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ethereal27cereal · 2 years

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Curls - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

part 2

summary: Eddie is getting ready to meet your parents for the first time after a year of dating. He is particularly nervous about impressing them, so you help him do his hair. And then help him relax a little 😉

warnings: smut 18+ MINORS DNI. established relationship, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (mention of birth control but still wrap it up and be safe 👍🏻), lots of sweet sappiness between Eddie and reader, reader has curly hair but it is not described in great detail, reader is implied as plus size but doesn’t have to be read that way, reader has relationship with both parents. I think that is it but let me know if I missed something.

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 4.9K

author’s note: I couldn’t get the idea out of my head about doing Eddie’s hair and so this just all kind of came rambling out. Any feedback is always appreciated 💕

may 1993

“You said I’m not supposed to brush it out when it’s dry, yeah?” Eddie asks, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to remember your advice. He’d remembered the part about not washing his hair everyday, and has opted for just a quick shower, already dry and in his blue checkered boxers. But it is every other step that comes next that is making his palms sweat and doubt creep into his mind.

Eddie is normally pretty particular about his appearance, he has his set look and he feels like he does it well - ripped jeans, white Reeboks, a wide variety of metal band t-shirts, an assortment of rings and chains, topped off by his signature fluffy, long mane. But today is different.

He’s not just dressing to impress you, you always love the way he looks, but your parents…they might be a different story. Your parents are coming into town for the weekend and will finally get to meet Eddie after almost twelve months of dating. You can’t lie, you’re a bit nervous about introducing them to your long-haired, metal loving boyfriend, but Eddie looks like he could pass out every time you bring up the subject.

He has been fighting the urge to crawl out of his skin all week at the thought of meeting the people who are responsible for creating the woman he loves more than anything else in the world. And today is finally the day.

Eddie wants to look nice, maybe not suit and tie nice, but he definitely went out to buy a neat looking button down and a pair of unripped jeans at the last minute because nothing in his closet seemed appropriate enough to impress your parents. He wants you to be proud of him, proud to show him off, and he wants your parents not to curse his name and banish him from their existence when he tells them he’s planning on proposing to you.

So he will do his hair, put on clothes that make him feel like he might suffocate, and put on his warmest smile to impress what he hopes are his future in-laws.

He hesitates before grabbing the hairbrush off the counter and turns toward you, freshly clean and dripping wet as you step out of the shower. Even after nearly a year together, Eddie still has to steady his racing thoughts and keep himself from gaping at your naked form. His eyes trace a path up and down your body, drinking in all the delicious curves he feels lucky to have become so intimately familiar with.

Before answering, you bend down, abundant rounded breasts swaying slightly as you shift from side to side to begin forming the ringlets of your own curls, a cascade of water droplets darting out to hit his bare chest. Years of practice allow you to make quick work of the ringlets, looping them into place deftly before scrunching over them with a light layer of gel.

“Yeah, only brush it when it’s wet. You’ll lose the curl definition and maybe damage your curls if you’re dry brushing a lot,” you remind him sweetly before continuing on with your routine.

Eddie gapes, mesmerized at the process as you swing your hair from side to side, tummy and breasts jiggling temptingly as you move about. You twirl a few errant curls around your fingers and gaze at yourself in the mirror, smirking as you catch him staring in the reflection. Satisfied with your mane, you reach to grab your towel and roughly run it over your arms before bringing one foot up on the edge of the tub to dry your legs.

Eddie watches intently as you rub the plush warm towel over your body, moving down your chest and over your tummy to your legs. The way the swell of your breasts rests against the gentle rolls of your belly has his cock stirring against the pilled cotton of his boxers. He tries to tamp down the feelings, but the nerves make him needy and he wants the comfort that can only come from your touch.

“Let me help you with that,” Eddie smirks with his quick suggestion, replacing your hands with his own as he brings the towel up from your legs and to your breasts. You roll your eyes playfully, but can never really deny him and his pretty persistent desires to touch you.

His chocolatey brown eyes glow as he gently squeezes and massages both of your tits, clearly not with the intent of actually drying you off. With a skillful familiarity, he pinches and tweaks your nipples through the thick cotton, making your knees momentarily wobble and you find yourself biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. He gives you a cocky smirk before pulling his hands and the towel away.

“Gotta check and see if they’re dry,” he insists, his needy hands now palming around the full weight of your breasts and heaving them upwards and together, creating one of his favorite sights in the world. A pleased hum rumbles from the back of his throat and he dips his head down to place a tender kiss to the petal soft flesh on the top of your breasts.

“Hmm, still a little wet I think,” Eddie proposes, quirking his eyebrows at you as he grabs for the towel again. Your breath hitches in anticipation as Eddie lifts one breast at a time and gently swipes the towel under each ample globe.

He drops the towel to the floor between your feet, but his hand doesn’t leave your chest, still offering teasing squeezes to each breast. With a sudden molten look in his eyes, his head drops back down to your tits, tenderly tugging your peaked nipple in between his teeth. Mewling moans and sighs freely escape your lips as he lavishes you with attention, sucking and swirling his tongue around the aching bud.

Your tummy flutters wildly and a growing heat begins to coil in your core when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and moves further up your pillowy breast, leaving soft lilac bruises in his wake. He sets in on devouring you with a growl, strong arms snaking around your soft waist when your knees finally do fully buckle and you melt against his chest.

“Eddie,” his name comes out as a breathy moan from your lips.

“Mmm, you taste so good baby, I need you,” his words blow warm against the column of your throat and it takes everything in you not to give yourself fully to him, right then and there against the bathroom sink.

“Eddie, we can’t. We gotta get ready, I don’t want to be late,” you sigh, tugging slightly at his curls to pull him away from your neck. He moves away, scowling at his sudden eviction, but his hands stay firmly gripped around your waist, holding you to him.

“Fine. But help me do my hair, please. I don’t have it down quite as well as you do,” he relents with a sigh, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. “Lemme just wet it first, I guess,” Eddie turns toward the sink and begins to run the water, dipping his head down to dunk it underneath the stream.

“Hey, whoa, let’s maybe use the spray bottle. The bathroom is going to be a sopping wet mess that way,” you suggest with a laugh, pulling him away from the sink and ushering him toward the closed toilet to sit down. You pull out your spray bottle, special brush, and detangler spray, ready to make some magic with Eddie’s curly mane.

“The spray bottle always makes me feel like I’ve been bad and I’m getting scolded,” his expression turns into a grimace and he cringes away from the misting spray.

“Some dark secrets coming out here, my love, did you get scolded with a spray bottle, Eddie?” you ask with an incredulous laugh, pausing your hand that is on the spray bottle.

“I mean, if I was being super naughty…” he begins with a sheepish grin.

“Which you often are…” you conclude playfully, but nod for him to finish his story.

“Uncle Wayne had one to use on the stray cats around the trailer park. We liked to feed them and watch them play around, but sometimes they would get a little feisty and try to fight each other. So he always had his handy dandy spray bottle in case he had to break up a fight,” he recounts thoughtfully, a boyish beaming smile plastered to his face.

“And if I was ever being too feisty and trying to get into fights, or just especially pissing him off, he had no qualms about spraying me right in the face with that spray bottle. He got me right in the eye one time,” Eddie chuckles and looks up at you, honest brown eyes searching your expression.

“Honestly, seems like a pretty good method for keeping you in line, Munson,” you smirk, holding the spray bottle somewhat threateningly in front of him.

“Ahhh no, please,” he whines in protest and waves a dramatic hand in front of him, tilting back away from you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I have other ways of making you behave,” you tease, suggestively waving your tits in his face as you begin to lightly mist the back of his head. With a happy grumble, he buries his face in your breasts, using his hands to mush them together around his cheeks. He inhales deeply before pulling his face away from the soft pillowy flesh, the scent of your body wash and your naturally sweet smell lingering in his nostrils.

“I think I like your way of making me behave better,” Eddie nods thoughtfully, settling into position as you begin to spray his curls again. You carefully cover his face with your palm as you mist his feathery bangs. He blindly reaches out to flick on the boombox and turns the track to your latest favorite, and even though it isn’t metal, it has become one of his favorites just because of how much you love it.

Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting voice echoes through the small bathroom as you bop along to the ringing guitars in the intro of Dreams, and Eddie can’t help but smile. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be sitting in a bathroom, listening to The Cranberries, and getting his hair finger curled by the naked woman he is madly in love with. Your sweet hesitant voice begins to sing along, just barely above a whisper, but Eddie trains his ear to listen to every word.

And now I tell you openly

You have my heart so don't hurt me

You're what I couldn't find

A totally amazing mind

So understanding and so kind

You're everything to me

Eddie feels his chest clench and tighten at the lyrics, biting back the lump that was forming in his throat. He knows he’s being a bit silly and dramatic, but the words feel like they’re meant for him, for you, for your relationship together.

His life hasn’t been easy, he doesn’t complain often, but it has made him hard around the edges. But ever since you have come into his life, everything is softness. Your touch, your heart, your smile, your words, your body. Like being wrapped in a plush warm blanket after a long draining day, the feeling of coming home. You are soft, pillowy, and welcoming. And it makes all of the hardness and bitterness inside him weaken, leaving only softness and warmth behind.

You have made quick work of his curls, lightly brushing out the knots as you sing along. You sway to the rhythm while finger coiling some face framing pieces, pausing suddenly when you notice the gentle wobbling of Eddie’s chin as he ducks his head and tries to swipe away a stray tear.

“Hey, what’s up buttercup?” you sooth, setting down your brush and lifting his chin to look at you. His chocolate eyes are brimmed with tears waiting to fall, his pink cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he tries to hide.

“Nothing, it’s dumb, I’m just being dumb,” Eddie swallows harshly and forces a thin smile.

“Nuh uh, don’t talk about my handsome boyfriend like that. You’re not being dumb and whatever you are crying about is certainly not dumb,” you reassure sweetly, tenderly cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“I..I…think I’m just really fucking stressed. With working so much lately and your parents coming into town, I think I just am really worried,” Eddie begins, his voice cracking with every other word.

“Worried about what?,” you ask innocently, trying not to think too hard about the ring box you found in his jeans pocket when doing laundry last week. You try to fix your face into a look of oblivious concern, just in case your expressions betray you.

“I want your parents to like me, and think I’m good enough for you. And don’t start saying ‘of course they will’. You have everything in your life all figured out, and I don’t feel like I have much going on to offer you, especially on just my lousy mechanics salary. I know you don’t think of it that way, but I just want you to be proud of me and not feel ashamed of introducing me to your parents,” he finishes with a choked sound, and begins chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Eddie, my love, I am immensely proud of you! I brag about you, your band, all of the accomplishments you’ve made at the shop with your promotion, and pretty much everything about you to just about everyone I meet. And that includes my parents. They already know all about you, and already love you because I love you,” you insist, petting his bangs out of his eyes and whisking away a few more tears that threaten to fall from his lashes. He gazes up, nodding solemnly, but unable to form words that would even come close to an appropriate response to your endless kindness and support.

“What can I do to help? We have about..30 more minutes before we have to leave, do you need cuddles?” you coo, a hint of condescension creeping into your voice as you see him perk up and begin to lick his lips in anticipation. He peeks up at you through his thick lashes, plump lips turned down in a frown for extra dramatic effect.

“Not just cuddles, sweetheart, I need you. I need to be inside you,” he pouts, hands coming up to rest on the swell off your ass, squeezing and testing the fullness of both cheeks. You nod, biting your lip seductively as you pull him up to stand with you. With a strangled moan, Eddie’s lips are crashing against yours, biting and licking with an insatiable need that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

He begins to guide you backwards toward your shared bedroom, using your butt to steer you away from walls and other sharp furniture. The backs of your knees bump against the bed, and in one swift motion, Eddie tosses you up onto the mattress with a pillowy plop. Despite his slight frame, sinewy muscles lurk beneath his pale skin and he doesn’t seem to expend any significant effort as he tugs you further up the bed so your head is resting against the soft downy pillows.

Eddie settles back into the kiss, making a sloppy claim on your mouth before raining a million wet kisses down your body. His touch is needy and hungry, anything but patient as he leaves hasty bites against the swell of your breasts, grabbing hands spreading your legs wide as he dips his head down further. Out of habit, you go to tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his kisses where you need him most, but stop suddenly when you see the fresh delicate ringlets in your fingertips.

“Wait, baby, I’m going to fuck up your hair if you do that right now. Later. I need you to…” you try to finish your thoughts before he flicks his tongue teasingly against your clit, words dissolving into a breathy gasp as you impulsively arch up against his tongue.

“Mmm, what do you need, princess? Tell me what you need,” Eddie growls against your heat, licking a teasing stripe up your slit before looking up into your eyes for an answer, smoldering pools of burnt caramel gazing at you intently.

“Fuck, Eddie…I need…I need you to fill me up, please,” you pant breathlessly, fingers flexing and gripping the sheets so you don’t mess up his curls.

“With my fingers…?” he wiggles a teasing digit inside, your walls immediately spasm and clench around his finger with frantic need, tossing your head back into the pillow without a care for your own wet curls.

“Or does this tight little pussy need more?” he asks with a sly grin, suddenly pulling his finger from your wetness and dipping it in his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good,” he hums as he pops his pointer finger out of his lips and crawls up from between your thighs.

“Eddie, please, I need you to fuck me, now,” you huff and whine, pulling him back up to eye level with you.

“Jeez, lovey, somebody sure is needy. And you act like I’m the sex crazed one around h…” he begins teasingly, but is cut off with a choked groan as you reach down to wrap your hand around his cock. You guide his swollen tip through your silky folds, both of you shaking in anticipation before he plunges in. His lips immediately find yours again, gasps and moans overflowing between your lips when he buries himself deep inside your molten core.

He steadies himself for a moment, letting you throb and flex around him while you adjust to the delicious sting of being so filled by him. Your hands grip wildly at his shoulders and you kiss a frantic path across the small portion of his chest, biting at the skull and spider inked against his collarbone.

“Christ you feel so fucking amazing, so tight and wet for me,” his voice shakes as he begins to set a steady pace. Slowly pumping his thick length all the way in and drawing back out in a dizzying rhythm that has you almost immediately seeing stars. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on lasting more than a few moments despite the blooming heat beginning to rise in your tummy and take over. Yours and Eddie’s moans and sighs along with the filthy slapping sounds of sex fills the room, and your sounds only become more unabashedly loud when he snakes a hand in between your bodies to rub against your sensitive clit.

Your ears ring and your legs begin to tremble, your release boiling and bubbling in your core, ready to explode. You babble incoherently, something about being close and not wanting it to be over yet, not sure any of that comes out as intelligible words until Eddie responds.

“That’s alright, come for me my love, I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he coos, calloused thumb pressing delicate circles against your clit and you feel yourself unwind. With a strangled scream, your body is shaking, inner walls fluttering wildly around his girth. “That’s it, that’s my pretty girl. Such a good girl coming so hard for me,” his voice is intoxicatingly deep, filled with heat and desire as he watches you unravel at his touch.

Before your vision fully clouds over, your eyes flicker open, needing to look up at the love of your life. Eddie is gazing down at you, chocolate brown eyes blown into inky pools full of love, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tries to keep a steady pace with you writhing underneath him. You reach up to cup his cheek, whispering a breathy ‘I love you’ as you begin to slowly come back to your senses.

“Christ, sweetheart, I love you too, but you’re driving me crazy. I can still taste you on my lips and I need to be down there so fucking bad right now,” Eddie groans and suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you with an empty throbbing feeling as you reach to bring him back to you. But he’s already down with his face in between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs down to the mattress so you’re well out of his way. He gently tucks the stray curls framing his face behind his ears and gives you a sheepish grin.

“You’re going to hold my hands so you’re not tempted to mess up my hair, but I’m going to make you come on my tongue. And if that makes us late, then so be it,” he affirms and reaches up to tangle his fingers in yours, holding them firmly against your still wobbly thighs.

Without another word, he dives in, licking and sucking your sensitive folds. His movements are frenzied and hungry, determined to consume every bit of you like a man starved. He sucks and nips harshly at your clit, before slithering his tongue downward to delve inside your quivering hole. He sets a punishing rhythm, knowing just exactly where to lick and kiss to make you a whimpering mess.

Within a skillfully short amount of time, he brings you back to the edge again. You buck your hips against his tongue and lips, trying to fight your way towards release as the crushing pressure is building in your belly once again. He steadies you with your intertwined fingers, keeping you from floating away and losing your mind.

“Just let go, my love, I know you’re right there. I can feel it. Just let go for me,” he purrs in between sloppy licks and kisses to your folds, tugging them in his lips before releasing the petal like flesh with a pop. With another high pitched moan, you’re tumbling into the precipice of your orgasm. Your body courses with electricity as he delivers a few more harsh kisses to your overly sensitive bud and you fight and writhe to release your hands from his to grab at him. But he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hands tangled with his in a gentle firmness that leaves you feeling even more weak and lightheaded.

Before you’ve had a chance to catch your breath, he’s back up on his knees, pulling you by your hips to meet him and sliding a pillow under your butt for added support. Eddie thrusts his cock back inside you with a chesty groan, head lolling back against his shoulders as he hits against your spongy soft center. He pounds into you with the same intensity and hunger he had when he’d tasted you, relentless and needy to fill you up and feel you all around him. Eddie’s eyes never leave your face as he reaches up to play with your breasts, a whimpered sigh leaving his lips as he pinches your pebbled peak between his thumb and forefinger.

You suddenly feel overwhelmed with it all, his intense gaze seeing you, all of you, the love that burns where your bodies meet, and another orgasm slowly winding a tight coil in your core. You clench your eyes tight again and throw an arm over your face, trying to hide from the gut wrenching intimacy that happens every time you’re with Eddie like this.

“Look at me, sweetheart, please, I want to see you when I come,” he gently pulls your arm away from your face, lacing your fingers together and rubbing a comforting pattern on the back of your hand as he urges you to open your eyes. Despite your heavy lids and burning cheeks, you open your eyes, met with his sweet beaming smile.

“There you are, my love. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his face pinching in pleasure as you clench involuntarily around him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come so hard,” he warns shakily, gasping and panting but still never looking away from you. You nod in response to his warning, pressing him on with a whimpered ‘please’ as you feel your own release finally creeping over you. A third flash of pleasure seeps into your veins and you throb weakly around his thrusting cock, sending him over to his own release.

Eddie rattles off a string of babbled praises, your name and words of unending love leaving his lips as he pumps you full of his seed. He shutters and you feel a final warm surge of his climax spurt into you, coating your walls and marking you as his. The thought of anyone having that kind of claim over you would’ve made you sick in the past, too possessive and all encompassing. But with Eddie, that’s all you wanted. To be his and for him to be yours.

“You are so gorgeous like this, well I mean, you are gorgeous all the time. But god, when I come inside you and I look down and there you are, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind,” he confesses with a babbling sincerity that you will never ever grow tired of. You blush and hide your eyes behind your fingers, peeking through them to see him grinning at you.

“I love you so much,” he sighs, resting his hands on the slope of your hips as he grows soft inside you.

“I love you so much, Eddie,” you smile, reaching down to squeeze his fingers gently.

With a hiss, he pulls out of you, propping himself up on his elbow to watch his cum slowly slide out of you. Eddie smirks and in tenderly possessive motion, he pools the release in his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“That belongs in there,” he tsks, booping your clit with his pointer finger before sitting up with a grin plastered on his face.

“I mean, my handy dandy birth control is going to say otherwise but…” you reply with a chuckle, sitting up on shaky elbows to look at him. He shakes his head and shrugs, curls bouncing around his pretty face.

“I just want you to remember who came inside you and made you come three fucking times while we’re sitting there with your parents and they’re grilling me about my intentions with their daughter,” he concludes, hopping up from the bed and pulling on his boxers.

“So that was your little plan? Remind me how much you’re worth keeping around with how hard and fast you can get me off just in case tonight goes south?” you guffaw, knowing that wasn’t truly his plan, but ribbing him nonetheless. You stand up from the bed, and immediately buckle. He holds out a hand as your wobbly knees threaten you again, but you manage to steady yourself against him.

“Well, I mean it’s true. I do make you come,” he pecks a cheeky kiss against your lips, “a lot. And I do want to remind you of that. All the time. But I just needed you. And hey look, we aren’t even going to be late,” he points out happily, gesturing towards the glowing red alarm clock on your bedside.

You weren’t going to be late, but you both definitely need to hurry to dress and get out the door. With nimble fingers, you help Eddie button his shirt, smoothing over the soft wrinkles that he had neglected to press out. You toss on your dress, settling for something simple but classic paired with a dainty set of opal earrings Eddie had gifted you for your birthday.

Eddie sighs, finally dry curls bobbing around his face as he gazes into the full length mirror, no ripped jeans, no band t-shirt, no rings or chains, dressed head to toe in an outfit that makes him look like a schoolboy. He frowns at his appearance, trying to hide his expression when he sees you peer over his shoulder.

“You look great, but you don’t look like you,” you ponder, scurrying away to grab a few things off his dresser, the heavy objects clinking in your palm as you bounce back to him.

You slip behind him, securing his signature chain with a guitar pick around his throat before slithering around to his front to undo a few shirt buttons, framing the glittering chain against his pale collarbones. You grab his left hand, slipping on the grinning skull, pig, and cross in a neat row on his pointer, middle, and ring fingers respectively. With a tender motion, you slip his bejeweled class ring on the ring finger of his right hand.

You step back, admiring your handiwork before lightly fluffing your fingers through his curls. Eddie practically glows under your gaze, soft wavy ringlets haloed around his head, ochre eyes shining with fear, hope, and love.

“There, much better. Still the Eddie I know and love but with a twist,” you beam up at him before grabbing his shaking hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and puffs out his cheeks with a great sigh.

“Ready?” you ask, leading him slowly toward the front door.

“Ready.”

Little taglist of people who I thought might want to read: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @seidenbros @thisishellfire @wroteclassicaly @a-time-for-wolvess @kissmecaiti

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #joesph quinn #joe quinn

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mtnkat3 · 1 year

Text

Let's see how to write this...

[Stop being distracted by bones! Drowsy. Turkey.]

9.56pm. Diary.

When I think about bridges & you ..

