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httpiastri · 3 months

Text

focus – pa17

you just can't help staring at paul's hands and arms. it's impossible not to.

genre: smut 😵 oh dear

pairing: reader x paul aron

warnings: fingering, smut, idk just the regular

word count: 2.6k... it was meant to be a blurb but nope

requested: yes !! requests are still open <3

author's note: felt good to write pa17 😚😚 his number has been jumping between 16 and 17 a couple of times now on the f2 website but i hope it stays as 17 because i love that number. i know i say this pretty much every time i write smut but like... this felt like the dirtiest thing i've ever written....... in hindsight, it wasn't that bad but like shdkfhdk i cringed so hard as usual. anyway. sorry to my estonian readers out there (looking specifically at you elle because you're the only estonian i know lol) for the short mention of the reader not speaking estonian. hope everyone enjoys tho <3

‎‎‎

waking up to an empty bed is one of the things you hate the most in the world. especially when you're supposed to be accompanied by your boyfriend, but he's mysteriously disappeared.

it's been a long week, the first one back to reality after a good winter break, so it takes you some time to wake up from your deep slumber. the sound of one-sided chatter from the kitchen is what finally wakes you up, the warming scent of coffee filling your nose instantly. your mind is so groggy that it takes you a little while to figure out that paul is on the phone with someone – and that the reason you can't understand him isn't that you're tired, it's because he's speaking estonian.

unwillingly, you force yourself out of bed once you understand that he isn't going to join you back in it anytime soon. you pull on a random oversized shortsleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants before going off to find him in the kitchen, his back turned against you as he leans onto the counter, speaking into the phone. paul turns around at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as you pull it back, taking a seat at the kitchen table. when he takes you in, a smile reaches his lips and he strolls over to you.

karl, he mouths to you as he points to his phone with his free hand – karl is probably going off about paul's winter break gym program for the tenth time this week, you assume – before letting his hand reach for your cheek instead. after his thumb brushes across your cheek a few times, he leans down to press his lips to your forehead.

then, he turns and walks back to the cupboards, pulling out two mugs and pouring some of the coffee he's been brewing into them. he balances his phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he picks up the mugs, carrying them over to you while letting out a string of confirmative sounds, seeming only mildly interested in what is being said on the other end of the line.

you accept the cup from him, both hands wrapping around it and feeling it warm up your fingers instantly. paul takes a sip of his coffee as he takes his phone into his other hand again, suddenly breaking out in a tangent that you understand nothing from. when paul slips down in the seat opposite you, your gaze shifts to look out through the window, watching the late sunrise leave its hues over the city below you. you've always loved morning moments like these, when there's no rush in the world, nothing to worry about, no reason to stress. it's always so easy to get lost in these moments, in the sound of birds chirping in the distance and the pink clouds flying away into the horizon.

but paul breaks you out of your trance. his free hand reaches for one of yours, removing it from your mug and instead intertwining your fingers with his. you smile subconsciously at the action, your eyes moving over to watch your laced hands. but when you do, you can't help but let your gaze wander.

you've always had a thing for his hands and arms. it's silly, you think, but there's something about it that makes you weak. when paul wears jewelry, it just contributes to your obsession – the silver rings and the pretty bracelets that he only takes off for racing make your heart flutter anytime you see them. and thinking about the pleasure those slender fingers of his bring you...

you would never tell him about it, though. sometimes, you think he must be the most oblivious man in the world for not noticing how you so often blatantly stare at his arms. but then again, he probably would tease you until the end of the world if he found out.

it's easy for you to get carried away by the sight of his arms. the way his fingers fit so perfectly between yours, the way little freckles and moles are scattered across his skin, the way the muscles in his forearm flex when he gives your hand a little squeeze. it's like time and the outside world doesn't exist: it's just you and paul. and his hands and arms.

paul has to call out your name twice to get your attention. when you finally snap out of it, his eyebrows are raised slightly and his lips are curved into a sly smile. "what are you doing?"

