#...it's hard for me too sometimes. i had to not only build my manhood but jealously defend it from the 'phobes...

[uncanny-tranny]

The absolute biggest thing I've learned as a trans guy: there is nothing more masculine and manly than not caring about looking or acting masculine or manly. Growing your masculinity or manhood takes time and care - you have no obligation to let the world water your garden when you can do that just fine (and you can, even if it doesn't feel like you can!)

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #nonbinary #trans advice #got a stereotypically 'feminine/woman' piercing and. i feel like a man *inverted shania twain riff from man! i feel like a woman* #nothing affirms my manhood more than not caring about the genuinely toxic imaginings that the world has about manhood and men like me 👍 #yes it can be a struggle ESPECIALLY if you're somebody who actively has to defend your masculinity/manhood... #...it's hard for me too sometimes. i had to not only build my manhood but jealously defend it from the 'phobes... #...but i am all the better for it because this is MINE. i have never truly owned something in this way... #...i don't own other people nor my cats nor even my material possessions - not in the way i own my manhood... #...i own it like a tiger owns his territory and i defend it similarly... #...i do not WANT to own my loved ones or possessions the same as i own my manhood and masculinity. this is special to me #my manhood was *made* for me to be owned anyway. i feel that applies to every trans person who hasn't felt able to own themselves #this is in the same vein as learning to cast aside the cissexist views of bodies&experiences that can make dysphoria worae

[princecosmosanon]

hiiii! there's something i want to ask you about hearts on the mend but please don't feel obligated to answer it's okay if you don't want to. so my question is sokka seems ~ okay ~ with being an omega and a "wife and mother" obviously he's older than his canon counterpart and sokka in canon gets misogyny kicked out of him. but i can imagine it was hard for him to accept that he's an omega. so how was it for him? did he throw a tantrum maybe 😅

Oh this is an interesting question! :O most of the time people ask me why Zuko’s being an idiot (which, yeah, reasonable) but I’ve answers that question well enough I think lol

Okay, so, my thoughts are that canon Sokka got a lot of his original sexist thinking from when his father left home. Sure, there are certain gender roles in the SWT but a lot of those are due to their smaller numbers. It makes sense to ensure women stay safe as their survival would mean more children can be born, so they were often delegated to homesteading and childcare.

Then when Hakoda left he put a lot of responsibility on Sokka’s shoulders. He didn’t mean to burden his son with so much expectation and responsibility, but Sokka took it to mean he had to basically be stand-in chief during the men’s absence. This also gave him a heightened sense of superiority + a fuckton of anxiety regarding his role as “last man in the village” which led to his early canon thoughts on hardwired gender roles.

HOWEVER!! Regarding Hearts on the Mend…

Sokka never needed to take over as “last man” in this story. The warriors never left, and the war ended much earlier than canon. Thus, the other men were able to relax their hyper-vigilance and Sokka never developed a complex about his manhood. Katara was able to discern how to bend on her own (remember how canonically she starts figuring out waterbending before they even run into Aang? I don’t think kids without teachers generally manage even that level of control) so he didn’t have any reason to feel superior over her (and with their dad around he wouldn’t let Sokka tease Katara about her “water magic” once it started treading into disrespect.)

But another big reason is that… this is an omegaverse fic. It’s not just women who have children, Omega men can have kids too, so the same thought that only women *must* be protected to ensure tribe survivability doesn’t apply. Sometimes Omega are prioritized along with women (ensuring they eat and have shelter, etc, though the tribe always tries to ensure this is for everyone as much as possible) you can’t stop them from helping out however they can. The tribe needs all the help it can get with hunting, building shelters, entertaining, and child care, and again, as the warriors never left there wasn’t as much of a divide.

If Sokka ever had negative feelings about it, I would say he disliked how his heat takes him out of hunting parties and makes him feel sick for a few days after, plus being an Alpha would be cool because they’re generally considered the “stronger” of the dynamics. But he likes kids and doesn’t mind the idea of having them. He just never expected he would leave home before the story started so he’s not positive about how his experience as an Oma will be.

….

Canonically, Kanna left the NWT due to the stifling circumstances of being born a woman in a strict, patriarchal society. She found things a lot looser in the SWT and I feel it’s mostly stayed that way canonically. I really do think that Sokka only started thinking misogynisticly after his father left in canon, but that’s just my theory.

Thank you again for your question! I hope this answer satisfies you :3

#anon asks #hearts on the mend meta knowledge #hearts on the mend #sokka atla #sokka’s complex thoughts and feelings on gender #misogyny mentions

[hotdamnhunnam]

King Kink Arthur

A/N: So I’m tagging my whole tag list on this because — though the next fic coming up for my Kinkfest involves this savage sex god king slapping your face during sex and giving you a facial — this Part 1 is just a short sweet smut imagine that’s not too kinky at all, and I think it can be enjoyed by everyone in general! 🤗✨

Pairing: King Arthur x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, whore!reader being super eager to worship His Majesty’s cock Request: Kinkfest request from @turner-cris (but none of those requested kinks until Part 2; this Part 1 is just blowing him and swallowing his cum)

Word Count: ~1.5k

It’s not easy being king.

Sometimes it’s exceedingly... hard.

Arthur has a grand battle to fight on the morrow and needs to be thoroughly rested come morning. So you shouldn’t start. You really shouldn’t start... really, truly shouldn’t... a respectable queen really wouldn’t... but how can you not, when your king is an absolute sex god, apparently having some wild wet dream that is tearing his body apart?

It’s impossible not to look down at the raging hard bulge in his crotch. Sweat gathers on his brow and on yours as you watch. A respectable queen wouldn’t reach out and touch. As ever on the eve of a war, you and Arthur were fucking like animals hours before, making love hard and rough till you both fell asleep—but the sleep that follows must be uninterrupted and deep. Such are King Arthur’s orders. And any respectable queen would obey them of course.

... But you’re not just his queen. You’re much less and much more: his filthy fucking whore, as you always have been.

Queen Y/N is indeed impeccably respectable in general. Such as when you check in on him at the Round Table, to give him a chaste little kiss while he tends to his business. Or when you and he preside over the throne room beside one another, your throne just as noble as Arthur’s—aside from that one time he savagely fucked you in it. Still respectable as there was nobody else there to witness.

Respectable when circumstance calls for it.