I think about several different types on my journey to you .

That I am standing on one end of a damaged & dangerous broken down covered bridge. The road surface is warped, bent & twisted. The nails rusty & sticking up all over the place. It's a maze.. worthy of any treasure hunt but not to a temple of doom!

You .. are both light.. & standing in the light. Like my guardian Angels ..

Awe inspiring.

My feet moving slowly but steadily towards where you are patiently waiting on me.. your souls pulling me.. like a .. stars magnetic force & a bears honey pot rolled into one..

Then there's the wide open trestle bridge.. that one that makes me so nervous because there's no safety rails & the drop.. it's as impressive as the new river gorge.. & the grandfather mountain mile high swinging bridge..

those.. I need to feel you .. surrounding me.. pressed into me.. those.. as much as am fascinated & wanna experience them.. I know I can't alone. I just.. fills my tummy with butterflies.. & not the wonderful ones that you give me.. chewing my lips.

Ok. The next kind.. the sturdy kind.

The bridges made of concrete, metals, wood. Aesthetically pleasing but also very useful. Some are over small wee lil tricklin brooks, not meant for a rushing torrent of water. Not a flood. Others .. are built .. well.. to withstand floods.. they are attached.. rooted deeply..

like a strong, sturdy redwood forest.. or a mighty oak.. undisturbed for hundreds of years. Have withstood every storm, every flood. The rings are magnificent. The breadth.. so inspiring.. it's like.. the most tactile, earthly version of looking at the stars. And being able to touch makes me gasp..

then.. I feel like .. I'm stronger.. able to walk to you .. I feel .. surrounded.. by you .. by love.. it pulses power thru my veins.. keeps me remembering why I I won't let ever let go. It's feeding my soul.. even as I feel it's on a never ending loop. So many breathtaking images going thru my soul as I think on this.

But words are struggling.. maybe because I wanna leave them private, in my diary.. but I need to talk to you .. & that right now means exposing myself. Being vulnerable. Maybe.. the fear.. its founded in rejections & the pain. Maybe.. it's that I am capable of being so with you .. but showing the world my sensitive soul.. my marshmallow heart & soul.. it fills me with trepidation. But. I do it. For you ..

I just.. words fall me when I think about you .. but I keep trying.. my soul's the part that finds the words.. I hope I've explained a wee bit of how I feel about you .. about trees.. bridges.. the stars & all the universe you show me.. when you .. guide me.. I feel love.. I feel you .. & no matter how crazy that sounds to others.. I am flying around the moon at the feel of you lovin me..

Now I'm sleepy.. I've fought off the turkey to write this to you .. but I need to go to bed.. hopefully I can be.. naughty.. oh I so wanna be.. but with you .. hhmmm... squirming sleepily..

I love you .

& miss you so.. its shredding my spine like a cat-o'-nine tails.

Pleasee... touch me.. crave the scent of me.. the way I move.. crave.. my vibe.. who I am. The woman God Created beside you .. because I always want your neck kisses.. they melt me.. into a puddle of kat goo at your feet..

Please.. let's make soul love in our dreams..

I work. I await. On my cliffside. For you .. I'll wait for eternity. Because I believe. But I think it's happening soon.. & I am oh so ever hungry... you .

~True love never dies & true love always waits.~

Your fighting sleep kat.

Your complex quirky warrior queen daughter.

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. ✝️🌺🐾🐯

🥰😍😘😌🤓⚓🙏🙇‍♀️⛓

⌚💡⚡🌠🗝🔱⚜💝🐻🦌🧩♠️♾🎯🌎🧭🕯

Tu.11.29.2022 12.11am est.

Gifs & transfer. 12.52am.

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somnambulants · 3 years

Note

hi!! i was just wondering if i could request more yelena where yelena introduces her gf to natasha and her family and she’s uncharacteristically nervous so nat finds it amusing? thank you :)

a bit of minor surgery

summary: Yelena tries to keep you to herself but her family has other ideas word count: 1.7K notes: so this is a little different to what you asked for but i hope you still like it! for the sake of this, nat, yelena, alexei and melina are just one happy family

“But if we –"

Natasha holds up a hand and Yelena stops talking. “Do you hear that?”

It’s faint but there’s the sound of someone moving around on her apartment floor. Being the only person who lives on this floor and one of the few in this building is enough for this to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

Survival for them has always meant constant vigilance.

Both of their heads swivel towards the front door as the footsteps become louder, very clearly approaching her apartment.

Yelena doesn’t have to look to know Natasha is mirroring her, pulling out her gun and scanning every entry-way for possible intruders.

On edge, Yelena presses herself against the door, readying herself until she listens properly and realises the approaching footsteps sound familiar.

Somehow, she feels herself relax and become even more tense at the same time.

“Stop,” she says as Natasha moves towards the door as well, holding an arm out to stop her. “It’s okay. I know who it is.”

At her words Natasha relaxes, putting her gun away but she watches her face carefully as she does so.

The panic Yelena can feel building inside her must not be as well hidden as she thought because a slow grin spreads across her face as the sound of a gentle knock echoes through Yelena’s apartment.

“Is it..?”

“Yes,” Yelena replies curtly. “And no. You can’t meet them.”

Natasha gives her a wicked look, clicking her teeth together teasingly. “What? Scared I’ll…eat them?”

She snickers as Yelena reaches out and shoves her hard enough to knock the air out of her while also giving her a firm and clear: im going to kill you if you don't listen to me look as she goes to open the door.

Not that it's ever stopped Natasha before.

“Just stay there,” Yelena hisses and then wrenches the door open, finding you behind it with your hand still mid-air, prepared to knock a second time.

“Y/N!”

“Hi,” you say, looking a little startled but smiling at her none the less as you drop your hand.

Beside her and thankfully, just out of your view, Natasha, to her credit, is silent but Yelena can feel her gaze glued to her face and can especially feel the amusement radiating off her in waves.

She grits her teeth, forcing a smile. Your own fades a little as you take her in. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Yelena says quickly. Still out of sight, Natasha lets out a huff of laughter just quiet enough that she hopes she’s the only one that hears her.

“Not at all,” she adds, and since the door covers most of her body, it’s safe for her to reach out and pinch Natasha on the arm. Which is what she does. Hard. “Just --give me a second?”

Clearly still puzzled, you nod and Yelena closes the door, giving you a smile that she has a feeling looks more like a grimace.

Next she grabs Natasha by the arm and starts walking her forcibly towards the window. “Out.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow as she pulls them to an abrupt stop, looking at her then looking out the window. “You seriously want me to scale ten stories because you’re an idiot?”

As an answer, Yelena unlocks the latch and lets the window sweep open, giving her a pointed look that says: Yes. Obviously.

Natasha rolls her eyes but to Yelena’s relief, she slides out the window.

“неудачник,” is all she says in parting before she disappears, dropping down the stairwell and vanishing from sight completely.

The word lingers in the air after her: Loser.

Yelena scowls after her for a second before she rushes back to the door and opens it, letting out a sigh of relief when she sees you’re still there, standing in the same spot.

“Sorry,” she apologises, swinging the door open. “There was just a uh, complication....a spider. I caught it and put it outside. I know you hate them.”

As she speaks, you slowly raise one eyebrow at her. The other quickly follows and it's then that she notices the narrowed look in your eyes.

When you start speaking, your voice is low and scarily calm. “So it has nothing to do with the woman I just made eye contact with as she was climbing down your fire escape?”

Something Yelena is proud to say is that in her life there have been very few times she’s been at a loss for words.

This however is one of them.

She stares at you, blankly, knowing her panic must be showing on her face by the way your expression progressively becomes darker and darker as seconds pass and she fumbles frantically for something to say.

“I, uh, she is, she, uh –”

“—Natasha Romanoff. Nice to meet you.”

To her credit, Natasha has always been the stealthier of the two of them. Ignoring that fact, Yelena chooses to believe that her being distracted by you is why she doesn’t hear her coming back up the stairwell.

She also chooses to believe that she didn’t visibly jump at the sound of her voice and that the cough Natasha lets out is genuine and not covering up a laugh that says she’s going to mock her mercilessly for this entire thing later.

Of course, Yelena can’t fool herself but she tries anyway.

You look even more unimpressed as Natasha comes to a stop beside her and it clicks in Yelena’s head that you think her and Natasha – her and Natasha. She can’t even finish the thought.

As funny as it is, she doesn’t let herself laugh, knowing instinctively that it’s not a good idea. The flinty look in your eyes just confirms how much of a not good idea that is.

Just because you weren’t raised like her doesn’t mean that you couldn’t pack a punch; something she learned early on in your relationship when she’d accidentally snuck up on you once. She’d had a black eye for weeks after that.

“Natasha is my --” she isn’t sure how to say: ‘this is the woman I was trained to kill people with while we grew up being tortured and experimented on, remember I told you?’ In a way that won’t make you go running for the hills.

As she trails off, Natasha, sensing her panic, jumps in. Yelena knows that internally, she must be laughing hysterically though to her merit, she keeps it to herself. “I’m her… sister. Of sorts.”

You know about her past – all of what she was willing to repeat of it anyway – so comprehension quickly dawns on your face.

“Then why…?”

She watches as Natasha’s mouth twitches, sounding amused as she directly addresses you: “Well... my sister is an idiot. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Yelena tenses as you give her a once over, raking your eyes over her consideringly, before you turn back to Natasha. “I may have noticed that. Yes.”

"Hey," Yelena protests, weakly. "That's not fair."

You give her a pointed look and she falls silent. Resigned to her fate, she lets out a sigh.

She can tell from the matching scheming looks brewing in both your own and Natasha’s eyes that this is only going to be the start of her own personal torment.

The one thing she really, really hates about her family is that they have this habit of showing up unannounced – you’d think that the whole being assassins and consequently, a little trigger happy as a result would make someone call ahead but no.

Never.

For this reason, it comes as no surprise when there’s the familiar three tap repetitive secret knock knock knock they had all come up with years ago on her front door early the following morning.

Silently, Yelena prays you don’t hear it and stay asleep as she drags herself out of bed and prepares herself for what she’s about to deal with.

Truthfully, she’s a little surprised that they’d had enough tact to wait until morning. She’d half expected them to be knocking her door down the second Natasha relayed last nights events to them.

Yanking the door open, she comes face-to-face with Alexei and Melina. Taking them both in and cataloguing mentally that they look alive and uninjured, she lets herself glare at both of them.

“Is something wrong?”

They both frown. “No?”

“Okay I’m closing the door then.”

She starts to swing it shut but it’s quickly caught as Alexei shoves a foot in between it and the doorframe, giving her a reproachful look.

“Is your –”

“Yes,” Yelena interrupts, scowling harder than before, if that was even possible. “Now, leave.”

The look on Alexei’s face shifts, now suddenly a little too much on the wrong side of sneaky. “Can we—”

“No.”

“But–"

“I don’t care. You can’t meet them,” she barks, probably too loudly, as she shoves him back out into the hallway. If she has to throw them bodily out of here, she will. It just would likely attract your attention, which is the opposite of what she wants. “They’re asleep.”

“We can wake them,” he suggests, unhelpfully.

Yelena glares at him harder. “No.”

It’s faint but all of a sudden, she can hear the sound of a door squeaking as it opens. Her bedroom door to be more exact. Your voice calling out to her quickly follows.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m closing the door now.”

“Hey, no wait –” Alexei starts to protest. Yelena closes the door firmly in their faces and is working on dead-bolting it just as you appear in her line of sight.

You blink at her blearily, wearing just one of her T-shirts and nothing else. Thank god she hadn’t let them in. “Who was that?”

“Neighbours,” Yelena lies. “Looking for their …cat.”

Still half asleep, you don’t think to question her and she sags against the door in relief as you venture into the kitchen in search of coffee.

To her relief, there are no subsequent persistent knocks or calls through the door and after a second, she can hear the quiet sound of footsteps and Alexei��s grumbling as they retreat.

Natasha is one thing – their parents or pseudo-parents or whatever they are – are another thing entirely. She’d save that one for another day.

Or never, preferably.

#yelena belova x reader

1K notes · View notes

p33paw · 3 years

Text

broken contract

zhongli x f!reader

summary | breaking a promise to zhongli, and paying the price with spread legs (pwp, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, praise kink, sir kink, degrading kink)

warnings | nsfw

word count | ~10k

links | ao3

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

But— Beidou is only in town for the day, a short stop sandwiched between two several month long expeditions spent sailing the sea, too far away for contact. We settled to meet at the Third-Round Knockout. Her, me, a table of food, and all morning to talk before she visits the other people she cares about. We each got a single drink to toast with, then one became two, two became three, and... well...

I might be drunk in the middle of the day.

"Zhongli is going to kill me—" I groan, planting my head into my arms, leaning into the table.

I was supposed to meet with him today as well, as soon as Beidou's left. I can feel the heat on my flushed face where it connects with my skin. I'm drunk. He hates when I drink, enough that he told me to never drink before I see him.

Beidou grunts, and I hear the creak of her chair as she leans back in it.

"What's with you and that old man?" She asks, followed by the thud of her empty glass hitting the table. She calls for another round, and I groan again, tilting my head up to look at her.

"Wha'd'you mean?" I ask, pouting my lower lip out.

Beidou squints at me, then lifts her hands to gesture.

"Are you—" She holds her tongue with her teeth, a look of concentration knitting her brow. She forms her index finger and thumb on one hand into a circle, then pushes her other pointer finger out, jamming it into the circle she created. "—y'know."

As she continues to thrust her finger into the space created by her hand, the waiter approaches, dropping two new drinks in front of us. Beidou doesn't notice, but she's shot a dirty look.

I squint at her, knowing exactly what she's asking, but refusing to answer truthfully.

"No?" I sit all the way up, batting my eyelashes to antagonize her. "What are you talking about?" As I finish speaking, I lift my new drink, sipping it to keep my buzz if this is the conversation we're having.

Beidou blinks back, a delirious and gullible look in her eyes.

"Are you gonna go have sex with him?" She asks, point blank.

I choke on my drink, not expecting to hear the question. I have to take a moment to steady myself, eyes flicking up to Beidou as she crosses her arms and stares me down.

"I— I—" I blink, stumbling over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. I settle for a jab back, looking at Beidou with as much courage as I can muster. "Are you gonna go have sex with Ningguang?" I ask.

Beidou's brows tick in, a no less severe expression on her face. "Of course." She says, just as brash. "Now answer my question."

I falter, pursing my lips. Damn, I thought that would buy me more time.

"I'm—" I start, trying to look up and meet her eyes. I end up shying away from her severe stare, hiding in my drink. "Yes." I admit, no way around it. "We are... involved."

"Involved?" Asks Beidou, leaning in, "Like more than just having sex?"

I suck my lower lip in, hesitant to talk about it. This is something that happened recently, more than a month after Beidou last left Liyue Harbor. My hands instinctively come together, my fingers resting on a bracelet that was a gift from Zhongli. He called it the contract of what we have between us, the guarantee of the promises we've made each other, and the reminder than I belong to him. There's no official title, but...

"A lot more than just sex." I say.

Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.

Before she can get another word out, the door to the tavern swings open with a slam. Beidou and I both crane our necks to look. Standing in the entryway, tall, elegant and beautiful, is lady Ningguang. Her eyes are locked to Beidou though, and intimidating enough that I find myself faltering.

She walks in, tailed by two guards.

"You're in trouble now—" I whisper back, trying to make myself look at small as possible.

Beidou shoots me a glare of her own, before pulling her face into a wide smile, staring at Ningguang as she approaches.

"Hey—y my beautiful flower, has anyone told you how lovely and gentle and beautiful and intelligent and—" Beidou starts, interrupted by Ningguang.

"I've been waiting for hours." Ningguang says, voice severe, barely flicking her eyes over to me. She gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment and I blink back in surprise.

Beidou squints at her. "I— told you I'd finish lunch at twelve." She says as looks over to me. "My friends are just as important to me—"

Ningguang immediately reaches to her side, pulling a pocket watch from a chain where it's fastened. She flips it open, pushing it forward, directly toward Beidou. Beidou leans in, lifting her brows as she reads the time, surprise clear in her expression.

"Now what does that say?" Ningguang asks, staring Beidou down.

Beidou swallows, eyes flicking up to stare at the other woman. "Two-oh-six." She says, lifting her drink, finishing it in a single swig, dropping the empty glass to the table, then slowly starting to stand.

Shit. I promised Zhongli I'd be done by noon, myself.

Beidou turns to me once standing, reaching a hand over to clasp my shoulder. "I'm glad to have seen you," She starts, "If my next adventure finds me dead—" She nervously glances toward Ningguang, "Know that you were my greatest friend." At that, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out and slamming down a satchel of mora that is certainly— more than enough to pay our tab. She turns, walking away from the table.

Ningguang smiles, small, watching Beidou approach her, before turning her gaze to me. "I'm sorry for interrupting—" She says, lifting her hands together, looking apologetic. "I'm sure you understand?"

I nod, giving her a reassuring smile of my own. "I had plenty of time with her." I say back, waving her off.

I lift to my feet to stand and leave as well, met with a head rush that makes me waver. I have to shoot my hands out to the table to steady myself, coming into the realization that I drank much more than I should have.

A hand darts forward, landing on my arm, holding me steady.

"Are you alright?" I hear Ningguang ask, much closer than before.

I nod, slowly blinking, trying to focus my eyes, batting her away.

"I'm fine— just a bit—" As I try to step away, I stumble, barely catching myself on another table. "—drunk." I sigh out, then look up to Beidou to glare. "I hate you." I bite out. I always try to drink as much as her, and, inevitably, end up far drunker.

Beidou gives me a toothy grin, shrugging. "Learn to hold your liquor." She says.

Still next to me, Ningguang turns to glare at Beidou, until the smile slips from her face. She looks to the side, sheepish.

"You're in no condition to get home alone." Ningguang says, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers together.

One of the two guards steps forward, at attention, walking up next to us.

"Assure that she arrives home safely." She says, voice stern, before turning back to meet my eyes again. "If you tell him where you live he'll get you home. Let me know if there are any problems." She says, then steps away before I can protest, back to Beidou's side.

Together, the two turn, walking for the exit. Beidou looks back, giving me another wave as she's ushered away, until the door swings shut behind them, and I'm alone with the guard.

"Where do you live, ma'am?" He asks.

I look up at him, feeling sheepish. I'm drunk, that doesn't mean a need a guard to walk me home.

"You can— leave me." I start. "I'm more than capable of getting home, I'm not sure why Lady Ningguang even—" I take the first step forward, lose my footing, and fall over face first, collapsing to the ground.

I groan, collecting myself and sitting up, blowing a stressed breath. Maybe it's good Beidou's only home a few days a year, she'd drink me into an early death otherwise.

The guard's hands land on me this time, helping me to stand. I let him, but once I'm up, the hands don't come off. Instead, I'm lifted up into his arms, until he's carrying me.

"Just tell me where to go." The guard starts, looking embarrassed for me. "Ma'am."

I huff a sigh with half a mind to struggle to get out of his hold— but— realize it isn't worth it. I would probably just fall on my ass if I attempted to walk anywhere, this is likely for the best.

Now, I have to consider my options. Fake sick and abandon my plans with Zhongli because I'm in no state to meet him, or—

Zhongli's address spills from my mouth, something selfish and needy rearing in my chest. I want to see him, I don't care how much trouble I'll be in once he sees my current state.

The guard nods, walking forward with me in his arms. It's foreign to exit a bar belligerently drunk and see it's still the middle of the day. The outside is busy with working people despite the clouds in the sky and the threat of rain looming above them.

I hide my face in my own shoulder, embarrassed as the guard strides forward, down the streets, deeper into the city, carrying me to where Zhongli lives. The closer we approach, the more nervous I get, mind racing at how he might react to the mistake I've made.

I really shouldn't be drunk.

My stomach twists as I spot Zhongli's home, and consider my current position. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is— I don't need him to see me in another man's arms. I lift my hand, tapping the shoulder of the guard, signaling to be let down. The guard listens, lowering me to my feet. I have to take a second to balance myself, but finally find my bearings, walking forward to close what feels like an immeasurable distance between me and Zhongli.

I approach his threshold, but before I can knock, the door opens. Zhongli stands in the entryway, his eyes flicking between me and the guard at my back, his expression set.

"Didn't we agree you'd arrive by noon?" He asks, finally staring at just me.

I nod, then stumble toward him. He receives me in his arms, holding me tight as I bury myself in his chest. His arms feel massive as they wrap me, cradling me like I'm something fragile. I drag in an inhale, breathing in the scent of clear spring and mountain air that seems ever present on him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.

I tilt my head back to look at him, and see his face is knit with concern. I nod, staring up at him through my lashes.

"I'm— f-fine." I slur out, then watch as Zhongli's brow ticks in.

There's a drop in my stomach as it happens, knowing he's become aware of what's made me late. He looks away from me, up to the guard.

"Thank you." He says, voice firm, before guiding me into his house.

"I'm sorry—" I try to start, keeping pressed to his side, my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

Zhongli closes the door, soft, careful, before turning to look at me again.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, disappointment clear in his voice.

I nod, moving my hands against his abdomen. I keep touching, grabbing, pawing at him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, lifting my hand to his chest. "Can I make it up to you? I—"

Zhongli catches me at the wrist, holding my hands still. He sighs, then walks away without another word. I stay in place, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist, restlessness and guilt twisting my stomach, as I wait, I hear water start to run.

He reappears, walking straight for me. He lands his hands on me in silence, lifting me into his arms. I curl my fingers into his shoulder, holding tight as he carries me to the bathroom. I look around, noting that the bath is running, filling with water.

I'm carefully lowered to my feet, then Zhongli steps back, creating distance, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks right at me.

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.

I shake my head no, stumbling over my own feet as I grab the hem of my dress, lifting it up and off. It falls to the floor with a thump. Standing in my undergarments, I can feel Zhongli's eyes on me, burning me in the way they flick across my body, studying me. I embarrass, shoving my panties down and off as quickly as I can, shedding my bra even faster, then standing nude with my arms wrapped around my core.

"It's ready for you." Zhongli says next, the sound of water flowing cut short.

I look up to meet his eyes, finding them locked to my body, searching the expanse of it. I carefully step forward, until I'm directly in front of him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, feeling small, watching as his steady gaze locks back to my face.

