU DID”

“Merle only watched cartoons or fights”

“Sounds very Merle coded” Y/N laughs a bit as they branched off a bit into a different direction to check out a bush with fruit on it.

The archer kept an eye on them for the most part, not like they would need the extra set of eyes since their first response in danger is to fight or find the closest hiding spot. They were also one of those adventure types from the old world and would almost always be outside so he knew that they knew about certain signs of danger and especially what’s poisonous or not.

“Those berries good?”

“Nah. But it could be good bait for small critters that can have it” Y/N plucked a handful as the two quickly turned to the sudden scurry that was too quick for a walker and Daryl went to follow.

When the tracks came up empty, Daryl was hit in the head again and turned to Y/N who had just caught up to him.

“What?”

“Did yea hit me with a berry?”

“No but thanks for the idea” Y/N laughs kneeling down to grab the acorn that fell, also grabbing the few acorn caps off the ground. “You ever wear these on your finger tips? As a kid?”

“And pretend your fingers were friends or some shit”

“That’s incredibly sad. If only I lived near the forest in Georgia then we would’ve been friends. Always find me in the trees”

“City kid?”

“Yeah but my sister always took me to the park to get outside and yknow, also not to hear bickering soon-to-be divorced parents” They laugh a bit as they took one of Daryl’s hands to put an acorn cap on one of his fingers before finding another bush in their peripheral to go investigate.

Daryl looks at the little acorn cap they put on his finger and thought it was cute of them, but before a smile could even grace his features. Fear shot right through him.

“son of a—-FUCK!” Y/N yells as their voice echoed through the forest followed by the thud of their body hitting the ground. They looked down to find the bear trap latched onto their left ankle. “Fuck fuck FUCK” they were too afraid to move and once Daryl finally came over.

The color in his face drained as he knelt down to assess what happened.

“You should’ve watched where you were going”

“Seriously?!” Y/N snaps at him for stating an annoying yet obvious response. Only for the sudden jerk to worsen the pain as they couldn’t look at their blood drain from their body or they might pass out. “Oh god”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ—-We gotta get this shit off yea without taking the foot”

“Oh”

“Oh?!” Daryl stops messing with it to lock eyes with Y/N a moment as neither exchanged a word. “What the fuck is happening right now?! Did I hurt yea further or—-“

“SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE CALM ONE”

“DEFINITELY DOESNT GOTTE BE YOU”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE THE WALKERS HEAR YOUR YELLING” Y/N snaps only for Daryl to cover their mouth waiting for the snap of twigs he heard to just be a critter and not what they had said a few seconds ago.

“I wish yea didn’t adapt your feelings to the situation when you’re the goddamn one that’s injured.”

“Freaking out to my full potential will only make me sob and the pain a whole lot worse” Y/N squeezed their eyes shut to fight back the tears as it was starting to get way worse. They carefully took their belt off even if it meant shifting, a wince, and Daryl flinching to the pain response. “Tourniquet”

“Smart. Very smart” Daryl takes the belt from them and got started applying such above their ankle before assessing what he should do next.

A lot of blood.

A lot of fucking blood.

It’s a 2hr window before they might lose it even with a tourniquet.

Y/N watches as Daryl thinks too loud in front of them. They were worrying about him even if they are the one bleeding less now. They clear their throat to get his attention as his expression instantly went to stress and worry thinking something worse was happening.

“Take the bear trap off, wrap the wound in your bandana, then carry me home so Denise can patch me up” their voice was shaky after silently crying a bit to themselves. Daryl did exactly what they said, a bit confused why they were so clear minded about it.

Next thing they knew, Daryl was carrying Y/N on his back all the way back to Alexandria.

“This shouldn’t have happened…”

“D, come on…”

“I knew this area had fuckin’ traps last time I was out. Should’ve taken them out before dragging you out here”

“You didn’t drag me out here” Y/N frowns. “And you would’ve gotten yourself caught in a bear trap. It just happens by accident”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“I wanted to. You asked and I said yes…even if you didn’t I would’ve come out to find you if you’re didn’t leave a note like you usually do” They rest their head on his shoulder trying not to let the blood loss beat them with the exhaustion. “Shits unpredictable sometimes…”

“You’re too optimistic sometimes” Daryl sighs, listening to them hum in agreement as he felt their body shift against him. Making his anxiety pick up the pace to get to Alexandria.

It’s been a few hours and Y/N woke up exhausted but at least patched up and in the infirmary. They noticed they were alone but at least there was crutches to help them get around.

As they managed to get up and out of the building, Daryl was starting to head back to them carrying something when he noticed them on the crutches.

“You’re supposed to stay in the fuckin’ bed”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Y/N scoffs. “I wanna be in my bed. With you. Thank you very much” they were about to move past him when Daryl took their crutches leaving them still in a flamingo pose. “Daryl. Don’t be a dick”

“Let me set shit down inside and I’m carrying yea to bed. And ain’t taking no for an answer”

“Then can you hurry up? You or Denise or whoever took my jacket and I’m cold” Y/N frowns waiting for Daryl, watching him go inside the house leaving them out there longer than they had wanted.

But Daryl came back out in a little bit of a sprint with one of his sweaters, helping them get it on before picking them up bridal style and going toward the house.

“You gonna be nurse back to health?”

“Ain’t leavin’ yea that’s for sure”

“You’re sweet”

“You’d fall down the stairs if I left yea alone”

“I think I’m gonna take back calling you sweet” Y/N laughs resting their head on his shoulder as he pushes every door he had to open with his foot. Eventually getting to their room and setting them on the bed.

The archer carefully propped up their ankle using his pillow and covered them with his blanket. Y/N got comfortable watching Daryl move around the room moving a few things but then he left to grab something.

When he came back a moment later, Y/N had fallen asleep given their body was still wiped out and the drugs Denise gave them still floated around. Daryl set the glass of water on their nightstand along with fresh bandages for when they wake up so he could put new ones on. In the mean time, he moved to his side of the bed taking his boots off before bringing his whole self beside them.

Y/N opened their eyes a sec to see him beside them as they carefully moved their self close enough to bring their head on his shoulder. Daryl rests his head on top of theirs taking the time to finally relax.

“At least there wasn’t any bears”

“Shut up and go to sleep”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Roleplay (NSFW)

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Miranda is SOOOOOO cute. ASLO THANK YOU @booitsrue for being a beta and for my lovely wifey @funky--lesbian for helping w the initial idea!!

Miranda had pulled you into her lap as you stalked about the room, getting dressed after your shower. Immediately you moved to straddle her lap and pressed your lips to hers. Her strong hands roamed up and down your back, pushing you to her. Knowing where this was going, you decided to suggest an idea that had been knocking around your brain for a few days, “Wanna roleplay?” You mumble against Miranda’s lips.

Miranda paused, pulling away slightly to nervously gaze up at you, “I- I don’t know how to roleplay... That sounds... I don’t think I would be good at it.”

She had been timid about trying new things in the bedroom, but with each new experience, she came to enjoy much of it. So far, she had come to appreciate using the strap on and shower sex the most. “Come on, Andy.. Just try it... For me?”

That was all you needed to say as Miranda was always willing to try something for you, “What do I do?”

“How about... I’m a criminal and... I always find a way to get away and you need to punish me.” You circle your hips on her lap, grinding down against her with hopes of enticing her into this idea. She was still clothed in her work uniform, making this idea even more perfect. Miranda was melting under your touch, her hands shifting to your hips and her eyes fluttering closed.

“I wouldn’t-” Miranda’s voice was a whisper.

Before she could argue about her professional integrity, you cut her off, hoping to put her mind at ease, “Andy, I know you wouldn’t in real life, but we’re just playing around.”

You could sense continued resistance, but you were certain once she got into it that she would be a pro. Miranda shook her head, immediately growing more nervous, “Okay...”

Your fingers move up to the collar of her shirt, popping it up and folding it back down once more, Grinding your hips against hers once more, you dip your lips down by her ear and seductively whisper, “Hello, constable.”

“We...we meet again. I, uhm, thought you were going to stay out of trouble this time.” Miranda squeezed your hips, pulling you down against her. She would do anything to make you feel good. Once the word ‘time’ left her lips, Miranda’s mouth was on your exposed collarbone, nibbling at your flesh. From the point in which you feel in bed together, Miranda has been intoxicated with the taste of you.

“Perhaps, I just can’t stay away from you.” You were trying to maintain your power over her, but when her lips latched onto your pulse point and began sucking, it was hard to function.

“Mhmm...” Miranda hummed against your neck, shifting to taste more of you.

Her hands slide up your sides so she could begin kneading your bare breasts, unable to resist any longer. Your eyes were locked on the ceiling fan, your breath growing more rapid as she began teasing your nipples. Between the sucking and pinching, you couldn’t help but moan, “You are irresistible, oouhh, constable. What can I say?”

Miranda liked the way you shifted and moaned, spurring her onward to be bolder with you, “Sounds like you need to be punished...”

“Are you offering?” You smirk, pulling back and gazing back at her. The tone of your voice changed, wanting her to know you were truly asking if she desired to take control in the bedroom. Not often did she do such a thing. She preferred to gently top you, checking in consistently to make sure you felt good.

“Can I really?” Miranda whispered, a smile spreading across her face. She bit her tongue as she waited expectantly, her hands falling back down to rest on your hips.

“What do you have in mind?” You prod, your hands starting to loosen the buttons of her work shirt.

Miranda’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “Handcuffs?”

----

“Are you going to be causing any more trouble for me?” Miranda growled, sinking the strap deep inside you until it reached the hilt. She had you handcuffed to the headboard, your face buried in your pillow and hips held high for her. Not often did Miranda seek dominance in the bedroom, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

“No, sir.” You whine, turning your head to take deep breaths. She pulled out slow, almost too slow. So slow your hips rocked back and forth, seeking to create more friction yourself.

Miranda saw the way you pulled against the restraints, desperate for more of her cock. She let out a low chuckle, “Hmm… Good girl.”

This was the same term of endearment you used for her when she was feeling particularly submissive. She had learned so much in your time together. You felt her lower herself, pressing her front against your back to place a kiss at the back of your neck. With a happy hum, Miranda lifted herself, finally beginning to increase her pace.

Her hands gripped your hips, digging in tight enough to leave bruises. Miranda would be terribly upset with herself if she knew whenever she fucked you, she always left your hips and thighs bruised to hell. This was a secret you were willing to keep as the tight grip her long fingers held as she pounded you was something you weren’t willing to give up. Miranda was pumping in and out with long swift strokes, causing you to gasp aloud whenever she filled you entirely.

Miranda fell into a steady pace, humming happily as you fell apart beneath her, “Is this the punishment you wanted?”

“More.” You begged, wondering if you could instigate Miranda to be rougher with you, “Please, harder, officer…”

Pride swelled in Miranda’s chest, loving how you referred to her by her professional title. In return, she gave you what you wanted, digging her fingers into your hips and giving it to you even harder. The way she pulled your hips back against yours caused the metal of the handcuffs to dig into your wrists. You whimpered from the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.

Miranda’s grip on your right hip relinquished so her arm could snake around your waist to play with your clit. Your legs trembled, keeping yourself upright was becoming a bit of a challenge. Desperately you wanted to draw out your orgasm, trying to focus on things that weren't her hand between your legs or strap sliding in and out of you. This focus resulted in your holding your breath for long stretches, but Miranda noticed how you tried staving off the orgasm.

“Make sure to breathe… I want to hear you…” Miranda hummed, settling into her dominant role. Her voice dropped an octave, growling every few strokes as you whined and cried out in pleasure.

The harder she fucked you, the closer you shifted towards the headboard. You gripped the bars of the headboard, trying to keep yourself in place, but Miranda was falling into a groove that kept you sifting upward. Your breathing grew more erratic, the impact of your incoming orgasm.

“Fuck, yes, honey…” Miranda whispered, she, herself, beginning to sound out of breath. If you could see her, you would have witnessed her messed hair as she bit her bottom lip. Her brow was furrowed, almost looking as if she was angry, or how she typically looked when deeply in focus.

“P-pl-please let me c-cum, sir…” Each word was a struggle as your breath caught in your throat. You really didn’t have to ask, but Miranda was definitely getting off on her short lived power trip, so you wanted her to get the most out of this.

“Anything you want, darling… Cum for me…” Miranda was disappointed you were handcuffed to the bed as she couldn’t pull you up against her to kiss you as you came. For this reason only, Miranda was making a mental note not to use bondage in a way that could interfere with her kissing you. She settled for bending over you to kiss your shoulder blade instead. Her left arm keeping herself propped up so her right could continue rubbing your clit as she rutted against you.

The orgasm built and built, and as you spilled over the edge, you turned your face into the pillow beneath you, muffling your scream. Miranda’s pacing slowed, her hand slipping away from your cunt to give the sensitive bud a break. When she finally pulled from you, Miranda reached her long frame over to the bedside table where the handcuff key sat. Miranda straddled your back, quickly unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them aside.

She laid beside you and turned your head to face her. Both of your hair was an absolute mess and wide grins spread on both of your faces. Miranda pulled one of your wrists to her face, pressing kisses to the reddened skin, sad eyes gazing back at you, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, just the opposite, darling…” You hum in return, wiping stray hairs from her face and closing your eyes. With a deep breath, you move to push yourself off the mattress, “Ready for your turn, honey?”

Her hand moved to your back, pushing you back down to the bed, “Maybe later. I’m off tomorrow.”

You don’t argue, knowing you could provide her with the morning head that she loved so much. Miranda pushed a kiss to your forehead and shifted from the bed. Through your eyelashes, you watch Miranda prepare for bed. You don’t shift under the covers until Miranda leans down by your ear to tell you that you couldn’t sleep on top of the comforter.

Minutes later, her naked form slipped into bed next to you. Miranda pressed her form against yours to press kisses all over your face before she settled in for the night. You fell asleep with a little smirk on your face, knowing breakfast would be Constable Hilmarson.

#gwendoline christie #gwen christie #miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson smut #smut #oneshot #fanfic #top of the lake

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miasmaghoul · 1 year

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I’m so zooted and feeling certain emotions i didnt even think i could possibly ascend to, i think around 60% are horny but atp my emotional-ness is a solid yes.

Now i have a prompt, just hear me out, a transmasc dew sandwiched between two ghouls, like Swiss ‘nd Aether??? I dunno man, i have thoughts i didnt know could be thunk

I cannot express to you how quickly I had a scene for this in my head, it was like getting hit by a flashbang.

One needy transmasc Dew sandwich, cumming right up!

Dewdrop is surrounded. He can't catch his breath, can't move, can't do anything but drool and whine and take what's given to him.

It's bliss.

He's knelt between the softness of Aether and the firmness of Swiss, their bodies engulfing his own. Seated fully on Aether's impossibly fat cock, the ghoul's strong hands firm around Dew's bony hips. Moving his slight form however he sees fit. Every push and pull makes Dew's brain leak out his ears; he can feel the way he's dripping slick, so hot and wet and so much. It must be everywhere, all over Aether and pooled on the sheets below. The image makes him shiver and he tips his head back onto Aether's shoulder.