When it doesn’t... well, rather the opposite.

When you take on your role as King Arthur’s sack of fucking holes, then his cock is the only damn thing you respect, to be honest. It’s perfect. Always fills you so full, leaves you utterly wrecked. Not a moment goes by you don’t desperately want it. Your purpose in life is to fuck it and suck on it. Worship and serve it.

His Majesty writhes on the bed; you can only hope thoughts of you swim through his beautiful head. “Unghhh—ugh, shit,” he grunts through gritted teeth, grinding into the sheets beneath, hands balling into fists. “Fuck, Y/N... such a filthy little bitch... ughh, fucking hell...”

Well, that’s it—a respectable queen would resist, but oh well. 

Fuck respectable.

Every throb of his massive cock, hard as a rock, fucking beckons; you’re in position in a matter of seconds. Settled in between his legs, face level with his staff so proudly erect. If he weren’t asleep now you would beg.

He’s an absolute wreck, sweat dripping down the tendons of his gasping neck, and looks so fucking gorgeous you cannot stop staring. Whatever nonsense he is wearing, you’re so beyond caring. Rip his pants open so that his glorious scepter can finally stand freely. Arthur typically loves sleeping naked, when you both collapse after he fucks you dead. But the night before battle, he says, he feels vulnerable, if he’s sleeping undressed. It’s adorable, really.

It also prevents you access to his assets... in theory. Shielding his manhood, so your wandering hands won’t attack it and get him distracted, when he needs to rest. He can sleep peacefully, in theory.

But theory doesn’t count for shit, clearly.

Through the thin cloth of his shirt you can still see the rippling muscles of his abs. He has one hand upon his stomach, grasping at the sweat-damp fabric, fingers trembling as he grabs... You gaze up lovingly at him as you prepare to work your magic, give your king the best damn head he’ll ever have.

One hand encircling the base of his enormous shaft, fist tightly wrapped, you moan in pleasure at just how heavy Arthur feels within your grip. How much you love this piece of meat you live to worship. Live for this...

“My king...” you murmur in devoted bliss. On instinct those soft-spoken words slip from your parted lips, now pressed against the sweet wet tip, tenderly squeezing and releasing in a slow passionate kiss.

“F-fuuuck—” he groans out, long and loud, as your lips tighten on the head of his majestic cock, and then begin to suck. “My queen...”

He’s still deep in the throes of sleep, it seems, as you look up to see his eyes shut in the ecstasy of dreams. Already he is bursting at the seams. So lovely you could weep. The sight of him like this, the heights of bliss to which your service takes His Royal Highness... the most stunning thing you’ve ever fucking seen.

It’s good to be the fucking queen.

But even more, it’s good to be his fucking whore.

You could spend all your life, as his dutiful wife, worshiping this beautiful cock you so adore. Cannot believe your luck that this sweet privilege is yours. All fucking yours...

Bouncing your head rhythmically up and down, you pause at each upstroke to sweep your tongue along the crown, swirling deliciously around. Moaning as you savor his taste, drunk on the feeling and the flavor, reeling from the perfect pleasure as his hips start bucking up toward your face. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding your head in place right there. As if the queen would ever dream of going anywhere.

For Arthur, now the line between waking and sleep seems to have blurred—the length of his cock throbs and thickens, as his breathing halts then quickens, hips rocking ever more vigorously upward. Your open throat takes him down ever farther, as the fire in his loins burns hotter, raw desire riding ever higher, heavier and harder...

Builds and builds, till time stands still. You fucking live to take all that he has to give and always will. Body and soul a gaping hole just waiting to be filled, with all the precious royal seed he has to spill.

“My love—Good Lord, you fucking whore—I am all fucking yours—you filthy little cunt...” he huffs, for at the peak of passion Arthur is savage and soft, romantic and rough, all at once, “Y/N... fuck—unghhh...”

Then with a low lust-driven grunt, he forcefully explodes straight down your throat, pumping his queen full of his load, giving you everything you want. His kingdom comes so fucking strong. So smooth and sweet upon your tongue. You moan in pleasure as you feel this mighty piece of meat erupting in your mouth so fucking stiff and thick and long. Pulsing with the effects of post-orgasmic magic even long after he’s done.

The king may have directed you to let him sleep tonight, but everything about this moment feels so fucking right. Nothing about the way you worship him could possibly be wrong...

His bright blue eyes finally flutter open, just as you were hoping, once he comes to conscious terms with what has happened. That it wasn’t just imagined. 

He was half-asleep through all of that. Now wide awake as he realizes that it was no dream, no matter how fantastically unreal it may have seemed. His mortal mind barely believes the ecstasy he just received, the best release he’s ever had. He sighs and heaves as the sensations coursing through his body drive him fucking mad.

You kiss him softly through the aftershock, your warm wet lips showering love upon his legendary cock. You can tell your king never felt so fucking fucked.

Now that he has awoke... despite the order that you broke, you hope and trust he knows it was an act of love. You hope he isn’t too pissed off. Mayhap come morning as he rides off into war, he will draw strength from your service the night before; mayhap he’ll find it brings him luck.

It’s not as if you can be blamed for what you’ve done. The dream that was wracking his frame before you even intervened... clearly the king needed to cum, and who should take it but his queen? He will have you to thank tomorrow once the battle has been won.

Or so you tell yourself at least. To bring your inner slut a sense of purpose, pride, and peace.

Meanwhile Arthur is still reeling from the force of his release. His sculpted chest heaves with the heated air he breathes. He needed this, and to provide your king with what he needs... you couldn’t be more pleased.

A respectable queen may have let her king sleep through the night just as he had commanded.

But fuck that. Fuck respect—how could you have done as he directs, when his cock was so fucking erect, and so perfect you can’t even stand it...?

You couldn’t have. Shouldn’t have, wouldn’t have. There’s no way you could ever resist worshiping his magnificent shaft. Surely Arthur will understand that.

You’re the queen that he loves and adores—and yet deep down, in spite of your regal respectable crown... you’re much less and much more: the cocksucking slut who is fated forever to serve as King Kink Arthur’s filthy fucking whore.

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

The End... *UNLESS* you’re interested in the kinks in this request, in which case, continue to Part 2!!