"It's okay." He says. "We can talk about it later."

I nod, tight, still in my own head. I almost want him to be mad, to express the upset I see clear on his face so that the guilt in my stomach settles. Instead, his words and actions are measured with restraint.

I look away from him toward the bath. It's drawn high, shimmering with soap. I lift my leg, stepping in, until I'm standing in the water. Then, I lower myself in, sinking into the warm feeling that envelops my body.

I glance back over to Zhongli, watching as he walks to the door, sheds his jacket, and hangs it. From there, he turns, walking back toward the bath, removing his gloves, unpinning his cufflinks, slipping them both into his pocket. He carefully rolls his sleeves up his forearms, one at a time.

My heart jumps to my throat as he reveals his arms, thick with muscle and defined veins like his hands, a light ghosting of hair that covers the entire limb. He kneels next to the tub, lifting a bottle of soap. He pours the soap into his hands, then pushes those hands forward, landing them on my body.

"I'm sorry." I repeat, voice as small as I can make it, searching the hard line of his unwavering expression.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, piercing in the way they look at me. He slides his soaped hand against my skin, over my chest, up to my neck. He rests there, caressing with his thumb, keeping his eyes on me.

"You reek of alcohol." He says, voice low and gentle. "Didn't you promise to never drink before seeing me?"

I duck my head, heart jumping to my throat. I nod, tight. "Yes." I breathe out, blinking down to watch my hands curl around each other underneath the water. "I'm sorry." I repeat.

Zhongli says no more, but continues to move his hands. He drags them along me with purpose, washing every square inch of my body in silence, before he's up, grabbing a toothbrush from his counter. He kneels back down, holding the brush, staring at me.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" He coaxes.

I swallow around my tongue, but do, just parting my lips.

Zhongli's free hand comes up, cupping my face. His thumb forces between my lips, pressing to my bottom row of teeth. He opens my mouth, pulling his thumb back, only to dig his fingers into my cheeks, holding my face in place. He moves forward with the toothbrush, pushing it into my mouth, watching it go in, all while I search his face.

He starts to move, brushing the caps of my teeth, moving the brush in and out of my mouth, dragging it against my lips. I find my eyes fluttering shut, embarrassment overwhelming me.

All of this is because I couldn't control myself, and now, I have to be cared for. He finishes brushing my teeth, allows me to rinse, then pulls the plug from the bath. He stands up, finds a towel, dries his hands on it, and brings it to me.

"Will you be okay on your own for a moment?" He asks, waiting until I nod in confirmation to stand up and walk away.

Once he's gone, I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I wait in the bath while the water drains, consumed with upset. I just want him to kiss me the way he always does, hold me tight, and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. Instead, I'm helpless as he picks up the pieces of me.

There's a small tremble in my core as I stand up. It's a sinking feeling that acknowledges my fault, a repeated reminder that I'm the one who fucked up and crossed the boundaries we set.

I reach for the towel that Zhongli used, dry off with it, then walk out of the bathroom. I go straight for his bedroom, finding pajamas already laid out for me on the bed. It's a top and bottom set, silken, too large, I lift the buttoned top, slipping it over my head without unbuttoning anything. The hem falls past the middle of my thigh, wearing more like a dress than anything else. I don't bother with the pants.

I poke my fingers from the oversized sleeves, curling them into the fabric at the collar of the shirt, lifting it to my face. I breathe in, finding it rich with the scent that lingers on Zhongli. I nearly buckle, eyes fluttering shut as I breathe it in, grounding myself in it.

When I open my eyes again, reality comes crashing back.

I walk out of the bedroom, eyes peeled for Zhongli. I find him in his kitchen, dropping a mixture of leaves into a pot of still water that sits on a low flame. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he uses them.

I make a noise, watching him, wishing his hands were on me. He glances back.

"You should lay down until the tea is done." He says, quiet.

Though I know it's for the best, I refuse to listen. I shake my head no, walking toward him with uncertainty.

"I don't—" I start, taking a ragged breath. "Are you angry? I don't want you to be upset with me— please, I—" I falter as Zhongli pauses his movement. "Please." I repeat, begging, breathier than last time.

Pin prick tears collect at the corners of my eyes, desperation for reassurance fueling my courage.

Finally, Zhongli turns and approaches me, his expression strained. He lands one hand on my waist, sliding it up my side. His other cups my chin, gentler than I expect, running his thumb along my bottom lip to my cheek.

"Go lay down." He repeats, his face relaxing into something kinder, more familiar. "You'll feel better if you lay down."

I whine, wrapping my arms around him tighter, hesitant to let go now that I've got some of the attention I desperately wanted.

"Do you hate me now?" I ask, voice small.

Zhongli's brows lift, his hand traveling higher to thumb the tear from my eye. He moves in closer, holding eye contact with me.

"Of course not." He says, quiet, holding my face steady to lean in and press a chaste kiss to my lips. "I am upset." He says, his breath warm against my lips, tightening his hand on my waist to pull me closer. "But we can wait to address it when you're sober." He presses another kiss.

Though the words are severe, it's a relief. I press into his lips with all of my might, digging my fingers into his shoulders, steadying myself. He can still love me the same, despite my mistakes.

Zhongli pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, quickly turning to attend to the pot. I finally relax, moving with him, keeping myself pressed against his broad back, my arms looping his waist.

"You're too kind to me." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.

Maybe it's the drive of the alcohol, or the way his hands felt when he ran them along my body as he washed me, or maybe even just his kindness, but I find myself craving intimacy. I carefully drag my hands down his abdomen, grazing my fingers against the fabric of his shirt, until I reach his belt. There, I move carefully, working my fingers to lift the clasp, my other hand dragging down across his lap as I hold my breath.

Zhongli goes still beneath my palms. I move slower, glacially, pressing against his belt. I don't make it far before his hand covers my own, stilling my movement.

"No." He says, voice low and soft. "Not while you're drunk."

I whine, pressing against his back. "But I want to—" I pout.

Zhongli turns to face me, an unfamiliar stern look on his face. "No." He repeats, just as he lands his hands on me and lifts me into his arms.

I'm helplessly carried to his bedroom, then, unceremoniously dumped onto his bed.

"Rest until the tea is done." Zhongli says, an order, before leaning in and pressing a parting kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back when it's ready." He says, then pulls back.

I puff my cheeks out, pouting, but refrain from protest. Zhongli turns, walking back out of the room, leaving me alone. I decide to settle, admitting that he's right, I should lay down. I wrap myself in a comforter, burying my face in his pillows, and let my eyes shut. I find myself relaxing, mind filled with memories of us in this bed together, and how safe I feel here, until I slip into sleep.

***

I open my eyes, disoriented, watching Zhongli's back retreat from the room. I blink slowly, sitting up, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I must've fallen asleep, and, I glance out a window, noting the setting sun in the sky, it must've been for hours.

I take in my surroundings, noticing that to my side is a cup of tea on a plate, billowing a soft cloud of steam. I steady myself before reaching for it, then lift it to drink. It tastes floral, minty, bright against my desensitized tongue.

I blink again, trying to focus my eyes as I recollect the events of the day. I notice a slight ache in my head, and remember the fact that I was drunk.

Embarrassment heats my face, the automatic memory of Zhongli's disappointment in me springing to the forefront. I hide in the cup of tea, willing myself to forget.

It's a useless effort.

Though, as memories come back in, I come to a conclusion: I owe Zhongli my thanks, and maybe another apology.

I tilt the cup of tea back, finishing it despite its temperature, then set the empty cup down on it's plate. I lift from bed, stumbling out to the living area, searching for what I want. I find him lounging, a book open in his hands. He hardly glances up at me, brows raised.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

I ignore the question, striding right for him. I plant a hand on his shoulder, swing my leg over his lap, then crawl on top of him, forcing my way into his hold. His arms come back together behind my back, keeping his book steady.

"Better." I finally mumble, once I'm in his lap.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I'm better." I mumble, pressing my face into his neck, taking care to breathe in a way he can feel. "Thanks to you."

Close like this, I find the same feeling from earlier, a desire for his hands on me, running along my body, the desire to be wanted. I tilt in closer, arching my spine to press our bodies flush. I land a hand on his chest, and slowly drag it down his abdomen.

"Is that so?" Zhongli asks back, voice low, breathy.

I nod into his neck. "You took care of me..." I continue, dragging my hand lower with my goal in mind, resting my fingertips against his belt. "Now I want to take care of you—" My hand ghosts lower, until I'm resting my palm flat against where his cock sits.

I only make it that far before Zhongli's hand covers mine, stopping my movement, pulling it back. I tilt my head back, looking at him with a confused pout. This is the second time he's stopped me. His face is calm, neutral other than the slight uptick in the corner of his lips, his lowered eyes flicking down my face in a controlled way.

"You can't have everything you want." He says, voice low enough my stomach tightens.

He drops my hand from his hold, lifting his own hand to brush my hair from my face. He grazes his fingers against my cheek, holding his eyes on me until I falter, tucking my chin down, embarrassment burning my skin.

He immediately catches my chin, tilting my face back up.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He says, then sighs, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. "You disobeyed our contract, broke my trust and—" His eyes flick across my face, calculating. "—you need to be punished for it."

I swallow, retracting my hands to myself, curling them in the loose fabric of the shirt I'm wearing, unable to look at up at him. This isn't what I expected, but—

"I'm sorry." I mumble, tilting my hips to press against his lap, keeping my legs spread. "You can—"

"No." Zhongli says as his other hand drops to my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold me in place. "What kind of discipline is that?" He asks. "Giving you exactly what you want—" He leans in toward me, until his lips hover next to mine. "Exactly what you're desperate for—" His hand slides up my side, to the bottom of my ribs. "—aren't you?"

I whine, nodding, breaking my thin restraint to roll my hips, pressing our bodies together as close as I can without him being inside of me.

"Please—" I breathe out, not above begging.

Zhongli's hands both drop to my hips, stilling my movement. He handles me with his firm grip, until I'm forced off of his lap. He moves my hips into place, sitting me down on his thigh. He holds me there, his expression relaxed as he stares me down.

"Why don't you show me? Show me how desperate you are." He says.

His leg lifts, pressing against everything bare between my legs, giving a moment of pressure. I nearly buckle, relief and arousal curling in my stomach as I finally feel him stimulate me. Then, he stops. I buck my hips, grinding myself against his thigh, chasing to find the same pressure again.

"That's it—" He coaxes out. "Just like that."

I warm under the praise, looking up at him through my lashes, continuing to move my hips, fucking myself against his clothed thigh. All I have the mind to do is roll my hips, my breaths coming out heavier, cut only by soft moans, the pressure between my legs from my movement enough to stimulate my clit.

"Such a pretty sight—" Zhongli continues, watching me. "—getting yourself off on my thigh." At that, his thigh lifts again, the pressure enough to pull another whine from my throat

His lips twitch to smile as he hears it, his thumbs hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up, just barely, not far enough to expose more than my thighs. He lifts his leg again, pressing until I gasp, clenching around his thigh with my own.

He relaxes his leg as I whimper, leaning in toward him. My hips buck, grinding at a more rapid pace, arousal burning low in my abdomen. I whine, lifting one hand to his bicep, curling my fingers around it, holding on to steady myself.

Zhongli tilts his chin back, watching me through half-lidded eyes.

"I bet you can cum just from my thigh, can't you?" He asks.

I nod, swallowing around my tongue, struggling to keep my eyes open as I roll against his thigh in a rhythm, fighting to stimulate my clit, everything between my legs dripping wet as it slides together.

"Pathetic little girl." Zhongli sighs out. "Undisciplined, so easy to make finish." He lifts a hand, sliding it up my thigh, until he's holding my waist with the shirt hitched up around his wrist.

He exposes me with the motion, his eyes turning down to watch me grind myself against his thigh with short desperate movements.

"I bet you feel good, don't you?" He asks, briefly flicking his eyes back up to my face. "Do you want something?"

I whimper, nodding, the movement of my hips losing rhythm, unevenly jerking against his thigh.

"Use your words." He says back.

"Please— please— let me cum— let me— let me cum—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as I chase the pleasure.

"Not yet. Keep going." Zhongli says back. "I want to hear you keep begging... those little noises you let out when you're desperate."

I blink my eyes back open, searching his face as I nod. Though his expression remains calm, there's a flush collecting on his cheeks. And, when I look down, I see his cock is standing to attention, the fabric of his pants tight around the length. I whimper out another moan, twisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt on his bicep, changing the pace of my hips to move faster, the pleasure drawing me in.

Zhongli lets out a noise, holding my hip tighter to slow my movement. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck, the warmth of his mouth catching my heart in my throat as his lips continue, brushing along my jaw, until he reaches my ear.

"I can tell what you want." He says, voice low. "You always spread your legs for me, beg me to fuck you, like you deserve it." He moves in closer, nipping my earlobe. "Slow down." He demands.

I'm quick to listen, changing the movement of my hips to slow, intentional rolls, careful to stimulate everything between my legs with each movement. He lifts his leg between mine, pressuring until I whimper, arching my back to move with him.

"Such a pretty noise." Zhongli sighs out, relaxing his leg and leaning back again to watch me. "You can be such a good girl when you listen to me."

My eyes flutter shut, heat warming my chest as I bloom from the praise. I move my hips with intent, pleasure at the forefront of my mind.

"Please—" I beg again. "Let me cum, please sir—" The honorific slips off my tongue, followed by a breathless moan.

Zhongli responds with a pleased noise, his hands tensing on my hips.

"Go ahead." He finally assents. "Ruin yourself with nothing but my thigh. Let me see it."

Permission is all it takes, my entire body rocking as I roll against his thigh the final few times, crashing into an orgasm that grips my muscles tight enough I tremble.

I lift from his knee with a broken moan, tilting forward, arching my back as I succumb to my climax.

As I still tremble, coming down from the high, my breathes panted, Zhongli releases my hip, moving to press his hand between my legs. His other hand hooks into the fabric of my shirt, pulling it above my navel, displaying my body to him. His fingers slide against my pussy, eased by the collecting slick. They feel blunt, spreading me open, then—

I gasp as his fingers press to my clit. My still cum sensitive pussy flutters, gripping on air. My body is torn between pressing into it, or jerking away in over-sensitivity. My thighs twitch, abdomen held tight enough to hurt.

"Look at you." Zhongli sighs out, his eyes locked between my legs. "Such a mess just from riding my thigh— spread open like that's all you're good for." He moves his fingers, gently pressing his index and middle to circle my clit, playing with me despite the way I twitch in oversensitivity.

"You're beautiful like this." He breathes. "I can't imagine how beautiful you'll look when I'm inside of you." He says, then finally retracts his hands, landing them both on his belt as he carefully works to unbuckle and open it.

His fingers move quick, intentional, knowledgeable in the way he undoes the clasp. He doesn't go further than that, instead lifting his hand to catch my wrist, pulling it toward his lap. I whine, taking control back as my hand is guided, fumbling to push into his undergarments, wrapping my hand around his cock. He lifts his hips, helping me adjust further, until his cock is free, flushed red with blood, painfully hard, resting against his stomach, exposed.

My stomach tightens just looking at Zhongli's cock. I'm up before I realize I am, sinking to the ground on my knees, directly between his legs. He watches me with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, steadying it as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek, helping me guide in. I push my tongue out, making contact with the head of his cock first. I lap at the slit, the taste of his skin salty on my tongue.

Zhongli's stomach twitches, his cock pulsing in my hand as I finally stimulate him back. I lower my eyes, staring only at his cock, then lean all the way in, taking him into my mouth with a soft moan.

I hear a breathy noise from above me, quiet, and force myself to take his cock deeper, feeling it throb against my tongue.

"Perfect— such a perfect girl—" Zhongli praises, running his fingers through my hair, petting me before he grips again, holding tight. "You know just how to make me feel good— so pretty with my cock down your throat—" He moans again as my mouth tightens. I fight to relax my throat, desperate to take him deeper.

I rock my hips against nothing, like I'm still sat on Zhongli's thigh, moans high in my throat vibrating around his cock. I can feel the arousal between my legs, cascading down my thighs, creating even more of a mess as I move my mouth on his cock, sloppy, focused only on making him feel good as I move my head.

I'm doing well if the constant low moans from Zhongli mean anything.

"Just like that—" He continues to praise. "So good—"

I flutter my eyes shut, forcing myself to take him into my throat again, curling my tongue along the shaft of his cock to follow a vein. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abdomen twitching above me. It lasts for only a moment before a hand lands in my hair, holding tight, pulling me off.

I look at Zhongli with a pout, noticing he looks fucked out of his mind, slowly blinking back at me. I move forward, pushing my tongue out, leaning in open mouthed, desperate for the taste of cum down my throat.

I look up at Zhongli through my lashes, begging with my eyes.

He huffs, blinking down at me. "Not yet." He says. "You don't deserve it yet."

Before I can protest, he releases me, moving his hands back to relax on his thighs.

"Up." He demands.

I nod, swallowing around my nerves, lifting back to my feet on unsteady legs. Zhongli's eyes flick down to my thighs, the slick coating them, glinting in the lowlight. His hands move toward me again, landing on my hips, tugging me closer between his legs. Once he's satisfied with my position, he lifts his hands to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing.

He does each button slowly, intentionally, revealing a new line of skin down my chest, down my stomach, following it with his eyes, until he opens the shirt, putting my body fully on display. I fight to not shy away as he drags his eyes along me, his jaw tensing in restraint.

He doesn't hold for long.

Zhongli's arms wrap my waist, pulling me even closer as he leans in, landing his lips on my stomach. His breath is hot as he drags his mouth across my abdomen, pressing a kiss when he sees fit.

I lift my arms, curling them around his shoulders to cradle his head, one of my knees lifting to rest on his thigh. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, tight, holding me in place. He drops the other, pushing his hand back between my legs. This time, he has a goal in mind, his rough fingers sliding against the soft skin of my pussy just to wet them, before pushing them further back, until the pads of his fingers just rest at my entrance.

I pull in a sharp breath, my legs tensing in anticipation for him to finally be inside of me, even if it's just his fingers. His mouth moves again, up my ribs, to my chest, his breath hot against my breast, his tongue pushing out to lap at my nipple just as— ah.

I gasp, my body tensing as Zhongli's fingers finally push in, two sinking into me, stretching me out as he curls them up, petting my insides. He distracts me by rolling my nipple with his teeth, a pleased noise low in his throat as I react, arching toward his stimulation, melting into his control.

His fingers are slow, careful to not hurt me as he pumps them in and out of me. I flutter my pussy, gripping down, desperate to feel him deeper. I lift my hands, carding them into his hair to hold tight, still cradling his head as he moves his mouth of my breast up to my collar, scraping with his teeth.

I feel the pressure of another finger resting at my entrance and tense my thighs, already stretched tight. His lips move higher, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck as the only warning I get before the third finger pushes in, pulling a whimper from low in my throat.

Zhongli keeps his stimulation gentle, darting his tongue out to drag it up the tendon of my neck, sinking his fingers back into me, stretching me with the taper of his fingers' girth. I tug his hair tight, tight enough to pull him from my neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and look at me. His expression is dark, unsated, desire apparent. I take panted breaths, staring back down at him as I milk his fingers.

"Please—" I breathe out. "Please, sir."

It's all it takes, the corner of Zhongli's lips twitching to smile as he pulls his fingers out of me, dragging a wave of slick with them. I tilt my head down to watch as he leads that hand to his lap, wrapping it around his cock, pumping and wetting the length.

His hand on my waist drops down my hip, guiding me to turn my back to him. He holds tight, lifting and handling me until I'm spread on his lap, my knees planted to either side of his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder. He wraps my waist from behind, holding me in place to his chest.

His other hand stays on his cock, guiding to press the head of it to my pussy. He slides against me, dragging the tip through everything sensitive, before lining up with my entrance. He holds his cock steady, kissing along the length of my shoulder, to my neck, waiting with his lips pressed to my ear.

"Go ahead." He breathes out. "Take it."

I swallow, nodding, looking down my abdomen, staring at his cock where it connects with me. I lift my hands, curling them around the arm he's wrapped my waist with, digging in with my nails to hold tight as I shift my hips, sinking down on his cock. I feel his stomach tighten against my back, a jagged breath escaping his lips as I finally envelop him, lowering onto his cock until I'm resting in his lap, our bodies fully connected.

I only pause for a moment, small moans slipping from my mouth as I adjust to finally being stretched on his cock. I can't help but move, lifting my knees to bounce in his lap, fucking myself.

Zhongli's sucks in a breath once I move, sharp, tightening the hand he has on my waist to hold me in place.

"Not yet." He says, voice low, restrained. "You don't deserve it yet. Sit." He demands.

I whine, fluttering my pussy along the length of his cock, just barely shifting my hips to keep stimulated.

"Please—" I beg again, desperate to move.

"No." He says back, firm in his resolve. "I want to see how desperate you can get—" His free hand drops between my legs, sliding against my pussy to explore where I'm stretched on his cock.

"Keep begging." He sighs out, dragging his fingers to my clit, evenly pressuring.

"Please, I— ah—" I draw in a sharp breath as his mouth continues to move against my shoulder, tightening down on the skin, sucking to bruise.

I whine as he loosens his mouth, dragging his tongue along the mark to soothe it, then moves higher, sucking another.

"I—I—" I swallow around my noises, hips fighting to move as Zhongli keeps me held in place. "I want you to feel good— please—" I manage to gasp out. "Let me— let me make you feel good—"

Zhongli makes a noise, low, that rumbles his chest where it's pressed to my back. He moves his arm from my waist up, dragging his fingers into my soft skin that gives under his touch, up to my neck. He circles my neck with his hand, his palm flat to my throat. His chin hooks over my shoulder, tilting down so he can watch the muscles of my abdomen tense, his fingers still playing between my legs. The hand on my throat tightens, holding me still, until there's a fuzz in my brain, intoxicating in the way he's controlling me.

"I do feel good." He breathes out. "—watching you like this— trembling little thing—" He squeezes the sides of my throat tight, speeding his fingers to a stutter against my clit.

I whimper, entire body pulling tight enough to shake, being forced toward another orgasm quicker than I can handle.

