#because all my mind can do is spin in tiny circles. never push any further. no depth of thought | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dazaisgem · 3 years

Text

7 Minutes In Heaven - Yuji Itadori

Oh, God.

Initially, this was never going to be anything more than a mere compromise for your idiotic roommate. You had not anticipated this. No. No way in hell were you ever prepared to be sitting in a dim classroom with a crowd of attractive individuals who most likely had a few looses screw, nut jobs in the kindest form possible. An oddity is intriguing and enjoyable in your experience. Excluding your buddy, she takes weird to a whole different level. Weirdness is written all over her punchable face, only for it to fall off and be replaced by a more accurate term, and that title being; sexy bimbo. Indeed your friend Kiyomi was a sexy bimbo. She acts out on pure self-satisfaction and can not recognize a squid from an octopus. Moreover, that sexy bimbo urged you to get in an unoccupied (of any staff) classroom, with a group of hotties huddled in a corner playing seven minutes in heaven.

Hot men and women left and right, as Kiyomi, pushed you into the crowd of turn-ons in what seems to be a physics class. Now sitting next to a green-haired girl, who appeared to be attempting to conclude where it all went south and how the bloody hell she was in the position she currently was in, sitting next to two horndogs as they exchanged salvias and prodded their way into each others mouth, playing cat and mouse with their tongues, while gripping furiously onto each other, she grimaced pushing up her glasses. Kill me now, she thought before scooting away. You really could relate to her. Those two were either extremely carefree or drunk. Or just horny.

People who decided that participating in the game seven minutes in heaven was too beneath their caliber were sitting at the empty desks drinking away whisky, wine, and beer that they acquired from who knows where. A brunette and a blonde sitting opposite of the eye-pleasing group rolled up their joints, laughing away at shallow jokes that were not in the least bit humorous. Instead, they seemed to piss you off, but you made no effort to express it. Alternatively, you turned your back to them, mumbling incoherent words of distaste in their dull choice of humor. Although maybe it was the weed affecting them, no, you doubt it. A strong voice forced your attention away from the nobodies,

"Alright, alright! We're going to start this party, so whoever's joining, get your asses over here!" A brunette shouted-you couldn't entirely distinguish her hair between being a brunette or an orange head due to lights being off- grabbing the attention of all those in the classroom.

Shifting a bit further into the group, looking around in anticipation, because, to be frank, you've never played seven minutes in heaven. Of course, you know of the rules, but you've only ever seen this game in movies that solely perform it to enter the top ten on Netflix by securing points with horny teenagers. So to be gathered in a circle with extremely breathtaking individuals, have your heart thrashing at an accelerated, erratic pace.

Does my breath smell good? Oh, God, where the hell is Kiyomi!?

Glancing around in search of your friend, you choke on your spit when you see her topping a guy while she whispers sweet nothings into his ear as he leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down the line of her sharp jaw. Sporting a Chester grin as she makes eye contact with you, she slowly sticks out her tongue and licks over his collarbone, leaving a path of hot wet spittle while maintaining her gaze with yours. As strands of her luxurious coal-colored hair slip over her pale skin, she skims her palms up his neck, entangling her fingers within his rosy locks, she bites down.

Holy Fuck.

Rubbing your legs together in need of some sort of friction to ease the tingling sensation within your thighs, you hastily turn away as your cheeks are a stain of an embarrassing hue of red. If you had stared any longer, losing yourself in those gorgeous emerald orbs of hers, you would faint.

Dammit, Kiyomi, why did you have to be a sexy ass bimbo!

The clatter of a glass bottle spinning grabs your attentiveness as you hear howls of encouragement meant for a man named Itadori. Cause of Kiyomi's erotic play, you didn't realize the game had already begun, utterly distracted by her lewd antics.

The bottle seemed to whirl endlessly. As everyone pushed further into the circle, clenching fists in anticipation, all but one, that is. A dark-haired man sat still, his back a little hunched over as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

"It's stopping its stopping," a boy shouted,

"We know Itadori, you idiot. You can shut up.'' The same orange head who started the game jabbed the boy named Itadori in the ribs. Earning a yelp of pain from the boy, pouting his lips, he murmured,

"Why are you so rude Kugasaki,"

"What was that!?"

The coke-a-cola bottle finely was nearing its end. As it slowed down, passing by several people before stopping right in front of you. The red lid of the bottle facing you, as everyone seemed to stop their chatter and stare at you,

oh, God.

"Itadori! Go in the closet with her!" Kugasaki said, pointing her slim finger at you as Itadori and the others continued their gawking. Unsure of who exactly you were.

"Hey," Itadori said, "What's your name?" peering directly at you with the most wholesome expression, he sat silently awaiting your response.

"(y/n) (l/n)," you said,

"Oh, I know you! Your friends with Orihara, yeah yeah, I know you!"

"You know Kiyomi?"

"Yeah, she slept with my brother Sukuna. They're making out right over there." he pointed to where Kiyomi and his brother were.

Of course, Kiyomi slept with his brother.

"Stop with the chit-chat! And go in the damn closet already."

Shoving Itadori continuously to stand up, Kugasaki grinned when he finally stood up with hurried, okays. She then leaned over to you.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

"You gonna' go in the closet or what?" she said,

"Yeah, I'm going to go." Hurriedly pulling yourself up, you stood a bit, hesitant of where to go until Itadori aimed his finger towards the closet with a gentle smile before sauntering to the cabinet, with you moving quickly after.

A go' get em' girl! Shouted by Kiyomi was heard as she observed you and the boy waltzing into the depths of darkness, knowing the quite obvious outcome. Sensual energy seeping through the shut cracks.

***

The initial thought that befell upon you was that the closet was exceedingly tiny, leaving little to no room for a thing we all appreciate termed; personal space. Yeah, your bodies flushed together as Itadoris hands fluttered behind the small of your back. Your faces centimeters apart that you could inhale the sweet fragrance of honey. Most likely from a candy, he had been eating, the crampiness leaving no leeway for decisions as you stare deeply into each other's eyes.

It was as if there were an invisible string that only brought your faces closer and closer, and no matter how much you wanted to resist, this magical cord only tugged harder as his breath fanned above yours.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," he murmured, his scent overriding all of your senses, and you felt as if your knees were to buckle any moment from the waves you felt throughout your entire body. He had only said something so vague as to be nameless, and you were about ready to bend over for a guy whom you had just met. Pitiful, embarrassing, perhaps, so it was. But you couldn't ignore what your body wanted, and it was to be all over his. It wanted to be on top of him, riding him, leisurely and sensually, as beads of sweat would roll down your burning face, contorting as his length skillfully hit that glorious point that had black and white invading your vision. Pitiful indeed.

"But, what if I said that I wanted to...

He let out an unsteady breath. You felt as though you were on the verge of passing out,

God, could this room get any hotter?

"So you wouldn't mind if I did this?" his voice was hardly below a whisper, and his hand, which had been hovering over the small of your back, was now pressed firmly, pushing you remarkably closer than you both already were.

You could feel your heart hammering in your ears and chest. You couldn't help but wonder if Itadori was feeling the same way. If he, too, felt this unyielding string of lustful desires, but you couldn't tell.

Perhaps that was for the best.

The unholy images rushing within his mind have him internally groaning. It was dark, and he could feel your round breasts squished against his chest, as his clammy grip only drove you further towards him. You smelt of ginger. Spicy and sweet, it was a killer combination that had his little bit of restraint withering away. He knew that the point of the game was to be making out right now. But he couldn't allow himself to make out with a girl who probably didn't even want to be there in the first place. But when your intoxicating smell fills him to the brim and your sweet voice sends shivers down his spine, he discovers himself drifting in the direction of those delicate lips. A taste, a feel, he wants it-he needs it.

"I won't mind," you whisper.

If you hadn't said that, maybe he wouldn't wildly have pushed you harshly against the closet wall. Perhaps he wouldn't have swallowed up your yelp of surprise with a sloppy kiss. But you did. You smelled so good, you tasted so sweet, and most of all, you smacked back with just as much greed.

Tongues lapping and twirling in an unsynchronized rhythm as his hands strayed from your back to clutching your waist. While you were holding onto his neck, occasionally roughly tugging at his pink hair, you let out a muffled moan. This kiss was nowhere near as gentle as you imagined it would be. No. It was broken and careless. Hot and messy. But it was perfect. His mouth against yours. The way your heads would shift to the side in an attempt to deepen into each other's mouths.

Nothing had ever tasted more pleasing than this.

"Alright, times up!" the voice of Kugasaki broke you and Itadori out of your sensual daze.

Slowly separating, a string of salvia connecting you and him. His light brown eyes bore into your (e/c) ones. Deep breaths-and you're sure he could hear your thrashing heart- the only thing heard in the tiny closet. Still hanging onto each other, he cracked a smile.

"That-that was, it was great," he breathed out,

"Yeah," your voice was fragile, airy, and so damn hot. So sexy it had Itadori leaning down to capture your lips in another ecstatic kiss. That is, until the door slammed open with Kiyomi being in the doorway, a grin so grand and mischievous, it would put the joker to shame. Yes, the joker would shrivel in fear in the face of Kiyomi Orihara, for she was always seeking (or creating) havoc to satisfy the big clown in her. And as she would do those deeds, her broad clown face constantly unraveled itself. And as she stood in the pathway to enter the cabinet. That terrifying clown face was painted as clear as day on her beautifully punchable face.

"Hey Itadori, your brother Sukuna thinks it’s about time to head home, and since he is your ride and I (y/n)'s, it seemed appropriate for me to let you both know we're heading home.”

#itadori x reader #itadori fluff #itadori x y/n #yuuji x you #yuji itadori #7 minutes in heaven #jujutsu kaisen

59 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

So as part of my push to fill the world with soft fluff while we all need it, @sparkkeyper requested Aziraphale warming up a cold Crowley. And, well, things got a little out of hand with this bit of hurt/comfort. Also fills the @bingokisses prompt for “Brush of Lips, Almost-There Kiss/Bridal Carry” so that’s exciting!

Not clearly established, but this fic is just-barely-pre Arrangement.

“If that’s the way you feel,” Aziraphale said, hand on the door to his one-room hut, “then I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

“Good! Maybe I can find one who isn’t a self-righteous prick.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the apology dripped with sarcasm, “that I choose not to blindly trust a devious…manipulative…snake.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Crowley sucked in a breath, tasting a hint of frost in the late-autumn air. “Fine,” he growled, turning away. He’d have to walk through the night to get back to London, but at just that moment he felt angry enough to march all the way to China and back. “Good riddance,” he snapped from the gate around the little garden, but Aziraphale had already shut the door.

“Call me a snake,” Crowley grumbled, pulling the thick black pelt more tightly over his shoulders. He’d thought the wilderness look – loose hair, black fur wrap, boiled leather jerkin belted over his tunic like armor – would make him look intimidating and cool. But as the temperatures dropped with the sunset, he really just wished for a good wool cloak.

“I’m not the one who’s manipulative and…whatever else he said.” The wind shifted, slapping across his face, sending his hair spinning behind him. “Cold-blooded. I’m not cold-blooded.”

He snapped his fingers, summoning a cloak, but the wind immediately ripped it out of his hands. It got caught on a tree branch, just out of reach. “Ah, never mind. Just slow me down anyway.”

Stuffing his hands into his armpits, Crowley marched deeper into the woods. Just follow the path west to the little creek, follow that out of the forest, main road was on the other side. Quickest route to London.

As the last light faded from the sky, the snowflakes began to fall.

“Coordinate our activities – of course we can’t coordinate, you fool, we’re doing opposite tasks.”

Aziraphale waved his fingers at the fire, making it burn just a touch brighter, and continued angrily chopping vegetables to drop into the pot of water. “And I certainly can’t just – just tell you what Heaven’s plans are for the north, or for the Holy Roman Empire, or for…for…blast!”

He glowered at the deep cut on his thumb and quickly healed it, an almost blinding burst of holy power. Well, that was probably enough for soup, anyway.

“All I’m trying to say, you foolish creature,” he grumbled, lifting the pot to nestle against the hot stones that circled his hearth, “is that we can’t talk…business when we meet. Is that so hard? Can you not get that one idea in your head?”

The shutters rattled in the wind, one breaking open to crack angrily against the wall. Aziraphale hurried over to push it shut, pausing to look across the dark fields to the woods beyond. Already a mix of snow and freezing rain had turned everything to a muddy slush.

Crowley would be fine. Crowley always found a way to be fine, and more often than not that way involved finagling himself into some comfortable circle where dozens of humans happily did his bidding. And when he couldn’t find that, he came to Aziraphale.

Well. Aziraphale would not – would not be duped into doing Crowley’s work for him.

“Enjoy getting yourself out of this mess,” Aziraphale said, pushing the shutter closed.

Bracing himself against a tree, Crowley tried to pull the back of his tunic up to protect his neck. Tiny spears of ice had assaulted it for hours, and he could feel the cold drops worming their way down his spine, soaking into his undertunic. His boots were drenched through, squishing a little with every step.

“Bloody creek,” he grumbled, searching desperately through the ceaseless fall of ice and snow. He should have passed it ages ago. He should be nearly out of the woods, and instead here he was, surrounded by mounds of wet, icy snow as deep as his ankles.

Everything looked strange. Everything looked different. Every rock transformed into something unfamiliar, every tree a shapeless mass of white. He was…

Crowley was lost.

“It’s fine,” he said as the wind shifted and the tree dropped another freezing glob of ice into his hair to ooze down his neck. “It’s bloody fine.” He pushed away from the tree and snapped his fingers, trying to summon a fire.

Nothing.

“Oh, for Sssatan’s sssake!” He pictured a cloak again. Nothing. A windbreak. A pile of blankets. A lantern.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

With each failed miracle, Crowley felt the panic rise further, which was stupid. The only reason he couldn’t perform them was because he was panicking, so the thing to do was to stop panicking.

Useless, Aziraphale had called him. I don’t know what’s worse, that you come to me to help you with every little thing, or that you do everything in your power to get out of even thinking about working.

No, wait. Aziraphale hadn’t said that, not out loud. But the look in his eyes…it was obvious how he felt. Why wouldn’t he? It was true enough.

“Stop that, stop that!” He marched on through the forest. West. Just keep going west, London had to be somewhere around here. “It’s not my fault. Pointless assignments, impossible tasks, and you, you running around undoing everything I do – it’s not my fault I can’t get anything done!”

Useless. Failure. Worthless snake.

Had that been Aziraphale? Or Hastur? Or one of the other demons? They all thought the same, didn’t they? They were all right, weren’t they?

“No!” He waved his arms, visualizing a clear path through the slush.

Instead, he slipped on an icy patch and fell, chin cracking against the ground, one arm shoving into a particularly deep mound, filling his sleeve with snow.

“Fuck, fuck.” He scrambled to get purchase, to push himself up, wriggling around on his stomach like—

Like a snake.

“I’m not,” he whispered, but without conviction. “I’m not.”

Aziraphale tried to keep himself busy. Cooking, preparing herbs, copying pages out of texts, bits of wisdom that would be carefully left on the right desk at the right time, according to Heaven’s guidance.

He never quite knew when he’d be called to take care of something, never quite knew when Gabriel would announce he was coming down for an inspection. So Aziraphale always had to be ready, always had to look busy. Always had to be sure he was where he was supposed to be.

Maybe Crowley didn’t have to worry about that. Maybe Crowley didn’t have superiors checking in at random intervals, making sure he really had traveled to York, or Venice, or Kiev, or wherever else a bit of Holy assistance was needed. Maybe Crowley’s superiors actually trusted him to get the work done without…(Aziraphale pressed his eyes shut, carefully removing any accusations of micromanagement to the deepest depths of his subconscious)…without their careful direction and helpful input, but that wasn’t the case with Aziraphale.

He sighed and put the manuscript pages back on the bench. It was far too dark for a human to be doing copy work, and rather too dark for an angel. Perhaps he could take a break, just for a few minutes.

It’s always another excuse with you, Crowley had shouted. Well. Not shouted, but the words had hit him just the same.

But they weren’t excuses, they were – a thousand perfectly valid reasons why he couldn’t…couldn’t let Crowley interfere with his work, and yes perhaps some of them contradicted each other, but that wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault and…

“No, stop that.” He rose to his feet. Needed to keep busy. “A bit more water from the well. Better to be prepared.” The villagers often came up, looking for medicines, for advice, for a bit of food more varied than their usual diet (Aziraphale could miracle up fresh spices and vegetables any time of year, and that wasn’t…entirely cheating). Bad weather usually kept them away, but likely it would all clear up by morning.

He opened the door.

The wind that blasted Aziraphale’s face sent him staggering back. A fistful of mixed snow and rain hit him in the face, somehow colder than ice. By now, he ground was covered almost knee-deep in some places, and he could barely see the fence from where he stood, never mind the well.

“Oh…”

But, surely, Crowley had made it back to London by now.

Surely.

He had to keep moving.

Crowley huddled below a tree, knees pulled up to his chest, fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, trying to shield himself from the weather.

He shivered so hard his teeth nearly cracked, his ribs ached, and he felt sick to his stomach. Stupid mammal bodies, weren’t they supposed to retain heat?

He couldn’t feel his toes. The boots were packed with snow from trying to push through drifts. He couldn’t feel his fingers. He moved them back inside the pelt wrap again, pressing them into his already-wet tunic. The boiled leather jerkin clung to him like…well, like only leather could, getting stiff where he needed it to flex, getting soft where he needed it to stay rigid. Bloody useless.

Clenching his eyes tight, Crowley braced against another blast of wind, cutting through his layers like a dagger. What was the point of all this clothing if it didn’t help?

Some part of his mind kept reminding him to move. Not time to burrow yet, not time to conserve energy. Movement would create heat, warm him up.

No it won’t, argued the part of his mind that would never not be a snake. Moving uses heat. Stay. Conserve. Burrow down and wait for the sun.

“D-d-d-doesn’t matter,” Crowley groaned. “N-n-nowhere to go.”

His joints locked up, skin trying to pull itself away from the damp clothing pressed against it. He was tired. Mammal and serpent, both so tired.

No. He had to keep moving.

Crowley wasn’t sure how he managed to get his feet under him, managed to take the first shuffling, stumbling steps.

West. He was supposed to go west. Whichever way west was.

He picked a likely direction and started moving.

Was that hail pounding on the thatch? Or was the rain that strong?

Aziraphale waved the fire stronger, almost enough to over-boil the pots of soup arranged around the outside.

He didn’t really need that much soup. It just. Kept him busy.

The sun rose just as Crowley reached the edge of the woods.

It hurt to lift his head, to shift the muscles that had been hunched and braced against the cold for so long. The brightness of the sky hurt his eyes.

At some point, it had stopped snowing. He didn’t know when, his skin was completely numb. Wasn’t even shivering anymore. It was nice, in a way. Just the comforting darkness all around.

Now even that was gone, but he could look around the endless ocean of…snow was too strong a word, it was really slush…under the blood-red of the sunrise.

He wasn’t lost anymore. The hill, there to the right, the hut on top of it –

That was Aziraphale. He’d gone in a bloody circle.

I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

Fuck.

Aziraphale wouldn’t want to hear it. He’d wonder why Crowley hadn’t just miracled himself to safety, and he didn’t have the strength to explain that he didn’t have the strength. He knew his miracles had failed in the night – that he hadn’t been able to focus. Couldn’t remember exactly why.

Couldn’t really focus now.

Aziraphale wouldn’t want to help. He’d still be angry over the things Crowley said. Still be stuck in his holier-than-though me-versus-you mindset. Probably want to send Crowley away.

But Crowley would never make it to London now. Might not even make it up the hill.

He pushed himself forward.

I can do this, Crowley grumbled at himself. Just need a plan.

Aziraphale would let him in. He just needed a really clever argument to convince the angel first. Tempt him, trick him. Make him think helping Crowley would somehow help himself? No, that wouldn’t work. Maybe threaten to cause trouble in the village? Though he could hardly look capable of it in this state.

He stumbled through the gate – half-open, and held in place by a mound of ice that crunched under his feet. Just a few more steps to the door.

Well. Looked like Crowley would be going with his favorite plan: winging it.

He tried to knock on the door, but his arms had stopped obeying him, his hands wouldn’t budge from where he’d tucked them in his armpits. He tried kicking the door, but the snow and slush piled in a drift almost up to his knees, so he only succeeded in making a wet crunching sound.

The wind shifted again, another volley of ice, and the last of his heat was stripped away.

He was going to discorporate here, literal inches from safety. He was going to wake up in Hell and spend the next decade trying to convince his superiors to give him another body after he’d been so careless with this one. Worthless, stupid snake…

“Aziraphale,” he tried to call, throat too raw to make a sound, his jaw irrevocably clenched. He surged his whole body forward, smashing his shoulder against the door. “Angel! C’n see…smoke…lemme in…”

The door vanished in front of him so quickly, Crowley nearly tumbled through it. Barely managed to wedge his shoulder against the door frame to keep himself upright.

“Oh, my word!”

Blinking the ice out of his eyes, Crowley could see the look of shock and horror on Aziraphale’s face. Knew he wouldn’t want me here.

“G-g-got caught,” he managed, struggling to unclench his jaw. “Sssssstorm.” It was more a puff of steam wrapped around a vowel than a word.

“But – you – that was hours ago!”

“Nrf.” Something was spilling out the door, like a wave of…the opposite of pressure. As if the air was somehow lighter, easier to move in. So close. Just had to convince Aziraphale. “Look. ‘Ngel.”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it.”

“B…” He shook his head, long, slow, dizzy loops as he tried to clear his mind. “Jus’lissen. Yer side…I mean, my side…”

“Don’t start on that now.” There was that stubborn edge to his voice. No point in arguing.

“Fffffine.” Another white puff filled the air between them and he tried to turn, one shuffling step at a time. He was still upright, that had to be good, maybe he could make it to the village before—

“No, you ridiculous—! Get in.”

“Wah…?”

Aziraphale grabbed the back of his fur wrap and hauled him through the door, kicking it shut behind him.

Something prickled across Crowley’s skin. It must be the heat, but he couldn’t feel it. Not really. The blinding light of the morning sun reflecting off the white landscape had been replaced with the cozy darkness of a shuttered hut, fire burning low in the hearth at the center. Oil lamps burnt here and there, giving a cheerful glow that reflected off the brass cookware, the earthenware pots tucked close to the fire, then bench covered in parchment, the neat white linen of the bed.

Then Crowley did feel something: the ice trapped in layers of clothing melting, sliding down, soaking further into his tunic. He bit back a groan.

“Come along, move faster.” One hand still clutching his furs, the other pressed into the small of Crowley’s back, propelling him forward.

“I c’n walk,” Crowley griped, but before he could even finish forming the words, he was in front of the fire, being pushed firmly down to sit on the floor.

“Yes, I’m sure you can, you always make such a display of it.” Aziraphale crouched beside him, brow furrowed. “Look at you. Look at your hair.”

“S’wrong wi’m’hair?” Aziraphale reached behind Crowley’s ear and pulled out an almost fist-sized lump of snow. “Oh. Nice trick.”

“Don’t be…Crowley, this is serious!” He grabbed Crowley’s chin in both his hands, ran thumbs across his cheeks, then pressed a palm to his forehead. “You’re too cold.” Cupped his hands around Crowley’s ears. “Not frozen, at least, but…couldn’t you at least wear a hood?”