Either way, hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did!! 🤗❤️

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[mosshead-lover]

Hey Bau<3. Hope you doin well. LOVE your MHA hc's and one shots. <3 Saw that you write for Shoto and Katsuki. So I heard a RP audio on soundC. All be playin 7 minutes in heaven thing. Sho & Baku get in to a fight about who the bottle landed on, cuz clearly they both want to be locked in with the reader. Would love if you built a smut on this. PLEASEEE. With valentine's day coming up, could really use some kink. lol. Although, I totally understand if you don't wanna write a 3some.

A/n: Firstly, Thank you💞. You guys know how to make my day!✨ Secondly, writing this took such a toll on me! I had such a hard time shifting from one to other. And you played the Valentine's day card. I had to write🥺 (jk, keep em those requests coming over, XOXO) Hope you enjoy reading it. And, A happy Valentine's Day!💝 🥰

The Third Way Out

~ Bakugou & Shoto x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Threesome, lil swearing etc

Disclaimer: All the characters are aged up. They are NOT high schoolers in the context. Also, any underage readers, Shoo! Shoo!

For the safety of its students, the UA university had quarantined all the hero students in the Institution, rather than sending them homes. Especially the ones from UA High, who had a history of running right into trouble. Out of boredom, your class decided to play Seven minutes in heaven game. The typical bottle spin and people at the ends of the bottle point to will be locked in a closet for seven minutes and, you know the rest. It was all steamy and exciting till one end of the bottle landed on you and the other, between Shoto and Katsuki. Usually, Shoto would give in to Bakugou. It was just a game, after all. But, to everyone’s surprise, he kept fighting. Then, you were asked to pick one for the sake of ending the fight. Since you failed to decide, the rest called it a day and left for their dorms.

The next day...

You were just out of a refreshing shower after a run, drying your hair when you hear a knock on the door.

”It’s open!” You affirm, loud enough for the person at the door to hear.

”Hey!”

As the door flung open, You saw a familiar face, half-covered with the bi-coloured bangs. The usually composed Shoto was a little fidgety. He kept his face low, avoiding eye contact.

”Hi Sho, what brings you here?”

You try to sound normal suppressing the last night's memories.

'He must be feeling embarrassed about dragging a petty fight,'

you thought but, you hadn't made it any better by not picking one. So, you were equally embarrassed.

"I.." Shoto was about to state his reason and,

"You there?" Katsuki barged into your room, banging the already wide-open door. His mood was further clouded when he saw Shoto.

”What the fuck are doing here!?”

”I could ask you the same.” Shoto replied calmly, though it was evident from his face that he reflected Katsuki’s feelings. You sensed a familiar knot in the gut. You were once again in a dilemma that you couldn't get out of.

"I guess you have pick one of us, after all," Bakugou stated in a low voice, ignoring Shoto. You wore a confused look.

"The game... We left it unfinished." Shoto clarified.

"Oh!" You threw the towel on the bed and tiptoed towards the door, where they stood. You indicate them get in, close the door and lean against it as you spoke.

"Do I have to?" You tilt your head sideways, letting your damp hair fall over your shoulder. It took a second but Shoto spoke up once he processed what you meant.

"I guess I would enjoy watching you get destroyed as much as I enjoy doing it myself!" the corners of his lips curving into a devious smirk as he spoke.

Your face was a few inches away from Shoto's. You put your arms over him as he slowly starts sucking on your lips. You groove to his pace, feeling his silky hair. He ran his hands up & down the curves of your waist as if appreciating the feel of a forbidden art piece. You suddenly feel another firm grip on your hip. You were turned around in one swift pull. You close your eyes in response to your partially damp hair hitting your face before settling down. When you opened your eyes, you saw Bakugou, wetting his lower lip, not taking his eyes off you.

"He's not the only one here, Kitten!"

He pulls you closer and starts kissing you coarsely. You were bearly catching up with his kisses, you could feel Shoto squeeze your buttocks from behind, subtly grinding. Katsuki slides his hands inside your tee, feeling your bearskin. You lift your arms, making it easier for him to take the shirt off. Your lips part as the shirt went up to fall on the ground. You turn a little, reaching for Shoto's face, stroking his cheek and running your forefinger down his adam's apple to the first button of his shirt. You completely turn to Shoto, planting a few more kisses, sliding your tongue in. He does the same. Katuski unhooks your Lacy golden bra and graces his teeth on you bareback, moving up to your neck. He impatiently moves your hair to the other side to access the neck and starts sucking as Shoto helps you get rid of the unhooked bra and gets himself busy with your boobs, squeezing, nibbling and sometimes just feather-light strokes. It was kind of hard for you process everything that was happening yet you were enjoying it. You felt over the moon to have undivided attention from not one but both the guys you absolutely adored and dreamt of day and night. You were going to ensure they have fun too. You start unbuttoning Shoto's shirt. Once done, you take your hands back, to adore his chiselled abs. Shoto takes his arms off you to let you strip his shirt. While you were getting drunk on the view, Katsuki takes you in his strong arms, walks over to your study table and sets you down. You couldn't help but notice the growing hardness under his pants. You smile at how he was all riled up for you, not that Bakugou didn't like getting hard for you. He lets out a grunt of pleasure as you reach for his core, taking your time to feel his clothed manhood. Your other hand reaches for Shoto who now stood next to Bakugou. You take his hand and guide it your cunt. He slides a finger between your lower lips over your panties. You bite your lip at how awesome it felt even with the piece of cloth in between. Pleased, Shoto continues to tease you. It felt as though he was just letting you know the taste of your own medicine. You quickly unzip Katsuki's pants to reveal his massive hood.

"There, Do you see what you do to us? " Katsuki whispers in your ears. His voice was as sexy as ever.

"Our little slut is sure capable of building massive things" Shoto comments, half impressed at Katsuki's and impatient get his own out of the suffocating pants. Katsuki rubs his wood against your wet yet clothed cunt as you free Shoto out of his misery. The way Katsuki's tip slid over you clit was torturous indeed. You couldn't wait to get rid of the obstacle. You take his harness in your hand and start stroking, varying the paces, learning from his reactions. While you were at it, Shoto gets rid of your panties. He fingers you as though taking a dip in a sauce and licks his finger off.