"You can't even control yourself— all those noises— you're so reactive." He tapers off, voice low.

He slows his fingers to more intentional strokes, dragging my orgasm out of me. I shout, eyes rolling back as the feeling overtakes. I dig into his arms with my nails, shaking through it as I cum in waves. It pulses through my abdomen, making me tighten on his cock. He goes until it's too much, continuing to pet my clit even as my hips jerk, whines constant in my throat, body arching away from the stimulation in oversensitivity.

"Please— sir—" I beg again, whining as tears collect in my eyes.

"You should see yourself—" He continues speaking, unfazed despite the way his fingers finally move from my clit, dragging up to rest his palm flat to my twitching abdomen.

I swallow, fighting to open my eyes, head rolling back, thoughts fuzzy.

"I want—" I start, mumbling. "I want to make you feel good— please fuck me—" I beg.

Zhongli huffs a laugh against my back. "So," he starts, soft, "You want—" His hips adjust, his arm steadying me as he finally snaps his hips up, fucking into me once.

It pulls a guttural moan from my throat, my mentality lost as I melt in his hands.

"—this?" He asks, rocking his hips against my ass before pulling back and snapping them again.

I whimper, managing to nod despite the way my head rolls back.

"Yeah— yes—" I mewl out, completely pliant in his hands.

Zhongli hums in consideration, tightening his grip on my hips to hold me still, then finally fucks himself into me, rolling his hips in a rhythm. The room fills with the sound of our skin connecting, my wanton moans a constant that he meets with heavy breaths of his own, unwavering as he fucks himself up into my lax body.

His endurance might be the death of me, his thrusts never stopping as I bounce in his lap from the force he's using to fuck into me, nearly just along for the ride, holding on tight.

I try to last, but don't make it long before the threat of an orgasm builds again, low in my abdomen.

"I'm—" I whimper out, thighs tensing where they bracket him, before crashing into another orgasm.

It rips through my body, hard enough to hurt, every muscle feeling exhausted, weak. Zhongli's hips never slow. Instead, he fucks into me harder, even as I feel myself cry out, face wet from tears and saliva, digging my nails into his arm deep enough to draw blood.

"Please— please— Zhongli—" I whine, tapping his arm, begging for a moment of mercy.

"Pathetic." Zhongli sighs out from behind me, though, he slows his hips to a stop, holding my stomach as I fight to catch my breath.

I try to relax, fluttering around the length of his cock buried inside of me. I realize, sitting down, his lap is soaked. I must have—

"What a messy thing." Zhongli observes first, rocking his hips against me.

"I'm sorry." I whimper out, flexing my numb fingers, trying to get a handle on myself. "I keep— I— it hurts— it's— I'm sorry."

"We can stop." He says, voice finally soft. "If that's what you want."

I'm quick to shake my head, refusing to finish until he's cum, until I've pleased him. I lift my own hips, fighting the ache in my thighs to ride, rolling back into his lap.

Zhongli hums, pleased, pressing his lips to my shoulder. "Good girl." He breathes out. "That's why you're mine."

I nod, moans high, whined, fighting my own body to ride his cock. I move in rough, jerky motions, lifting as far out of his lap as I can manage, sure to drag the full length of his cock out until the head catches my entrance, then sink back down.

I'm encouraged by the noises that start to slip from Zhongli, low, exhaled moans that come in tandem with each bounce. I steady myself, arching my back to ride with as much fervor as I can muster, colliding with his lap as I bounce.

Zhongli's hands begin to tense, his moans more frequent, his stomach tight against my back. It's almost a relief when his hips snap up, colliding into my movement, his cock jerking to flood warmth low in my belly as he exhales a shuddered moan against my shoulder, throbbing inside of me.

Shaking, I lift to my knees, only for Zhongli to pull me right back into place.

"I'm not done with you." He says, voice steady. "You're staying right here. I'll use you again when I feel like it."

I whimper, nodding. I can feel myself throbbing, milking his cock that remains buried inside of me, the mess between us growing.

Zhongli settles back, one arm still looping my waist, the other reaching to his side, lifting the book he was reading earlier.

It's humiliating, crumbling back to lean into his chest, eyes barely staying open, watching as he occupies himself by reading, all while his softening cock is buried inside of me, twitching every time I clench. Though, the break is needed, pain from oversensitivity fading.

He doesn't let me rest much, occasionally pausing only to fuck up into me, his cock growing increasingly hard as the time ticks on, until he's fully erect, rocking against me again. Though, he doesn't seem to react to it, instead continuing to read even as he tilts his hips hard enough noises slip from my throat.

Zhongli holds, unmoving, unwavering, keeping me split open on his cock until I'm throbbing, arousal low in my abdomen demanding I be fucked again. I squirm in his lap, clenching down, desperate for him to react, hold my hips, take what's his.

Instead, he reads his book like he doesn't feel it, feel me pulsing around his cock buried inside of me, cum and slick dripping from my thighs, my stomach warm where he's filled me.

Every movement becomes torture, every breath forcing his cock to move inside of me, teasing in the way it drags along everything sensitive. He continues to let his hips twitch, fucking his cock up into me with no real intent other than to make me whimper.

I only make it so long before I break, tilting my own hips, carefully lifting my knees to bounce in his lap in short, careful motions.

Zhongli notices.

"Did I give you permission?" He asks, voice low, freezing me in place.

I whine, shaking my head.

"N-no—" I mumble out.

Zhongli sighs, lifting his hands, slowly, carefully marking his page and setting the book down. His arm wraps my legs under my knees, lifting and holding them to my chest. His other wraps my waist, holding me in place, then, he stands, still inside of me, carrying me to his bedroom.

He releases me onto his bed on my stomach, keeping his cock locked inside. He presses a hand to the center of my upper back, holding me in place, then finally shifts his hips, pulling his cock out. I whine, clenching on air, feeling the cum-slick mixture pulse from my abused pussy, drooling out, across my clit and out onto the sheets.

Zhongli lets out a low noise at the sight, pressing his hand firmly against my back, before finally stepping away.

I whine once out of contact with him, shifting to flip to my back, look at him carefully slipping out of his clothes. He peels them off, layer by layer, until he's nude, then finally comes back to pay me attention. I lift my knees, keeping my thighs held together, watching as he watches me.

"You need to learn to obey me—" He sighs as he approaches, landing his hands on my thighs, pulling them apart. "You can't get out of trouble just by spreading your legs open and being my whore, no matter how much favor it wins you."

He digs into the soft flesh with his fingers, glancing down between my legs as he slots his cock against my pussy, sliding against it. His fingers hook into the shirt I still have on, roughly jerking the fabric to tear it off my body, until we're both nude.

Zhongli's hips roll, dragging his cock along everything sensitive while he stares at me, a mess in his sheets, twisting my hands and panting, begging for more.

"No one wants a disobedient girl—" He sighs out, shifting his hands up to my hips and holding on tight. He tugs, dragging me down the sheets until my ass hangs over the edge of his bed. He stands between my thighs, leaning in toward me, holding my spread legs upright.

"I'm— sorry—" I choke out again. "I'm sorry, sir."

Zhongli inhales, slow, restrained, staring down at my face. He shifts his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is pressed to me. He moves his hand until he can wrap the base, guiding it lower between my legs until the head rests just at my entrance.

"Beg." He says, low.

I whimper, nodding, a repeated 'please' spilling from my mouth like breath. I rock my hips, feeling the head of his cock catch as it slides against my pussy, desperation taking over the way I lift my hips, until I'm begging with my body, too.

Zhongli slips into a pleased smile, watching me break beneath him, until his hands tighten on my body again, holding me in place.

"You're such a good girl when you listen." He praises, then finally shifts in, pushing his cock inside of me.

I gasp as I feel him enter, eyes rolling back, scrambling to wrap his hips with my legs. My hands lift to my chest, curling there.

I brace as Zhongli drags his cock out, just in time for him to snap his hips forward, fucking into me hard enough I drag up the sheets. There's no mercy in his pace, the snap of his hips rough, colliding into me as he grips my thighs, trying to hold me in place.

I moan with each thrust, pulsing in tandem with the drag of his cock inside of me. I know I look like a mess, but I'm not present enough to care, instead focused on panting through my breaths as he fucks himself into me, the sound of our skin connecting filling the room.

The drag of his cock is perfect, stimulating everything inside of me, keeping me stretched open. I keep moaning, desperate, held tilted back, barely present enough to watch Zhongli fuck himself into me through my lashes.

I have to tilt my chin back, guttural moans carving my throat, entire body pulling tight as Zhongli fucks me like it's nothing. An ache starts in my core, forcing me to grip harder on his cock. It's a familiar tension in my muscles, dragging me closer to an orgasm, his cock pounding against every sensitive spot.

"I'm— I can't—" I sigh out, turning my face into my shoulder through my whimpered moans.

"Already?" Zhongli asks, never slowing the roll of his hips. "Pathetic mewling thing—" He moans himself, guiding his hand to wrap my throat, loosely holding it, digging his other hand into my thigh.

I whimper through my moan, too embarrassed to look at him, the roll of an orgasm building low in my stomach, close enough to hurt.

"I'm—" I manage to whimper out, before cascading into an orgasm, pussy fluttering around the length of Zhongli's cock.

"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.

I can feel my body trembling with the effort, it takes to be fucked, constant mewled moans spilling from my throat. I feel messy, used, my hands curling against my chest as he continues to fuck into me. The drag of his cock overstimulates, my cum sensitive pussy making me desperate enough that my thighs fight to close, preserve what's between them.

Zhongli refuses it, dropping both hands to hold my thighs tight, keeping me spread.

"No." He chastises, breathless. "You'll take it until I'm done."

I mewl out, desperate, darting both of my hands down to hold his forearms, digging in with my nails, jerking my hips as his movement never stops.

"Please—" I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for at this point, shaking with the effort, head rolling back on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir— please— please— it hurts— I'm sorry—"

I look up to Zhongli, pleading with my eyes. It takes a moment, but his expression finally softens, his thrusts slowing until he's resting with his hips flush to my ass, I continue to tremble, clenching around his paused cock. I jump as his hand connects to my chest, his rough skin tenderly dragging down my ribs and abdomen.

He goes to my own hands, prying them from his arms, lifting them until they're above my head. He slots his hand against mine, threading our fingers together, squeezing tight. The motion grounds me, preparing me for when hips rock, gently stimulating me with his cock again.

"You can do it." Zhongli sighs out, rocking himself into me, carefully moving his hips. "Just keep taking my cock like my good girl." He squeezes my hand with his as he talks, tilting his hips back to drag the full length of his cock out of me before fucking it back in.

"You're perfect—" He praises, even as my eyes roll back, "Such a— such a good girl."

I warm under the praise, blinking up at Zhongli as I come back to my body, stretched open on his cock.

"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.

He holds me tighter, leaning in to catch my lips. He exhales against them before we meet, kissing me with an even pressure. I arch into it, heart thumping as I warm from the affection.

Zhongli pulls back, hovering his lips next to mine as he speaks.

"You can do it—" He breathes out. "That's my girl."

I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I relax against the mattress. The drag of his cock in and out of me continues, gentler than before. He rolls his hips against me, breathy moans of his own escaping, a relaxed look on his face.

Zhongli squeezes my hand tight, a grounding motion, before his hips speed, chasing. I lift my shaking legs, wrapping his hips and holding on for the ride, my lax body dragging up the sheets, until, finally, his thrusts lose rhythm again, stuttered movement matching the moaned noises from low in his throat. I watch his face, until his expression breaks, the surrender of ecstasy taking over. There's a catch in his breath, noises low in his throat all warning whats to come.

I flutter around his pulsing cock as it finally jerks, flooding my stomach, his hand holding mine tight enough to hurt.

He watches my face as he cums, looking relaxed, before coming down, meeting my lips with his hips resting flush to my ass. I'm kissed hard enough my head tilts back into the sheets, trembling body otherwise pliant in his hands. He handles me up the bed, to the center, carefully to stay inside of me. I sigh as he relaxes, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, coming down from the high as our bodies continue to rock together, no real chase for pleasure in the movement, just a desire for closeness.

"I'm proud—" Zhongli starts, pressing another kiss to my lips. "—so proud to call you mine."

I muster just enough energy to smile, lifting my hands to thread them into his hair and hold him against my lips a moment longer, before I fully collapse, exhausted.

Looking up at Zhongli, wrapped in his arms, I watch his face soften. The severity of his expression eases, tension melting from him, until he finally seems relaxed.

"I'm sorry." I mumble again, quiet. "I'm sorry for breaking the contract."

Zhongli smiles, soft, bringing a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb along my cheek.

"I forgive you." He says. "It was a mistake."

His hand lifts from my face, grabbing one of my hands at the wrist. He places it above my head, curling his fingers around the bracelet he gave me to signal our bond.

"If you choose to do it again... I won't hesitate to remind you that you belong to me." He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.

I nod, eyes barely open, body sinking into the exhaustion that envelops it, finally feeling settled with the spoken forgiveness.

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

—but, if it means getting punished like this...

I might repeat the mistake.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fic #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x y/n #zhongli

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader wc; 2.2k tags; fluff, coworkers to lovers? a/n: quick fic for my bby lol happy birthday tsukki <33

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tsukishima Kei was tired.

Stepping out into the cold, autumn evening, he rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm his frozen fingers. He thinks the blister he feels forming on his pinky toe was a sign for him to get a new pair of shoes, and this fact was solidified by the ache in his arch with each step he took towards the bus stop.

The day had been longer than most. Maybe if he hadn’t let his brother drag him to the gym and play pick-up games last night, then perhaps his body wouldn’t have felt so sore this morning. And if his body hadn’t been so sore in the morning, then he might have had the energy to grab coffee before work, possibly even pack himself a quick lunch. His mood would have presumably been at least mildly better throughout the day, and he had no doubt that he would have been able to continue on with his work swiftly, and efficiently.

But Tsukishima had learned at a young age that things don’t always work out for him the way he wants them to.

He wasn’t trying to be rude when you came to ask him about his tour schedule, but did you have to burst through his office door so loudly? He felt bad for 2.3 seconds as he watched your smile slowly melt into a frown, but he was way too irked when you rolled your eyes at him when he asked you to knock.

And it wasn’t his fault that he bought the last tuna onigiri from the food stand outside the museum. He forgot to pack lunch, and he was hungry, too. He probably shouldn’t have unwrapped and eaten it right in front of your face, but he doesn’t appreciate getting dirty looks for ordering a meal.

You’re newer to the museum, he knows that. As someone with seniority, he should be a little more helpful, and he could probably work on improving his sociability just a tiny bit, but his patience could only run so thin. It’s not like you ever listened to him anyway.

Should he have told you to figure out the volunteer’s schedule on your own because ‘even a monkey with a banana could do it on their own’? Okay, maybe not.

But did you have to snap at him to ‘keep the stick up his own ass and leave yours alone’ when he warned your tours took too long, and you’d end up leaving late? No, and that’s the last time Tsukishima will ever try to offer advice to a newbie.

Tsukishima sighed. He was tired.

His stomach growled out loud as he pressed the button for the crosswalk, slowly moving to rub his palm along his belly. He’s wondering if he has anything he could make at his apartment. When an image of a rotting bunch of scallions and moldy tomatoes dying in his refrigerator drawer comes to mind, he thinks he’s probably better off grabbing a bento from the convenience store down the street.

The light switches from red to green, and just before Tsukishima steps down from the curb, he feels an arm delicately wrap around his own.

“Hey, babe,” a familiar, annoyingly cheery voice greets him, and he has to stop himself from grimacing when he looks down and his eyes meet yours.

Tsukishima doesn’t think you’ve ever touched him once — not in the last six months since you’ve become his coworker. He had bowed when you were first introduced, and Tsukishima had never been one to hand out hugs or high fives.

He attributes the deep blush that spread across his cheeks to this fact, and not to the feeling of your chest pressed tightly against his side.

“What the —“

“You almost left without me,” you pouted, and Tsukishima nearly tripped over his feet when you swing your body around to switch positions with him, “You’re so silly!”

“Uh,” Tsukishima stammers at the situation at hand, but he stills when he feels your grip tighten painfully around his bicep, and your eyes narrow and widen.

From behind your shoulder, Tsukishima sees it.

The streets were not too crowded, but they weren’t empty. From both sides of the sidewalk, Tsukishima watched as people silently walked past each other in a valiant effort to get home.

This was why Tsukishima almost didn’t notice the man standing beside the lamp post just fifteen feet back, his face half covered by a mask, hoodie pulled all the way over his head with the bill of a black hat just peeking out.

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold when he realized the man is watching you clutch onto him, and Tsukishima does not react when he can feel your nails dig through the material of his sweater.

A look of panic briefly flashes in your eyes when Tsukishima places his hand on top of yours and gently pulls your grip off his sleeve.

“You’re going to ruin my sweater,” Tsukishima mumbles as he drags his hand down the length of your arm and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your mouth drops open in shock when he gives your hand a tight squeeze, “Sweetie.”

He doesn’t wait for you to regain your composure before he drags you across the street. As soon as Tsukishima’s foot lands on the other curb, he glances back at the direction from which you came.

The capped-man was now slowly walking forward, reaching the crosswalk just as the light turned red once more.

Tsukishima quickened his pace down the silent sidewalk, globes of orange light shining down each lamp post you walked past. You said nothing of the sweat that accumulated between both of your nervous palms, still gripping onto Tsukishima’s hand tightly. The size of it nearly engulfs your own, and your hold on him was the only thing allowing you to somewhat keep up with the pace of his strides.

“My bus stop is right over there,” you mumble quietly, and Tsukishima silently thanked the gods you were going the same direction.

He could feel your fingers trembling against his, and Tsukishima gives you a light squeeze.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He was never one to comfort another, and he had never really been in a situation before. But something akin to an ember of rage had been stoked within him as soon as he saw some strange man’s greedy little eyes stuck on you.

The bus arrived just five minutes later, and Tsukishima stayed close behind as you climbed inside. You were lucky enough to find two vacant seats, and you slid into the one beside the window. Tsukishima occupies the aisle seat, stretching his legs out slightly as he watches the stream of people entering and leaving the bus.

It was after an old woman carrying groceries clambered into a seat behind the bus driver did Tsukishima notice him.

He sat by the very front while the two of you occupied seats in the back. A pair of sunglasses now completely masked all of his features, but Tsukishima didn’t need to see his eyes to know who they were trained on.

When you look up at him, dazed and slightly terrified, he gives you a tight-lipped smile. He lets go of your hand, and his heart breaks a little when he sees your eyes dart around in panic. Wordlessly, he reaches over and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side.

You had always been so hot-headed — loud, and passionate, and animated about everything that you do. Tsukishima had known you were trouble from the moment you rearranged one of his displays without even thinking about consulting him, and you had honestly been a headache ever since. You challenged him at every turn, corrected him when he didn’t ask for it, and it was obvious to Tsukishima that you were much too big for him to handle.

But at the moment, feeling so small as you trembled tucked beneath his arm, Tsukishima could only think that he never wanted to see you like this ever again.

His heart crumbles a little when you rest your head against his shoulder.

“So,” Tsukishima’s voice vibrated against your cheek, “The tours ran a bit too long today, didn’t they?”

Tsukishima bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when you turn your head to face him, an incredulous expression decorating your features.

“Is now really an appropriate time for an ‘I told you so’,” You hissed, “You never miss a chance, do you?”

Now, a smug smile has fully settled onto his lips, “Never have, never will.”

You land a punch on Tsukishima’s wide open ribs, and he flinches to the side with a slight ‘oof’. But he tightens his arm around you even more. Swirls of pine and citrus began to calm your nerves, and it took you too long to realize you were inhaling Tsukishima’s cologne. He smelled as clean as he looked, and even after a full day of work, not a single hair of his was out of place.

Your stop was four after Tsukishima’s. He carried your bag from your shoulders as you climbed out of your seat. He stepped aside to allow you to lead the way, but Tsukishima’s chest was nearly pressed against your back with how closely he followed behind.

You hadn’t expected Tsukishima to follow you this far, and as you walked a few steps towards the direction of your apartment, you turned to thank Tsukishima for his aid.

You whip your head side to side when you find that he was no longer walking behind you, curious to see that he was waiting two feet away from the bus’ exit.

You briefly wondered what he was waiting for, and your heart shattered down to the ground when you see the familiar stranger that had been following you since you exited your office building slowly step out.

You didn’t even notice him climb onto the bus. Had he really been there the entire time? Oh god, was he planning to follow you all the way home? Your head begins to spin at the dangerous possibilities that could have unfolded.

“Are you lost?” Tsukishima’s voice was cold and stern, and you could hear it clearly from where you stood.

You watched as the hooded man jolted, clearly shocked at the question directed to him. His face still remained perfectly hidden, but you could tell from his body language that he was not expecting to be addressed.

Tsukishima towered over him, but his six foot five stature had towered nearly everyone. The eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses were narrowed in a glare, and Tsukishima stayed planted in front of your intruder.

“Oh — uh, i— no, just —“

“It’s that way,” Tsukishima didn’t wait for the man to finish his stammering, pointing a long finger towards the opposite direction of your home.

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He twirled on his heels, looking over his shoulders only to see Tsukishima watch as he walked away into the night.

You were frozen, mouth hung so wide open, you were pretty sure bugs had flown in. Tsukishima makes his way back to you, stopping to wrap his arms around your shoulders once again. He tilts his head down at you, looking softly as he asks, “Which way?”

You were at a loss for words, choosing instead to simply lead the way. Tsukishima remained draped over you, like a blanket of protection warding off all evil.

The silence that engulfed the two of you felt comfortable, and on any other day, you might have been appalled to be in such close contact with Tsukishima Kei.

But today, you felt safe. You felt comfort, and relief, and you relax against him, perfectly protected under Tsukishima’s wing.

You sneak a glance up at him, biting your lip as you turn the words you want to say over in your head.

“Tsukishima,” you start, chewing on your lips, “Thank yo—“

“My last tour is usually at 4:45,” he interrupts you, squeezing his hand on your shoulder, “I try to catch up on some paperwork before leaving but…”

He trails off, and you stay silent in fear of ruining what he’s trying to tell you.

He shifts his head away from you as he says, “If you wait for me, I could walk you home.”