“Nah. M’hair’s too good.” He tried to toss his head, despite Aziraphale’s grip, and he heard the splat of more snow working loose. “Lost it. Cloak. Wind.”

“And you didn’t just – just miracle yourself to safety?”

“Nrrrrrrgh.” Crowley bent his head, ready for the recriminations. He could stand them. Probably. Long as he didn’t have to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale ran his hands across the thick pelt, scraping through melting snow, which still clung thick enough to turn it white. “My dear fellow,” he said, voice strangely soft. “If you were in trouble, you should have…have come back.”

Crowley’s head jerked up, searching for Aziraphale’s face. It was hard to focus but, yes, his eyes, not angry. Something else.

“Didn’think…y’wanted me…”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale shut his eyes for a moment, but his fingers sprang into action, twisting the furs free to drop in a pile behind the demon.

“Wha…Angel, what’re you…”

“Isn’t it obvious? Trying to warm you up.” He grabbed the heavy pelt with one hand and tossed it aside, as easily as if it were made of cotton. “It’s hard enough to heal a demon with holy power in the best of times, but if you’re too numb to even tell me if it hurts…”

“M’not.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” His hand rested on Crowley’s elbow, tracing it up to where one hand tucked into his armpit. Aziraphale tugged, but the hand didn’t come loose. “Crowley, please. We don’t have time for you to be petty.”

“S’nice coming from you,” he grumbled, and tried to shift his arms. “Can’t. Too cold.”

Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s arms, rocking him in place, and made a noise of dismay. “Your clothes are soaked through! Of course, all that walking.” He turned to Crowley’s boots, started tugging them off. “You’ll be lucky if you still have feet under here.”

“M’fine. M’a snake. Don’ need feet.”

“You’re delirious.” Aziraphale jerked the first boot off Crowley’s foot, water and ice pouring out of it. He tugged off the wool wrapped around Crowley’s foot and ankle and inspected his toes. “Not black, at least. I think you’ll be fine. Can you feel this?” He breathed out heavily.

“Nnnnh.” Was that a little curl of warmth across the back of his foot? Or was he just imagining it? “Not delirious,” he added. “You called me snake. Las’time. Other thing, too. Untrustworthy.”

“Did I?” He started on the other boot. “Well, you can hardly blame me, Crowley, an agent of Hell repeatedly asking me to – to neglect my duties. What am I supposed to think?”

Crowley groaned. He didn’t want to argue. Couldn’t argue. Some of the feeling was returning to him, along the side closest to the fire, but that just made him feel colder. More miserable.

“Look, I know you’re tempting me, Crowley. I don’t know what your goal is, but I’m aware of what’s going on.” The second boot came off, and Aziraphale began unwrapping his foot. “I…I may have been…harsh. Defensive. But I’m just…trying to be cautious. You’re very good at what you do.”

“You think I’m g-good?” Odd, he couldn’t actually feel the grin on his face, but he could hear it in his voice.

“Hmmm, no. Obviously not. Demon and all that. But you are very clever.” He stretched Crowley’s feet out towards the fire, stopping them just shy of the ring of stones. The flames, Crowley noticed, didn’t feel very hot. “There. Let those warm for a moment.”

“You…” Crowley shook his head. Wished he could focus. “C-called me w-w-worthless. Ffffailure.”

“I most certainly did not!” He rested his hands on Crowley’s arms again, but they still wouldn’t relax. “I never said anything of the kind. Why would you even think such a thing?”

“Fine. You th-thought it.” Was he shivering again? Or were his lungs just seizing up?

“No. I didn’t. Truly, Crowley, I have never thought that of you.” He moved behind Crowley, crouching down, wrapping fingers around his narrow waist, tugging him slowly back. Away from the fire. “I have the utmost respect for what you do, even if I disagree with all of it, both your methods and your goals. I cannot deny that you are effective, that you get results even when you hardly do any work at all. I do not think you’re a failure. Or worthless. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

Crowley stared ahead at the fire, which kept flaring up, brighter, redder. Tried to wriggle his toes. One of them stirred a little.

“How is that? Too hot?”

“Nah.” The shivers seemed to have faded, leaving him just tense. Hard to breathe. And move. “Not hot’a’tall. Some’n wrong wi’ your fire.”

Before he knew what was happening, Aziraphale’s arms wrapped fully around Crowley, and pulled the demon back into his lap. He gasped out a protest, even as soft arms crossed over Crowley’s and large hands rubbed at his biceps.

“Just what I was afraid of,” Aziraphale murmured, voice close to his ear. “You’re very, very cold. So cold you don’t realize it.”

“Aziraphale—! I don’t need you to…to…”

“Come, my dear fellow. You know you do. You wouldn’t have come to me otherwise.”

Long, slow movements of Aziraphale’s hands up and down his arms. He could feel the heat of them, of the chest pressed into his back. Better than fire. “M-m-maybe I’m t-tempting you.”

“No.” His grip slid once more to Crowley’s wrists and with a little pressure his hands popped free of his armpits, feeling damp and oddly distant. Aziraphale took one, then the other, giving them a few slow rubs each. “No, I know when someone is…truly in pain. You can’t fake that.” He hooked his chin over Crowley’s shoulder, bringing his fingers closer to blow on them, one hand, then the other. “And as you well know, I won’t turn away anyone in pain.”

“Do I know that?” He was feeling strangely tired. Well. Not strange, all that walking all morning, but it wasn’t the normal exhaustion. It tugged from somewhere deeper.

“Why else would you come here, even though you were angry at me?”

“N-n-nowhere else to g-go.” He leaned back a little, soaking in the warmth. “’Sides. M’not angry. C-can’t stay m-mad’t’you.” The movement of Aziraphale’s hands against Crowley’s slowed, briefly. “Y’r mad’t’me.”

“Am I?”

“Called m-me sssssnake.”

“I…But I always call you…serpent. Foul fiend. All sorts of things.”

“S’different.” He didn’t know how to explain it. How serpent was clever, chaotic Crowley, slithering around, outsmarting his opponents; but snake was stupid, useless Crawly, begging for his life, cowering in fear, hiding from every failure. Aziraphale couldn’t understand. He didn’t have two selves – a true one he tried to project, a wrong one that everyone saw anyway.

But even still. It hurt.

“I see.” One of Aziraphale’s hands dropped to rest against his stomach. “But you aren’t angry? That I sent you away like that?”

“Naaaah. Yer’n’angel. Gotta ssssay th-th-things like that.” Aziraphale still held one hand, thumb rubbing circles on his palm. Crowley wiggled the fingers of the other, and smiled to see them move. “Just…wish you’d trust me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I trust you.” He tried to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand, but his fingers still moved stiffly, like twigs on a frost-covered tree. “I like you.”

Now both of Aziraphale’s hands were at his waist, pressing him back. It was nice. “Do you mean that, Crowley? Do you trust me?”

“Course.” Crowley turned his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and found the angel’s face alarmingly close. His eyes were right there. His lips. Right there. “N-nerrer trusted anyone b’fore. N-not a lotta trust in Hell. Erryone’ll b-b-betray you.” He smiled, or at least he thought about smiling. No telling what expression his face wore. “You, too. You’ll b-betray me. S’fine. Don’ mind. J-j-just hope I see it comin.”

“Crowley…”

They were right there. Crowley thought of leaning forward just a little. See if that heat was in Aziraphale’s lips, too. Drink it in. Warm him from the inside.

“But even so. Yeah. I trust you.”

Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath. “Good.” His hands grabbed at Crowley’s belt and began to unbuckle it, loosening the leather jerkin. “You need to take your clothes off. Now.”

“Oh. Oh.” He dropped a hand to pat Azirphale’s…something…missed entirely, anyway, and landed in the dirt. “Angel’s g-gonna tempt me.”

“Stop that, you ridiculous…” He huffed out his annoyance. “Crowley, your clothing is soaked through and it’s making you colder. Let me help you out of it and into the bed.”

“You g-gonna j-j-join me?” He’d only said it to make Aziraphale uncomfortable, indignant. He really liked those little huffs. Instead, he was only met with silence. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley…you’re always a little cold. Barely produce enough heat even when you aren’t…” He’d unwrapped the soaking leather, and one hand clutched at the hem of Crowley’s tunic. “No, I won’t. Not if it will make you uncomfortable. You can keep your clothes on, too, if you prefer. There are other ways to warm you up.”

“Oh.” He wished he could see Aziraphale’s face. “D-don’t mind. Ssssaid I trust you. Meant it.”

“You…ah…”

“Gonna haf’ta c-c-carry me tho. M’feet’re…” He tried wriggling his toes again, succeeded in flexing his whole foot together. “Do what you gotta. Trust you.”

He hadn’t realized how awful the tunic felt, clinging to his ribs and back, until Aziraphale peeled it off over his head, ran his hands quickly over damp skin. The rest followed soon after, and Crowley felt…not warmer. Lighter. As if some burden had been removed.

Aziraphale slipped on arm under his knees, the other around Crowley’s back, and lifted him easily, carrying him across the little hut to lay him on the bleached-white linens of the bed.

“S’nice,” Crowley murmured, as Aziraphale found more blankets to pile on him. Miracled up? Possibly. Lucky bastard.

“Oh. Ah. Glad it’s comfortable. Don’t really use it myself. Only have it because visitors expect it. Like the chamber pot.” He gave the blankets one more tug, then brushed his fingers across Crowley’s hair. “Is this better?”

“Mmmmh. Sleep?”

“One moment.” A rustle of fabric, and then the bed shifted and another body slid in beside him, tugging him against the soft, warm chest. “Is this better?”

“N-now’m warm.” He ran his fingers across Aziraphale’s back, feeling the way his skin dipped under the pressure, as if Crowley could truly sink into him. “Y-y-you’re n-nice.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue, but his hand didn’t stop rubbing a slow circle across Crowley’s back. “That really is enough of that.”

“No. I m-mean you’re n-nice.” If he wiggled a little, he could rest his head on Aziraphale’s arm. Hmmm, that was good. “Y-you d-didn’t need t-to help me. M’a demon.”

“I told you. I will help anyone. Even you.” A hesitation, and Crowley could swear he felt something brush across his forehead. Maybe his hair. Everything still tingled a little. “Especially you,” Aziraphale said, voice even softer.

“Won’ help me wi’my work,” Crowley grumbled.

“That’s…I can’t…it’s different.” Another hesitation, and now he could feel Aziraphale’s other hand, still running evenly up and down his bicep. “What…did you want me to help you with? I…suppose I…wasn’t really listening.”

“Nrf.” Oh, he could feel himself shivering now, in a distant sort of way. “J-J-Jus’wanna know f’you’re…gonna…cancel out m’next j-job. S’along way t’walk for n-n-nothing.”

“And if I am?”

“I sssstay’n London. Ssssay you th-thwarted me. Sss’all g-good.”

Crowley could hear the rhythm of Aziraphale’s breaths, of his heartbeat, of the hands on his skin. It was all nearly enough to lull him to sleep, even without that glorious heat that surrounded him, reflected back from the blankets. It was the closest he’d ever come, in this body, to that luxurious feeling of basking, gathering the sunlight on his scales.

“You know, Crowley…perhaps we should talk. When you’re better.” His forehead pressed against Crowley’s, and he continued in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry I threw you out. I’m sorry I called you a snake.”

“Ssssss.” They weren’t supposed to say those words. “Can’t ssssay m’sorry for wha’I said,” Crowley muttered. “Umm. Cuz. Fffforgot what it was.” He remembered being hurt. Angry. But the words themselves escaped him. “I was jus’…jus’…”

“I understand.” Another of those funny brushes by his hairline. “Sleep now. I have you.”

Aziraphale’s lips still tingled where they’d brushed Crowley’s forehead.

For a moment, back by the fire, Crowley had been too cold. Too still. Aziraphale had come very close to losing him, and that frightened him more than anything. He couldn’t say way. It was just discorporation, and yet…

I trust you.

One last brush of lips, so gentle it could hardly be called contact. Even still, Crowley sighed in his sleep, pulled a little closer. He was shivering now. That was a good sign.

“I think I’ll trust you, too,” Aziraphale whispered. “I’ve…never trusted anyone before, either. We’ll have to learn together.”

#good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale and crowley #emotional h/c #there was only one bed #hypothermia #snow storm #medieval #crowley is bad with emotions #hurt crowley #protective aziraphale #my writing

245 notes · View notes

itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

Text

Take them, they’re yours

For Ray, the person who is very quickly becoming my partner in crime for all things SaNami related. We did a trade; I wrote this for them, and in return she drew this masterpiece from a scene in ‘amongst the trees’.

I also have to thank them their endless patience as I wrote this and teased them as the word count steadily went up and up. I’m so sorry this took so long.

Let’s play a game (points for those that thought of Saw), there’s a line in here that inspired my very rude SaNami piece I posted recently, can you find the line?

So, it’s been shown time and time again that Sanji has good kenbunshoku haki but not the full extent of it, so please excuse some of the artistic liberties I took.

Summary: If it was between his hands or Nami, it would be Nami, every time, without question. Every. Damn. Time. Rating: T

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

It’d all gone so wrong so quickly.

“There he is! Vinsmoke!”

Instantly Sanji felt his mood flip like a switch, from content to enraged at the use of that name.

It’d been a wonderful day. Nami had agreed to come shopping with him and Chopper. Although he had a feeling Chopper had something to do with that more than him, but that was fine- he’d soak up any attention she gave him. They’d been shopping to do all the chores, such as food shopping and medical supplies, as well as some personal shopping for her. When they’d dropped everything back at the ship, Sanji had taken the bold step to suggest extending their trip out and invited them both to a café and, much to his relief, Nami had accepted.

But all of that came crashing to a halt as one man turned into two and then three, more and more men appearing from behind trees and shrubbery, creating a circle around them.

His eyes zeroed in on the guns some of them were equipped with.

“What the hell did you call me, shithead?” His voice threatening and all attention turned to him as he took a small step forward in front of Nami, Chopper the other side of her doing the same.

As he looked over the large group, he wondered how long they’d been following them and how they’d managed to go undetected.

It was their first day here and Luffy hadn’t even made a ruckus yet, so it was strange how they knew where they were but as he eyed his surroundings, from the large group to their location it started to make sense.

There was only three of them, him, Nami and Chopper, in a tight secluded spot, far away from their ship or the rest of the crew.

This wasn’t by chance.

This was planned.

It was an ambush.

And Sanji had let it happen. Something that could’ve been prevented, quite easily, if he’d been paying attention to his surroundings, instead of the gorgeous woman behind him.

His question was ignored as, what he presumed was the leader, took a step forward and called out, “Take him alive, we can get more money for him that way.”

They weren’t marines or CP9, they didn’t care if he was dead or alive. It looked like they bounty hunters and he knew what they were thinking; he was a prince; he came from wealth and power. Something these people would be able to attain through him.

But they clearly didn’t know anything. Didn’t know that his family would happily see him die before handing over money or technology for his life and it was why he hated that poster so much. There were assumptions that came with his birthname and no matter how notorious he became in his own right he’d never be able to escape them.

“Take the woman too,” one of them added.

And that very title had dragged Nami into his mess.

Again.

“Chopper, take Nami back to the ship.” He wasn’t sure if Chopper was depressed at being overlooked, he was too busy staring the leader down.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” Nami said firmly, tone suggesting there was no room for discussion.

He wondered if she was thinking about Capone’s back on Zou. She hadn’t wanted to leave him then either, but she hadn’t had a choice back then. Now she had a choice, and from her rigid posture and frown, it was clear she wouldn’t be moving. The irony was that they only needed Brook and it’d be a reunion.

“Call the others, we found them!”

At least they weren’t being taken lightly, but that still wasn’t good. It was hard to believe there were even more of them considering the size of the group already.

“Chopper, go to the ship, get whoever’s on board.” The words felt bitter coming from his mouth, but it was no secret they were vastly outnumbered and if they managed to get their grubby hands on Nami, he’d have no choice but to surrender instantly.

Chopper looked like he wanted to argue, stand his ground just like Nami had, but he must’ve done the math; knew they’d come out of this better if there were more of them.

“I’ll be back!” He called, changing into his walking point and sprung between the men with ease, dodging their attempts to stop him.

They didn’t follow after him though, so at least that was one less person to worry about.

“Nami-san, do you have your climatact?” They were back-to-back now, and he chanced a glance over his shoulder to look at her, she looked fierce and determined.

“Of course.” Her hand disappeared down the front of her dress and he quickly averted his gaze because he really didn’t need that sort of distraction right now. He had to be on his game, because as much as he trusted Nami’s strength, he was still responsible for her.

A tension settled over the tiny clearing with both parties hesitant to make the first move, sizing up the other with a critical gaze. It finally shattered when a branch in the woods snapped, and it had the effect of a gunshot through the quiet clearing.

They’d been outnumbered plenty of times before, so they sprung into action just like they had in the past.

A glance over at Nami as he spun to kick someone in the face, and she was more than holding her own. It was a hard trying not to become distracted by her as they fought. She moved with such grace, body in total coordination whilst she twirled the baton between her hands, timing meticulous as the climatact extended and retracted to do the most damage.

But ultimately that was the issue.

Whilst they may have done this in the past, they did it under very different circumstances. They weren’t contained in such a tight space, with only the two of them and the opposition desperate to get one of them to the floor as they were now.

They could only keep them at bay, push them away before someone else was on them trying to pin them down.

There was too many of them to be able to fully take them down without the risk of being overwhelmed.

A quick scan told him they needed to do crowd control and do it now. He couldn’t take off into the air like he normally would, it’d leave Nami on the ground by herself and a flurry of kicks would be reckless in a tight space. If he hit her, even by accident, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

There was no thought process as he flipped into a handstand, moving away from Nami, and spinning on his hands. He ignored the grit and sharp pieces from the floor digging into his hands and instead focused on the people before him. They’d be up after a while, the move not doing enough damage to keep them down, but it’d be enough to buy him and Nami time and stop them being swamped.

Ultimately, his only goal was keeping her safe and their grubby hands off of her.

And it seemed her goal was similar to his. He knew it wasn’t for the same reason as his, but it made him feel warm at least that she cared for him that much.

With their similar goals, they were doing well at containment, even as Sanji moved slightly further away hoping to do a bit more damage without the risk of hitting her.

But all of that came abruptly crashing down.

In the heat of battle, his haki was better, he could sense the people around him and just about anticipate their moves, which was handy, and it guided him on where he needed to be. Right now though, it was heavily focused on Nami so he could get a feel for how she was doing without having to take his eyes off his opponents. She was focused and slightly anxious, but that was to be expected and he couldn’t sense any panic, so he trusted she was alright.

However, the feeling that came next had ice settling over his heart. Someone close reeked of ill intentions, repugnant thoughts almost brimming over, and that was saying something considering the group were all bounty hunters. But this was different from the rest of them, this individual was backhanded, immoral, a mixture of utter glee and vile motive.

It was that combination he didn’t like.

For the first time since developing his haki, he could make out a shadowy outline and it was over as quickly as it came on but there was no forgetting it, it was like he’d had a front row seat to a horror show. It’d been a shadow of a woman being shot from behind, her figure falling in slow motion to a heaped pile on the floor.

Despite it just being a shadow, there was no mistaking it, the woman from his vision was Nami. He’d know her presence anywhere.

It made him feel sick, but he didn’t linger on the image, instead he sent a forceful kick to the man in front of him and did a U-turn, charging towards her before he could think about what he was doing.

The voice in the back of his mind was chanting that he would be too late, be too slow and would be picking her body up from the floor before he could do anything. The people around him were forgotten in his single-minded devotion to get to her, shoving them out the way as he pushed any doubt out of his mind.

By hook or by crook, he would get there in time.

It wasn’t the heroic, princely move that he wanted or ever envisioned doing, but desperate times called for desperate measures as he hurled himself at her, outstretched arms curling around her and knocking her off her feet. The distinct sound of a gun firing went off as they started to fall to the floor, but it was okay, because he’d made it in time.

He spun them just in time that he ended up taking the brunt and they skidded on the ground, Nami clutched to him. His arm hurt and his back burned, his jacket no doubt shredded but the woman scrambling to get off of him was all worth it.

She was out of his arms and at his side, looking down at him with a frown. “Sanji, what are you- are you bleeding?!”

Her frown was gone, in place panic and when he looked down, he was greeted with a bloody arm. It twinged when he moved it but from what he could see, it was a graze.

It at least explained why his arm hurt.

Luckily the chaos bought them some time as the bounty hunters argued amongst themselves about the use of the gun that almost damaged their pay-check.

Just a shame it wasn’t all of them that were distracted.

He pushed up on that arm, ignoring the pain that flared from the wound in distress, and kicked one of the men that got too close to Nami. He shucked off his ruined jacket and threw it at another group starting to get too close and it gave him and Nami the time to get back on their feet.

But it wasn’t working like it was before, no matter how much they both pushed back, it felt like all of a sudden, the tables had turned. Where they’d been holding them back before they were now overwhelmed, barely keeping up with the punches. The distance they’d been able to establish was gone as the men crowded in and it was relentless.

He was being reckless, he knew he was, as he threw himself around with very little regard for himself, but he’d be damned if what he saw came to life. He didn’t care what happened to himself and at the end of the day, what was a scratch or bruised rib if it meant a healthy Nami.

His recklessness soon cost him when he fell to the floor a second time, but not of his own free will this time. Someone had taken him by surprise with the end of their gun and as his brain rattled, he knew that hit held the intention of trying to knock him out.

His head throbbed at him, almost begging him to stay down, but if he went down, it would only be Nami left, and he couldn’t leave her. With that thought in mind, he swept out his leg, knocking the other man to the floor before he could get in a hit that actually did finish him. He fought through the way his vision blurred and how the world wouldn’t stop moving as he stood to his feet.

“Sanji-kun! Are you okay?” She grunted; voice strained as she pushed someone back with her climatact and swung it around to hit someone else, unable to spare a moment to really look at him.

Nami was doing the best she could to cover him whilst he recovered but the group were getting frustrated by him and Nami’s resilience, it was clear as day in the way their moves were turning desperate and more vicious by the second. The earlier words of taking him alive seemed to be slipping from their minds, which worried him because so far, their gun use has been severely limited but if that changed…

“As long as you are, I am,” he replied, getting to his feet and at this point it was pure adrenaline keeping him up.

“Then think about what you’re doing!” She barked, smacking someone around the head.

From there on, the fighting had shifted. It’d turned into a free for all and Sanji silently willed Chopper to reappear because he was aware of the ticking clock working against them now. If the rest of the bounty hunters group showed up, they’d be done for.

Now, Sanji knew the score amongst the seas, he knew pirates, marines, bounty hunters had no honour, it wasn’t something to be expected from others, regardless how he felt about it.

But when he caught a flash of silver glinting at him from the corner of his eye, he felt his blood heat. If he thought he was angry before this, it was nothing compared to the man raising his knife on an unsuspecting Nami and he was flipping onto his hands to get in between them.

It was his sloppiness that put himself in this position. A position where he hadn’t been quick enough to position himself and in a last-ditch attempt, he found himself catching the man’s arms before he could bring the knife down on Nami’s back.

For the first time since Enies Lobby, he’d been forced to fight with his hands.

He’d dealt with enough squirming ingredients in his lifetime to have a firm grip, but the last thing he’d expected was for the man’s arms to slip straight through his hands like butter, along with the knife.