"Please," he squeaks, reaching back to thread trembling fingers through Aether's hair, "Aeth, please, I need -"

Dew moans, high and feminine, when Aether catches him in a deep kiss, letting the other ghoul lick into his mouth. He tastes like the weed they'd shared, combined with something uniquely Aether that Dew can never quite place. He sucks air through his nose when Aether moves him in slow circles, feeling every bit of the way the other ghoul stretches him.

"Feelin' good, baby?" Dew pulls from the kiss with a groan as Swiss latches on to his throat, his cock pressed against the fire ghoul's twitching abdomen. "Sounds like it. Aeth got you all filled up like you deserve?"

Dew tries to nod, but he's pinned. His other hand worms it's way into Swiss's hair, hanging on for dear life as the multighoul starts moving down to mouth at his chest. Aether lifts him barely and inch before pulling him back down, and even that brief drag against his walls has Dew keening.

"More," Dew whimpers, pressing sloppy kisses to Aether's jaw. "Need...please." He has no idea what he's begging for, lost in the throb of Aether inside him and Swiss's mouth against his skin.

"You look so pretty like this," Swiss murmurs as though Dew hadn't even spoken, licking a stripe over a prominent collar bone. "All shaky and blushing. Doesn't he, Aeth?" Swiss kisses just above one of Dew's nipples and the little ghoul gasps, trying to hold Swiss's head to him, to get more.

"Always," Aether purrs, deep voice reverberating through Dew's chest. It makes him clench so hard they both gasp, makes his clit throb and his lashes wet. "Always so sweet for us. Aren't you, firefly?"

Dewdrop tells himself that he wants to cringe at the praise, wants to bitch and argue that he's not pretty or sweet. But it's a lie - when they have him like this, pinned and helpless, the center of attention, all he can do is preen.

"Yeah," he breathes, burying his face in Aether's neck. "For you, always good for you." He can't stop shaking. They've had him like this for so long, he can't take much more.

He never wants it to stop.

The other ghouls groan in unison, Swiss finally flicking his tongue over a nipple and Aether grinding up into him. It shoots sparks down his spine and Dew cries out, hyperaware of the kick of Aether inside him and the way Swiss leaks pre onto his thigh. He whimpers, grabbing at the ghouls overwhelming him.

"You wanna make Aeth cum, baby?" Swiss moves to bite gently at his nipple, a callused finger rubbing the other as Dewdrop chokes on his inhale. "Want him to get you all full?"

Dew wails as Aether lifts him suddenly, slamming him back down at an angle that has him seeing stars. He scrabbles at Swiss's shoulders, digging in blunt nails as Aether repeats twice more, Swiss's thumb coming to rest just above his aching, ignored clit. He's out of his mind, out of his body, and all he wants is them.

"Need it, need to, oh fuck," he feels hysterical, Aether holding him still again while Swiss grins up at him with crinkled eyes. He nuzzles into Aether's neck, voice small. "Please let me help you cum."

Aether sounds like he's been punched in the gut. They're moving immediately - Swiss shuffles back on his knees, stroking himself with a lazy hand as Aether wraps one arm around Dew's waist. The other snakes around his chest, holding him tight as Aether lays down on his back, Dew using him like a mattress. Every little move shifts the way Aether sits inside him, and Dew can't hold in the sad little sounds pouring from his lips.

"Shh, 's okay," Swiss soothes, Dew looking up at him with bleary eyes. "Just keep bein' good for us, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you."

Like he could hope to do anything else.

Swiss grips the backs of Dew's knees and raises his legs, the little ghoul letting out a soft yelp, off balance. Aether still has him held tight though, pouring praise and reassurance into his ear. The words swirl around Dew's fuzzy mind, eyes slipping shut as he lets himself be arranged and tries to remember how to breathe. Calm.

"There you go, that's it," Aether's voice is like a warm blanket, soothing the sharp ache in his chest, "almost ready, firefly, just relax for us."

He does, floating on Aether's voice and the feeling of large hands and strong arms. He's barely aware of the way Aether bends his knees, planting his feet on the bed and shifting his hips enough to drag an involuntary trill from the fire ghoul. He hardly registers Swiss gripping his own legs, holding them up and open while the multighoul moves to lay on his stomach.

"Such a good view from here," he says, thumbs rubbing slow circles into Dewdrop's thighs. "Gonna be able to see what a filthy mess you are."

Aether grips his hips as Swiss presses a wet kiss just above his clit, and Dew's whole body lights up in red-hot shame up as realization hits. His heavy head shoots from Aether's chest, panic etched on his features.

"Oh no, Swiss, you-"

Dew breaks off into a broken moan as Swiss runs his tongue through his slick folds, slow licks that trace every bit of the way he's stretched around Aether. He tries to slam his legs together, but Swiss's grip doesn't let him.

"Fuck, you taste so good gumdrop," Swiss breathes into the hollow of his hip, Dew chewing his lip and grabbing at his own hair. His skin is on fire, his muscles jelly, a wanton moan torn from deep in his chest as Swiss kisses his clit. "Can't wait to eat Aeth out of you."

Dew feels himself clamp down at that, feels his toes curl, Aether grunting beneath him. Aether rolls his hips, uses his legs to piston upwards and thrust in so deep Dew's eyes roll back, breath knocked from his lungs. Swiss's tongue is back on him, and the sensation is so wildly overwhelming that Dew wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't the only one crying. Aether presses the heel of his hand into Dew's lower belly, Swiss wraps his lips around his clit, and Dewdrop feels himself unraveling already.

The room is filled with sinful moans, cursing and the hypnotic sound of Dew being thoroughly owned. He's so far gone that he hopes he never comes back. He's being picked apart bit by bit, and soon there'll be nothing left. Reduced to flayed nerves and the chemical soup between his ears.

He can't wait.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #swiss ghoul #aether/dew/swiss #transmasc dewdrop

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Old Messes

Horacio Carrillo x GN!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.30 Note To Self, Don't Get Kidnapped- Manhandling & Hair-Pulling

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, smut, choking

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: The number of times I had to remind myself throughout this fic that I was writing a whump fic was unreal. 😂 I love stories where Carrillo ruins things for himself. Gotta be one of my favorite genres. Also, shout-out to @narcolini for nudging me in this direction today. I owe you my life. 😌

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @bport76 @marrianena @ashlingnarcos @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Your back slammed hard against the door, pushing it closed as Carrillo pushed you against it. It knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t even try to fight it, didn’t try to pry him off of you. You had hardly even gotten a word out when you opened the door before he was grabbing you, pulling you inside and immediately pinning you back against the door.

He locked his lips onto yours, messy, sloppy. His tongue pushed into your mouth, running over yours and you could take how it was coated in whiskey. The groan that came from the base of his throat made your knees weak for all of a second as you brought your hands up to roughly cup the sides of his face. Your nails raked through the stubble that had never been there before as he leaned farther into you, pressing his hips harder against yours. He brought his hands up to wrap around your wrists. For a moment you thought he was going to pull your hands away, pin them above your head, but he didn’t. He just held them.

You finally pushed him away to come up for air. He fought you on it for a second, but then he gave in, allowing you to push him back half a step. Your chest rose and fell drastically as you tried to put together what had just happened. You wanted to ask for an explanation, wanted to ask why he had shown up and made the entrance that he had, but the look in his eyes said it all. You didn’t know what went wrong, aside from the obvious things that were always going wrong, but it must’ve been enough to push him over the edge. There was no other reason that he would come knocking on your door.

There was a mixture of sadness and anger on his face. You were wondering which one of those emotions was more directed at you, and which one was more directed at whatever had tipped the iceberg before he came crashing back into your life again.

You finally got your mouth working in conjunction with your brain. “What—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, latching his lips back onto yours and flattening you against the door again.

You gave in for a moment, missing this part of him more than you realized. But then logic broke through the fog in your brain and you separated the two of you again. You could feel the tension in his muscles as you did, the frustration coursing through him begging to be let out.

“If you’re going to come barging into my house, into my life all over again, you can at least tell me why.” You were relieved that you sounded much more certain than you felt. The lingering taste of him on your lips made it hard to stand your ground and demand answers.

He shook his head, and for a moment you thought that he was going to reach past you for the door and leave. It wouldn’t be the first time he left you because you asked him questions that he didn’t want to give the answers to.

“It’s all a fucking mess,” his voice was low, quiet.

Your face turned pensive as you looked at him. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes as he spoke and that piqued your curiosity more than anything. He had always been bold, aggressive, unapologetic to the most infuriating extent. So to have him on the brink of combusting with anger just inside the doorway of your home, and yet he couldn’t look you in the eye for more than a second, that was interesting to you.

You raked your fingers back along your scalp as you tried to red-string it all together based off the five words he had said to you. “So you thought that this would make it all…less messy?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

It got a whisper of a laugh out of you. “Glad to see you know at least that much.”

He didn’t share your fleeting sense of amusement. “I can’t keep making new messes, new mistakes."

“Trying to find comfort in your old ones was the way to go?”

That got him to finally look you in the eye. He’d made a mess of things with you. He could admit it to himself even if he couldn’t admit it to you. But he hadn’t ever considered you a mistake. Whatever mistakes were there, were all him. He hoped that you knew that even though he hadn’t ever said it.

He shook his head, more at himself than at you. “I shouldn’t have come.”

He tried to reach past you for the doorknob but you stopped him before he could. Your fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm, just barely able to keep him from getting what he was grabbing for. The strength of your grip caught him off-guard even though it shouldn’t have.

“You’re already here,” you said after a few seconds that felt more like hours.

His voice was softer than it had been before. “I shouldn’t be.”

“I never said that,” you countered. “I never said you had to leave. I just, I didn’t expect you to show up at all.” You paused. Part of you wanted to remind him that, hey, you’re the one who took off before. It wasn’t the time, though. Maybe after whatever this was played out, you could say it. Maybe a reminder of the scarred over wounds would be enough to keep him from coming around again to tear them open, because lord knows you weren’t ever going to have it in you to turn him away.

“I can give you a break, Carrillo,” saying his last name felt foreign now but you didn’t think that you were ready for the familiarity of his first name just yet, “if that’s what you’re looking for. But that’s all I can give you.”

“Okay.” He said the one word like he had just finished running a marathon—breathless, desperate for some relief.

You nodded, a lump forming in the back of your throat that you willfully ignored. “Okay.”

He was on you again in an instant, desperate as ever, like a stray dog who had finally stumbled across a good meal. He slid his arms underneath yours, hands traveling up and down your back, pulling at your shirt. He leaned against you, and you were thankful that the door braced your back to keep you upright or you both would’ve went tumbling to the floor. His teeth grazed along your bottom lip as your hands rested on the sides of his neck. You could feel his pulse beneath the pads of your finger, fast and raging and desperate for something that he would never have the guts to ask for.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, fingers somehow managing to tangle themselves in the stiff fabric of his fatigues. Muscle memory never ceased to serve you well. Gripping his shirt tight in your fists, you pulled him closer to you, his chest pressed snug against yours, before pulling, turning so that his back was the one plastered against your front door. You heard it suck the breath out of him, his body tensing for a moment before giving into you, willing to give you whatever you wanted as long as you didn’t make him leave, didn’t make him go face the reality that he had created for himself outside the walls of your house. His respite was completely in your hands, and he was powerless to try and take it back from you. It crossed your mind for a moment that maybe if he had let himself be this vulnerable when he was with you, things would be different.

His hands fell to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you tight against him. Your hands found their way up into his hair. You threaded your fingers through it a few times, thoroughly messing it up before tangling them into it. Your grip tightened and you felt his breathing hitch in his throat for a moment as he kissed you. It was an instant shot of adrenaline for you, the knowledge that you could make him falter now in a way that you couldn’t before.

With his hair still wound between your fingers, you gripped hard and pulled his head back. His lips separated from yours as he let out a deep groan, his fingertips pushing hard enough into your hips to leave bruises behind when he was done. You could feel his body tighten, like he was thinking about trying to fight back against it. Relinquishing control for a moment sounded like a relief in theory but now that he was at your mercy he wasn’t so sure.

The second that your teeth sank into the skin of his neck, though, he lost any desire to try and tell you no. His eyes fluttered shut and you felt his body become putty in your hands as he let himself sink back against the door. You were still holding his head back, allowing yourself access to the full column of his neck. The pulsing rhythm that you had felt beneath your fingertips was now vibrating underneath your tongue. It was faster now, like he really was a bomb that was about to go off.

When you pulled away from him, he slid his arms completely around you, not tight enough to stop you if you really wanted to leave, but enough to let you know that he didn’t want you to go. It was the closest thing to a plea that you’d ever gotten out of him.

Your bedroom had never felt farther away. Deciding that it wasn’t worth the extra distance, or the stairs, you stepped back and peeled his arms from around your waist. A lost look crossed his features for a moment until you interlocked your hands with his. You pulled him towards your living room, towards the couch that you’d fallen asleep on more times than you could count as you waited for him to come home.

You pulled him along until you were pushing him down onto the cushions of the sofa. He could’ve easily pulled you down with him but he didn’t, instead he just looked up at you from where he sat, pupils blown wide and chest heaving as he waited for whatever was next. You could tell by the look on his face that this was exactly what he had shown up for. There was something to be said about him finally being in the position where the choices weren’t his to make.

Your lips found his as you lowered yourself down onto his lap. You kissed him hard as you got into a position where you could straddle him easily, comfortably. Your fingers raked through his hair again before you switched gears and started to piece apart his fatigues. The buttons gave way easily under the pressure of your nimble fingers. His hands pulled at your shirt, sloppily untucking it front your jeans before sliding his hands across the bare skin of your back.

He leaned forward, pushing himself off the back of the couch just long enough for you to yank his shirt down over his shoulders. He hurriedly pulled his arms through the sleeves and tossed it to the side. He was about to lean back again but you stopped him, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders to do so. Reaching down you, looped your fingers into the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it up and over his head with ease. You tossed it aside, not caring that you sent it flying in the opposite direction from his other shirt. If he cared, he didn’t say anything. Not that you gave him much of an opportunity to as your lips descended upon his again.

Your hands traveled desperately, greedily over the planes of muscle that made up his chest. His heart pounded beneath the palm of your hand as he tried to pull you down, closer to him, tighter. You gave in for a moment, finding a shred of relief in the friction.

But then you stopped giving in. You planted your hands on top of his shoulders, giving yourself enough of an advantage and control to fight against the way that he was trying to make you move. His breathing was ragged as he pulled his lips off of yours. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to fight you on it, but he wasn’t in the space to ruin something else. Not again. Not with you.

As you looked down at him, bruises littering his neck and his hair all a mess, the thought crossed your mind that he could’ve had this before if he had wanted it. If he had let it happen. Back then if he had just given himself one night to not be wound so fucking tightly, to not be so deeply entrenched in his constant need for control, things could’ve been different. For both of you.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he looked up at you. His muscles were tensed as he tried not to do something that would make you change your mind, make you decide that this wasn’t a good idea. Cautious was a good look on him. So was desperation, if you were being honest with yourself.

Even though he knew it was impossible, Carrillo swore he could feel you looking through him. Before you could see too much, he tried to pull you back in again for another kiss. You let him pull you close enough so that your lips were almost touching, but then you stopped. You felt the dramatic way his shoulders rose and fell as he sighed in desperation. When he tried to pull you close again, your nails sunk a little deeper into the muscles of his shoulders. The lack of control, the pushback was good for him. It was what he’d shown up for. And now he was about to regret it.