You stop in your tracks, looking up at him with a smile. Tsukishima pointedly avoids your gaze, but it’s difficult when he’s keeping you pinned beside him.

“I’d like that,” you mumble before pointing back at the apartment building he hadn’t noticed, “This is my place.”

Tsukishima finally deigns to let you go, stepping back and brushing his fingers through his hair.

“Shorten your tours,” he grumbles out, turning his body back the direction from where he came, “And don’t forget to itemize each piece that comes in for the Date Masumane exhibit tomorrow.”

You stare at him dumbfounded before bursting out in giggles, bringing your hand up in a mock salute.

“I owe you one,” you call out, watching him retreat back from where he came.

He waves you off.

“I like black coffee,” he calls back over his shoulder, “Do what you will with that information.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs v appreciated <33

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x y/n #tsukishima kei drabbles #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima kei scenarios #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei imagines #tsukishima imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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spaceman-earthgirl · 3 years

Text

Supercorptober Day 5: Red

Fic link. Series link.

In their eternally busy lives, it’s nice to be able to slow down sometimes, take a break, even if it’s nearing midnight and it’s only for half an hour.

It’s peaceful up here, not in the sense that she can’t hear anything, the sounds from the city still drifting up to meet her, but in the sense that she feels calm, especially with the woman who’s currently standing beside her.

“How much of that can you hear?” Lena asks, gesturing over the balcony railing in front of them, out towards the lights of National City.

It’s almost like she can read Kara’s mind.

“A lot.” Kara answers honestly. She wasn’t sure they’d ever get back here, back to a point where they’d be able to talk about things like this, with no secrets between them. She loves that she can share all of this with Lena now, all of herself. “It’s dull, and thankfully most people are asleep but I can still hear them if I focus.” She listens, focusing on all the sounds around her instead of just the woman next to her. “I can hear their snoring, their heartbeats, them moving in bed. I can hear the baby who’s crying a few buildings over, whose parents just want her to sleep. I can hear the cleaner a few floors down, listening to music. I can hear the entire city, at least during the night it’s not as loud.”

“Doesn’t that get…too much sometimes, I can’t imagine all that noise.”

“It does, which is why I like going to the fortress sometimes, just for the quiet. Up here is nice too, I can block most of it out, especially if I focus on something else, something more calming.” Kara focuses her senses, blocks out the rest so all she can hear is Lena again. She decides to be honest about this too. “Like now, just focusing on your heartbeat helps, it’s quiet and comforting.”

Kara’s glad it’s dark, the only light coming from Lena’s office behind them, hiding the blush that reddens her cheeks. But then she laughs quietly, when she hears Lena’s heartrate speed up.

“I can hear that too,” Kara says, glancing to the side with a smile. Lena’s cheeks are red too so maybe Lena can see the red in hers.

Lena wraps her arms around herself, hands rubbing her upper arms, and Kara realises she’s cold as she sees goosebumps appear on her skin. She almost suggests they go inside, that Lena should go home, but she’s not quite ready of this moment to end. It’s nice, just the two of them, it feels like they’re in their own little bubble and Kara’s not ready for it to burst just yet.

“Here,” Kara says, unfastening her cape, wrapping it around Lena’s shoulders before she can protest.

“I’m fine,” Lena says, but her words don’t match her actions as she pulls the cape tighter around her shoulders. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome, red is a good colour on you.”

Lena laughs, hands gripping tighter as she settles into the warmth of the material.

Kara will never admit this out loud, but she likes seeing Lena wrapped in her cape, there’s just something about it, the idea of Lena being wrapped in something of hers. It sets off a warmth in her chest, a feeling so strong she has to stop herself from reaching out and taking Lena into her own arms instead.

They glance back out at the city, Lena telling Kara about her day, Kara doing the same. They really have been so busy, it’s nice to see her best friend, for it to just be the two of them, without the distraction of anything or anyone else to get in the way.

It is getting late though, and when Lena stifles a yawn, she knows she should go.

“It’s getting late,” Kara sighs, as if it wasn’t late when she arrived, but she’d seen Lena’s light on as she’d been patrolling, seen Lena still working, and couldn’t help but stop by, both to see her best friend and to make sure she actually goes home to get some sleep.

“It is.” Lena slips the cape from her shoulders and before Kara can reach out and take it, Lena swings it over Kara’s shoulders. Lena steps in close and Kara can barely breath as Lena fastens the cape back to her suit. She feels fingers against her collarbones as Lena makes quick work of attaching the cape, the touch red hot even through the suit. “Much better,” Lena smiles, hands dropping to soothe down Kara’s biceps before they drop away.

Kara’s not breathing at all now, especially because Lena is still in her space, so close that she has to stop herself from reaching out again. Or worse, leaning forward and kissing Lena.

Not that she doesn’t very much want to kiss Lena, but friends don’t do that, friends don’t kiss their friends out of the blue, friends don’t stare at each others mouths, which is exactly what Kara’s just realised she’s doing now, her eyes dropping of their own accord.

It’s not her fault though, Lena’s mouth always looks so soft and so very kissable.

She’s about to look away, and hope that Lena didn’t notice, but then Lena’s pressing up on her toes and suddenly the mouth that she’s looking at is moving closer and then lips are on hers, soft and gentle and then they’re gone again, and Kara would almost think she’d imagined it if not for the fact that green eyes are now watching her uncertainly, Lena’s heartbeat pounding loud in her ears.

“Was that okay?” Lena asks, quiet, nervous.

It takes Kara a moment to answer, still reeling from the fact that Lena just kissed her.

Kara nods, quick, head bobbing fast. “Yes.”

Lena chews on her bottom lip, teeth digging into red flesh, and Rao, Kara wants to kiss her again, her own lips still tingling from the contact.

“Can I kiss you again?” Lena asks, reading her mind again.

“Please,” Kara says, fast, the word rushing out.

Lena laughs, relief clear in her eyes. “Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night too?”

Kara reaches out, tangles their fingers together, just to make sure that this is real, that Lena is in front of her because it seems like she’s being offered everything she’s ever wanted and she wants to make sure she’s not dreaming.

And she also just really wants to hold Lena’s hand.

“I hope you’re asking me on a date because my answer would definitely be yes.”

Lena nods, green eyes bright, even in the darkness around them and Rao, Kara is so in love.

Her eyes dart down again, and she almost just leans forward and kisses Lena, but not yet. “Why now?” she asks instead.

“Because you were looking at my lips again and I only have so much self control. Do you know how often you stare at my mouth? It’s a lot.”

Kara feels her cheeks heat at the confession, and the fact that she thought she was being subtle but clearly not.

“And I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, I’d run out of reasons why I shouldn’t, why we shouldn’t be allowed to have this when I know we both want it.”

Kara reaches out, her own heartrate matching the speed of Lena’s as she uses her free hand to cup Lena’s cheek. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kara admits. They’re being honest tonight, might as well keep it going.

“Me too,” Lena sighs and then lips are on hers again, hesitancy gone as Lena kisses her and Kara kisses her right back, pulls her close like she’s wanted to all night.

She’s never going to let her go.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorptober2021

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anotheranimewriter · 3 years

Text

Past to Present

Request: Hello, can I request ex bf ran when he was in high school with a fem reader that is now dating bonten sanzu pleaseee.

CW: Spoilers Bonten timeline, cursing, and uhhh a little angst and possessive claims from Sanzu..

Italics are flashbacks. This is also super long, but anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

“So remind me. Why aren’t we going to our regular bar?” Ran asked in a rather bored tone, at this point in time he didn’t really care where they were going as long as a drink was promised. He wanted nothing more than to drown in exhaustion down a bottle of bourbon. “Cause this bar is a bit special, got a cutie who works at the bar.” Sanzu replied cheerily in a sing song voice, automatically setting Ran’s high radar off, forcing a groan to leave his lips, because he knew if Sanzu was off his shit, so would his brother, and one idiot was already too much to babysit but the two of them together was nothing short of a disaster waiting to happen.

“C’mon Ran, I just want to know what this ‘special’ girl looks like.. Don't be a killjoy.” Rindo chimed in as they all continued walking down the crowded streets filled with the many different nightlife characters. “We’re here!” Sanzu yelled, halting in front of a rather nice looking bar “Ahh, so this is why you told us to keep our suits on.” Takeomi noted flicking his cigarette onto the street, as Sanzu nodded before swinging the door open to the bar with all the Bonten men following in pursuit.

Walking towards the bar the men sat down beside one another as Sanzu leaned over the bar looking for his ‘Special’ girl, but to avail as he sunk back into the bar stool with a slight pout on his lips as he folded his arms with a slight ‘Hmph’ slipping from his lips “Where is she?” He mumbled to himself trying to rack his brain onto the different areas she could've been and just as he was going to open his mouth to ask one of the other girls there were a pair of soft hands over his eyes “Guess who?” She asked, and as those words hit Ran’s ears he felt a deep sense of longing grown in him.

“Guess who?” She whispered in Ran’s ear as he chuckled, bringing his hands up to her gently pulling them down as he turned to face her with a smirk, as she pouted “Ran! You're no fun! You’re supposed to guess.” She said, rolling her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her waist “Well I could have guessed.. But what if I guessed wrong?” He teased as she gasped “Mr. Haitani, don't tell me you're seeing other young ladies.” She taunted as he let out a soft chuckle “Well lucky for you (Y/N)-chan, no other girl could ever compare to you.” He replied bending down to place a kiss on her forehead as she let out a sigh looking to the side of him as he smirked. Ran knew exactly what she wanted, and he enjoyed teasing her until she was nearly pleading for the display of affection, and just as he was going to cave in and give her what she wanted the school bell had rung loudly above them.

She leaned forward placing a quick kiss on his lips catching him off guard before she turned away from him waving her ‘goodbye’ to him “Must you always be such a good girl?” He called out with a smirk as he watched her walk away from him “Hmm and here I thought that's what you liked about me Haitani.” She replied before turning down the corner and out of his view. Ran knew that she had him wrapped around her finger, and even though he was one of the ruthless brothers of Roppongi, that never mattered to her nor did it change how she viewed him to her he was Ran Haitani, the boy that had stolen her heart, the boy that made her heart jump and took her breath away and for Ran that was enough. She was all he needed, and he couldn't imagine having someone else, all he needed was his brother and her.

But sadly for them, their happiness would not last that long, it was their official 1 year anniversary of their relationship when things took a turn for the worse. Ran and Rindo had gotten into a street brawl with a few others, they were defending their streets of Roppongi and their reputation, with a manic smirk Ran looked over to his brother who returned his expression as they took out the trash. Just as Ran wiped the blood from his chin he took out his phone to check if he had any notifications, and once the light turned on he raised an eyebrow at all the messages and calls he had missed from (Y/N). “Shit.” He mumbled to himself as he looked towards his brother who simply nodded as a signal to let Ran know he would do the dirty work.

Making his way to her home through the dark back streets and as he neared her house he saw her sitting on her stoop with a sweater wrapped around her “(Y/N). I’m sorry I’m late.” Ran said walking towards her on the porch as she shook her head “You’re sorry? You're late? Ran, where were you?” She asked as Ran stopped and stood in front of her giving her a bored expression “I had to defend me and my brother's honor.” He replied calmly as she let out a dry laugh “Now let me ask you another question. What's today Ran?” She asked, finally meeting his eyes as he took quick notice of the tear stains running along her face.

He stood there trying to rack his brain to see if he could figure out what exactly was so important that she would be crying on her porch, and just as he was going to open his mouth she quickly laughed hysterically “You don't even know do you?” She questioned as Ran stood there with his same stoic facial expression as her body began to shake “Let me bandage you put one last time Ran.” She sighed softly as he shook his head “Why is today so important to you?” He asked wanting to know what exactly was going on. “Today wasn’t just important to me… well I mean now I guess it was.” She mumbled to herself as she looked over at Ran once more “We’ve been together for a year, starting today Ran.” She said, with no anger in her voice, only pure hurt.

“Oh, well then I do apologize for being late.” He replied nonchalantly, he knew he screwed up but he also saw from her body language there was no turning back. There had been nothing but signs over the past weeks, signs of their equal distances, their detachment, but he only took it as her understanding his duties to his brother and those who served under them, he would've never guessed that she was preparing herself for his own defeat. He walked up to her porch slowly as she walked into her home, closing the door behind him and once the door was shut no words were shared between the two of them. It was the last night Ran knew true happiness and love, and he ripped it away from himself with his neglect.

“(Y/N)?” Sanzu teased as he spun in his bar stool grabbing her waist as she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he smiled, kissing her neck as he pulled her closer to him. Once Ran had heard that laugh, all their memories poured in like a movie, it was their movie, young and in love, happy and short lived. “Guys, this is my special girl. (Y/N) these are my co-workers.” Sanzu said turning to face everyone as she was forced to shift with him due to his tight embrace, she smiled at all of the men giving them a slight wave but she felt her body tense up when she was met with a familiar set of eyes “Whoa, you okay there doll? Sanzu asked, rubbing her hips softly as she let out a nervous chuckle “Yeah, I’m okay. I should get ready for my shift.” She replied calmly, turning her face to kiss his cheek before walking into the back.

“So your special girl? She's one of your little playthings Sanzu?” Kakucho asked as he rested his elbow against the bar as Sanzu snickered at the accusation “Nah, I dropped all of those cheap things, she’s my girlfriend. My one and only.” Sanzu replied in his once again cheery sing-song voice as the guys shook their heads in pure disbelief. Rindo lightly patted his brother’s back because he knew the multitude of thoughts running through Ran’s head were not good, because before Ran was the girl he let get away, and she got away into the arms of a ruthless murderer, who he has to look at nearly everyday.

“First rounds on me, boys. So order up.” She said returning from the back with a small apron wrapped around her waist as the boys cheered at the bar placing their orders “Are you on the menu miss?” Sanzu teased as she winked at him “Only after hours cutie.” She replied before walking away to prepare the boys drinks. As Ran turned to Sanzu he couldn't help but feel the pull in his chest as he took note of Sanzu’s eyes, those same eyes Ran once looked at her with, the eyes of love. Only for Ran it was a love he had lost and Sanzu had gained.

“Still drink Bourbon?” (Y/N) asked placing the best glass in front of Ran as he stared at her in confusion, she let out a soft sigh before leaning over the bar to be at ear level. “Sometimes, the things the people you loved, loved, just stick with you.” She whispered as she backed away from him to give his brother a hug, causing Ran to look over at Sanzu who didn’t wear the best reaction but he was necessarily surprised towards her actions with the Haitani brothers. “Rindo told me. He told me the minute I locked eyes with her at the shopping center, and even knowing what I did, I couldn’t stop myself.

I had to understand how the great Ran Haitani could just walk away from a woman like her, and as the simple importu late night visits became late night dates, which led to actual dates, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.” Sanzu commented slowly, circling his finger around the rim of his glass “But now that I have her, I don’t care to know. She’s mine now Haitani, and even though I have a small ounce of respect for you, I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull if you get out of line.” Sanzu finished not once raising his voice to cause any alarm between the men, but she knew something was off as she placed her hand over Sanzu’s, and without any words spoken he immediately understood her stance as he flipped their hands over to raise her side to his lips placing a soft kiss on her skin.

“I’m behaving princess.” He said winking at her as she raised an eyebrow to scowl him but decided against it as she carefully removed her hand to attend to the others at the bar. Ran looked between her and Sanzu during their little interaction and he couldn’t help but feel the sting in his chest, as he knew once upon a time it was him giving her that look, and no one else, just her and him. But now it seems like it was nothing short of a dream.

#ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revenger imagines #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revenger #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu haruchiyo imagine #sanzu haruchiyo imagines #ran haitani imagines #ran haitani imagine #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers #anime imagine #anime imagines

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

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Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity.

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character,

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way,

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo.

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets.

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much.

He always held it down.

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan.

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to.

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it.

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons.

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler.

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours.

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short.

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family.

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family.

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again.

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down.

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized.

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders.

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now.

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips.

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead.

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body.

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly.

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?”

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior.

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling.

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously.

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin.

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here.

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends.

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date.

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did.

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home.

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him.

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.”

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine.

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue.

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away.

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate.

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t.

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that.

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that.

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him.

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor.

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy.

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon.

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here.

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip.

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy.

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious.

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+ + +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies.

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely.

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

+ + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past.

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone.

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe.

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible.

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible.

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all.

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right? At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom.

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters.

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror.

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels.

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades.

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight.

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use.

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes.

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted. Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad.

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act.

It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her.

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier. The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI.

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk.

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing.

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof.

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tfatws fanfic #winter soldier

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goldentsum · 3 years

Text

— oh my empress: aoba johsai palace

CHARACTERS: oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro

TAGS: suggestive themes, smut, angst, historical au where women have the ‘superior’ status, pet names, ‘cheating’ but is it really cheating tho? idk empress x concubines have such confusing relationship status, unrequited love, dom-ish! empress! reader, concubine! males, praising

ROUTE: aoba johsai palace: you are here.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this idea was lurking in my mind every single day so i tried to write it HAHAHAHA very angsty tho. unedited bleghhh :p

— oikawa ♡

• a clingy concubine!! he fr thinks that yall should just make it official official so that he can stand by you in the throne room as your one and only man

• he’ll talk smack about the other concubines. it’s canon.

• also, oikawa knows all the gossip in the palace

• oikawa always tells you that he loved you even when you two were younger and no one can ever love you like he loves you

• when he was younger, his mother is one of the officials in court and the woman always brought him along

• and before he knew it, it was normal for him to go to court with his mother.

• oh how he remembers it clearly. you in that soft white kimono, smiling brightly as you giggle, while your handmaidens gently pushing you on the swing. your perfectly adorned hair framing your pretty face.

• you were so beautiful and oikawa just can’t help but know you. though as a male, it would be proven difficult, but his mother was one of the officials and tried to talk to you

• oikawa thought at first that you were a child of another official too and to his big surprise, you were the crown princess!

• you still tease him to this day about how cocky he was at first, trying to impress you.

• he loves it when you spend time with him and go to his room for procreating...

• it always feels like you’ve chosen him. chose him to spend your limited free time with him among your many concubines

• maybe in the future, he can be your prince like you are his glowing empress.

“your highness, i’m really happy that you’re here...” he hic-ed, his lips trembling as he looked up at you with a red blush on his face. his once immaculate kimono draped his body loosely while you run your hands up and down his chest, admiring the milky and soft skin.

you smiled at him and leaned down, placing a small kiss on his forehead making him gasp. you softly whispered against his skin, “i’m here, sweet prince”

oikawa whimpered softly, heart beating harshly at the sweet pet name as tears pricked his eyes. your hands trailed down his stomach, feeling his clenching muscles. you leaned further down, trailing hot wet kisses on his neck, and slowly started grinding on top of him.

the pretty male gasped, his hands flying up to wrap his arms around you. you chuckled at his reaction and the prominent hard-on that was nudging your thigh.

“such a cute reaction you have, sweet prince~” you teased, your hot breath hitting oikawa’s sensitive neck. you let your hand go to his hair, running through the messy tresses and your nails scratching his scalp gently. oikawa’s eyes rolled to his skull and letting his head hung back, giving you more space to his neck. his hips jerking when you continued the slow and agonizing pace of your grinding.

“p-please... y-your highness... touch me more..” he whispered, the massive blush on his skin so delectable. you smiled and faced him. oikawa’s half-lidded eyes stared at you with love and need. you placed a soft kiss on his lips making him moan. the kiss turned messy and hot in an instant.

oikawa opened his mouth, letting your slick tongue in. you swallowed his moans when you started playing with his tongue and your fingers thumbing his nipples. his kimono rustled and crumpled as you moved it off his shoulders.

tooruu loves you so much that it hurts. your soft touch wasn’t making it easier for him to deny you. he tried to shove the feelings he had for you but whenever you smiled at him, it starts to build up again.

it was as easy as that. you had him wrapped around your fingers and you don’t even know.

his hands clenching your red kimono as if he were to loosen even just a bit, you’d disappear. just like before...

— iwaizumi ♡

• an intellectual concubine who deals with affairs in court!

• the other concubines are scared of him!

• but he doesn’t know that so shhh! this baby thinks that they’re just shy and just didn’t know him so they talk to him

• iwaizumi wants to be useful to you. not just a baby maker who comes and goes.

• he never intended to fall in love with you. he really didn’t. he became a concubine because oikawa dragged him into it when the former was up for the exam.

• iwaizumi relented because he thought if he’s at court, he can do something about the oppression that was happening around towards males.

• he wants to change it and he thought that he was just a mere concubine in your court so he can do something about it without having to deal with you. you were an empress that embraced and welcomed many men in your court.

• though, he didn’t know how much he was able to feel so loved when he met you.

• so his objective changed, though only a little. he wants to be called as your lover that changed the views of society.

• but he admits that there was a lot of competition in court. most especially for your affection and attention. iwaizumi saw a lot of other males ruining and fighting when you were not present.

• but he won’t participate in it, he won’t stoop so low. though when another concubine started telling lies about you having favorites and being unfair, he mayhaps fought talked with him.

“y-your majesty! we can’t do this here!” iwaizumi gasped, placing a shaky hand on your arm as you pressed him against the shelves of your private library

you chuckled and leaned against him, trailing kisses with your lips on his neck. you felt him shiver when you placed a wet kiss on his pulse while your hands groped and caressed his body through his thick kimono.

“why not?~” you asked, biting his ear. iwaizumi gasped, his knees buckling a bit while he supported himself on the shelf. iwaizumi always tells you that you shouldn’t waste your time with him. he was so different from the usual concubines in your court. he wasn’t pretty nor delicate like them... but that what makes him so addicting to you.