He hissed and recoiled in pain as he felt it slowly slice through the skin, his hand throbbing at him. It felt like it’d happened in slow motion, and he didn’t need to look down to know it was bleeding- he could feel it.

He hadn’t for one second expected a devil fruit and that was on him.

The man smirked nastily, proud of getting the better of him and what he wouldn’t do to plant his foot in the man’s face, but Nami’s voice behind interrupted, “Sanji, duck.”

He did so without hesitation, dropping to the ground and watched as Nami’s climatact stabbed the man in the face before twirling it between her hands to knock down anyone close enough.

He felt proud watching the damage she did until she turned her gaze on him and that vanished because of the look on her face. For the first time, he couldn’t read it. She looked pale and for a split second he was worried she was hurt until he watched her eyes flick from his face to focus on his hands.

He’d only caught a quick look at his hands but that was bad enough.

He flipped onto his hands, burying his bloodied palm into the dirt, to kick the man trying to sneak up behind Nami. If he thought his arm hurt, it was nothing compared to the heat flaring angrily from his palm. Grit burying itself in all the cuts on his palms, large or small, but he ignored that in favour of flipping and throwing himself back into the fray.

He couldn’t let up for even a second.

Although he didn’t want to entertain the thought, he was tired, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. Everything was working against him, his head still throbbed, his arm and hands both competing for which would burn stronger, and he couldn’t remember how it happened, but his ribs had begun to protest.

But he wouldn’t give until Nami was safe, that was why he wouldn’t entertain any thoughts of stopping. He couldn’t and wouldn’t until he could ensure her safety and that’s what kept him going.

It could have been a minute or an hour but the distant sound of ‘oni giri’ had relief flooding through him, for once happy to hear Marimo’s voice and his body gave up, right then and there. He slumped to the floor against his will; he was tired, his head was killing him, and his hands burned. From the cut to the dirt in the cut and everything in-between that’d made itself at home in the skin of his palms.

“Sanji-kun!” Nami’s distressed voice called out to him.

The last thing he saw was the stunning, unharmed, face of Nami, crouched over him, calling his name.

That was a good way to go down, in his opinion.

“Sanji!”

His head throbbed as he came to, and he groaned when he touched his forehead. Everything hurt. His head, hand, and arm. His hands. He tried to sit up, but his ribs protested, and he mentally added his body to the list.

An ambush. Just him and Nami. Someone trying to shoot her.

It all came flooding back and headache be damned, he opened his eyes to scan his surroundings. He instantly recognised Chopper’s medical room, so he could relax a bit but then his eyes caught the flash of orange beside him.

Nami.

She was facing away from him but from what he could glean she looked okay, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The movement caught her attention and she turned to face him. She still looked fine, but he had to ask, “Are you hurt?”

“You’re seriously asking me that right now?” Her voice filled with disbelief.

He didn’t respond, continuing to stare up at her, waiting for her answer.

She shook her head. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“As long as you’re fine, then I’m fine,” he parroted his earlier words, and it was true. The ache in his head worth it all to see her well. She didn’t look like she believed him and snorted, turning back around to grab more things.

As happy as he was that she was there, he’d been expecting Chopper flitting around him instead. “Where’s Chopper?”

“He’s dealing with the other idiots,” she said, sitting on the chair next to the bed.

“Chopper checked you over before going. You’ve got a minor concussion, we haven’t scrambled your brain yet.” Her lips curved up and she added, “Well, no more than normal.”

“Being around you scrambles my brain.”

“Which is normal,” she teased, grinning at him.

He laughed lightly but his ribs still protested angrily. He didn’t manage to smother the grimace in time and the smile slipped off her face as she turned to the side, gathering the supplies she’d need.

“We can deal with that later,” he said frowning, slowly sitting up and building momentum to get off the bed. “They put themselves out, the least I can do is make sure they’re fed.”

“You’re not leaving this bed!” Nami snapped, hand on his shoulder pushing him down.

He’d wanted to hear that from her mouth for as long as he’d known her, and he’d store that sentence away for later, but it was hard to be happy about it when her words were paired with the firm set of her mouth and furrowed eyebrows.

She was upset.

He’d upset her.

He laid back without any further resistance and the stiffness from her shoulders relaxed. He didn’t say anything else as she sat down on the chair next to the bed, her hands reaching for his.

“I haven’t seen you spin on your hands in ages,” Nami said, her thumb brushing over the pulse at his wrist to avoid any of the small injuries to his hand. “I can see why now.”

There were two bowels on the bed, and it wasn’t rocket science to realise what they were for. One was filled with water and the other empty bar a pair of tweezers.

She moved one of the bowels closer to them and cupped his hands. “Deep breath,” she told him and then dunked his hands into the bowel filled with water.

It stung, the water working its way into all of the cuts, but he didn’t complain. He wouldn’t, because she was safe, and this was the most she’d ever touched him, and it was so gentle. She held his hands in the water a second longer before lifting them out and onto a towel.

The, now murky, water filled bowel was moved onto the bedside table and the other bowel moved closer. She picked up the pair of tweezers with one hand and cupped one of his hands with the other. Her touch was delicate, and his hand went limp under her touch, letting her move it into the position she wanted.

With his palm facing the ceiling, she worked on getting all the various pieces lodged into his skin out. She was clinical in her movements, methodical as she moved over the skin, but she was gentle about it. She tried her best to do so without having to dig, but some of it was unavoidable.

For all her professionalism, once she’d pried a piece out the thumb from her free hand would rub a little circle into the side of his hand. He wasn’t sure if she was soothing herself or him, but it made him smile and goosebumps erupted over his arms.

With Nami focused on his hands, he had the luxury of looking over her face. Her face the picture of concentration, from the pinched lips to her furrowed eyebrows. Beneath the focus, she looked tired, but there wasn’t a single scratch on her face, and he was proud of that. Come tomorrow, she’d be back to her smiling self.

She moved onto the second hand, placing the first down onto the towel, and although she’d been doing it a while now, she was still just as doting and attentive to the other hand.

Brown eyes met his, finally acknowledging his staring and her hands stilled their work. “What?”

“My own personal nurse,” he joked, hoping to make her smile.

“Don’t imagine me as a nurse! We don’t need to add blood loss to the list of problems!” She scolded, lips pulling slightly at his antics but not what he’d been aiming for as they lapsed back into silence, and she continued with his other hand.

He hadn’t let himself look down at his hands before now, mainly because he didn’t need the distraction at the time but because it wouldn’t really make a difference how they looked. They looked like they’d been through the ringer though. Far worse than when he’d first learned to cook, where his fingers had been constantly burned or cuts had littered his fingers and palms from inexperience. Stains of dirt still remained in patches where it had resisted the first wash, and it clung to all the little openings from where anything sharp had been buried. All those openings were angry and red, some bleeding a little from where they’d been pulled about to get the bits of debris out.

Then there was the large cut spanning his left palm.

If the small cuts were angry, then that was furious, from the raw skin to the dried blood on his skin that would need a few more persuasive washes before coming out clean. It was long and deep, but he didn’t dare flex his hand to see just how deep it went into his palm. Thankfully it’d stopped bleeding but, in its place, it oozed instead.

That wouldn’t heal quickly.

But as he looked at his hands, he didn’t feel any strong emotion. He felt neutral. He wasn’t happy of course, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret. He’d do it again a million times over just to see Nami unharmed.

And he realised right then, if it was between his hands or Nami, it would be her every time. No questions asked, no hesitation.

It felt like it should be a huge earth-shattering moment, where the axis suddenly shifted, and all the pieces aligned into a moment of pure epiphany, because he’d said all his life how important and sacred his hands were. Yet it felt very matter of fact, like it just made sense and had never been any different. Sanji supposed, it never had been any different. Not for a long time at least.

“Look at your hands,” Nami mourned, face drawn and thumb focusing on cautiously tracing alongside the wound.

She’d said it so quietly he wondered if it was meant to be said to herself only. She was beautiful no matter what, but he hated that look on her face and he hated that he was the cause of it.

His uncut hand lightly gripped her hand. “I’d do it again.” He would, in a heartbeat. His gut flaring the exact same way it had just this morning.

“Don’t.” She looked at him sharply. “I don’t want you to.”

He knew what she wanted him to say, what she expected him to say because she’d known him for so long. But on this occasion-

“No.”

He’d never refused her before in all the time of knowing her. He’d always catered to her whims or discussed anything they’d disagreed on, coming to a mutual agreement before moving on. He’d never refused her so outright, so firmly and he would not budge on it. He refused to.

But as adamant as he felt about it, she looked just as equally defiant based on the tight expression she was giving him.

“Look at your hands,” she said sternly and held his hands up as if he’d see them clearer that way, “These are your dreams, your life, your everything. Don’t expect me to sit here and agree as you recklessly throw it away.”

Although he wasn’t shocked about his new revelation regarding his hands, it was still a revelation all the same and he found himself disagreeing with what she’d said. She was worth it all, it wasn’t reckless when it concerned her.

The next thought was at the tip of his tongue, threatening to bubble over past his lips but he hesitated. He knew what he was about to say would spook her, make her skittish and knew that his feelings for her weren’t returned- and that was okay, he just wanted to be around her, in whatever way he could.

Ultimately, he threw caution to the wind because when did he ever not give his all to everything he did?

“A life without you in it isn’t worth living.” And he meant it, with every fibre of his being. It’d be hollow without her smile, her laugh, her everything, brightening up his day. His dream of all blue was grey without the smart, caring and sassy navigator at his side, regardless of whether she returned his feelings.

“You’re being dramatic.” She didn’t sound sure; she didn’t look sure. He’d surprised her, he realised after a second, with such a sweeping statement. And it was warring with her anger over his refusal just seconds before.

“I’m not,” he said firmly, trying to get the message across.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do it for anyone else in this crew.” She was deflecting.

She had him there though. The same gut instinct flared up. “You’re right.”

But the feeling was different. They were his family; he’d do anything for them but her. Her. Nami. The sun rose and set with her. She was the first thing he thought about and the last at the end of the day. Her happiness was his happiness.

“But it’s different with you,” he continued, adamant.

This was the last thing he’d expected when he’d woken up and perhaps now wasn’t the best time to be doing this. He still had a concussion, and they were currently mid disagreement (he wouldn’t call it an argument) but he didn’t want the moment to pass. He didn’t want to try again later, to try and regain the moment they were currently in.

“Don’t change the subject.” She wouldn’t make eye contact, but she was still holding his hands.

“I’m not, it’s all relevant,” he insisted, and it was. He needed her to see that. This wasn’t something he just did on a whim.

It was silent as they stared each other down, willing the other to give. Well, Nami was actually glaring at him, which he could understand but he wasn’t giving in on this. He just couldn’t, it went against everything he felt so strongly about, but it still made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

The door to the med bay creaked open, breaking the stalemate as Chopper poked his head through. He hesitated at the door when he picked up on the odd tension. Sanji was just about to ask for ten more minutes because they were nowhere near done but Nami stood, his hands falling from her grasp onto the bed.

“Nami-san,” Sanji called after her, a battered hand feebly stretched out.

“He’s all yours,” she said to Chopper as she passed him.

She didn’t look back as she left, the door closing behind her.

Nami wasn’t speaking to him.

She was also actively avoiding him since the med bay and that had been yesterday. He wasn’t sure if it was because of their disagreement (not argument) or because in a roundabout way he’d confessed and made her uncomfortable.

He may regret the timing of the confession, no matter how right it had felt, but he didn’t regret their disagreement, not then and not now, even as Nami quickly left the kitchen without looking at him.

It stung a bit though.

Her reaction confused him though, he was expected to be yelled at or hit instead of silence, but he’d give her the space she clearly wanted for the rest of the day and then smooth it over tomorrow. Who knows, maybe he’d get that reaction tomorrow. He just hated the tension between them and the confused looks he kept receiving from the rest of the crew.

For now, he was looking down at a bowel of hot water and a pile of dishes that needed washing up. Chopper hadn’t mentioned about getting his stiches wet, but he figured he could always get the dressing covering his stiches wrapped again afterwards. Someone else in the crew would do the dishes, he knew that, but they’d already bailed him out once and the stiches would be in for at least a week, he should be able to do this himself. Dinner hadn’t been too bad, the hand with stitches twinged slightly and his arm where a bullet had skimmed had protested when he lifted it above his head, but he was no whiner.

So he cracked on, picking up the first plate and sponge to wash it with.

“Put down the plate,” a steely voice said from behind him.

Nami stood in the doorway, a vision of loveliness as she glowered at him with her hands on her hips.

She strode in, pushing the door closed behind her. “I saw everyone come out of the kitchen and I knew what you were doing, you big idiot.”

She snatched the towel of his shoulder and threw it onto the counter next to them when she reached him, eyes fiery and although he was taller than her, he’d never felt smaller in front of her.

Shit, he wasn’t ready for this, he thought as his palms started to sweat. Sure, he’d planned on talking to her tomorrow, but that was tomorrow, he would have had time to think it through before then.

“Did you mean it?” She asked, her tone neutral now and that only made him feel more on edge, that any wrong answer would have him toppling off the deep end.

He didn’t know what part of their conversation yesterday she was referring to, but there was no part he’d take back, even if it did make her angrier.

“Every word,” he said with surety, jaw set and staring into her eyes, trying to match his words so she understood.

She sighed deeply and he was bracing himself because that couldn’t be good.

“I’m still upset about this.” Her fingers tentatively grazed his bandaged hand and if they didn’t break plates as quickly as he knew they did, he would have dropped it then and there just to take her hand.

Instead, he put the plate down on the side, resting the sponge on top and he was going to gather her in his arms to hug her because he hated that he’d upset her, but she took his hands, stopping him in his tracks.

It was quiet as she looked down at his hands, palms facing upward so his cuts and bandage was on full display. It was a much better sight than yesterday; the rawness had faded, and the gruesome display of his wound hidden behind white cloth.

He was jarred from his observations when she let go of one of his hands and instead used it to trace along the bandage, fingers light as it travelled along his hand, retracing the length of the cut and although it may be hidden by a bandage, it might as well have not been by how accurately her fingers moved along it.

“I’m angry that you’d throw this all away,” she said lightly, voice even and it didn’t match her words. Her fingers stopped their journey to cup his hand as if to make her point and he didn’t need her to explain what she meant.

He didn’t want to argue but the way he felt still hadn’t changed. “Nami-”

“I’m not finished talking!” She snapped and his mouth shut without another word.

“I’m angry that you don’t trust me.”

Oh God, no. That was never what this was about, and he hadn’t even contemplated how she might think that. He didn’t care whether she was done talking or not, he was ready to shut that down but then her next words stole the breath from his lungs.

“But mostly, I’m angry that after all this time you don’t value yourself. Everything we’ve been through, and you still throw yourself in as if it means nothing.” Her eyes seared into his and like a coward he turned to the floor, unable to bear the brunt of that look.

His previous life might be well behind him now, but he couldn’t just switch off all the things that’d been said to him in his youth. It made it hard to believe that someone could care about him, care about his life to that extent. But it wasn’t an excuse; he knew that, and he knew the people on this ship felt very differently about him but that didn’t stop the thoughts in his head sometimes.

Another reason came to mind, but it made his chest constrict painfully, like he couldn’t breathe, and he always desperately tried not to think about it for too long for that very reason. It was the death of his mother. It hurt, it ached, and it haunted him in the quiet moments when it was just him and his memories. How he’d been helpless, unable to do anything as he lost her, and he wouldn’t see it happen again. Didn’t want to see it happen again, not if he could help it. The thought of losing someone precious whilst he lived on would be unbearable to live through again.

Both tied so deeply into one another, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to pry them apart and let them go.

She gripped his hand, trying to get his attention from his thoughts and staring match with the floor but the best he could do was look at their joined hands.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said it softly, but it was so loud in the quiet kitchen.

“And I don’t want to lose you,” he said earnestly, his free hand coming to rest on top of hers, to feel the warmth on her skin because his chest tightened at the thought of her not being around.

She considered him for a second and he wondered if this was the start of another disagreement before she delivered, “The way you feel about me getting hurt, why do you think it’s any different when it’s you?”

The way he felt about her…

Oh.

And just like that, the tables had turned. He looked at her face, scanning, searching for the answer to a question he hadn’t yet verbalised whereas she wouldn’t look at him, resolutely looking down at their joined hands.

Her bashfulness gave him the courage to ask.

“You mean…?”

He was met with silence but that didn’t dishearten him, his heart felt as if it was going to burst through his chest at any moment, as hope foolishly blossomed in his lungs because surely, she didn’t feel the exact same way as he did. Surely not. Not for him.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, frowning and his heart sunk.

“But I’m the idiot that wants you.”

He’d imagined this moment so many times, played this over and over in his daydreams but it didn’t hold a candle to the actual moment. He was speechless and his heart was doing summersaults from the roll coaster ride it had been on in the last minute. He still wondered if he was asleep, if he would wake up any second to the cruel reality it was in his imagination again.

“I expected more enthusiasm,” Nami said dryly, smirking and she was back to looking him in the eye.

“I just…” ‘didn’t expect it. Ever.’ Is what he wanted to say but she had, and he didn’t want to tar the moment with his insecurities. Although someone would need to pinch him later.

“I know you’re not going to give on your recklessness, it’s partially why I was so angry, but just so you know Black Leg Sanji this is a two-way street-” she leaned in, eyes alight with confidence- “and I’ll be fighting just as hard for you.

She wouldn’t need to, he’d make sure he was more than enough for the both of them, but her words made him smile, made him feel delirious and the nasty thoughts at the back of his mind were quiet for once.

But there was something he had to clear up first.

“Nami-san, I’ve never thought you were weak. Never thought you weren’t capable. You’ve proven time and time again you can protect yourself, but if I can prevent you getting hurt, I’m going to.”

She breathed heavily through her nose but smiled softly. “All I ask, is that you at least consider your hands when doing stupid things.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “That’s the most I’m going to get from you, so stop messing around and kiss me already.”

He gaped at her like a fool, he’d expected so much more than this, more arguing, more talking, more back and forth. That internal dialogue came to a screeching halt when Nami, bored of his staring, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and brought him into a searing kiss.

Fireworks, sirens, alarms were all going off in his head as he scrambled to catch up, but she was persistent, lips coaxing and hands tightening on the lapels, urging him along. All of those noises faded away into bliss when he reciprocated in kind, seizing the moment he’d waited so long for.

For the first time since it’d been wrapped on his hand, he cursed the bandage that was denying him feeling the soft skin of her arm. That was pushed to the back of his mind when she pulled on his jacket, pressing them closer together and his hands moved to her back to diminish any space left between them. At least his fingers could enjoy the delicate skin of her back exposed from the halter top she wore.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily and he was trying his best to take in her face.

“What a poorly timed confession,” she teased, lips brushing against his as she spoke.

“I know.” He cringed, she deserved so much more than this.

“I expect you to make it up to me.” Her lips curved upward.

“For as long as you’ll let me.”

Her eyes crinkled and the teasing expression was gone, replaced with softness. “Good answer.”

The next kiss was slow, and he was ready for it this time as he put his all into it. Lips caressing, heads tilting to find the right angle and they soon found their rhythm. Daringly he brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips and their tongues brushed when she parted her lips. As much as he liked their first kiss, the second was his favourite as he got to take his time as he tasted her and listened to the little breathy noises she made.

He looked forward to having more favourites with her.

“Seeing as I can’t get my stitches wet, maybe you’ll help me in the shower,” he muttered when they pulled apart briefly.

She leaned up on her toes and he had expected her to kiss him again, she was so close he could almost taste her on his lips when she whispered, “Ask Zoro to wash your back.”

That threw cold water on the mood and the image that popped into his head was enough to make a nasty shiver slither down his spine. “That’s not funny, Nami-san.”

Nami laughed, eyes crinkling and face lighting up at the displeased look on his face and as horrified as he was with her suggestion, it was the look on her face he adored seeing.

“I’m sure something can be arranged,” she said once her giggling had resided.

He leaned down to kiss her again, but she took a step away, swiftly dodging arms that tried to drag her back in. When he went to follow her, his world went black as she threw the tea towel on his head.

“Come on, I’ll wash, you dry.”

Yeah, he regretted nothing. He’d do it a hundred times over again now and in the future, just so he could have this with her.

-----------------------------------

Listen, I just love the way Sanji feels about Nami, and I channelled all of that into this. He adores her, she’s the one for him, he’s her number one cheerleader. I HAVE SO MANY FEELS.

I have a head canon that Sanji stopped doing those kicking handstands because he’d get scratches and splinters in his hands afterwards and that defeated the purpose of fighting with his legs (even if I think they do look super cool!). I’m sure the manga will prove me wrong, but I can’t recall him doing it since pre time skip.

Just in case you didn’t read my other (filth) fic, Ray started a SaNami discord group, it’s a chill place to chat and share your love for this pairing. If you’d like to join, message me on here or Twitter and I’ll send you the link (Please make sure I can message you back!). Feel free to join, the more the merrier!

As always, please excuse any errors.

Thank you to Ray for this lovely trade and to everyone for reading.

#SaNami #SanNami #SaNa #namixsanji #opfanfic #opwriting #One Piece #Nami #Sanji

20 notes · View notes

kitsunesakii · 3 years

Text

Experimenting, had fun writing this!

I wouldn't have it any other way:

"Great" I muttered, looking into the dingy hotel room, Onix pushing past me into the room. This day couldn't be any worse. Stupid hero agency. Most people would be happy to be in my position, I was stationed in a stake out with a local villain that was trying to prove that he had changed. A massive operation. My problem with it?

First of all I was only chosen because I was the most expendable since I was not only a sidekick, but I didn't have a drastic power. He was a telepath, and since I was an empath, I was the only one that could be sent in that could keep certain secrets about the agency. But that's not why they chose me. I wasn't considered a super hero, barley looked at as a sidekick. People laughed when they heard about me, a girl who could distort emotions? Stupid compared to someone who could move brick and stone, or shoot lightning. I was the one they sent when there was a possibility of death. The only upside was Onix, he was the reason why I accepted the mission. He could switch from playboy to gentlemen to evil in three seconds flat. And while I can hold my own, it was easy for him to make my heart melt. Which was only slightly annoying.

"Ah, we seem to have a problem"

I was pulled from my thoughts as his voice echoed through the small room. "Only one bed dearest" he cooed. I stared at the room's bed. It looked cute, with a baby blue blanket with white pillows. In the corner of the room was a comfy looking chair. I tried to force down the red that was growing on my face, letting out a nervous chuckle instead.

"I'll sleep on the chair" I stated, giving him a forced optimistic smile. This day was just getting better and better. He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest. Instead of watching him I pulled out my laptop and started hacking through the main frame of the building next door. I don't even know why they sent me, I'm no hacker, at least, not skilled like "Cypher" or her sidekick. And I was getting a headache, brought on by the lecture I had given before I was assigned this case. Don't forget that the only reason your here is because you are lucky enough to be able to force him out of your thoughts. It's the only thing your useful for. I grimaced at the memory, I wasn't really in the mood for being stepped on. And I was reaching my breaking point. Fast.

"I'll just sleep on a chair" he mocked, a playful smile dancing on his features. It had been a while since I had seen him. The last time was when I worked with an insufferable hero people called "bolt" he had been the only one that took me on and only because I didnt outshine him. We had been assigned with a bank robbery, Onix had been there, along with about three other people. He had gotten the upper hand, just my luck, taking me into a room for interrogation. The minute I figured out that he could read minds I had shut him out. Instinctively fogging all my thoughts.

