#and women can have short hair or not have breasts or even have ducks
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~ MLB Curious Gazes ~
prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.
word: 6k +
warnings: language, mentions of sexual content
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The Doctor’s Office
Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning.
She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.
The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.
Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing.
He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.
In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.
The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.
His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.
The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.
She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.
Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.
Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.
Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus
Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!
Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration
Holy shit.
She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.
Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.
Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.
Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.
“Good job, ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.
Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”
Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.
YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.
The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.
Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.
Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.
She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.
“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.
“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.
“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.
It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”
Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”
The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.
Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.
When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”
Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.
“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.
Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”
The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”
Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”
“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.
Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”
“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.
A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.
“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.
Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”
Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”
The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.
“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”
Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.
He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .
Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.
“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.
-
Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office.
Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.
She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?
After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.
His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.
Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention.
The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”
It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.
Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe.
After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play.
He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.
It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”
“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”
Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.
--
The Charity Event
It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square.
It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.
There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code.
It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.
Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles.
She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms.
The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.
Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.
She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***
It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?
Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.
Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.
As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob.
Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.
“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.
“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.
Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads.
Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.
At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”
Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?
“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.
Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”
YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.
Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”
The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.
“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.
“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.
YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.
“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.
“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.
Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”
Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”
He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”
Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”
Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”
“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.
Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.
He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”
Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.
Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.
She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.
It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.
Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.
“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”
Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.
“He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”
It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.
Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.
One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.”
“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.
“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”
The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.
Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.
When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.
“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.
The crowd whistles and coos.
Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.
“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”
She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.
“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.
“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”
The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.
When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.
Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”
“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.
Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.
He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.
-
After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.
When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.
Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.
Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.
“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”
And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.
“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.
“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.
God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.
When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.
YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.
As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”
Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.
-
The Little League Game
It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.
The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.
Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.
He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.
They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.
As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.
Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.
The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).
She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.
“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.
“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”
“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.
She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.
Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”
“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.
“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.
“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.
“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.
“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.
“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.
“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.
Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?
The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.
He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.
Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.
Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.
Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.
Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.
“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.
“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.
“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”
“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”
Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”
YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”
“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.
It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.
As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***
Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.
“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him.
“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”
“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”
Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.
“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.
Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”
Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.
As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.
--
The Campfire
Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.
Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.
It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.
Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.
Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.
Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.
Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.
“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.
“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.
Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.
Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.
Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.
Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.
When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.
As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.
She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.
After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.
Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.
Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”
Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”
The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.
Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.
Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”
YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”
The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.
Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.
Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.
“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.
Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”
“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.
“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”
Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.
But not tonight.
YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.
“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.
“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.
“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.
Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”
All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”
Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.
“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.
When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.
At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.
“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.
Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”
“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.
“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.
Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor.
All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.
-=-=-=-=-=-
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Advertising for freemium games is so, so strange. It's like, one game will get successful, and then all the other games will copy the ads for that game, so that you have a ton of games that seem identical.
Things I've learned from watching these ads (which don't even show the true gameplay/story of the apps most of the time):
From ads for games 'for girls' (ugh)
You will play as a white woman with red or reddish-brown hair.
This woman will be excited to get pregnant, but her husband will either pull a freaky face and rush out of the relationship as soon as the pregnancy test is pushed under his nose, or she will walk in to find him about to fuck the maid/the neighbour/the babysitter/etc. No man will ever be happy to get the news that he's going to be a father.
Heartbroken, this woman will drag a suitcase through a rain/snowstorm and find an abandoned house and/or restaurant, possibly left to her by a dead relative. She may or may not have an existing kid with her at this point, because the cheating husband is evil and will try to take the kid away via a custody battle.
Woman will badly attempt DIY by choosing to duct tape a broken window, vacuum up leaking water until the vacuum cleaner explodes, or stick something metal into a socket with electrical sparks coming out of it (presumably electrocuting the fetus in the process of her ineptitude, but somehow not requiring immediate hospitalisation).
Woman will then fall to her knees and cry, because what is she without a man to help her?
If this woman isn't failing at DIY, she'll have a restaurant full of mould and dirt with angry customers everywhere, and somehow the solution to this is...a makeover?
Any woman with crooked teeth, a monobrow, acne or strange-looking outfits is to be pitied and laughed at (and sometimes as a bonus, if you fail the makeover challenge, her new love interest will leave her).
From ads for games 'for boys' (argh)
All women are attractive, have huge breasts and are presumably single.
If you are a man swimming in a pool, and you see an attractive woman with a short skirt walking by the side of the pool, it's perfectly acceptable to duck down under the water, to try and get a better angle to see up her skirt.
Nurses are always female and wearing 'sexy nurse' Halloween costumes.
If a female character is good at combat, she must also be wearing a chainmail bikini or some other ridiculous excuse for armour.
Men have muscles and have weapons. Muscles good. Weapons good. Explosions good.
If you're a rich mobster, women will drape themselves over you by default.
Sometimes women are into other women, but that's okay if you can select an option for your male character to join them in bed/in a hot tub/whatever.
I just...really hate advertising tropes.
#freemium games#gender stereotypes#advertising tropes#homescapes#gardenscapes#klondike adventures#family island#etc etc
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Bleed Not For Death, But For Love:
A Lady Dimitrescu x Female Reader Series
Chapter 1: Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu
I came to Castle Dimitrescu in a desperate attempt at finding income. Back home, far away from here, I was a slave to my parents. I would clean day in and day out, so I figured that once the time came, I would leave to find work elsewhere doing what I do best: cleaning. I just didn’t think it would take me across the continent. When I first came to the small village in Romania, I was expecting something more… modern. To my surprise, it looked like not much had changed since the 1950s. Not that it bothered me much, I preferred the natural, earthy aesthetic it had over modern tech and everything else that comes with living in this era.
I’d heard many things about the Lady of the castle, but the main thing everyone always mentioned was her height. Me, being just above 5 feet, I couldn’t fathom how 9’6” would look in person. I was excited to see her and experience the regality everyone talked about, but what I didn’t realize was how unprepared I actually was.
……..
I start shaking as I begin walking across the drawbridge towards the castle. Is it out of excitement, fear, anxiety, the cold? I don’t think I’ll ever know. I’m greeted by torches and steps that seem to be worn every third step. Was that how long her stride was? I could feel the curiosity begin to well up in my chest and I let out a long sigh, realizing I had been holding my breath. I reach the front door and am about to knock and reach for the lever when I hear giggling from behind the doors getting louder and louder. I take a step back as the door flings open and I’m swarmed by flies that begin to materialize as three women shrouded in black cloaks.
“Ooooh, Mother bought us a new toy,” one coos playfully.
“Or food?” another says as she gets closer and lifts a piece of my hair with a finger and lets it slide off as she walks away, circling me.
“Let’s take her to Mother, I’m sure she will want to know she’s arrived,” the last one says in a playful voice. They all giggle, grab me by the hands and arms as they disperse into their swarm of flies, and carry me through the halls.
I was so alarmed by their ability that I didn’t take time to visually map out the hallways they brought me through. I was just stunned. I couldn’t fathom how it was possible. Before I know it, I’m in what seems to be a guest room with a fireplace for the only source of light other than a few dim lanterns accented with gold.
When my feet reconnect with the ground, I lean forward on my knees to regain my balance and breath. That was as exacerbating as it was thrilling and I needed a moment of composure, but I didn’t get it as I heard one of the girls say, “She has arrived, Mother.” I look to my left where I see a chair turned almost perpendicular to the fireplace next to a regular-sized bed and see a very tall figure rise, her back turned to me. I scramble to stand up straight and regain my composure as quickly as I possibly could before she turns to face me. I’m still attempting to straighten up my skirts when I look up and make eye contact with blue and golden irises. I freeze and try not to let my jaw fall in awe.
She is more stunning than I could’ve ever imagined. Her pale skin draped in an off-white dress, her breasts largely exposed, her lips painted crimson, and her golden eyes embossed with black and pink shades. Her short, black hair is put in perfect curls hidden by a largely brimmed, black sun hat, and her demeanor all catch me off guard. Her height is unfathomable, even as I stand there in person. I imagine I only come up to the top of her hip. We lock eyes and she smiles.
“Well then! If it isn’t Y/N!” Your punctuality is much appreciated,” she states simply, but somehow dramatically at the same time. Her voice has a husky, low, and commanding timbre, which is to be expected given her height.
“Of course, my lady,” I say, finally breaking our eye contact to bow my head with respect, only to glance back up and reconnect our gaze. I see the confidence I could only dream of having. She sets down a crimson and silver wine glass and takes a few intimidating steps towards me.
“Do you recall the job you were offered and the tasks that come with it?” she asked testingly. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can answer, her voice fills the room once more.
“The last person in your position was caught as a thief, I need not go into the details of her punishment. Just know she was immediately… terminated,” she says huskily, and as a clear warning.
“Yes, my lady. As the Grand Chambermaid, I am to keep your chambers and any halls clean, I am to draw your baths, brush your hair, make sure your linens are clean and prepared, and I am to make sure all your daily needs are met,” I say as calmly and professionally as I can. She grins widely, her smile entrancing.
“Wonderful. You are standing in your bedroom, so make yourself comfortable here. Your tasks begin at dusk, learn to defamiliarize yourself with the sun,” she says with heavy command in her voice before she walks towards the door. Her daughters giggle and wave flirtily as they return to their insect swarms and flee from my room. I watch the Lady of the castle follow behind them, then to my surprise, she looks back at me with a grin.
“Oh, and Y/N? Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu,” she says with a chuckle before ducking through the double doors and out of sight. I let out a huge sigh and sit down in the chair she recently occupied. I notice she left her lipstick-stained wine glass on the little table in front of me. I feel the urge to take it to the kitchen for washing, but I decide to leave it till the morning, I need to sleep. Tomorrow is my first big day, and I want to avoid her version of termination at all costs.
Next: Chapter 2: My First Day
#alcina dimitrescu#lady alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x reader#alcina x maiden#alcina x reader#lady dimitrescu x female reader#re8 fanfiction#re8 fanfic#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu x reader#re8 village
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Can we have some sexy time with gray that stars out rough but ends up soft and cute🥺
I’m gonna make it a continuation of this concept bc low key it’s one of my faves and yk.. why not.
Also I was gonna try to finish this on my laptop so I could put the keep reading break so I don’t clog ppls dashes but tumblr never fucking works on there and I couldn’t do it :/ sorry
A/N: hi hello just finished writing this and it turned out to be garbage but I wanted to post something for the ppl asking. If you are one of those ppl I’m sorry for this haha truly it was just the best I could do for now.
***
For the first half of the ride home, Grayson’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. You can feel the tension still brewing in him in the way his calloused fingers grip the soft, bare skin; in the heavy sighs he releases every few minutes and the sudden revs of the engine as he speeds down the highway.
His lingering frustrations at the situation that happened in the mall make you smile softly, and you interlace your fingers with the ones stroking your thigh. Eyes big and sympathetic, you bring the back of his hand to your lips. “Baby, relax,” your murmur against his skin quietly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
Grayson shakes his head and glances at you as he pulls your joined hands into his lap. “I fuckin hate guys like that. Can’t believe he put his hands on you.”
“He touched you?” Ethan piped up from the backseat, voice incredulous. “Oh, fuck that. If that has been K...”
The short remainder of the car ride was filled with the twins loud, enthusiastic rants about douchebag chauvinistic men who have no respect for women. It warms your heart, makes your chest fill with pride at the thought of how good your man really is. You squeeze his hand and stroke his arm gently, dragging your nails up and down the veins popping out from the stress and anger he’s both somehow releasing, but also still carrying.
The three of you make it home, and Ethan is immediately hopping out of the car with his shopping bags, eager to see his girlfriend and show her what he had bought her while she had been out with friends. Grayson’s jaw is clenched as the two of you follow his brother inside, and you make your way immediately to his room; you think you know exactly what he needs to get rid of that last bit of well-intended machismo energy he’s got in him.
Sure enough, Grayson shuts the door behind him with a little more force than he really intended, tosses all the shopping bags he had carried in for you to the ground, and wraps those strong arms around your waist in all of two seconds of the door being locked. You giggle and let him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands gently to bring your lips together.
He walks the two of you to his bed and lays you down as gently as he can while you’re still clinging to him, mouths never separating as he captures your lips over and over again in hot, relentless kisses. When your back hits the mattress, you moan softly and hitch your leg higher up his side, his hand sliding to your ass and grabbing a handful of it through your shorts.
“I need you,” he says gruffly between kisses, panting heavily. He squeezes your cheek again, and uses his grip to haul your hips closer to his while simultaneously lowering some of his weight onto you. You can feel the hard ridge of him against your center, and it makes you gasp. “Can I, please?”
“Yeah, baby,” you agree easily, almost as desperate for Grayson now as he is for you. He’s sexy and kind and good and you love him, and you imagine the scenario of some girl running her hands on those thick arms you love so much, or the swell of his abs over his shirt, and you realize the healthy possessiveness very much runs both ways. Your blood runs hot, and you slip your hands under his shirt to feel the rippling planes of his back. “Want you so bad.”
He growls, deep and primal, and you bite your lip as he sits up and whips his shirt over his head by the collar. It gets tossed blindly to the corner of his room, and you’re instantly reaching out to run your hands over all those muscles covered by soft, tan skin.
Grayson sighs and lets you indulge for a few moments, his lips quirking up at the corners for a quick second and ruining that sexy scowl as he watches you admire him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. His big, warm hands cup your hips, and he shuffles down some as he slides your oversized shirt up so your stomach becomes exposed for him — supple skin that’s just begging to be kissed.
So he does. His lips are soft and a little wet from the kisses you had shared just a minute ago, but they’re hot and insistent as he makes his way up your torso. Goosebumps flare in their wake, and you shudder beneath his smirk. Grayson pushes your shirt up further, just beneath your bra now, fingers shifting grips from the dips of your waist to the ridges of your rib cage now.
You don’t need words to know what he wants, so you lift your arms overhead the second he bunches the shirt up past your tits. His tongue drags over your sternum once it’s thrown across the room, then he’s swiping it over the buds of your nipples peaking through the sheer mesh of your bra.
Your back arches up into him with a gasp, fingers delving into his thick hair as he grunts and tugs the cups of your bra aside to free your tits for him. Your nipples tighten even more, damp from his tongue and now completely exposed to the cool air of his room — not to mention, the way he’s looking at you right now has every nerve ending in your body excited.
His pretty hazel irises, usually so soft and comforting, are consumed now by the dark of his pupils, despite the warm sunlight shining through the window. Those smoldering eyes stay locked on yours as he ducks his head to suck your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth, his hand kneading your other breast roughly.
“Love your tits,” he huffs against you after a minute of making you writhe beneath him. His tongue trails to the center of your chest, and he nuzzles your cleavage, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. His stubble scratches against the plush, delicate flesh there, but it’s a mere second before he’s switching breasts to give each the opposite treatment.
You lose his eyes when he shuts them to really absorbe the touch and taste of you, but you don’t mind when he smells so good and feels so familiar and uses those lips and tongue and fingers so fucking good. You whimper and clutch him even closer to you than he already is, perfectly content to have him suck at your tits for as long as he pleases. The feel of him big and heavy and warm on top of you is as relaxing as it is arousing, being so consumed by the sensations of him up top while his erection fits snugly against your pussy.
“Grayson,” you whisper desperately. He looks up at you, and you’re taken by the softness behind the desire in his gaze. He follows the tug on his hair you give to drag him up for a kiss, and you both sigh happily into one another’s mouths when they reconnect. It goes without saying that you could kiss this man forever.
You tighten your legs around his waist and and urge him to rock his hips into yours. Grayson obliges readily, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as he starts grinding into you. His hand returns to your ass, holding you against him for the perfect leverage while he sucks on your tongue and tries to find the right angle to put just the right pressure on your clit.
It’s like any moment of softness and slowness gives him time to remember what got the two of you here this afternoon in the first place, and the ravenous energy from before picks right back up. You’re definitely not complaining by the ebb and flow of everything; it only heightens your own desperation for him, to know he cares so much and wants you to the point of making you cum just from some heavy dry humping.
As if he can read your mind (or maybe you his), Grayson pulls away from the kiss and drags his free hand up your thigh, squeezes your waist, and punches your nipple on his way to grip your cheeks gently but firmly in those strong, calloused fingers. He makes sure you’re looking him dead in the eye again when he tells you in a deep, rumbly voice, “Wanna make you cum in these fucking shorts. Can you cum for me, baby?”
You nod as best you can in his grasp, shifting your head enough to slip his pointer finger into your mouth. You watch him watch you suck it, his hips pressing harder into yours as the pleasure and overall arousal turns up for both of you. His cheeks are flushed and his chain dangles between you, glinting in the sun and reflecting bright spots on the tan skin of his pecs.
A moan escapes you, vibrating around his finger before you add the middle one for a few moments, too. You let him push them down your tongue until the tips touch the back of your throat, and you pull them out with a slight gag and a seductive smile.
“Make me cum,” you murmur hotly, guiding his hand between your bodies and slipping it past your waistband — leaving the shorts with that little logo on the leg on, just as he requested. “I’m so close already, Gray. Please.”
Grayson moans himself and shifts his weight so you’re flat on your back and he’s hovering over you with a hand planted next to your pillow. He touches your pussy for the first time this whole afternoon just as you arch your back to reach beneath you and unhook your bra.
You fling the useless garment across the room and grab immediately onto his forearm by your head, the other clutching the sheets in attempts to ground yourself from the sudden surge in pleasure emanating from your clit. Grayson circles it a couple of times before sliding one, then two, fingers to the hilt.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he groans. You can only nod and moan, then cry out his name when he curls his fingers just right and finds your spot, like he knew right where to look and wanted to waste no time getting to it. He latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your pulse point while he builds that wave inside you. His fingers don’t pump in and out, but stay hooked on that spot that’s making you moan and whine, using his wrist to vary the pressure on it until you’re absolutely losing it, exploding on his hand with broken whimpers of his name.
You’re still high in the sky when he sucks his fingers in his mouth with an appreciative moan and tugs off your shorts finally, then his own, before crawling back on top of you. Naked together and still riding the lingering aftermath of that orgasm, you hum contentedly and accept the hot, desperate kiss he pulls you into.
“Wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching between you to rub the tip of his dick up and down your soaking wet folds. Even though you’re still sensitive and satisfied, almost nothing can bring you back to a stare of pure arousal like when he teases your hole like that — so close but not enough. It awakens this primal, incessant feeling of absolutely needing to be filled up, and you can’t wait anymore.