“i think you deserve a break, sweetie~ i heard all about your accomplishment in my court. may i say how impressed i am” you cooed and leaned a bit to face him. you looked him straight in his eyes making him a little shy at your unwavering gaze that was filled with adoration.

iwaizumi closed his eyes tightly and hugged you, hiding his warm face in your neck. it was inappropriate to just hug the empress like this and normally, he wouldn’t do this but he just felt so much in the moment.

he made you proud. you’re proud of him. it was all for you. you.

iwaizumi heard you chuckled, feeling the light vibration through his clothes. he felt you lean away and he let you. you pressed your forehead against his, caressing his warm red cheek. “you worked hard, hajime”

the man whimpered and pressed a hard and needy kiss on your lips as you hummed in approval. he let you guide him through the kiss as your tongue slithered in his cavern, playing with his tongue.

god, you tasted so good. your lips felt heavenly against him. if he can, he’ll kiss you forever.

your hand trailed up to his hair, massaging his scalp and he moaned into the kiss. you felt the hard nudge against your thigh which make you smirk, as much as you can while kissing.

you then jutted your leg between his, your thigh pressing against his hard-on. iwaizumi gasped, holding onto you.

he looked into you and he shivered when he saw your dark gaze as your eyes swirled with lust.

before he can do anything, a voice called out from the door outside. “your highness? the court awaits for you in the throne room”

you sighed in annoyance but slowly removed your body away from iwaizumi which made the male whine unconsciously at the lost of your heat. you smiled at him and held his face, swiping your thumb lightly against his pink lips. “i’ll see you later, sweets~” and went out of the library, leaving him alone in silence and with his thoughts.

the male sighed.

hajime knows he can’t make you love him like he loves you but that’s okay. as long as he gets to be by your side, it’s okay. it really was okay... to be able to hold you was a miracle for him and he ended up loving you way too much.

not many would remember him and his work in your court but he wishes something more than anything else.

when all of these moments pass and he’s all but a grain in the wide earth, he hopes that the world can remember how much he loved you.

— matsukawa ♡

• mattsun doesn’t know how he got in your court tbh

• he was just lounging around his estate then his mother slammed his door open and told him he’s gonna be a concubine for the empress

• at first he doesn’t know what to feel cus a concubine? for the empress? him? fr?

• though when he met you, you were kinda intimidating tbh. he was nervous because he knows the status of men in court and in society in general.

• but when he found out that you were chill about it and actually cared about him well them?

• he mayhaps softened

• mattsun is usually seen in the garden with makki, just talking shit about some desperate concubines they see around

• when you started visiting him in the palace he resides in with the other 3, he thought he was sick with how fast his heart was beating.

• he never really paid any attention to other women, finding them annoying with how boasty they get about their status whenever he’s in a match-making visit.

• but you talked to him like he was a human being, like you see him for him and not his status in society.

• when mattsun gets comfortable, he’s very tease-y because he likes hearing you laugh. call him whipped but he doesn’t care.

• he wants to see your bright eyes looking at him. him. just him. your smile sent towards his way.

• when you consummated that one night for the first time, he got overwhelmed with the way you were soft and let him lead though still maintaining your aura of authority.

• whenever he thinks about that night, the butterflies in his stomach starts again. mattsun would thank his mother right now if he can for letting him have the opportunity to meet you and to actually hold you.

you chuckled when he started pecking your face with multiple kisses as his larger body pressed against yours, pinning you down in the soft and thick futon in his room in the palace.

“still so clingy, issei~” you teased but the male only hummed with a small and warm smile on his lips while he continues to litter your face and neck with his kisses. you felt his warm hands touch your skin softly, the feeling of his soft hands on your body always made you feel a little softer.

you reached up and held his face, squishing it so that his lips were all pouty. you laughed at his expression and kissed his lips.

mattsun could feel it again. the butterflies in his stomach. the harsh beating of his heart. he hoped that you wouldn’t hear it. he wants to maintain this calm and apathetic that goes with the flow kind of vibe.

if you knew how much he loved you, he doesn’t know what he would do. these feelings were too much for the young man.

mattsun wants to be with you all the time, he wants to feel you all the time. to have and to hold you.

when you released your hold on his face to run your fingers through his hair and massaging the back of his neck, he started kissing you deeper.

he swiped his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for permission. you hummed and opened your mouth which he eagerly accepted.

his hands then held your thighs, squeezing and fondling the thick meat. matsukawa groaned into the kiss when you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his groin press against your heat. at the small action, he started kissing you more feverishly, his hands touching every skin and starting to remove your kimono.

so needy. desperate even. to touch you. to feel you again. to sink into the delusion that you two were two lovesick couple in your own small little world.

you chuckled, albeit muffled by matsukawa’s lips still working against yours, you let your legs drop from his waist making him whine and break the kiss in confusion.

“i thought we were finished and you’re letting me go back?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely. issei rolled his eyes playfully, though he knows he shouldn’t but you just felt so familiar and you make him sp comfortable in your presence that it scared him a little because he does all sorts of things.

“i am~ but you’re making it a little harder than usual, my empress” he teased back, bumping his nose against yours while his lazy smirk that you loved so much appeared in his lips.

“am i?~” you bit back, replying with your own smirk. mattsun let his eyes drop and go to your lips. mesmerized by it. it was so red. so beautiful. so soft. so kissable.

“well you have to let me go, issei. you hogged me for the whole day, needy~” you poked his cheek which he bit playfully making you chuckle. mattsun let go of your finger and placed a small kiss on it. “well, i am your favorite right? i have the right to take your time~” he teased again

“of course” you whispered, stroking his face. mattsun’s eyes softened at that and leaned closer to your hands.

“i have to go, issei...” his lazy smirk wavered a bit at your words but he straightened it. fortunately for him, you didn’t noticed.

mattsun nodded and sat up, letting you sit up too. you pressed a soft kiss on his lips and fixed your kimono and hair to look presentable as you leave.

you stood up and was about to go out but a large hand held yours. you looked down at him and smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go and going out

he watched you exit his room, his heart clenching painfully. issei let out a shaky breath and held his forehead, chuckling pathetically.

it was painful to see you come and go. it was his fault for feeling like this, not yours... it’s his fault for falling in love with you, the empress, when he’s just a mere concubine in your court.

he cursed and gripped his chest, where his heart was.

he dreaded this and he knows that there would be a time where he’ll see a man by your side. and all he can do is wish that it was him that you chose.

— hanamaki ♡

• he’s a chill concubine

• makki just hangs around here and there, not minding any of the loud concubines when they’re in your palace.

• he also doesn’t do anything to capture your attention but weirdly enough that made you intrigued

• his soft pink hair was always your favorite. you always tell him this that he had the prettiest hair you’ve seen. that it was so unique and whenever all of your concubines are in your court, you can spot him easily.

• makki being the middle child with two sisters mean that there was barely attention given to him in his household.

• so the male wasn’t familiar with compliments and gets a little too shy when he receives it. and especially from you? the empress, the most powerful woman in the country?

• his father brought him up when his mother took his sisters with her.

• he remembers the muffled shout, “i don’t need a good for nothing male!”

• hanamaki doesn’t really care anymore, deciding to isolate himself but his father was ambitious.

• his father pushed him to the empress, telling him to get ahead. that he can raise their status. he was the shining hope for the two of them.

• makki didn’t know what to do when he first came to your court but you were there to ease his nerves though he’d admit he thought you were a guard from the way you dressed. you loved sneaking around, wearing different uniforms. though makki had his suspicions because there was no way a guard could look so beautiful..

• may the gods help him. he was falling in love with you. and fast.

this was bad. really bad. but he can’t stop. not now. not now that he has experienced what it was like to be in your arms. to feel your lips against his.

but the guilt was slowly eating him away. mattsun, his best friend, loved you and takahiro promised to help the former with you but here he was. warming your bed, stroking every skin he could touch.

“what’s wrong, cherry blossom?” you asked, breath heavy from his actions. makki leaned his head against your thigh, looking at you. you’re so beautiful.

your eyes half-lidded, chest heaving heavy pants from your previous orgasm as your red lips curled into a breathless smile.

you run your fingers through his hair, looking at him with confusion. makki let out an amused sigh and shook his head, pushing down any guilt that he felt.

he doesn’t want to remember that. he doesn’t want to be reminded. right now he wants to focus on you. you. nothing else but loving you.

“nothing, my queen” he hummed and leaned closer to your wet cunt again, tongue swiping against the puffy clit making you shiver at the sensitivity. you sighed, eyes rolling back to your skull as makki gently sucked and licked you.

you gripped his hair, hips jutting against his mouth. makki hummed against you, his cock twitching excitedly, as his actions got faster when he saw that you were ready for more. oh, how he lives to please you.

to see you come undone before his eyes was truly heavenly.

but takahiro knew this was a bad idea. he didn’t want to do this to his best friend... he knew that issei loves you... but here he was, enjoying your every touch, every affection, and every moan your pretty lips releases.

if he can redo everything and decline his father’s wishes and honor his friend’s feelings, he knows what he'll do...

he would be here again and again, waiting for you.

840 notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

Show Me Your True Colors

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 14092 (I swear this was supposed to be a short oneshot but it got out of hand. I'm so so sorry.)

Warnings: 28% smut, 72% plot. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Oral (male and female receiving). Fingering and Squirting due to overstimulation. Some dom/sub elements but not full-on. Creampie. Rough handling (e.g. hair-pulling, spanking, hand-binding, some more hair-pulling). I think that's all?!

Inspired by these posts [x] [x] and by this lovely artist. Thanks @danniburgh for humoring me with my thots.

A/N: I came back from my temporary hiatus to post this because I couldn't wait. And now I shall return to my little corner again. Sorry guys these school/administrative issues are taking longer to deal with so I'm for the most part still away. This is not beta'd. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments please and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy. And you can add yourself to the taglist here.

It’s such a different atmosphere, from what he remembers at least. It’s been so long since he stepped foot on a university campus, and he can’t help but smile at the spectrum of personalities all around him. While some students lounge underneath the trees and on the grass, others ran hastily to their courses. Those were probably freshmen.

As he makes his way through the campus, he has to look at his phone numerous times to figure out where exactly he was going. That’s definitely one thing he didn’t miss about being in school, the fact that he was shit in directions and how he almost always got lost during the beginning of each semester.

When he does finally find the art history department, he silences his phone and heads to the first office he can find.

“Good afternoon, my name is Nicola. How can I help you?”

“Hi Nicola, I’m here to see Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you could direct me to her office please?” Marcus smiles as he unbuttons his suit jacket, not realizing that his FBI tag was now visible to the world.

“She’s currently in one of her lectures, you could-” Marcus follows Nicola’s line of sight when she grows quiet and groans when he sees that she noticed his FBI tag.

“Please, she’s not in trouble. I am part of the FBI Art Crime Team, and I’m actually coming to ask if we could get her professional opinion on an artifact. Just need her to consult on something.” He smiles at Nicola and waits for her expression to relax before he continues.

“Do you mind telling me which lecture hall she’s in?”

“Y-yes, she’s in H140. Make a right at the door and it’s the hall all the way at the end.”

“Thank you Nicola, have a good day.” Marcus nods at her before he buttons his jacket again to avoid any suspicious, terrified looks as he makes his way to the lecture hall. He walks quietly, avoiding the students walking past him as they exit the rooms. When he reaches the door, he turns the knob slowly to not make any noise, hoping that he wasn’t being too disruptive once he walks in. As he shuts it behind him and looks around, his eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

There are at least 250, maybe 300 students filling the seats of the room. He awkwardly smiles when some students look to the side and see him standing at the foot of the door. He quickly takes a seat and says nothing as the students return their attention to the large projected screen. Marcus hears what he assumes is your voice through the large speakers but he can’t place your position. As he looks at the projected images, he finally catches you through his peripheral vision as you step off the railing near the exit doors at the front of the room.

“Because of this association with the gods, many amulets used to ward off the evil eye include depictions of mythological figures and deities who are almost, if not always, female. To the Greeks and Romans, the most common fascinations with an evil eye were women in any shape or form. They were thought to have the most powerful and harmful gaze that might kill if eye contact was established. That’s basically me telling you to never look me in the eye or else I will curse the cow of your second cousin twice removed.” Laughter reverberates off the walls at your joke and only grows louder when you whisper, “just kidding...or am I?” Marcus can’t help but smile at your jokes, watching with fascination as you move up and down the stairs of one side of the lecture hall once you continue to speak.

“Now, I know what some of you are thinking...isn’t that a bit sexist? Well, to the ancients, no. And to us, it’s kind of a meh thing. I know that doesn’t sound very feminist of me but it all comes down to the culture and the ancient practices that carried over. Just remember that it wasn’t because they were women, it was because they were thought to be powerful...a glass half-full kinda thing.” Marcus watches you closely as you maintain your focus on the students before you switch the slide and stand in the middle of the stairway with your back towards the projector.

“So, we find goddesses such as Erinnyes or the Furies associated with the evil eye because of their avenging nature. Their heads were covered in serpents and their eyes were always bloodshot and one of the Furies by the name of Megaera was considered in late antiquity as the personification of envy and whose eyes were the most envious and deadly of all the Furies. She was described by poets as baskanon omma pherousa...bearing the evil eye. Naturally, many children in late antiquity constantly wore amulets of stone galactite to protect them from the eyes of Megaera, and sometimes even wore necklaces with her face on it to counteract the evil eye of someone else and have her curse the ones who tried to harm them. Basically, the ancients were playing a game of tag with the evil eye.” You descend the stairs and walk to the other side of the hall, and Marcus feels his chest tighten with how much confidence you exude, not just through your words but with how you carry yourself as well.

“Perhaps the most famous of these dangerous women is Medusa who was one of the Gorgones in Greek mythology. The Gorgones were one of many female beings such as the Harpies, the Erinnyes, the Graiae, and the Keres, who were said to be grim-faced, and who held horrible looks. Briefly, the story tells of how she was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and later became hateful-looking by Athena as punishment for being raped by Poseidon in the middle of the huntress’ temple. Her hair became serpents and she was so furious that anyone who would look at her would turn into stone...at least that is the version you will hear from the “all-knowing” male scholars within this field. But, and I know I’m going on a rant here, if you’re like me, you’re more likely to argue that Athena pretended to hate Medusa. The serpents were no punishment! The goddess looked at the poor woman and gave her a weapon to use against men because unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to avenge her...not only because she didn’t get along with Poseidon but also because he was a god as well. Anyway, back to Medusa’s amazing power which I would love to have so I could use it whenever I’m talking to some professors in this department...don’t quote me on that.” Again, Marcus chuckles at your side commentary and notices how calm and enjoyable the atmosphere of the lecture is. If only he had professors like you when he was in university.

“Even after she was decapitated by Perseus, her powers were very much alive and it is said that Athena placed Medusa’s image on her shield, once Perseus returned it, in order to use it when she hunted. This suggests that depictions of her severed head held apotropaic power and like earlier, one could use a creature who held the power of the evil eye against another being who is said to use the evil eye. Following this principle of similia similibus, it is not surprising that most of the amulets found in Greece and Rome contained illustrations of Medusa’s decapitated head on them. What was once the possessor of the evil eye became a protective symbol against the very same thing.” Just as you are about to continue with the next image, an alarm goes off and Marcus frowns in shock at how inconsiderate it was that phones weren’t silenced. But his surprise only heightens when he sees you running down the steps to your desk and picking up the phone sitting in the middle of the table.

“Ahhhh man, we were just about to get to the cavalier. That’s okay. Remember, the second response is due first thing on Friday. If you can’t turn it in during class, shoot me an email and we can work something out with my TAs. Go forth my clever spawns!” Marcus stands up and glues himself to the wall when he sees students emptying the lecture hall, his eyes on your form at the front of the class. He hopes you don’t leave out of the front exit and begins to make his way to you through the multitude of undergrads leaving. When he reaches your desk, he stands to the side until you finish chatting with one of the students and begins to collect your work.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Please, it’s just Y/N. Who are you and how can I help you today?” You almost do a double take when you look up from your bag and see the man standing in front of you. To say that you were starstruck by the man in front of you would have been the understatement of the century.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike,” he holds out his FBI tag for you and watches as you raise an eyebrow at him before you swing your bag across your shoulders and motion for him to follow you out of the hall.

“I would like to put it on record that I do not, in fact, wish to turn any of my colleagues to stone.” You joke, and Marcus senses that you are perhaps nervous at seeing his tag.

“Believe me, I would like to do that to some of mine as well...but no, not why I’m here.” Marcus clips the tag below his jacket as he walks with you.

“May I ask what I have done that caught the FBI’s attention?” You walk ahead of him, and ask him if it was okay for him to head over to your office with you.

“I’m with the FBI Art Crime Team and I’m here on a request. We would like to consult you on an open investigation and I came here to ask what your availability is.” Marcus follows you up the stairs, barely forcing his eyes to remain on your feet instead of elsewhere.

“Oh, me? That’s...wow. Of all the things I thought I would accomplish in my life, that’s definitely not one of them. May I ask what it is you need my opinion on?” You push open the doorway of the staircase and point at your office across the quiet hall.

“Unfortunately, there is a lot of paperwork you need to fill out before we get to work so I can’t disclose anything about the case until you sign in.” Marcus steps into the office behind you and watches as you set your things down before you move to your desk. He can’t help but feel his muscles loosen at the sight of the bookshelves across your room.

“This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me all year long so yes, hundred percent. I’m available for the rest of the day today as well as tomorrow and Friday after lecture which ends at the same time as today’s.” You beam up at him as you take two books out of your bag and replace them with a folder that was sitting in the middle of your desk. Marcus looks at you quizzically, marveling at how much easier this was going. He genuinely thought he was going to meet with someone who was probably a bit proud and perhaps as much of an asshole as his previous professors but you were so much different than anyone he’s ever met within this field.

“Are you sure? I understand if you need to take a week or two-”

“No please, you’ll be saving me from faculty lunches and two seminars by colleagues that I genuinely cannot fucking stand- oh, sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” You swing your leather bag around your shoulder again and shut the blinds of the windows before you walk to the door.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Marcus chuckles at the excitement rolling off of you and bites his lower lip when he watches you quickly fix your hair.

“I might need to have lunch on the way to your office though if that’s okay?” You take a plastic container out of your bag and smile sheepishly at him as you lock your door.

“Wow...is your bag bigger on the inside or something? And, yeah fine by me.” He pushes his hands into his pockets again and walks next to you, a little corner in his heart gradually filling with hope letting him know that he should be cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

You both chat briefly on your way to headquarters and Marcus apologizes every time he looks over and sees you struggling with your food. By the time you make it to the building, Marcus can tell you are a bit nervous and he assures you once more that this was merely a consultation.

“Wait how did you even find me?” You take your jacket off along with everything in your pockets, laying them down near your bag as they go through the scanner. Marcus passes through with his badge and waits for you on the other side, picking up your things as you put your jacket back on.

“I made some calls and a friend suggested to get in touch with you because of your expertise.”

“Oh now we’re getting somewhere. You have a Greek artifact don’t you?” Marcus halts in his steps and looks over to you as he shuts his eyes in irritation. He should have watched what he said.

“S-sorry I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop until I fill out whatever paperwork you have for me.” You take your things from him and walk quietly as he leads you to the elevators.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not personal, it’s just-”

“Business I know. I know. I’m so used to watching this kind of stuff in movies that I tend to forget it’s all fake and you’re...the real deal.” You hope he doesn’t see the way your eyes trail over his taller form, silently cursing yourself when you meet his eyes and notice how he’s already staring at you with a smile.

“Sorry.” You apologize again and look straight ahead, hands tightening around the leather strap when you realize that he’s still looking at you.

Marcus fists the hands in his pockets to prevent himself from saying anything else that might make you uncomfortable, and he looks at the increasing numbers as they reach his floor. A loud ring signals your arrival and Marcus stretches out his hand so you could walk ahead of him. You wait until he tells you where to go and say nothing when he stops for a second and whispers something to another agent.

When you arrive at his office, you stand to the side and wait for him to tell you what to do.

“What’re you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Marcus calls you over to his desk and smiles, hoping to put you a little at ease. You step towards him and set your stuff on the floor as you sit opposite him on one of the two chairs. He pulls out a couple of files and sets them in front of you in four different piles.

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” You chuckle nervously as you take out a pen from your bag.

“I know, I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. These are the building rules and your signature is basically you telling us you’ll abide by all of them.”

“I don’t know any of them.” You respond immediately, and rub harshly at the pen between your fingers.

“I’ll be with you at all times so you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile throws you off guard and you nod before you sign the highlighted areas.

“And these are you swearing that you will tell no one of whatever you see, hear, do, etc. within the building.” You nod and sign through the stapled paperwork before sliding them his way.

“We’re almost done. These two are like the second pile but they have to do with this case specifically. And they extend to outside the premises, meaning that if I or another agent on the case tells you anything that has to do with your work here today while we’re grabbing coffee from across the street, you can’t say it to a living soul.” Marcus points at the four highlighted boxes and tells you to sign the date next to them as well.

“So I can say it to my dead cousin?” You ask as you sign the two papers and hand them to him, unable to hold your laughter when he shakes his head as he pushes the last pile towards you.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Can’t help it.”

“And finally, these are you swearing that whatever you tell us today, be it an opinion, a fact, or anything else, is the absolute truth. Basically, you’re not fucking with us.” You raise an eyebrow at his choice in words and he shrugs his shoulders as he motions for the empty spaces again. When you’re done, Marcus collects all the files and places them in a folder before he unlocks his desk and pushes them inside.

“I don’t ever want to see my signature again.” You whisper as he leads you out of the office towards a conference room. He holds the door for you and nods ahead, waiting for you to step in before he shuts the door behind him and turns around. You try to ignore the hand pushing on your lower back as you walk in and spot three gentlemen and one woman standing towards the end of the long table.

“Wow, that was quick.” The female agent is first to speak and you say nothing as Marcus introduces you to them.

“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course. This is very exciting for me so I’m happy to help in any way.” You shake her hand and stand to the side as Marcus motions for you to sit down.

“This is Lydia, Ethan, Henry, and Noah.” Marcus points to each member of his team as he pulls out a chair next to you and sits down.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nod towards them and look at the folder that Lydia hands to you. Marcus says something as you flip open the folder but you can’t respond, eyes almost falling out of their sockets as you take in the large image on the page. You look up at Marcus and everyone else before you return your attention to the picture.

“You recognize what this is then?” Ethan breaks the silence and watches as you move through the pages quickly.

“Umm, that seems like an oversimplification but yes.” You continue to study the images in front of you for another few minutes before you set them down and look up at Marcus.