“Please.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that. That was new. That felt good to hear. You took one hand off of his shoulder, bringing it so that you were cupping his jaw. You tilted his head up, forcing him to look at you as your nails bit lightly at his cheeks.

“Please what?”

You could hear the stutter in his breathing as looked at you. He felt so small beneath you but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it more. He shook his head as much as he could in your grip. “I don’t know.”

“When you figure it out,” you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, “ask me.”

You pressed your lips against his, and you felt his body go slack beneath you. He melted between you and the back of your couch. His hands were still holding onto you for all he was worth, but it wasn’t with the same brand of dominance that he used to have. It certainly wasn’t with the same authority that you held onto his jaw.

He kissed you hungrily, allowing you to cover every part of him in you. The warmth that emanated off of you, seeping even through the fabric of your clothes, felt like it was about to scorch his skin but he didn’t care. He would’ve let you light him up in flames at that point.

You felt one of his hands stray to the button and zipper of your jeans. His fingers fumbled with it for a moment. He wasn’t able to get it before your hand quickly slid down, fingers curling around his throat. He froze. You froze. Neither of you saw this coming. Neither knew what happened now.

But you were too deep in it to bail. He looked shocked, but not displeased. It was probably your mind playing tricks but you could almost hear his heart trying to break through the confines of his chest.

“I said you could ask.”

His eyes widened. You weren’t sure what he was more surprised by, your hand around his throat or the dominance in your voice as you spoke to him. He gave a small nod, inhaling deeply through his nose against the grip of your hand. You waited with bated breath, high off the mere thought of him pleading for something. Asking for it. Begging for it. But you were met with silence. You tilted your head slightly, a silent way to repeat what you had said before. Go ahead, ask.

You saw the twitch in his jaw and you shook your head. Your grip tightened for a fraction of a moment before you let him go. You leaned back, palms resting lightly on his chest. Regret immediately filled his eyes. It wasn’t an unsalvageable situation, but you knew that he wouldn’t say it.

“You never were good at asking,” you said as you lightly dragged your nails along his skin. “You’re good at telling. Taking. Not asking.”

There was an argument, a protest on the tip of his tongue. You could see it in the way he dragged his teeth along the inside of his bottom lip. You waited a moment, giving him a chance to argue, or to give in. He did neither.

You shook your head at him. “Same old messes, Horacio.”

That stung. He watched as you swung your leg around, removing yourself from him. He brought his hand up, covering your hand that was still pressed against his chest for balance. His eyes raked slowly up your arm and over your shoulder until they reached your face. You could see it in his eyes that he was close to begging, but not quite close enough.

You slipped your hand out from underneath his, finding yourself standing in front of him. Even though he was sitting, his legs were still on either side of yours. your lips curled down into a frown as you stepped around him, going and swiping his t-shirt up off the floor. Walking back over, you held it out for him to take.

He hesitated for a moment but he took it from you. He pulled it on, standing up off the sofa once he had. There were a million things that he wanted to say and he couldn’t bring himself to spit any of them out. He watched as you grabbed his other shirt off your floor. He wanted to swat it out of your hands, pull you into another kiss, get everything back to where it had been before, but he didn’t. He could, but he wouldn’t. That would always be the problem between you, the thing that kept you apart.

He gripped the shirt tight in his hands as you passed it off to him, not even bothering to put it on. All of his frustration at himself was channeled into the vice grip he had on it. You noticed but you were kind enough not to say anything. What good would come of pouring salt into that wound?

“I hope it gets better,” you said honestly. He looked at you, confusion on his face. You chuckled softly as you shook your head. “Whatever happened, whatever broke you and sent you here. I hope it gets better.”

“I told you I shouldn’t have come.”

You smiled sadly and shook your head. “But we’re here.”

He hesitated, not quite sure what to say. “I’ll go.”

You shrugged, finally nodding. There wasn’t much else you could do. Carrillo was always going to do whatever it was that he wanted. You had tired yourself too much in the past trying to fight that. “Okay.”

He frowned at your easy acceptance of it. He missed the fight. Not the fight itself, but you wanting him there badly enough to fight for it at all. He’d made a mess of that too. After a long, tense stretch of silence, he said, “Okay.”

You shut and locked the door behind him as he left. Turning, you leaned back against it, letting your head drop heavily back against the wood. You shut your eyes tight, unable to reconcile how quickly you went from being pinned against it nearly hard enough to make it break, to slumping back against it in the hopes that it would keep you upright despite the weight of everything on your shoulders.

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix #narcos netflix fanfiction #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fanfiction #horacio carrillo x reader #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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penny00dreadful · 1 year

Text

First Impressions - Chapter 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 AO3

Something a little different this time. Here's just a little snippet from the middle of the chapter.

Beware of spoilers below.

“Stop checking me out.”

Okay. Yeah. Definitely still completely wasted, he could barely form his sentences, slurring words and fumbling his movements but who cared. Everything was shit fucked anyway so it was like whatever.

“No.”

Eddie squinted his eyes, trying to make sense out of the expression on Harrington’s face.

He couldn’t really focus and his eyes kept drifting like they had a mind of their own. He didn't exactly trust himself to speak, he had no filter when he was drunk and even less impulse control and once he got to this level he was barely able to follow the thread of a conversation.

Harrington shrugged. “What? You’re super hot, but you’ve got a shitty attitude. You seem dead set on hating me for some reason and you're a dickhead. So…”

Eddie scowled at him, feeling like there was something there he should probably latch onto.

“That’s not a very straight thing to say.”

Yeah, that was probably it.

“I’m not very straight.”

Oh.

Well…

Fuck.

“Since when?”

“Since always. That’s how it works, Munson. I didn’t wake up one day and decide ‘I’m gonna try out bisexuality today’.”

Well that would just be ridiculous.

“Duh.” Eddie snorted. It wasn’t funny, why was he finding it funny? But it was kinda funny. It almost sounded like he was giggling. What? “I know that.”

“You’re the one who asked the question.”

“Oh… shit. I did do that.”

“Yeah, you did. But I told you I worked at a club called Dorothy’s and you didn’t figure it out?”

Eddie pouted.

C’mon brain work.

Chug-chug, toot-toot.

Hurry up.

“Oh!” He tried to snap his fingers and failed miserably. “It’s a gay club.”

“Well done.”

“I got there eventually. Guess I didn’t want to ‘figure it out’.”

He probably wasn't supposed to say that, but who cares?

Not him.

“For what reason?”

Eddie attempted a shrug, blowing air out between his lips and waving his hands around nonsensically. “I don’t know, man. Something in my brain just wants to dislike you. Everyone keeps telling me I’m only seeing what I want to see and like I get it but I don’t? Everything up here,” he knocked his knuckles against his forehead a little harder than he meant to, “is kinda fucked anyway.”

“So is that why you’ve been having such a bad night? You’ve been shit talking me and no one is putting up with it?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t call it shit talking, I’d call it vicious slander.”

“Why?”

Eddie leaned forward attempting to spread a sly smile across his face.

“Wormtongue.” He fell back against the wall again, cackling at the bemused expression over Harrington’s pretty face. “It’s not all the reason it's been a bad night but it's part of the reason. When I get angry I can get poisonous. I spread it all around like a fucking miasma.” He said with wide eyes, wiggling his fingers.

He tried to pull his knees up to rest his arms on them, but again with the fucking pants.

He was able to pull his knees up eventually but it left him slumped on the wall, practically lying down in the bathroom stall. Harrington made no move to help, just watched him with a cocked eyebrow.

Oh well, it was nice to lie down.

Lying down was great.

And he didn’t have to look at Mr.Hair anymore.

He could just talk to the ceiling.

Eddie sighed heavily and rolled his head around, just enjoying the spinny movement.

“Oh, but you’re right, precious. I do have a shitty attitude. And maybe I do like to see you as an asshole on purpose. Makes things easier. Makes it easier not to think about you a certain way if I just pretend you’re still the same ass you were in school.”

“I mean I was an ass in school. I’m sorry for that, by the way. I’m sorry for what I did and what I didn’t do, the things I ignored and let happen-”

“Don’t- don't do that, man.” Eddie croaked, horrified to find his voice was starting to shake a little and his eyes were starting to burn. His mood was suddenly soured, remembering the last time he’d had a conversation like this, his heartbreak hitting him all over again but somehow stronger this time.

Fucking alcohol.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t fucking apologise for school. He couldn’t even say the words. He told me- he told me he did. He told me he’d said the words out loud and that I mustn’t be remembering right but I don’t think he ever did.”

Full chapter on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

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aurorablue22 · 3 years

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Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited.

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3

“Good morning my dear!” you said as you walked into the kitchen, where Harry was cracking an egg over the frying pan.

“Mornin’ (Y/N).” he smiled, and you walked over to him.

“Y’know Harry, you don’t have to make breakfast for us. Even after all this time I feel bad-”

“(Y/N), I’m fine, I promise. Besides, I already made you tea.” he nodded towards the counter, and you gave a pouty smile as you picked up the mug. “Sweet boy.” you cooed, and ruffled his hair.

You and your godson were enjoying whatever Harry had whipped up, and talking about the strange dream he had last night, when an owl tapped on the window. You took a swig from your tea mug and lifted the latch, letting the dusty creature inside. It gave a polite hoot, and you bowed your head in return.

You unfastened the letter from the owl’s foot while Harry filled a bowl with water and a plate with bacon scraps.

“Oh, it’s from Rem!” you hastily tore the envelope, and slipped the parchment through the folds. Sprawled across the yellowed paper was half-messy, half-loopy writing, which you’d grown quite familiar with.

“What’s he up to?” Harry asks nonchalantly.

Your eyes quickly moved from left to right, scanning over the message. Your brain hung onto specific words; Order, Phoenix, Army, The Dark Lord... and Padfoot.

You took a breath in as you read your husband’s name, and Harry peeked over your shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, my dear..” you shook your hand, handing him the message. “It’s just..”

Harry immediately understood. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? You do want to see him... right?”

You whipped around, your updo falling loose. “Of course I want to see him! I just... I just don’t know.. “ you sighed, and sat back at the kitchen table. Your brain floated back to what Remus had written; how the Order was reassembling, and he was extending the invite to you, just like he had in the 70s.

Not only that, but he had scribbled something along the lines of “Padfoot will be joining us as well. I do hope you’re willing to see him.”

Of course you did! But it was complicated to explain to others. You were nervous. The most communication you’d had with Sirius over the past two years was letters. Most of his were on scraps of newspaper, so you always made sure to pack extra parchment into your envelopes.

Within the past few weeks, his message arrived a lot cleaner and appeared less rushed, which you appreciated. Each time an owl arrived, your heart soared. But in those letters, you couldn’t reveal anything about your lives, in case they fell into the wrong hands. That being said, the most you two could say to each other was “I love you”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just after 7 o’clock, when Remus and a girl with purple hair had come to pick up you and Harry. She introduced herself as ‘Tonks”. Of course, you hadn’t realized at the time she was your cousin in law.

You both waved them off, Remus assuring them you’d catch up soon. You gave your Godson a kiss on the cheek.

“Be good,” you pointed your finger at him “Listen to Tonks”.

“I will, I will!” he teased.

When they’d both left, you and Remus sat on the tiny loveseat in comfortable silence.

“I wanted to check up on you,” he stated, and you looked up to reach his gaze. Oh, Remus. Your best friend. “I realize when I sent my letter it must’ve been a bit of a shock to you.” he placed his hand over yours.

“Oh yes, well, I think I might’ve frightened Harry more than anything. I’m not sure if he’s used to how dramatic I am yet.” you two laughed, Remus teasing you that it took him a long time to get used to it too.

Your laughter died down, and Remus spoke again. “He’s very excited to see you, (Y/N). In fact, he’s been fixing up his hair all day.”

You couldn’t even laugh. That was such a Sirius thing to do.

Your eyes glossed over at the thought, which Remus noticed immediately. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to see him Rem.” you cut him off, and you saw relief wash over his features. “I’m just a little nervous.”

It took a few minutes, but after a warm hug and Remus’s signature pep talks, you were ready to go. Never letting go of his hand, the two of you apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Always a gentleman, Remus opened the front door for you, and you were greeted by the distant chatter at the end of the hall. Although you couldn’t see any faces, you recognized the voice of your Godson and his friends, along with that of Mad-Eye and Mrs. Weasley, to be followed by-

him.

It was that glorious laugh you’d waited 14 years to hear, the sound bounced around your head and you began to feel faint. Remus patted your shoulder, and you turned your head to look at him.

He nodded towards the end of the corridor, smiling. You took a deep breath, staring down the long hallway ahead of you. You brushed the stray hair out of your face and clenched your fists. As you began walking, you could hear Remus following close behind.

Your footsteps were booming across the corridor, your pace picking up with every step. Your breathing heightened and your heart was in your throat. You pushed open the door in front of you, and it slammed against the wall. The sound alerted the entire room, and you scanned over everyone’s faces. You finally landed on those eyes, his eyes, still as grey and dreamy as you’d left them.

“(Y/N)!” he shouted, getting up from his seat, looking anything but composed.

“Sirius” you breathed, tears already forming. The two of you ran towards each other, and finally, after 14 long years, you found yourself in his embrace once more.

It was tight and strong, he held you protectively yet with extreme caution. You sobbed into his chest, knowing that there weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how you felt at the moment.

Much to your surprise, and those in the room, Sirius began to cry as well. Not as much as you, but tears fell from his eyes as though he was only a boy. You held onto him, not wanting to let go, your hands digging into his jacket, and your face buried in his chest.

The world fizzled out around you, and you didn’t even notice how people were reacting to the scene. Remus leaned against the doorframe, wiping away a few tears himself; he felt so grateful he could see his best friends together once more.

Although they would deny it later on, Harry and Hermione hid their emotions behind Ron, the both of them on the verge of an entire breakdown. This was followed by Mrs. Weasley, who was sniffing loudly as her husband passed her a handkerchief.

Sirius was the first to pull away, and he cupped your face with his hands. He had a certain look on his face, as though he’d fallen in love all over again. He wiped away your tears with his thumb, and looked into your eyes.

Your knees might’ve given out at that very moment if he wasn’t there to steady you. “Even more beautiful then when I left you.” he spoke, barely over a whisper, his voice sending those familiar tingles down your spine.

You couldn’t even form words, you were so lost in his features. You only smiled, which he returned. “Why don’t we go into the other room, hmm?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you out of the dining room. You could barely hear Ginny burst into loud sobs behind you, and how Mrs. Weasley followed suit.

He walked you down the hall, and you never took your eyes off each other, only breaking the gaze when he opened the door to the living room.

You two sat on the dusty couch in the dimly lit room, and he took your hands in his. You realized then and there how much you’d missed his loving gaze; at this point he was practically drooling at the sigh of you.

He wrapped his arms around you once more, his head resting atop yours. “I’ve missed you so much my love, so very much.”

You only gripped him harder, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and his old cologne. Your eyes pricked yet again; it was the cologne you used to spray on his pillow when he was first imprisoned.

“Sirius..” you said his name as though it were your only prayer. He hummed in response, lifting your face to meet his. You leaned in closer to him, your faces not even an inch apart. You closed the gap, your lips finally meeting his. You took in a breath through your nose, and butterflies began swarming in your stomach.