"Ummm. You sexy thing!" He marvels at how wet you were and bends down to work his tongue on your pussy. Although, You lost control, gasped and even clenched your free hand whenever Shoto hit the right spots. You got always got back to jerk Katsuki off. You had to give in when you started hitting the peaks. Katsuki and Shoto now took turns eating you up & fingering while the other busy stimulating your other sensitive parts. Initially, you kept tab of who was down on you as the other explored the rest of the body but, you were bearly able to recall your name when you came let alone know whose face you came on. You were driven crazy with all the over-simulation. You moaned and breathed heavily, trying to calm down your body but, your core was even hotter and wetter, painfully empty.

You see Shoto settling down on the chair nearby.

"Come on Bakugou, Do the honours."

Shoto says.

"Too scared to go first?" Bakugou smirks.

"I just want to enjoy the show and let her show the best is saved for the last," Shoto replies, gently stroking himself, as though showing off his weapon.

"F...Fuck me" You let out a desperate scream.

"Just anyone...Fuck me already!" You continue, pleading.

"Tch" Shoto and Bakugou huff unanimously.

"You are in deep trouble, kitten!" Bakugou fills you, granting you the much needed. Shoto ended up enjoying you two fuck more than he had expected to, he too ended up coming as you two reached the climax. It didn't take him much time to get back a boner, looking at your dripping pussy and the way you lay there, anticipating his cock. It was Katsuki's time to step back. You were experiencing the best way out of your dilemma. The usual over-thinking you couldn't think of anything out of what was happening right then and how thrilled every inch of your body was.

--

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[majesticbrownjawn]

Delicate Part Two

Part One

Violet reluctantly goes to a house party with her bestie. Meets Erik. Is subsequently turned out. 😩

———————————

"The fuck you doing up here, babygirl?!" There was a look of confusion and remorse in his eyes.

The way he asked his question was scary up until the 'babygirl' part.

"I-I...I thought you wanted me to follow you." Her breath was incredibly short and she needed to minute—or maybe 20, to get herself together.

"Sit cho ass down." He pointed to an empty spot on a desk behind him. She climbed onto it, still out of breath, and watched him closely as he bent down below her. When his hand went towards her neck, she flinched.

"Chill." He grabbed Violet's chin and pushed it upwards, examining her. He could see the redness around her neck that his actions caused. He gently rubbed the area.

"I’m sorry bout that...Delicate ass."

"Excuse me? You just choked me."

"You shouldn't have been in my workroom snooping around. I didn’t know it was you.”

Her eyes bulged at him.

"Yea. This my shit. This my house. Told you yo ass wasn't as smart as you thought."

"You make computers? You must be...uh,"

"Smart," he finished. She smiled at him nervously. "Surprised you ain't running away."

He turned and walked to the corner of the room where a full-size fridge sat. It was an old school one that was a powder blue color. Had to be from the 70s. She watched as he grabbed a pack from the freezer and filled it with ice. She didn't realize her neck was on fire until he was heading back to with it.

He stood between her legs and placed it on her neck in one of the spots he grabbed. Violet winced in pain.

"Humph. Delicate."

"Don't call me that. I'm not delicate."

She looked at him suspiciously as he continued examining her.

"Like what you see babygirl?" He asked his question without looking up to see she was looking at him. She was staring though.

"No."

Of course I like what I see, you fine ass, homicidal nigga.

Shit.

More sirens.

"Why'd you do that to me?"

His nostrils flared and the air he let out through his nose ricocheted off her cheek and back in his direction.

"Thought you were tryna rob me."

"But even after I said your name, you still..." she absentmindedly rubbed the side of her neck he didn't have the ice on.

"Sometimes I just blackout. I don't know why," he shrugged. He studied her face and saw the fear in it, but more than that he saw curiosity and pity.

"I'm sorry. For real."

His repeat apology was unexpected but appreciated.

"It's fine. Just don't put your hands on me again—unless I ask you to," she joked.

"Oh word?" The slight raise of his brow was so sexy to her. "So what you saying is I can't touch you like this?" He pressed his fingers into her back, pushing her closer to him.

"No. Not without my permission."

"What about this?" His thick fingers gripped her upper thigh where her dress had risen up.

"You still didn't really ask."

She was leaning into him, hoping he didn't stop the path his hand was on. Violet had never been more attracted to anyone in her life. He was a mystery and every moment with him was absolutely thrilling. She'd already done things for him in the last hour that she'd never done—like lick her fingers on command or follow a stranger up a flight of stairs, into a dark hallway, only to be choked to the point of being turned on.

"Can I?" E bit his plump bottom lip, while his hand hovered just over Violet's hot cavern, her legs already spread wide. She looked down to see just what he was referring to and gulped slowly before replying.

"Yes... please."

His hand quickly reached into her amethyst-colored lace boy shorts. He was eager to see how wet she was for him.

"Damn, girl. I guess you do like what you see."

She was currently looking at his forearm as she held on to it, trying to stay upright on the table. Violet briefly looked up at him with the same curiosity she had earlier, asking him the history behind his scars without saying a word. He answered silently, shaking his head no. The number his fingers were doing on her distracted her enough not to care that he was unwilling to tell her about his scarring. She sank her nails deep into his wrist when he slid two digits inside her. Violet's face was so twisted up that he couldn't tell if she was enjoying his fingers gliding in and out her pussy.

"You aight?"

"Umph, ye-yea. Don't stop."

Her hips whined into his fingers as she laid back on the table to enjoy the moment. He smiled, knowing he had her right where he needed her—open and horny as hell. Her head popped up in surprise when she felt the soft pressure of his lips against her clit.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," was all she could say as he sucked on her bundle of nerves while using his fingers to pleasure her. She was seeing spots and was amazed she hadn't cum all in his mouth yet.

E was amazed he was actually eating this chick out—a woman whose name he didn't even know. It's not that he didn't like eating pussy—he loved doing that shit. Something about seeing a woman unravel just by a flick of his tongue got him off. His dick was painfully hard watching her squirm and wiggle with computer parts scattered on the desk around her. He hated to admit it, but his dick was hard the moment he saw the way she judged him. Breaking a girl like her down would be a challenge and nothing made his third leg jump more than a challenge. Still, of all the many partners he'd had in his life, he could count on one hand the number of women who had the pleasure of receiving head from him. They usually catered to him and then we’re ready to fuck.

Despite his mouth doing his best work on her, she hadn't cum yet and when he looked up, he could tell she was trying to hold it off. He watched her grasp for something--anything on the table to keep her orgasm from coming and it pissed him off.