“Some explanation would really help me out right now.” You tap softly on the papers, and your mind conjures up the wildest possible stories behind the images currently displayed in front of you.

“Oh right yes. We received a tip from the Smithsonian’s acquisitions department about a man trying to sell them this artifact for three million dollars,” Marcus notices your eyes widen but he continues, “but they’re not sure if it’s stolen or not. And he refuses to cooperate.”

“Which is where you come in. Have you seen anything like this before and if so, where?” Lydia stares at you as you return your attention to the pictures again.

“And the Smithsonian can’t confirm this?”

“Far from it. Marcus here is just afraid they’ll eventually get greedy and do anything to get their hands on it.” You look next to you and watch a faint blush take over the agent’s handsome features.

“I mean I don’t blame you. There are a bunch of real assholes in this field.” You laugh when he gives Lydia a ‘told you’ look.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you if I don’t see the actual pendant.” You shut the folder and push it away from you.

“That might be a problem.” Henry takes his glasses off and proceeds to clean them as he looks at his co-workers.

“Why? Do you not have it anymore?” Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of the FBI losing such an object.

“Oh no we have it. Our guy is afraid we’ll switch it out with a fake so he refuses to hand it to us unless he’s in the same room.”

“That’s funny. Is there a rule that says I can’t look at it while this man is in the room?” You ask Marcus and he can’t help but notice how giddy you’re being all of a sudden. Your excitement is almost palpable and he wills himself to focus on the question and not how you bite your lower lip as you wait for him.

“I mean…”

“You’re all going to be in the room aren’t you?” You cut him off before he says anything and when they all nod, you turn to Marcus once more and wait for his response.

“I guess it’s fine.” Marcus reluctantly answers before he asks Ethan and Noah to bring the man from the interrogation room he’s been in for the past couple of hours. Lydia and Henry let you in on more details and Marcus watches as you furrow your eyebrows in focus, occasionally cutting them off to ask them a question.

Fifteen minutes later and a knock on the door breaks you out of your haze. You look up just as Ethan and Noah walk in with a man in front of them. You say nothing as they bring him to your side of the room and set him down across from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!” Your ears perk at his comment but you say nothing as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you.

“May I see it?” You ask before anyone else says anything and the man continues to stare at you before he ignores your question.

“Please, I’m just here to confirm your story. I know for a fact there isn’t a museum out there that has this.” You notice the hardened expression on Henry’s face but he says nothing. A few long moments pass by and the man shifts to take something out of the inside his jacket. You inhale deeply and watch as he unwraps the cloth before he places the small pendant on the table in front of you.

“May I?” You ask again and if Marcus didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just trying to put the man at ease. If you were nervous around five FBI agents and you did nothing wrong, then his little thief must have been scared shitless.

When the man nods, you bring out a pair of gloves from your handbag and put them on, forcing yourself to remain calm as you pick up the pendant.

“What a beautiful work of art you are baby. Red jasper, my favorite!” Your excited words break the silence and you look up at the man in front of you with a smile, feeling your hands sweat when he slowly returns the expression.

Got you.

“Greek is marvelous...crystal clear, grammatically correct, unique placement.” It’s as silent as a cemetery and Marcus watches you closely as you narrow your eyes and adjust the stone under the light. If he wasn’t dealing with a criminal and a potentially stolen artifact, he would have told you how beautiful you looked when you were deep in the middle of a task.

“Hmm, what is this 6th century-ish spell? Oh my bad, no no no, I tend to mix them up sometimes. It’s definitely a 7th century formula.” You make an awkward face and watch as Lydia shakes her head at your little mix up.

“Now, let’s see what you got on the other side sweetheart.” You carefully turn the amulet around in the palm of your hand and barely hold back from gasping dramatically.

“My god...what a goddamn sight...oh oops sorry, that was probably blasphemous. A perfectly etched crucifixion...cross with 4 sides, with a plaque at the top...and of course, can’t forget the clothed Christ. The detail on this is truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen, down to the ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare’ around the figure. Where did you say you found it again?” You casually ask as you continue to inspect the stone, almost laughing when the man responds immediately to your question.

“Mount Athos.” Marcus turns to his team in shock. You’d managed to get the information out of him so easily while they spent an entire day trying to get him to say anything. It was a little funny how at ease the man seemed now, leaning forward towards you as you flipped the stone around.

“Ohh the hub of Eastern monasteries. Boy is this the most valuable artifact I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at then.” You set it down on the cloth and wrap it up before taking your gloves off and leaning back on the chair.

“See, told you its one of a kind. No one’s ever found anything like it before.” The man beams at you before he takes the object and puts it back in his jacket.

“Oh yeah it’s one of a kind alright...because it’s the most fake amulet I’ve ever had the misfortune of examining. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in my life. And here I thought another one of these was out there. Did you even bother to do any research on this?” You frown at him and cross your arms in irritation, completely missing Marcus’ reaction and how he turns to Lydia to confirm that yes, you just said that it was a fake artifact.

“W-what?”

“I’d love to know where you got the red jasper because you could have fooled me with that. Let’s break this down shall we? The Greek is perfect, too perfect if I’m being honest. You never have grammatically correct syntax etched on a magical amulet, let alone proper diction. Oh and you should have probably used Classical Greek instead of modern Greek, like were you even trying? Really bad move to use a 7th century formula with a non-altered 6th century spell. The formula didn’t even exist yet!” You tilt your head to the side and watch as the man in front of you begins to fidget. His smile is replaced with a shocked expression and you watch as it slowly becomes angry.

Marcus was speechless. He never saw this coming and was looking at you with a mixture of awe and surprise at the turn of events. He could only stare at you as he took in your energy, the same confidence and intelligence he saw earlier in the day when he walked into your lecture.

“As for the back, you never get 4-sided crosses with these, only three, and the head of Christ makes up the fourth which you don’t actually see because of his head. No plaque, too detailed and non-existent in protection spells. Christ is always nude on magical amulets by the way...yes it’s weird, but it’s a fucking amulet and he was just some extra deity. And finally, never, ever, write out ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare.’ You write the acronym IXOYE.” You flip open the folder that was in front of you and grab a sharpie from Marcus’ file, circling the first letter of each Greek word and holding it up as if he was one of your students and you were trying to lecture him.

“Don’t even get me started on your provenance. Mount Athos? I mean for fuck’s sake, Constanza would have been a better option. At least we actually found amulets out there. How much was he asking for this?” You turn to Marcus and completely miss the starstruck eyes he’s giving you. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he finally realizes that you asked him a question.

“Uhhh 3 mil.”

“Oh boy...yeah, this is worth jack shit. Wouldn’t even do it’s intended job if you actually wore it as a protection pendant.” You watch as the man’s expression changes from anger to outrage and you barely have any time to push away your chair and hide behind Marcus before the man tries to jump on top of the table towards you. It takes Ethan and Noah approximately five seconds to tackle him down before they take him out of the room. You watch as they reach for the amulet in his pocket and give it to Henry just as they push him out.

You’re still coming down from the adrenaline rush when Marcus turns around and asks you if you are alright. As soon as you see the gun in his hands, your hold on his jacket tightens and you gulp nervously when you meet his eyes. He apologizes quickly once he sees where you’re looking and quickly puts the gun back in its holster.

“You okay?” Marcus holds your wrist and rubs his thumb over your pulse point until you begin to relax. You fix your jacket and take a deep breath before you meet his eyes, almost gasping when you see how dark and oddly calming they are.

“Didn’t think a consultation would get this exciting but uhh, yeah I’m good. I think.” You try to laugh it off but looking at the object in Henry’s hand makes you realize that the last five minutes did really happen and you actually managed to piss off someone to the point where he tried to attack you.

“And we were worried it was stolen…” Lydia shakes her head when she takes the amulet and swirls it around in her hand.

“I might be wrong but I think you should try to find out who made it, especially because of the red jasper. This came real close to a fake. And you should also try to date it as well...there might be more of these out there.” You smile when Lydia agrees and collects the folders on the table, thanking you on her way out.

“My pleasure...apart from that last bit.” You laugh it off and watch as she exits the conference room with Henry.

“So…” You turn to Marcus and whisper a quick thank you when he hands you your bag.

“So, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to consult on this case. I- I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened. It’s not always like this, I promise. The exciting stuff usually happens when we find guys like him in abandoned warehouses.” Marcus continues to word vomit as he leads you back to his office.

“It’s okay really. My advisor always warned me about this.”

“About working with the FBI?”

“No no, about rambling so much that I piss off someone to the point where they try to kill me.” You’re taken aback by Marcus’ laugh and can’t help but giggle along with him as he leans back in his chair and continues to laugh.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t work with us again?” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach and you place your hand on your chest dramatically as you bat your eyes at him.

“Why Agent Pike, are you trying to recruit me to the FBI?” You ask sarcastically and watch as he shrugs his shoulders before shutting off his computer and standing up.

“Just a consult here and there, should we meet another Greco-Roman artifact? Or...a fake one I guess.” You swallow the lump in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you and hope that you’re not misreading any signs.

“Can I take you out to dinner? As a thank you and an apology for putting your life in danger?” Marcus is reluctant to ask but he takes the leap of faith and hopes that you wouldn’t reject him.

“I- actually...in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll do well in public after that whole thing.” You gesture towards the outside offices, and Marcus nods in disappointment and contemplates on whether he should ask you to dinner some other time. You never give him a chance to follow-up though.

“How about take-out at my place?” You stand up and smile when you see his eyes beam with excitement as he fixes his tie and motions towards the door.

“Lead the way doctor.” You flush under the title and walk ahead so he doesn’t notice the obvious effect he’s having on you. You glance at Marcus every now and then as you make your way out of the building and towards his car.

You chat about random things as he drives through the busy streets, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he says something scandalous about your favorite Impressionist artwork, not because of the comment but because of the way he winks at you as he slides his hand to your thighs and nudges them to let you know he was just joking. You hope that Marcus asks for your number by the end of the night, maybe even invite you to dinner again, because if you’re being honest, it’s been a while since you met a decent guy and he’s been checking all of your boxes all day long.

Kind. Intelligent. Hard-working. Funny. And of course, attractive. There was something about the way he smiles and you kept on replaying the moment he hid you behind him and continued to ask if you were alright.

“What do you mean you don’t like Bal du moulin de la Galette? It’s one of the most magnificent paintings out there. Best of Renoir’s if you ask me.” You unlock the door and switch on the lights, throwing your coat and bag on the wall before telling Marcus to make himself at him. He takes his jacket off and hangs it as well, turning around to continue his argument.

“Listen, I’m just not a crowd kind of guy. I’m more of a Paris Street, Rainy Day man okay so-”

“Why am I not surprised by that?” You laugh as you bring him a cup of water, hoping you were being subtle as you continued to check out the gun resting in his holster. Shaking your head, you take your phone out again and tell him that it’ll take you a few minutes to order pizza since neither of you can make up your mind.

Marcus looks around when you walk away to place the order, his eyes taking in the three bookshelves behind your couch. It’s almost as if the office space wasn’t enough so you had to make more room for all of your textbooks and novels. Maybe it was the other way around…

He takes a sip of water and glances to the side, instantly choking on the liquid when his eyes zero in on the three watercolor paintings hanging above your television. Marcus blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. He approaches the wall and looks between the three artworks, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices new details every time he focuses on a different corner of each painting, and his pants suddenly feel uncomfortable when he shifts closer.

“Pizza will be here in thirty-ish minutes and-” You almost drop the phone when Marcus jumps back and almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” When you walk closer and see the blush creeping down his neck, you can’t help but giggle and glance at your paintings, almost as if you were taunting him into commenting on your choice in decoration.

“These are...interesting.” Marcus avoids looking at them when you stand next to him, merely pointing to the side as he looks at you.

“Oh no...here we go. I know what that means. You don’t like them?” You tilt your head to the side and hold back from smiling when he takes a long sip of water before he sets down the glass.

“N-no no, that’s not...I didn’t mean- I just...it’s a bold choice.” His stutter makes you laugh even harder and you apologize when his blush deepens. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s always really funny when people come over because I get all kinds of reactions but you’re definitely the first guy that doesn’t call me a slut because I have pornographic paintings hanging in my living room.”

“Why not? The Dutch lords and the Italian merchants did it, why can’t you?” Marcus is almost offended by the remark and he forgets all about the awkwardness of the paintings when he sees you nod aggressively in agreement.

“Exactly!? Why is a guy allowed to hang an Odalisque in his home but I can’t hang some BDSM scenes?” You take the glass from the table and ask him if he wants more. Marcus shakes his head and quickly attempts to fix himself through his pants before you return.

“So you like them then?” You lounge on one chair and wait for Marcus to sit on the couch before you ask him.

“It’s a different aesthetic I think, and it somehow goes well with your bookshelves. Something about textbooks and nude paintings depicting sex just goes together...can’t explain how. And kudos to the artist too! The brushstrokes, the layering, the complementary colors...the scenes and positions are so natural. They’re perfect combinations. Did you pick them or did you commission them?”

“Oh I commissioned two of them. The third was just too good to not order. I’ll ask you this then, which ones do you think I commissioned?” Marcus glances to the canvases again and grows quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching from one painting to another before he meets your gaze.

“I think you commissioned the two on the left.”

“Why?” You try to hide how impressed you are by how he correctly figured you out, almost cringing when the question leaves your mouth before you could stop yourself. As much as you enjoy where this conversation was going, you really hope this wouldn’t lead to some misogynistic response on his part. Just as Marcus is about to respond, the doorbell rings and you tell him you’ll be right back.

Marcus thanks the heavens that the pizza arrives because he isn’t sure how he could respond to that question without accidentally giving his train of thoughts away. When you come back with plates and napkins, Marcus thanks you and proceeds to separate the pizza slices.

“It was the closest I could get to owning something that resembled the area I study.” You say through chewing and Marcus furrows his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate on your comment.

“Nudity I mean. I can’t afford sculptures so I settled with these.”

“They are beautiful. And the positions are-” Marcus stops abruptly when he realizes that his inner monologue just rolled off of his tongue.

“Go on, what were you going to say?”

“I- uh, I just think that the positions are intimate. And they become more intimate the longer you look at them.” He chews faster when you nod and take another slice of pizza.

“You have a favorite?” You ask and pretend you aren’t paying attention to every single word he says. You get the sense that he has a lot to say about the paintings but is choosing to hold back so you don’t get the wrong idea about why he is having dinner with you in your apartment after only knowing you for a few hours.

“Definitely the middle one.” His answer surprises you, especially because the one on the right has handcuffs and you genuinely thought he’d be into that because of his line of work.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh...I- this might sound weird but I think the scene is intense and- and close? Private? I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to say but the fact that she’s completely nude except for the panties around her thighs while he’s fully clothed and is focusing on her pleasure is- it’s intimate. And the hand on her back is a mixture of dominance and care, like he’s letting her know that she has his undivided attention but she has to behave for him.” You’re not sure when exactly you stopped eating and you clear your throat when you realize that Marcus was looking at you to gauge your reaction.

“Y-yeah that...ahuh.” Something about the way he says the word ‘behave’ twists your insides and you immediately stand up and head to the kitchen, whispering something about needing to wash down the food with something. Marcus eats quietly and hopes he hasn’t just made things even more awkward. When you come back and hand him a glass of red wine, Marcus relaxes and continues to eat.

“Have you ever drawn something like this?” You shake your head as you take a sip of the wine, laying against the back of the couch and crossing your legs.

“I wish. Human anatomy is so fascinating I think. I sometimes get this adrenaline rush when I look at the far right one and I tell myself that I’ll sketch all the risque and open positions I can think of but then I remember how long it would take me to finish one piece and I- I don’t have time for that sadly.”

“You can always start out with simpler ones? Maybe solo pieces, and move up from there.” Marcus mirrors you and sits back with the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but I just love this kind of genre so much. It needs to be passionate, and sexy and out there you know.” Marcus smiles at the energetic response, feeling much more relaxed now that he’s had a cup of wine and found chatting about your choice in decoration less awkward.

“I get you. It’s why that lifestyle is interesting to so many people. The whole dynamic, whether we’re talking about the figures in the scene or actual partners, is based on that trust. You- you have to create that sense of trust and comfort for the scene to be enjoyable...pleasurable. It’s not as easy as some think it to be. As a Dom, you have to be aware of your partner at all times and the effect you have on them. And the same goes for a Sub too. You need to ensure that your Dom knows how much trust you put in them and the level of dedication that’s going into the scene. Both parties are depending on each other and it’s- it’s amazing.” Marcus smiles when he notices the intensity swimming in your eyes and he gives you a few seconds to collect your bearings before he asks his next question.

“Would you draw something as intimate as that?” He breaks the silence and watches your train of thought come and go.

“Would you?” You throw the question right back at him, holding in a breath when you see him lean forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I would...but only if I have the right model.” Marcus doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but he can’t find it in himself to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You’re silent for a few moments, long enough for Marcus to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossed the line.

But then you’re smiling at him mischievously, chugging down the rest of the wine before standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“I have an easel and some 16x20 papers lying around...I hope you don’t mind working with chalk.” You throw back at him before you walk down the hallway and Marcus has to give himself a quick pep talk before he follows you. He slowly makes his way into your bedroom and stands at the doorstep until you allow him to come in.

“I think the lighting is best in this corner but you’ll be the one working so sit wherever you prefer.” You bring over a chair and set it in front of the easel before you grab the large box of supplies and pull out all the chalk sticks that you have. Marcus nods in silence as he pushes the easel closer to your bed and begins to choose which of the chalk sticks he wants. There is a variety of shapes and sizes, and he’s not sure if he should start out bold or if he should ease himself into this. It’s been a while since he’s drawn a model and he really doesn’t want to screw up, especially because it is you.

Marcus is so busy preparing his workstation that he doesn’t notice you stripping off your clothes. You keep your eyes on him and find the little scrunch he does with his eyebrows when he focuses on something endearing. Taking a deep breath, you take off your bra and panties before laying on the bed and getting in a comfortable position. Your movements are minimal, and you stretch out your legs in wait for him. You fight the part of you that’s yelling at you to cover yourself and keep your focus on him to gauge his reaction.

“Pose however you want and we can work on the postures once we-” The words die in his throat as soon as he looks up from the easel and sees your state of dress, or lack thereof. The thick chalk stick he’s holding between his fingers snaps in half and breaks the blanket of silence that fell on the room. He visibly gulps and doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes trail down your form slowly before they return to look into your dilated ones. Marcus knows for a fact that the image of your heaving chest and hardened nipples will forever be etched in his mind.

“I- uhh, are you...c-comfortable?” He hates how much he’s stuttering and you smile at him when you notice how he is focusing on the wall behind you and not you.

You look around for a few moments, grabbing a couple of pillows and placing them behind your back before you stretch out one leg and bend the other one to your chest. Marcus almost chokes on his breath when he sees how open you are being with him but he says nothing and turns his attention to the blank piece of paper underneath his hand.

“I’m ready.” Your voice brings him out of his stupor and he nods briefly as he tries to reason with himself. He cannot draw you unless he looks at you. But he is well aware of the hardening predicament he’s currently suffering from and he’s sure you probably noticed by now the effect you were having on him.

“I won’t tell you how to do your job Agent, but artists usually have to look at the models they’re drawing to...you know, draw them.” Marcus rolls his eyes at the teasing remark, briefly glancing at you with a raised eyebrow before he begins to softly outline the shape of your shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants and he tries his hardest to not squirm too much in his seat. But every time his eyes move towards your nude form laying not five feet away from him, he silently curses himself and pretends he’s fine and that he isn’t imagining pushing you down and shoving his tongue deep into your wet cunt.

“Are you usually this quiet when you’re sketching, Agent Pike?” Something about the way you’re addressing him makes him clench his jaw tightly and he unintentionally whispers a little louder than he intends in response.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your giggles let him know that you heard his remark and he is sure his face is growing a deeper shade of red but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores your obvious amusement. Marcus swallows the lump in his throat as he shifts his focus below your neck, parting his lips when he notices the tilt of your head from his peripheral vision as he ceases all movement and continues to stare at your chest.

“Oh sorry, is my arm in the way,” you lower your arms and move them behind you to support your weight, never breaking eye contact with him as you rock your bent leg back and forth and give him a full view of your most intimate parts.

Marcus is almost shaking in his seat at the sight of your breasts, unaware that he’s harshly rubbing the chalk stick with his thumb the more your leg sways to the side and reveals the outer folds of your pussy.

“P-perfect, thank you.” He whispers and returns to the sheet in front of him, biting into his lower lip as he rolls the chalk across and sketches the curves of your breasts. For a moment, he forgets what he is doing and narrows his eyes at the shapes in front of him before he smudges the black material across to shade in the skin. He looks back and forth for a couple of minutes until he’s happy with the shading of your body.

You marvel at how he’s managing to keep it together for this long when all you can think about is begging for him to fuck you into the mattress. You thought it would be easy for him to break but ever the gentleman, he takes the task seriously and tries his hardest to not dwell on your skin for longer than necessary.

A thought comes through your mind and you smile to yourself as you shift your bent leg to the side and move the other one until it falls from the side of the bed. You stare at him and hope this is what finally does the trick. And you don’t have to wait for too long because the next time Marcus looks at you, he takes a double-take and doesn’t bother to hide how he’s only focusing on the skin between your thighs.

“I thought it would be easier for you, you know. Easier access and everything.” You’re not sure what you’re going on about but you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of control in his body to not pounce on you. You hold your breath when Marcus stands up and meets your eyes, and you think this is it. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But then he’s freeing the paper from the easel and moving towards you, his expression never once giving his plan away. You gulp when he kneels at the foot of your bed and sets the paper between your thighs.

“You’re right, easier access,” Marcus says as he brings the chalk down on the paper and sketches your thighs, not bothering for propriety as his eyes zero in on your slit. You know you’re wet and you can feel slick easing down your folds but you don’t move a muscle, watching him as he expertly outlines your skin before he rubs the chalk with his thumb to shade the area again.