You parted your lips, which Sirius took as an invite, and his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your hands found their way into his hair, and his around your waist. You felt your cheeks getting wet, and you realized it was from Sirius. A few tears had spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t let up from the kiss.

It was full of passion and love, sprinkled with a bit of lust. He laid you gently on the couch, his body hovering over yours, and you finally broke apart. He gave a few gentle pecks down your neck, and returned to eye level with you.

“Oh darling..” you spoke, trying to contain the emotions that were sure to spill out of you. Both of you were at a loss for words, simply staring at each other, taking in everything you’d missed out on. You smiled lovingly at him, and the corners of his mustache quirked as he did the same. You giggled, fiddling with his locks.

“You grew a beard.” you stated, still admiring the sight before you.

“Do you not like it?” he asked, more so a rhetorical question than anything.

“I find it very sexy.” you reassured him.

He chuckled a bit, never taking his eyes off you. “Oh my dear,” he stroked the side of your face, and he brought you to sit back up. “I haven’t a clue how I managed without you.”

A certain emotion flashed over his eyes, and he fought off a grimace, trying to outrun the hell that lived within him. You placed a hand on his cheek, your wedding band giving a bit of a cold sting to his face.

He gently took your hand and brought it into view; his eyes crystallized once he saw the ring he’d given you so many years ago. “You kept it..” his tone was unsure, as though he was confused as to why you did.

“Of course I did Siri, I love you.” your heart ached for him; he must’ve thought you’d moved on before he’d seen Remus again. You remembered the conversation you had with Remus a few months ago, where he opened up about seeing Sirius again. They’d been writing every couple of months, and Remus had to constantly reassure him that you were still available; that you’d never given up on your husband.

“I’ll always love you.” you furrowed your brow in an attempt to conceal yet another sob.

“And I, you. My sweet girl.” Sirius placed a kiss on your knuckles, then moved back to your lips. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” he mumbled into the kiss, and you felt yourself melt in his embrace, knowing that you and your husband were finally reunited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I loved writing it! Let me know if I should follow up on this “Reunited” fic, because I’m really looking forward to adding more. That would include something romantic and/or something smutty, I’m honestly up for anything bahaha. Please send in your requests, whether it be for this fic or really anyone in Harry Potter. And don’t be afraid of giving feedback, I’d love to know what you think! <3

~Aurora

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chericarlisle · 3 years

Note

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment.

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school.

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students.

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day.

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination.

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time.

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend.

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens.

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door.

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions.

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor.

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours.

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you.

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt.

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would.

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?”

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.”

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done.

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.”

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out.

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful.

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand.

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.”

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in.

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!”

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.”

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare.

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment.

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.”

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you.

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh.

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

#carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight carlisle #carlisle cullen fanfiction #twilight #twilight fanfiction

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thatwriterchick222 · 3 years

Text

The Factory (Karl Heisenberg x f/reader)

You sneak into Heisenberg's factory to catch a glimpse of him, but he catches you in the act.

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD !!!!

*********

Your shaky hands reached out and pushed on the heavy metal doors, opening them as they creaked loudly. You peeked into the cold main room of the factory, scanning the area for any movement. You were only met with utter stillness as you stood there, the sounds of water dripping onto the hard concrete floor in the distance. You were starting to regret coming here, but you just needed to see him again. Even being in his factory made your blood boil with lust. The thought that he might just kill you had already circled around in your mind a few times, but at this point you didn’t care. It’s not like your life was very fun at the moment, living in the castle and tending to the three annoying daughters of Lady Dimitresque.

Turning your head, you spotted a large breaker switch to your left. You walked over to it, the sound of your footsteps echoing throughout the room. You pushed firmly on the switch, lifting it up. It made a loud noise as all the lights in the room flickered on. Before you could turn around, a voice came from behind you, making you jump.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Heisenberg’s voice boomed, a slight taunt to his voice. Your heart dropped and your eyes widened, all your confidence suddenly disappearing. How would you explain this? You slowly turned around, eyes focusing on the tall figure about half way across the room. He had his giant metal hammer slung across his shoulder, looking smug as always. Your mouth became dry as you tried to think of what to say.

“I, uh- I got lost.” You blurted out, so nervous your own voice sounded foreign to you. Your heart was beating so fast you were almost certain he could hear it from across the room. He chuckled and began to approach you, his steps long and slow. His boots hit the ground with a loud thud each time he took a step.

“Do you really think I would believe that, Y/N?” He teased, getting closer and closer. Your heart fluttered in surprise, you didn’t think he knew your name. You stayed silent and looked down at your feet, he might as well just kill you now. You heard his feet shuffle until he was directly in front of you, staring down at you. You began to look up, too afraid to make eye contact with him. You gasped as you felt his gloved fingers grip your chin hard, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes widened as he scanned your face, not one emotion shown on his face. Your eyes flicked down to his parted lips quickly, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“What do you really want?” His voice grumbled softly, and you almost melted at the feeling of his breath on your face. You stayed silent again, barely even able to breathe at this point.

“Answer me, dammit!” He yelled, abruptly wrapping his hand around your neck and backing you into a wall, forcing the air out of your lungs. You heard the loud clang of his hammer hitting the ground. He had thrown it to the side. The pressure his hand had on your neck was just enough for you to talk, but also restrain you at the same time. You could feel your stomach churn as the mix of fear and attraction flooded your brain. His face was inches from yours, his scent filling your mind with unclean thoughts.

“You.” You whispered, your throat becoming sore from being so dry. One of your hands was pressed flat against the wall behind you, the other gripping his large forearm. A slight smirk appeared on his lips, but you couldn’t see his eyes because of the dark shades covering them.

Suddenly, his grip on your neck loosened and he let go, backing away. You inhaled and rubbed your sore neck. Heisenberg telepathically lifted his hammer and brought it back into his hand, slinging it over his shoulder with ease.

“Come with me.” He spoke, turning around and walking off. You weren’t sure what he had planned, but you quickly walked after him and followed close behind.

After a lot of twists and turns, you both arrived at a small room with a table and chair, along with random factory supplies. As soon as you entered the room, he slammed the metal door shut with his mind, startling you. Still facing away from you, he placed his hammer gently on the floor.

“On your knees, kitten.” He said roughly, removing his sunglasses and placing them on the table. Your cheeks went red as you processed his words. With slight hesitation, you slowly got down and pressed both of your knees into the hard concrete floor, your skirt riding up. He turned around, his piercing blue eyes now revealed. You looked up at him and admired his face, eyes looking down at you with something different than before. You knew that look. He wanted you too. He approached you slowly, and you noticed the large bulge in his pants. He was already hard? You refrained from smiling.

“My belt.” He ordered, stepping closer. You felt the wetness in your underwear already forming. You reached up to unbuckle his belt, but he grabbed your wrist firmly.

“With your teeth.” He said, licking his lips. Your face went red and you looked back down at his belt, trying to figure out how to do it. You leaned in slowly and latched your teeth on to his belt, pulling it out of the loops and to the side. You felt his hand come down and run through your hair roughly, pulling it slightly. This felt like a dream. After a lot of concentration, you managed to pull his belt open, and you could swear your chin accidentally rubbed against his erect cock inside his pants. Realizing it was impossible to undo his button with your teeth, you reached up and quickly undid it, continuing on to his zipper. You bit down on the small metal zipper and yanked it down, his member poking through, now only restrained by his underwear. You thought you heard him grunt quietly, so you looked up at him. He was staring down at you, his expression determined. He was getting impatient.

With one last tug you pulled his boxers down, allowing his dick to fully be exposed to the cool air. He inhaled quietly as you admired it for a moment. Your heart dropped as you pondered if it would even fit inside you. That was future you’s problem, you thought to yourself.

“Just get on with it already.” He ordered, putting his hand up against the wall behind you to stabilize himself. His feet shuffled a tiny bit closer to you, the tip of his cock now inches away from your mouth. You swallowed, preparing yourself.

Continue reading here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31315076

#karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #Smut #karl heisenberg smut #karl heisenberg x reader

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be-gay-do-heists · 3 years

Note

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

#i will die before i stop loving characters talking w and affirming each other #thank u so much for all ur prompts!!! i def hope to get to a couple more of them when i next get some writing energy #i really hope this is somewhat what u were looking for #leverage #miko speaks #my fic #parker x hardison #gender dysphoria #ask #havent had the bad gender feelings in a while so hope this works

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patchofsunlight · 4 years

Text

Hands | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou learned from a young age to keep his hands to himself, even when his entire body longed for touch and his eyes filled with tears at the loss of a comforting habit.

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, angst, touch starved bakugou!!, kind of a character study? i think about him a lot, one kiss, cursing, consensual hand holding (PFFFT), mitsuki fucking sucks but what’s new

I hope you like this!! please remember feedback is always appreciated and all that. thank you for reading!! sorry if it sucks LMAO I DID MY BEST AND I KINDA LIKE IT

When he was a child, before he even cared about quirks or rankings or strength, Bakugou Katsuki loved holding hands.

No one knew exactly why, but that was just something he liked. He would hold Izuku’s hand while they talked and ran around the neighborhood, he would take his teacher's hand in his ever so softly whenever he walked over to their desk to ask a question. Katsuki would latch onto his dad with the most loving, tiny grip he could muster, and he would even interlace pinkies with his mom when she was having a good day and didn’t deem his manners “too soft”, “too weak”, “too foolish”. Those were nice days in the Bakugou household.

Bakugou Katsuki was five years old when he had his heart broken for the first time. It was a few weeks after his quirk manifested and he was just so excited to play hero (with a quirk, this time!) alongside his friends after school that he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing Izuku’s hand exactly like he always did, jumping up and down with energy and happiness, rambling about how he was gonna be the number one hero one day — until Izuku screamed, pulling his hand away with a painful expression. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows, confused at his best friend’s antics, and then he saw it: the raw, burned flesh of his palm.

Katsuki had hurt his best friend.

It’s very easy to fix objects, his dad used to tell him while stitching up one of his ripped shirts, you just get a bit of glue or yarn and you put it back together, a smile graced his lips at the feeling of his son taking his hand immediately after he let go of the sewing needle, but people are a lot harder to patch up, Katsu. People can’t be fixed, sometimes.

He wasn’t exactly sure of when he started shoving his hands inside his pockets, when he started opening doors with his feet and touching people with his shoulders to get their attention. It took him a while to understand that that first occasion wasn’t an accident, and that controlling his quirk when he got too excited or just overly happy was too hard and the security he got from all those tender touches he so eagerly searched from everyone in his life wasn’t worth the risk. The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.

He told himself it didn’t matter. You’d have to overgrow that over time, anyway, his mom reminded him at some point. Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.

It was easy to pretend he didn’t miss it. After a few years, the lack of touch was simply another part of his life he consciously chose to ignore, another longing he conditioned himself not to think about. It wasn’t like many people noted his abrupt change in behavior either — there were other things about him that were much more worthy of attention than that, like his killer quirk and quick brain, like his determination and ambition. Who cared about the fact that little Bakugou Katsuki didn’t want to hold hands anymore? Who cared about the fact that little touchy and clingy Bakugou Katsuki now barely touched others?

Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.

He met her during his second year at UA. Y/N was mostly quiet, but still friendly and hardworking, fighting hard for her place as the number one student in Class 2-B. A project involving the two classes put them as partners, and project meetings soon became sparring sessions that turned into study group that led to study dates and then real dates and, by the beginning of his senior year, Katsuki had gotten himself a girlfriend.

He wasn’t certain if she noticed the way he purposely kept his hands out of reach when they walked side by side, or if she ever saw how he always made sure his palms were pointing away from her skin whenever they hugged or cuddled. He didn’t think anyone would ever pay enough attention to him to the point of perceiving his hesitancy. It didn’t matter that Bakugou had gained complete control of his quirk, it didn’t matter that he still felt his skin and his hands tingling with the urge, the craving for touch — the satisfaction wasn’t worth the risk, not the stupid satisfaction he didn’t even need. Such childish, silly bullshit. Bakugou Katsuki was doing very well with letting go of old customs, no doubt.

But Y/N noticed. God, of course she did — she noticed all the longing gazes, all the small flinches. She noticed how he never let his hands touch hers and at first it made her worried. Didn’t he want to touch her? Had she done something wrong? Her boyfriend wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, even though he had been putting in the effort to talk to her whenever he felt a bit under the weather or bothered.

However, this seemed like a bigger problem, like something he would never speak of unless she brought it up. It seemed deeper.

“Katsu?”

He lifted his scarlet eyes from the book in his hands and turned them to her sitting figure. They were both on his bed, despite curfew starting in less than an hour and the knowledge they shouldn’t be alone in his dorm. To be honest, Aizawa was quite used to watching the Class B girl sneak out of his student’s room every other night, wearing one of his many hoodies and those shorts that she always left in his closet. As long as they weren’t causing him any trouble, Eraserhead didn’t cause them any trouble, either.

“Yeah?” his voice was clearly tired after a day full of training and studying, a hint of sleepiness dripping from his tone.

“How come you never let me hold your hand?”

Katsuki froze on the spot, feeling his heart pick up its pace until it was beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, throbbing. He gulped harshly, sweat immediately gathering up on his hands from his own anxiety. She had noticed?

“What do you mean?” he tried to laugh calmly, but his chuckle sounded forced and nervous. He put the book away.

“You never let me hold your hand,” Y/N’s cheeks were tinted red with shyness. She had been pondering on how to talk to him about this for days now, yet seeing him so flustered made her surprisingly tense. “You avoid touching me with your hands in general, actually,” her chuckle sounded as forced and nervous as his, “is… Is there something wrong? Would you feel better if I stopped touching you so much? Does it make you uncomfortable? Because I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Katsu. You can talk to me about things like that, you know it.”

He couldn’t get himself to answer, unable to move or truly process her words. He really thought he had been slick, huh? He really thought she’d never notice, he really thought she’d never care. How would she feel if he told her he was afraid to hurt her, that he was afraid he would lose control of his quirk and burn her somehow, like he had done with Izuku all those years ago? Would she think he was childish and silly, too? Such childish, silly bullshit, Bakugou Katsuki scared of holding hands with his girlfriend, scared of touching her and holding her like she deserved to because what if it went wrong? What if he fucked it up? The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.

People are a lot harder to patch up, his father told him. He didn’t want to be guilty of screwing this up, didn’t want to destroy the relationship he cherished so, so much. Would she think he was weak for being this reluctant? Would she laugh at his stupid antics and tell him to grow up and stop being such a softie? Would she get mad? Should he even tell her?

“Katsu?” her soft voice relaxed his muscles like it habitually did, and he sighed deeply before meeting her worried eyes. “Talk to me?”

Y/N had always had this amazing talent of making him feel at ease. Ever since they met, so many months ago, she had this blinding quality that urged him to be quieter, calmer, less defensive. She didn’t even have to try tearing down his walls — they simply melted away when she smiled at him for the first time. He had never really talked about this issue with anyone else before, and he didn’t know how to even start, but Y/N made him want to try. Still, the words felt heavy on his tongue.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered so quietly that she leaned in to hear him, furrowing her eyebrows in disagreement.

“Come on, Katsu. Please?”