That was the moment the agency realized I has some ounce of worth, Keeping the secrets safe. But Onix hadn't gotten angry, didn't hurt me, just stared at me in wonder, in awe, a sight I never got to see. It made my stomach turn in knots.

"Your gonna sleep on a chair, for 3 nights?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his teasing smile growing by the second.

"Yes" I deadpanned. The heat in my face steadily rising. I guess it wasn't all bad, he didn't look down on me like everyone else did, or at least he pretended. I couldn't know for sure because he also instinctively tuned me out of his subconscious.

"I know I'm irresistible to look at but I'm even more fun to sleep with" he hummed.

I dipped my head below the laptop screen. My face was burning, I wasn't used to someone speaking to me like that. And it was a bit annoying, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it. it was that it could all be fake, and I was simply setting myself up for disappointment. I typed away at the computer, ignoreing his comments, it had been a while since I was asked to hack into something so complex, this was going to take me a while. I felt a hand drag down the length of my scalp, onto the base of my neck. I went rigid. "W-what"

"Shhhh, you get so tense, just relax"

He traced a finger lightly through my hair, sending ripples throughout my neck. The pleasure ripped through my back. That was enough.

I forced myself to stand, shaking free of his hold and moving to the other side of the room. "Don't, just don't" the surprise on his face was evident, as he also jumped to his feet, confusion seeping through his eyes. I felt the anger bubble under my skin.

"Everybody treats me like crap, and you come in here and pretend and I just have had enough!" I tried to breathe, tried to see reason, but I was so tired of it all. "I put up with it because I feel like I can maybe make a difference, and everyone looks down at me because I'm a bloody empath" I covered my face with my hands, feeling a hot tear make it's way down my cheek. "And you come in here, and treat me with pity" this shouldn't of been happening, I shouldn't of been here. My stupid emotions, his stupid good looking features. Two hand hit the sides of my shoulders, gently drawing circles on my skin. I wiped away the angry tear that had fallen, leaning into the touch, too tired to argue.

"Do you think I'm giving you the time of day out of pity?" His voice was a whisper, and it was straight into my ear, I stiffened. "Over this past week I've gotten to learn a lot about you, I learned your power, how your looked down apon. But mostly, I learned that when you put your mind to something you won't let anyone lead you astray." He moved a hand, placing it under my chin. Tilting it so our eyes met. "Your beauty comes from the determination coursing through your veins. Your kindness comes from experience. And you patience is one of your greatest virtues." He paused, his gaze burning through my eyes. A dangerous smile resting on his smooth face. "And, I also noticed, that when your around me, your thoughts do this thing. Almost like a low hum. Almost like," he lowered his voice to a purr "you get flustered around me, and dearest? You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off of you~"

with that he pressed his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands met my hair, and he combed through my scalp. Sending more shivers down my spine. I let the wall behind me support me, feeling all my strength leave with every small tug at my hair. One minute his lips were pressed against mine and the next they traveled down my cheek, riding the length of my neck. My breath hitched as his cool tongue grazed my exposed skin. He paused, moving back up to meet my gaze. I had held onto his shoulders, desperately trying to fight against gravity.

He smiled. Looking at my fire coated cheeks. Tracing the tip of his thumb against my lip. His other hand still hypnoticly playing with my hair. "If you really think I'm going to let you sleep on the chair, then you don't know me at all" he teased, once again closing the distance between us. Nibbling at my ear. I let out a tiny squeak, unsure at what I was reacting too since his other hand was running up and down the length of my back, each time going a little further, causing goosebumps to creep along my skin.

I moved my hands, gliding them down his shirt, feeling the grooves in his chest. My mind was hazy, all common sense and reason leaving me with every sigh. I didn't really know what to do, and he wasn't making it easier. Skillfully making every shift of his hands, every flick of his fingers, melt my brain more than the last. His lips met mine and I could taste the salt of his lips, feel the satisfaction rolling off of him. His hands moved down my front, rewarded with another small squeak from me, before slowly making his way to my hands, that were still absentmindedly tracing his chest. He held them in his, only then I was realizing how big his hands were compared to mine, suited with little cuts and bruises here and there. I breathed, taking a moment to pull his hands up to my face, studying them closely. Forcing my brain to stop spinning. He stayed quiet, watching me closely as I brought his knuckles to my lips, brushing against his hands, moving them to brace against my cheek.

"There so warm" I whispered, feeling him shape his palms to fit against my face. Still wearing the same smile that dug it's stare into my own. He stayed there a moment, his chest rising and falling quickly, sucking in a breath before settling his lips against mine once again. His hands moved, one taking residence behind my neck, and the other flew against my side. Making it's way to my hip, gingerly tracing circles over top of me, dragging his fingers slowly.

He pulled me fully off the wall, startled, I braced myself against him even more. using his neck as a way to keep myself up, stretching flush against him. His lips were still planted on mine, I wouldn't have it any other way, especially considering I couldn't bring myself to speak. Instead, he hummed into my gasps. Skillfully holding me, just enough to feel his own heartbeat thrumimg rhythmically to mine. He lifted both his hands back up to my shoulders, fiddling with the front of the T-shirt I had on. The fabric smooth under his fingers. He said something, but I didn't hear it, between my heart ringing through my ears and my own breathing, I couldn't bring myself enough to hear.

"Dearest? Did you hear me?" He didn't sound out of breath, making me jealous. I could barely speak. Instead, I shook my head, thanking God that I could at least have enough sense to do that. His smile only got wider, "I said, this is going to be a fun 3 days. "

#writing snippet #writing #villain x hero #hero x villain #romance #a little more than fluff

17 notes · View notes

honeygingergemini · 4 years

Note

Hey bb I'm here for two things! If you do taglists can I be added to all your cevans characters? And to request a daddy Steve and princess reader. Maybe her innocence and sweetness turning soft daddy on? Or anything you'd like. Thank you❤❤

Hello :))) First I’m so sorry that I took so long to get this put a lot of stuff happened in a short amount of time but its finally finished and I hope you love it!<3

I’ve read this a thousand time but I know there’s still typos please ignore them <3

warnings: innocent reader, fingering, attempts at dirty talk and praise kink

word count: 1.9k

My Little Princess

As much as you try, your mind keeps replaying the conversations from work. You and the other ladies of the office always eat lunch together and gossip about office drama. Today was no different. The trending topic of the office today was Michelle and her engagement. The dialogue quickly changed from how big Michelle's ring is to what she had to do to get that ring. Or better yet, what she had to suck.

“I bet she blows him off every night.” Kim spills between bites.

“Blows?” All five heads turn in unison eyeing you with suspicion.

“Uh yeah babe, blow job.” Tina mutters in a condescending tone you don’t catch.

“What’s a blow job?”

You squirm from embarrassment. Hours later and you can still feel the twinge of humiliation bubbling in your chest. Of course it would be you, of course it had to be you. The only woman in the world who’s never given a blown job. It’s not like you didn’t know what a blow job was, because you did! You just hadn’t known it had different names. You shuffle again, blowing out air from your nose.

“You okay, princess?”

“Hmm, yeah yeah, i’m fine.” You tuck yourself closer into Steve’s arm trying to focus on the movie infront of you, but you can’t.

“You’ve never given Steve a blow job?” Amanda asks, genuinely curious.

“W-Well uh- no.” You fumble with your shirt, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze.

“Wow, true love actually exists, he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars and you’ve never blown him off.” Kim touches your shoulders. “My dear you’ve won the jackpot, whatever you do, do not let him go!”

Your mind begins to wonder. Thoughts of uncertainty creeping in to fuck with the foundation of your relationship. Have I been doing enough? You and Steve have been together for a year and you thought everything was going well, but now you’re not so sure. You thought your sexual life was moving perfectly, up until today. You two haven’t slept together but you’ve done other things to satisfy the primal needs. Heavy petting, hunching, intense kisses that leave you dizzy. Never once in any of those moments did you feel they may have not been enough for Steve but now that's all you can think of. What if he’s bored of me?

“Hm.” You turn again causing Steve to pause the flick you two are watching.

“What’s wrong, doll? You can’t keep still today.” You untangle yourself from Steve and turn around to face him. Your knees press into the couch, putting you in a comfortable kneeling position.

“Steve.” You begin fumbling with your fingers. “Are you… bored?” Your voice is small but your heart is loud.

“Of?...”

“Are…. are you bored of… like of... of me?” You peer up at Steve through shy lashes.

“No.” His face twists with disgust and confusion. “Why would I be bored of you, we’re just watching a movie”

“No,” You cut off the clueless man spread out before you. “Do I… satisfy you?” Steve’s face remains blank through three blinks then his boisterous laugh appears, sending tiny swords through your center and brings you to a death by embarrassment.

“Steve, I’m serious.” But that only fuels his laughter more. “Steven!” Your whine pulls Steve from his laugh and he sees you’re physically uncomfortable.

“Baby? Doll, come on…” Steve’s large hands grip your head to face him but you shuffle out of his hold. “Hey, where is this coming from?” You chew your bottom lip contemplating whether or not you should reveal the conversations plaguing your mind.

“If you didn’t satisfy me, I wouldn’t be with you.” Steve grips your waist and pulls you onto his lap straddling his thighs. “Hey.” His head dips down to meet your low eyes. “You please me, you always do.”

“So it doesn’t matter that i’ve never given you a blowjob?” Your mouth moves faster than your mind, further embarrassing you. Your question is met with a deafening silence.

His face is full of concern and now you're upset with yourself for even bringing this shame home with you. “Princess, where is this from? Seriously.”

“Well, the ladies and I were at work and Michelle got engaged so then we started talking about blowjobs and i didnt know what one was, well I do know what a blowjob is i just didn't know it’s formal name and-”

“Hey!” Steve cuts off your soft rambles causing you to breath. “Look at me?” Hie large fingers cup your chin and bring your eyes to focus on his warm blues. “You’re enough for me.” He seals his words with a kiss. The kiss was sweet. Affirming to my insecure soul. The next kiss was less noble but just as passionate. The familiar burn sets in your chest as the kiss grows more heated. Steve’s skillful tongue wraps around yours in a way that is profane. A soft whimper escapes you as your boyfriend pulls away from you.

“Stand up for me baby.” Steve commands through hasty breaths. You quickly stand before him, chest rising with anticipation. Steve’s sizable hands familiarize themselves with your body like they've done time before. He takes his time squeezing your breast. Even through the thick material of your top you can feel Steve's hands radiating heat into your skin. His hands then find your midriff rubbing his calloused hands into you making you squirm.

“Steve,” You cooed impatiently.

“Yes pretty girl?” His hands are placed on your hips now, working your jeans down your legs. His lips find the trimmings of your lace panties, placing soft microscopic kisses along the ‘v’ of the material. You intake sharply when Steve's lips meet your clothed mound.

“Turn around for me sweetness.” you spin slowly moving on a form of autopilot. “Sit back.” He holds your waist guiding you to sit back down on his lap. He brings his knees between your legs before widening his stance, leaving you unable to close your legs on your own.

“Baby?” His hands trail up your midsection, to tweak your beaded nipples through the thick material of your top. “You know how much i love you, right?” With each word warm air caresses the skin behind your ears. You feel amazing, he hasn't done much and you feel over the moon. A light pinch brings you to reality. “Hmm baby?”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize for your hesitation “Yes I know how you love me.”

“How much.” His colossal hands continue their assault on your chest. He gently pulls a nipple between his index and middle finger. A soft moan leaves you barely audible.

“A whole-” Your answer is cut off when you feel heat separate from your own grazing your pussy. Unbenounced to you, Steve's hand had made his way to your slit and began to slowly circle the area. Another soft call leaves your silk lips.

“Answer baby”

“You love me a whole lot, to the moon and all the stars and back”

“That’s right baby,” He pushes his finger into your clit with a little more pressure than before. “To the moon,” He pulls your panties up wrapping the moistened core around his thick fingers “To every single star.” His fists tighten as he prepares for destruction “And back.” he pops the fabric of your under garments and you gasp. His lips meet your neck again and place more kisses to your pulse points.

“You know how much I love you,”His fingers introduce themselves to your slick folds. The sounds of light sloshing make you aware of just how turned on you are. Your head falls back unable to maintain even breathing. “You know, so how could you let one conversation mess with your mind?” The conversation that once brought you immense embarrassment was now a complete after thought. Steve's fingers were torturing you sweetly. Your clit vibrates against his tough skin as his warm slick lips meet your juggler leaving open ended kisses.

“You’re so pretty baby.” kiss. “My little princess.” kiss. “You gonna let me make you feel good?” Instead of a kiss Steve licks down towards your collarbone.

“Yes.” You hiss unsure of how to react. You’ve had intimate moments with Steve before but nothing like this. “Yes Stevie, please make me feel good.” Steve pushes his nose into the back of your neck inhaling deeply,

“You're so sweet honey, so polite.” His left hand is firmly pressed against your core while his right hand runs underneath your top lifting it to reveal one breast. He presses down on your clit causing you to whimper.

“Stevie.” you whine. Your body begins to wither on top of him. “Please baby, I need more” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you grind into Steve’s stiffness. Steve dips his middle finger into you. “Mmhhmm” you cry out from the pleasure. Your skin is hot and your ears hear a slight ringing.

“You see how you make me feel, doll?” and you do. Your hips gyrate over his in a circular motion. You feel his hard stomach against your back then his well built member pressing firmly into his denim causing you to moan. Your music only fuels Steve more.

“One day,” His ring finger joins the middle one and he speeds up his violation. “Instead of my fingers it’ll be my dick in you.” Steve’s control is admirable. With every dip of his digits a wet click follows as a response. The once light sloshing is now replaced by intense leaking. You can't remember a time you've ever been this wet. Your arousal is overflowing. “I’m gonna fill you up baby, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“I love this sweet pussy.” He whispers more so to himself rather than to you. All you can do is moan.

“You’re gripping me so tight baby girl… you like me playing with your pussy?” Your head is spinning, Steve’s voice is the only thing cutting through the white noise of your mind. Steve has never spoken to you this way. His words ignite a fire in your core as the familiar build of an orgasm approaches. He takes notice of your approaching release.

“I want to see you squirt pretty girl,” Your hips jolt forward as Steve curls his fingers within you. “Come on, be a good girl and squirt for Captain.” He’s now slamming his fingers into creating a vulgar splashing everytime his palm meets your mound.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Your voice raises higher with each connection. Your right nipple is exposed to Steve taunting him. His lips wrap around the nub causing you to arch closer to him. He swirled the muscle in his mouth around your nipple in a way that was heinous.

“Please Stevie, please.” You sink your nails into his high attempting you bring your bodies closer, if that was even possible.

“Come on, I want my sweet girl to feel good.” The combination of Steve’s lengthy fingers continue their manipulation to your internal walls, his right hand presses firm semi circles into your pleasure button and you see white. Your orgasm ripples through you like an intense wave. Your literal wave splashes across Steve’s thigh and he chuckles. You’re faintly aware of him licking your arousal off his fingers.

“Stevie…” You sobbed from the stimulation. “Stevie.” His name is the only thing coherent in your mind.

“I know, I know pretty girl.” Steve coos. His hands slow pace calming you down through the aftershocks of release. “You look so beautiful when cum.” He smiles widely as he smacks your thigh.

“I can’t wait to see you do that on my dick.”

#smut writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #ginger requests #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #steve rogers x you #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers fic #honeygingergemini #chris evans black!reader #chris evans x black reader #steve rogers x black!reader

343 notes · View notes

luvteez · 4 years

Text

at your service

pairing: san x fem!reader genre + tags: smut | humiliation (in the form of wearing a maid costume bc san is a kinky weeb), begging, master kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected sex wc: 2.2k

A smirk creeps on San’s lips the moment the door flies open. He’s made himself comfortable on the bed, legs crossed and head resting against the headboard. Before he can let out the comment that’s been lying heavy on the tip of his tongue, you lash out first.

“I fucking hate you for making me wear this.”

“Yes, you told me that around six times already,” he drawls, visibly amused by the situation. “But we had a deal. You lost, so suck it up.”

The neckline plunges too low for your liking, and the skirt — can it even be considered a skirt? — is so short that you’re bound to flash the panties you’re wearing underneath whenever you as much as dare move. Perhaps you’d find the garter belt cute, if only you weren’t wearing it with this skimpy version of a maid uniform. How much did San pay for this? Actually, you don’t want to know.

San gets off the bed, eyes trained on you the entire time. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth once his gaze settles on your exposed legs, making you clench your thighs together. The way he blatantly eye-fucks you has you growing wet, and you fucking hate it. It’s one thing to be put through this humiliation, but wearing this maid outfit and being aroused? Your ego can only take so much.

Once he’s standing in front of you, the power imbalance couldn’t get any more obvious. There’s him, wearing a nice dress shirt with the top buttons undone and black jeans, and then there’s you in nothing but a slutty rendition of a servant costume. The look he sends you makes you tear your eyes away from him and heartbeat rise to your ears, and you just hope for the better that he doesn’t point it out.

Luckily, he doesn’t. Instead, he circles around you, giving you a once-over from every possible angle. It’s silent, save for the sound of San’s footsteps bouncing off the walls. You wait for him to say something with bated breath, but that never comes. Eventually, he stops right behind you, and you’re pretty sure he’s fixated on the part of your ass that the skirt doesn’t cover.

The silence is deafening, unbearable even, but you don’t plan on losing this unsaid game. If San already has you dressed as degradingly as it can get, you’re not going to entertain him any further. But then an arm wraps around your waist and pins your back against his chest, while another hand snakes down under your skirt and cups your covered cunt. You manage to bite back a moan at the sudden contact, but your body betrays you with how you jolt.

“Cute,” San snickers, before propping his chin on your shoulder. “Just adorable.” His breath is hot against your neck as he continues to put his fingers to use. He traces your folds over the panties that are slowly turning damper by the second, toys around with your clit, and even dares to shove some of your underwear into your entrance once you’re leaking enough to his liking. You struggle to stand still on both legs as he does how he pleases, deadset on withstanding him, even if this torture is the cost.

“I hate you,” you say through gritted teeth, but it comes out rather comical when your knees finally give up on you and you lean on him for support. The subtle moan that follows suit doesn’t help either. San only smiles against your skin before he pushes your underwear aside and slides two digits in you. The messy technique is all over the place, but he curls his fingers in all the right angles and hits all of your weak spots precisely, reducing you into a panting wreck. You throw your head back, overwhelmed by everything that’s going on, and when he pays attention to your clit again, you’re on the verge.

You’re so close that you can taste your sweet release, but then he stops. You’re about to complain because you know full well what he’s done, but he beats you to it first.

“Come again? What did you say? You’re my maid now, so you better act like one. This is part of the deal after all.” Although he’s muttering in your ear, he enunciates every single syllable with clarity that makes your skin crawl. “Apologize.”

You know exactly what he’s after. San wants to break you. wants to crush your pride and make you his little bitch. You’d put up a longer fight, but your mind is just revolving around sansansan and the desperate want to come.

“Forgive me.” You cringe at how small your voice sounds, defenseless even.

“Forgive me...?” he echoes as his fingers start to move again, albeit at a much slower pace than before. You’re confused by the implication, and turn all cogs in your brain in hopes of finding the answer.

Oh.

The daunting realization must’ve flashed across your face because San encourages you to speak. If only you could turn your head and face him, you’d give him a piece of your mind. Not that it would’ve been effective anyway, since he has you locked in his hold.

He whispers the first syllable of the word, and you gasp. Your suspicions were right all along, but the confirmation makes you burn up even more in embarrassment. He’s really trying to stoop you down onto the lowest level.

But you can do it. you tell yourself you can do it. After all, a deal’s a deal.

“M-master. Forgive me, master.”

San wasn’t prepared for the delivery, judging by the way he flinches. To your dismay, he pulls out entirely, leaving you gaping, and the growl that follows is borderline feral. “You’re the maid, not me. You’re the one who should be doing all the work. If you want to cum, then earn it.” With that, he lets go of you before heading back to the bed.

You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is stare at him as he makes himself comfy on the bed again, but you quickly scramble to him when he motions you towards him with a flick of his hand.

“What do you want me to do?” San cocks a brow as if to say is this your best? and you quickly rephrase. “Is there anything I can help you with... master?” The word feels so foreign on your tongue, doesn’t slip the right way. You hate how it’s enough of a confirmation that he has the upper hand; a confirmation that you’re nothing but his little servant.

He smiles lazily. “Sit on my cock.” And that’s all it takes to have you straddling him. You don’t waste any time pulling his pants down along with the black briefs, letting his length spring out. He’s fully hard and flushed red, just looking inviting to suck on, and it has your mouth watering. But then: “Keep the uniform on.”

Of course it was too good to be true. There’s no way San would let you forget who’s in absolute charge here. You can’t complain though, because you’re getting dicked earlier than expected.

You manage to slide him inside of you without any complications. Breathy moans leave his mouth as you take him in inch by inch, and the way he struggles to lie still is a tiny victory for you. Meanwhile, the way his cock stretches you out has you whining in pleasure, and your head is only spinning around sansansan by the time you’ve taken him up to the hilt.

“Can I— do you want me to move, master?”

Maybe it was because you got your hopes up to high, but you can’t help how disdain spreads all over you when San reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “No. Sit still.”

And just like that, he dismisses you nonchalantly and starts tapping rapidly on his phone; as if having you sit on his cock while wearing a maid outfit is a daily occurrence. Your jaw nearly drops when you realize he’s fucking texting. You’re about to speak up, but then the thought of him chastising you because you’re supposed to be a maid pops up in your brain. He’d definitely do that, and he’d definitely punish you too. The question is, how far is he willing to go?

You don’t want to find out.

So you sit still, losing track of time. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on his lap, trying your best not to think about his cock pulsing in you, but it must’ve been a fucking while when San suddenly tilts his phone, thumbs no longer moving. That’s when you become acutely aware of the camera facing you, and you can’t help but wonder what on earth he’s watching.

Or what if he’s filming you—

That thought has you unknowingly clenching your walls, and you inhale sharply as you realize he’s still snug in you. Luckily, San doesn’t stir, and that realization has you going on your rounds. Maybe if you do it one more time and he doesn’t budge, you could get away with it—

“A-are you recording?” The words are spoken out loud before you even realize it.

San looks up at you and tilts his head. “No, I’m not. Why?” His voice is dripping in innocence, but then he lifts a brow and you know you’re doomed. “Do you want me to record you? Does it turn you on? Is that the reason why you keep tightening around me? Why you’re quite literally dripping on my cock?”

Your heart almost stops dead in its tracks. So he noticed the entire time.

“Please let me move, master. Please,” you blurt out, no longer caring about your fucking dignity. “Please let me come on your cock. W-want master to fuck me dumb and show me my place.” The number of times you said please in the last few seconds is pitiful, but you don’t find it within you to care.

“That would imply that you were thinking in the first place. If you weren’t stupid, you wouldn’t have insulted me and said you hated me.”

“You’re right, master, I wasn’t thinking earlier. Please,” you beg, vision slowly getting blurry. San truly outdid himself and got what he fucking wanted, reducing you to the point where you’re so desperate you’re about to cry. Of course you’re desperate because there’s a cock filling you up but you’re not being fucked. And as if that wasn’t hell in itself, you’re wearing this godforsaken maid outfit because you lost a bet.