You thread your fingers through the back of his hair and arch your hips to encourage him to slip inside, which he finally does with a guttural groan.
“Fuckin give it to me, Gray,” you say once he has a steady rhythm built up. It’s not enough for either of you today, though, and you both know it. You need closer, hotter, harder, more.
Grayson looks wild, his hair sticking up in all directions from your wandering hands, eyes dark but bright, a thin sheen of sweat illuminating ever ridge and valley of muscles on his torso. He doesn’t give you much more time to look, however, as he hooks your knees over his elbows and leans down over your body.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he tucks his face against your own as he starts pounding, his balls slapping against you ass with every hard thrust. The angle is catching you just right and the sharp, pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into your collarbone only brings everything to a new level. His quiet but audible grunts and moans float right to your ear, the best sounds in the world as he delivers exactly what you asked for.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into the sinews of his back. Grayson keeps driving into you with renewed purpose, absolutely set on getting you there again with nothing more than his cock.
“Yes, baby, please,” he begs, groaning loudly when he feels you start to clamp down on him. “That’s it... all over my dick... pussy feels so goddamn good.”
You should be sleepy and beyond satisfied at this point, but his heated words make you want to absolutely ravage him. With that, there’s the glow only a couple of amazing orgasms from the man you love can make you feel that fills your chest. So when you’re able to voluntarily move your limbs again, you push back on his chest so he has to stop sucking sweet little kisses into the collumn of your neck. He looks at you a little confused, but you just smile gently and keep putting pressure against him until he ends up on his back.
You settle between his tattooed legs and admire the way his dick lies flat against that solid tummy of his, glistening with your juices. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you take him in your hand to guide his throbbing length between your kiss-swollen lips.
You suck your cum off his skin, humming in satisfaction while you watch him lay back with one hand behind his head and the other petting your hair gently.
“Love your dick,” you say before sucking the leaking tip into your mouth. “Only want yours, baby. Just made me cum so hard...” you trail off with a wanton moan, then get to work sucking him off for real. His eyes fall shut and his fingers work deeper into the loose strands of your hair for a firmer grip. You roll his balls in your palm, pulling out all the tricks you know he loves to get him there as well as he did for you. “Mine.”
He guides you deeper with the hand on your head, never pushing more than he know you’re willing to take; he loves the tangible feeling of that sweet mouth sucking him off, taking him as far down your throat as you can. You make it sloppy for him, letting all the drool and saliva coat his shaft until it’s dripping down his balls. You lift off him with a gasp and massage the slick into his skin before ducking down and sucking them one at a time into your mouth for a tongue bath while you jerk his dick off above you.
You can hear the hitch in his breath, see the short heaves of his chest when you follow the pressure he pulls on your hair in silent request to get you to suck him again. All signs point to him being about to bust, but you want more than his cum in your mouth.
You hurry to mount him, smiling when you catch his look of surprise. He moans as you sink down on him, and you pick up his hands to interlace your fingers for intimacy and leverage.
“Cum inside me,” you tell him, bouncing on him so your tits jiggle for him.
Grayson watches as long as he can, holding out until his eyes roll back and his fingers dig into the backs of your hands as he fills you up with deep, drawn-out moans. You grin in satisfaction, happily obliging him when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down so your chests are flush together.
You hum as he comes down and pepper kisses across his jaw, his nose, his closed eyes. Any bit of that handsome face you love so much that you can reach with your lips gets a sweet peck. Grayson sighs and lets you keep going until he’s gripping your hips and lifting you off his softening cock.
“Sorry if I got too caveman,” he mumbles tiredly after a few moments. “I just love you.”
You shake your head and bury your grin into his neck. “No need to apologize. Actually, I can’t wait to go back to that store with you. I still want those leggings.”
“Fuck off.”
#this is def one of the worst things ive written in a while#pls feel free to ignore it#i might try to rewrite eventually i just didnt think i could do#better than this at this point#ugh sorry#dolan twins#grayson dolan#blurb#g blurb
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Nesta’s Control
Warnings: major NSFW, small bit of swearing
A/N: so fun story, this was an untitled document for a while and I literally almost sent it to my construction studies teacher instead of my homework. Fair to say, my heart fell out of my ass, but it’s fine because I didn’t! Anywayyy I wrote this while drunk and it’s just pure smut like get ur holy water kids because this needs it. Not the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written but definitely the dirtiest I’m prepared to put on a public forum. Bit of dirty talk, bit of wing play, lots of edging. Enjoy this 2.5k of smut x
Cassian was naturally quite controlling and demanding in bed. And Nesta adored it, cauldron, she thrives off it, but she was also well aware of the effect she had on him.
She could see it in the final throes of pleasure when that mask cracked and pure desperation broke through as he seemed to forget everything but pleasure.
She lived for those moments when the general came out to play. Now she wanted to see the General beg.
Her plan was simple, since they were mated almost a year ago, they slept in the same bed and fucked at least once a day.
Nesta intended to keep him at arms length for several days and see how it affected him, it would be hard to pull off, both pragmatically and a test to her own will. But she knew the pay off would be worth it.
Nesta picked her days wisely. This week she was teaching a new group of priestesses and leading them in Valkyrie exercises. She knew how worked up Cassian got when she was barking commands at the women.
However, she successfully evaded her mate by eating dinner with Gwyn in the library and pretending to be asleep when he entered their room later in the evening.
The next morning she ensured he was awake and watching her as she dressed. Making a show of braiding her hair, knowing how much he enjoyed pulling it, and gliding on her leathers, knowing how much he enjoyed tearing them off her.
He looked inclined to do as much but she kept her scent hidden, kissed him lightly before dancing out of the room.
Cassian was on edge all morning at training, but Nesta pretended not to notice.
Cass was called away to a meeting with Rhys that evening and returned late into the night, to find his mate again asleep in bed. Except this time the sheets were covered in the scent of her pleasure. Nesta had ensured he would be well aware of what she had been doing while he was gone. He groaned at the thought of her.
Creamy thighs spread wide as she got herself off to the thought of them together. She probably bit that plump bottom lip of hers to keep those sweet moans quiet. She probably failed and groaned aloud as she finished. Then promptly fell asleep apparently.
Cassian had never despised his brother so much.
The next morning Nesta left before Cassian could even stir, not trusting herself to be near him when he was half asleep and likely to drag her back to bed.
She could barely look at him all during training and fled to meet her sister at the river house with out even changing out of her leathers. She wouldn’t put it past Cassian to swoop out of the sky and have his wicked way with her. Though she would undoubtedly immensely enjoy it, it would be detrimental to her plan.
Feyre, noting her distraction, had questioned her but Nesta changed the subject quickly. She had grown close with Feyre over the past year but this wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to have with her sister.
The high lady invited her to dinner and Nesta accepted gratefully. Knowing Cassian was in the House, probably eating dinner alone made her heart ache but she would make it up to him. Tonight was his final night of torment and she would make it all worth it.
But first she needed her sister’s help.
“Feyre, can you do me favour, no questions asked?”
The high lady looked mildly concerned, “You didn’t kill Mor did you?”
“No,” Nesta chuckled. “I need you to get Cass out of the house for the next few hours”
“Why?” Feyre asked.
Nesta stayed silent but her reddened cheeks gave it all away.
“Oh cauldron it’s a sex thing, isn’t it? Never mind, don’t answer that. Yes I’ll tell him I need help with … I’ll think of something ”
Nesta was saved further embarrassment by Rhys who had arrived to escort her back to the House.
Cassian was indeed gone when Nesta arrived home and not knowing how long she had, she quickly bathed, brushed out her hair and dressed in a short red nightgown that had previously brought Cassian to his knees.
She had just settled herself in, pretending to be asleep when she felt his presence coming down the hall. Every part of her yearned to leap up and greet him at the door, preferably on all fours, but she remained where she was.
Cass entered the room and stopped short at the sight of his mate in bed, hair fanning around her and wearing a nightgown the same shade as his siphons.
Nesta knew he was too much of a gentleman to wake her up but through their bond she could tell he needed release. He stripped off his leathers and water ran from the bathing room.
Minutes later, the bed shifted next to her and her mate planted a kiss on her head, then stopped short.
She had positioned the blankets perfectly so that from this angle he had a view straight to the swell of her breasts. He groaned and Nesta felt the force of a pure warrior focused on her.
It took all of Nesta’s willpower not to move as he reached down and gripped himself. It was not uncommon for them to pleasure themselves if one woke up, however usually the other woke soon after and joined them.
It took all of Nesta’s control not to leap around and ride him into the mattress but she kept her scent hidden and thought of all the ways she would rip those groans from him.
Nesta knew he wouldn’t be sated, not by his own hand. It may have provided a temporary release but Cauldron, he would be desperate for her.
His moans were fire to her blood as he finished into his hand and stepped into the bathing room to clean up.
Nesta loosed a breath, stilling again as he came back into the room, lay down next to her and tucked her into his side. She fell asleep to thought of him driving deep into her over and over.
Nesta dressed in her tightest leathers the next morning and may shouted at her troops more than strictly necessary, but Cassian was so distracted Az dragged him to the ground twice.
When they finished for the morning Cassian took her by the arm and dragged her into the house. The scent of his arousal was intoxicating.
The second they got inside the House he had her pinned against the wall, tongue down her throat, that long, hard length pressed against her.
She almost lost it then but she was so close, just a few more minutes and this would all be worth it. She lightly shoved him back but he didn’t move just continued to grind himself against her. Their leathers sliding easily and not providing nearly enough friction.
Nesta shucked off her top, knowing he would want to see her. He leaned back to drink his fill of her breasts and she took her chance.
Nesta threw her leathers to the ground and as he leant down to mouth her tits, she ducked.
Nesta went under his arm and sprinted down the hall, laughing as she heard him tearing after her. She leapt onto the bed and turned just in time to see his frame filling the doorway, wings splayed wide, eyes wholly black.
She was going to devour him.
He tore off his jacket as he approached her, then reached for her leggings. She took her opportunity. Faster than he could react, she flipped him over, pinning him to the bed, their bare chests against each other.
Nesta grabbed his hand, tying it to the middle of the bedframe with a loose piece of fabric they kept for this exact purpose. Though usually it was Nesta tied up and aching.
She left his other hand loose, knowing he’d have need of it.
“Minx” his eyes flashed, “what are you up to, my sweet thing?”
She kissed his chest them slid his leathers off his legs, leaving him wholly naked, “something you’re going to despise and ultimately adore.”
Tanned skin, dark wings spread and glowing eyes, he looked like a dream made flesh.
A filthy dream filled with hot mouths and grasping hands.
That would come later.
For now she stepped off the bed and turned her back to him. Bending over she stripped off her leggings.
She was already soaked and from the low groan behind her, Cassian was aware of that fact.
He was gripping himself when she turned back to him. Boldly pumping, his eyes fixed on her glistening apex.
She crawled towards him and leaned up to whisper softly in his ear, “Stop now sweetheart, or you won’t touch me for another week”
It seemed to take all of Cassian’s 400 years of strength to move his hand away from his throbbing cock but he reached for Nesta instead.
She let him smooth his hand down her face to her chest and cup her breast.
He flicked her nipple and leaned forward to take it in his teeth and it was Nesta’s turn to gather her willpower.
“Not allowed touch me either, darling” she said sweetly, moving away.
Cassian’s hand tangled with the bed sheets, muscled forearm straining as she spread her legs.
Cassian gritted his teeth, transfixed as Nesta trailed a hand down her torso.
That hand blazed a path lower till it reached where she was aching most.
She dipped two fingers into herself, gathering the wetness there and swirling it around.
Cassians hand strained against its binding, cloth biting into his wrist.
“You look so good spread out like that,” she moans, fingers plunging in over and over, deeper and deeper. “I can’t help but do this every time I think about you with your cock out.”
She wasn’t sure he was breathing.
“I need to do this every time you’re near but I can’t have you in me.”
Her legs jerked, she was nearing the edge but she needed something else.
“Touch yourself” she moaned out. “pleasure yourself to the sight of me.”
He almost sagged in relief. He gripped his reddened length in one hand roughly.
Cauldron, he was hot.
She was so close and he knew it too.
“Nesta,”he growled in warning.
She was aware of how much he needed to be the reason she came, but she also didn’t care. Seeing him hard and needy like that, tugging harshly at his thick cock.
She arched suddenly and came, hard.
As she came down she saw him still gripping himself.
That wouldn’t do.
“Stop.”
By some miracle he did.
His eyes were furious as she crawled towards him, so in appeasement and congratulations, she let him suck her wet fingers.
His eyes closed and his groan ignited something deep within her.
Nesta moved, straddling him and let a drop of her release fall onto his straining cock.
Cassian’s eyes shot open and his free hand grabbed her hip attempting to pull her onto him but she dodged out of the way.
“You know the rules,” she purred, “no touching without permission. Now sit up, I need full access to your wings.”
A shudder ran through the warrior but he did as he was told.
Good boy.
Said wings rustled as he spread them out fully across the bed.
Nesta had become well acquainted with these wings over the past few months and therefore knew which tendon, vein and scars to stroke to bring Cassian to that edge.
Naturally she went straight for them.
Cassian bit back a curse, low and viscous, as Nesta stroked a finger down the inside of one tendon.
Cassian’s hips jerked involuntarily as she leaned up and sucked slightly on the base of a talon.
She let her fingers glide across the membrane and watched a roll of precum escape the tip of his cock.
Nesta couldn’t help herself. Leaning over his shoulder she caught the droplet with her finger and brought it to her mouth. Cassian’s eyes followed her with a warriors focus
“Fuck you taste good”
He looked on the edge of cumming.
Good.
She trailed her teeth lightly across the top of his left wing and an unholy groan left his mouth.
“Nes please-“ his voice broke off as her tongue flicked lightly. “Nesta please- Mother spare me- Fuck Nesta”
His hands was twisted so hard in the blanket she thought the bed clothes might rip.
He was a mess. Hair askew, mouth open, eyes closed, cock hard like some hedonistic god.
She reached up and with a flick of her wrist undid the knot, at the same time she whispered “touch me Cass”
He was on her in a second, plunging into her the next.
There was no small touches, no teasing strokes just pure, unmitigated power.
He slammed into her, driving deep each time he thrust home.
She couldn’t help but tighten at the warrior slamming into her and he groaned his approval as wetness flooded through her.
Obscene noises filled the room as his balls slapped against her.
She moaned.
He followed the sound down to her mouth.
A bruising kiss, then harsh words spoken against her mouth.
“You keep me on edge for days”
Thrust.
“Hard every time you walk past me and unable to do anything about it”
White hot pleasure racing through her.
“Not able to concentrate on anything except the memory of this”
Coiling bliss.
“The memory of you so fucking tight around me. Fuck Nesta I can hardly think, hardly breathe when you’re near me and I’m not inside you, and you don’t let me take you for nearly an entire week?”
She didn’t have words to respond, couldn’t form coherent thoughts in her mind.
“Fuck Nes, you’re so-“ he groaned, hips stuttering and she knew he was close.
She wrapped her legs fully around him and grabbed the top of his right wing.
He slammed into her, desperate for release and unleashed himself inside of her.
At the first shot of warmth she unraveled. Tension raced up her legs and she arched into Cass as he continued thrusting and emptying into her.
Wrapped around each other, as intertwined and inseparable as their souls.
He shuddered finally stilling, head against her neck.
She looped shaking arms around his shoulders, body still trembling from just how hard she came.
“Nesta?” He croaked out, somewhere below her left ear.
“Yes, my darling?”
“That was the hottest thing ever, but please never make me wait that long again”
She laughed, “careful Cass, I’ll make you wait even longer.”
He hardened again within her and round two began.
Please let me know if you want to be tagged in all my writing or the Nessian stuff
Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @witchyautumnfae @nessian-trash-heap
#nessian smut#nessian fic#nessian#acosf spoiler#sjmsstuff writes#Nesta’s control#sjm fic#sjm books#sjm fandom#sjmaas#sjm#nessian fanfiction
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I'd Never
Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader
Summary: It’s not that Javier isn’t interested in you, but there are some lines that can’t be crossed. Especially when you’re his partner’s wife’s best friend in Bogatá and he’s a DEA agent with a bad track record with relationships. But there has to come a breaking point, and this is it.
Rating: M
Warnings: curse words, alcohol and cigarettes (don't smoke kids), jealousy, a tiny bit of fem!receiving oral. If there's anything else I missed call me out.
A/N: This started as a simple little thing about why Javi avoids relationships. Then it turned into a "what would be the breaking point of that avoidance, though?" And it turned into this whole big thing lol. No beta we die like men. Please leave me feedback and reblog if you like 🥺💖
It’s been two hours since Steve called Javier and told him Connie was dragging him out to the bar and Javier was coming too. Steve told him exactly when to be there and Javier showed up only five minutes late. That was an hour ago and he was currently wishing he had just stayed in his own apartment…
Finally, the bedroom door opened and Connie stepped out. She had on a short dress and some strappy heels, her hair curled and makeup done to perfection in dark, smokey colors.
“Can we leave yet? The bars are gonna be closed by the time you’re ready,” Javier quipped.
“Sorry to keep you from your drinks, Javi, but this woman’s hair would not cooperate.
It was only then that Javier saw you, stepping out behind Connie and dressed up similarly. Your dress was black, strapless and fitted at the waist, then flowing out into an a-line skirt that accented the curve of your hip. Your makeup was lighter than Connie’s, but the bright red lipstick brought attention to your mouth and had Javier licking his own lips.
“Sooo, are we ready or what?” Connie pulled Javier out of his reverie. She already had Steve by her side, helping her into her jacket by the door.
“Ready,” rasped the brunette, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his shirt. He escorted you and Connie to the front of the building while Steve went to bring the car around.
“Can I have one?” You asked from Javier’s right.
He immediately offered you the one he had lit and watched as your much smaller fingers took the cig from between his, brought it to your crimson lips and inhaled. You let the smoke roll out of your mouth before handing it over to him again. Taking it back, his dark chocolate eyes observed the red stain on the filter before he inhaled the last drag. Dropping the butt to the ground, he dug for another, lit it then handed it off to you immediately.
It was a practiced action between the two of you by this point. Ever since Connie brought you over for one of those weekly dinners she insisted Steve invite him to - “or he’ll never have a good meal, Stephen” - almost three months ago now. Javier wasn’t sure if you never actually had cigarettes of your own, or if you just made it a habit of stealing from him specifically, but you always asked for one and he never said no. At this point, he was certain he wouldn’t say no if you asked him for most anything.