He inhaled deeply. She stared patiently, waiting for him to organize his own thoughts enough to explain the thousands of things running through his mind. When his eyes met hers again, he felt warm all over. Katsuki loved the way she looked at him — there was no fear, no ulterior interest, no nonsensical admiration. She looked at him and she saw… Katsuki. Just that. And, strangely, that seemed enough.

The boy averted his eyes from hers. “I don’t want to hurt you with my quirk.”

Oh. Oh? That, well, that was definitely unexpected. The crease in Y/N’s eyebrows deepened.

“Why would you ever hurt me, Katsuki?”

The future hero lifted his head to look at her instantly, confusion swimming in his red gaze as he answered, “I mean by accident, Y/N. I—,” he almost stopped himself right there, yet her expression caused him to continue, “I really liked holding hands when I was younger, you know? With my friends, teachers, family, and all that,” his ears were bright pink with embarrassment that subsided when she smiled softly at the new information, “it made me feel safe or whatever. Then I—then I got my quirk and, sometimes, when I held hands with people it just—,” he exhaled heavily before letting out a sad, defeated laugh, “I have burned a nasty amount of people. I don’t want to do that with you, too. I’d never want to hurt you.”

Katsuki was hardly a vulnerable person. He tried to be, yes, because he wanted this to work and for it to work he had to meet her halfway somehow during certain moments, but it was so, so difficult. It was so difficult for him to open up and talk about one of his biggest insecurities of all time, about one of the things he most craved for. He didn’t want to scare her away.

“Katsuki.” Her tone was serious and she stared at him with such intensity that he lost the ability to breathe for a second. “I understand where you’re coming from, but that’s bullshit.”

Bakugou blinked. “What?”

“You’d never hurt me, okay? I know you wouldn’t. I trust you, Katsu, so much. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about this before,” she bit her lip thoughtfully while he could only stand there, dumbfounded with her reaction.

Out of all his imagined worst-case scenarios, this was a surprise.

“Katsu,” the girl called to him again, smiling lovingly in that way that made his world spin in its axis when they first met, “do you trust me too?”

“Of course I do,” there was no hesitation this time. Of course he did.

“Can I touch your hands?”

Once again, he froze on the spot. She looked at him expectantly.

People are a lot harder to patch up. She was trying, though. She was really trying to fix the ripped pieces of himself he tried to bury under anger and seclusion, pretending there was nothing wrong and that this was just how things were supposed to be.

Bakugou looked down at his own hands, studying them carefully. With a last shaky exhale, he nodded.

She took his hands in hers, letting her fingers interlace with his cautiously so as to not startle him. Her thumb caressed his palm ever so softly and he fought the instinctive flinch that threatened to push her away. After years without it, this type of touch felt too intimate, too close, too new.

He liked it.

He smiled.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” Y/N smiled back, grinning when he took it upon himself to squeeze her hand in appreciation. “You’re fine, Katsuki. I like holding your hand.”

His smile grew wider and he leaned in to kiss her, living for the feeling of her fingers squeezing his while their lips moved slowly. They had kissed a million times before, yet this felt different. If given the chance, Katsuki probably wouldn’t mind being stuck in that moment forever, with her lips on his and his hands on hers — Y/N had melted away all his walls and defenses from the start, and he was incredibly glad. He was incredibly glad for her.

His heart was beating fast inside his chest, especially when she pulled one of his hands up slightly to let it cup her face. A shiver went down his spine as he felt the curve of her jaw under his fingertips, the softness of her skin touching his. When there was not any air left in their lungs, they parted from each other. She turned her face to kiss his palm affectionately and his entire face seemed to burst with love and gratitude.

“I like holding your hand, too.”

She giggled, and, for the first time, Bakugou felt like it’d be alright if he decided not to keep his hands to himself. Such childish, silly bullshit, waiting around when he could’ve been holding hands this whole time.

A/N: so that was it!!! i hope you liked it!!! hehe hello

taglists

all: @kiedhara @wingeddemonclub @thedemigodsarealivebitch @ray-ofmoonlight

also tagging @tsuhika bc i am: a fan and you gave us permission to tag you in shit SOO KJSFBIUEFB LMAO SORRY

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader

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emeren · 3 years

Note

heyy I love your writing and have a request! It’s pretty open ended but the synopsis is a cliche LMAO, eren x reader, the get into a fight about something stupid and then a couple days of silence, you can fill in the rest but ends in make up sex hehe :) I hope this request wasn’t too much

don’t worry, i love a good cliche!! thank you so much for this request! i had a fun time writing it, i hope you enjoy!! <3

pairing: eren x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

content warnings: 18+, smut, slight degradation

SUMMARY: after an argument, eren and the reader go several days without talking to each other, determined to outlast one another. but eren can only go so long without physical contact ;)

“oh my god,” eren’s voice was exasperated as he unlocked the front door to your shared apartment, successfully cutting you off. “i swear to god, you can be so fucking annoying sometimes.”

a scoff left your lips, his insult only furthering the anger festering inside of you. “i’m annoying? you’re the one that embarrassed me in front of all our friends.”

“i didn’t do shit,” eren hissed as you slammed the front door shut, angrily tossing the keys down on the entry table. “i made one joke and you blew it way out of proportion.”

“it literally made everyone, including myself, uncomfortable,” you crossed your arms as he ran his large hand down his face. the two of you were at it again, arguing over something insignificant. “you literally have no fucking filter! sometimes i wonder why we’re even still invited to shit!”

“oh, fuck off,” eren sneered, narrowing his eyes at you. his brows were furrowed, long hair haphazardly resting on his shoulders. he was so stubborn sometimes, nearly driving you to insanity. “you act as if i’m the only one at fault here.”

“maybe take some responsibility and stop acting like a fucking child,” you snapped, shoving past him to walk into your bedroom. eren was right behind you, determined to get the last word.

“i’m not acting like a child,” he nearly yelled, arms propped on either side of the door frame. you were beyond pissed, irritation crawling into every crevasse of your mind.

“eren, i’m done talking with you,” you said seriously, trying to avoid making things even worse with a quip remark. your words only seemed to inflate the side of him that was determined on winning every little argument known to man, his hand grabbing the door knob to yank it closed.

“you know what? fine. i’m fucking done talking to you too.”

**********

it had been three days.

three days since your argument over a joke that, in all honesty, you couldn’t even remember.

the two of you were stubborn to the point of utter silence; sharing a bed, kitchen, and bathroom without so much as a word. deep down, you knew your anger had morphed into some need to last longer than eren, and you had a feeling he was doing the same.

it was a regular wednesday night, the tv playing quietly in the background as you read a book on the couch. eren had gone out awhile ago for some unspoken reason, leaving you to relish in the peaceful atmosphere.

your newfound luxury was broken by the sound of the front door unlocking, the familiar clink of his keys on the table rattling over the muted television. you glanced up from your page, watching as eren entered the living room with a takeout bag in hand. he was wearing a sweatshirt, silently setting the bag down before sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

you heaved a breath out, subconsciously deciding to ignore him as you turned back to your book. eren just watched the tv, shuffling quietly in an attempt to get comfortable. you couldn’t help but eye the bag on the coffee table, wondering why eren hadn’t decided to start eating whatever was in there.

you were startled by the feeling of eren’s hand on the back of your head, fingers gently scratching at your scalp. you glanced over to him, but he was staring at the tv, jaw clenched. you rolled your eyes, slightly shifting on the cushion to give his arm better leverage.

eren took your movement as a sign of acceptance, scooting even closer so that your legs were nearly touching. you bit your lip, trying to seem nonchalant. your brain wasn’t processing the words on the page, eyes merely moving back and forth to give the allusion of focus.

it was as eren’s hand left your head, coming down to ‘innocently’ palm at your bare thigh, that the small thread of focus you had snapped, breath hitching. he took notice, squeezing the flesh. you loved the way his long fingers looked gripping your leg, an all too familiar ache making itself known between your legs.

your eyes trailed up from his hand, briefly meeting his teal gaze before he leaned forward, lips desperately latching onto yours. his hands flew to your waist, roughly pressing you back onto the couch.

his lips hotly melded with yours, a certain neediness behind the gesture as his teeth grazed your bottom lip. you whimpered at the bite, eren using it to invite his tongue inside your mouth. he groaned as your hand flew up to tug at his hair, aggressively grinding his hips against yours.

you weren’t surprised by how hard he was, considering it’d been three days since either of you had experienced any form of relief. the feeling of his dick rubbing against your clothed center only heightening the burning in the pit of your stomach.

eren’s lips sloppily left yours, hand lifting to yank the collar of your shirt down so that one of your breasts was exposed. he hungrily kissed down your neck, mouth latching onto your nipple as his other hand aggressively squeezed the other.

your head rolled back, fist pressing eren’s head against your chest as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. his hand left your other breast, tugging your shorts down your thighs.

his movements were erratic and rushed, mouth leaving your breast with a loud smack. he hovered above you, eyes dark and lustrous. there was a small smirk toying at his features as he leaned forward, tongue sliding along his bottom lip.

you stared up at him, heart beating. “open up, pretty.”

you did as you were told, swollen lips parting just in time for him to spit directly in your mouth. the bitter liquid slid down your throat instinctively, eren giving your side a light squeeze in approval.

he brought his two hands down to fully yank your shorts off, pressing a kiss to your lips as you tugged his sweats and boxers down.

eren sat up so that he was on his knees above you, large cock pressed against his stomach. you gripped the length, eagerly pumping it as he stared down at you. you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing full well what was coming.

eren was quick to shove you back down onto the couch, hand guiding his tip just inside your entrance. you whined at the sensation, lifting yourself to kiss him. he frowned, effectively shoving your head back down on the couch.

“ah, ah, ah,” he tutted as he shoved the full extent of his length within you, your neck craning back at the uncomfortable stretch. “i want to watch you while i fuck you.”

with that he pulled all the way out before ramming his hips against yours, a cry ripping through your chest. he was relentless, bucking desperately into you, cock nearly smacking your cervix with each thrust.

“fuckin’ pissed me off,” he grunted as he filled you to the hilt, spare hand coming down to feverishly rub at your clit. you moaned at the overstimulation, the swell in your chest growing at just how aggressive eren was being. “hm? not so quiet now, huh pretty little slut?”

you could feel your orgasm building as both his fingers and hips sped up, abusing your cunt. you closed your eyes, fully anticipating the dopamine rush. eren wasn’t quite finished yet, pulling his dick completely out of you.

your eyes snapped open at the sudden emptiness, eren staring down at you through his brows.

“not gunna fight with me anymore, right?” he asked, rubbing his tip against your clit slowly. your face was warm, eyes lidded with pleasure. eren glared at you, clearly wanting a response. “lemme hear you beg.”

“i won’t, i won’t fight with you,” you mewled desperately, slightly lifting your hips. “missed this too much. missed you too much.”

eren grinned darkly, stuffing his cock deep within your cunt once again. he pressed his body against yours for better leverage, lips by your ear. you moaned loudly as he deliberately slid in and out.

“takes her punishment like such a good girl,” he cooed, dick twitching inside of you as his thumb came back down to rub out your high. your vision grew blurry, the pit in your stomach spreading as your limbs began to tingle. your chest heaved as you rode out your release.

eren pulled out, quickly pumping his shaft, a throaty groan leaving his lips as he released his load on your face. the warm liquid dripped down your cheeks, a surprised scoff leaving your mouth.

“my face? really?” you breathed out, eren snickering as he tugged his pants back up.

“hold on, just a sec,” he leaned over the coffee table and grabbed the takeout bag, rifling through it for a napkin. you had your eyes squinted, trying not to let his cum obscure your vision. he came back over you, gently wiping at your skin. “oh, i want to apologize for how i was acting. i shouldn’t have made that joke.” he whispered.

you let out a sigh, watching his face as he cleaned you up. “i’m sorry for the things i said, too.”

eren grinned, placing a kiss on your forehead. “in that case, would you like some pad thai? i got it just for this.”

“wait,” you gasped, sitting up. “this was your plan all along?”

“well, yeah. if the makeup sex didn’t work, i was gonna win your forgiveness through your stomach,” he sneered, reaching for the bag. you held back a laugh, feigning annoyance.

“you are such an ass,” you groaned, swatting his shoulder. eren smirked at you, opening the container.

“i know.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager #eren jeager smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger #eren yaeger smut #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jäger #eren #eren x reader

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alvfr · 3 years

Text

Trust

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Prompt: Y for Yolo (Public Sex), requested by Anon

Rating: Explicit. 18+, minors DNI

Words: 7.2K

Includes: Semi-public sex. Shieldmaiden!Reader. PiV (unprotected). Fingering. Some exhibitionism, some overstim.

A/N: Takes place before Thor 1, when Loki was a bit more innocent. A hint of feelings, but mostly smut. Cross-posted to AO3, link in my masterlist. Enjoy ❤

Trust

Some people said Loki Odinson had a tongue of silver. An innate charm and ability to get his way. Volstagg teased him about it, but the moniker didn’t come entirely unearned. There had been many times where Loki had talked his way out of trouble — or as had happened lately — into your breeches.

It was Freya’s blessing he wanted to keep this thing as secret as you. No one in your little troop of warriors would ever let you live it down if they found out he had talked you into this.

No one ever came up here, he said. Private and secluded, he said. More private than either of your chambers, he said. And the wind carried the noise away so you wouldn’t need to be quiet. All things he’d said to convince you to join him on one of the higher balconies.

“Loki,” you almost hissed, withdrawing slightly from the heavy make-out session where he had you pinned up against a column. He took advantage of your new position and latched his mouth onto the soft parts of your throat instead. There were plenty of reasons to call him Silvertongue, you thought hazily, but forced your eyes open to glare at him. “Loki, I can see all of fucking Asgard from here!”

“And they,” he didn’t even stop layering kisses on your neck, but now his hands joined in on the fun where he groped the few available inches of your waist below the thick leather bodice you wore, “can’t see us.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He finally straightened up to look at you, forcing you to tilt your head back to keep him in focus and making your heart beat uncomfortably fast by the intensity of his stare. Bright eyes giving you their full attention and his lips pulled up in a small smirk — like he was thinking of a joke and not about to share. His normally thin lips now plump and wet from the heavy kisses, and his lithely muscled chest moving in tune with his slightly hard breaths. Even if there weren’t any feelings involved in this — because there weren’t — there was no escaping the fact that the youngest prince was as handsome as he was clever.

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve, Shieldmaiden,” he said and squeezed the available flesh on your hips almost in affection. The movement pulled you into him where something hot and hard rubbed against the upper edge of your breeches. His eyebrow lifted on the same side where his lip remained pulled up in semi-amusement. “I thought we were in agreement.”

He wasn’t taunting you. In fact, his voice was smooth as the marble of the balcony, but it felt like a challenge. That was probably how all of this had started in the first place when you thought about it. A trap disguised as a challenge, one he knew you’d never back down from. It should have angered you, but right now it only made you slicker within the confines of your underclothes and your nipples tightened against the molded cups of hardened leather, separated by the rough cloth of your tunic. He knew you and he’d wanted you, so he figured out how to get you. And now he had you.

“There is no one here,” Loki murmured, probably interpreting your thoughtful silence for what it was — a desire to be persuaded. He bent his head down to nip gently at your throat again. Never hard enough to leave marks somehow, but hard enough that you felt them. “I thought it’d be more comfortable than rutting like animals behind the mead hall.”