“Ssh, I got you, baby.” San’s eyes instantly soften and there’s fondness lying in them. You know what he’s about to ask, but you quickly give him the green light to continue. He mouths you an ‘okay’ and reassuringly squeezes your hand before settling both of his hands on your hips.

There’s a playful glimmer in his eyes, and then he sets back into character, smugness written all over his face. “You want me to fuck you dumb? I’m gonna fuck your brains out, alright.”

In a split second, his grip on your hips tighten. the next thing you know, he snaps his hips against you, and you’re sent three dimensions over.

His cock manages to reach you even deeper if that’s humanly possible, and you sob. Your moans overlap with his grunts as he thrusts in and out of you at a brutal pace. You barely find the energy to keep your body up, and it’s all San’s doing as he slams your hips down on him. Eventually, he manages to flip your positions around so that you’re pliant underneath him. He doesn’t let down with the intensity when he fumbles for your clit, and your eyes roll back as you feel your orgasm approaching.

And just a few seconds before you unravel, he pulls his cock out entirely. Fighting back the tears welling up in your eyes, you choke when he nudges his head against your clit. Precum dribbles down your slit and mixes with your own slick, reminding you that he’s not letting you come again.

“Why?” you wince. San is unfazed by your desperation.

“You wanted me to show you your place, didn’t you?” He slides his head along your slit for good measure, and raises his voice to add, “I’ll show you your place and give you what you want if you do what master wants.”

Despite the buzz in your head, you get the underlying order. San isn’t fucking around and means business, always has, so you muster up the energy to ask, “What do you want, master?”

The sly grin he flashes is the only thing you see. “I want you to say my name over and over again. And once you’ve said it loud enough, I want you to scream it.” He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “I want the whole neighbourhood to know who’s making you feel good.”

#ateez smut #atz smut #choi san smut #san smut #luvsmut

679 notes · View notes

mysticm3ss · 4 years

Text

in my dreams [zen x reader]

soooo i read headcanons by @reifromrfa abt zen and unrequited love and they made me almost cry so i wrote this to feel better lol

You have a nightmare, Zen is there to comfort you 💜 pure fluff ahead my friends

words: 1k (ish)

When you wake, your eyes are stinging.

Indigo darkness drapes across the room like spilt ink, slick and thick, drowning out any semblance of light. Your legs are tangled in sweaty sheets, chest heaving and temples damp. Your heart slams against your ribs, the beat ringing in your ears and blocking out the quiet sounds of the nighttime. All you can hear is the thrumming, and the echoes of subconscious words slowly fading into the mere memory of a dream. There are tears in your eyes.

You remember the smile on his face, the brilliance of his eyes, the warmth of his laugh; none of it yours to cherish. You remember her shy smile, the flush on her cheeks, her giggle as he dipped his head to her ear, lips brushing over her skin as he whispered secrets that were lost in the silk of her hair. Affirmations that you would never be blessed to hear, affection that you would never receive. Not from him.

“Mm… babe? You okay?”

Zen’s groggy voice jolts you into consciousness. The sudden, grounding force of his voice has you lightheaded, mind spinning and distant as you suck in a large breath, the chill of the air burning your lungs, and the only sensation that feels real at this moment.

“Babe?”

The bed creaks as Zen sits up, eyes bleary as he fumbles for the lamp. A yellow glow drifts into the darkness, pulling it gently apart like a velvet curtain. When you look at Zen, your vision is fuzzy with sleep and dimness, a grainy snapshot of relief to the mess of emotions swelling and lumping in your throat.

“Zen,” you croak; that’s all you can manage before the tears finally fall.

“Oh, baby,” Zen whispers, his arms immediately circling you as he pulls you against him. His bare chest is warm on your cold nose, and your tears slide easily over his skin. Your shaky sobs are caught in the hollow of his collarbone, and his hand rubs soothingly over your back. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong? A nightmare?”

You manage a nod, and Zen hums. The rumbling vibration is soothing, like the purr of a cat, not that you’d ever compare him to that; not to his face, at least. He waits patiently, pressing kisses to your temple and whispering reassurances that are lost in your hollow gasps.

When the tears finally ease, you are the first to pull away. Although he lets you lean back against the headrest, Zen refuses to let go of your hand. His thumb rubs circles into your palm, his fingers locked with yours and offering a reassuring squeeze every few moments.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers, blinking until all traces of sleep are lost from his eyes. At your hesitation, he pushes himself further upright and slants his body towards you, proving his eagerness to hear your troubles despite the late hour.

You swallow and sigh unsteadily. “I… had a bad dream.”

“What was it about, prince(ss)?”

“...you.”

Zen’s eyes widen, his brow creasing into a dint of concern in his forehead. “Me?”

You manage a shaky smile and nod. “Y-yeah. I dreamed that…” You swallow, the words sticking in your throat like dry bread. “...that we were never together. And that you were with someone who… wasn’t me. And— and you loved her so much, and— and we were friends, so I just had to watch you with her and there wasn’t even anything I could do because you were so happy and that’s all I could ever want for you and—”

“Oh, honey…” Zen breathes, drawing you back into his arms. You let him, relaxing into his embrace as he peppers you with kisses; one to the crown of your head, one to your cheek, your nose, and finally, your lips. “Baby, I love you, okay? You. And only you. I could never be with someone else, okay, honey? You’re it for me. I’d never want to be with anyone if they’re not you. I would never choose someone over you, okay? Never, ever, ever.”

“R-really?”

“Mm-hm. Really. M’kay?”

Tentatively, you nod, and a sad smile crosses Zen’s face.

“I mean it, honey. I’m yours, forever, alright? I’m right here next to you, babe. Always. Okay?”

You can’t hide your tiny, tearful smile. “Okay.”

Zen smiles, genuinely this time. “Good,” he murmurs, raising his hand to rest on your cheek. He doesn’t have to reach far—your body presses close to his, close enough that you can feel his heart beating through the thin fabric of your shirt, the last barrier between you.

“I love you, Hyun,” you mumble, nestling your face into the crook of his neck. He smells like soap and heat, like the sun personified, shining just for you. A soft exhale whistles through his nose, and the sound of his breathing right next to you is the most precious gift you could ever wish for.

“And I love you, babe.” His lips touch your ear, his quiet words a whispered vow no-one else would ever gain the pleasure of hearing. Hyun brushes the hair from your face, cupping your hot cheeks and leaning in to place a kiss to your sleepy smile. Soft lips and rolling tongues, mint toothpaste and warmth, warmth, warmth.

The kiss is only short, but it carries with it a promise of many more; of a long life, a long love. Of forever.

“Goodnight, prince(ss). I’ll see you in my dreams.”

__________

if u liked... pls consider... reblogging and... mayhaps commenting? 🥺👉👈

#mystic messenger #mysme headcanons #mysme zen #hyun ryu #zen x reader #mm zen #zen x mc #hyun ryu x reader #hyun ryu x mc #mysme fanfic #mysme imagine

202 notes · View notes

batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

The Other Lane

Summary: You are visiting your sister in Metropolis, and you find yourself in need of the Man of Steel

Word Count: 2194

Warnings: None. Just Fluff

A/N: I could never see Superman with anyone but Lois, but I was tempted to write a Superman fanfic. If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :)

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek

Panic surged to life inside you when you opened your eyes to take in the view. The view would have been beautiful, with all of Metropolis stretched out underneath you. It would have been, that is, if you weren’t dangling over the edge of a building with not much stopping you from falling. As you spun, hanging from a single cable attached to a crane arm, you got another glimpse of your captor. The maniacal Lex Luthor stood at the controls for the crane, laughing as his eyes searched the sky.

So, this is what your parents had always been worried about. They had always seemed so nervous when you suggested visiting your sister in the big city. They always made it seem like she wouldn’t have time to see you because she would be busy with work. That was the Lanes for you, dedicated to their work to the point of missing out on family time. Of course, you had seen the news and learned it was because of the high crime rate in Metropolis. Even innocent bystanders were likely to be injured by falling debris as Superman defended the city from yet another villain.

You knew this was possibly the end of the line for you. You snorted at your unintended pun, doing another rotation on the cable. You refused to scream, which at first annoyed Lex, but he soon gave up on trying to get you to. Thankfully. If he had kept up his antics of pretending to let you fall, you would have unleashed the scream that had coiled in your chest when he first strapped you to the crane arm.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

Facing out to the city again, you caught sight of a tiny dot on the horizon. Hope leapt in your chest, but you stamped it down. It was night. Anything could be causing a blip on the horizon. It could be as simple as a plane coming in for a landing at the airport. If it was daytime, you could have convinced yourself it was a bird. It could be just a light on the top of a skyscraper, blinking.

But it was shooting closer at an alarming speed.

“Let’s see if he can get here in time.” Lex’s voice rang out as he caught sight of what you were looking at. “I hope Lois mourns you, and it throws him off his game. I have big plans.”

Bang!

And suddenly you were weightless. The scream that had been waiting to be released ripped from your throat as you went into an unstable free fall, your feet flipping over your head several times. You struggled to stabilize yourself, but since your arms were still tied to your side, you had no control. The wind rushing around you was deafening, adding to your disorientation. The ground was rushing toward you faster than you anticipated, though you didn’t know what else you had expected when you started your fall. As you caught glimpses of it making its way closer and closer, you laughed as you realized ‘they’ were right, and the falling wasn’t so bad, as odd as the sensation was. It was the last foot that was going to suck.

Abruptly you stopped and were making an ascent. So abruptly, in fact, that the lunch you had had hours ago threatened to come back up. You were extremely glad you managed to keep a hold on your stomach’s contents when you realized why you were not dead on the sidewalk, another statistic to horrify your parents with. You were cradled in Superman’s protective arms against his chest, the logo emblazoned on the front of his outfit catching your eye immediately.

He flew you a safe distance away from the building you had just been dropped from, setting you down in a park. He kept you steady while you got your land legs back, concern written all over his face. He made quick work of the rope that still wound around your torso, freeing your arms. Before you could think to thank him, he was gone again in a whoosh that messed up your hair worse than it had already been.

Stunned, you stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where he had been. It took a minute for you to come back to yourself, trying to sort through everything that had just happened in the matter of minutes. Lois was going to freak.

Lois!

Frantically, you patted your pockets, surprised and grateful that the rope that had been holding you had stopped your phone from falling out of your pocket as you fell. You ignored the missed calls from your parents; they didn’t need to know what had just happened to you. Thumbing your sister’s name, you waited anxiously until she answered.

“Leslie?” Lois could finally breathe now that she knew her little sister was safe. Then the anger set in. “Where have you been? Clark and I have been looking all over for you! When you say you are just going to run up the street for a Starbucks, that’s what I expect you to do!”

“Lois… Lois…” You tried a few times to interject, but decided it was best to just let her run out of steam. You knew she wasn’t actually mad at you, and that this was coming from a place of love and concern. You waited a moment after she stopped ranting to see if she was finally done, before you spoke up. “Lex Luthor wanted to test Superman’s reflexes and decided to use me as bait. He was trying to see at what height Superman wouldn’t make it.”

“WHAT!” Lois’ shrill voice echoed around your skull, and you realized you probably could have delivered the news a little more gently. You winced as you heard her panicked breathing on the other end of the phone. “Where are you?”

You looked around. You weren’t from Metropolis, and you had been too busy when Superman had dropped you off here to ask him where you were. There were trees and a nice bike path, if you listened hard enough you could hear a fountain splashing somewhere to your right. But that was it. It seemed like every other park you had visited in the city on your trip.

“A park.” That was the best you could come up with, spinning around in a circle, trying to find anything that might give Lois a clue. “I don’t know which one.”

“Leslie?” You spun, on high alert, toward the person saying your name. You supposed you would be jumpy for a while after what just happened to you. You took a deep breath when you saw your sister’s boyfriend on the path, concern written all over his face.

“Is that Clark?” Lois asked, straining to hear what was happening on your end of the line. “Put him on.”

“It’s for you.” You hold out your cellphone to Clark as he steps closer to you. He takes it from you, glancing at the screen before putting it to his ear. You shrug, still looking around the park. It seemed odd that Clark would happen to be in the same random park as you.

You eyed him suspiciously while he talked to your sister in a quiet voice, obviously trying to keep the conversation private. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t decide if that’s because Lois had sent you a million pictures of him since they started dating, so you were used to his face, or if it was something else. You had always thought he was good looking in a dorky kind of way, and always wondered what he would look like without his glasses on, but this was the first time you had met him, so you didn’t want to be too forward and freak him out. He was good for your sister, and you didn’t want to have a bad relationship with him if he was going to stick around. And if the looks those two shared were anything to go by, he definitely would be sticking around.

“Lois is ordering dinner. You up for Chinese?” Clark drew your attention from your inner monologue and back to what was happening around you. Your face broke out in a huge smile at the mention of Chinese food. You loved spring rolls. Clark chuckled, speaking into the phone again. “I think that’s a yes.”

“So how did you find me?” You asked when Clark handed you your phone back. He adjusted his messenger bag that was slung over one shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was slightly uncomfortable.

“The apartment is just on the other side of the park.” He pointed through the trees where you caught a glimpse of an apartment building lit up in the night. “I was taking a shortcut through the park on my way back from looking for you.”

“Oh.” You looked around again. Now that you knew where you were, you realized the park was familiar as you had spent a couple hours earlier that day sitting on the bench to the side of the path, enjoying a coffee. “I guess it looks different in the day.”

Clark chuckled again as you both turned to head back to the apartment building. You fought the urge to tease him about his shy smile. You didn’t know him well enough for that yet. You wiggled your arms, still trying to get the feeling of the rope out of your mind as you followed the winding path through the darkened park.

“This shortcut isn’t really safe, is it?” You asked, eyeing the bushes lining the path. You couldn’t help it. Your safety felt violated after how easily Lex had taken you from that Starbucks. Clark shrugged as you continued down the path. “Clark, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Clark nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. He didn’t look too uncomfortable with your request, so you decided it would be okay to ask.

“Am I too trusting?” You bit your lip, not sure you wanted to know the answer now that the question was floating in the air between you. When he didn’t respond right away, you panicked and began ranting. “It’s just Lois has always been the braver one and has always been willing to do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of things. I like to believe people are who they say they are. And I worry that that is why Lex was able to get a hold of me so easily. If that’s the case, I need to know, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I find your trust endearing.” Clark admitted, cutting off any further rant from you. He adjusted his messenger bag again. “It’s nice that not everyone out there is pessimistic and cynical. The world needs people like you, who believe in the good of others.”

You stayed silent as you kept walking, trying to digest his words. They made you feel a little better about yourself, and what had happened. But you didn’t want to always rely on Superman to save you. You wanted to know how to stay safe, so that the predicament you were just in didn’t happen again.

“Lex Luthor would have just figured out a different way to get you.” Clark’s voice was low as though he didn’t want to startle you. “I know that isn’t the most comforting thought, but there wasn’t anything you did that made him pick you as his victim. You mean something to Lois, which means you mean something to Superman.”

“Does that bug you?” You asked. The question had been floating around in your mind for months now. One of the news clips you saw while at home, had shown Superman saving Lois. There was no denying the look on his face when he looked at her. Nor could anyone deny she felt the same about him. But here was Clark, and Lois was very much smitten with him. It was weird.

“It used to. But I’ve come to terms with it.” Clark shrugged.

“You are a better man than most, Clark Kent.” You laughed, offering him a genuine smile. You could see the park exit up ahead, relief flooding you at the sight. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Lois is over the moon about you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Clark laughed, taking his glasses off to wipe a smudge off the lens. He caught your eye, making sure you understood what you were seeing.

Your mouth fell open as you realized what Clark just admitted with the seemingly innocent move. You snapped it closed just as quickly, looking around to make sure you were alone. Clark replaced his glasses back on his nose, attempting to wink at you.

“Don’t worry.” You promised. There was no way you were going to tell anyone and ruin what he and Lois had. You loved your sister too much to do that to her. And Clark deserved his anonymity in a city that would never give him peace otherwise.

#Superman fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfic #superman fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

selenaurrr · 4 years

Text

Rules Are Made To Be Broken

PAIRING: Matt Casey x Reader

WARNING(S): Smut (18+), Domination, Submission & Intensity

—

They spent the long drive home largely in silence. She rested her hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing gently, imploring him to look over at her. Instead, he kept his calm blue eyes fixated on the road, his expression unchanging. She wanted to plead with him, kiss his chin and cheek and apologize profusely until he took her in her arms and hugged her close. She knew this was not an option, however. All she could do now to mitigate her fate was to respect his request for her to keep quiet until they got home.

She never took her eyes off him, however, her free hand clenching and unclenching nervously. Her anxiety gnawed away at her insides, almost making her skin crawl. At the same time, however, there was the smallest part of her that was curious, almost hopeful, as to what was in store.

From the moment it happened, she knew she had gone too far. She looked to him instantly, watching his smile drop from his face, and seeing the stern look appear in his eyes. In truth, she was mortified, never wanting to go against him or disobey his requests. It had been a simple one. They were attending a friend’s engagement party - a formal affair, by all counts. They were both dressed accordingly - she in a black dress, a touch tighter than may be appropriate, and black heels to match, and him in a dark suit and tie.

All he had asked of her was to remain respectful - no drunken incidents. She had been careful to watch how much she drank, but as the night went on, her count started to slip away from her. Had she had three drinks already, or was it four? She attempted to remain graceful and respectful in accordance with his wishes, though the alcohol was clearly having an effect on her. And then, it happened.

They stood around in a circle, her by his side, leaning affectionately against his arm. He was telling a story to the gathered group - ever the center of attention, he was. He reached the climax of his story, and even though she had heard it before, she was overcome with a fit of tipsy laughter. She laughed and laughed, and found herself growing dizzy. Suddenly, she lost her grip on him and stumbled sideways, crashing into a passing waiter and knocking a tray of drinks from his hand and onto the floor. The resultant crash drew every eye to her - to them - and she knew instantly that this meant trouble. Ever the gentleman, however, he leaned down and lifted her to his feet, barely masking the stern glare he was giving her. His mask disappeared for a moment, however, and was replaced with the sweet, caring face she adored, as he checked her over to make sure she was okay.

“Didn’t hurt your head did you, baby? You’re alright. Up we go.” He quickly whisked her from the building, making sure to apologize on her behalf to the hosts and bid them farewell. They strode in silence towards the car, her head still spinning both from the alcohol and the fall. Despite the sullen look on his face, he still held her close when he felt her shiver, his arm pulling her against his chest.

They reached the car, and he led her to the passenger side. Stepping in alongside her, he buckled her seat belt, turned to her, and exhaled slowly.

“One thing. I only asked for one thing tonight,” He breathed in a dejected tone. He let the silence hang in the air for a few minutes, until she finally worked up the nerve to protest.

“But I -”

“I don’t want to hear it. You promised me you wouldn’t drink too much. You promised me you wouldn’t cause a scene. You know what happens when you break a promise, missy.” With that last sentence, his eyes rose to meet her, and mixed with that stern, reproachful face was a tiny flash of something else. Excitement? Desire? She thought, she could not be sure. Her attentions were focused solely on listening closely to each word he said. She carefully considered her response, and begun.

“I’m sorry about what happen tonight.” To match him, she met his eyes on the last sentence, and her somber demeanor cracked for just a moment, letting through her eager side just a touch. He offered a half-smile, not yet willing to break his stern expression.

“Let’s just get home.”

She stepped out of the car and into the night air, the fear in her stomach now giving way to a kind of nervous anticipation. His silence and the long drive home had sobered her up, and when he offered his arm to walk her to the door she accepted, not because she needed it, but because she liked the feel of his toned arms underneath the fabric of his suit. She shivered again as a cool breeze blew past her bare legs, and begun to grow eager to get inside.

For more reasons than one, maybe? She though to herself, and smiled inwardly.

As she crossed the threshold, she felt his hand on her shoulder, gripping firmly as he closed the door behind them. Even though he stood a pace behind her, she was acutely aware of the fact that he was guiding her, leading her to where he wanted her to go. A lump grew in her throat as they paced slowly towards the couch. He removed his hand from her shoulder, and seated himself in front of her. She shifted her gaze to his face, and she saw it. That casual half-smile that denoted the fact that he was in his ‘Dom’ mood. She knew now that everything he said was of critical importance - every request he made was a demand, and she must follow it precisely and quickly.

“Shoes off. Place them by the doorway. Your panties, too.”

His voice was calm and even, and there was not a hint of malice or anger to it. All the same, she moved quickly to the doorway and removed her heels. Turning to him, she hiked her dress around her waist and hooked her thumbs in the side of her underwear - a lacy black, almost see though pair, that she was hoping he’d be pleasantly surprised to see tonight. Instead, he just watched impassively as she lowered them to the ground and placed them atop her shoes. She began to lower her skirt when he interrupted, his voice cutting through the silence in the room like a knife.

“Leave it where it is. Stand by my side.”

Her pulse quickened, and her mind began to race. She was keenly aware that her lower body was bare and exposed to him, and she began to grow nervous about what he had planned. All the same, she felt herself slowly stepping forward until she stood against his legs, her dress now folded up against her waist. She felt his eyes travel up the length of her long, slender legs, taking in every inch of her skin, every goosebump raised from the intensity of his gaze. His eyes traveled further until they met hers, and that same mischievous glint was present in his stare. Nonetheless, he kept the stern, commanding edge to his voice.

“Lay down on my stomach, over my lap. Rest your head and arms on the couch beside me.” She looked at him, confused at first, not knowing what was to come. “What are -” She managed to get out, before he cut her off. Gruffly, almost annoyed, he interrupted her.

“I said, lay down on your stomach. Now.”

The hint of anger in his voice almost made her jump, and she dropped immediately to her knees, pulling herself over his lap. She lay awkwardly, head on the couch, her stomach resting on his knees. Annoyed, he grunted and placed one hand under her thighs, forcefully pushing her, until her crotch rested against his knees and her legs dangled behind her. The intensity of such a surprising shift caused her to gasp, and the feel of his fingers on the bare skin of her thighs sent a rush of sensation through her. Thankfully, her slight moan was muffled by the fact her head was buried into the couch.

Her head was swimming again, as if she were still intoxicated. Thoughts raced through her brain. Is this where he wants me? What is he doing back there? Can I turn around, or will that make him angry? Oh god, he can see everything right now.

Even as her mind raced, however, one thought stuck with her, returning to her mind again and again. Just a few weeks ago, she had broached the subject of spanking to him. She had expressed her curiosity, but made clear that it was something she had never tried before. Could this be... Will he...

His voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you missy? You made me a promise that you wouldn’t drink too much and make a scene, and that’s what happened. Do you understand”

She nodded her head, not daring to turn and face him. “I do.” He exhaled slowly, lost in his own thoughts. For a moment, he allowed himself to break character, and leaned down close, his breath hot against her ear. “If at any stage you’re not comfortable and need a break, just say ‘yellow light’. If you want to stop altogether, ‘red light’. Got it?”

When she nodded back and replied with “Uh-huh,” He could practically hear the smile on her face. He returned back to his sitting position, and settled instantly back into his domineering persona. “Now, let’s make sure you learn your lesson.”

His last words echoed in her ear, and she found herself holding her breath as the following silence permeated the room. Her world was the couch in front of her, the warmth of his knees against her crotch, the sound of his breathing. Like a calm before the storm, her senses felt heightened, and even the feel of her tight dress against her skin felt constricting, confining. Suddenly, it happened.