***
At the bar, Steve and Connie go to find a table while Javier and you go up for the first round of drinks. The bar is crowded, but Javier easily carves out a spot for the two of you to wait for one of the bartenders.
It’s only a few minutes before a guy sidles up to your side and begins a conversation with you. Javier tenses, but the bartender distracts him for the moment as he gets everyone’s order in and waits. When he turns to hand you your drink, the guy is still there and you seem to be happily having a conversation, letting him lean in close to your ear so you can hear him over the music. With your drink in hand you give the stranger a smile and a nod before turning to Javier.
“I’m gonna go dance,” you say over the music.
Javier nods, but his mouth is curved down into a frown as he juggles three full drinks to the table that Steve and Connie claimed. He sits and glares out across the dance floor while the married couple next to him have a quiet conversation all their own.
He watches you as you dance with the stranger, his hand on your waste and head ducked toward your neck. He’s obviously saying something into your ear, and whatever it is makes you smile. As the guy turns your body so your back is pressed to his front, Javier feels a rolling, burning feeling in his stomach. He has no right to feel this way, he tells himself. You aren’t his to be possessive over.
It’s not that Javier isn’t interested in you, but there are some lines that can’t be crossed. Especially when you’re his partner’s wife’s best friend in Bogatá and he’s a DEA agent with a bad track record with relationships.
Javier isn’t good at long term relationships. He knows this well. It's the reason that he keeps his interactions with women strictly business, both professionally and sexually (though sometimes those two things can be one in the same in his job). It’s the reason he left Lorraine on the day they were to be married and ran away to Columbia. And it’s the reason he keeps you at a distance when all he wants is to hold you in his arms and smudge your lipstick across your lips as he kisses you. Because you deserve better than a fast burn relationship that leaves you broken, and he knows better than to think he can get it right this time.
Instead, he watches your body as it melts into this random, watches as your hips meet his and you both move in time to the tempo of the song. And he glares. It isn’t a conscious action, but he glares across the room as he absently drinks his beer.
"If you glare hard enough maybe the whole place will burn down," comments Steve with a knowing smirk. “Or maybe he’ll just disappear and you can finally just make a move.”
Javier turns his glare to his partner. “Very funny, Murphy.”
Connie stands and places an arm on his shoulder. “Just go out there, Javi. Dance with her,” she urges him before turning to her husband. “Come on, babe. Buy me another drink and come dance with me.”
Steve turns blue eyes to meet brown. “Meet ya out there?” he asks Javier with a snarky little smile.
“Yeah fucking right,” Javier mutters to Steve’s retreating back, eyes quickly finding their way back to you. He watches you. Watches as you embrace Connie and pull her in to dance. Watches as that stranger’s hand finds it’s way over your stomach and up, up, up until he’s grazing the bottom of your breasts. Watches as he finds himself pushing through the crowd, getting closer and closer to you, and as his own hand engulfs your wrist and pulls you away from the asshole.
“What the hell, Javi?” you exclaim, spilling a bit of your second drink between the two of you.
Javier doesn’t answer; he silently accepts the car keys from Steve and nods at his partner's brief, “we’ll catch a cab home, man.” Then he leads you through the bar, draping his leather jacket across your bare shoulders before you even hit the doors, and continues to lead you to the car.
“Javier! What the hell?” you reiterate. You don’t fight him, though, and you accept his chivalry when he opens the passenger door and helps you into the seat.
He mutters some excuse that you barely hear before he shuts the door and jogs over to get in the driver’s seat. He pulls out of the parking lot with only a muttered, “I’ll drive you home,” but stays quiet other than that. He barely remembers walking out onto that dance floor, doesn't know why he dragged you away, and has no words to explain himself to you. He knows he owes you more than that, owes you some sort of excuse that he can’t give. Not without opening a door to something that he’d never be able to take back.
He tries not to look at you sitting next to him, swamped in his coat with confused eyes and a pout on your painted lips. Instead, he focuses on his driving, focuses on the dark streets in front of him, and focuses on bringing his emotions back in check. Building his walls back up so that he doesn’t hurt you.
He lights a cigarette, taking two drags before silently handing it to you. You accept the smoke, finishing half of it before passing it back without a word. You both smoke two more cigarettes like this before Javier pulls up to your building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he finally breaks the silence. And so he escorts you all the way up to your door without so much as another word. In the harsh fluorescent lights, he can feel you observing him, knowing you can see the hardening of his brow over his stormy eyes, the way his mouth is turned down into a pouty frown and the hunch of his broad shoulders.
At your door, you pause and Javier knows you want him to say something. Anything at all to make you understand. But when he doesn't, you unlock your door, hand resting on the doorknob.
“You know what? No, Javi. I’m not going to let you just leave me here like this without an explanation,” you finally explode. “What was that about back there? Why did we leave early?”
Javier huffs, but his eyes refuse to meet yours. You won’t back down, though. “Please talk to me,” you practically begged now.
He has thought about this moment a lot, how he would respond if you finally confronted him about this push and pull that you both engaged in. The light flirtations that he allows himself to indulge in without ever letting it advance to the next step. Light touches as you pass the cigarette back and forth between quiet banter, eyes meeting across Steve and Connie’s dinner table, a fluttering of your lashes and the twist of his lips into a grin just for you.
Javier makes the mistake of meeting your eyes. “I didn’t like seeing that cabrón all over you,” he finally spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t like seeing any man looking at you the way he was, or dancing with you the way I should be.”
“The way you should be...?” you trail off, trying to understand what he’s saying.
“The way I want to be,” Javier adds.
There is a heavy pause between the two of you for a long moment, then you’re in Javier’s arms, eyes searching his expressive ones and looking for a sign that it’s ok to move forward. Javier answers that question by leaning down and capturing your lips with his - tentative, waiting to see where it goes. Wanting to see if he was really going to take this step after talking himself out of it for so long now.
You don’t give him too long to think about it, pressing into his chest and deepening the kiss. Javier pushes back, feeling your curves pressed into his torso as your back hits the door behind you. Your mouth tastes like tobacco with faint undertones of the alcohol you had been drinking and Javier finds himself falling into it. Any reason he has created to convince himself to keep you at arms length is crashing down around him.
Breaking the kiss when air becomes a necessity, Javier grasps your chin where your lipstick is smeared, wiping along the red stain before bringing his lips to yours again. Then it’s the fumbling to get into your apartment, the frantic removal of shoes and hands roaming skin. Making your way through the dark apartment, lit only by the orange streetlights filtering through the windows, Javier kisses every bit of skin he can find from your face to your shoulders. He takes note of all the noises you make, from the quiet gasp when he finds the soft spot behind your ear, to the giggle from that spot on your shoulder where his mustache tickles you.
Javier is pushing up the skirt of your dress, caressing your sides as he explores with his mouth, fingers dropping under the band of your panties and beginning to ease them down. Halfway down your thighs, Javier grasps your hips again and lifts until you are seated on one of the stools at your kitchen counter.
Kneeling between your legs, Javi looked up at you, eyes reflecting black with lust. “I want this all for myself,” he rasps out.
“It’s yours,” is your response, voice husky and dark.
At your word, Javier wastes no time latching his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thighs, exploring this new expanse of skin slowly. By the time he reaches his intended destination, he has you squirming in the seat, leaking onto the fabric beneath you and begging him to hurry up. And being the weak man that he is when it comes to you, he gives in easily and finally delves into the sweetness of your core.
He tries to take his time still, savoring in the moment. But you are impatient now, bucking into his face and letting out a constant stream of commentary, “please, Javie. So close. Please don’t stop.” And how could he stop when he finally had you here? Finally gets to hear your moans and taste you on his tongue. By the time your first orgasm has washed over you, he has already decided to see how many times he can make you beg in one night. How many times he can say yes to you and earn his name on your lips.
By the time you are both spent, he's lying with you in the crumpled sheets of your bed. He basks in the afterglow as you cuddle into his side, head resting on his chest and his arm around your shoulders tracing patterns across soft skin. Once he is sure you have fallen asleep, he begins to ease his way from under you. He doesn’t get far though, as your hand reaches out to grasp his larger one.
“Please say you’ll stay,” you whisper sleepily. Javier instantly relaxes back into your pillows, hand shifting to encase your much smaller one in his.
“I’d never say no.”
#narcos#narcos fanfic#Javier Peña#Javier Peña x Reader#Javier Peña x You#pedro pascal characters#Pedro Pascal character fic
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the lesson - Steve x Reader
pairing: Steve x Reader
summary: a continuation of the Faker - you decide to teach Steve how to have good sex.
word count: 4.2k of pure fuckin smut baby
warnings: SMUT. swearing.
a/n: this is my fucking magnum opus y'all. this is it. it won’t get any better. I have reached my peak. I really hope you guys enjoy dorky and silly Steve learning how to have sex! this was really amazing and fun to write!! there WILL be another part to this so keep your eyes peeled!
===
On a Thursday afternoon, you get a phone call. Sitting up in bed, you grab the phone from beside you.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I need your help.” It’s Steve.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I – fine,” he says. “I need your help.”
“Yes?” you say, confused.
“Do you… happen to have… Stacy MacNamera’s number?”
You still, confusion increasing. “Your ex-girlfriend Stacy?”
“Yeah.”
“…You want her number?”
“Yes.”
You drop your head into your free hand. “Steve… why-“
“Look, I’ll cut to the chase,” he says. “Remember our… conversation?”
“The one where I told you women fake all the time?”
“Yeah, that,” he says. His voice becomes soft and you lean into the phone to hear him better. “I want to ask – to see if I was – if she faked it for me.”
You have no words.
“I need your help because Robin won’t –“
“Yeah, no shit, Robin won’t!” You groan, straightening. “What makes you think I will help?”
He pauses. “Um… because – I will really appreciate it?”
“Just ask Nancy. For fuck’s sake, Steve, you can’t just call someone you dated in high school to ask if you dicked them down good enough.”
“I can’t ask Nancy,” he scoffs. “That’s weird.”
“Weirder than asking someone from four years ago if she liked your –“
“I’ll call you back,” he groans, and hangs up.
You slowly put the phone back on the receiver, absolutely speechless. You hope the guy doesn’t stick his foot in his mouth even more so than usual.
===
A knock comes on your door a few hours later. You run downstairs and open it, only to be met with Steve, looking like a lost puppy. You can tell his hand has been through his hair more than a dozen times, and he looks stressed.
“Results weren’t good, huh?”
“Can I come in?” he asks sadly. You relent, stepping to the side, and he heads straight for your couch. He slams his body into it and ducks his head into his arms.
“What happened, champ?” You ask sympathetically, sitting down across from him.
After a moment, he speaks. “She said I was okay. She said when we had sex the first time, she didn’t get the hype.”
You suppress a laugh.
“She said it was mediocre,” he continues, and moves his head to the side to look at you. “She said I was fine with moving my hips, but not much else. And then she said I didn’t know what the – what the -?” He furrows his brows. “The… click? Is?”
“What did you just say?” you ask, leaning forward and almost falling out of the chair. “The click?”
“Is that like, when you know you love someone?” he says, frowning. “Because I think I get the click –”
“Steve,” you breathe, eyes wide. “Steve, you dumbass. Did she say the clit?”
His brows furrow, and then he nods. “Yeah, yeah, the clit.”
“Steve,” you moan, burying your head in your hands. “The clit is a body part, dude. It’s near the vagina.”
“I’m hopeless!” he cries, shoving his head back into his arms. You roll your eyes at his dramatics.
“Calm down,” you say, getting up and kneeling in front of him. You rub his shoulders. “You just need a girl to teach you –“
“You!” he says, bolting into an upright position. “You teach me!”
“What?” you ask, incredulous. “You want me to teach you how to have good sex?”
“Well, yeah,” he says, looking at you like you’re stupid. “It’s not weird, we’re just friends.”
You feel your face heat up. “That’s what makes it weird, genius.”
“It’s like, no strings attached,” he says desperately. “Come on, Y/N, what else are friends for?”
“Your definition of friend is a lot different from mine,” you say, licking your lips nervously. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about it. Steve’s handsome, no denying. But do you really want to have shitty sex?
“I’ll give you all the credit,” he pleas. “Everyone will remember you as the girl who taught me what the clint is.”
You’re curious as to how bad he can be – and maybe it can be cathartic for you. You like helping people. This is just… a bit more help than usual.
“We do it, you don’t tell anyone,” you say. “None of our friends can know.”
“Yeah, yeah!” he says. “That’s fine.”
“But when you start hooking up again, I want the credit.”
“Done, it’s done!”
You sigh heavily, nerves bustling. You get up off your knees and sit beside him. You turn slightly to face him. He looks a bit too excited, and you scoff. “Alright, buddy, I’m teaching you female anatomy, this is strictly professional.”
“Professional, yeah,” he says. “I can be that.”
You sigh again. “Okay. How do you usually start your sexual endeavors?”
He stills, brows furrowed. “Do I tell you or show you?”
“Oh, right,” you say nervously. “I guess you show me.”
He picks up on your nervousness and grins smugly. “This is strictly professional.”
“Shut up,” you hiss. “Just lead me, okay? I’ll stop you when I have critiques or tips.”
“Alright,” he says, and he suddenly grabs you. He pulls you to him, lips on yours.
Your first observation – he’s a good kisser. His lips are soft, and they move purposefully. Honestly, it knocks your breath out of your lungs. Steve’s hands run along your sides gently before resting on your hips, pulling you even closer. His tongue dips out and he licks your bottom lip, so you open. His tongue delves into your mouth, running against yours, and you’re feeling a little too dizzy and a little too hot. His hand rests at the hem of your shirt for a moment before it slides up. His large hand cups your breast and you can’t help but moan, then groan at the smug smile you feel against your lips.
“You’re a good kisser,” you say, pulling away.
“At least I have that goin’ for me, huh?”
You know he notices your red cheeks, but you hope he doesn’t say anything. His hand rests still on your breast and he looks at you eagerly, awaiting instruction.
“Um,” you continue. “Keep going.”
And he does. He lays you down onto your back and goes for your neck next, his lips leaving wet kisses on it. He sucks and bites gently, nearly perfectly. You’re blissed out, holding back your moans because you don’t want to stroke his ego too soon. But then his hands are going towards your pants, and you gasp.
“Woah, buddy,” you say, and he freezes, looking up at you in confusion.
“What?”
“You’re moving too fast,” you say, breathless. “Don’t you work from like, the top down?”
His brows furrow heavily. “No?”
Your brows furrow in response. “You just go for it?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You moron,” you say, sitting up. He opens his mouth to protest, but you throw your shirt off – no bra, as you’d just been lounging. Steve’s mouth drops and his eyes widen, and he’s harder than he’s ever been in a matter of seconds. Your eyes go down to his strained pants and you roll your eyes. “Alright, buddy – it’s just boobs.”
“What do I do?” he asks eagerly as you lay back down.
“Just – come here,” you say, and he does, propping himself up on his elbows. You clear your throat. “Okay, you’re good at using your tongue – at least on the face. So just – use it on – on the nipples.”
He cocks his head but leans down, kissing from your neck down to your chest, tongue occasionally darting out. He gets to one breast and looks up at you uncertainly. You nod in encouragement and he takes your nipple into his mouth. You suck in a sharp breath as he rolls his tongue on it, and then suck in another when he bites it a bit too hard.
“Okay, it’s not a jawbreaker,” you say, laughing. “Gentle.”
For whatever reason, Steve is even more turned on by the directions. It’s been a long time since he’s worshipped a body, and he’s content that it’s yours. His friend. Nothing else. Just his buddy, his pal, his bestie. He smooths his tongue over it and tries again, gentler this time, and it makes you squirm.
“Like that,” you affirm. “Keep practicing.”
Steve runs his lips over your chest, giving you goosebumps, and he does the same gentle treatment to the other breast. One hand comes up and cups your other breast and you nod to tell him you like it. Steve, honestly, is about to lose it, but he makes an effort to focus on how you feel in his mouth instead of how his jeans feel on his dick.
“Okay,” you say eventually, propping yourself up. “Now what, Steve?”
He looks lost. “Um – I keep going down, right?”
“Yes,” you say. “You – literally – keep going down. Have you ever eaten a girl out before?”
He crinkles his nose and you laugh in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“Well apparently it’s a good thing, since I don’t know what the – Klimt is –“
“Klimt is a painter,” you sigh. “It’s the clit.”
“What’s that stand for?”
“It’s short for clitoris.”
He furrows his brows and looks down at your waistband. You smile. “Strip me, bud.”
Steve takes your pants off slowly – at least he has that part down. He goes to take off your underwear, straining against himself, but you sit up.
“Wait, wait,” you rush. “Take off your clothes now, too.”
He does as he is told – and he makes it dramatic, of course. Shirt coming off slowly, then slowly unbuttoning himself, unzipping extra slow.
“Steve, you don’t have to go that slow,” you say.
“I’m doing it for you!”
“I didn’t ask for a strip tease.”
He rolls his eyes but takes his jeans off. You see how hard he is through his boxers and your mouth automatically waters, but you look back up at his face, pushing the lust down. “You’re that hard already?”
“It’s been a while,” he admits sheepishly. “Boxers on or off?”
“On.” You lick your lips again. “It can cause some nice friction for you, and it makes the reveal a bit nicer.”
He nods and comes back to you on the couch. He looks at you with a cocked head, waiting for instruction. You’re nervous – he hadn’t touched you there yet, so you’re going from second to third base, and you’re doing it with your friend.
“Alright,” you say. “Um – so – you want to start by like, teasing.”
He smirks stupidly. “I don’t think this color of underwear looks good on you.”
“Tease the skin, you moron!”
“I know! Just trying to have some fun, Jesus.”
He scoots himself down, long legs hanging off of the arm rest at the end. It’s probably comical, but the moment his lips start kissing down your torso, you forget the imagery. His lips graze the waistband of your underwear and he stops for a moment before kissing back up.
You sigh a bit. “That’s it, just tease.”
He kisses down over the fabric and your breath hitches. He kisses down your thighs, almost the whole way off the couch. He sighs, irritated, and looks up at you. “Can’t we do this in a bed?”
“No, that’s vanilla,” you explain.
He rolls his eyes. “I am not vanilla.”
“Buddy, if you don’t know what the clit is, you’re definitely vanilla.”
He huffs but you relent. “Alright, we will go to my bedroom. But don’t think this means anything.”