The vibration from his lips on your sensitive skin had your body humming in tune. You dropped your head back against the column, closing your eyes briefly. “You thought a marble balcony would be more comfortable?”

“At least it doesn’t smell like horse shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and felt him smile against the curve of your neck. “I don’t know, I think it gave a specific ambiance.”

“Mm,” he murmured in mock agreement and moved his mouth lower, deftly pulling loose the strings keeping the neckline of your tunic decent and exposing more skin. “And there’s light here.”

Rolling your eyes, trying to conceal how good his tongue felt slipping over your collar bone, you muttered: “Yes, it usually is outside in the middle of the day.”

“Well, forgive me,” Loki moved up again, caging you in and making you feel tiny in a way no one else ever had, “for wanting to see you for once.”

He accompanied his words by pulling the open ends of your tunic apart, exposing the swell of your breasts to the midday sun. Maybe the light was another part that made you nervous. This arrangement you had — hurried and desperate groping on top of hay bales after returning from a quest, usually after having too much mead or if Volstagg got sufficiently under Loki’s skin so he again needed to get under yours — didn’t seem fit for daylight.

As handsome as he was, it bordered on too much to see the glint in his eye — never letting you doubt that he was watching you watching him in turn. Your breath hitched when Loki, not dropping his eyes down even a fraction, ran a finger along the edge where your leather bodice cupped your breasts. Goosebumps trailed in his wake that had nothing to do with temperature and your nippled stiffened further. You wondered if he would be able to see them from his angle, and the thought sent zings of excitement into your core.

“Tell me if you changed your mind,” Loki drawled, dipping the finger a bit lower and running it back so it whispered over the upper edge of your nipples. A teasing and fleeting touch that had your spine curving to get more. His voice never wavered, eyes still glittering in the sunlight, but this was the Loki you knew best. The dangerous Loki, who watched and listened and schemed while the rest of you just fought blindly and readily. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, unable to speak when he leaned against the side of your head. Breath hot in the shell of your ear as he whispered: “Shieldmaiden.”

A challenge, but by now your slick underclothes and your stubborn mind were in agreement. With a huff, you grabbed one of the latches by his hip and pulled him closer. “Make it fast.”

The smile stretching over his lips infuriated you so much you kissed him only to make it disappear. It didn’t, but he kissed back as best he could while you both worked to get sufficiently out of your clothes to scratch that itch. An itch you hadn’t known before Loki first propositioned you, and now made it hard to focus with him nearby. Neither were wearing full armor and as intricate as the Asgardian fashion design went, certain practicalities were still maintained and it made things infinitely easier.

This was more how you knew it, you thought, while Loki forced his hand into your open breeches, dipping straight into your wet core. Desperate and hurried, without the need for all this talking. A hard finger rubbed in between your folds, working its way up to where you needed him the most. His taller frame had you pinned against the column; his heavy breaths echoed over your skin while you struggled to undo the bindings of his trousers.

“Oh fuck me,” you moaned and bit down a louder sound. Loki took pride in your pleasure and now two of his fingers circled your clit that steadily swelled with arousal. You already had your hand over his hard erection, and palmed it through the supple leather, knowing his size and how good he’d feel inside of you in a bit.

“That is the plan.” Loki didn’t even sound smug, just that same even tone, and only his nostrils flared slightly to give any indication at how your hand clumsily rubbed his length. His brows furrowed and he flicked your clit harder, while you pressed into the cool marble behind you. “The wind carries sound away, Shieldmaiden. Let me hear you, no one else will.”

“There’s-” You inhaled sharply when he made a particularly harsh swipe, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your outer limbs. “There’s guards not even twenty feet below us.”

This upper balcony overlooked the vast rows of the golden patios adorning the entire side of the palace. Maybe Loki was right and this one was left alone — possibly reserved for the royal family now that you considered it — but the heavily armored guards trawled every other possible vantage point. Never mind that Asgard hadn’t faced attackers in centuries — Odin might have grown fat, but never careless.

Another hard gasp when Loki shifted his hand to slip two long, elegant fingers inside of you. A tight fit, no matter how many times he’d done it, and you gasped at the intrusion mixed with the overwhelming sensation. Your cunt burned now, throbbing and needy, while your rationality detached from your brain.

“Don’t,” he warned, penetrating you equally hard with his stare, “let your mind wander now. I see you biting your tongue when you want to mewl, Shieldmaiden, don’t hold back. Not here, not with me.”

The heel of his hand ground against your clit and you writhed against the column, fully at his mercy and mind blanking with ecstasy. “The guards-”

“Won’t hear a thing over the wind.” Loki licked his lips, staring at your heaving chest, then back to focus at your widened eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Your first instinct was to laugh with a whole-hearted ‘No!’, but an edge to his voice drowned yours in your throat. The things he was doing with his hand, thrusting two fingers sloppily into your wet cunt, made it hard to breathe, let alone think clearly. Did you trust him? You shouldn’t. And yet...

“I trust you.”

The handsome smile stretching over his face — handsome and dangerous — quickened your heart again, but then he pressed his lips against yours for a deep kiss while his fingers positively danced over your clit. The warm taste of his tongue and the hard edge of his teeth nipping your bottom lip made your head swim. Your knees trembled, all thoughts of how this would look should someone come wandering to this part of the balcony gone from your mind. Nothing in focus except the burning ache in your clit where he continued to rub and rub and rub-

His wet lips shimmered across yours when he spoke. “Let me hear you.”

You stared at him with pleading eyes. The occasions to fornicate without an unsuspecting audience nearby had been few and far between in your life. Either quick and messy thrusts near the campsite or muffled grinding at your chambers where the walls seemed paper-thin despite being made of stone. At this point, biting down your moans had become second nature, but Loki’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh fuck,” you breath out, more a grunt than anything more enticing when he shoved the two fingers back into your dripping wet sex. He had long arms, but you were still on your toes to give him better access. The reward came in his fingers curling, rubbing against that blasted spot inside your channel that made your eyes cross. “Loki, what-”

“Let,” his thumb swiped across your clit, “me,” the two fingers inside pumped steadily, “hear you.”

He massaged that particular spot again and your legs would have squeezed together if his knee hadn’t shoved in to keep them apart.

At this point, you didn’t even care about the guards. The sounds stuck in your throat, so many years of training hindering anything louder than your hard breaths. You quivered in his grip, no longer paying any attention to the hardness in his trousers, and realized you would have collapsed if he hadn’t held you upright.

“Loki, I-”

Words failed you again and you momentarily hated how whiny you sounded. The wind might have drowned out most sounds, but you swore you heard the wet squelches from his fingering louder than your own heartbeat. He had learned since this started where to touch you. How to make your clit scream after his touch and how to rub it until your wet cunt clamped around nothing, desperate for something to fill it.

“Oh Freya’s tits,” you swore softly, leaning into his slim body, caring less about anything else by each passing stroke of his fingers. “Gods, yes, plea-”

Loki’s silver tongue ran along the curve of your ear, his fingers never stilling on your tight bundle of nerves, and you trembled all over. His voice raised every hair on your body, although you weren’t sure if it was in a good way or not. He only said one word, but it rushed a new flood of wetness around his fingers.

“God.”

Too far gone to argue or think clearly, you just nodded and tried to keep breathing. The wave — the roaring gale of sheer bliss — rose inside of you, stoked higher every passing second and every passing swipe of his fingers. A moan rose from your chest, but was instinctively bit down before it reached past your lips.

With a growling sound of frustration, Loki tore his hand from your cunt and the sudden loss left you dizzy.

“What-”

His hand glistened and left smears on the front of his own trousers where he completed the work you had started to get himself free. You caught the briefest glimpse of a thatch of smooth black hair and his veined heavy cock before he spun you around.

“Since you insist on remaining quiet,” he said with his mouth near your ear while manhandling you like you were some dainty elfling instead of a battle-forged warrior, “we might as well take full advantage.”

It was easy to forget how strong Loki was, especially when you usually saw him next to his beefcake of a brother. Even without the gleaming biceps on display, Loki still had this functional strength that took you by surprise even now. Long, lean muscles that you knew on a rational level could lift you easily — as he had done behind the mead hall at times — but quickened your breath every time he did so. Like now, where he steered you to face the spectacular view of Asgard with him directly behind you. Despite his strength, his hand skated over your back with only the faintest hint of pressure to have you lean forward. You did, still reeling from the loss of his hand in the first place, and braced yourself on the tall marble parapet.

Next thing you knew, he pushed your tunic up to your waist and yanked your open breeches down so the aforementioned wind caressed the naked flesh of your buttocks. Not just the wind — Loki’s hand also massaged you appreciatively, kneading the supple flesh and spreading your cheeks. It spread your swollen nether lips too, where the wind cooled your glistening parts that his fingers had teased open and ready.

Staring wide-eyed into nothing, you thought you heard the sounds of him stroking himself. He had large hands and a large cock — one that reached far beyond your comfort level when shoved down your throat — and you suddenly realized that you hadn’t seen him either in daylight. Rubbed it, sucked it, and fucked it, but never seen it.

It made you arch your back and peer over your shoulder, too curious for your own good. God. That was exactly what he looked like. A god. All his clothes intact save from the open fly where his pale, strong cock protruded a few inches before disappearing into his moving fist. The hint of a deep pink head, smeared with pearly white pre-cum. His eyes were glued to you where you were on full display, legs spread as far as they went with your breeches gathered somewhere around knee height.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, where his hand went faster over his cock. Your cunt throbbed while your heart jumped as he looked up, that tell-tale smirk back on his lips when he had caught you looking at him. Still a hint of something softer in his eyes when he dipped his fingers between your folds again, as if gauging your wetness. “Are you ready?”

Your eyelashes fluttered down when the soft pad of his finger circled your clit. It somehow made him look godlier where he stood, proud and tall outlined against the marble backdrop. Mouth dry, you nodded, too far gone to be embarrassed by how you pushed against his finger. The teasing had reached an excruciating level where it burned from your clit and up to a tight ball in your lower stomach.

With a close-lipped smile, Loki’s gaze dropped to between your legs again and his eyelids drooped down a bit. Your neck strained from watching him at the awkward angle, but you couldn’t help it. Everything you saw made you wetter and more eager for him. The sunlight bouncing off his sleek black hair, the carved contours of his throat muscles flexing when he swallowed, and the thick head of his cock that now disappeared from view before you felt it separate your folds instead.

“Fuck,” you moaned, still under your breath, and caught the satisfied curl to Loki’s lips before you fell forward to support yourself on the tall balustrade. There was no way to spread your legs further, but you tried to bend so your hips pushed backward and gave him more room. The sound of Loki’s hardened breaths sent tingles up your spine, but when his cock pushed deeper inside you didn’t hear anything anymore. The round curve of his head poked into your heat, before he pulled back, spreading your essence around and driving in again. Always careful, always mindful of your reactions, using his demanding grip on your hips to move you back and forth.

“You are,” Loki murmured and his hands shifted to spread your cheeks again, probably giving him the view of your swollen cunt speared by his cock, “absolutely stunning. Who would have known what an exquisite quim you were hiding underneath that armor?”

The compliment had you burning hotter than being fully exposed like this. At least you could glare at the long stretches of Asgardian architecture instead of facing his infuriating smirk. Infuriating and handsome smirk. Gorgeous. Stunning. Exquisite. Not words you normally heard about yourself. They were soft words, painting a picture that didn’t fit with your image. Silvertongue, you reminded yourself, knowing Loki treated talking like a game to be won.

“I thought I said to make it fast,” you bit out over your shoulder, headstrong as always even with half of Loki’s cock buried in your wet channel. “Ah — fuck!”

It was now all of Loki’s cock buried in you.

He’d pushed forward with a sharp thrust so his balls slapped against your clit with an embarrassingly wet sound. Fingers biting into your hips like yours tried to carve their way into the marble parapet, he held himself there. All the way inside. Just on the slight verge of being too big. Too thick, too long, too something to possibly fit inside. Yet he did and you ground your teeth together, now not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your so-called mewls because he felt fucking good.

“Very well,” Loki said somewhere behind you, his voice breaking even if he tried to sound nonchalant. He had to feel how you clamped down on him, still tight no matter how wet he’d made you. You fucking hoped he felt it because your vision almost blurred while your sex rejoiced at being so thoroughly stuffed. “Have it your way then, Shieldmaiden.”

You tried to breathe, but the next hard thrust he made had you seeing stars. The glittering rooftops of Asgard blurred and stretched, like a personal replica of the Bifrost, while Loki fucked you into oblivion. Breasts jerking forward inside your bodice, threatening to spill over the edge where your tunic hung more open than closed, while your cunt tried to swallow his cock whole.

At least his unforgiving pace left little space for conversation, and you heard the sharp breaths that you knew meant he hissed through his teeth at every hard push forward with his hips. Large hands pulled you back to meet him, meaning every single stroke hit that soft spot inside of you that made your legs shake.

Eyes closed, mouth hanging open, you felt the wave build again. That deep and hard pleasure from his cock sliding into you over and over again, continuing the work his fingers had started. Eyes rolling back, it was sheer luck you happened to open them just when you did.

“Loki, stop, stop,” you hissed under your breath, holding a hand back blindly to make him pause. “Guards.”

A handful of them, moving on the patio below you, the sun glinting off their heavy helmets. You swallowed a groan when Loki pushed back in — your cunt well open and inviting for him by now — and felt his breath shimmer across your neck as he leaned forward to look. His tall frame bent over yours, covering you completely while his hands landed on the parapet.

“What are you worried about?” he murmured directly into your ear, the smoothness of his voice gliding straight down into your core. Fully lodged inside of you, he ground against your backside so you felt the clasps on his trousers push into your skin. The heat from his breath felt like dragonfire, and you didn’t have the forethought to push back when he maneuvered you closer to the parapet. “You’re not making any sounds.”

Gods, he felt good. His cock carving out your cunt, like no lover ever had before. You still tried to think, to keep your wits somewhat. “If they look up—”

“They’ll see your pretty face,” Loki whispered and his teeth grazed your earlobe. “And nothing more.”

Of course your treacherous mind wandered. If the guards happened to glance up, would they be able to tell what was happening? From your face alone, maybe? From the sheen of sweat on your cheeks or the heat burning in your eyes? Surely they’d see the movement, how every firm push from Loki jolted you forward and had your mouth dropping open even if you tried to bite your jaw shut?

“They won’t be able to tell,” Loki snaked his hand forward and around your waist, “that this honorable Shieldmaiden is getting her cunt stuffed full of royal cock.”

The words dropped like iron weights into your soul. Loki rarely swore — never had a need for it — and you tightened involuntarily by how elegant he still made it sound. And the bastard caught on.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His thrusts gained strength again, but he didn’t pull back too far, still whispering straight into your soul. “For them to see you like this? See you gasping for air and biting your tongue?”

His fingers found your clit and he drew tight circles around it. You writhed, not sure where to push or pull, wanting more and less at the same time.

“See beyond the armor,” you squeezed your eyes shut when he bucked forward and hit that blasted spot again, “and the jokes,” another wet sound when his balls slapped against your spread cunt, “and the stubborn pride?”

“Loki,” you whispered, staring at the guards that made no indication of hearing what was happening above them. You told yourself you were watching for signs of movement. Of anyone on the cusp of glancing up at the pair of you. That you weren’t looking because Loki’s words only stoked a fire ignited by your own thoughts. That you weren’t looking because you wanted them to look.