WHACK

She heard it before she felt it. The abrupt, sharp crack echoed in her ears, her eyes widening in surprise. Seconds after, the sensation struck her like a bolt of lighting. She could feel the exact imprint of his palm against her rapidly-reddening ass cheek, complete with the ring on his ring finger. Her body stiffened and her back arched as the stinging pain rocketed through her, quickly being replaced with a near-burning sensation. His palm lifted from her skin, and the burning intensified.

She let out her first cry at this stage, her mouth opening wide unbidden, and a plaintive yelp escaped her lips. Almost immediately, she began to ramble.

“Yellow light! Yellow light, yellow light!” Again, all pretense was dropped, and his lips were back behind her head.

“What is it, baby?” The stern edge was gone, replaced instead with a caring, concerned tone. She laughed. “Take off your damn ring, you goof ball!” He paused, and looked down at his hand. Laughing, he removed the ring and leaned back in, planting a kiss on the back of neck.

“Sorry baby, gone now. Shall we?” She nodded again, almost eager this time.

He straightened, and again fell into his sullen persona that he enjoyed ever so much. “Now, where were we?” Again, he let his words hang in the air as he admired her round, toned behind, the way it met the curve of her long legs. He enjoyed the sight of her pale skin, one cheek turning a dark shade of pink in the shape of his hand.

He had to suppress a chuckle when he saw a patch of deeper red around the ring finger - clearly, his ring had done some damage. He raised his hand again, waiting for her breathing to settle. Her back rose and fell, quickly at first, but soon settling into short, shallow, even breaths. Seeing his chance, he struck again.

WHACK

Her body rose and fell, her face pressing hard into the couch. All the same, he could hear her muffled scream, and reveled in the way it drew out, ending in a moan. From the way her back arched and her hips wiggled, he knew that she was enjoying this. The notion made him smile, though he reminded himself that this was not for her pleasure. He leaned in close and growled at her.

“Each time you feel my palm strike your ass, you’re going to tell me what you did to deserve it. Loud and clear. If I can’t hear you, or if you don’t make sense, you’re going to get five more. Do you understand?”

The desperate nod and the tinge of fear in her “Yes,” Made him smile wickedly, and his cock throbbed in response, pressed tight against her stomach, only a few layers of clothing separating them. He lifted his palm, taking aim, and...

WHACK

The ferocity of this blow took her by surprise, and her mind went blank momentarily. Her eyes bulged wide, and her mouth open in a silent scream. She sensed his impatience, and quickly began to stammer and mumble.

“I... I got, got drunk and made a scene.” She quickly added, winching from the sharp pain radiating from her backside. She felt the warmth emanating from his handprints on her ass, as well as another warmth - deep in her core, spreading throughout her body. She felt the dampness between her legs, and worried for a second that she would ruin his suit pants. This though was quickly wiped from her mid, however, when...

WHACK

Another blow, harder than the one before. She gasped for breath, and quickly repeated her offence, bracing herself for the onrush of pain as the sharp noise echoed in her ears and in her brain. As intense the pain was, it could not compare to the rush of pleasure that followed each spank. Her skin was on fire, every fiber of her being alight with sensation. Her breathing was hoarse and ragged now, and despite the pretense of punishment, she could not remember a time when she had been quite this turned on.

She allowed herself to moan deeply, pressing herself into his lap, delighting in the feel of his stiff cock hard against her crotch. She loved knowing he was enjoying this as much as she was. She felt like she was floating, only vaguely aware of anything but the feel of his palm on her ass, his body warm against her. She could almost hear his palm whistling through the air as it descended again.

WHACK

Her body jolted forward, and tears sprang to her eyes, contrasting against the broad smile on her smile. In a lust-soaked voice, she moaned again.

“I deserve to be punished.” The words flew unbidden from her mouth, stemming entirely from the ravenous beast now awoken inside her. She froze, her body taut, unsure of how he would react to this. Again, an ominous silence hung in the air. She took this opportunity to wipe the tears from her eyes, and could hear his calm, even breathing, in stark contrast to her own.

Finally, he broken the silence. “That was your five. How are you feeling?” The soft, caring tone was back in his voice, and no trace of the stern man remained, at least for now. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently lifted her off his lap, ushering her onto her knees on the couch next to him.

Looking him in the eyes, she took a few moments to breathe before finally managing to speak. “It was... indescribable. So much pain, but it felt so good. Can we do this again?”

She added the last with a playful smile and poke of her tongue, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He leaned in, and pressed his lips against hers, their desire for each other clearly evident in the hunger with which their tongues sought out their counterparts, their hands clawing desperately at each other’s neck and shoulders.

All pretense of him holding any kind of power or dominion over her was quickly forgotten, as she eagerly pushed herself against him, her hard nipples straining against the tight fabric of her black dress. She savored the taste of his lips as she straddled him, moaning into his mouth, driven solely by her want for him, her need for him. She leaned back and began to hastily undo his belt, sliding it free and holding it up.

Meeting his gaze, she smirked and said, “Next time, you’re using this!” He simply laughed and nodded in response, too distracted by her hands eagerly unzipping his fly. She slid her hand in, and her eyes lit up as she extracted his cock. Clearly, he had been just as turned on by the spanking as she had been, and she was trilled to feel his warm skin in the palm of her hand, thick and stiff and ready for her.

She locked her eyes up upon his, and began to lower herself down towards him. He snuck a glance down, and saw her thighs, slick with her arousal. He gasped as he felt the head of his cock brush against her lips for the first time, and a shiver ran through his body. The sight of her gripping him in her palm, lowering herself onto him, teasing the both of them, drove him wild. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab her by the shoulders, to thrust into her and impale her, but he knew she was enjoying this far too much to interrupt.

Her mouth was open in a serene half-smile, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Her hips bucked back and forth, sliding the head of his cock through her lips again and again, never quite entering her. Each time he brushed her clit, her body would tense and shudder, her eyes jolting forward and an inadvertent moan escaping her lips. From her shallow and uneven breathing, they both knew this teasing could not continue much longer.

Finally, it happened. She angled her hips forward just a fraction, and with a subtle movement, the head of his cock slipped inside her. Both of their eyes went wide, and neither moved for what felt like an eternity. His mouth was open in a silent scream, the feeling of her warm, inviting wetness almost overwhelming. Similarly, she was in ecstasy. Her body had been in desperate need since the spanking began, the ache in the pit of her stomach growing rapidly into an intense desire to feel him, to be filled by him. Finally, she had him where she wanted him.

She began to lower herself further onto him, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. She could feel each and every ridge, every vein, every inch of him as he slid deeper inside her. It was one long, slow, deliberate movement, and she was not fully satisfied until she was pressed against him, and his cock was buried inside her to the hilt. Her arousal meant there was virtually no resistance, but all the same she felt full and tight and complete. She had time right where she wanted him, and he was where he belonged.

He couldn’t help but groan her name when he felt her settle against his crotch. He could still feel the radiating warmth from her ass against his thighs, even through his pants, and the mental image of her bare, pale ass reddening with his handprints excited him all the more. When she began to rock her hips, her muscles squeezed his cock so exquisitely that he feared he may not be able to last much longer. In response, he began to thrust against her, in time with her own ministrations. Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, but the more his lust for her grew, the more her body jolted and bounced above him.

As his pace grew more intense, he began to grunt and moan in time with each thrust, growing more animalistic by the second. She placed both arms on his shoulder to steady herself, surrendering to his desires. His hands moved to her hips and he gripped her tightly, holding her in place as he thrust into her again and again. He held her in such a way where he could lift her up, draw out almost to the tip, before thrusting deep inside her again, pulling her down on top of him in tandem. Soon, her own moans began to drown out his, and her head bounced from side to side with each thrust. As he settled into a feverish pace, his desire for her grew exponentially. He reached upwards and tugged roughly on her dress, grabbing a handful of her bra underneath and nearly ripping the fabric. Her breasts sprang free, exposed to him for the first time this evening.

Eagerly, he leaned forward and took one of her nipples in his mouth, suckling and biting gently as she bounced on top of him. She threw her head back and whimpered loudly, one arm clinging to the back of his neck, cradling him against her breasts. His tongue lapped eagerly at her nipple, savoring the taste of her. With each noise she made, each jolt of her body, he felt himself draw closer to the edge, and he knew he could not last much longer.

Her moans had now turned into gasps and yelps, each time her body bounced down against him. Her entire mind was focused on the pleasure building in her core, and she too knew that her orgasm was fast approaching. She leaned in close, nibbling on his ear, whispering in a husky voice.

“Is this what you do to bad girls, is it? You pull them over your knee, spank their ass until they’re soaking wet, then fuck them until they cum so hard they scream?” He moaned loudly, muffled by her chest against his lips. Smiling lewdly to herself, impressed by the filthy thoughts springing to mind, she continued.

“Well, if this what bad girls who don’t listen to your rules get, I might just have to be bad much more often. Perhaps even every night of the week...”

He had never heard her utter quite such filthy things. His mind blanked, part from shock, part from the sheer arousal of hearing her in such a wanton mood. His pace intensified, slamming into her with such force that the slap of her thighs against his crotch echoed through the room with the same intensity as her spanking earlier. He buried his head back against the couch, and let out a low, guttural groan as he felt his orgasm approach. His hands clutched and clawed at her waist, and he pulled her down against him tightly, impaling her on his cock, thrusting deep inside her.

Finally, he felt himself pass the point of no return. His mouth sprung wide open, eyes rolling back into his head as his cock began to twitch and pulsate deep inside her. His groan turned into a wordless cry as he let go, emptying himself deep inside her, his nails digging into her skin, holding onto her for dear life. The pain from his nails in her skin barely registered to her, as she was entirely focused on the feeling of him exploding inside her. He felt his warm seed flood into her, filling her even more than before. She bit her lip and held her breath as she felt her own orgasm crash over her, in tandem with his. Her body tensed and stiffened, and her legs began to shake and quiver.

She felt that familiar tingling, building in the pit of her stomach since they had arrived home, begin to radiate outwards, flowing through her body and filling her with pure ecstasy. She attempted to cry out his name, but she too was unable to form a coherent sentence, simply crying out in shock and pleasure as wave of orgasm crashed over her. Her cries and moans grew in volume as her orgasm continued, and she buried her face into his shoulder, biting down roughly through the fabric to muffle her own cries.

The room grew quiet, save for their ragged breathing. She lay slumped against him, his cock still inside her, neither wanting to move an inch. They lay in silence, simply enjoying the warmth of each other, basking in the afterglow. After a time, she lifted herself from him, and curled up in his lap, not bothering to lower her dress or to zip his fly. He began to stroke her hair, and she sighed contentedly. She looked up at him, and began to giggle softly, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“And what are you laughing at, baby girl?” He asked, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face.

She looked away shyly, laughing again before whispering, “Can you... Can you make a ‘request’ of me every time we go out? The harder it is to follow, the better.” With this, she looked up, and craned her neck to view her own reddened backside. “And five isn’t enough. You’d better make it at least ten next time.”

#chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fan fiction #matt casey smut #fan fictions #rules are made to be broken**#my fanfic stuff

227 notes · View notes

olliepig · 3 years

Text

Hog-Malarkey part 2

The conclusion of @willow-salix and I’s not so short New Year fic for you all. Hope you enjoy it!

The first part (posted yesterday) can be found here

Or of you’d prefer, the full thing is available on AO3 here.

************

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…” the assembled crowd chanted as they watched a large clock start counting down the seconds to midnight. The Tracy party had managed to stay huddled together as they were pushed and shoved from all sides as the crowd surged forwards like salmon swimming upstream, towards the doors that led to the courtyard outside.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

“Gah,” Gordon yelped as someone trod on his foot and tried to remove him from the protective bosom of his family. He’d never admit it but he was pathetically grateful that Virgil had grabbed his hand and was refusing to let go.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd screamed in unison, the loud cheering deafening to the ears. All around them couples embraced, indulging in many kisses for luck or hugging their neighbours. The two couples that were actually in attendance wasted no time in joining in, continuing the custom, their lips meeting as the air was filled with the noise of fireworks exploding overhead, painting the sky with colours.

“Happy New Year,” Scott murmured to Cat, holding her close for a moment longer before releasing her and turning to pull Alan into a hug.

Following the crowd they had found themselves out in the cold night air, staring up at what had previously been a rather dull sky. A breeze had picked up over the course of the evening, blowing the clouds away and leaving a perfect night for the celebrations that were going on around them.

Whichever way they looked, the sky was filled with colour, the explosions filling their field of vision as the shockwaves hit them in the chest, leaving them slightly breathless.

“Get me out of this crowd,” John hissed in Selene’s ear, nudging her to get her to move. Rolling her eyes, she took his hand and led the way, winding through the crowd, smacking at an errant hand that tried to pet his head again.

“Stop ruffling my husband!” she yelled at the innocent old man that had unfortunately stepped in front of the tiny scottish lady who had dared to touch the Tracy goods.

Dragging him away she found an enclosed little nook where they could still see the fireworks but were pretty much out of sight of the crowd and out of temptation range of anyone who wished to feel him up again.

“Thank you,” he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder, tugging her into his arms. She wasn’t fooled, she knew he was using her as a human shield. The romance astounded her sometimes. “I was worried that they would succeed in their quest to rip a piece off me if we’d hung around there much longer.”

“It’s your own fault for being so good looking in your highland finery and possessing such a beautiful head of hair,” she answered, smoothing down said hair, attempting to finger comb it back into some semblance of its usual neatly swept style.

“Yes, how dare I wear clothes that were forced upon me and look semi decent in them, what a scoundrel I am.”

“Total scoundrel,” she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Lower.”

Selene lifted one eyebrow at his demanding tone. “Well, you do look really handsome tonight, so I suppose one little kiss couldn’t hurt.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling against them when his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer while backing up further into their corner.

“I think I neglected to tell you just how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Why, Mr Tracy, how scandalous, you really are a scoundrel of the highest order. And me, a sweet, young, innocent...stop laughing!”

“Sorry, let me make it up to you.”

Try as she might she couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up inside her as he captured her lips again.

“Where’ve John and Selene gone?” Scott asked, realising that two of the group were conspicuous by their absence, his eyes sweeping the crowd in a vain bid to try and find them.

“I have no idea, but if they’ve ditched us then I think they’ve got the right idea,” replied Cat with a glint in her eye, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the crowd, keen to find a similarly secluded spot where she could get him to herself for the first time since they arrived.

As they rounded the corner, safely away from prying eyes, she felt a tug on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Turning in surprise, Scott slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her as his warm lips found hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he grinned, pulling back to meet her eyes, the reflection of the fireworks making them seem to dance in the night. “Have you got any idea how good you look in that dress?”

“Probably about as good as you do in that kilt,” Cat shot back with a smile, reaching up to kiss him again, more gently this time, pressing herself against him as she savoured the moment of calm that they had managed to find in amongst the craziness of the night.

“Touche,” Scott laughed, kissing her forehead before spinning her round and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her waist again as they quietly watched the fireworks high above them, enjoying the sensation of her fingers intertwining with his own.

***

“Remind me again why we came with couples?” Gordon groused as a quick head count revealed that their party was missing four members.

“Because you invited us?” Virgil shrugged, unconcerned by his missing brothers. They were adults and generally the most sensible ones he possessed, so he wasn’t that inclined to worry.

“They always do this, sneak off like that, every time we go somewhere,” Alan said, joining in with the bitching.

“They’ll be back soon enough,” Virgil soothed. “And frankly, I’d rather they sneaked off than putting on a display in front of everyone every time.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Alan said, pulling a face. “Nobody needs to see that.”

“Nobody needs to see what?” Scott asked, reappearing behind them, his arm securely around Cat.

“Nothing,” Alan replied quickly, hoping that the blush that he could feel creeping up his neck wasn’t visible in the dark.

“What now?” Gordon asked as the last firework exploded in the sky with a deafening bang.

“Back inside I guess,” Virgil shrugged, watching as the other guests filed back into the hall, their voices seeming muffled in his ears after the assault that the noise of the fireworks had waged on them.

“Seems as good an idea as any,” Selene agreed, materialising with John. “It’s bloody freezing out here so I’m going in even if you lot want to stay behind.”

Back in the hall, the group were mystified to find that instead of returning to their tables, the guests had formed a large circle around the dancefloor.

“Please tell me this isn’t some kind of dance?” John whispered to Selene, clinging tighter to her like she could anchor him to the spot, his eyes darting here and there like he expected a stampede of old ladies to rampage towards him intent on grabbing any piece of him they could reach.

Selene patted his arm where it was hooked around her waist, lacing their fingers for extra support.

“I don’t think it’s a dance,” Cat said, watching the proceedings.

All around the circle people reached out to take the hand of the person next to them.

“No idea,” Cat shrugged but joined in anyway, moving into the gap that someone made for them. Seeing the opportunity, Selene dragged John in too, who glared at the others until they too, admitted defeat.

The sound of bagpipes starting made them all jump but the familiar tune soon made the girls realise exactly what was going on and they joined in, singing along as best they could, stumbling over the slightly unfamiliar version of the lyrics as their arms were swung to and fro, forward and backwards in time to the music.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!”

Even though they were used to the English version rather than the original and more traditional Scottish, it was still comforting and familiar enough to make them smile and, when they accidentally slipped into the English and the Scottish man next to Scott still smiled at them, they relaxed and simply enjoyed. This wasn’t about getting the words perfect, it was about the celebration, the keeping of a tradition that spanned centuries.

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

Guests all around the circle moved as one, letting go of the hands they were holding to cross their arms in front of them.

“And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine.”

“What are they doing?” Scott asked quietly, turning to Cat and Selene only to find them grinning. Cat offered her right hand to him, while Selene accepted her left. Scott slipped his hand into her’s, finding his free hand being grabbed by a happy looking drunk man beside him.

“And we'll tak a right gude willie waught

For auld lang syne!”

Selene flapped her left hand at John who groaned, knowing he’d never get away with escaping now. Not having a clue what he was doing he copied her moves, crossing his arms and taking her offered left hand in his right, leaving his left hand free for the next participant, who happened to be Alan.

Scott, seeing what was going on, took the hint and joined in on Cat’s other side, catching her hand,

“I still have no clue what is going on,” Alan complained as Virgil’s meaty hand engulfed his own.

“It’s Auld Lang Syne,” Cat told him.

“It’s what now?”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Selene repeated, joining in the conversation. “Watch and learn, try to keep up.”

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne.”

“Why is everything so weird here?” Alan whispered to Gordon, leaning over Virgil to do so.

“Hey! It’s not weird, it’s tradition!” Selene shot back, rolling her eyes at Cat. “We’re in love with uncultured swines.”

“We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

“Excuse me, in my defense, I didn’t insult it,” John pointed out as Selene and Alan enthusiastically bounced his arms up and down.

“Me neither, so unless you’re in love with someone else, I think you owe us an apology,” Scott grinned, obviously thinking he had won that argument. Little did he know.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Cat deadpanned, keeping her face perfectly straight. “But you had to find out some time, didn’t he Virgil?”

“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,” Selene sang loudly, acting as if she’d heard nothing.

“What?” spluttered the innocent engineer, having been so busy trying to keep up with Alan’s arm bouncing and the song words he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne,” Cat sang along with Selene, ignoring the wheezing laughter coming from Gordon and Alan and John’s soft chuckle.

A loud cheer went up as the music came to its end and everyone let go of their neighbours hands

The girls cracked up laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer, one look at Scott’s indignant scowl breaking their control.

"That was mean,” Scott scolded Cat, trying to stay serious as the girls howled, collapsing into each other's arms, each holding the other up as they laughed hard.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Scott huffed but his lips twitched once, twice and then he cracked.

“Come on, trouble maker,” John hauled Selene away from Cat as the band started a lively song, sacrificing himself in aid of his brother by sweeping her into his arms for a dance.

“That seems like a good idea,” Cat grinned, knowing he couldn’t stay mad at her as she looped her arms around his neck and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

***

“My feet hurt,” Selene whined, lifting one leg and dropping her foot into John’s lap so he could help her.

“You were the one that kept wanting to dance,” John pointed out helpfully, receiving a scowl for his troubles as he unbuckled the thin strap of her shoe and slipped it off, holding out his hand for her other foot.

“It was a party, there was music and drinks and that leads to dancing,” Cat added, coming to her friend’s defence as she returned from the bedroom having retrieved the remains of the champagne from earlier. “Nightcap?”

It had been a tired but happy (and slightly tipsy) party that had wound their way back to the hotel with various degrees of stability, some far more steady on their feet than others. They had collapsed the moment they entered the shared lounge, commandeering every couch and chair available.

Maybe the nightcap had been a bad idea, because although everyone was what Selene called physically tired, they weren’t mentally tired, which led to them helping to polish off the champagne (and a few other drinkables that the minibar provided) and chatting for a few more hours. And so it was rather late, or early depending on how you look at it, when they eventually fell into bed and slept the dreamless sleep of the inebriated.

That inebriation didn’t partner well with a loud knocking that shook the suite door at an hour that none of them cared to be awake to see. Five bedroom doors cracked open and heads poked out to see what the noise was about but nobody was willing to move further, each looking at each other in confusion before focusing on Scott until he took the hint and answered the call.

“Yes?” he croaked as he opened the door, eyeing the smartly dressed member of staff on the other side with suspicion. The world seemed to be spinning quicker than he was used to, and, although he would never admit it, his hand resting on the doorframe was only there partially out of habit.

“Lady Creighton-Ward left instructions for you to be woken in good time for the event this morning, and to that end, I am here with your breakfast,” the concierge informed him, indicating a trolley behind him piled with covered platters.

“OK…” replied a bemused Scott, moving out of the way to allow the man entry, his eyes tracking his every movement as he placed plate after plate of food onto the table, the smell making him feel slightly queasy.

“Does anyone have any idea what event he’s talking about?” Alan asked once they were alone again, piling bacon and sausages onto his plate.

“Nope,” Virgil replied, eyeing the food with suspicion before settling on a large cup of coffee instead. “Gordon? Any ideas?”

“Oh, it might be that swimming thing Penny mentioned?” Gordon mused, trying to get his brain to focus on a half remembered conversation from several weeks before.

“Mmmf?” questioned John, his eyes barely open as he made his way gingerly across the room. Taking a seat at the table, he reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a large cup and cradling it in his hands as he waited for it to cool.

“Yeah, she said there’s some sort of tradition to go for a morning swim on New Year’s Day to clear the hangover,” Gordon continued, feeling more confident now his brain had woken up a little bit.

Scott’s stomach lurched at the thought of bobbing around in a swimming pool. “I think I might give that one a miss this morning, Gords,” he shuddered, reaching for a glass of water to settle the nausea that rolled over him.

“Nnnngh,” groaned John, shoving his coffee aside and resting his forehead on the table.

“I think that means John’s out too,” Alan helpfully translated, taking in John’s now nearly translucent form. “I’m up for it though. Virgil?”

The engineer swirled his remaining coffee in his mug, considering his options carefully. “I’m in,” he eventually declared, the thought of plunging into cool water seeming strangely appealing to him.

John groaned again, shuddering like he was in the last throes of death.

“Alan,” Scott whispered, not wanting to speak louder now that his headache was catching up with him. “Get Sel, will you? I think he needs to go back to bed.”

Alan, as the only mostly sober, bright eyed and bushy tailed one of the five, set his full plate down on the table beside John’s head and jumped up, ignoring the gagging noise that came from his brother when the smell of sausages wafted up his nose.