“It’s not quite how I want it…” His remark makes you shiver and you’re about to beg him to forgo the sketch when he leans forward and nudges your legs apart, perhaps a little carelessly, before he collects your arousal with his middle finger and swipes it across your folds. You’re shocked by the turn of events and barely hold back from moaning as he dips the clean finger into your pussy and rubs your walls for a few more seconds, his soft brown eyes turning dangerous as pushes his finger a little deeper and bites his lower lip when he feels you clenching around him. Marcus turns his attention back to you, his jaw tensing when he sees sheer bliss etched on your expression. Your little gasps are music to his ears and just as he feels your hips moving against him, he pulls his hand away.

You watch him like a hawk as he inspects his finger, gasping when he smudges at the chalk on the sketch to create darker shades around your center.

“Hmm, that’s more like it.” Marcus turns to you and smirks when he sees your parted lips turn into a frown.

“Do you not like it?” He feigns ignorance and raises an eyebrow when your frown deepens as you move back into your pillows. You lean back but continue to hold his gaze as you part your thighs and lazily stroke your cunt. Marcus slowly puts down the paper and chalk onto the floor and stands up just as you begin to pinch your nipples.

“Please…” Your whispered plea shoots straight to his cock and he laughs when it turns into a whine once he makes his way to the bathroom in your room. He says nothing as he quickly washes his hands and dries them before moving back and standing next to your bed.

You don’t stop touching yourself, hoping the needy sight of you is all the push he needs to take what he wants.

“What’s your safeword doctor?” Marcus keeps his hands in his pockets as he trails his eyes down your shivering body. He’s itching to touch you but he remains still and waits for confirmation that you do, in fact, want this as much as him. A part of him knows that the two of you should probably slow down and perhaps discuss whatever this is before you go any further. But it feels right being here with you. And he doesn’t want to give it up just yet.

“J-Jasper.” Your voice breaks when you see the hunger swimming in his eyes and you shift to the center of your bed as Marcus kicks off his shoes before taking off his socks.

“Hmm.” Marcus hums as he takes off the holster from his belt and quietly places the gun on your nightstand. When he turns back and sees you watching the gun and increasing your movements, he groans down at you before walking around the bed.

“Maybe another time baby...when you and I are a little more acquainted with each other.” You flush at the implications behind his words and nod at him. You watch as he begins to roll up his sleeves and your anticipation grows with each inch of skin he reveals.

“You look so pretty sweetheart, all needy and desperate for my touch. Do you want to cum baby?” Marcus asks teasingly and you nod frantically as you begin to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Nuh uh, use your words. I’ll let it go this time but from now on, you use your words if you want something from me.” His tone is less gentle and your inner walls spasm at the thought of hearing that same commanding voice telling you to get on your knees for him.

“S-sorry yes...yes please. I- I want to cum, please.” Marcus smiles in amusement as he steps closer to the bed until his knees touch the mattress.

“Good girl. Now, if you really want to cum, then you better come here and suck me off. Be a good girl for me and show me what that sweet fucking mouth of yours can do.” His chest puffs out proudly when he sees how quickly you’re moving to please him. You lay on your stomach and palm him through his pants, moaning along with him when you find him hard and ready for you.

“May I undress you?”

“Go on sweetheart, take what you want.” Marcus caresses your cheek as you excitedly unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn’t dare look away as you shove his pants down his thighs before leaning forward and nuzzling your nose into the bulge of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck baby, are you trying to kill me?” You giggle and shake your head in response, purposely rubbing his length with your nose just before you feel his fingers combing through your hair and tugging on it.

“Remember sweetheart...bad girls don’t get to cum. Stop your teasing before I shove my cock down your throat.” Marcus pulls on your hair harshly and groans when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Is that a promise Agent Pike?” You know you’re pushing his buttons and don’t hold back from gasping his name as he rolls you onto your back and aggressively pushes his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock. He’s not really a vain man but seeing you lick your lips and inch closer to him as you stare at his hard dick makes him just a little cocky.

“Go on baby, open your mouth. Part those pretty fucking lips for me.” Marcus pats your lips softly and shivers when you respond to him right before you shut your eyes and wait for him to give you his cock.

“Yes sir.”

His knees buckle for a second the moment you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it. Marcus is torn between throwing his head back to enjoy the softness of your mouth and keeping his eyes on you as you suck on his cock. He leans forward and bites his cheek when you relax your throat and take more of his cock down your throat.

“P-part your legs for me baby please. Let me- oh fuck, your mouth is made of magic sweetheart. Let me- let me see how wet that pretty cunt is.” Marcus is already breathing heavily and he furrows his eyebrows in focus, not wanting to end this night early. You swallow around him a few times and hum when you feel his hand cupping your breasts while the other rests around your throat.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you try to take him down as deep as possible just as you part your thighs and begin to play with your pussy. Marcus groans and swears above you as you work him expertly and he can’t hold back from pushing the palm of his hand a little harder on your throat. He can feel his cock passing across your pharynx and moans your name over and over again when he looks down and sees drool rolling down your cheeks.

“Ahh fuck oh god, s-sweetheart you’re a fucking dream. W-where have you been all my life?” Marcus continues to kneed at your tits, but when he gets a little irritated when he sees your fingers rubbing your clit. Without warning, he leans forward as far as he can and slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own and biting his cheek when he finds you soaking.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” You hum around him and twitch in surprise when you feel two of his thick fingers pushing past your wet folds and into your cunt. You’re already so close to coming from his teasing and you whimper when he nudges your thighs apart aggressively.

“Keep those legs open for me baby. Shit, the smell of you is fucking intoxicating. Fuck, that it’s, get on your hands and knees for me.” Marcus moves away and silences you with one look when you start to whine and reach for his cock.

“Unless you want to call it a night, you’ll get on your fucking hands and knees for me. Shit baby I’ve wanted to shove my tongue in that pussy as soon as you stripped for me.” He never breaks eye contact as he kicks away his pants and briefs before he makes quick work of his shirt. You quickly turn around and bite into your wrist as you get on all fours and try to look at him through your elbow. You reach down and ease two fingers into your cunt as you take in his broad shoulders and lean form. You swear his muscles flex the longer you stare at him and when you finally look at him, you’re a little embarrassed at being caught openly ogling him.

“Look at you, like a bitch in heat.” Regret rolls off of him as soon as he registers what he just said. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but then you’re arching your back and shifting closer to him, giving him a show as you curve your knuckles to try and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh aren’t you the prettiest sweetheart in the world.” You moan his name when he caresses your back and kneels behind you, laying soft kisses across your back as he palms and lightly smacks your ass. Marcus removes your hand away slowly but not before licking your fingers and humming around them as the taste of you fills his mouth.

“Marcus please...I- I need you inside me.”

“What do you need from me? You want my tongue and fingers? Or do you think this cunt is ready to take my cock?” Marcus nips at your skin and pushes a hand on your lower back when you try and move away from him.

“W-whatever you want...just- need to feel you inside me. I don’t care, please. Oh fuck...please.” You squeal when Marcus spreads your cheeks apart and spits on your slit right before licking across your cunt. You fist your hands into the sheets and bite down on your wrist when you feel his nose nudge at your entrance as his tongue flicks your engorged clit.

“Good answer sweetheart,” you hear him whisper just as he kisses across your folds and dips his tongue into your core. You’re already shaking with need and rock back against him, hoping he’d end your agony and give you his fingers as well. Marcus is losing his mind and he tries his hardest to focus on pleasuring you. But it’s so hard to hold back when you’re whimpering at his touch and shoving your pussy in his face to get more friction.

“Stop moving,” Marcus growls against you, and you cry out his name when his palms land on your ass cheeks three consecutive times before he rubs the reddening skin.

“Oh god, your tongue feels so good Marcus. D-don’t stop, please. I want to cum, l-let me cum. You’re so fucking- ahh s-shit.” You think you feel him smile against you as he pushes two fingers into your pussy but you can’t be sure because you suddenly feel full. Fuck, and it’s only his fingers.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He slowly parts you with his fingers and groans when he feels you squeezing his fingers. When you try to move against him again, Marcus slithers his hand across your back and grabs your neck, pushing your face into the bed as he leans over to whisper in your ears.

“You’re being such a bad girl tonight. I won’t give you another warning baby. Move again and I won’t fuck you.” You shiver when you hear his hoarse voice on your ears, grasping the pillows as hard as you can when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible and curls his knuckles.

“N-no please...I’m s-sorry- ahh gahd I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Marcus is pleased with the effect he’s clearly having on you and almost gives in. But he wants you to cum before he takes you. From the looks of it, you aren’t looking for anything gentle, and with how hard he is, has been for the entire day, he doesn’t have the self-control to be anything but rough.

“Good girl...sweet fucking girl.” You force yourself to remain immobile as you feel him reaching deeper and applying more pressure on your spongy walls. The hand on your neck moves to your back and massages your heated skin. It takes you a while to realize that he’s reenacting the paintings in your living room and the thought shakes you to your core. Before you can even warn him, you feel a familiar pressure growing in the depths of your stomach and your heart hammers in your chest as you lose yourself to the sudden swelling sensation. You gasp his name over and over again as you cum around his fingers, and Marcus fists his hand in your hair when he feels you shuddering beneath him.

He’s shocked at how quickly you unravel at his ministrations and he doesn’t look away as he brushes his thumb against your clit and watches your body fight to not move away from him.

“M-Marcus wait- I...too much.” You can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought, and you bite into the sheets when you feel his scruff scratch your skin deliciously as he licks off your juices.

“Use your safeword sweetheart and I’ll stop. But you came without asking so now I have to punish you...fuck, you taste as good as you smell baby, shit, maybe even better.” Marcus slows down but continues to move his digits across your tightening walls and when you say nothing, he sits up and twists his hand, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he begins to fuck you with his fingers.

“Oh oh f-fuck I- Marcus M-Marcus oh god...yes please fuck ahh I- I’m…” You try to warn him but he doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your abused cunt until he feels you tightening around him again.

“Beg!”

“Can I- oh god, can I cum? Please fuck, I- I can’t s-stah ahh fuck.” You reach around and dig your nails into the hand fisting in your hair. You try to warn him again of what’s about to happen but he doesn’t give you a chance, picking up the pace just as he curves his digits and rubs at your sensitive spot.

“Drench me baby.” It’s all you need to fall over the edge again and your vision whites out as you convulse around him. Marcus smiles proudly when you listen to his command but his expression changes to one of awe when he feels you gush around his hand and wet his arm and thighs. He doesn’t stop once, completely captivated by the sight of your juices flowing around him so easily. When you try to move up the bed, Marcus lets go of your neck and pushes down on your lower back to keep you still. The damp spot beneath you is growing and something primal takes over Marcus. He wants nothing more than to soak the entire bed.

But he snaps out of his haze when you cry out his name and beg him to slow down. He looks at you as he gradually comes to a halt but keeps his fingers in your pussy. Marcus massages your muscles as he eases his wet fingers out of you and carefully maneuvers you until you’re laying on your back. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness and almost jump away when you feel his tongue passing across the skin of your thighs. When you finally have enough mind to look at him, you’re taken aback by the sheer bliss written on his face as he closes his eyes and cleans you up. Your eyes widen in horror and embarrassment when you look at his glistening skin and you call for him shyly to grab his attention.

“I-I’m so sorry...I- I’ve never-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and the fact that I’m the first to make you squirt...best feedback I’ve ever gotten.” Marcus cuts you off as he licks at his forearm and fingers before he sits up behind you. You find his gaze much more intense than before and you hide behind your arm to avoid it.

“Marcus, stop.” He laughs at your sudden shyness and leans over to pull your arms away from your face.

“Please baby, don’t hide from me. Please.” You feel exposed underneath him and it’s a stupid thought considering what the two of you have been doing so far. But something about the way he’s staring at you with those deep, brown, soulful eyes makes you want to hide under the sheets. But instead, you take his hand and pull him close until he’s flush against you.

“K-kiss me.” You watch as his expression intensifies just as he leans forward and molds his lips with yours. You expected him to be rough but the way he parts his lips and allows you access to his mouth leaves you breathless. His scruff and mustache heighten the sensation and you instantly shove your tongue in his mouth when he melts against you. You hum when you finally taste yourself on his tongue and Marcus growls as the kiss grows more desperate. Just as you run out of breath, Marcus pulls away and holds back from smiling when you chase after him.

“Sweetheart, c-can I have you?” You’re amazed by how he’s still asking you if you want to do this even after the events of the past hour or so.

“Yes, please.” You respond as you push him off to resume your previous position again. Marcus feels his cock harden at the sight of you on your knees for him. But the moment shatters into a million pieces when he looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms.

“Fuck.” He hisses and begins to move away when he feels your hands reach for his thighs to stop him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I didn’t think this would...I don’t have any condoms baby.” You stare at him for a few seconds before you break the silence and hope he doesn’t think any less of you. “I was tested after the last time and I’m clear. A-are you?” Marcus pins you with his eyes as he nods along. “I’m clean too...and, it’s been a while.” He hates to admit that last bit but he wants you to know that this, whatever it is, is serious.

“Same.” Your answer surprises him and he’s about to ask how that’s possible but forgets the question when you shift closer to him and dig your nails into his thighs to grab his attention.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request sounds so pure rolling off of your tongue and Marcus pushes your knees wide open and settles between them. You continue to stare at him with hunger in your eyes as he strokes his cock a few times before he slides it across your wet slit. You’re already so sensitive from earlier but you can’t care less because you’ve only wanted to feel him inside you for the better half of the day. Marcus bites his lower lip and grasps your hips with one hand as he positions himself against your entrance and slowly pushes past your wet folds. He feels your walls already clenching around him and he hesitates for a moment as he moves his hands across your back to try and get you to loosen up.

“F-fuck...relax sweetheart. Relax for me please. I- I don’t- oh god, h-how are you this tight?” Your walls flutter around him when his hoarse, almost pained voice sounds through the room. “You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock in that pretty little cunt. Fuck, that’s it. Let me in sweetheart...could make you feel so good. Shit, that’s it.” Marcus cooes above you as he feels you slowly sucking him in. You sigh heavily when he finally sheathes himself completely inside you and it’s not until a few moments later that you realize he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Marcus, m-move. Fuck, just- move.” Your impatient groans make him twitch inside you and the two of you hiss when his hips jut forward at your gasped requests. His hands hold onto you a little harshly, squeezing the skin of your hips and making you giddy at the thought of seeing those bruises the following day.

“Just wait...please baby I- I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so fucking good around me and- and I...oh fuck, f-fuck...squeezing the shit out of me. Please I-”

“Fuck. Me.” You turn your head around enough to look at him and find the sight of his sweaty forehead and furrowed eyebrows intoxicating. He can sense your eyes on him and reluctantly looks down at you when you pronounce those two words, watching as you pierce him with a harsh gaze as you roll your hips against him.

“I- are you…”

“Fucking please...take what you want.” The desperate tone of your voice breaks him and he pulls away until the tip of his cock is nudged in between your folds before he snaps his hips forward aggressively.

You shut your eyes and cry into your pillows as Marcus lets go and pounds into you. He’s no longer trying to hold back and you feel proud of the effect you have on him. Thinking back to the past hour, you realize that Marcus was going out of his way to control himself and not hurt you. But with every brush of his cock against your inner walls, with every groaned swear word and whispered affirmation, you can’t help but beg for him to fuck you harder. To take you like a crazed man. Because now that you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of, you don’t want him to ease up on you.

“Shit baby, you’re perfect. Fucking perfect. Your cunt is begging for my cock sweetheart. Can you feel how deep I am? How deep this tight pussy is sucking me in?” Marcus nudges your knees a little farther apart as he plunges into you over and over again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him and as you try to reach back to hold onto his hands, Marcus lets go of your hips and grabs your wrists, using them as leverage to fuck you deeper.

You scream his name as his thrusts become relentless, the resonating sound of skin against skin reminding you of how sore you were going to feel for the rest of the week. You can’t really pay attention to what he’s saying anymore, choosing to focus on the way his dick fills you up completely and hits your special spot with precision. The thought of knowing that you’re at this man’s mercy and that he’s using you like he owns you makes you shudder and Marcus doesn’t realize you’re coming around him until he feels a pressure push out of you. He looks down and watches your cunt gushes on his cock and thighs again, the sight somehow even prettier the second time than the first.

He waits until you’re no longer convulsing in his arms before he thrusts his cock back into your pussy. Marcus leans down and wraps his arms around your front to bring you flush against his chest. Marcus brushes your hair aside and nuzzles into your neck as he begins to roll his hips against your ass, trying to drive his cock into you even further without hurting you. You reach around and pull on his hair when he bites on the juncture of your neck.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” The confession feels more intimate than anything he’s said to you thus far and you throw your head back and smile when his hands roam your front and settle on your navel.

“Marcus...please.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything. Tell me...oh god, I- I’m so close.” Marcus kisses across your shoulder as one hand cups your breasts while the other descends to your clit. He feels you convulse around him but he doesn’t move his hand away, wanting to feel you cum one last time around his cock.

“I- I need you to cum for me...cum inside me. Fill me up baby...wanna feel you so deep inside me. Make a mess of my cunt. Please.”

“C-can you give me another?” He’s breathless, his pace faltering when he feels your walls squeeze around him tightly with every pass of his cock against your heated core.

‘I- I don’t think I can...too much baby.”

“Please, for me. Cum for me o-one last time...oh god, I’m close sweetheart. B-but I wanna cum with you. Please oh fuck- oh god, I- I’m fucking coming.” He growls into the crook of your neck as he rubs at your clit harshly, crying your name like a prayer as he feels you milk him dry. His thrusts are desperate and you pull on his hair harder than you intend when you feel his cum fill you up. Marcus can barely breathe as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy and feels you pulse around him. He continues to buck against you, the caveman mindset telling him to breed you and fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.

He stays motionless for a few minutes before he finally registers that you probably need to rest. As carefully as possible, Marcus pulls out and cradles your body against him as he lays you on your back. He looks down at you and smiles when he sees the mess he’s made between your thighs. He tries to get off the bed to bring you a cup of water and grab a wet towel when you reach out and pull him by his wrist.

“I need to clean you up sweetheart.” He tries to reason with you but you shake your head and pull harder on his hand so he could sit next to you.

“No just- come here. I need you. Please.” Marcus doesn’t have to be told twice. He lays down next to you and kisses your forehead when you cuddle into his arms. He draws circles on your shoulder and back when he feels your fingers play with his chest hair.

“Are you alright baby?” Marcus asks and pulls his head back when you hum a soft ‘yes.’ He searches your expression for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds none, he rests his head back again and lets you explore his skin.

“Hmm...did you know that hair was used in some ancient spells to ensure that the desired outcome occurred?” You break the silence after a while and Marcus furrows his eyebrows at you when you look up from his chest and meet his face.

“Uhh should I be worried Y/N?” He asks almost immediately and laughs when you panic and try to retract what you just said.

“Oh god sorry that- I didn’t mean...Jesus, I still need to work on my bedside manner.”

“I was kidding sweetheart. I actually enjoy listening to people talking about their interests, it’s a little calming. And no, I didn’t know that. What kind of spells are we talking about here?” You’re surprised by his response but say nothing and continue to follow the soft trail of hairs down his chest.

“Well, there are lots of curses that didn’t need hair but it was better if they were added...for efficacy and such. But the most common spells that required little curls like these were love spells, which technically are also curses but it sounds better when you say that it’s just a spell.”

“Are you trying to tell me something doctor?” Marcus can’t help but tease you again and he snorts when you sit up on your elbow and try to justify what you just said. He pulls you back into his arms and brushes your hair aside to take a better look at you.

“Oh no no, I just- I tend to think about this stuff at random times. Sorry. I swear I’m too much of a wimp to actually try anything. You never know if the desired outcome has any side effects...”

“No need to apologize baby. Besides, I don’t think you’ll ever need love magic with me.” The admission is out before he can stop himself and he cringes at himself, hoping that you don’t misunderstand him.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Agent Pike?” The hint of amusement in your tone lets him know that you didn’t mind teasing him back and he blinks a few times at the ceiling before he turns to gaze into your eyes.

“Well, you’re doing fine on your own being this amazing human being. You’re mesmerizing when you’re lecturing, you’re confident in your skills and knowledge, your intelligence is- I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface with the case today. And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen...we could work a bit on your art choices but-”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder and try to slither away from him but he’s too quick and wraps his arms around you before you can get off the bed.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding...your art choices are the cherry on top.” Marcus nudges your nose with his and leans down to kiss you. He smiles when you moan beneath him. But the kiss is cut short when you push him away suddenly and narrow your eyes at him.

“You never told me how you knew which ones I commissioned.”

“Ugh no please, you’re going to think I’m a pervert.” Marcus falls back on the bed and tries to hide behind his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You slowly trail your hand down his stomach and wrap it around his cock. It’s all Marcus needs to lower his arm and look down to where you’re touching him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back when you lean forward and nip at his jaw.

“B-baby fuck...oh god, please. I- I need a few more minutes and-”

“Tell me, please.” You cut him off with a bite to the shoulder, giggling when he thrusts up into your loose hold to get more friction.

“I- I was picturing the two of us...fuck, re-reenacting those scenes and those two jumped out more...more than the third.” He can barely speak through the haze you’ve put him in, and moans your name when you reach down and fondle his balls just as you whisper in his ears.

“How scandalous of you Agent Pike!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Marcus whines for you, the arm around your back pulling you flush to him and giving him perfect access to your breasts. He wraps his lips around one nipple and softly sucks on it as you continue to stroke his cock.

“Hmm, I like the sound of you begging...baby. Tell me, do you by any chance have your handcuffs on you?” The question catches him off guard, and he pulls away to look at you, finding a different kind of fire dancing behind your eyes.

“Fuck…I- uhh, they’re in the car. W-wait where are you going?” Marcus regrets his answer as soon as you let go of him and jump off of the bed. He watches as you run to the bathroom without answering him, only to return a few seconds later with bright red handcuffs clanking between your fingers.

“To get my own set Agent. Like you said, you and I need to get acquainted.” You unlock them as you walk back to the bed and straddle his thighs. Marcus looks at you with adoration and softly nods at you when you silently ask him if you could cuff him to the headboard of your bed.

“I’m yours sweetheart, take what you want.”

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@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @fan-of-encouragement @evelynseventyr

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal #yall don't understand how much I love this fucking character #he's literally the softest #and he deserves the world #ugh #anyway

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