"n-nothing!" you let out instantly, although you know that he won't fall for it. you hadn't noticed him hanging up the call – you hadn't even started drinking your coffee yet. you had been too busy... admiring.

"really?" his hand lets go of yours, filling you with a disappointing feeling in just a second. but then, his fingers start grazing up and down the bare skin of your arm, from your wrist all the way up to the sleeve of your shirt. your eyes follow his hand without a single blink. "you seemed so focused, though?"

when his hand suddenly moves past your shoulder and his fingers make their way up to your neck, you can't help but gulp. your gaze slowly moves to the cheeky grin on paul's face as a shiver shoots down your spine. "no, i was just…" speaking gets harder and harder when he lets the pad of his pointer finger brush up along the side of your neck, touch ever so light but more than enough to throw the butterflies in your stomach into a fit.

paul tilts his head, eyebrows rising again. "just what?" he asks, feeling your escalating pulse when he lets his thumb run up the front of your throat. the way your body is physically reacting to him is so amusing to him – and enough to make his own heart begin to race. his thumb reaches your chin, and then travels further along your jaw, hand settling around your jawline. "you're really pretty, did you know that?"

your eyes flutter closed when his thumb caresses your pink-tinted cheek. he draws random shapes into your skin, little hearts and simple flowers, before slowly making his way to your lips. his thumb runs along it once, twice, and on the third time, it's like you act on instinct. suddenly, you've stuck your tongue past your lips, giving him a little lick. his movements stop and you take it as a sign, leaning your head forward just a little to invite his finger into your mouth.

you open your eyes again and you take in the sight in front of you. paul's jaw has dropped, eyes wide and zoned in on your lips. the corners of your mouth curve into a slight smile, completely loving his reaction, but you aren't done here. your tongue swirls around his thumb once, and paul's breath hitches in his throat. he almost pulls his hand away from you in pure shock – but then he lets his curiosity get the better of him, and he keeps it in place. he's far too intrigued to see how far you'll take this.

he merely blinks at you when you quicken the speed of your tongue, eventually even beginning to suck lightly on his thumb. he's completely lost in it now; in the way you're so innocently playing with him, your pretty eyelashes batting at him and your lips forming a slight pout around his finger.

has his pants suddenly gotten much smaller, or is he getting this hard already?

when you finally pull him out of you, he's completely speechless. you chuckle, deciding that maybe now it's your time to tease him. "you seem really focused, paul. what are you doing?"

he pauses for a moment, but then his lips crack into a cheeky grin. "oh, please," he starts. "don't pretend like you didn't enjoy that just as much as i did."

you want to interject, tell him about how he was quite literally flabbergasted until just a second ago, but he cuts you off.

"i knew you liked my hands, but… you like them that much?"

your own hands instantly come up to cover your face, wanting to hide the embarrassment that’s likely growing more and more obvious by the second. so he did know about your obsession all along? "paul-"

"no need to disappear," he interjects. suddenly, he's standing by your side, and in one swift motion, he's swooped you into his arms and carried you to the living room couch. you let out a yelp when he drops you onto it, but you're smiling at him when he removes your hands from your face. he grabs both of your shoulders, pushing you down slowly until your back hits the couch before climbing on top of you. "if you like them that much, let me use them to make you feel good."

he hovers over you for a second to see if there's any kind of hesitation in your face, but the way you look up at him tells him how much you want this. he doesn't waste any more time, immediately leaning down to lace his lips with yours. the sound you let out against him has been held back for long now and it gets him going instantly.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders for stability as his hands move down your body, one stopping by your hip while the other continues its journey under your shirt. his touch is so light it almost tickles you, and the coolness of his rings against your warm skin sends tingles through your body. his finger dips along the bumps of your ribs, all the way up to your breast. his thumb is still slightly wet with your saliva when it makes contact with your nipple, making your mouth slack against his.