"The fuck? Are you trying not to cum?"

She didn't answer, only looked at him pleadingly. He could see she wanted to cum badly but didn't want to give him the satisfaction, even though she willingly opened her legs for him.

"Aight, you better cum on fucking tongue by the time I count to five or I'm going to get one of my girls from downstairs to handle this." He grabbed his dick and stroked it through his gray sweats as he continued eating her out. She sat up on her elbows and watched his manhood grow and grow. Her mouth watered watching his strong hand pass back and forth over it, distracting her until it was too late.

"Four..."

She was close and had been for a while. The build-up was starting to become too much, but she knew she didn't want to cum on his mouth.

"Fi—"

"Wait!" the urgency in her voice startled her. She held him by his ears and what she said next had him momentarily shook.

"I wanna cum on your dick, E. Fill my pussy up and make me cum you hard... please." She sounded and looked so innocent, as if anything she just said was even close to that.

He was at a loss for words, stunned at her change in behavior. His dick was at full attention, but he had to teach this girl a lesson and show her who was in control. If she obeyed him and her pussy was as tight and gushy as it felt around his fingers, he'd fuck her fluffy ass into next week.

"C'mere."

Violet got up when told and followed him back out into the hallway, her underwear dragging behind her around her wobbly ankle. Her entire being was focused on him, so much so that the blaring music didn't sound as loud as it had before. E stood in front of the banister that overlooked the sea of partyers below. His eyes motioned for her to stand against the railing, so she stood there and waited for his next order.

"So you want this dick, huh?" She could feel him pressed up against her ass. His dick on her made her pussy throb so good. Violet needed him inside her badly. She had a fleeting feeling of shame come over her. Here she was a grown-ass woman, acting like a horny teenager at a party about to hook up with the jerky quarterback, simply because he'd given her touch-deprived self a little attention. But the feeling was fleeting. The sirens in her head were gone, too easily replaced by the thumping sound of her pussy.

He grabbed the front of her neck and pulled her closer.

"Answer me," he groaned.

"Yes, I want it." Violet's pussy lips were heavy with desire, desperate to suck him up inside her until she had her fill.

E had already started to put the condom on, being just as excited to get his dick wet up with her essence as she was to get stuffed with said dick. She gasped not only because of how fast he entered her after giving her consent but because of the sheer size of him. It had been a minute for her, but she jumped right back in the saddle, curving her hips like she'd done with her dildo, fucking E right back and using him to reach those spots inside her that drove her pupils to the back of her head.

He recognized what she was doing and smiled into her hair, grateful she knew how to fuck. He closed his eyes for a moment and let himself get lost in the rhythm of her pussy wrapped firmly around his dick. He could go all night with her like this. His hand unconsciously snaked around her front and under her dress, squeezing each of her fat mounds. He loved tits as much as he loved ass, and having her ass rippling against his abs with his fingers around her nipples was fucking incredible.

E opened his eyes, not wanting to relinquish too much control to her and was immediately reminded of the party—his party, happening below them. He wanted to remind her too, not so that she'd keep her moans down, but to show her how open he had her.

"Look at your bougie ass, letting me dig you out in front of all these people."

Violet opened her eyes and quickly peered into the crowd. They seemed to be in their own world down there. A couple off in a corner looked like they were about to engage in activity similar to what she and E were doing. She excused her unusual behavior in her head, telling herself they weren't actually 'in front' of the party attendees, but rather, above. The music was so loud that she was sure no one could hear her cries of ecstasy, at least that's what she hoped.

And the only way someone would know what they were doing was if they looked up.

Like one of E's homeboys was doing right now.

Violet must not have seen him, because E was sure seeing him would have snapped her out of the spell he'd carefully put her under. The nigga was watching her so hard that he didn't peep E had caught him lurking or notice the scowl on his face. E usually wouldn't give a damn, but the fact that he didn't like his boy looking at her made him fully aware of the sudden jealousy he felt for her.

E pulled out and turned them so his back was to the crowd below. Not missing a beat, he hoisted her up and gripped her big thighs, controlling how hard and fast his dick entered her. She held on to him around his neck and he whispered "Pretty ass eyes," to her before she kissed him sloppily and rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed in that position for a while, her in awe of the power of his strokes and him amazed at how good her body felt wrapped around him.

"Fuck, baby. This pussy..."

"OMG E," her words were so soft in his ear.

"You got a nigga feeling special. Yo shit always this warm?"

He could feel her tightening around him with each word of encouragement and each thrust he gave. His sole mission became fulfilling her request of making her cum hard on him.

"I feel you sucking my dick deep in that pussy. Shit feel good don't it?"

All she could do was whimper.

"You ready to cum, babygirl?" He felt her grip tighten even more. Her pussy was the one doing all the talking now.

"Go 'head and cum on me. It's okay, baby. Cum on this dick like you said you would."

Violet let out a scream that almost startled him. He'd never heard a woman make a noise like that and it made him want to hear it again, except with his name on her lips. He came hard too, to the point that he had to take a few steps forward and press her back against the wall to keep him from dropping her. He hadn't had a nut like that in a long time and he knew he had to have her again. E was ready for that action, but she pushed him off of her and hurriedly tried to straighten herself up. He followed her eyes and saw his best friend Devante coming up the steps with someone.

"There you are, girl. I was looking all over for you," Violet said. E chuckled at how shaky her voice was. Her attempt to act normal after getting fucked down was laughable.

"Were you?" the woman with Devante replied sarcastically.

"Uhh, E, this is my best friend, Trina." Violet didn't miss the way her girlfriend ogled him. He was fine and certainly deserved a second look, but Violet didn't appreciate how long she studied him.

But wait. This nigga was a literal fuckboy, who had just fucked her on a banister. Why was she worried about another woman looking at him? Her best friend of all people.

"What the fuck?!" E yelled suddenly, pointing into the crowd below.

As Violet, Trina and Devante looked frantically to see what he was yelling about, E squatted down and grabbed Violet's ankle, lifting it just enough to slip her lace underwear from around her foot. She gave him a confused look as he slipped them into his pant pocket and smirked.

They all looked at him for an explanation.

"My bad. I thought I saw my baby moms."

"Nigga you ain't got no kids," Devante replied.