The intimacy of being in your bed does mean something, but you won’t admit it.
When you get to your room, Steve shuts the door before gently pushing you against it, his hands flying over your bare skin. He bites your bottom lip and you gasp, which allows him to snake his tongue inside one more time.
“What are you doing?” you ask against his lips, then add, “I’m not complaining.”
“New room, new moves,” he mumbles, his hands flying up to your breasts. He rolls your nipples in his fingers and you melt into him – this was good.
“As nice as this is,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “I need to teach you about the clit.”
He nods and you go to your bed, propping yourself up on the pillows. Steve settles between your legs again. You feel embarrassed by how wet you are, but you decide to let him know anyway. “Don’t let this go to your head – you’re really good with your tongue and hands. Can you see how wet I am?”
He looks down at your underwear and groans, nodding enthusiastically. Smirking, he adds, “Is this all from me?”
“I said, don’t let it go to your head,” you respond. You look down at him and bite your lip – Steve thinks it might be the hottest thing he ever saw – his friend, biting her lip, looking down at him with hooded eyes.
“Keep teasing?” he asks.
You sigh and timidly say, “You don’t have to just use lips and fingers, you know.”
He looks up at you in confusion. “You mean – my dick?”
“No.” You shift uncomfortably and finally say, “Your nose.”
“My nose?”
“Yeah, like, you can press it against the fabric –“
Steve tries it before you finish your thought, making you moan. It’s kind of sinful, which makes Steve harden in his boxers even more.
“Like that,” you say, strained. “And when the cloth comes off – you can use it when you – um – eat a girl … out.”
His fingers slip into the band of your underwear. “Can I take them off?”
“Good, you’re asking,” you say. “Yes, you can, and make sure you always ask a girl what she wants.”
He smiles smugly. “What do you want, Y/N?”
You roll your eyes, but the question is undeniably a turn on. “I want you to eat me out.” You pause. “Well, actually, I want you to learn what the fuck a clit is first.”
Steve takes your underwear off and gasps slightly. He has never been face to face with one of these before, and it’s very hot. He stares, mouth agape, and you can’t help but blush.
“Like what you see?” you ask.
“Hell yeah,” he breathes.
There’s an awkward silence where you don’t want to unpack what just happened. Then you clear your throat. “So, um, the clit is like, a nub towards the top.”
Steve nods, fingers going to part your folds, making you shiver.
“A nub?” he clarifies. “Is it this?” His finger brushes over it and you gasp before nodding vigorously.
“Yeah, right there, that,” you stutter. “That little thing is how you make a girl cum.”
Curiously, he presses on it – hard. You jump back and laugh. “For fucks sake, Steve, it’s not a button on a remote. It’s very sensitive, so you have to be gentle.”
“Sorry,” he says quietly, then uses his finger to slowly rub it.
“Circles,” you say, voice straining, and he changes his pace to draw slow circles on it.
You nod. “Yeah, right – oh my god.”
Steve dives in without warning, tongue circling over it gently. He moans into you, hips grinding into your mattress. He thinks you taste good; he thinks you feel good against his tongue. Your hips bucking up into him is a plus, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still.
“G-good,” you stutter. “Good, Steve.”
He’s not completely hopeless – he learned what the clit is and he’s doing a damn good job at giving it attention. Steve inclines his head to go into you deeper, and you gasp at feeling his tongue right at your entrance. Steve’s going crazy over listening to your whines and moans and he goes a bit harder.
“Uh,” you say as he continues, pushing down the moans in your throat. “If a girl is – fuck – about to cum from this – you don’t – shit, Steve – you don’t like – go harder, okay?”
He nods and hums, making your hips buck again. You add, “You can suck on it, too.”
Steve hums again and his soft lips go back up to your clit, wrapping around it and giving it a small suck. A needy whine leaves your lips and he sucks again, tongue lapping as he does it. He thinks it’s cool how it all connects – the clit is like a nipple for the pussy. He wouldn’t say that out loud, of course – he just thinks it’s neat.
“You’re so wet,” he observes. You moan at the observation and hate that you can feel him smile into you. His tongue continues lapping and a sheen of sweat covers your body.
“You can use fingers,” you say. He gingerly adds one, making you gasp then groan. Your hips roll on his finger and he has to stop for a moment to gather himself before he literally creams his pants.
“Are you good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you breathe, pupils blown. “You’re a quick learner.”
“Keep going?”
“Keep going.”
Steve starts to pump now, going in knuckle deep. His head stays away for a moment, groaning as he looks at your pussy swallow his finger, grinding into the bed again as a strangled moan comes out of him. Then his lips are back on you, sucking and licking as he fucks his finger in and out of you. You’re totally blissed out – if he keeps this up, you’re going to come undone.
“Steve,” you moan. “So good, buddy – add another finger.”
He does as he is told, and you are completely lost in the feeling. Your hand reaches up to play with your nipples and Steve’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head at the sight. He curls his fingers and you cry out. At your encouragement, he continues to stroke, fingers curled and tongue swirling around your clit.
“Talk dirty,” you instruct.
Steve knows he’s good at this; his vernacular is what got him girls in the first place. “Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, fuck.”
You moan out an “oh”, and Steve thinks it’s maybe the hottest sound ever. “Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?”
“Steve,” you gasp, and he grins smugly again. He starts to pick up the pace but then remembers what you said and slows down again.
“I’m close,” you groan.
His pace stutters and his eyes shine. “Are you serious? Are you going to? For real?”
“Yes,” you cry out. “Watch me while I do it, okay?”
Steve attaches his lips to your clit again and you nearly shout. His eyes are on your face the whole time, soaking in how your hands can’t find something to hold on to, eventually settling on his hair. Your fingers lacing in it spurs him on and he curls his fingers just right, tongue lapping gently, and you feel the build in your lower stomach.
“So good, Steve,” you moan. “So good – you’re doing so –“ you choke on a moan. “So great!”
You climax quickly, hips arching off the bed as you do so. Steve tries to hold you down on the bed, but in vain; you’re nearly levitating off of the bed from how good it feels. It’s mind blowing, maybe the best climax you had with a partner. Steve nearly comes from the sight. He has the epiphany that making a girl feel good, seeing her squirm under him, hearing her actually climax – it’s the hottest thing in the world.
Steve pulls his fingers out of you and you twitch from the feeling, panting, wiping sweat off your brow. He sits up and grins cockily at you. But you know he’s close, too, from the large stain on his boxers. It makes your mouth water until you realize there’s probably a stain on the bed, which is exactly why you didn’t invite him up in the first place.
You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips, though. “Needy, huh?”
His mouth is on yours in the next instant and you taste yourself on his tongue. You groan into him but push him away slightly. “You do use condoms, right?”
“I already take care of six kids, I’m not trying to become a dad,” he scoffs.
“Condoms are in the nightstand,” you say, head nodding over to the side.
He frowns. “You have condoms?”
You look at him in confusion. “Yeah?”
Steve swallows the jealously he feels, a little saddened at the fact that you’ve had sex more than he has, and with someone else, too. You suddenly jerk and he furrows his brows.
“Aftershocks,” you explain. “My legs are shaking, too.”
“Aftershocks?” he repeats.
You frown. “Have you never had aftershocks?”
Steve shakes his head and you laugh. “I’m about to blow your mind, Steve Harrington.”
That’s all the convincing he needs. He reaches over and grabs the box from your drawer, fumbling with one and rolling it on. You are impressed with his length and width – those weren’t rumors the girls made up, at least. He hisses at the contact of just his own hand, and you realize there’s no way you’re going to cum again tonight. You’re fine with it, but you’re also very excited to see his face when he orgasms within a minute.
Actually, you wish you could bet money on those odds, but Robin’s not here, thank God.
“Are you sure?” he asks. You think it’s sweet that he asks you what you want.
“Put it in me, baby,” you joke, trying to laugh off your nerves.
He takes a deep breath and lines up with you. His eyes meet yours and you nod. He slides in slowly, slowly, and then he bottoms out in you. He gasps slightly and you can see the effort on his face, him trying desperately not to cum. You grind your hips into him, grinning, and he starts to thrust. He reaches you in ways you haven’t felt before, filling you up more than anyone else. It kind of pisses you off, because you never thought Steve Harrington, hopeless fuck, would ever be able to give you such good sex. He rolls his hips back, pulling himself almost completely out before pushing in again. You groan and your stomach flips.
Steve continues for a few thrusts, and you smile wickedly up at him. He falters for a second before you clench your muscles around him – and then he’s coming, hips bucking into yours as he buries his face into your neck. He groans loudly, and it’s actually very hot, and you wish you could hear more of those noises come out of him.
He eventually pulls back and his cheeks are flaming. A look of shame crosses his face and you start to laugh. It’s lighthearted, more with him than at him, and he’s confused before he starts to laugh too. You both laugh until you’re breathless, with him still inside of you, and tears start to run down your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath.
“Guess I need some work, huh?” he asks once you both calm down. He slips out of you and you groan involuntarily, upset at the loss of contact. He disposes the condom and looks back at you. His breath hitches – you still look beautiful even when you aren’t writhing beneath him, and it takes him aback. But he remembers that you’re his friend and he pulls his eyes away.
“You did good,” you reply. “You did really good. You made a girl come tonight, buddy. You should be proud.”
Steve nods, running a hand through his hair. “That was, um. That was … really hot.”
“Turns out it’s nice to make someone else feel good, huh?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. He goes to grab his boxers but crinkles his nose when he sees the stain on them.
“Gonna have to go commando,” you remark, grabbing a robe and throwing it on. “You’ll be okay, maybe the friction will feel good.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t –“
“I guess you’ll have to come back for another lesson, huh?” you say, smiling. “We should probably perfect the actual sex part and get you some practice.”
Both of your hearts skip a beat at the suggestion, and you pull your eyes away from his, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know – if you want.”
“Yes,” he says, a little too quickly. He blushes and looks away. “I mean – yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
“Alright.” You smile at him again. “Now get out of my house.”
===
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Arranged
Thor x Reader
Summary: You knew your parents had arranged a marriage for you, but you didn’t know your husband would be so pleasant.
Warnings: loss of virginity, Thor’s big 🐓
The entirety of your interactions with him had been minimal. Demure glances across the room at dinner the night before your wedding. At a formal and proper greeting of your family. The first time you saw him up close was at the altar. The first thing you noticed was the look of curiosity in his eyes as he took in your appearance. You were covered quite literally up to your eyes, as was the wedding tradition where you came from. Thor had no idea what you looked like aside from a vague outline of your body in your clothes.
But you knew what he looked like. Gods, you knew what he looked like. Soft light hair gently brushing broad shoulders. Long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked. His eyes caught yours and you were startled in embarrassment before looking back to the ground. A deep rumble in his chest had you closing in on yourself. Was he laughing at you? Or just at your behavior?
On the whole he seemed like a jovial man. Kind even. That was all you could hope for in a husband. In time you hoped you would grow to like him, or at the very least tolerate him well enough to have his children, much like your own parents. When the vows were said, you tried not to flinch as his hands caressed your face. He gently pulled your veil from around you, letting it fall to your back. When your face was revealed, he smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Even the brief contact filled you with warmth.
The guests in attendance cheered and hollered, startling you even further. Were Asgardians always this loud? Brief eye contact with your parents showed their disapproving gaze on you. Your father’s mouth was pressed into a hard line while your mother gestured for you to smile. You complied immediately and their expressions grew less severe.
Thor quite literally swept you off your feet, drawing a little gasp from you. His arms held you securely under your legs and at your back as he cradled you. Your arms instinctively went around his neck for support as he marched out of the room. The crowd followed to a large hall where your reception was prepared. Servants bustled about as more guests trickled in, serving ale and wine in unimaginable quantities. Thor took you to a slightly elevated table at the head of the room and deposited you in the chair next to his own.
The plate in front of you was immediately filled with food and your glass with wine. Thor’s own plate was filled while his mug was nearly overflown with ale. He took a long sip while you made no move to touch your plate. You were too nervous to eat, instead counting the stringed instruments an interesting assortment of bards were carrying in. Your stupor was broken as Thor called your name.
“You like music?” he asked. His tone was light and sweet like the drip of golden honey.
“Yes, my lord. I play several instruments.”
“Oh? They did tell me you could sing the most beautiful melodies.”
“I was no good at weaving so I had to learn to do something well.”
“No good at weaving? Well that makes two of us.”
You surprised yourself, letting out a laugh at his commentary. Your smile was short lived as you saw your parents approaching the table. They greeted Thor first in respect and then turned to you.
“You look fine,” your mother commented, “you’ve made a well enough bride.”
“Not without the help of countless maids and a dress more expensive than she is,” your father cut in, before looking at your plate. “Do remember to eat up. Make use of those childbearing hips.”
“Yes, father.” You nodded and kept your head down.
They shot you one last glance before giving a farewell to Thor and walking off. You started to pick at your plate, almost angrily spearing a vegetable on your fork.
“Do they always speak to you in that manner?” Thor asked, his voice low and humming with another emotion you couldn't quite identify. You nodded.
“They are my parents,” you justified. Thor let out a huff of breath.
“And you are my wife and soon to be queen of Asgard. If they speak to you like that again, feel no need to hold your tongue, especially not in my presence.”
The thought of speaking back to your parents was abhorrent to you. Something you had never considered. But you nodded anyway.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You can call me Thor. In fact I have to insist.”
“Yes, Thor.”
The rest of the reception was enjoyable. Your parents refrained from making another appearance. The music was upbeat and happy. And Thor was so nice.
Even with your mind slightly hazy from the wine, you found yourself drawn to him. He asked questions about you and about things you liked. In turn you asked him about himself and he gave you unbelievable stories from other realms along with nice anecdotes from his childhood. Something about him was bright and jovial. You would envy the energy he gave off if you weren’t there to receive it.
As the night came closer to its end, guests began to steadily trickle out. One of your ladies came to collect you and get you ready for the night. Thor let you go with a kiss to your brow and a promise that he would see you soon. You were pulled quickly to your chambers where a group of women awaited you.
The women undressed you and pulled you into a hot bath. They spent the time scrubbing your skin raw and rubbing oils onto you. Your hair was thoroughly washed and scented with sweet perfumes. As one of them dried your hair, the others began dressing you. An ornate nightgown, silk in texture with the neckline so scandalously low you sought to cover yourself even in the presence of women who had just seen you naked. It was all so new and moving so fast, your mind couldn’t keep up.
By the time they were done, every inch of you was soft, supple, and floral smelling. Ready to be bedded for the first time. Your nervousness about losing your maidenhood had been persistent for weeks. You had heard plenty of tales of how bad it could be. Your husband would take you as he pleased and you’d have to work through the pain. It was just the way things were done.
The women brought you to another room. When you asked where you were, they said these were Thor’s chambers and he was inside waiting for you. Sensing your hesitation, one of the ladies gave you a gentle pat on the arm and a smile. It didn’t do much to soothe you but you carried on through the door which they shut firmly behind you.
You made your way into the bedroom and your breath caught in your chest as you spotted him. He was on the bed, barely dressed. His top half was bare and his lower half was covered with a light pair of trousers. At the sight of you, he hopped off of the bed and strode toward you wearing a lazy smile.
The sight of him was magnificent. Everything about him seemed so large and capable. The ideal specimen of a man. He stopped halfway on the path to you and held out his hand. Your eyes were drawn to the shapely muscles on his extended arm.
“Come here, sweet girl,” he beckoned you over. You flitted over in a daze to dutifully take his hand. His other hand held your face below your chin.
“Are you ready to consummate our marriage?”
You saw his eyes dip briefly to your cleavage and you stared at the floor.
“Yes, my lord. My body is yours.”
“I’ve told you to call me by my name, dove. I can feel your hands shake. I understand you’ve had a long day. If you are nervous, you can lay in my bed tonight and we can consummate tomorrow.”
You were shocked at the offer. Although kind, it was unnecessary. Now was as good a time as any.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m just—I would like to do this tonight.
His eyes fell to your breasts again.
“Can I undress you?” he asked. You nodded, shaking a bit. Thor pressed a kiss to your hand and continued to kiss up your arm and to your shoulder. He stopped to press another kiss below your ear before reaching down to the hem of your gown.
The whole time you stood stock still, trying not to shake in your nervousness. Thor pulled your gown off quickly, leaving you naked and exposed in front of him. He took a look at your body and let out a contented little sigh.
“You are beautiful.” To your surprise, he picked you up and carried you to the bed with long strides. When he set you down, you immediately laid back and spread your legs like your mother told you to. You weren’t entirely sure what would come next, but you knew what your role in it would be.
You were here to give heirs to your king, forge an alliance between kingdoms and create a legacy your parents would be proud of. There were girls far less lucky than you in much worse circumstances so you tried to calm yourself with the thought that things could absolutely be much worse. Besides, you were meant to be queen. A queen couldn’t be shaking with fear every time her husband tried to bed her.
Thor ran his hands gently up your thighs.
“I know you’re nervous. You have my word I will not hurt you.”
You blinked and stalled when thinking of something to say in reply. Instead your eyes were drawn to how he was laid between your legs, still with his trousers on.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” you questioned with a tilt of your head. He smiled and pulled your legs over his shoulders.
“Soon.”
He ducked his head down and licked you. Your eyes shot open in alarm. All you could do was lay back, mortified. You had heard of things like this but to have it done to you was something different. He continued pressing soft licks to your clit before eventually using the broader area of his tongue to swipe over you. Your thighs almost clamped around his head but he held them open with strong arms.
Your embarrassment began to melt away slowly. A warm feeling of arousal pooled in your belly. Moans and gasps left your mouth at the feelings he stirred in you. You moved your hips against his face and he let you grind against his tongue.
A stacking pressure accumulated in your lower abdomen. A tense string inside you about to break. The unknown feeling filled you once more with nervousness. Your thighs trembled around his head and you tried to push away from him. Thor pulled you even closer than before and latched onto you, sucking hard.
The mounting fear in you subsided and devolved into screaming pleasure. Your body was wracked with the sweetest tremors while he pushed you through the sensation. You laid limp and panting before him when he was done. The noises he managed to get out of you had you hiding your face in your hands.
You knew you shouldn’t feel embarrassment at being exposed and vulnerable with your husband but you couldn’t help it. Everyone had told you the whole affair would hurt and your best strategy would be to lay still while he used you. Your mother said everything would hurt and there would be blood, but you were wet and it certainly wasn’t from blood. This was something so different. Something you weren’t prepared for. Thor was making you feel very good.