there's no way you can focus on the kiss now; all of your thoughts are on his hands, and he can tell. he breaks the kiss and starts kissing along your jaw instead, his pecks sloppy as he concentrates on kneading your breast. the little sounds you let out when his finger flicks your nipple are like rewards to his ears. his hand that had been on your hip starts moving too, letting his thumb dip just below the hem of your sweatpants.

his head pulls away from your skin. "may i?" he asks, fingers pulling on the hem of your pants. when you don't give him an answer, too immersed in the feeling of his other hand still on your boob, he halts his actions. a chuckle erupts from his throat. "hey, listen to me."

what comes out of your mouth sounds more like a whine than words, but it's accompanied by a quick nod and he understands the meaning behind it. he snickers, pulling your sweats and panties down in one swift motion, your breath hitching as the cold air meets your already-soaked core. your entire body is waiting in anticipation, so eager and so needy that when he drags a finger along your slit, a shudder of pleasure passes through your body.

when paul looks up at you again to see how you're reacting, you have an arm draped over your eyes. he instantly frowns and stops his actions. "hey, i thought you liked watching my fingers?" he asks, and you nod impatiently. one of his hands reach up to grab your wrist. "well, then we can't have this. you need to be able to see my fingers as they work on you."

he pulls your arm away, and you meet his gaze the moment you open your eyelids. the look in his eyes almost takes you out there and then; the look of satisfaction, enjoyment, and just pure love makes you so thankful to have someone as good as this man, looking like there's nothing he'd rather do at nine in the morning than please you with his fingers.

when he notices how you're craning your neck just to catch a glimpse of him, he gets an idea. he sits up more properly again, reaching for two pillows behind him. you shoot him a questioning look, watching as he climbs over you again. then, he snakes an arm around you before propping you up on the pillows; a smaller one underneath your chest, and a bigger one under your head.

"there we go," he hums as he settles between your legs again. "that should make it easier, no?"

you don't have time to answer before you feel him teasingly brushing against your folds again. this time, you don't dare hide – and quite frankly, you don't want to, either. the view you have is far too good to look away from.

one of his hands wraps around the inside of your thigh to spread your legs, as the other hand's thumb draws circles on top of your clit, the little bud so sensitive already. when he finally slips a finger into your dripping core, you can't resist the urge to let your eyes roll back, feeling so good already. it doesn't take many pumps before he pushes another finger in you, too, spreading them apart and stretching you out fully. your hands grab the material of the couch below you, fists turning white as he speeds up his movements and adds yet another finger.

he pulls out a throaty moan from you when he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting just the right spot. you feel like you're reaching your limit already, and the way your breath is getting quicker and more high-pitched lets paul know just how close you are. when his free hand reaches down to play with your clit, you can't take it anymore, the orgasm washing over you instantly.

you really don't want to miss one more second of this, so you force your eyes open and look down. paul loves to hear you whining as you come, seeing your body shudder with the orgasm, and feeling you clench around him – especially when he's fucked you with just his fingers – and the prideful look spreading over his features is a sight to behold. when he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes flicker between his face and his hand pumping in and out of you, and you're sure it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

then, the view is outshined by what he does next. he pulls out of you, your slick covering his fingers. and after that, he pushes his fingers into his own mouth, cleaning them up and sucking them off like they taste better than his favorite meal. holy shit.

"that's..." you speak in between heavy breaths. "so... fucking... hot..."

"you're quite hot yourself," paul says, eyes just barely pulling away from your face to look down at his crotch. "like, do you see how hard i am? just from watching you?"

a weak giggle passes through your lips as you follow his gaze, impressed by the effect you apparently have on him. "want me to help you out with that?" you ask, raising your eyebrows with your suggestion.

"well, if you're offering..."