The slap of skin against skin, the thundering heartbeat in your chest, the wet squelches from Loki’s fingers on your clit — it sounded louder than Fossegrim’s violin in the echoes of his cave. How could they not hear you? How could they not realize that you were getting fucked within an inch of your life by the youngest Odinson less than twenty feet away?

Loki’s raw voice continued, each syllable slotted into place with meticulous precision. “What would they think if they saw their beloved Shieldmaiden bent over and fucked like some common whore?”

His words shouldn’t have made you wetter. On a rational level, you knew that, and yet they seemed to tease your burning clit with the same intensity as his fingers. The thrill of doing something so outrageous and indecent so close to guards who would salute you on the battlefield had your inner walls tighten around Loki’s irresistibly hard cock.

Their helmets were designed to withstand heavy blows. Clunky and inelegant for the wearers — they wouldn’t glance up without reason. You knew that, but the risk was still there. That one of them might want to stretch his neck. Or break regulations to scratch his scalp, sweaty and hot from wearing the golden bucket for so long. The risk that now had you pushing back to meet Loki’s strokes, rocking your hips to get more of his fingers on your clit. Harder, faster — you wanted him, more of him.

Almost flush against Loki’s chest where he rutted into you, you weren’t sure which heartbeat belonged to who. Whose breath burned its way into your lungs. Or whose head turned first to claim the other one’s lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.

But you definitely knew it was Loki’s hands trailing up the hard edge of your bodice and shoving it down below your breasts. Your nipples tightened in the sudden onrush of fresh air and you stifled a gasp at the full exposure. Indecent. Improper. Half-naked with your tits jerking forward with each of Loki’s hard thrusts. A far cry from the decorated warrior you were.

Not sure where to look — eyes for some reason glued at the guards’ helmets below — you knew you should ask him to stop. Ask him to move back so you weren’t halfway hanging over the parapet like this. Ask him to-

Ask him-

Something.

“Fuck, Loki,” you gasped. His long arms circled around you, one hand back in your sopping wet cunt and the other groping your breasts, tugging and tweaking each nipple in turn. “If they-”

“If they what?” His voice had turned less hard; a murmur into your neck. “See these?” He pinched one of your nipples, working you so quickly up against that edge that would have you pulse around his cock. “They should thank Freya for her blessings then, for throwing them a glimpse of paradise. Or they should curse her name, for how they will never get the image out of their head for as long as they live. Can you imagine? All those guards stroking their cocks to the memory of your naked tits? Spilling into their own hands while wishing — praying — that it would be onto your breasts?”

“F-fuck,” you moaned, arching your back to push your breasts into Loki’s hard hands and your ass into his groin. The lewd sounds of your fucking drowned out all else, while his other hand continued with the ruthless stimulation of your clit. “Fuck me, Loki, fuck-”

“In front of the guards?” Loki hissed, a frantic edge to his voice, his mouth open in a slit while he panted over the curve of your throat. “You’d like that? How about I take you down in the throne room? On your hands and knees, like an animal with the whole court watching your cunt take my cock? I’ll fuck you in front of the whole Asgardian army if you’d like. Have you ride my cock, jumping up and down until your knees give in and I have to take over? Using you like I’d use my hand before?”

Gods, you were close. Mind lost in a haze of lust and debauchery, you didn’t know where to focus. The tug of your nipples, the intense burn in your clit, the wet rub of his hard length against your inner walls. Or his voice. His beautiful, smooth voice whispering nothing but filth in your ear, filling your mind with images forbidden and forsakenly arousing. At this point, you’d agree to anything. You’d let him fuck you on Odin’s throne if he asked right now. On top of Odin, so your tits would jiggle into the old man’s face while Loki fucked you recklessly.

Anything, as long as he kept pushing you further and further against that sweet, sweet climax that would wreck your entire body.

“Let me hear you,” Loki whispered then and you allowed a slight whimper past your lips. “Let me hear your sweet voice, Shieldmaiden. I’ll ask for nothing else and give you all you want if you stop holding back.”

“Loki,” you moaned in a voice so unlike your own. Needy and wanton, strained from your awkward angled neck where you tried to turn your head to kiss him again. “Gods, Loki, I-”

He crushed his lips onto yours, so inelegant and hurried it didn’t feel like him for a second. Then his lips pushed yours open, slipping his tongue inside to dance next to yours, and it was him. All him. His taste and his heat and his beautiful mouth kissing yours. The thrusts lost the steady rhythm, the hand on your breast now moved down to your waist while his fingers on your clit never paused. Not once, not even when the kiss ended and you stared at him over your shoulder, trying to see all of him you could. Beautiful, beautiful Loki.

His skin shone with sweat, bright eyes wide open and focused on you. Spit smeared around his mouth, for once open and hard instead of smirking at some private joke.

“Loki.”

“There you go,” he murmured and trailed his fingers harder over your clit to the point where your knees buckled. “Say my name. Like that. Let me hear you.”

“Loki.”

“Beautiful, beautiful maiden.” He sounded less coherent than you, some part in the back of your mind noting the vast difference between ‘maiden’ and ‘common whore’. “My gorgeous Shieldmaiden, please let me hear you. Let me hear what this does to you. For once, let me-”

The heavy door to the upper balcony flew open with a bang.

There wasn’t enough time to hide — for fuck’s sake, your breeches were still hooked around your knees — but just as one of the many housemaids of the palace poked her head through the door, a slight ripple enveloped you and Loki.

Not able to breathe, you froze solid with Loki halfway inside of you. An illusion. He’d cast an illusion to cover you. He’d done it enough times on the battlefield for you to recognize the way the air seemed to buckle a bit around you, like watching the world through uneven glass. It came in handy for an ambush or when you were simply outnumbered, needing time to regroup. You had never appreciated his skills as much as now. A simple beheading sounded more welcome than getting caught like this.

Neither moved while the maid stepped onto the balcony, a broom in her hands as she started to sweep.She started to sweep.

Fucking sweep.

No one ever came up here, he’d said. Private and secluded, he’d said. More private than either of your chambers, he’d said.

“Loki,” you whispered so low you barely heard it yourself, praying to anyone who would listen that the blasted wind really did cover most of the sounds up here. “Lok-”

“Sh, sh. Don’t move.”

Easy for him to say, you wanted to scream. He wasn’t the one half-naked and stuffed full of cock. Tits out, cunt bared, and your face flushed with wanton lust. You had been so fucking close too and your body bemoaned the sudden drop, urging you to move your hips to get back up. You clenched without intending to and heard his slight hiss that sent chills down your spine.

“Tell me the illusion will hold.”

“It’ll hold.”

You stared at the older maid who scuttled around, humming under her breath and apparently oblivious to your presence. “Are you lying?”

“It’ll hold.” His voice had moved closer to your ear and your stomach dropped when you felt him buck slowly into you. “Trust me.”

“Don’t you fucking da-”

“Shh.”

“I swear if we get caught, I’ll disemb-”

“Quiet, or we will get caught.”

With excruciating slow and controlled movements — so slow you could feel every vein rub against your spongy insides — he continued fucking you.

Fucked you in full display of a clueless maid who swept the large balcony without a care in the world. Without seeing how Loki Odinson had you squirming in his grip. Back arched, held up by a strong arm around your midriff, you bit your lip to remain quiet. He felt so fucking good, so good you felt dumb. Cockdumb? Was that a term? It felt appropriate, and you were so wet you could feel your own juices run down your leg, dripping onto your undergarments.

“She’s coming closer.”

The ripples in the air in front of you didn’t budge and for once, Loki’s tone sounded reassuring. “She can’t see us.”

“Can she hear us?”

He nipped the side of your throat while the head of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you. “If I say yes?”

“Lok, I swea-”

He shushed you again and you felt the bastard smile against your skin. “If you’re worried, just be quiet.”

You had never been the one for magic and had no idea how much of Loki’s focus it took to keep the illusion intact. You could hardly stand from the intense pleasure spinning through your limbs, yet he somehow could keep fucking you while concealing you from the approaching maid with her broom. A broom that swept steadily over the marble floor, and you suddenly realized that you were invisible and not incorporeal.

Loki must have realized the same based on how he slowed down to a halt. His whisper edged its way to your conscious mind: “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Move with me.”

“Gods, Loki, I’ll get you for this.”

“Move.”

The maid was still ten feet away when Loki pulled you backward. The ripple followed you, this small bubble of just you and him and raw heat, and the maid did not even glance up. Loki fell back over one of the benches lining the inner part of the parapet and you fell on top of him. Spearing you thoroughly so you felt a small sharp pain on your inner parts. The swear died in your throat because Loki grabbed the underside of your thighs and tilted you back to lay against his chest and continued to fuck you.

“Have you lost your mind? Are you compl-”

“Will you have me stop?” he hissed in your ear, voice more ragged than ever before. “When you are dripping around me, hot and tight like the underside of a blacksmith’s forge? When I can feel your heartbeat through my cock? Shieldmaiden, you’re gripping me so hard, I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Just pull out or something.” Your protest sounded weak in your own ears. “Wait until she’s gone.”

“Do you really want that?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

He made a dark sound, but not displeased. “Your stubbornness will be the death of me, I’m sure. Lay back, maiden.”

His words rained on your skin like molten lava while you tried to fight the rising tidal wave of your approaching climax. You felt so good, so right, so beyond caring about the maid or the guards or anything beyond the delicious stretch of your sex. “But the illusion...”

“I think-”

A small gasp choked away in your chest when Loki spread your legs on top of him, giving the unwitting maid a show she couldn’t see. It was less about the public display of your swollen sex, and more to give him better access again.

“-that I have proved my abilities to do several things at once before.”

He held you up with that surprising strength, one hand on each thigh where you were nearly folded in half, knees pushed up to your shoulders. You almost went cross-eyed when he started making good of his promise to bounce you up and down on his cock. No one had ever made you feel small like he did. Tiny and weightless, even if you heard his hard breaths at what it cost him. Every snap of his hips upward should have roused the maid’s suspicion, but the illusion somehow held. Even with Loki working your insides to a frenzy, it held.

At a certain point, you stopped caring again. The maid seemed as inconsequential as the guards below where nothing mattered except Loki inside of you.

Your toes curled at the sensation of him dragging across your inner walls. His hot breath on your neck, his strong hands on your thighs, and that point he hit with each thrust upward that dislodged that block in your throat. You could feel it building alongside your rapidly approaching climax. The sounds he had asked for. It was not a sound the wind could ever hope to overpower.

“Loki, please, wait-” You babbled and moaned in a mixture of incoherent breaths. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“The illusion will hold, Shieldmaiden. She’ll be gone soon before I spill my seed, I am not that far gone yet.”

“It’s not- it’s not that.” Your voice low and tight, just like your cunt where you tried to squeeze more of him inside. “Loki, it’s me, I’m close, I can’t- I can’t hold- I-”

Loki shifted under you, staring at the maid moving towards the door at a leisurely pace. “A little longer, she’s almost gone.”

“I can’t-”

He stilled his thrusts and dropped you down so you sat in his lap. “Ten seconds, my b-”

“I can’t,” you moaned and found footing on the marble to move on your own. Sliding his cock in and out of you with abandon. “I can’t stop.” You wanted him so much. You needed to come now. You needed him, now. “Loki-”

“Shhh.” A newfound panic in Loki’s voice, and if you had paid attention, you would have seen the ripple in the air thinning out momentarily. The maid had her back turned on you where she headed for the balcony doors. “Oh hells. Wait, please-”

But you were so close and he felt so good. It rose and rose inside of you, this wave — this avalanche — of pure hot-white bliss, getting closer each time your ass slammed against his groin. You leaned back against his chest, pushing your breasts out, and rode him hard as you would a warhorse. Like a valkyrie on their proud steeds.

The scream that had built inside your chest along with your climax bubbled up to your throat now, threatening to spill. You were beyond caring about anything else, just impaling yourself over and over again, letting him hit every sweet spot inside of you.

And you would have screamed when the wave loosened — when the climax whipped into your body like a thunderstorm — if Loki hadn’t clamped his hand over your mouth at the same second. You still screamed, but the sound drowned in his strong hand, muted into nothing by the wind.

The balcony door swung shut — a sound barely registering through your foggy mind — and Loki’s illusion rippled before it snapped. While you still rocked your hips to prolong the wave of pleasure filling every particle of your being, you felt Loki’s deep groan in his chest as he joined you. Felt his seed spill deep into your pulsing sex while you rode out your own peak, whimpering against Loki’s hand, grinding against his chest.

Everything tingled and he twitched and spasmed inside you where string after string of thick white semen filled you up. It seemed to never stop, but eventually, it did. You slumped back against Loki’s chest, going up and down with each hard breath, and he gently removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to gulp down air. It helped somewhat, but you were so lightheaded the world spun circles around you, and you realized there were tears perched in your eyes from the intensity of it all.

His softening cock dislodged — leaving you thoroughly empty — while he moved you around so you could rest your cheek on his shoulder. He held you tight, rubbing your arm and thighs to help you down from whatever ethereal plane you had reached.

Finally you returned to this world and took in all the minor details. Breeches around your knees, bodice below your breasts, and covered in sweat and fluids. A mess, through and through, and your heart raced all over again at the multiple close calls.

“One day,” Loki murmured and tipped your head his way so he could place a gentle kiss on your raw lips, “I will learn all the sounds you can make.” He gave you a wide smile, tainted by exhaustion. “Shieldmaiden.”

It took some focus to find your voice, and you still sounded more breathless than fierce despite your best efforts. “Maybe not in a way we risk traumatizing the palace staff?”

He let out a low laugh, a comfortable sound despite the predicament of your clothing and appearance. “I swear, my beautiful warrior, I have never seen anyone up here before.”

“You still knew the guards were down below.”

“The wind-”

“You fuck off with that wind, Loki Liesmith.” You cupped his cheek with your palm and stared at his bright eyes. “Don’t think your Silver Tongue can talk you out of this one. We nearly got caught and when I catch my breath, I’ll break your jaw for it.”

And there was that infuriating and handsome smirk again. He swallowed, covering your hand with his own so he could bring it to his mouth where he placed a kiss in your palm. “You are in luck, Shieldmaiden.”

A warning sign, but you ignored it for now. “How so?”

“I just noticed there is a lock on that balcony door.”

Another warning sign.

“So when I find the key that fits,” he whispered in your ear, voice smooth as silk again, “I can use this tongue to both win your forgiveness,” you shivered when he ran the hot tip of his tongue down the curve your throat, “and learn all the sounds you can make.”

Some people said Loki Odinson had a tongue of silver. An innate charm and ability to get his way.

You were starting to think they had a point.

—

A/N: First time writing for Loki, so feedback appreciated - feel free to send me a message on anon if you’re shy. Remember to reblog if you like it ❤

#loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #marvel x reader #loki imagine #female reader #public #loki odison x reader #my stories #mcu fanfiction #marvel fic #smut

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Jealous | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Your mission is to get your boyfriend jealous. What better way to do this by fawning over Stray Kids?

Genre: slight nfsw? Idk its kinda hot? And female reader insert.