"Anyway," he said, brushing off being called out on his terrible cover-up. "Y'all want some drinks? I know you want some Henny, babygirl." He cockily placed his arm around Violet and used his body weight to propel them forward a few paces. He was surprised when her feet stopped moving.

"I think I'm ready to go, Trina." She spoke without addressing him. The sirens were back, along with her conscience and they were screaming, 'We told you so!' She could think clearly now that she wasn't so horny, but Violet knew the longer she remained in his presence, the more susceptible she'd be to his charm. He was so overbearing and dominant and it scared her that she wanted to be submissive to him. To bend to his will and please him, even if it meant letting him have her any place he desired. He took control not of just her body, but her mind too—challenging her perspective and outlook. And she'd only known him two hours.

Good dick and brains.

A lethal combination.

She knew she had to get away from this E character expeditiously, so she flew down the steps, leaving Trina behind to decide if she would stay or not.

"You leaving without saying bye?" She hoped he wouldn't catch her, but somehow she knew he would. He was holding on to her forearm, back out on the porch where they met just hours before. She huffed, frustrated that this nigga had her running back to her car.

"I guess so," he laughed. "What's your name?"

Violet further stiffened in his grasp.

"So you don't want to tell me your name, huh? It's cool. I like to name my girls anyway."

Violet turned to face him abruptly.

His girls? The fuck was this, an episode of Flavor of Love?

But it made sense, actually. There's no way he could look like he looked and fuck like he fucked and not have a few 'girls.' She suddenly recalled him referring to getting one of his girls to finish the job when she wasn't cumming fast enough for him.

"Think I'll give you a flower name, since you all delicate and shit." She bit her lip and watched him think, acutely ashamed she was curious about what name he'd come up with for her.

E placed his hands in his pockets and rubbed his fingers against the fabric of her lace undergarment. It was soft, and fragile. Delicate--like her. As he thought of a name he was reminded of the color of the negligee intertwined with his fingers. They were a deep purple, like the color of his favorite African perennial.

"Aight, I got it."

She looked up into his eyes, her fingers sweeping across his raised forearm.

"Imma call you Violet."

——

Tags:

@queenflaws

#black women #killmonger smut #erik killmonger fic #killmonger x black!reader #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger #killmonger x oc

[tenthgrove]

L'inizio- A La Squadra Backstory Collection

Chapter 3: Due Cuori (Sorbet & Gelato Part 1)

Word Count: ~3800

Warnings: parental abandonment, homelessness, mildly-suggestive behaviour

The young boy sobs into the bag he’s carrying as he flees down the dark, damp street. The quick-paced footsteps of his pursuer sound loudly as they smack against the wet concrete. The boy prays for some rain to cover the sounds of his panting and running, but he knows such luck will not be afforded to him.

He is out of his depth in this part of Naples. Not yet 14, he’s one of many such young fools who thought it would be easy to snatch a little money from one of the smaller street gangs that roam this part of the town, making the crucial mistake of thinking ‘smaller’ was synonymous with less relentless. The boy has barely a moment to comprehend the dead end ahead of him before he is knocked sharply around the back of his head and sent reeling to the floor.

“Where the hell is my money, you shit?!” the angered man interrogates him sharply. He rears a clenched fist ready to strike him again, and the boy cowers against the wall.

“It’s there! Right there!” he shrieks desperately, pointing at the back dropped at his side. The man spits. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun. “I swear Signor! The money’s there!” the boy pleads, his voice hitching in mortal terror. The man scoffs venomously.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Two shots ring out, but they aren’t aimed at the boy. The man’s blood splashes over him as he chokes on it, falling to the ground without a word. The boy counts two wounds on the man’s back.

The figure at the end of the alleyway lowers his gun and begins to approach. He is somewhere on the boundary between boyhood and manhood, perhaps about 18, at a first guess. He is darkly dressed, with hair to match, and he returns his weapon to his pocket with a detached smoothness that suggests great experience with the murderous act. He leans over the boy and picks up his bag, smiling in satisfaction at the wad of cash crudely jammed inside. He zips the bag up and hauls it over his shoulder.

“Grazie,” he thanks him, turning away and beginning his journey back down the alleyway.

He does not walk far before he reaches his destination- a small house in a densely packed row just a street away. He knocks calmly, and the door soon opens.

“Ah, Sorbet,” the responder answers. “I thought I’d heard gunfire.”

“’Evening Gabriele,” he greets him, sorting off some of the money in his hands. “20,000 lire says I can stay the night.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Gabriele agrees with a small chuckle. “Come right in, friend.”

Sorbet removes his jacket and seats himself down on the sofa, shuffling the bag protectively behind his legs. He takes off his own bag as well and pilfers through to find the chewing gum he’s been saving for this evening.

“May I ask how you still haven’t found a place of your own? Surely you must be rolling in it from all that blood money you’ve got lately. Hell,” he remarks, eyeing the money poking out from behind Sorbet’s lap. “You could probably sort yourself out for a couple months on that alone.”

“You can certainly ask,” Sorbet answers apathetically.

“Well?”

Sorbet looks at him contemplatively before deciding he’s in the mood for compliance tonight. He leans back.

“To put it simply I’ve just been out of it too long. ‘Don’t have my birth certificate, ‘don’t have any documents of that sort. I left home at 14 and frankly I’d be shocked if I wasn’t legally dead by now. Well, assuming my mum was ever lucid enough to do the paperwork, that is.”

“You could rent a flat from the gang. They’d hardly say no to you,” Gabriele suggests.

“Not really a fan of that sort of obligation, Gabe,” Sorbet refutes him. “Besides, the quote on quote ‘buildings’ the gang owns get busted by the cops all the time. I hardly wanna deal with that at 1 in the morning.”

“True,” Gabriele snorts. A knock sounds at the door. “Who the fuck at this time of night?” he gripes.

“No idea, but have fun with them,” Sorbet says, getting to his feet. “I’m off to help myself to your shower,” he announces, departing up the stairs. Gabriele answers the door.

“H-Hello,” the newcomer greets. It’s another teenager, with messy blond hair and a sky of freckles. He shivers into his thin jacket, hand red-raw from clutching his heavy bag. “Are you Gabriele?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Gabriele says with scrutiny.

“My name is Gelato, sir. You don’t know me, but I know a friend of yours from Florence, well, small village outside of Florence, I’m sure you know which one I mean. I heard from him you wanted to get someone to do errands for you and well, I was wondering if I could do that for you,” the boy offers. There’s a wild look in his desperate green eyes, and Gabriele knows this won’t end quickly for him.