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tuiccim · 1 year

Text

Though I Have Never Read It

Pairing: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2756

Warnings: Angst, smut, Only one bed

Summary: You had run away from all of your problems and found solitude in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. When a storm blows in, it drags a man with a metal arm through your door. You offer shelter to the handsome stranger.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

Though I Have Never Read It Masterlist

You stoked the fire in your tiny cabin, well off the beaten path, in a sparsely populated corner of Estonia, you lived off the grid. Your home consisted of a fireplace, a tiny bathroom that used rainwater, a small bed, comfy chair, a table for two (though it was rarely used), and a shelf of canned and jarred food. You had chosen a solitary life after yours had turned to absolute shit. Escape had seemed to be your only option, and here you kept to yourself.

Glancing at the wood piled in one corner, you knew with this weather coming in, it would be best to bring in more logs to keep dry. Bundling up, you head out with a lantern and gather as many as you can carry. Back and forth you went in the frigid snow that had begun to fall. Kicking the door closed after your last load, you promised yourself a special treat from your stash.

You peel the layers off and head to lock the door before treating yourself. Just before you reach it, the door is kicked open and in stalks a tall man all in black. You back away quickly as he closes the door and locks it before recognizing your presence.

“Where am I?” He demands in Russian, removing his eye protection revealing incredibly blue eyes.

“Eesti,” you say in Estonian.

He nods and moves to crouch in front of the fire. You watch him warily. Where the hell did he come from? Why is he here? Who sent him? Had they found you? You couldn’t stand the silence and ask, still in Estonian, “What do you want?”

He turns his head to you slowly, studies you carefully, and surprisingly speaks in English, “Shelter.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart and attempt to come up with a plan. “Are you going to hurt me?”

He removes the mask from the lower half of his face, revealing a razor sharp jawline, but stays silent.

“Did you come here on purpose?”

“No.”

“Are you here for me?”

“No.”

“Do you want something from me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He looks at the floor and sighs heavily, “Shelter.”

“Shelter. That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lost?”

“Yes.”

“Is someone after you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hiding?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a blizzard coming in.”

“Yes.”

“You could be stuck here for days.”

He looks at you, surprisingly he seems unperturbed, just resigned. You take another breath and decide that compliance is probably your best bet here. You try a different tactic, “What’s your name?”

When he doesn’t speak, you give him yours and explain, “I’ve lived here for a few months.” When he still doesn’t engage, you continue, “I was going to make myself some dinner. I should have enough for you, too. I just need to get this pot.”

With slow movements, you pick up the pot from the hearth and put it on the hook, pushing it close to the fire. You continued slowly while he watched your every move. Grabbing a jar of soup from the shelf, you struggle to open it and when you still hadn’t managed it by the time you made it back to him, he held out his hand. You look at him in surprise. His eyes seem to soften, as if trying to convey his harmless intentions. You hold the jar out to him gingerly and he pops it open with little effort. Your fingers brush his gloved ones as he hands it back, making you shiver at the damp material. You pour the soup into the pot and push it over the fire to warm. Turning back, you study the man’s clothing and realize they’re wet from the snow. Grabbing towels and an extra blanket, you bring them to him.

“You need to get out of the wet clothes,” you say gently.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. He hadn’t moved from the spot by the fire and was beginning to shiver despite being so close to the source of heat.

You decide not to push. You knew you should still be frightened at what he might do but he seemed less like a scary intruder and more like a lost little boy. You set out two bowls, spoons, and cups. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, you pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and pour him a stiff drink. When the soup was ready, you served and gently said, “Come to the table. You need to eat.”

He moved, watching you with each step. You sat across from him and motioned to the whiskey, “This’ll help warm you up.”

You ate, staring at your bowl with an occasional glance up at him. Working up your bravery, you try to get him to talk again. “If we’re going to be stuck in here together, it’d be nice to have something to call you.”

He glances away as if searching for something before saying quietly, “Soldat.”

“You’re a soldier? Well, even soldier’s have names,” you try again.

You jump when he thumps his fist on the table, “I don’t.”

“Okay, okay. Soldat.” You hold up a hand placatingly, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from pushing one more time. “You don’t remember ever being called something else?”