Your arousal dripped onto the sheets and Thor’s face was covered in it as he looked up at you. His lips curved into a smile as he took in your debauched figure.
“Do you want me to do it again?”
And you were lost, trapped in a manic lust for him, begging him to touch you again. Begging for his mouth on you. Thor looked intrigued by your begging and a lewd smiled graced his face. Voracious want was present in his eyes while he lowered his mouth back to your most sensitive parts.
Your back arched in pleasure from the sudden sensation, still barely off of the high from your previous orgasm. Thor held your thighs steady, pressing a heavy tongue into you and biting your lower lips gently. His mouth covered your clit, breathing softly before latching on again. In efforts not to scream, you covered your mouth with your hand. Thor looked up at you from his position between your thighs and moved to pull your hand away.
The pulsing heat between your legs was too much to bear. The noises he pulled from you were loud and undignified but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. All you wanted was him touching you. He pressed a finger at your entrance and slowly pushed in, letting you adjust to the feeling.
It was amazing.
You spent time hovering just on the edge of another orgasm, deliriously begging him for more more more. He pushed another thick finger in you and you cried out in ecstasy. With his mouth on you and his fingers quickly going in and out of you, you could hear how wet you were. Finally he pushed a third finger inside of you. There was a burning sensation as he scissored his fingers inside you, but it was soon replaced with much better feelings.
The tension inside of you broke again, leaving you writhing and screaming in pleasure. They could probably hear you halfway across the palace but you didn’t care. Thor took his time before he let up. Making sure to draw out every bit of pleasure he could from you. By the time he pulled away, you were hardly able to move your legs.
Thor stood up from the bed and your eyes followed.
He began to undo his pants and you watched as he undressed. You bit your lip as he was revealed to you. His member was thick and curved, leaving you desperate to see what else he could do. Thor climbed over you, slotting himself between your legs and putting his lips to yours. The air was hot and sensual as he pressed his tongue to your lips and you granted him entry. Your mouths molded together in an intimate kiss.
Your lips fell open in a gasp as Thor pushed into you. Although he had given you a taste with his fingers, there was still just so much of him. The two of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out inside you and held himself there.
“P-Please move,” you begged him. He looked down to see your eyes black with lust, mirroring his own. With a groan he pulled back and slammed into you again. Then again. And again.
Your thoughts were hardly coherent. All you could think about was him and how he was making you feel. He thrust into you, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. Pushing you further into madness as you kept trying to get closer to him.
Without a thought, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips against him. He followed your lead, slamming into you at just the angle you needed. You didn’t know where to put your hands, alternating between squeezing the sheets between your fingers and taking your nails down his back.
The bed shook with the force of his thrusts. His hand reached out to latch onto the headboard and he went at you even harder. Your back arched off the bed and you pled with him for more, more, more. Every time he pushed inside you, his skin brushed against your clit perfectly.
Thor pressed kisses along your neck, moaning his own pleasure into your skin. His body was hot against yours while he groaned your name in a way that made your legs shake.
His touch pushed you into delirium, a frenzied euphoria you’d never encountered before. Absolutely filled with him and you body had a sense of completion. Like this was how you were meant to be. In raptures of paradise while he claimed you. You’d surrender to him forever if it always felt this good.
Your orgasm made your whole body jolt, your back arching your chest closer to him and your hips pushing against him in desperation. His name left your mouth in light gasps which turned to screams when he didn’t let up, chasing his own orgasm. When he came, he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, staying there while his seed filled you. Your legs twitched from aftershocks of pleasure at the feeling of him dripping out of you.
Thor pulled out of you, which left you feeling strangely empty. You recovered when he pulled you to lay on his chest and held you in his arms, engulfing you in his warmth.
Out of all the things you expected for tonight, this was not it. But if this is what your married life would look like, you were sure you’d be alright.
....
Author’s Note: Someone contact the authorities — a man called Thor STOLE my HEART 🤳🏼👮🏽♂️🚨🏃🏼♂️♥️
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The Tower: Family - 10
The Tower: Family
An Avengers Fanfic
Series Masterlist
PREVIOUS //
Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)
Word Count: 2204
Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse, smut (mmf, bisexual threeway, oral sex, breast fucking, double vaginal penetration)
Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.
Chapter 10: Distraction Techniques
When Bucky and I got home I was a whole mess of emotions I didn’t want to feel. We hadn’t agreed on seeing my parents - I wanted to talk to everyone about that before I said yes - but I knew I was going to. Right now, I didn’t even want to think about it. I was angry and hurt and I wanted to cry but it was also the absolute last thing I wanted to do.
Bucky let the dogs off their leads as I took stock of where everyone was. Natasha and Wanda had taken the kids to the park, Steve was in the offices downstairs, while Sam and Thor were at the compound, Tony and Bruce were in the lab, and Clint was watching TV around the corner. The dogs trotted over to their water bowls and began to drink and I went straight to the staircase.
“El,” Bucky said, following after me. “Wait.”
I didn’t listen and started making my way upstairs. Clint looked up and watched as I practically stormed up the steps, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bucky gestured to him to follow and the archer scrambled up off the couch and followed after us.
“El, darlin’, speak to me,” Bucky said as I went into the bedroom and kicked my shoes off.
I threw myself on the bed and pulled a pillow to my face and just screamed into it. Clint looked between Bucky and me, still with no clue what was happening at all. “What happened? What’s wrong, Elly?”
When I didn’t answer, Bucky moved to the bed and began to rub my back. “We had a run-in with her sister.”
Clint stiffened up and balled his hands into fists. “What did she do?”
“Nothing violent,” Bucky said. “She’d been sent by El’s parents. They want to see her.”
“Oh,” Clint said and sat down on the edge of the bed. He began to rub my thigh absentmindedly as he processed the information. “What was she like?”
“One of those uptight, judgy women,” Bucky said. “Had a few digs at me and us in general.”
“A Karen,” Clint said with a nod. “What do they want? Money?”
“I assume so, but there was talk about the kids too,” Bucky said. “Who knows, maybe they do just want to make amends, but going off Amanda’s behavior, there’s something else going on.”
“Fuck,” Clint cursed. He lay down next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, putting his weight on me, like he was acting as my blanket. “El,” he whispered. “What you want to do and what you need to do don’t have to be the same thing. And it's not wrong to want to do the thing you think is the bad choice.”
I rolled over and hid in his chest and he wrapped his arms around me and held me close.
“I know, princess,” he whispered. “I know. My family sucked too.”
“What would you do?” I mumbled against his skin.
“Sorry, hon,” Clint said. “I missed that.”
I pulled back and looked up at him. “What would you do?” I repeated.
He cradled my jaw and caressed my cheek with his thumb and shook his head. “Well,” he said. “When my brother kept coming back into my life, I kept letting him, even when he tried to kill me multiple times and stole a shit ton of money off me.”
“Oh,” I frowned.
“Is that the brother we named Pietro after?” Bucky asked.
“Yeah,” Clint said. “I loved him. He was my brother. When we were kids he protected me from being beaten by my foster parents and he taught me to get up when my dad hit me before that. He went down a shit path, but he was my family and I wanted him in my life. I wanted us to be brothers even when he was anything but.”
I took a deep breath and Bucky moved in behind me, spooning me. I tried to relax in his arms, but I felt like I was just a huge ball of pent up energy. “You think I should do it?” I asked.
Bucky stiffened against my back, and his metal fingers flexed on my hip. Clint shook his head. “That’s not what I said,” Clint answered. “This is your choice. I think you should be careful. I don’t think you should take the kids to see them. At least not until you’re sure. But if you want to open the lines of communication so you can get your biological family back in your life, or even if you want to confront them and tell them to go fuck themselves, then that’s your choice. We’ll be there to support it though.”
I started crying and pressed my face into his chest again, my tears soaking through his t-shirt. Both Bucky and Clint held, me rubbing my back and arms soothingly as they pressed their lips to my head and neck. “It’s alright. We’ve got you,” Bucky whispered.
I didn’t want to think about the family that had hurt me and rejected me anymore. I didn’t want to feel these feelings. I didn’t want to feel anything. I leaned up and kissed Clint hard, crashing my mouth to his and pushing him back into the mattress.
He startled and pushed me back. “El, honey,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“Please,” I begged. “I don’t want to feel this way. Please make me feel something else. Anything else.”
Clint looked at Bucky. Bucky didn’t react for a moment other than to continue rubbing my back. I took a shuddering breath in and tried to hold back the tears that were trying to break again. Bucky huffed and nodded. “Whatever you need, doll,” he said and guided me back into a deep and loving kiss.
Clint began to kiss my neck and he slid his hands up under my shirt, running his fingers over my stomach. I tugged on his t-shirt and moaned gently into Bucky’s lips.
Bucky pulled back and lifted my shirt off over my head and then did the same to Clint. “Things moving too slow for you, Buck?” Clint teased.
“Shh…” Bucky hushed. “Enough from you.” He leaned in and kissed Clint, making the archer laugh into Bucky’s lips.
I unfastened Clint’s jeans and worked them down as Bucky worked his own pants down. I was already starting to forget all about my siblings and parents. I was just here with two of the men I was in love with.
Clint pulled back and got up on his knees, before flipping me on my back. He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down, almost bringing me with them and making me squeal. “Let’s get this party started properly, hey?” He teased.
He pulled my panties down as Bucky unhooked my bra. I giggled under them as they frantically stripped me. It wasn’t in any way sexy or coordinated. Bucky spent a long time trying to get my bra unhooked and Clint kept jostling me around. Despite how ridiculous they both were, I was still completely turned on. By the time Clint had ducked his head down between my legs and begun lapping his way up my folds, I was already dripping wet.
Bucky pushed off his boxers and straddled my chest. He pushed my breasts together and pushed his cock between them. I groaned and leaned down, licking the head of his cock.
Bucky hummed and rolled his hips. “You wanna suck my cock, don’t ya?”
I moaned as Clint began to suck on my clit, pulling it between his lips and flicking his tongue over it. “Yes, Bucky.”
He squeezed my breasts and tugged on my nipples making me mewl and arch my back. “Too bad. I’m fucking your gorgeous tits first.”
“Please, Bucky,” I pleaded. He shook his head and started thrusting faster between my tits, massaging them as he did. A sticky trail of precum leaked over my skin and I leaned in and licked some off the head of his cock. Clint eased two fingers into my cunt and began to stroke them over my internal walls, seeking out my g-spot.
“Bucky,” I whined. “Please.”
Bucky chuckled and climbed off me. He traced the head of his cock over my lips and I opened wide, letting him guide it inside. I sucked his cock hungrily as Clint sucked my clit and fucked me with his fingers. My head became fuzzy, but I focused on the strong salty taste of the precome leaking on my tongue. Clint began to work his fingers over my g-spot again and again, curling his fingers like he was beckoning an orgasm forth. My legs trembled and I bucked up under him. Bucky tangled his hands in my hair and began to thrust into my mouth. I submitted to them both and when I did, my orgasm crashed down on me and I came hard, my cry muffled by Bucky’s cock.
Clint sat up as Bucky pulled back. I released his cock with a soft pop and watched as Bucky pulled Clint into a hungry kiss. I ran my hands up and down their thighs as they kissed and when Clint finally pulled back he looked down at me with lust-blown eyes.
“How do you want us, princess?” Clint asked.
I looked both men up and down and bit my bottom lip. “I want you both inside me at the same time.”
“I’m on the bottom!” Clint said, quickly flopping onto his back.
I started laughing and I could see Bucky trying not to. He pinched Clint’s hip playfully as I climbed on top of him. “You are such a lazy shit.”
“So you say, but I keep up with the Avengers and the only superpower I have is understanding different languages. Can you say that?” Clint teased.
I began to rock my hips up and down on Clint’s lap, grinding on his cock. “God you’re hopeless,” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the lube from the bedside cabinet. He started by slicking Clint’s cock with it first, making Clint groan loudly and bucking up into me. I lowered myself down on his cock with a soft moan as Bucky lubed his own cock.
“Come here,” Clint said, pulling me down against him and kissing me deeply. I could taste myself on his lips and I flicked my tongue over them, savoring the tart flavor.
Bucky moved behind me, placing his hand in the middle of my back and lining his cock up. I hummed, rolling my hips and moving back against him so the head of his cock pressed against my entrance. There was a groan from Clint that got louder as Bucky slowly sunk in. He took his time, letting me adjust as my cunt stretched and burned as they both filled me. When he was seated fully inside me he caressed my back gently, the cool metal of his hand making me break out in goosebumps. “Let me know,” he said, softly.
I hummed softly, getting used to the size of both of them inside me and I broke the kiss with Clint. “Ready.”
Bucky grabbed my hips and started to fuck me slowly. Clint snapped his hips up into me, countering Bucky’s movements, so as Bucky pulled out, Clint pushed in. I moaned loudly, clenching around them both. I sat up and leaned my head back. Bucky began to kiss me, and Clint pushed himself up on his elbows and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth.
“Fuck,” I gasped, breaking the kiss as a current seemed to run straight from my breast to my cunt. Bucky put his hand on my throat and sucked on the side of my neck as he picked up his pace. I came apart between them, helpless as they held me in place as they began to pound into me. Bucky captured my lips again, kissing me hungrily as he thrust hard and fast inside me. Clint matched Bucky’s pace, groaning into my skin as he moved from one breast to the next. There was fire in my veins and I trembled as my orgasm began to bear down on me.
I bunched my hands in Clint’s hair and with a muffled moan, I came around both their cocks. Clint’s hips stuttered and he jerked and groaned as my orgasm dragged his over too. “Fuck…” he sighed, relaxing back on the mattress as his cock twitched and pulsed with his release.
Bucky pushed me back down against Clint and began to thrust hard into me, holding my hips in place as he rutted hard and fast, chasing his own orgasm. He leaned over me and with a hard thrust he came, his come mixing with Clint’s.
When his cock stilled they both slipped out of me and lay down next to me, wrapping me in their arms. Neither of them said anything, and I was grateful for it. I knew we’d have to talk about my family later with everyone, but for now, I just wanted to lie here with Clint and Bucky and forget any of that had ever happened.
// NEXT
#the avengers#steve rogers#bucky barnes#tony stark#natasha romanoff#bruce banner#clint barton#wanda maximoff#sam wilson#avengers fanfic#avengers x oc#steve rogers x oc#bucky barnes x oc#tony stark x oc#stucky#clintasha#natasha romanoff x oc#wanda maximoff x oc#clint barton x oc#bruce banner x oc#sam wilson x oc#all caps#thor x oc#thor#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#the tower#pregnancy
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Cry Little Sister
(A Jack x Rin Drabble)
Word Count: 1618
Warnings: implied fem recv oral, mention of sexual abuse, abortion, angst
A/N: Even after some time with Jack, Rin Davies still has her secrets.
Rin rolled on her side and gingerly stepped on to the wooden floor. She was nude, but risked freezing to death in the stark cold of her bedroom to sneak to the shower. Her body ventured only a few centimeters before a strong forearm caught her around the waist. She could only squeal.
Rin was yanked back on to the bed where she feigned fighting against what pinned her down. She twisted and giggled, but they overpowered her. He was, despite how he seemed, incredibly strong.
“JACK!!” Rin half-whinged, but only half. The other half desperately tried to hide how bothered she was. The electricity that spread in her veins and arteries and nerves and traveled out to her fingers and toes and between her legs.
“RIN!” Jack mocked her. He bent to place a gentle kiss on her neck. Then her chin. He took his time and pecked and planted his lips all over face, forehead and ears.
“I have a shift in an hour! I need to shower and get my uniform out of the wash.” Each one of her words was punctuated by his kisses. Only a few she reciprocated.
“I keep telling you to quit your job and work with me.”
“You don't shit where you eat, Jack.”
“You keep telling me that. We wouldn't have to work at the same time. I trust you to run the shop alone.” He trailed down between Rin’s breasts and over her stomach. He lifted her back into an arch towards his mouth.
“Jack,” Rin found herself breathless.
There was no longer even water to float on let alone drown in when their bodies touched. It was a warm beach with soft sand like the one she visited with her brother Finch after university. Their only vacation.
Now Jack was like a vacation with an occasional cloud that passed through. And that was it, they only passed through. No bothering. No messages. Just passive specters who gave up eventually for another medium. Rin could sense them too like goose pimples up her spine. She was too worried about breaking Jack to ask if maybe together they could corporealize a ghost.
At this moment, Rin was unshielded. She unwittingly opens herself up like she did her legs as Jack’s tongue found its destination. He teased the outside of her sex with it; his hands held her defiant hips still. Then a memory passed to Jack as his mouth closed on her clit like a jolt.
Just a flash of a dingy waiting room, the smell of cleaning products and antiseptic hung in the air. Rin bolted upright, both from Jack's tongue inside and of the memory. That smell churned her stomach. The sheets gave way to the crinkle of paper and the delayed puff of cushioning on an exam table was the bed. Finch’s large hand clammy in her own as his impossibly blue eyes held her gaze. She was back but couldn't be.
Jack had rolled to lay face up. He held his head in his hands like Rin saw him do when they were sectioned. He started to knock softly at his temples, eyes shut tight. She had triggered him.
“No. No. Why’s it smell like hospital? Why did you do that?!” his voice at a near-bellow. “I don't want to go back. Not to that place when I was a kid. Don't make me go back!”
“Jack. Jack, it's ok! Jack!” Rin shouted over his outburst. She clutched his wrists to pull his fists away, but he resisted.
He was the immovable object to her unstoppable force, but Rin’s bare hands on his skin made Jack recoil from her for the first time. “Stop! Why do you have that in your head?!” His long body curled away from his girlfriend.
“Jack,” Rin spoke softly now. “That's not your memory. That's mine.” She tread with care and kissed his shoulder. Her hands refrained from touching him directly. “I was just so unguarded, that a door opened. I think I've been struggling to have this conversation with you so much, it came out of my subconscious.”
Jack reached behind himself and pulled Rin towards his back. He draped her arm over his body and began to trace the faint scars along the back of her hand. Instinct made Rin bury her face between his shoulder blades where her forehead came to rest. Jack sighed before he turned her hand over and traced the lines on her palm.
“Jack, I can't have kids.”