“SEL!” Alan yelled in through the open bedroom door.

Virgil groaned as the noise drilled into his aching brain. “We could have done that, can you try to be a bit quieter?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” Alan winced, realising that his usual volume probably wasn’t the best option. Snagging a cushion off a chair he took careful aim and threw it at the bed, hitting Selene on the head. “Score!”

A muffled string of curse words floated out of the bedroom, but the sound of rustling sheets and creaking springs announced the arrival of the witch.

“Sup?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes, smearing a little mascara around that she’d neglected to take off the night before.

“John’s dead,” Alan shrugged, going back to his plate, apparently unconcerned by his expired brother.

John lifted a hand weakly, extending his middle finger to point at his brother.

“He seems fine to me,” Selene commented, stealing John’s coffee and taking a sip. Putting the cup down again she lifted her man’s head and pushed on his shoulders to return him to an upright position, holding the cup to his lips. “Babe? Ya good?”

“Such sympathy from my loving wife and family,” he groaned, but took the cup from her and scooted back from the table enough to allow her to perch on his lap. Hotel rooms never had enough chairs.

“At least your loving wife is here and looking after you,” Scott groused, glancing to his bedroom door that remained resolutely closed. “My girlfriend hasn’t even gotten out of bed to see if I’m still breathing. Last she knew there was someone pounding on the door. I could have been kidnapped,” he finished melodramatically to snorts of laughter from Selene.

“That wouldn’t happen,” John assured him, “no one would be stupid enough to want you.”

“Oi,” Cat exclaimed, appearing from the bedroom with perfect timing, wrapping her arms around Scott and leaning over his shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“More misguided.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged, picking up a sausage from the platter on the table and taking a bite before continuing. “And you’re at least partially right. Someone might kidnap him but they’d definitely bring him back again.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Scott protested, clutching his heart. “You wound me.”

“Oh shut up and drink your coffee, you big idiot,” Cat told him, pouring two mugs and pushing one over to him before taking another bite of her sausage..

“I’d keep you,” Selene promised him. “You always sniff out the best snack in any location, you’re a useful asset to have on the team.”

“Can we please stop talking about food!” John yelled, dropping his head back into his hands.

“If no one but Alan wanted food, why did you guys order it?” Selene asked, snagging a slice of toast and laying a piece of bacon on it before folding it in half.

“We didn’t,” Scott replied, tentatively taking a sip of coffee. “It just arrived with instructions that we have to be up for some event this morning.”

Cat and Selene exchanged slightly guilty looks, unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

“What’re you two looking at each other like that for?” Virgil demanded, instantly on alert.

“Us?” Selene squeaked innocently. “No reason, why would there be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason,” John replied, watching them both carefully. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“How much I love you?” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at John.

“Bullshit,” Scott cut in, totally unconvinced at Selene’s attempts at diversion. “Cat? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she squirmed, suddenly finding her coffee very interesting.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Scott pressed, standing and gently running his hand around the small of her back, pulling him into him before kissing her neck where he knew would make her powerless to resist. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Selene rolled her eyes, knowing her partner in crime was lost to her now. Weak ass ballerina.

Sending Selene a look preemptively asking for forgiveness, Cat crumbled. “It’s a costume thing,” she mumbled, hanging her head in shame at how easily she had been bought.

“Nope!” John said, refusing immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Scott agreed as he shook his head firmly, promptly regretting it as his brain seemed to slam against the inside of his skull.

“Costumes? Cool,” Gordon exclaimed, even more enthusiastic for the swim now. “Did you bring them with you?” “What do I get to be?” chimed in Alan, jumping up and eyeing up the door to Cat and Scott’s bedroom as if the costumes might magically appear. "Maybe a superhero."

John’s arms were wrapped around Selene’s waist, holding her on his lap, his head resting on her shoulder, and if the soft snoring was any indication, he wasn’t planning on moving any time soon.

“I think you’re gonna have to do it without him,” she told Gordon.

“Rubbish, it’ll do him good,” Gordon poked his sleepy brother until he roused himself enough to slap his hand away. “Anyway, he’s not really asleep. He’s just pretending because he’s too scared I’ll look better in a costume than him.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Virgil replied doubtfully, stifling a yawn of his own. “He does look pretty tired.”

“Are you besmirching my husband's honour?”

“Oh, big word for so early in the morning,” Scott grinned, needling her just a little bit more, just because he could.

“John,” Selene nudged her almost comatose space man. “All your brothers are picking on us, can I curse them?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Just do it quietly.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what they did to deserve it?”

“Nope, I trust your judgement.”

“You’re going to let your wife fight your battles for you?” Gordon teased.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s no shame in that, is there, Scott?” Cat asked.

“Sure there is. He’s just being a wimp.”

“What is your problem today?” John growled, lifting his head to shoot a squinty eyed glare at Scott.

“It’s just a little swim in a costume and you’re wimping out.”

“I don’t see you agreeing to it.”

“Fine! I’ll do it, there, happy?”

“Fine.”

“God, you men are ridiculous,” Cat groaned, looking at Selene for support, who simply shrugged, more than used to it.

***

“Just a little swim, he said,” Scott hissed, glaring at Gordon.

“Costumes are cool, he said,” John joined in, appearing to have forgotten that Scott was mostly the reason he was there in favour of throwing his own glare at Alan.

Selene and Cat wrapped themselves up tighter in the blanket they were sharing, watching their menfolk as they stood shivering on the riverside, dressed in costumes that they would never have chosen even if they had a gun to their heads.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m not sure Scott has the legs for that tutu,” Selene whispered to Cat.

“Don’t tell him I agreed with you,” Cat laughed, pulling Virgil’s jacket closer around herself under the blanket, shivering against the cold breeze that whipped around them, finding its way into every gap.

“Do you think mine looks better in that dress than I do? It’s kinda hard to breathe in a corset at the best of times but, and call me biased, I think he makes a pretty sexy witch.”

“He is looking good, I’ll give you that one. Although he’s not quite got the cleavage for the top,” Cat agreed, casting a critical eye over John.

“He's got the thigh muscles to keep him locked to a broom, though.”

“Come on, guys, it’s not that bad,” Gordon could be heard defending himself. “Look at my tail!”

“I have no idea how he can even stand up in that, let alone walk,” Cat whispered to Selene.

“Describing what he’s doing as walking might be pushing it to be honest,” Selene laughed, watching as Gordon waddled towards the crowd, his mermaids tail glinting in the sunlight.

“I’m too hot,” Alan complained, pushing back the hood of his teddy bear onesie.

“Wait until you’re freezing cold and waterlogged,” John sniffed. "Then you won't be complaining."

“I’m OK at the moment,” Virgil added with a shrug, his bulkier frame apparently throwing off more body heat than his more slender brothers, even though he was wearing nothing but denim hot pants and a knotted plaid crop top.

“This is so scratchy,” Scott complained to Cat, fiddling with the underside of his tutu. “How the hell do you wear these all the time?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you wouldn’t wear the tights,” Cat shrugged, totally unconcerned at his discomfort. “I did warn you.”

“This boning is flattening my lungs.”

“That’s because you have a manly chest, my love,” Selene called back to John, pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate from one of the flasks the hotel had provided along with toweling robes and sweatpants.

“You’d better get going, everyone’s lining up ready to go,” Cat said, giving Scott a shove towards the water, choosing to ignore the look of betrayal that he shot her. “Can’t let Gordon get in ahead of you in the line and beat you into the water now, can you?” she added with a glint in her eye.

“I knew I’d lose something delicate to frostbite by the end of this trip,” John muttered darkly as he begrudgingly accepted a small kiss for luck from Selene then, like a man going to the gallows, he moved to join his brothers.

Cat and Selene stood guarding the pile of belongings, staying a safe distance away from the water and crowds, just in case anyone decided they might require a dunking. They had both learned from experience that you could never be too careful.

The crowd was huge, they guessed somewhere in the region of three hundred people participating and an even bigger crowd watching, ready to cheer and offer moral support.

“Think they’ll hate us after this?” Selene whispered to Cat.

“To be honest, I think they hate us already,” Cat murmured, catching sight of the baleful looks Scott was still throwing her way.

“Guess we’ll just have to make it up to them with lots of hugs and warm things.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Cat giggled.

“The sacrifices we make for these boys.”

“It’s a very hard thing, but someone’s gotta do it,” Cat mused, before realising what she’d said and exploding in laughter.

Selene snorted in response. “With that amount of cold water? I doubt we’ll ever see a boner again.”

“That would be sad. We’ll just need to make sure we get them nice and warm later, won't we?”

“Again with the sacrifices, what do they do for us, huh?”

“They get nice and warm…” Cat tailed off with a shrug.

“You do realise that our flight clearance is in an hour? So we’ll have to deal with cold, wet boys all the way back to the island before we can look after them properly?”

“Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We must remain strong,” Selene started, only to be interrupted as the crowd began to chant a countdown. On the final word the crowd moved as one, surging forwards, dragging the unwilling members of the Tracy crew along with them.

The girls heard an almighty splashing, immediately followed by screams and curses as the cold water hit the swimmers hard.

“Welp,” Selene sighed, popping the ‘p’ “Happy New Year.”

“And to you.” Cat risked the invasion of the cold as she pulled Selene into a one armed hug. “Who knows what this year will bring, but here’s hoping it won’t be anywhere near as weird as this.”

“It’s a weird family, but you get used to them,” Selene laughed, hugging her back. “And as for what it’ll bring, you can never tell, so I guess we just have to wait and see.”

The girls watched as their drenched boys struggled their way out of the water, gasping for air, cursing under their breath. Selene shrugged as she grabbed a robe ready for Gordon who was the first one out. As weirdness went, this was pretty low down the scale, but she didn’t want to tempt fate.

#hogmanay #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy #Gordon Tracy #selene tempest #Catriona George #happy new year

17 notes · View notes

princess-of-riviaa · 4 years

Note

I can totally imagine prompt 2. virgin reader with captain Sy. Turning a big dom into a softy.

aprilsxndoval said: omfggg 1 and/or 2 from the smut prompt list😩

aaescritora said: Request: number 1 with Henry Cavill. ❤️

rosiexpotter said: Hi! ❤️ I saw you taking requests for smut prompt so I would like to request a story with Captain Syverson with numbers 1 and 2 if possible, thank you so much! ❤️

Sidenote: I’ve never actually seen Samd Castle, so I’m really sorry if this is out of character. From what I know of Syverson this is how I see his first time w his girlfriend going down.

oh my god can you just imagine trying to take this hunk of a man on your first time

Sy, ever the gentleman, would take you out on at least three dates before he tries to do anything more than kiss you. he’d wait until you know each other well enough to feel like old friends. and of course at the end of every date he’d kiss you at your doorstep, maybe add a little tongue to get you wanting more

he wouldn’t do anything with you until you asked because he didn’t want to push you and though he’s always willing to go all the way, he doesn’t know if you are and he’d hate to ruin a good thing while he had it. and once he finds out that you’ve never been with anyone else, oh god he forces you both to wait even longer. he insists that your first time shouldn’t be with someone you’ll later regret and despite your insistence that there’s no way you could ever regret being with him--what with how much of a gentleman he is, how brave and self-sacrificing he is, and not to mention how he’s built like a god--but he still makes you wait

part of you is convinced it’s only to build up the anticipation. or maybe he just likes torturing you. after all, just because he’s hesitant to sleep with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t kiss you. whenever you’re just relaxing at one of your houses, you spend the majority of the time making out and cuddling (Sy is a secret teddy bear and craves touch, especially yours, so he spends every second he can tangled up around you)

so finally, after several months of dating, you finally convince him. it isn’t easy. you have to learn how to beat him at his own game--if he’s going to tease you with lingering kisses and “accidental” touches, you can too. he comes over to your house on a Friday night and lets himself in (he’s been over to your house enough for it to feel like his own). you tell him to wait in the living room and he takes a seat on the couch

you stand in the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest and your stomach knotted up with nerves. you try to calm your breathing before you walk out and stop in front of him, letting him take in the sight of you. red is his favorite color, specifically burgundy--and that’s the exact shade of lingerie you’re dressed in now. the tank top is lacy and thin, see through everywhere except around the bust, and the shorts are so tiny on you they’re basically underwear. those are entirely see through too. he takes you in hungrily, looking ready to devour you

“do you like it?” you ask, spinning in a slow circle for him to get the full effect

he’s at a loss for words as his gaze locks on certain parts of your body--your thighs and the curve of your hips, and finally your breasts. they’re practically jumping out of the shirt. you hope it looks more seductive than awkward but you’ve never worn lingerie before so you can’t tell

“shit, baby,” he gets out, one hand moving to rest of his thigh. that’s when you notice the bulge growing in his pants. “you look stunning. did you get all dressed up for me?”

you wanted to play coy, but his words and the lust in his voice on top of the way he’s looking at you makes your face burn with a deep blush. you move to sit next to him on the couch and swallow down your nervousness as you turn on the TV. you settle on an rerun of The Office

after a while you snuggle closer to Sy. “it’s cold,” you whine as you bury your head into his chest

he wraps an arm around you and chuckles. “maybe you should put something warmer on?”

“I’d rather just let you warm me up”

Sy’s blood runs thick so he’s always hot, but he’s especially warm tonight. his manly scent smells stronger than it normally does and you wonder why. your head rests directly above his heart and you can hear beating crazy fast in his chest. you move your hand to rest on his stomach--you always love feeling the outline of his abs underneath--and that’s when you notice it

the tent in his pants

it’s huge

you’ve been watching The Office for a good ten minutes now and he’s still hard. the sight of it makes you drip and you want nothing more than to turn the show off and let him take you right here on the couch, but you know he still needs some convincing

Sy is an ass man, a fact that took you three months to learn. but every time you make out, he grips your ass cheeks and kneads them between his hands, giving them as much attention as he’s giving your mouth. even when you’re just relaxing on the couch, he’ll casually rest his hand over your butt, never trying to move it any further but just enjoying the feel of it. so you know exactly what to do that will make him go over the edge

you fake a yawn and stand up, stretching your arms and then your back. “I’m kind of tired. maybe we should go to bed early?” you force yourself to sound casual and innocent. you stretch your arms down to your toes, putting your ass right in his face, and keep it there for a good twenty seconds

“what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, clearly not enjoying this game

you stand back up and give him a small smile over your shoulder. “come join me in bed”

you walk towards your bedroom that has recently become your bedroom (Sy is plagued with nightmares and, since dating you, has learned that he can only fall back asleep after waking up screaming if you’re beside him and his arms are holding you tightly against him) and don’t have to look back to know he’s following

the second you get inside the room his arms are around you, his face buried in your neck and his lips attacking your skin, sucking hard

you gasp and lean back against him. your body is already burning at his touch and you want him, you need him. “Sy!” you gasp as you grind your ass into his erection, pleasure already flooding through you

“did you think you could tease me into finally fucking you?” he growls in your ear. “did you think that would actually work?”

“it’s working so far,” you giggle playfully as you grind your ass against him again

“you want me to fuck you, baby girl?” his voice calm and collected, unlike the rest of his body

you nod eagerly, desperately. “yes, Sy. please.”

he moves you towards the bed and bends you over, ripping off your shorts in one quick movement before kneeling down and shoving his face between your cheeks. you cry out and grasp the sheets tightly in your hands as you feel his tongue flick out and tease your folds. at this point you don’t even know if you’ll last long enough for him to be inside of you

his tongue licks at your core, which is already dripping and eager for him. you’re taken by surprise when, a few seconds later, he shoves a finger inside of you. you clench around him and cry out again. the heat is growing in your stomach and you know you’re not going to last. he moves his finger in and out of you and once you’ve adjusted, he adds a second finger

“fuck!” you gasp out. he’s so good at that!

he moves his fingers in and out of you again, though this time at a slower pace. he’s not going to let you cum just yet. a minute later he adds a third finger. he’s fingered you before--only after weeks and weeks of asking, of course--and he’s learned how to curl his fingers, what speed to move them at to make you come undone around him. but he doesn’t want you coming around his fingers tonight

“Sy!” you whimper, needing more than just his fingers. “Please!”

he kisses up your back and finally rises to his feet, pulling his fingers out. you whine at the loss of him.

“turn over, baby,” he demands. “I’m wanna look in your eyes while I do this.”

you comply and he helps you take off your top. he takes in the sight of your breasts and licks his lips--actually licks his lips. the sight of it should make you laugh, but you’re too turned on to do anything other than moan

he undresses himself next and you take in the sight of his naked form. you’ve never seen him completely naked before. you’ve actually only seen his cock a handful of times when you’ve given him a blowjob, and you’ve seen him shirtless occasionally, but all of it together is... mind blowing. for a second you’re shocked and confused, wondering how in the hell you have a man like this as your boyfriend

but before you can ponder for long he crawls over you and kisses you deeply, lovingly. “if you get uncomfortable, or you change your mind, we can stop,” he assures you

you look up at him, frowning into those big blue eyes. “Sy.”

he just smiles at you. “I know, I just need to make sure this is what you want.”

you kiss him deeply and lift your hips to grind your wet core against his erection, showing him just how badly you want this

he leans back to line himself up with your entrance and for a second you’re nervous, knowing there’s no way a cock that big can fit inside of you without a little pain, but he moves slowly enough and makes sure you’re lubricated enough that it doesn’t hurt at all. you both share a moan of pleasure when his tip teases your entrance and pushes all the way in

you pull him down to kiss you again and he grunts into your mouth as he slides further inside of you

“shit, baby, you’re so tight,” he gasps. “you feel so good around me, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.”

you just kiss him back tenderly. he takes his time filling all of himself inside of you, and waits for a long while for you to adjust to him before he starts moving. his strokes are so slow but you can feel him everywhere and it’s so amazing, so wonderfully overwhelming that your pussy clenches around him in a handful of seconds

he grunts and moves faster inside of you and you know he’s starting to chase his own high. he rests his head between your breasts as his thrusts become too much and you squeeze your eyes shut and cry out his name. your world stops as you cum and all you can think is how much you love him and you never want this moment to end

you’re not even sure when Sy cums, too blissed out to notice much of anything for a long while. when you come back to reality, he’s leaving gentle kisses on your stomach and ribcage, telling you how good you took him and how much he loves you, he’s gonna love you until the day he dies

and god, if you don’t want to spend forever with this man

100 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 4: Fractures

Summary: After being found, questions are asked and painful pasts come to light.

Series Masterlist

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382063/chapters/59742352

Words: 2537

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

Warnings: none that i can really think of, pretty tame chapter

A/N: Got another flashback here folks, as well as finally confronting some demons that have been chasing Reader for a while.

The fire crackles and spits, warming the air around you. The darkness of night is accompanied by a chill in the air, but neither you nor the guest at your camp pays it any mind. Eskel has been quiet as you both ate, wordlessly regarding you over the light of the fire.

“So…” you say, breaking the silence. You don’t want to start with anything too heavy, so you settle on “what’s the deal with the goat?”

Eskel’s face visibly lightens, his tense expression melting into something much softer, like ice caps melting in the sea. He looks into the shadows at the edge of the camp where the animals are resting. His stallion stands beside your mare, both of them nodding off in the still evening. Eskel’s goat is at the horses’ feet, curled up and tucked in on herself, sound asleep.

“I was passing through a little farming village about a year ago,” Eskel says, his voice carrying low on the breeze. “I didn’t even end up taking a job in that town, but as I was leaving she jumped the fence of her enclosure and ran up to me. She was a tiny little thing, probably the runt in her litter. I tried to just keep walking, but she kept screaming at me.” You smile at the picture, fully able to imagine it based on your experiences with the goat earlier that day.

“I turned around and walked back to her farm,” he continues, “and I opened the gate to try and get her back in there. She was just a stubborn then as she is now, and she wouldn’t budge. She dug her hooves in and gave me this look, gods she reminded me so much of Lambert,” he laughed.

You think back to when, about a year before you left Kaer Morhen, Eskel, Geralt, and you had been tasked with teaching Lambert the most efficient method to deal with a water hag. It turned out to be much easier said than done. Lambert had been no more than fourteen at the time, his eyes still hazel in the noon sun.

...

Lambert was wailing on a dummy by the wall of the courtyard, beating the ever-loving shit out of the damn thing. The three of you were trying to get him to listen to your advice, but it was like speaking to a wall. The little brat had decided that since he had killed one whole drowner he could take on whatever decided to come after him.

“Gods, I don’t know why we even try!” Geralt had exclaimed, finally reaching the end of his already very short patience. He stormed off, silver hair flipping into his eyes as he purposefully stomped up the steps towards the keep.

Eskel’s patience was wearing thin as well, you had noticed. He was always good at hiding his frustrations, but you had known him long enough to see through his cover. You remember placing a hand on his shoulder and nodding at the stoop surrounding the training area, silently telling him to sit down and let the master work.

Unfortunately, you still had yet to master Axii, and even if you had, you wouldn’t feel comfortable using it on someone for many years. So, you settled on a much older method, one that transcended time and magic.

“Hey, I bet that you can’t beat me in a sword fight,” you had called, unsheathing the steel sword as you did.

Lambert stopped his incessant swinging and turned, more than a little bit of arrogance shining in his eyes. Even though he was younger and less experienced, he had already been taller and broader than you. He tilted his head and you began circling each other around the courtyard.

“Hmmm...and what will I get when I win?” he had asked, already holding his sword in a solid guard across his chest.

“If you win, I’ll do your dish duty for a month,” you replied, and you had known that you had him hooked. Lambert hated dish duty more than almost anything else, grumbling and bitching the whole time.

“But,” you continued, his eyes narrowing, “if I win, you’ll let me come on the hunt for the hag with you.”

He stopped, his body reeking of sudden confusion. Even Eskel, who had been only halfway paying attention, perked up at your words, neither of them sure of why you wanted that for your prize. Lambert’s body shifted, his sword falling lower to his waist.

You smiled and quickly threw a hand out, casting Aard and sending Lambert flying backward, almost knocking Eskel off of the ledge. You ran forward and lept, sword held high. Lambert had barely had time to roll out of the way, and you spent the next hour chasing him around the courtyard.

The next day, you had set off on the hunt, happy with the rules you had set for your victorious hunt. You had tied a bit of fabric around Lambert’s mouth and told him that if he took it off, he’d be doing your dish duty for the next year. During the long trek to the hag’s lair, you spoke at great length about any and every bit of information you had about water hags, reveling in the chance to get him to listen without pulling your hair out.

…

“I almost even named her Lil’ Lambert, you know.” Eskel’s words bring your attention back to him, and you see the little smirk on his face on catching you daydreaming. “But, I figured Lambert wouldn’t be thrilled with being compared to a goat, so I just call her Lil’ Bleater instead.”

“Because…?” You chuckle, teasing the immense creativity the man in front of you had when naming his goat.

He avoids your gaze, well aware of the hole he has dug himself into. “Because..she...she bleats.”

You snort, and you feel real, true laughter rising from your stomach. It’s been longer than you can remember since you last laughed so easily, but it makes sense, you think, that Eskel would be the one to remind you of just how good it feels.

As the laughter dies down, the silence settles back around you, stifling in its quiet. You’ve always been content in silence, but now, it is as if the air is holding its breath, waiting for you to have the inevitable, painful conversation.