He looked out into the darkness that had fallen outside, seeming to search for something, anything to grab on to. He shook his head as if warding off bad thoughts but then he whispers,”Ja- James?”

“James,” you smile. “Okay, James. Is the soup okay?”

He nods but the expression on his face betrays confusion. You finished the rest of the meal quietly, not wanting to overwhelm him. As you cleared dishes away, he sat still shivering. You told yourself to leave it alone but you also sucked at listening to yourself. You dragged your small bed closer to the fire and pulled back the covers.

“James,” you say gently. Your heart beats faster as his intense blue gaze meets yours. “You have to get out of those wet clothes. You’re never going to get warm if you don’t. Here, take this towel, dry off your skin, and get in the bed. I’ll wait in the bathroom. Just let me know when you’re done.”

“I-” he halts whatever was about to exit his mouth and instead gives a curt nod.

You use the bathroom, brush your teeth, and wait. When you hear a halting “okay” from the other room, you emerge. Picking the clothes up from where he had laid them over a chair, you spread them over the rods next to the fireplace to dry more efficiently. Without a second thought, you walked over to him and added another layer of blankets. He watched you, eyes following each movement.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you settled into your armchair, the only real luxury you gave yourself, and picked up your book. As you turned to your bookmarked page, he spoke.

“Aloud?”

“You want me to read out loud? Uh, sure,” you looked down at the well-worn copy, and turning back to the first page began reading, “This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.” You smiled as you glanced up to see his confused expression. “That’s the first line of the book. The Princess Bride by William Goldman.” You continue to read through Buttercup and Westley’s romance while occasionally looking to see James’ reaction. Most of the time there was none but occasionally a corner of his mouth would tip up or down as you went on. When he seemed to be drifting off and your eyes had begun to droop, you put the book to the side, threw another log on the fire, and turned out the oil lamp. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you settle in to sleep in your chair.

“No.”

Your head snaps up at the word and you turn to see James trying to get out of the bed. It was obvious he was in some pain and as he sat up you could see the bruises criss crossing his torso, then the mass of scars on his left shoulder that led to a metal arm. Your mouth fell open for a second before you realized what he was trying to say. You jump up to stop him.

“Hey. It’s fine. You need the bed more than I do.”

“No,” he insists.

“James! Stop,” you put your hand on his right shoulder to keep him in place but pull back when he gasps. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he looks up with such pleading in his eyes it nearly breaks your heart. “Please.”

Gingerly, you reach out to him again and it’s as if his whole body relaxes at your touch. You sit on the side of the bed and stroke the long locks away from his forehead, allowing you a full view of his face. He was incredibly handsome. His eyes slipped closed as you continued to gently run your hands through his hair. When his breathing became even and you thought he had fallen asleep, you pulled your hands away.

He started awake and stared up at you with wide eyes, “Stay.”

After a momentary hesitation, you slide into the bed and pull the covers over both of you. Much later, after he had been out for a while, you fell asleep with a hand still tangled in his hair.

–

The warmth of the sun shining down on you was glorious. You looked over at James chopping wood shirtless and smiled at him. When he grinned back your thighs clenched. He was outright the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He chopped one last log and then laid the ax down. He made his way to you and, rather than shy away, you grinned as he wrapped his arms around you. Your breathing picked up feeling him pressed against you, his cock already hard and rubbing against your middle. James moans causing you to…

…wake up. You realize that your dream was mirroring what was happening in your bed. James' arms were wrapped tightly around you and his hips flexed in rhythm. His moans were making your panties flood as you debate what to do. He shifts and his hard cock rubs directly against your mound eliciting a gasp from you. He stops, his eyes flying open and staring into yours. It was the fear in them that broke you. He looked terrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t know where he was or at what he had been doing but the only thought in your head was to soothe him. Tightening your arms around him, you arch to bring your bodies together and run a hand through his hair.