He was silent. Rin could feel him thinking, processing how to respond. He was so new to everything still, even after two years. Stability. Safety. Sex. Jack learned as he went. He faltered a lot, especially with the concept of Rin being tangible. He couldn't just take a drug or get drunk to make her disappear. Not that they did it much, but when they had a row, it was interesting to say the least.
“Does that upset you?” He kissed her knuckles.
“I think it used to, but I spent so much time with awful men or lost OR sectioned that I accepted maybe I did myself a favor? Not that I think you want them, but it's the first I've thought of it in years.”
“You don't want kids with me, love. Emma’s good, but she still got stuck with one like me.”
“Wouldn't want anymore of those kind, smart men in the world would we?”
“I'm not always kind.” It was matter of fact.
“To yourself.” Rin could sense him roll his eyes now. “I just didn't think someone would actually love me, so I put it off.”
“Rin what do you mean, did it yourself?”
“Do you want me to tell you?” She kissed the back of Jack's neck. “Or show you?”
“I guess it's only fair,” Jack sounded apprehensive.
But Rin didn't respond. She took her hands and placed them on Jack's face like she was covering his eyes with her palms. She relaxed her mind, unlocked it and melted into Jack with her memories.
The two of them sat side by side in a waiting room. The old plastic chairs in gold and rust and red with peeled paint on the walls felt more broken-down Fawlty Towers than a clinic of some kind. Jack's feet stuck to the linoleum floor and he rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. He knew no one could see him, but wished he was in more than boxers.
Rin was young, younger than Jack had ever seen her. He never knew how dark and long her hair was as it hid her face. There was a bruise on her cheek. She cradled her stomach with one hand. The other held tight to a young man not much older. That had to be Finch.
They looked alike, except his eyes were unfathomably blue. Finch, Fin, had dark, straight hair that was a mess. He had his arm around her shoulder and was kissing her head and murmured something. Rin nodded and stared up at him with complete admiration. Then she spoke in Welsh. Welsh? How did Jack not know.
“Are you sure it'll be ok? They can't know Finch. He can't know. He wants Mama and Papa to sell me to him.”
“Like fuck,” Jack yelled. “Christ I thought my mum was bad. Never would've sold me to a paedo.”
“He can't buy you, Wren. You're sixteen. It's legal. I’ll fucking kill them first.”
“Too right you will!” Jack almost cheered.
He couldn't wrap his head around just knowing it was a friend. A family friend who knocked her up. Raped her, Jack was sure, and got her this way. Then it was all flashes. An exam table with stirrups and a nurse with nice eyes but witchy hands. A doctor who was smoking and tried his best. Rin cried and Fin’s lip bled from biting it. Jack looked away. Whoever said women were the fairer sex was a cunt.
“It went wrong after that,” Rin’s voice broke through the memory. “I got an infection in my uterus. They had to remove half of it, but my parents refused more. Punishment for my abortion. So I rebelled. Brilliantly until they fried my hands. I got labeled a nutter pretty quick, and they never spoke to me again. Finch did. He talked me into music and school and it went from there. In and out of psych in spite of it all. I lost Fin, found Roland then he left too. Then I found you, and YOU got lost.”
“Well I'm not lost anymore am I, duck?” Jack's term of affection for her. “I don't care about the baby part. I mean I do if YOU do. I'm just learning how to be human myself, so I'm not too keen on bringing smaller ones into the world right now.”
Jack turned over in Rin’s arms and nudged his nose along hers and face. “I love ya, though. Whatever you want, Aderyn.” He heard the way her brother called her in their native tongue. “But you haven't lost Finch either.”
Rin let her forehead rest on Jack's. “He died years ago.”
Jack rolled his eyes and waved his arm frantically around the room. “Hello! Remember what I'm good at?!”
“Wait, you can see Finch?” Tears spilled uncontrolled down her cheeks. She stuffed her knuckles in her eyes to prevent it.
“Yeah. Creepy looking right? Intense blue eyes, chiseled jaw, kinda wild black hair? Kinda short for a guy? Handsome, just weird.” Jack struggled to describe him accurately. “Why not give me your hands, and see what we can do together.”
So she did.
Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @robertsheehanownsmyass @super-unpredictable98 @nightmonsters @forenschik @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @frogs--are--bitches @slutforrobbiebro @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private
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Hirem doing some Experiments for day 17
(Ao3)
Hiro wondered in how big trouble he'd find himself if Professor Granville found out what he was using the lab and its expensive equipment for. Although "using" was a misnomer too, as he really was a subject in hands of his three ingenious girlfriends...
He had to admit, a white labcoat clashed somewhat with Gogo's hair and her overall demeanour, but it most certainly matched with Honey Lemon's and Karmi's attires, especially as the three women had nothing else underneath to clash with.
With three pairs of hands tending to his clothes, soon the young hero found himself equally naked, as the three brilliant scientists decided to put him through a gauntlet of tests to prove his virility. And though he had faith in his beloved, he knew very well how "creative" can they get behind the bedroom doors.
- Alright, who booked the lab first? - Hiro asked, watching as the three women exchange knowing, sultry looks.
- Well, who else than the top student?
Karmi walked forward, eyeing him her piercing, inquisitive gaze, infused with additional layer of lust. she might no longer be his adversary, but that didn't mean she'd stop trying to one-up Hiro. After all, a healthy rivalry is a great motivation for progress.
Karmi's lips met Hiro's in a short, but hungry kiss, before her hand pushed him back from his sitting position back onto the lab table he was disrobed on a few minutes ago.
She jumped into his laps, her hands already aiming at his erect cock she guided towards her overflowing pussy, as a single drop of her heat made it to its head and make him shudder in anticipation.
Hiro raised his brow, mimicking her cocky expression, as his hands moved up and down her waist, waiting to bury himself in her wet sex. But next thing he knew, his arms were grabbed and pushed over his head, as two metal clamps closed around his wrists.
The same happened to his ankles, immobilising and spreading him on the table, to his mistress' mercy. Something told him Karmi's not gonna make it easy for him...
His worries were confirmed when she took her phone and started a timer, at the same time as her wet fold pressed against his cock, pushing his length against his body. And as Karmi continued sliding her sex against him, he realised what she's been measuring.
Her delicate, but steady moves were setting his entire body on fire, as he was dying to get out of his cuffs and made love to Karmi.
And knowing that it was entirely up to her made it so much more rewarding.
Somewhere around him, a slow, sensual music was being played, no doubt chosen by Honey Lemon, that only made it more difficult. Karmi moved her body to the rhythm of the song, her body swaying with the beat, driving Hiro crazy. her lab coat hid some of her curves, accentuating others, never showing him all the beauty hidden underneath it.
Karmi also knew exactly how to edge him, her lower lips traversing his length up to his head, but never touching it, knowing it would be a point of no return.
But as long minutes of his love torture went on, Hiro noticed change in her behaviour as well, as her moves became slightly more erratic and uncoordinated, and she began caressing her breasts, in absence of his hands and lips.
- You-you want it too, Karmi, don't-don't you? - Hiro huffed, thrashing his body against the table, holding his oncoming climax. - A-Admit it!
Karmi looked at her subject with astonishment in her eyes, as she herself was desperate to cry his name. For a few more seconds, the two fought wordless battle, before Karmi grabbed his cock, and leapt onto it, letting her warm, welcoming sex engulf him completely.
- Hiro! - she cried, as her equally needy body was torn with a climax at the same time as her edged boyfriend.
She threw her head back and let the passion consume her, as she cried her lover's name with each portion of seed he shot up into her sex.
Despite her powerful climax, Karmi did not slump over him, but remained seated in his laps, and when she regained her senses, she reached for her phone.
- Well, let's see how well did you perform - she announced it with the same cocky, confident tone that vanished when she saw the results.
- Well? - Hiro mimicked her, raising his eyebrow.
- 15 minutes 16 seconds... - she spoke, unable to meet his eyes - The average is... 15 minutes 10 seconds.
- And you know it could be way longer, if you didn't break first.
- Sh-shut up! - she exclaimed with faux annoyance - I guess that experiment is over...
The metal restraints opened up, releasing Hiro, who was immediately taken by Honey Lemon, who pressed him against her bosom.
- Aww, did bad Karmi made you limit your moves?
- Mhm-mhm - Hiro replied from between her breasts, peppering it with kisses.
- Don't-don't worry Hiro, I'm-I'm gonna treat you so much better...
And Honey Lemon wasn't lying. A moment later, the two hopped on a bizarre structure made out of multicoloured bubbles that shaped themselves to their bodies' forms, better than any water bed ever could. Honey's long legs and arms coiled around Hiro, as she kissed his face, neck and torso, eager to make up for the love torture he went through.
- H-Honey... - Hiro gasped, feeling her lips closer and closer to his crotch
- Ssh, Hiro, relax... After all, I want you to be at full strength...
Honey cooed, as she grabbed something from her labcoat. She brought the colorful rubber and showed it to Hiro.
- One of my inventions. - she stretched it in her fingers - But-Oh dear, I need to clean the apparatus first. Looks like the previous user forgot to...
She looked at Karmi, before ducking and closing her lips around Hiro's cock, with a few globs of seed still clinging to it. As his musky smell filled Honey's nostrils, she wished she could continue her part that way and just use regular measuring flask... But her idea was so much more fun.
And so, reluctantly, she let go of Hiro's cock, kissing his tip, before she slid the rubber on. She then jumped back onto the bubbly bed and spread her legs inviting Hiro between them. But she let out a gasp when she felt his mouth against her sex.
- What? - Hiro mumbled against her folds - It's only fair I treat you as nicely as you did me...
Honey let out a moan, as Hiro's tongue dipped between her lips and his face was pushed against her already overflowing sex by Honey's hand, digging into his ruffled hair.
Honey kept her younger lover at bay for the next few minutes as he ate her out, licking, kissing and nibbling at her sex, until even the bubbly bed couldn't withstand her squirming and thrashing when she coated Hiro's face with her fluids.
- Come'ere...
She grabbed Hiro by his shoulders and swiftly brought him against her chest again, her legs automatically closing behind his back, as if she was afraid he'd back away.
But Hiro Hamada did precisely the opposite, diving deep into her pussy with his condom-clad hard cock, testing the bouncing bed they were making love on.
He finally could unleash the energy his hips wanted to expel when Karmi was edging him, and as a result, Honey received twice the amount of balls-deep slams, making her voice rise with each one.
Between their bodies mashing against each other, their lips seeking each other out and his cock reaching into her depths, it came as no surprise that Hiro came to his edge faster than he expected.
- Honey! I'm cumming!
- Good, Hiro! - she spoke and looked at the monitor just as Hiro's voice cracked.
His hips thrashed against her crotch one more time, and she let out a satisfying moan, followed by a slightly more coherent statement.
- Eleven millilitres! Twenty... Thirty-two!
Honey kept looking at the screen, crying the number out with each stream of seed that filled her special condom.
- Forty! Fifty! Sixty! - she cupped Hiro's cheeks and kissed him - You are way above the average.
- Am-Am I?
The two looked at the screen, which now, despite Honey's assertion showed 0.
- Oh dear, it must have broken...
And indeed, when Hiro pulled out, he was greeted with a burst instrument and more of his spunk leaking out of her sex.
- Well, normal condoms can stretch to contain litres, I had to calibrate this one for average male ejaculate to make the sensors work...
- Don't worry, Honey, you still have proven what you wanted, didn't you?
Honey smiled and kissed Hiro again, her fingers closing around his cock, as she slid the remains of her condom.
- And I'm gonna clean the workplace now!
Honey spoke and took him into her mouth once more to lick any loose strands of his seed, before she was abruptly pulled back by Gogo, grabbing her hair.
- You. Me. Bed. Now. - she stated and turned around, as Hiro automatically followed her orders.
Hiro expected Gogo to ride him just like Karmi wanted to, but she simply got on all fours and raised her curvy ass into the air, spreading her folds, inviting Hiro between them.
- Come on, fuck me. I'd like to see you try. - she spoke nonchalantly, as she glanced behind her back at her lover, already positioning himself.
- Is that it?
He grabbed his cock and pressed it against her wet opening. But at the same time, he heard a mechanical noise behind him and yelped when something cold and artificial pressed itself against his ass.
- G-Gogo?! - Hiro gasped in protest
- What, are you gonna chicken out? - Gogo snickered - Let's see if you can withstand your own moves against you...
Hiro swallowed loudly and taking a deep breath slid himself inside Gogo's pussy, while the robotic arm behind him shoved the lubed dildo inside his ass.
Hiro had to grasp Gogo's waist harder to ensure his position, and after his next thrust let out a prolonged, high-pitched moan that caused Gogo to giggle.
But then she cried as well, when Hiro shoved himself unceremoniously deep inside her, experiencing the same feeling inside his ass. Though the thrusts now were much more difficult to achieve, Hiro didn't stop, knowing that correct penetration of Gogo would benefit him as well.
And indeed, as he carefully plunged himself into her, the awkward feeling of his mechanical lover turned into pleasure, and was soon properly rutting Gogo, while the machine ravaged him. Gogo grasped the edge of the table she was lying on, trying to withstand double amount of thrusts that multiplied its force against her.
With each one, she felt him deeper inside her, until he was barely against her womb, just like the dildo was inching around his prostate.
And when the final stimulation happened in Hiro's body, it send not just a shockwave in his body, thrashing it against Gogo, but the stream of his potent warmth made her shudder in pleasure. Several times more has Hiro dived into her pussy, bathing her in his seed, until he pulled out, parting somewhat reluctantly with his robot lover.
- Oh wow... I didn't know you'd do it... - Gogo gasped, feeling his seed oozing out of her pussy.
- H-Honestly, neither did I...
Hiro spoke and on his weakened knees walked back to the bubbly bed, where Karmi and Honey rested. Soon, the two joined forces in caressing his tired body, and even Gogo showed her more tender side, though she ended her portion with a slap to the butt.
- Well, I'd say that concludes our experiments...
Hiro sighed, basking between his equally tired girlfriends, before they all drifted to well-deserved sleep. But unbeknownst to them, another set of experiments has been put into motion, one that would take months to complete... Nine, to be precise. And with its results being confirmed not once, not twice, but three times, it would prove Hiro to be a supreme stud of the SFIT, even if he and his girlfriends expected that to happen a few years later...
#hirem#hiro hamada#hiro/lemon/gogo/karmi#lemon#smutember#day 17#aged-up characters and all that#smutember 2021
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Kiss and Cry, Part 5
jurdan figure skating au > masterlist
Jude rubbed her temple, which throbbed with pain from too little sleep and caffeine deprivation. Images of Cardan and Locke swam through her mind, distracting her, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the new choreography. Jude was ready to punch something; she’d never had a problem picking up moves before, and Cardan was making her look incompetent. Not only that, but Madoc was getting progressively more frustrated with her.
“No, it’s crossover with arms, tilt, arabesque then into the lift,” Madoc yelled as Jude fumbled the order of the choreography again. “Try it again.”
Jude marked the arm motion and titled her torso to the side, then lifted her leg and spun toward Cardan, who waited patiently with open arms, ready to assist in the lift, the picture of rested and calm.
Jude was even more bothered by that part.
She hopped up and gasped as Cardan’s fingers brushed beneath her breasts. Jude snapped her head towards his smirking face, and she couldn’t help but jab her elbow into his shoulder. The small smile disappeared quickly as Cardan hissed in pain and let Jude wriggle out of his grasp. She breathed deeply, brows furrowed as she glared daggers in his general direction.
“What the hell?” He rubbed at his tender muscle.
“That’s not my waist, Cardan,” Jude hissed. “Watch your hands.”
Cardan rolled his dark eyes. “You’re just so much shorter than Nicasia,” he explained seriously, but Jude could see the amusement in his eyes. “I just need to adjust.”
“Well, adjust faster,” Jude seethed. She knew he was doing it on purpose. And it was pushing her to her limit. Cardan held up his hands in apology.
“Take five,” Madoc sighed, clearly exasperated with the pair in front of him.
That was fine by Jude. She grabbed her empty water bottle and walked out into the hallway to fill it at the water fountain. Cardan slinked up behind her as the water poured into the bottle, and Jude could feel herself tense at the feeling of him hovering behind her.
“Can I help you?” she ground out, refusing to look over her shoulder.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” Cardan retorted quicky. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts,” he continued.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Jude replied, screwing the top onto her bottle and taking a long sip.
“Funny,” Cardan said. “I slept like a rock.”
Jude couldn’t help but grimace, remembering why Cardan was so well rested. Images of his lithe body in the throes of ecstasy flashed through her mind. She didn’t know why it irritated her so much. But it did.
“Gross.”
“Hmm,” Cardan hummed, his dark eyes slowly perusing Jude’s form. She suddenly felt self-conscious.
“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t realize you were such a slut shamer,” Cardan retorted, his eyes suddenly amused with his own realization.
Jude knew he was trying to rile her up – but she was too aggravated and exhausted and couldn’t help but take the bait.
“I’m not,” she said, jutting her chin out stubbornly.
“I mean, you’re clearly judging me. So, either you’re offended by my sexual activity, or you’re homophobic,” Cardan prattled on, circling the water bottle in his hand with his hand, moving it up and down the cylinder in the most phallic motion he could imagine. Jude cringed again. “Neither is a good look.”
“I just think sex should be private,” she replied, her face warming slightly as she continued to track Cardan’s hand’s motions around his water bottle.
Cardan barked out a loud laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the girl who barged into the men’s locker room.”
Jude’s blush deepened. He had a point, but Jude had no idea what she’d be walking into when she’d gone to confront him.
“You know what I think?” Cardan took a step toward her, infringing upon her personal, and Jude inhaled sharply as his finger twisted itself in one of her chestnut curls. She held her breath, her body going still beneath his touch. “I think you’re jealous.” Cardan’s lips twitched upwards into a wry smile as fury overcame Jude.
“In your dreams,” Jude bit back, pushing his hand away from her face, out of her hair. She needed space.
Cardan bit his lip and his dark eyes became somehow impossibly darker. “Oh, dear Jude, you have no idea how right you are. The things you do with me in my dreams would positively shock you.”
“What, like stab you?” She mimed attacking him, her arm poised with an imaginary blade in her hand.
Cardan laughed, his head tilted back as the joyous noise reverberated through the hallway. “That wouldn’t be shocking to either of us, now would it?” he said, taking another step closer to her. Jude instinctively took a step back, needing to maintain her space.
As if challenged, Cardan took another step forward, until Jude had backed up into the wall. She hadn’t realized she’d inadvertently trapped herself. With no escape, Cardan hovered over her, looming tall and far too interested in her. She’d never been the object of his attention like this before, and it was unnerving. Jude shivered, feeling his warmth radiate between them.
He leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he whispered, “If you need a teacher, just let me know. I’d be most happy to educate you,” he smiled again, and Jude suddenly wasn’t so sure he was making fun of her or not. “With proper instruction maybe you’d finally see that sex isn’t evil.”
“You’re disgusting,” Jude breathed. She attempted to inject some vitriol into her tone, but it was hoarse and husky even to her own ears.
“Ah yes, there’s that frigid exterior I’d love to thaw…” Cardan ran his finger down her cheek, watching the color bloom beneath his touch, but it was short-lived.
“Frigid?” Jude froze, a proverbial bucket of ice water spilling down her back. “You sexist piece of shit.”
Jude ducked under his arm, breathing hard. It wasn’t the first time a man had used that word against her, and it stung. As if being more interested in skating than physical intimacy somehow made her unworthy of romantic attention.
Cardan’s confident face faltered for a second. “I didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean to call me frigid?” Jude scoffed. “A commonly sexist term used to describe women who are more sexually conservative? Asshole.” Jude was sure their break was over, and she didn’t want to stand here having this conversation anymore. She began to head back into the studio.
“Jude, I’m sorry,” Cardan apologized as he trailed after her. “I wasn’t thinking.” He reached out and brushed his hand against his shoulder, retracting it quickly when Jude flinched under his touch. “I meant that you’re cold, icy…not that…”
“Whatever, Cardan.” Jude pulled her hair into a fresh bun, tightening her elastic and securing her loose strands. She wouldn’t show him how his words hurt. Instead, she placed on a ferocious mask, ready to attack her choreography.
She stood in front of the mirror and ignored the way Cardan’s dark eyes continuously sought hers out. She’d look anywhere but at him.
His hands remained respectful as she learned the routine, sticking to the safe spots of her waist, hands and calves.
Jude dug into the choreography, refocusing and letting it fill her body until it became second nature. She refused to let Cardan get under her skin, into her head.
“Much better,” Madoc sighed, relieved, as they finished their final run through of the morning. “Let’s call it.”
Jude was anxious to get the hell out of there, and away from Cardan, but Cardan stopped her again with another apology.
“Jude, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—” he began again, but Jude held out her hand to stop him.
“Listen, we’re stuck with each other for the next month during practice,” Jude said. “I can’t get out of that. But, the rest of my life is mine. So, just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”
Cardan’s gaze hardened as he nodded, acquiescing to her request.
“Cardan, Jude,” Madoc shouted from back inside the studio. They both walked back to the doorway, waiting expectantly for their coach. “I’m being honored at the Champions On Ice benefit Gala this weekend. As the placing leaders of this team, I’d like you both to introduce me.” Cardan and Jude glanced at each other tentatively. “Please work together to come up with an appropriate tribute. And, yes, it will be black tie, so dress accordingly.” Neither Cardan nor Jude said a word to their coach, so he continued. “Is that going to be an issue?” They shook their heads. “Great.” Madoc clapped his hands. “See you tomorrow.”
Jude glanced over her shoulder at Cardan trailing after her. “I guess we’ll be spending more time together, hm? Should we grab lunch?” he asked.
She spun around, watching a surprised Cardan pause his pursuit. “Nice try, Cardan. Just draft something up and email it to me, and I’ll do a pass and send it back.”
She turned around again, not seeing Cardan and his sagging shoulders in the middle of the parking lot.
~*~
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In our own image... (21)
Chapter 21
(Poe Dameron x OFC)
Other chapters...
My Masterlist
Word count: 2k. Read it on AO3.
Rating: Teen & Up (PG) mind control.
A/N Update schedule going to T/Fri for a while. The low interaction on this combined with my writer’s block are making it likely this may eventually just get shelved.
Everything was… fuzzy. Like he was seeing it through a pane of ancient glass. The kind people used to melt down from sand rather than manufacturing transparisteel. There were waves and ripples in reality. Warping his vision. Sometimes if he moved his head too fast it was as though the world took a minute to catch up. Sliding past his eyes in slow motion.
His world had narrowed down to very few things worth thinking about. He eats when he is hungry. Relieves himself when he feels the need to do so. Sleeps when he is told.
And he serves.
He kneels by their thrones, hands and feet and mind ready when they ask. Trying to anticipate their every whim. They pet him sometimes, running gentle hands through his hair and he hums in appreciation. Sometimes they are not so nice. Sometimes the hands are claws, digging into his skin. He has displeased them, but he doesn’t know how.
They keep telling him he’s fighting. The voices around him that slink through his mind like smoke. The song that thrums into the back of head, pulsing along the veins of his body. Stop fighting, it says to him, over and over. Like a mantra he never asked for. Stop fighting and be ours. He strains towards the voices, towards the song, the beat, the melody. He wants to hold it in his hands and press it into his heart.
He tries to tell them. Tries to tell them he’s not fighting. He’s stretching, reaching, wanting, waiting. He’s not fighting. He could never fight them. Would never want to. He is here to serve.
When they take his clothes and order him to bathe he doesn’t fight them. Nor does he fight when they give him back only a pair of thin, loose trousers to wear. He takes his place with the others happily, in a line of other bare-chested men and loosely garbed women who are also there to serve.
He appreciates being one of many, appreciates being one who serves. That’s what the song tells him. He doesn’t even need to hear it anymore to know the melody by heart. He is one who serves.
He kneels with the others, eyes bright with adoration when his goddesses come. When one touches him his whole body quakes with need. When she places a finger beneath his chin he tilts his head up to her, begging her silently to love him.
But then she moves away, her face disappointed and he feels it like a knife through his heart. She tells him again that he is fighting. Doesn’t he want to be theirs?
He does, he wants it so badly he can feel his heart break at the accusation in her voice. He nods so fiercely his hair falls into his eyes, his hands reaching out to clasp the hem of her robe. Clenching his fingers into it with a wordless plea. She pauses, looking down on him with a harsh gaze. Then plucking his fingers from her one by one until he is left to hold nothing but air.
He has displeased her.
Pain fills his heart. His mind. He wants nothing but to please her. The look on her face shatters him, sends him reeling. He clasps for the melody again but it feels wrong somehow. Not as comforting.
Hasn’t he done everything they have asked of him? When the man came, claiming to be his friend, claiming he needed to leave, he had sent him away. Told the truth. Told him that his place was here, that it was all he wanted.
They had not been disappointed in him then. Had praised him, laying him across a throne and caressing his chest. His arms. His neck. He had reveled in being the center of their world, of having these ethereal beings focused on him. They had painted designs on him, sang him the song and he had tried, he really had. He had become lost in them and what they were doing with their fingertips. The intricate swirls and patterns in deep gold they drew across his body that reminded him of Her eyes.
Her.
Someone else. Another goddess. Not here. She was not here, was somewhere else. But as he fell, as he was lured into the deep with them he had reached out and She was there waiting. Holding Her arms out to him and he had fallen into Her gratefully. Wrapped himself in Her warmth.
They say he is fighting but he’s not.
He will serve them while he waits. Serve them until he can serve Her. He adores them and will take every opportunity to tell them so. To show them with his body and his heart that he belonged to them.
But his soul…. he is Hers.
It’s most difficult with the one that looks like Her. When she caresses his face or traces her fingers across the designs set upon his bare chest he feels himself swaying. When she croons into his ear he can almost feel her fingers plucking at his defenses, pulling him piece by piece away from Her. But he never strays far. Has only to see her eyes to know that she is not Her.
It angers her. She struck him once for it, a hard slap that set his ears ringing - drowning out for just a second the song that thrummed in his blood. He had blinked at her, brows furrowing in confusion. Had seen the look of shock that went over her face before she was on her knees with him, hands cupping his cheeks, her lips on his as she sang her song directly into his body and as quickly as that he was sinking again. Falling through the air and feeling the joy of flight once more. The weightlessness, the freedom. Falling down down down down…
That was nearly it for him. Sinking into the tune she was playing on his tongue. Had she not stopped to gloat, to give him a feral, catlike smile he might have never stopped. Might have lost himself.
But her eyes were not Hers. They pulled him up short and the part of him that was still him searched in the darkness for Her.
He wasn’t fighting - but neither was he giving in.
They seem afraid to let him stray. To lose sight of him. While others were sent on errands, he is always by their side. A hand in his hair while they pet him like a dog. He doesn’t mind, the attention makes him happy. He catches his sleep that way - he has to. When he is alone, apart from them for too long his head begins to hurt. He had discovered that the first day, waking from nightmares of blaster fire and danger and loneliness. His head pounding like it was going to explode. He had dragged himself from the room he was given, presented himself to their mercy.
Since then he never slept alone. Always touching, always reaching. They each accommodated him in a different way. One allowing him to curl across the foot of her bed where he could wrap his fingers around her soft ankle. Another allowing him to sit on the floor near the pillows, his fingers wrapped into strands of her hair.
But his favorite was the one who used him herself. Laying him out into the soft pillows and nuzzling her face into his stomach. He always slept soundest with her in his arms. Her touch on his skin.
He couldn’t have told you how long he was there, wrapped in their song. Feeling it sink deeper and deeper inside of him until the notes were carved into his bones. It could have been an eternity spent happily in their service. He no longer looks at the people who occasionally come to visit. The ones who do not love his mistresses.
How could they be so blind? How could they be in their presence and not love them. It pains him. He wishes he could show them the way, the light, the truth of what they are. Some of the visitors give him looks of pity he does not understand. One man in a grey suit with red and blue bars across his breast laughed, had offered to purchase him. He had sat in fearful silence while his mistresses discussed the offer, relieved when they had turned the man down.
He belonged here. Not with that man with the sallow cheeks who called him 'Dameron' like it was a curse. When the man left they had asked him if he had wanted to leave. If he wanted to be 'Dameron' again.
He had assured them that whoever this 'Dameron' was he had no interest in being them. Only in being theirs. They had laughed, soothing his agitation with musical notes and three sets of hands were stroking him and he never wanted to hear the name again.
He is happy. Trusted finally. They send him on small errands. Fetching fruit or other things to sustain them. Today they have asked for wine and he leapt to his feet to be of service. He strides the halls confident, bare feet padding on the stone floor. He stands tall, proud, wanting to prove that he is worthy of their grace.
The storage room he goes to first is full of food, delicate bites that have been gifted from all over the known galaxy. The next is the same. The third is what he is looking for, flagons of sweet red wine lining the shelves. He chooses one carefully, cradling it in his hands before leaving. He is brought up short by the sight of two women in the hallway. One is forgettable, brown hair pulled back from her face and a short metal rod at her side. But the other…
It’s Her.
He falls to his knees, mouth gaping open, flagon slipping from his fingers. He doesn’t notice it stop before hitting the floor, doesn’t see the woman next to Her hold a hand out and gently set it down a few feet away without even touching it. All he can see is Her face. The beautiful designs on Her body that mark Her as celestial.
Poe stops fighting.
She is saying something. Something about luck and chances. Her hand reaches out to him and he takes it, his body convulsing at the feeling of Her skin on his. She is urging him back into the tunnels, away from his mistresses but he doesn’t care. She is who he was waiting for.
She is everything.
He won’t let Her go. As they duck out a side door and She is rushing him through narrower and more crowded tunnels he refuses to let Her go. Grips Her hand with his until She has to stop, turn to him. Place a hand on his cheek and he leans into it with his mouth.
The other woman is speaking, he can hear a whistle and a tinned voice in response. But whatever they are saying is nothing compared to being able to taste Her. Her fingers press to his mouth and he looks into Her eyes. The ones he’s dreamed about. Beautiful and deep and kind and everything the others were not. He is falling again, but this time there is nothing to catch him. He can feel the bliss overtaking him, the need to wrap himself into Her and never let go.
Her eyes are urging him to do something, her hands pulling him and he follows willingly. Leaves behind his lesser goddesses for this one. The only one. The one he had chosen. And all the while he can feel his mind receding further and further into the dark warmth of the song. Her name written alongside his own deep inside himself.
He follows because it’s the only thing he knows how to do. He follows because it’s what is right. He follows because it’s what She wants.
He’d follow Her into death itself.
=
Chpt 22
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Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 12
The next waffle was perfect, crispy golden and almost a perfect circle, with beautiful melted pools of chocolate dotting the surface, with two almost perfectly in the Eevee pattern’s eyes, and Jason passed it over to Steph’s plate as he chanted a few Latin prayers, grinning as she burst into cackles at his terrible imitation of a priest. He’d utterly butchered the old prayers, but eh, it wasn’t like he was practicing anymore, and it made Steph laugh, so he still felt it was doing right by a God he’d long since stopped believing in.
“Oh god, you’re Catholic, aren’t you?”
“Eh, technically I’m a Resurrectionist—” She snorted at that, loud and adorable and perfect (everyone always looked weirded out, and Jason had, early on, always done his best to snort the same way. Weird dead Robins had to look out for one another.) He snickered in response. “But yes, I’m a former Catholic. Used to go to St. Maria’s as a kid, before Father John cleaned the place up.”
“…And the chanting?”
“Look, we only fucked up one waffle! Gotta bless it before shit goes south again.” She laughed at that, bold and happy and loud, and he planted kisses all over her face before turning back to the waffle maker and getting it going again. Glancing back over his shoulder, Jason grinned to see Steph holding up a fork with a triangle of waffle, topped with whipped cream and one of the raspberries she’d washed up, and he took the offering with a nom, groaning as the concoction melted in his mouth. Chewing, he gave her a thumbs up, already planning on making one for himself, and she chuckled, spraying on whipped cream and tossing on raspberries with abandon, then diving right in.
“Ooohhhhh this is soooooo good.”
“And somewhat healthy, that’s the lowfat whipped cream and everything’s organic.” He grinned after swallowing his mouthful of heaven, mouth watering already as he watched the waffle maker count down with hungry eyes; together, they switched off and a half-dozen waffles for each later, plus bacon and eggs, they were settled on Steph’s tiny couch and snuggled up close, groaning over their shared food babies. Jason had tucked a warm blanket over them both, because the rain coming down outside was just a little chilly for his tastes, and her apartment was…definitely on the list to be reno’d.
“…mmm…”
“Hmm?”
“This is really nice, Jay…”
“Yeah it is…” He murmured, tucking her head into his shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead, scarred fingers gently playing with a long curl of her hair before shifting to comb through the rest of her curls, making her purr against his neck.
“Ohhhh yes…please don’t stop…” He chuckled and shifted just a little so that he could bring his other hand up; with both hands, he started working on the knots in her neck and shoulders, on up into her scalp and back down, careful to comb away her soft curls so that they didn’t tangle. Steph melted into his chest, all the tension from the week just falling away as they snuggled to the song of rain and thunder outside, and Jason hummed softly as she whimpered at the release of one particularly bad knot in her right shoulder.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah…fuck…been hurting there for a while now…”
“Why didn’t you say something?” She snorted softly, then sighed.
“You know how everyone is…”Do yoga, work it out, or just deal with it.” Jason heaved a heavy sigh himself at that, wincing.
“Touché, not being a part of the daily Batdrama made me forget about Bruce’s general masochism about pain and aches. Well, tell ya what; whenever either of us is hurting, how about we either work on each other, or go see an expert? I’ll foot the bill.”
“Yes, please. I’m…well, I don’t know how to massage someone properly? I’m guessing you learned from Alfred…”
“Talia, actually, and Nyssa while she was part of the League. Ra’s thinks it’s stupid, because it’s a ‘women’s weakness’ or some bullshit, but Talia and Nyssa both used massage as a tool, among their subordinates and with one another. And me, I guess, I was the odd duck out; most of the men were under Ra’s, while Talia’s personal guard was exclusively female.”
“She knew you, though.” Jason smiled at that, sad at the memories, and nodded, kissing her cheek now as Steph shifted up to meet his eyes. He normally didn’t like making a lot of eye contact with people, hence the hood, but Steph…it was different. Like Nyssa, in a way…Talia I never did, because she would take that as a challenge, but Nyssa and I grew to be good friends, and it was…easy with her. B always thought I was interested in her, but no; she’s just a familiar soul, I suppose. Steph, however, was even easier; there was always something in her gaze that reminded him of his own reflection, and he was sure that could be psychoanalyzed into oblivion, but he wasn’t gonna go that deep.
“She did. Damian…probably doesn’t remember all that well, but I was basically his babysitter for Talia for the short time I was there; she trusted a Robin, even one as much a zombie as I was at first, because even with the Pit madness, I was…well. Protective.” She smiled a little, and he smiled back, stroking her cheek now. “I never shoulda left him there, but…well…”
“You did what you could.”
“Yeah…and Talia was fine with me kiting off; taking Damian would have gotten me killed again. I’m just so glad she turned him over to Bruce…”
“Me too. It’s…B’s not the greatest parent, but he’s really working with Damian, which is huge given the crap he’s pulled with all of us.” Jason chuckled at that, nuzzling her cheek, and she kissed him softly, settling against his side. He tucked her close, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, and rubbed her lower back now, grinning as she melted back into his shoulder.
“I think Damian reminds him of Dick, in a lot of ways, just more aggression, like me. So, instead of Tim, who’s learned, like Bruce, to control all his emotions in one clean, collected package, he has a Robin with attitude and a whole lotta baggage again, and he’s having to jump through hoops that he could largely train out of both Dick and I. Fortunately, Damian’s just as stubborn as B, and it’s kinda great that he’s been able to force some changes of his own.” Steph chuckled at that.
“Like Batcow, Alfred the Cat, Titus…”
“Fuckin’ Goliath, and lemme tell you, Demon Kitty was not on the list of potential pets B was willing to consider.”
“Which was why Damian just brought him home and didn’t care.” Jason snickered, laughter rumbling through his chest, which made Steph snuggle in more, much to his delight.
“Yup, and the look on B’s face is one I’ll treasure forever.” She giggled, and kissed him again, and Jason melted into the kiss, groaning when her hand started rubbing up and down his neck. He rolled a little more onto his side so that her arm didn’t cramp, and let out a full body sigh, snuggling around her. “Ohhhh baby you don’t have to…”
“I want to, Jay…tell me if I do something wrong?”
“I doubt you will, but yes, if it comes up…fuuuuuuuuuuuck oh hell yeah, right there.” He almost whimpered when she started scritching his scalp, nuzzling her hair with a moan of relief. It was better than sex, in a way; this was…grounding, and comforting, and more intimate. “Ffffucksofuckinggood.”