“Kid, that was weeks ago! What the hell took you so long?” he asks.

“It’s not my fault I had to walk here!” Gelato protests. “Look, I got kicked out by my parents, I’m only 17 and if you don’t help me I’ll have nowhere to go!” he pleads.

“That’s rough and all, but the job’s closed. Go find a shelter or something.”

“PLEASE!” Gelato begs. He’s trembling, but there’s a touch of anger in his eyes as he glares at him that makes Gabriele mildly scared to turn him down.

“Look, I have neither the need nor the money for another errand boy right now. But, now I think of it I do know a guy who needs someone to manage a bar for him. Make no mistake, it’s nothing more than a meet-up spot for the gang so don’t expect anything fancy, but I think it has a flat upstairs. Maybe you can ask to move into the place as your pay.”

“A bar? That’s perfect!” Gelato enthuses. “Thank you thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m happy for you. Now If I go give the guy a call will you please piss off?” Gabriele entreats him.

“Anything you say sir! Thank you!” Gelato agrees. Gabriele heads for his phone with a sigh.

::::::::::::

An hour later, Gelato finds himself in the staff-only section of what was once a fully functioning bar.

“Look kid, it’s not hard stuff,” his guide tells him. “Just keep ‘em drunk enough they can’t kill each other and ring me up if you hear any talk the boss ought to here,” he explains.

“Yes sir, I will,” Gelato answers dutifully. The man opens a rickety door leading to a thin, steep staircase. Gelato follows him up.

“And, this is the flat you were so eager about,” the man announces, looking over the dark, dust-filled space of the bare-bones apartment. There’s a frightful stain on the sofa, and one of the kitchen cabinet doors is hanging on one hinge. “Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you have it when I could be giving it to someone who pays. Don’t expect a penny more from me, this is your full payment,” he continues.

“But how will I eat?” Gelato protests.

“I guess you better hope they tip you good,” the man answers apathetically. “Look, if you do a good job and don’t piss me off, maybe I can spare a few thousand lire a night later on, but until then, you’re getting no more help from me,” he maintains. “Maybe you should learn to pickpocket. ‘Useful skill to have around here.”

Gelato growls inwardly. Of course he knows how to pickpocket! Well- how to pickpocket 13 year olds outside a school gate. Grown men might be a different matter, but he’ll figure it out. Getting caught can’t be much worse than what happened when his parents found out.

“Alright. Thanks,” Gelato forces himself to say. The man gives a satisfied nod and exits.

“Make sure you know where everything is before you open at 9,” he says.

Gelato seeks out the bedroom and lies down, not caring how musty the frayed sheets smell. He grabs the pillow and hugs it close to him like a stuffed toy. It occurs to him that he’s scared.

::::::::::::

It takes him a month to accept his parents aren’t taking him back, two to stop fucking up every day of his life and three to feel some sense of normalcy in his new life at the bar. That’s not to say he’s happy, by any means, simply that he holds onto his current existence with a vice-grip, for fear that things could only get worse if he shook the boat too much.

He sleeps until noon, usually, leaves the house as soon as he’s awake enough to do so and just walks. Anywhere. Sometimes he tries to pickpocket but ever since that beating he earned from a poorly chosen victim, he saves it for his most desperate days. After lunch, if he has any, he sometimes goes to the library. He was never much of a scholar and rarely reads, but he finds the place more pleasant to dissociate in than his apartment.

Should he feel like treating himself, he occasionally visits the arcade when he has the change to spare. After it became clear letting him waste away was not in the landlord’s best interests if he wanted his bar to stay running, he began to help a little with food costs but nowhere near enough for such frivolous outings to be frequently affordable.

Around 3pm, Gelato goes home and sleeps until his hunger forces him to get up and eat. He likes to make a start early on setting up the bar, and cleaning it from the messes of its previous nights patrons, so he tries to begin by 7. It opens at 9 and closes at 2, after which Gelato will shower, and spend a short stretch of time watching the old, boxy TV he pulled out of the attic in bed, before sleeping.

As he exits the cellar, he receives a few apathetic glances from some of the patrons but ultimately nothing much. His eyes are on the far corner of the bar where, to perhaps less of his concern than it should be, two men are engaged in a heated argument. It’s a sight he’s well used to now, but he keeps a keen watch on the men, since the landlord insisted he de-escalate anything that looks like it may prove fatal.

“I don’t care what your excuses are! We had a deal and you’re going to fucking pay me!” The first man shouts. He is one of the younger ones, probably little older than Gelato but with an air of authority more akin to some of the older individuals in the mob. He has heard whispers about this man- his name is Sorbet and he is an enforcer. The mobsters are cautious about the word ‘assassin’, it makes them sound like a more ambitious group than they truly are, one that could be deemed a threat by the larger syndicates that truly control this city. Yet, Gelato reads between the lines when they talk about the things Sorbet has done. As Gelato approaches Sorbet’s eyes flick towards him momentarily. Gelato shies away from the eye contact and feels an odd feeling inside him. Seeing Sorbet always makes him feel odd. He doesn’t dare speak to him directly.

“Whatever. It ain’t on me if you misread what we were talking about. You did me a favour, nothing more,” the second man retorts. He’s another regular, as familiar to Gelato, if not more, than Sorbet is, even if he doesn’t know him by name. He is a cruel man, impatient and aggressive whenever he visits. Gelato always tremors a little when he comes through the door.

Still, he scares him less than Sorbet.

Gelato forces a smile as he approaches the second man.

“Pardon me, could I get you any more-” he inhales sharply as the half-full bottle of wine is chucked over him.

“Yes, one more of these,” the man orders coldly. Gelato wipes his eyes.

“Right away,” he nods, turning back towards the cellar and fighting every fibre of his being telling him not to let this slide.

Gelato descends into the cellar, shaking from the cold of his wet clothes and anger. As he pulls a new bottle off the shelf he wonders briefly if he ought to piss in it, but decides the best result that could come of that is having it thrown over him again. He pats down his shirt and takes the bottle back up to the bar.

He knows what has happened before the door is even open. The sound of shouting is familiar to him, and if the past few minutes is anything to go by, it’s Sorbet and that petulant man’s feud which has turned violent. Opening the door proves his theory, as a small crowd has formed around Sorbet and his opponent as they engage in a relentless match of fists.