His tension melted away. Staring into each other, time seemed to slow down. Your breathing matched and your body seemed to tingle where it touched him. And then, he moved so quickly it made your eyes fly wide open as his mouth took yours. You were keenly aware of his nakedness in contrast to your clothed body when he rolled on top of you and his hips flexed. After a moment, his lips trailed down your neck and a desperate whisper slipped past his lips, a single word, “Please.”

You knew exactly what he’s asking and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time. The thoughts that went through your head were telling you how stupid this whole thing was and, alternatively, to throw caution to the wind for once in your life. He put a hand under your shirt, just enough to feel your bare skin and whispered please again. That solitary word made any resistance, any reason, any thought of stopping him disappear. Instead, you reach for your waistband and push it down as far as you can. His hands take over and get them below your knees.

You expect him to go fast, to take you in the same rushed way he had kissed you, but he doesn’t. He’s gentle and slow. He slides a hand between your legs and lets out a moan as his fingers explore. You hold on to him tighter and open your legs. When he guides the head of his cock to your entrance, he kisses you again while he slowly presses in. He swallows the whimpers you release as he buries himself inside of you. When he’s fully seated, he pulls back to look you in the eyes as he begins to softly thrust. You let out little gasps and moans as the pleasure builds.

“So good,” James’ voice is strained as he grinds right against your clit, determined to make you come before he loses himself. Every thrust is taking you closer and when you can feel the spasms beginning, you pull his face back to your neck. He wastes no time, sucking that soft spot just below your ear. You let out a moan that’s foreign to your ears as your orgasm rips through you. You clench down and James’ strokes come a little faster until he grunts at his own release. You lay together until your breathing becomes normal again.

James rolls to one side to study you before he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile at him before awkwardly reaching down to pull your bottoms back up. When you succeed, you slip out of the bed to hand him his clothes. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you get dressed.”

He nods and watches as you scurry to the tiny bathroom. You stare at yourself in the mirror, surprised that you still look exactly the same except the small mark on your neck. You use the bathroom and wash up. Determined to act normally, you decide to make breakfast and walk back into the main cabin. Glancing out the window, you see the snow that had fallen wasn’t as deep as you had worried. Looking over, James is dressed but he stands over the bed, staring at it. He glances up at you and then back at the bed. You see the small bloodstain on the sheets and hurry to snatch the covers over it. With knots in your stomach, you go to stoke the fire.

James watches you, “You-” He cuts himself off and when you finally look at him, his eyes are trained on the window.

“What is it?” you ask, watching his face fill with fear. When you finally hear the sounds of vehicles approaching, “James?”

He stares at you before jumping into action, “Get in the bathroom. No matter what happens, do not come out.”

He hadn’t spoken that many words since he showed up the night before and it scared him, “James, what’s happening?”

“They’re coming for me. Go!” He ushers you into the room but before closing the door, he looks at you with sadness and whispers, “Thank you. Stay here. Stay, no matter what.”

It was the tensest ten minutes of your life. You heard the cabin door open and slam shut, some muffled shouting from outside, and then silence. You were just about to peek out when you heard the door again. The sound of furniture being thrown and glass shattering has your heart racing, then the quiet invaded again. A fire crackling was all you could hear and as smoke began to seep under the door, your worst nightmare was confirmed. You try the door and it’s obvious that it had been blocked off. You panic for just a moment before wetting a cloth and covering your face as a makeshift filter. Looking around, you realize the only way out is the door. Using a piece of loose wood from the wall, you manage to get it through the sliver you open in the door. Using it as a wedge, you manage to get the door open wide enough to slip through. Your oil lanterns are shattered and the fire was nearly across the entire room. You grab a blanket near you and manage to climb out of the kitchen window. Looking around, it seems that James is gone along with whoever came after him. You run to your old but serviceable truck.

Turning back for one last glance, your cabin is already engulfed in flames. Your escape was gone. It must be true, you can't run from your problems. Time to return to New York and see if you can pick up the pieces.

Part Two

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