A/N: inspired by my convos with @seraplantery and @chaoticdeobi Kevin would be about me thirsting over Chan. Also idk what I wrote im sorry TT > TT

-----

Jealousy had never been in Kevin Moon’s vocabulary. And you were damn certain it would never be.

That doesn’t mean you never try pushing his buttons every time you can, though.

“How can he be so hot?” You mutter to yourself, loud enough that it reaches your boyfriend’s ears. It’s a late lazy Sunday afternoon and you two are taking this time to unwind and relax, mentally preparing for the full week of work ahead. While Kevin is busy doodling across his sketchbook like he normally is, you take this time to catch up on the multiple kpop performances you’d missed earlier this year.

And boy, have you missed out.

“Oh my god,” your lips go round as your eyes widen as big as saucers, gaze permanently fixed on the screen giving way to eight hot men dominating the stage with their fiery charisma and strong choreography, “Oh my-- holy shit I think I fell pregnant.”

Kevin’s voice permeates through the hot summer air, “What you watching?”

“Stray Kids,” you say absentmindedly as your eyes follow one particular member’s every moves. While you had fallen out of touch with the kpop world -- and you blame this on the concept of having a job and actually now going through adult life like anyone should be -- that doesn’t mean that you don’t get your phases, especially with one of your favourite groups you’ve been following since their debut.

“Stray Kids?”

“Yeah, jesus christ Kev-- Chan’s arms are to die for.”

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been so vocal about admiring other men if it’s not for your silent experiment of whether Kevin Moon will finally bite at the bait jiggling before his face. He’d be an idiot not to.

But considering he is never even aware when other men look at you, you doubt that this time is going to be different. So you continue on:

“He’s not even my type of guy you know? I usually go for the tall skinny ones but somehow--he’s just so charismatic onstage. And did I tell you he’s Australian? I mean I’m not fond of Aussie accents but I don’t know I find it really sexy on him--”

“Woah Y/N, look at you. Talking as if you don’t have a boyfriend,” sarcasm drips from Kevin’s alto, causing your head to slowly turn with surprise, an eyebrow arching slowly at the way he seems hunched and rigid over his blank piece of paper, pen held so tightly in his grip it might snap in two.

“Kevin,” you draw out slowly as you try to hide your grin, “is that...jealousy I hear?”

He scoffs, “I don’t get jealous."

"Sure could've proved me wrong."

Reverting your attention back to the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Bang Chan's smile, you sighed in bliss, "his abs, though."

There is silence from Kevin's part, causing your lips to tilt into a small smirk of victory as you click on the next video that follows. You know him all too well that you assume he will probably sulk for the next hour that follows, and you're content with that, considering that you're not at fault.

You're too engrossed in your video that you barely realize that a shadow hangs behind your shoulder, before an arm shoots out to close your laptop.

You whip around with a scowl, "hey! What--"

But no sooner are you protesting that you feel Kevin's arms haul you up, turning so quickly you can barely register anything but the soft mattress welcoming your figure as you are plopped onto it, Kevin's frame hovering over yours. His face is all but amused.

Laughter bubbles up your throat, "what the --"

It cuts off into a gasp upon feeling his arms hooking around the back of your thighs to pull you closer, lips mere inches above yours and dark orbs gazing down at you with a thunderous depth. It halts any further comment you are about to make, takes your breath away.

Something warm coils within your stomach.

You are a little breathless when you say, "y-yes?"

"You want me to be jealous?" His lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing down at you while fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch igniting a series of sparks in his wake, "I'll show you jealous."

And then he's kissing you. Hard mouth on yours, intense. Demanding.

That's not the Kevin you know but somehow desire pools through you. He's never been this...aggressive.

He is holding your frame against his, fingers so firm and pressing on the back of your thighs before slowly slipping up to cup your ass. You gasp in response, hands automatically lifting to grab his shoulders only for his to grab them instead and pin them down by your face. His head tilts, lips moving to your rhythm and dominating your tongue the moment you gasp into his mouth.

The softest grunts rumbles up his throat when your hips buck up on instinct. He murmurs against your mouth, "not so chatty now, are we?"

"I--"

And then his mouth is latching onto your jaw, peppering a trail of warm kisses that makes your heart beat twice as hard, your body writhing with the delicious sensation of wanting him. He devours your neck, growling with satisfaction when he urges your fingers down onto the mattress to stop any attempts of escape. That's hot.

You're practically seeing stars at this point, the sounds of his soft suckling evocating a sensation of heat deep within your belly that your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord to pull him closer. And the moment his firm length presses onto your heat, he lets out a moan that has you trembling.

"If I knew how you'd react--" you stop to moan softly as he grinds his hips into yours. Lord, "I would've done it more often."

"What, that's your kink?" His breath ghosts over your skin at your collarbone now. You struggle against him wanting nothing more than to run your hands through his glossy raven locks and to scratch your nails down his back. But his fingers squeeze firmly nibbling at the skin of your shoulder, "you like seeing me jealous?"

"Hm, I won't say the contrary," you breathe out.

Ensuring that one of his hands cage your wrists together, his other slips down to trace your neck, the dip of your breasts, ghosting over your side before trickling down the inner side of your thigh. You take a shaky inhale. Waiting.

He's looking at you now, gauging every reaction that you gift him with like you're a fascination he can't quite make out and the intensity makes you squirm.

Slowly, oh so slowly that it makes your toes curl, Kevin starts a slow, sensual path of kisses down the middle of your chest and air gets stuck in your throat the more you watch him, practically holding back a whimper with every searing touch he imprints upon your skin.

He kisses down your navel, nipping and biting as he does while his heated breaths send waves of heat up your spine. At some point he releases your hands to grasp your waist and they instantly tangle in his hair, emitting a grunt from the said man.

He continues his sensual search using his mouth, hot breath fanning against your skin down the sides of your thighs, landing on final peck to your knee, before rearing back up to hover above your pelvis and finally tilting his face up to yours.

And that makes your breath catch in your throat. For in Kevin's eyes you read the dark desire, the craving he holds for you, the longing.

Your heart jolts to a stop. You swear you stop breathing as your gazes lock.

A beat passes. You swallow hard. Suddenly vulnerable under his hooded stare.

Then, before your brain can scramble for coherence, the raven-haired man leans over. He presses a kiss.

Right on your sex.

A sound between a mewl and a whimper escapes your lips.

You gape at him. He smirks back, thoroughly satisfied.

Slowly, he hoists up until his lips hover yours once more and at this point, you're pretty sure you're dead. What with the speed of your heart rate practically vaulting out of your chest.

"Well," he murmurs while one of his hands keep tracing up and down your side, "I guess I can leave you to ogle at your kpop boys--"

His words are interrupted by you shooting out to grab his t-shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. And oh, does he kiss back like a starved man, grunting and growling as your fingers tangle up in his locks to pull him even closer as your teeth sink upon his bottom lip. He gasps.

You pull away slowly then --merely coming up for air -- and gaze into his dark, bottomless orbs, "the only one I'm gonna ogle tonight is you."

His breath halts for a minute. He stares at you, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

And then, a crooked grin spreads across his face.

"I like the sound of that."

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sleepdeprivedsloth · 3 years

Text

In the Dead of Night

[MHA - Midoriya, Bakugou]

summary: Not wanting to return to a nightmare, Bakugou spends the night alone in the common area. That is, until Midoriya finds him and tries to get his old friend to open up with an effective technique from their childhood. (platonic BakuDeku tickle fic)

potential warnings: swearing, tickling

words: 1.5 k

a/n: ahhh my first fic!! …kinda hoping no one sees this but yeah imma post it anyways haha. hopefully whoever ends up reading this will enjoy it! happy national tickle day guys :D

Bakugou stared blankly out of one of the windows in the common area, gazing into the empty void that was the night sky. He rarely ever was awake during the dead of night, but yet here he was. Sleeplessly seated on the couch, long past the time his classmates all retired to their dorms.

He would much rather be asleep, heaven knew he needed the rest, but he was not going to risk returning to his nightmare. The experience felt more like he actually relived the sludge monster incident rather than only a dream. He could never willingly go back to that.

His mind being in its own world, Bakugou didn’t quite catch the faint sound of footsteps that grew closer. He vaguely recognized the familiar noises of the refrigerator door opening and closing before he was brought back from his daze by a hand offering him a bottle of water in front of his eyes.

Bakugou looked up and spotted no other than Izuku freaking Midoriya. He felt his facial features try to form a glare out of a force of habit, but his body was too exhausted to actually comply. Reluctantly, he grabbed the water bottle and took a sip as the green-haired boy wordlessly sat on the opposite end of the couch.

Midoriya, whose brain was still in the waking-up process, had just been awakened a few moments ago with his throat strongly craving for some cold water. Maybe it was due to the fact that his mind was still a bit clouded with sleep, or that the two boys had been sitting in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Midoriya actually broke the silence and spoke up.

“What are you doing up at such a late hour?” he asked, turning slightly in his seat so that he could study Bakugou’s reactions. Midoriya didn’t know what he expected as a response, probably a snarky reply or just outright rage, but what he received definitely shocked him.

Bakugou completely ignored him and avoided any chance of eye contact by staring straight ahead. It was as if he didn’t know that his classmate was sitting not even three feet away from him. Midoriya immediately became more attentive and alert, his Kacchan Radar going off like crazy. Bakugou never missed an opportunity to pick a fight with or insult anyone, especially Midoriya.

To his credit, Midoriya took a moment to consider his options. He could go interrogation mode on Bakugou, but he doubted that the blonde would actually open up to him like that. Maybe he could just sit there in silence until Bakugou willingly chose to talk to him, but that could honestly take days. Of course, he could go back to his dorm and leave Bakugou alone, which was probably the option that his classmate would have wanted him to choose, but when was Midoriya even known for actually pleasing Bakugou?

Suddenly Midoriya remembered a technique that had never failed him back when he and Bakugou were younger. A method that they had both been sworn to secrecy about, and hadn’t been used in years.

“Why are you down here so late, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked again, grinning slightly, this time punctuating the other’s name with a poke to his side.

Bakugou let out a quiet yelp, obviously not expecting a small tingling sensation to suddenly shoot through his entire body. He internally cursed himself for showing a reaction and flinching away from the touch.

Still awaiting a response, Midoriya dared to poke again, but before his finger could come in contact with the boy’s body, Bakugou abruptly brought himself to his feet and made a move to leave the common area.

Midoriya quickly and quietly followed suit, walking up behind his unsuspecting classmate. He tasered his index and middle fingers into both of Bakugou’s sides, latching onto them and relentlessly digging in. “C’mon Kacchan, talk to me!”

Bakugou had to squeeze his eyes shut and cover his mouth with one hand to prevent himself from making any noises that could potentially wake up his classmates. He desperately tried to fight off Midoriya’s fingers with his other hand (emphasis on “tried”), but he was too tired physically and mentally to actually get away.

With the advantage of the surprise attack on his side, Midoriya was able to keep the minimally thrashing Bakugou in his grasp. Being the teasing shit that he is, Midoriya taunted, “I bet you wanna laugh, huh Kacchan? Go on, you’ll feel better if you just let it out.”

“N-no I w-won’t!” Bakugou argued from behind his hand, struggling to keep the laughter building up inside of his throat under control. “If we w-weren’t in the dorms right now I would not he-hesitate to blast your ass into nehext week.”

Midoriya gave a playful, over-dramatic gasp. “Did the Kacchan just giggle?” He moved his hands up to Bakugou’s ribs and started scribbling his fingers against them, causing the boy’s weak wall of defense to come crumbling down. As Bakugou’s little laughs started leaking out, Midoriya continued wiggling along the sensitive bones and drilling into the grooves between them. “I am now officially addicted, I must hear mor-”

“Hehehaha Deheheku quirk! Quhuhuhuirk!”

Midoriya immediately recognized the meaning of the word and stopped his tickling, letting his own arms drop to his sides. He watched as Bakugou bent over, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, trying to regain his self-control.

Meanwhile, Midoriya’s head began to flood with memories from his childhood, when the two boys had tickle fights almost on a daily basis. To prevent one of them from pushing the other past their limits, they had decided to use “quirk” as some sort of safeword. Midoriya was a bit surprised that he had immediately understood Bakugou’s intended context of the word, considering that it hadn’t been used for what felt like forever.

A soft, sentimental smile crossed Midoriya's face as he caught a glimpse of Bakugou's face for the first time since tickling him. The blonde’s lips were brought upwards in a reluctant smile and a light blush, most likely from embarrassment, dusted his cheeks. If only Midoriya had a camera to capture the rare moment.

“Did it really tickle so much that you had to call “quirk?”” Midoriya questioned, genuinely curious if he had gone too far.

Being somewhat in control of his own body again, Bakugou stood to his full height and faced his former best friend. If Midoriya noticed that his arms were still wrapped around and protecting his ribs, he didn’t say anything. “Of course it wasn’t that bad, dumbass. I-” Bakugou paused for a moment before looking away from Midoriya and continuing in a whispered voice. “I just didn’t want to risk making too much noise and waking anyone up and…”

He didn’t have to finish his thought for Midoriya to catch on to what he meant. He easily realized that Bakugou didn’t want any of their classmates to find out that he’s ticklish, which was understandable.

Midoriya nodded, showing Bakugou that he didn’t need to further explain. They stood in silence for a moment before the greenette chose to speak up again. “So why are you down here so late at night instead of sleeping in your dorm?”

Bakugou’s body visibly stiffened as he quickly cast his gaze towards the floor. If he hadn’t been exhausted beyond belief and still recovering from those nimble fingers that definitely did not tickle him, he probably would have told Midoriya to screw off and mind his own business. But instead, he answered, “If you really must know, shitty Deku, I had a dream about the damn sludge villain. I didn’t wanna deal with that shit again, so I just came down here to wait out until morning.”

Midoriya knew from experience that Bakugou didn’t want comforting words or pity. That would only make him feel even more vulnerable than he already was, and that wasn’t Midoriya’s intention. So instead, he simply replied in an indifferent tone, “Oh, alright then. Mind if I wait out here too then?”

Not waiting for an answer, Midoriya walked back to the couch and sat back down, spreading out comfortably but still leaving more than enough room for Bakugou. The last thing he wanted was for his former childhood best friend to have to recover from a nightmare alone. But he would never say it out loud, for Bakugou’s sake.

Two minutes passed before Bakugou inevitably decided to walk over and take the seat next to the other boy. Midoriya looked over and caught his classmate’s eye, nodding slightly to him with a small smile before turning back to gaze outside of the window.

Having gone from childhood best friends, to bully and victim, to rivals, to… wherever their relationship stood now, the two boys shared a strong bond that neither of them knew how to describe. But just being in each others’ presence in the dead of night, enjoying the silence between them, was comforting.

However, the pair would definitely not be feeling so relaxed if they hadn’t failed to notice a certain pink-haired alien queen that managed to capture a short, incriminating video before excitedly running off back to her dorm only a few mere moments ago.

a/n: thanks for reading, and i hope you guys liked it! i’m still working on that fandom list but yeah MHA will definitely be on there lol. i’ll try to update again soon but until then have a great life y’all!!

#bnha #bnha tickle #mha #mha tickle #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #kacchan #izuku midoriya #midoriya #deku #ler!midoriya #lee!bakugou #ticklish!bakugou #bakudeku #platonic #tickling #tickle fic

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