“This is for making me waffles, you amazing, wonderful, glorious man. I’m not sure I’m ready for sex yet, so hairscritches are at least a decent substitute?”
“Sosogoodbetterthansex.” He mumbled out, and she giggled again, shifting him so that he was facedown in the pillows and Steph was straddling his hips, working her hands up and down his back over his teeshirt, and Jason just went limp, eyes rolling with relief as his scarred muscles were carefully worked free of kinks and knots. Steph had said she hadn’t a clue, but she was gentle on his back, not pressing too hard, nor was she too light on the scars; her hands were softer than his, less callused, and so the gnarled skin over each old wound didn’t tense or ache from too much sensation. She mapped out his back with care, and with a sigh, he reached a hand back and patted her thigh.
“Babe, don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not a genius, because that is amazing.” He could almost feel the brightness of her smile, and he chuckled as she leaned down to kiss his shoulder, purring at the warmth of her body on top of his. “Seriously.”
“I’m so glad…I hope your scars aren’t hurting?”
“Definitely not, not even twinging like usual from the rain…How about you?” She sighed a little, snuggling in closer, and he craned his neck around, worried. “Babe?”
“I’m…a little achy, but it’s in weird spots…I don’t wanna be gross…” She murmured, nuzzling his shoulder, and he gently rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, ignoring the awkward position.
“…It’s not gross if it’s things that hurt.” He murmured, and she shifted back, letting him turn and face her, green eyes earnest. “Cramps? Period? I can run out and get you whatever you need?” She blushed, shaking her head, then nodded, then sighed, and he gently drew her back into his arms, tucking her between his legs and wrapping the blanket around her, snuggling her close. “The scars Sionis gave you too?”
“…Yeah. I…Look, this is gonna be…really fuckin’ gross, but when he tortured me…he…he didn’t just limit himself to my stomach and breasts…” She murmured, gulping a little, and he closed his eyes, swallowing back the sudden rage. “He didn’t put the drill in me, thank fuck for that, but things are…kinda fucked up down there. And yeah, it’s my period going, so it’s just…extra gross…” Steph blushed bright red, and he gently stroked back her curls, eyes soft, patient. “…I have to wear the disposable underwear that old people use…”
“…Oh sweetheart, that’s okay. Does it work?” She glanced up, eyes brimming with tears, and he gently kissed her brow, her cheek, her nose, her lips, brushing soft kisses all over her face, but she nodded, one lone tear overflowing. He gently brushed it away, cupping her cheek. “Then that’s all that matters to me. I won’t be grossed out, I won’t be upset. Hell…when you do see me naked, you might run away. I’m…not exactly in great shape down there, either. Missing one of my balls and my dick ain’t the straightest.” He followed that with a fake grin, still embarrassed, deep down, but she saw right through him; Steph shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“If Roy and the others didn’t care…I won’t. Besides…” She huffed out a laugh, and he felt a real smile touch his lips again. “It just means we can be fucked up together. But…thank you for not being grossed out anyway. It’s…you’re the first person to know besides B and Leslie…and B only knows because he hacked the hospital records. And you’re the only person who’s…probably ever gonna see them, which…I’m fine with.” He smiled at that, and she smiled back, kissing him softly. “So long as you intend to keep that proposal available.”
“Baby, it’s all yours; hell, we could go out one of these days and get a set of rings.”
“…You really want a set?”
“Fuck yeah I do, I wanna be a kept man.” The snort she gave was absolutely adorable, and Jason grinned wide at that, feeling their previous good mood return finally, and Steph kissed him, full and happy and perfect, before snuggling back into his chest.
“…So, kept man…could you rub my lower back again? Cramps are hitting me hard…” He placed his hands over her hips, gently rubbing and warming the area, and Steph sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder, the tension bleeding out of her limbs. “Fuck…thank you…”
“So welcome, sugar…Wanna watch something mindless?” She smiled, and as Jason grabbed the remote, she let out a soft sigh, snuggling in closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead once more, running his hand over her lower back and keeping her safe and warm.
Yeah.
He really loved Sundays.
#JaySteph#Stephanie Brown#Jason Todd#tw: past body mutilation#cuddles and snuggles#fluff and romance#discussion of period#supportive partner#waffles#gothambysunlight#solarpunkgotham#rainy sundays
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Looking from above
A continuation of a Zodiac Fan Fic.
Thank you so much to everyone that liked and shared my previous story. I binge read and reread the Zodiac series this year and loved it so much that I couldn’t let it go just yet. I obviously do not own this world the Romina Russell has so masterfully created. My heart just feels a little happier thinking of the snippets of after.
...
Sometimes I think I can hear her in the Psy. The need to search the stars for the dangers of tomorrow had proven to be a habit too difficult to break. It became worse when I realized I was pregnant.
Nishi would have been overly involved in every step of the way. It took every molecule in my body not to name my daughter after her. Hysan had suggested it, but I knew Nishi. She would have scoffed and said that it would be cruel to give my child the expectation to live in the shadow of her mother’s best friend.
So, we named our daughter Helena Grace Dax.
There was a heavy tension in the Zodiac for years after the war. Some of the older generations were too comfortable in their old ways.
When we were thirteen, then twelve types of people and not one Zodiac.
When there was the Taboo.
News of Hysan and I getting married, did not come without backlash. Many came from Cancer, some cancreans never forgave me for hesitating the warning signal when Cancer was going to be destroyed.
They called me a traitorous whore. There was a sting of rejection, but Pandora reminded me that my people were all over the Zodiac. Not just Cancer. She knew first hand with her blue-eyed son of a cancrean. Her family had not been so welcoming to the news either.
Little Jaius, was precious and the firstborn in the new world. Needless to say, we all spoiled him rotten, much to Mattias’ objection.
When Helena was born, Jaius found a constant companion. They would be sure to Wave each other each night before bed to recount their days.
Jaius was the one who coined Helena’s nickname ‘Lena’ partly because he was an excited two-year-old when he met her for the first time.
I smile when I think of the memory of leaving the medical bay to see my friends gathered around the lobby with an obnoxious assortment of gifts and a beautiful boy racing to hug my legs and peer at Helena’s tiny, squished face. He gazed at her with so much wonder and looked at me with big wide eyes.
“I love Lena,” He announced and Hysan and Mattias burst out laughing.
“Give her a few years, Jaius. Besides, Grace women love the thrill of the chase.” He said and swiftly ducked away from my kick.
At the present moment, I blinked awake not realizing that I had fallen asleep in the reading room. The golden orbs winked in and out of sunlight with the new version of the Capricorn snow globes with memories.
I struggle to sit up, my swollen abdomen pushing me back into the plush, plum-colored couch. This pregnancy has left me much more exhausted than I was with Helena. I expect it’s a boy for that reason.
Massaging my lower back, I manage to waddle out to the hall and follow the sound of singing power tools.
Hysan had been working on a new android. Ms. Trie had informed Hysan and me that for Helena to reach her true potential she would need various tutors to challenge her. Hysan had rolled his eyes but complied. Although, I knew the real reason he caved.
The taboo was eradicated and people were more accepting. For the most part. Our little family was held at a different standard. Many houses questioned our loyalty to the entire Zodiac.
Equinox had already been attacked twice. Once after Helena was two months old and the latest last month when it became impossible to hide my pregnancy.
As I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of sparks dancing in the air. There is a large silver object at the center of the work table. Hysan has his welder’s shield on so only his golden halo of hair. He has his gray coveralls and his muscles arms peek out from above his rubber gloves. I bit my bottom lip, Another side effect this baby has brought out is an unquenchable need for sex, even eight months along.
Hysan didn’t seem to mind this affliction one bit. The helmet moved in my direction is pulled back just as soon as the welding gun is off.
There was sweat beading on his forehead and a light shadow of stubble coating his chin and cheeks. The gold in his eyes flickered at my expression. He braced his arms against the workbench. My mind traveled to all the times he had taken me on that very bench. Hysan seemed to read my thoughts because he inclined his head for me to join him.
I slowly make my way to my husband and place my hands on his shoulders. He circled his arms around my hips and lower back. He took a moment to caress my stomach before moving up to my heavy breasts. My breath hitched and he swallowed the sound while pulling me to his chest.
“Daddy, I need the 4mm socket wrench.” Called a soft voice from above. Hysan’s hand slid to my lower back and we pulled away. We looked up to see our daughter dangling upside down on the hanger. With her mane of curls tied back in a long, blonde braid and large green goggles dwarfing her face.
Hysan reached for the tool but didn’t hand it to Helena.
“Hmm I am not sure 4mm is the right size it seems too small for the hover scooter, Lena”: He said and Helena pushed the goggles to her forehead and narrowed her hazel eyes at her father. She analyzed his debate and managed to look much older than six.
“It’s the right size even a 5mm would be too big and slip off of the bolts.” She challenged with a smirk, looking just like Hysan. He grinned and handed Helena the tool.
“Ahh yes. My mistake,” he said and Helena leaned down and kissed Hysan’s cheek before going back to work on her scooter.
“She is just like you,” I said. Hysan turned to me, still beaming, and shrugged.
“Maybe just a bit,” He said with a wink, his face full of pride.
“I have a feeling baby number two is going to follow the same path” I say and rub small circles on my abdomen.
“A house of prodigies, how will I ever keep up?” I laughed and Hysan hugged me close.
“Don’t sell yourself short, you are a prodigy with the stars and a wonderful leader and mother. I’d say you give me a great deal to work up to.” He said softly into my hair.
Suddenly, I jolted upright, nearly knocking my head into Hysan’s chin. The baby managed to give two simultaneous kicks on separate sides of my stomach.
“What is it?” Hysan asked, His face tightening with concern. Helena swung down from the hanger and scurried to my side.
“Are you okay, Mama?” She asked her to face a bit pale. I smoothed some of the frizz on the top of her head.
“Yes, my love. I’m fine. I just think I may have figured out why I am so big this time around” I sighed motioning to my swollen abdomen. They both seem confused and gave mirrored concerned expressions to one another. I shook my head and placed both of their hands on my stomach.
A moment later the same painful simultaneous kicks thumped against my skin.
Hysan’s eyes grew wide and he rubbed his mouth and chin.
“Why is the baby being so rough with you, Mama?” Helena asked, her eyes narrowing at disapproval at my stomach as if she could stare down her rowdy sibling through the womb. Hysan barked out a laugh and ruffled her hair.
“Well, they are probably kicking around to make room.” He said and kneeled to Helena’s level.
“Mama has two babies in her belly” Hysan clarified. Helena stared from me to Hysan and then to my stomach. She rubbed her hands on her face, leaving tiny grease marks across her cheeks.
“Mama, that is too much!” She exclaimed and Hysan doubled over laughing at one point there were tears in my eyes. Helena did not find this amusing.
“Nothing we can do about it now, Lena” Hysan said and Helena shook her head exasperated. She placed her hands on her tiny hips.
“Well, Daddy. Now you have to make another android because I simply cannot handle two of them.” She instructed Hysan while wagging her finger at him. He stood and firmly placed his welder’s helmet and saluted the young girl.
“As you wish, my lady,” he said and Helena beamed at him. She turned and firmly grabbed my hand.
“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream. You must be exhausted.” She empathized. I nodded and shot Hysan a glance over my shoulder. He lifted his helmet and blew me a kiss. I smiled at him.
Nishi would have been doubling over with us. I look up to the skylight in the kitchen and make out the faint constellation of Sagittarius in the night sky. Deep in my heart, I know Nishi is looking down on us, watching over in Elysium with Deek. They probably are teasing me without mercy. Helios, they are probably the ones that spoke of me having twins into existence.
#zodiac#romina russell#hysan dax#rho#rhoma grace#romance#fiction#fanfiction#children#helena#hysanxrho
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His Saxon Whore
❛ pairing | Hvitserk x Saxon Whore!reader
❛ type | oneshot
❛ summary | having grown up in a world where there are no brothels, he finds them a mystery when he meets her in york. he comes to see her-- but its not always about sex.
❛ warnings | prostitute!reader, vikings/saxons, slightly rude!hvitserk, mother whoring out daughter
❛ sy’s notes | if i left out a tag, i’m sorry.
They all told him his dick would fall off.
But he didn’t really care.
There were no brothels at home. Thralls? Yes. Plenty and plenty of warm pussies he could buy. But nothing was cheaper, and more worth his coin, than the little brothel he came upon in York one day. Quivering little bodies who explained, quite willingly, that they were meant for the sort of work Hvitserk came to take them for.
So yanking her leg out really wasn’t necessary. But as he found out, she preferred a man that knew what she liked. Not politely giving coin but, deliciously being chucked over his shoulder and swept off like a man from raid coming home. And really... that’s what this was.
“Who you here to see this time, sweetheart?”
Hvitserk’s eyes scan over the woman, whose sloppy skirts are picked up over the spider veins that run up her shapely legs. She’s seen him before, no doubt. The woman has a tendency to pick on men she deems as worthy targets. Baby boys looking for a mommie. But he’s never had mommie problems-- or, none that he couldn’t handle.
He turns his head from her small, meager little hut toward a thatched roof with soft planks of wood to support it. It bore an iron door. Mainly because after his last visit, he claimed that the do. It opens and a farmer skitters out hiding his face as he goes. Likely didn’t want to tell his misses the shillings he burned.
“(Y/N), like usual.”
Hvitserk says to the pimp whose husband was busy with other duties. She looks him up and down, the cloak over his head obscuring his eyes and the worth of his sword. She could likely charge a fair and healthy price-- fifteen shillings, maybe even twenty for a prince like him. But one look and she knew who he was, a vikingr and dangerous territory.
“Five shillings then,” she says. “My girl will treat you good again. Best one I bore.”
“Twenty for the night.” Hvitserk drops the shillings in her hand. She stands aside to allow him to duck into the home. This space you shared with your other sisters is far from private. It’s barely sectioned off into three different rooms by modest curtains. You sat in your section wiping down the wooden bed. Then after cleaning yourself, you chuck the cloth into a bucket of cool water.
Hvitserk draws the curtains shut.
“Princess,” he draws out your fitting title.
You sit more properly when you hear that heavy accent. A Vikingr, sure, but your Vikingr to be correct. The red veil you meant to wear is sloppily thrown on the ground.
“Oh!” you laugh, “I’m hardly decent.”
“I’ve been waiting,” Hvitserk lurches forward, tipping you back upon the bed. You reach out and pull the cloak off his honey brown hair, skidding your hands over his shoulders and tightening there as he devours your neck in soft kisses unlike the attention given by other men. With no clothes on, his greedy hand palms over your flesh. The mop of his long brown hair trails lower then, forcing you to keep in place with a firm hand forming a collar around your neck.
He brings his other hand around your breast and opens his mouth around your nipple. His mouth closes over the delicate flesh there, suckling your nipple with soft force. Then tugs slightly as to hear you cry out. Hvitserk tweaks your nipple as he pulls off. Catching your eyes, his hand migrates lower over the expanse of your stomach toward wiry curls hiding your well-abused pussy.
You reach out, tightening over his shoulder, and stop him. “It’s not decent.”
You’re an illiterate prostitute whose cunt at this point probably reflected the amount of soiling done to it, but he feels little seed there when he pushes his fingers in. Just a smooth silkiness to your well used walls. While ignoring you, he stretches you open around his fingers. In your protest, you shut your legs as well as you can.
“I have enough coin to do what I want,” he says. It sounds acrid off his tongue-- and yet, well intentioned. “Open your legs.”
You cautiously obey him, opening so that he might see. Hvitserk slides down, spreading your lips apart in order to thrust his fingers smoothly. As much as you don’t want him to, his tongue soothes the motion along your lips. Almost making you excited-- but when he pulls his fingers clean, its almost as if he’s checking a well baked cake for batter. He smoothes the blood over the forest green sleeve of his tunic.
“You’re torn,” he observes, almost wounded.
“It’s typical.”
Not typical for him to press on when his woman was in pain. At least not his free women. Hvitserk shoves your legs together and climbs back up to lay beside you. You savour his arm sneaking behind your back, pulling you in.
“The men. They are big here?” Hvitserk asks, curious if it was overuse, roughness, or perhaps your lack of excitement that drove you to tear.
You snort. “If only. They’re short, stupid and-- annoying. They come here to whine about their wives or of King Alfred while being good, wholesome Christians.”
“That sounds right.” Hvitserk laughs as you reach for your dinner. A simple dinner of roasted deer and bread. It became obvious that he wasn’t going to force sex tonight. Your sore pussy was glad for it… though, you did miss him.
“Aescwine though,” you jerk your head to the side. A man that had been waiting patiently for his attention. “He enjoys it when I stand on his dick and beat his balls.”
“Oh-- ahh! Why would he do that?”
Hvitserk reaches down, cupping his hand on top of his privates. You laugh at his expense. It’s almost too cute the way he immediately assumes he’s next. You’ve not done it to anyone else. You take a bite of the leg and lead it up against his lips. “Some men like it. You could--”
“No,” Hvitserk takes a bite, shifting back to set his arm around you. He lays down with his eyes closed and you wonder how comfortable his armour was to sleep in. You turn over against him, walking two fingers over the scruff of his jaw.
“What are you thinking?” you ask.
“‘Bout you.” He answers. “How you never get pregnant.”
“I do,” you explain. “That’s what the pennyroyal is for.”
Then-- nothing.
Hvitserk takes some time to think on it. He’s asked you before how you came into this profession. Family business, you said. But a family business where your father and mother pimped their daughters out? Doesn’t seem right to him. But, again, Anglo-Saxon women weren’t free. They belonged to the men in the family more so than Norsemen.
It’s a great headache.
“You wanna learn to read again?”
And you smile behind greasy, roasted meat when he reaches back into his cloak, fetching the tablet and a small utensil used to scratch upon it.
“I’ve probably forgotten,” you smile. Hvitserk flips the tablet, offering it out to you. It’s his own language, but sometimes...
“So have I.”
“You’re so stupid,” you tease. But dropping your meat, you bring the tablet onto your lap and skim over what letters were already there. For a moment he admires the glitter in your eyes-- the delight you take in language. Even when you tear it apart.
“Ivar says that all the time.”
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#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk/reader#hvitty x reader#hvitserk imagines#hvitserk's heathen feast#vikings imagines#viking imagines#vikings/reader#vikings x reader#vikings imagine#hvitserk imagine
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