Eskel clears his throat, also visibly uncomfortable. You can hear his heartbeat underneath the sound of the fire, slow and steady as he breathes. His fingers intertwine with one another, grappling with the thoughts that are loudly spinning around his mind.

“You wander these woods often, or did something specific bring you here?” finally asks, teasing lilting his voice at the edges. You look up at him and smirk before nodding, explaining the harpy contract that you were set to begin hunting in the morning.

“Damn it, I was going after that one too. Different town, sits over the hill…” Eskel’s words drift off, glancing up at you as he debates asking a further question. You’ve always been impatient, so you ask instead.

“Need a hand? We can take care of the nest easily between the two of us, and there should be plenty of harpies for us to each grab a trophy from to use as proof,” you ponder, fiddling with the hem of your tunic at your leg. “Once it’s done, we can go back to the respective towns and both claim the rewards, and then set off on the Path again.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw set in an unmistakable gesture of conflict. Before you can wonder what may have annoyed him, you hear him mumble from across the fire.

“Yeah, I suppose that would be the best plan.”

Your heart breaks a little, a feeling that you haven’t really known in years. You wish that you could have more time with him, but you know that Witchers aren’t meant to linger together, the Path of the wolf is one trekked alone.

Eskel runs a hand through his hair, the dark locks fluttering back around his golden eyes as he raises his gaze to you once more. You see the fire behind it, flashing hurt and anger and confusion.

“What the hell happened? Why haven’t you found any of us, or come back?” He exclaims, jumping to his feet and pacing around the fire. You sigh, hugging your arms around your chest. You knew that he’d ask that, but you loathed the idea of going back through all of that pain and fear.

“Eskel,” you start, lowering your gaze to the fire, it being somehow less intense that looking into his eyes. “It was never about you, or the others. It was me, and my shit, my own inability to control my cowardice.”

Eskel stops, turning to you and staying silent, allowing you the time you need to put together your thoughts before speaking.

“Once we left and got a taste of the world, I realized how much fear had been ingrained in those walls. I was scared to go back there, to have to feel the memory of the Trials and the constant panic of not being perfect.” Your voice breaks a little, but you continue on, now unable to stop the torrent of emotions that had been held back for so long. You suddenly realize that it’s not that you haven’t been feeling for the past thirty years, but that you have just been pushing those feelings down further and further, and the moment Eskel came along he undid the lid and everything came spilling out.

“I just wandered for a few years, and by the time I had kind of made peace with what we went through at Kaer Morhen, I heard about the attack.” You look up at him and he is wearing a grimace, flinching slightly at the memory. “I was so ashamed, I should’ve been there, I shouldn’t even be alive.

A tear falls down your cheek as you fall silent. You see Eskel’s boots move, coming to rest on the ground beside yours. He sits beside you on the log and wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you to his broad chest. You sink into him, finding comfort in the scent of him and his grip grounding you in the present.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of” he rumbles, his voice low and soothing. “Gods, I have so many mixed feelings about that place. But it’s the only home I’ve known, and I’ve been given the chance to decide whether I want it to be a place of refuge, or one that smothers me.”

You know that he has a point, but you still can’t bring yourself to go back. “There’s something else. I’ve made peace with the past, or at least as much as I can.” You sit up, Eskel’s arms still sitting at your sides. You’re reminded of the night before the Trial, and the kiss that you shared but never actually talked about after.

“There’s this mage, and he’s been hunting and killing women for years,” you explain, Eskel’s brow furrowing with worry. “Allegedly, all of them were born during an eclipse, causing them to have certain...properties. I’m not sure exactly what, but the Day of the Black Sun is infamous. People are terrified of them, and this mage apparently thinks that these women are set to end the world as we know it.”

“What does all of this have to do with you?” Eskel asks, and you can’t help but fear how he will react when you tell him the truth.

“I...I’m one of them. I was born on that day, I saw it in one of the visions from the Trial,” you whisper, eyes avoiding his once more. “I’ve tried to stay low, stay safe, but...What if I am the end? I’ve already been turned into this...this monster...who knows what else I could become?”

Eskel fits a finger below your chin and pulls you back to him, his eyes searching yours as you see the tension in his brow relax.

“You listen closely, please,” he states, his tone serious as he continues. “You are not, and have never been, some monster. I don’t care what anyone has said over the years, I have learned that we alone control what we are. It doesn’t matter what others have done to you or think of you, it only matters what you choose to believe in spite of that.”

You swallow, your emotions slowly closing themselves back into the little box in your head. You don’t really know how to feel, having never really considered Eskel’s line of reasoning.

“You know, when you didn’t come back to Kaer Morhen that first winter, I worried constantly. In the spring, I convinced Geralt to help me look for you.” You turn back to the fire, once more ashamed of causing him concern. “We looked for the whole year, only taking enough contracts to get by. We’d hear whispers of you every now and then, but you’d be long gone every time. I’d still get Geralt to help when he could after that, but his Path was pulling him in lots of directions. Lambert even helped for a bit when he left the keep, but he got so frustrated with the lack of results that he didn’t last very long.”

“And then, after the attack, all we heard was silence. Everywhere we went, there was never any sign of you.” The tears flow freely down your cheeks, he’d actually looked for you? Tried to find you? “The others mourned you along with the rest, thinking that you had been killed. I figured that they were probably right, but a part of me just knew that you were still alive. I’ve never really stopped looking, and when I saw you in the forest, gods, I thought you were just some hallucination, taunting me with your presence.”

“But you were actually there, alive, right in front of me,” his voice shakes before he clears his throat. “I can’t let go, not now. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, even if I have to hunt down that mage and end him my own damn self.”

You look back to him and see the promise behind his eyes, and you wonder what your life could have been like if you’d found him sooner. You nod, not trusting yourself to reopen your chest of emotions that has buried itself back into your heart.

“We should rest, we’ll have a long day tomorrow,” you say, your words soft and edged with an empty sadness. Eskel sighs before standing to move away, but your hand catches his and pulls him back down. You can’t say it yet, but you can’t let go now either.

You rest your head on Eskel’s shoulder and feel his arm wrap around your waist, holding you steady. The sounds of the forest and the beat of the strong heart beneath you lull you into deep relaxation, your eyes fluttering shut and your consciousness slipping from your grasp.

#hollow things #eskel x reader #reader has feelings #that she'd rather not deal with #story of my life

46 notes · View notes

iffyswriting · 4 years

Text

ICE 2

With my forehead pressed against the wheel of my car, I took three big inhales each one for different unrelenting stresses.

Unwinding after my day made it easier to deal with going inside. Swiping up my phone I checked the time, knowing Daddy was probably waiting up for me.

11:12.

Getting to all my courage, I finally got out of my car and went inside my home, my father being exactly where I expected.

"Where you been?" He asked looking just as worn as me, his body limp in his big green reclining chair.

"I told you, I had practice. " I replied tiredly, dropping my keys into their porcelain pot.

"Janelle-"

"I already know what you're going to say and my legs hurt. Can talk in the morning?" He stared momentarily before waving me off, making my shoulders slump in relief. Walking towards the stairs, he cleared his throat making me turn around.

"You not gon' tell me good night?" Rolling my eyes with a tiny smile, I walked back over and placed a kiss to his cheek telling him I loved him. I walked down the stairs to the basement taking in my space.

Bouncing onto my bed I slid off my shoes my feet aching horribly. I checked out the heels of my feet sighing at the bruises that lined them. Red and purple, red and purple as usual. I unscrewed the top off of my Vapo rub and swiped it onto my soles, letting it soothe my pain.

Flipping out my phone, I scrolled through it, pulling up some music for me to listen too.

SZA softly poured out of my speaker, Broken Clock's hypnotic beat floating into my ears as I laid down fully, curling up in my covers.I turned my music up a bit, letting it relax me further. I was so sleepy but my eyes wouldn't shut as I looked up at my ceiling tracing shapes with my eyes into my popcorn ceiling.

❄

"I have to be in this next competition," I told my coach, Simone. We either practiced early in the morning or late in the afternoon, to combat with both our schedules.

"What competition?"

"The one at the end of this month," I said in a duh tone. "I know you know about it. "

"And you know I'm going to be in it." She stood still before speaking.

"Do you think you're ready for it?"

"Of course I do!"

"Janelle, they not only judge off of skill but presentation and-" She started off looking everywhere else but at me and I tightened my jaw, my blood beginning to pump faster.

"I can get enough money for a decent costume."

"Can you?"

"I don't pay you to fucking degrade me, Simone." I spoke angrily sitting down on the bench stretching the shoestrings of my skates, tying them up tight.

"You barely pay me at all." I scoffed, snatching my guards off keeping my eyes on the other side of the stands.

"Then quit." She sighed her eyes softening as she looked me over, sitting down next to me.

"You know you'll have to tighten up."

"I will!"

"So that triple axel will be together by then?"

"Yes."

Hours passed and everything stayed the same.

Even with all my trying, all my attempts-I kept falling. Hitting that ice felt like I was hitting a knife and I was repeatedly getting up just to stab myself all over again.

After my seemingly 100th try, I skated back to the bleachers needing to sit down and breathe. I gripped my seat trying to force the lump in my throat all the way back down, biting back any tears that blurred my vision.

"And you think you're ready." She said smartly, making my stomach twist into more knots.

"I am!"

"But you can't get this crucial part of you're routine together and you wanna throw yourself into an even harder competition!"

"I can do it sometimes!"

"Sometimes isn't guaranteed!"

"It's enough for me to keep going!"

"You're supposed to believe in me!"

"I'll believe when you try harder."

"All I fucking do is try!"

"Okay, Janelle." She brushed her hair back from her forehead and I counted each wrinkle, trying to focus on something else other than my burning anger.

"I think we're done for the day."

"Simone."

"We'll try again tomorrow." She spoke, set in her words. I didn't want to stop her because, at this point, I needed some space away from her.

It's so fucking frustrating.

I keep failing and failing and failing, yet I'm always expected to get back on my feet unscathed and ready for more action. I'm not this resilient person I'm putting on to be and it's becoming harder and harder each day to pretend I am.

Why can't I get it right?

I sniffle softly, my throat becoming tighter and tighter as the minutes ticked on mocking me.

"You not getting on the ice, today, Icey?"

I look back at the deep soothing voice, matching it to a handsome face.

A really handsome face.

He was much taller than me and leaned against the railing of the steps, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. He was clearly freezing, goosebumps running up the side of his arm. I'd become used to the cold, so much it was like a second kind of blanket.

His skin was stark against all the white that surrounded us, a dark brown that reminded me of hot cocoa- the juxtaposition being a beautiful contrast.

"What'd you call me?"

"Icey. I don't know your name, so I just made up a lil something." He paused before licking his bottom lip. "Hope you don't mind."

"I don't. What was your question?"

"Are you not going to get on the ice today?"

"I'm not feeling it right now."

"Damn, I was hoping to watch you." He sounded genuinely disappointed and I was a little shook, starting to chew on my bottom lip.

"You watch me all the time?"

"Not all the time-"He said quickly, kind of flustered, "I just like the way you move and the sounds- I guess you do your thing or whatever." He finished off, studying my features sheepishly.

"I don't know if you're trying to be nice-"

"I'm being honest." Chuckling, I couldn't help but shake my head at him.

"Well, thank you for that. That's the first compliment I've heard about my skating in years."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"If I could get out there and fucking hurl myself across a block of ice every day, everyone would see it and everyone would be respectin' me and my talent."

"You're making it sound so insanely impossible."

"Not everyone can do it. " He paused again slickly starting to smirk. "Not everyone can do it the way you do."

"Stop hyping me up, stranger."

"Amir." He said quickly, his name becoming locked into my head.

"Stop hyping me up then, Amir."

"Well Stranger-"

"Janelle." I said making him let out a breathy laugh.

"Well, Janelle- I'd love it if you tried again."

"I don't know."

"I think your discrediting yourself too much. I know your coach yells at you about how you fuck up on this or mess up on that but- you still look breath-taking. Like a real-life figurine but with passion and grace."

I blinked unsure of what to say or how to feel. Standing up straight, I leaned on the rail and gave him a small smile.

"Okay, I'll give it another go. Maybe your seeing something I don't."

I stretched to touch my toes then put my arms outward, my pose before I began.

Starting off slowly, I did an easy figure eight, looping in a circle.

I was in the air for a couple of seconds before landing on my feet, my arms in the air as I kept my balance. I couldn't dwell long in my excitement as I launched into a toe loop, spinning the exact way I should.

His straight white teeth were on display as I stood still finished with my performance. He clapped loudly, whistling too as my own grin grew wide on my face.

"I knew you could do it!" He yelled, His support making my heart thump harder in my chest as I bounced up and down in place.

"I don't know what you did but-"

"I didn't do anything that was all you!"

He gave me another thumbs up from the door and then turns on his heels leaving me alone in the great big space.

I didn't know what to think, or how to feel.

Well, I felt good- confident even.

I started to skate again doing the triple axel once more and I wish Simone was here to see it.

See that I could do it.

He made me think about why I loved skating so much, why I had to keep this dream alive.

When I was younger, I used to spend a lot of time at my Grandma's house.

I didn't realize at the time it was because my father was unstable and he struggled to make things better for our little family.

At GiGi's house you could never expect but so many channels but on satellite, there was this one channel where figure skating was played regularly.

Little Janelle was captivated- it was the only thing that could keep me quiet because it was so beautiful and pristine. Princesses dancing on my screen, twirling on the ice in their gorgeous costumes and slicked up hair-dos.

None of these girls looked like me and I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to become someone

I expected my daddy to treat my dream as unrealistic but I didn't expect him to be as dismissive of it as he was.

When you're little you think that you can do anything and when you're supported in that, you keep aiming for stars beyond your reach.

My dad never had that philosophy. Aim for easy goals makes failure and heartache, not an option, so life goes smoother and you feel more settled.

I told him I wanted to be an Ice Skater and he told me I could clean the ice. I'd have an even better chance of working at the concessions.

You can only teach what you know, so I couldn't even be mad.

No matter what- I have to skate. I don't know if we've all got our destiny determined for us before we're born but I know that this one thing, I was always meant to do.

I know it's just a stupid sport but it's my passion and when you're so passionate about something you're willing to put your heart on the line consistently to see it through, you can't just abandon it when shit hits the fan.

Even when I fuck up, it's like I did it. I got a chance to fly even for seconds all on my own and when I come back down from my high still standing, it's a rush I refuse to let go of. When I succeed it only gives me more reassurance to keep going, never stop because there's a chance you're going to make it and people are going to know your name.

So no matter the circumstances, I gotta push as far as this skating shit will take me.

Because its the closet thing to a dream, I've ever wanted to be real.

@fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @chaneajoyyy @bakarilennox @domdollass

#ice skating #icefiction #ice itsiffysworld #Trevante Rhodes #black love #black people #fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

Early Mornings (Thomas x MC)

Summary: Just an average morning in the Mendez-Day household.

This probably would’ve been up earlier, but I have a sick 3 year old niece at my house who is very clingy and needs constant attention and cuddles, lol. This idea was given to me by the lovely @akacalliope whom I am super grateful for because a girl was having major writer’s block. Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (in general or for Thomas)

Fair warning, this story ended up being a bit smuttier than I anticipated, so by reading this you acknowledge you are 18+.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @cxld-play @thefangirl-2001 @blackcoffee85

~~~

“How many more minutes until the alarm goes off?”

Thomas turns his head and looks at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “11 minutes.”

Marissa ignores the warm light that’s trying to peak through the curtains. She burrows deeper into the bed and sighs. Seriously, how did she ever live without an amazing memory foam mattress and down comforters? “Great. Wake me up again in 11 minutes.”

“You can’t seriously go back to bed, can you?” Thomas asks incredulously. “That’s not enough time.”

“Um, I’m the queen of power naps.”

Thomas chuckles and wraps his arm tight around his fiancé’s waist, pulling her closer to him. He plants a kiss on the back of her shoulder, before moving up slowly, peppering kisses up the back of her neck. “I’d rather do this.”

She shivers pleasantly at the feel of his lips on her neck. “That’s a nice gesture.”

“But is it better than going back to sleep?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know,” Marissa teases playfully. “You might need to do it again. For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course. I’m more than happy to oblige, madam.” Thomas’ finger slips under the strap of the tank top Marissa’s wearing and slides it down, exposing more of her shoulder. He teeth gently graze the flesh, before he kisses it. “How about now?”

“Definitely getting warmer.” Marissa turns her head so she can look at Thomas. “Good morning.”

“Morning, beautiful.”

Marissa tilts her head up and snakes her arm around the back of his neck and head, pushing him towards her. She captures him in a greedy kiss.

Thomas responds eagerly, his tongue sweeping past her lips and melding with her own. His hand leaves her waist and he skims the smooth expanse of her stomach until he reaches her breast, cupping one of them.

A low moan escapes the back of Marissa’s throat and she arches against him, pressing into his morning arousal.

“Marissa…” Thomas warns, growling into her ear.

“Yes, counselor?”

Thomas can’t hold back his own moan as the words leave her mouth. He squeezes her breast before taking one of hardened nipples between his fingers, rolling it. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I-If my memory s-s-serves me correctly, I’m not the one w-who started this.” The grip she has on the back of his head tightens, her nails gently grazing his scalp. “Let’s see how much you can accomplish in a 7 short minutes.”

“You’ll be surprised to see what I can do with a limited amount of time. And I’ll have you know something, Miss Day, I never shy away from a challenge.”

He grabs her face and kisses her again, harder this time, the urgency and desperation evident. He had never felt more grateful for the fact that he only wore boxers to bed. While the official reason was that he got incredibly warm in his sleep — Marissa constantly called him her own personal heater — Thomas couldn’t deny that it was extremely convenient for morning quickies. Taking a hand, he quickly shoves the boxers down and haphazardly kicks them away, not caring where they land.

He then hooks his thumb into the waistband on his fiancé’s underwear and tugs them. Marissa lifts her hips in order to assist. His fingertips slowly trail down her thigh, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. “You’re so soft. It should be a crime.”

“Thomas,” Marissa exhales. “You’re being a tease.”

His breath is warm on her neck as he pants behind her. He chuckles deeply. “You have no patience, my love.”

“I have the patience of a saint,” Marissa argues. She flips them over so she’s on top of Thomas. “I’m just choosing not to exercise it.”

Whatever witty response Thomas has geared up on the tip of his tongue dies as soon as she lowers herself onto him. His eyes flutter shut at the feel of her completely enveloping him.

She rocks her hips forward, and Thomas lifts his up, meeting her halfway. After a few thrusts, they fall into a slow rhythm. Her nails rake across his chest, uncaring if she actually scratches him. Thomas doesn’t mind either. They enjoy marking each other up every once in a while‍‍. Besides, a well placed scratch or hickey makes for interesting gossip fodder for the PTA, and Marissa knows how much they love talking about her.

His hands roam every inch of skin his can touch — her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her arms. Every touch of the skin only sets her on fire and spurs her movements on further. He drops his hand down between them, his thumb finding her clit, drawing slow, lazy circles. Thomas watches as Marissa’s eyes close and her head drops back with a shuddered moan.

Her thighs start to tremble and that all familiar ache settles in her lower stomach. “Fuck,” she hisses under her breath. “Thomas, I’m s-so...close.”

“Come on,” Thomas coaxes, his pace on her clit quickening. “Cum for me, Mari.”

A silent cries escapes her lips as her orgasm rolls through her. Thomas follows behind a few thrusts later, spilling into her.

Marissa falls forward, her head landing on his chest. The room was silent, save for their heavy pants, the couple trying to catch their breaths. Thomas places a hand on the small of her back, softly stroking her skin.

“Why don’t we do that more often?” Marissa asks rhetorically. As soon as the words leave her mouth, the shrill sound of their alarm clock goes off, startling them out of their peaceful bubble.

“Because we’re never going to get up early enough to do it often,” Thomas answers with a sigh. “And even if we ignore our alarm clock, we have two tiny humans that will wake us up.”

Marissa rolls over and gets out of bed. “True. Join me in the shower before we have to get the girls up?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

~V~

Forty-five minutes later, the Mendez-Day household is in fully up and ready to begin the day.

Thomas is getting dressed for work, while Marissa is in the kitchen with Luz and Ivy, making breakfast.

Ever since getting engaged and moving in with Thomas and Luz four months ago, the four of them settled into a pretty seamless routine. Marissa helped the girls get dressed for the day, they ate breakfast together, and Thomas reviewed their homework before dropping them off.

“How about just cereal for breakfast?” Marissa suggests. “I won’t have to cook, and that way I’ll still have time to do your hair for picture day. What styles are we going with again?”

“Braids,” Luz says.

“Ballerina bun.”

“Braids and ballerina bun, got it.” Marissa grabs a box of Cap’n Crunch from the pantry and pours two bowls.

“Don’t forget I have soccer practice after school,” Luz says, accepting a bowl of cereal.

“Of course not. It’s over at 5:30. And Ivy has science club until 5, so she’ll get picked up first and then we’ll swing by and get you.”

“Can you bring snacks for the team?” Luz asks.

Marissa checks back in the pantry, scanning to see if they had enough of one snack to feed a bunch of hungry kids. Nope. “I’ll head to the grocery store as soon you guys leave, and pick up Capri Suns and...trail mix. Is trail mix good?”

“It has to be cranberry kind.”

“You got it, dude.”

After breakfast and getting the girls prepared for picture day, Marissa grabs their backpacks, ready to usher everyone out of the door.

“Do you pack lunches or do the girls need lunch money?” Thomas asks.

Marissa adjusts Thomas’ tie and smooths out the lapels of his suit jacket. “I added lunch money onto their accounts last Friday, they should be good for two weeks.”

“Okay. And have you seen my briefcase?”

“In your car.”

“And there’s no permission slips we need to sign or conferences we’re forgetting?”

Marissa shakes her head. “No. Are you picking the girls up later or am I?”

“Will you be out of class by then?”

A few months ago, Marissa enrolled in the local college to finish her bachelor’s degree. Thankfully she was just a few credits shy, and only had to take two classes, one of them online.

“Class will be over at 1:30, I’m good.”

“Can you pick them up, just in case I end up staying a bit late at the office? I don’t plan on it, but sometimes they hold me hostage.”

“No problem.” Marissa turns to Ivy and Luz. “Let’s do takeout for dinner. Chinese food, pizza, or Thai?”

“Pizza!” The girls say in unison.

“Pizza it is.” She bends down to kiss both of their foreheads. “Have a good day at school, my little chickadees. Make good choices, be brilliant.”

“Bye mom.”

“Bye Marissa!”

Thomas wraps an arm around Marissa’s waist and spins her around. “I don’t get any love?”

“I think you’ve had your fair share for the day, Mister.”

Thomas smirks. “Nonsense. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Have a good day, my love. May you be the best lawyer at your firm, win all of your cases, and have easygoing clients.” Marissa obliges him and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips, ignoring the obnoxious sounds the kids were making at the display of affection.

“Okay, I’ve heard enough from the peanut gallery.” Marissa says once she pulls away. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too.”

Once the three of them are gone, Marissa dramatically plops down on the couch. She closes her eyes, hoping to get a few moments of rest.

As soon as she closes her eyes, her phone buzzes loudly. Her eyes snap open at the noise. Pulling her cell out of her pocket, she sees it’s her group text message thread, from the PTA, asking her questions about new fundraiser ideas.

She sighs. “No rest for the weary.”

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #mother of the year #moty #thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc #ns*fw

241 notes · View notes