Gelato debates to himself. He could put down the bottle and run, he could try and calm the men down and risk one or both of them turning their anger on him, or he could use this opportunity to finally get back at that bastard’s disrespect. Gelato’s never been much of a thinking sort. His mind doesn’t take long to settle on the third option. He rears the bottle above his head and charges.

There’s a collective gasp of shock as Gelato suddenly crashes into the man, smashing the bottle over the back of his skull with full strength. It shatters, and the man falls to the floor with a groan. Gelato looks up at Sorbet, briefly fearing his interference may have provoked anger but, Sorbet only smiles.

Gelato rushes to his feet just in time to join his new ally in kicking the man, again and again until he starts to spit blood. Gelato picks up the remains of the bottle’s base and pours out the remaining liquid onto his enemy’s face in one, final insult. The crowd cheers. Evidently this man was not so popular with the gang after all.

Gelato sits down, whoozy from exhaustion and adrenaline. He finds himself laughing. He cannot recall the last time he’s done that. Sorbet leans down and pulls a stack of cash from the unconscious man’s pocket.

“Lying bastard,” he scoffs. “He did have the money. Probably a lot more than I asked for, but I can hardly complain about that.” Sorbet turns to Gelato with a look of deliberation. He pulls out one of the 50,000 lire bills and hands it to him with a smile.

“For your trouble,” he declares. He withdraws his hand with a slow deliberateness, their fingertips touching for just the briefest of seconds. The odd feeling Gelato has felt since laying eyes on Sorbet returns with a vengeance, and yet, Gelato can feel nothing but awe as it begins to eat his heart.

Oh dear. Gelato might have a crush.

::::::::::::

It is three days later to the hour, that Gelato finds himself hauled into the cellar and pinned against the wall, mouth agape in shock as Sorbet digs his fingers into his neck. It occurs to Gelato he might have gone about this the wrong way.

“Alright, spit it out,” Sorbet demands. “What the hell was that up there?”

“Pardon?” Gelato pleads fearfully.

“Did you think I would let you get away with mocking me like that?” Sorbet asks through gritted teeth. Gelato’s mind turns to the myriad of weapons no doubt hidden in Sorbet’s clothes. That thought shouldn’t endear him as much as it does.

“Mocking?”

“Oh? Is there another explanation for why you would behave like that around me? Humiliate me in front of half my gang? Well?!” Sorbet entreats him. His grip around his neck tightens

“Flirting! It was flirting!” Gelato confesses desperately. Sorbet’s grip lessens.

“What?”

“Look. I think I like guys, you like guys or at least everyone says you do. And- I think I might like you a lot so- I wanted your attention. I wanted to talk to you again,” Gelato admits sheepishly. His cheeks start to burn, and it isn’t from the lack of oxygen any more.

Sorbet looks like something in his brain must have just blown a fuse. Perhaps Gelato should take this opportunity to run, since this half-assed attempt at seduction is clearly a resounding failure.

But then Sorbet starts to laugh. It’s a low, quiet laugh but nonetheless genuine as he fixes his eyes warmly on the floor.

“Oh you dear thing. That isnot how this works,” he says. Gelato breathes out in relief, as well as a little disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. This was stupid I should- probably just go back to my work,” he apologises. His body goes still as Sorbet touches a hand to his cheek.

“Though if you ever want my attention again,” he leans in and presses his lips lightly against Gelato’s. “You should just ask.”

Sorbet lets out a little hum of amusement at the sight of Gelato’s shock. He caresses his face once more, touching his finger to a little curl of hair as he does so, before finally freeing Gelato from his hold.

“See you later,” he promises, before leaving him alone in the cellar. Above him, Gelato hears Sorbet walk out in the direction of the front door. Gelato collects himself, and calmly wanders over to the sink, waiting patiently for it to fill with water.

He sticks his head in and screams.

::::::::::::

Sorbet visits the bar twice weekly, no different from before. But he starts visiting Gelato more often. Barely a week from their first kiss, they are in bed together, Gelato clinging onto his new love tightly as he reads. This touch is alien to him and in spite of his joy, he cannot help but quiver as Sorbet pets his hair. He wonders how he ever lived his life without knowing joy this strong.

Their second week is easier. They both start to become accustomed to this newfound love and no longer think of each other as strangers. Gelato knows Sorbet’s full name now, he knows which street he grew up on and the names and ages of each of his siblings. Sorbet knows what Gelato’s parents did for a living. He knows the name of the boy he had his first real fight with, and the therapist who tried and failed to relieve him of the ‘learning disabilities’ that made his parents despise him so deeply. Sorbet tries to at least drop in on most days, but when he can’t, he calls Gelato to tell him where he’s staying for the night. Gelato thinks of him as he falls asleep, hugging his pillow close.

By week three, the pair have found a new normal together. Sorbet sleeps over more often than not, and the bar patrons now know full well not to cause Gelato trouble when Sorbet is in the building. Sorbet has made every aspect of Gelato’s life more enjoyable, and he can see in Sorbet’s eyes that the feeling goes both ways. Gelato knows why Sorbet left home four years ago, and Sorbet knows how Gelato really wants to get revenge of his parents for abandoning him. On precisely day 19 of their affair, Gelato asked Sorbet if he planned to keep doing this with him forever. Sorbet did not hesitate in saying yes.

It’s a few days later that Sorbet comes to the bar with an especially warm smile on his usually cold face. Gelato thought little of putting down his current orders to rush over and greet him at the door.

“Sorbet, you’re here early!” Gelato enthuses. Sorbet pecks his cheek.

“I thought we might spend a night to ourselves. I think you need it, Caro.”

“But Sorbet, the bar doesn’t close for three more hours yet!” Gelato reminds him.

“Not if I can help it.”

Sorbet raises his gun and fires it twice at the ceiling. The patrons look up in fear. “Alright, everyone out. Bar’s closed,” he announces. The patrons sheepishly get to their feet and file out.

“But, the landlord!” Gelato protests.

“Fuck the landlord. If he has a problem with this, he goes through me,” Sorbet maintains. Gelato’s breath escapes him with a laugh and he follows him upstairs.

“Really, tell me,” Gelato insists light-heartedly. “What’s brought this on?” He turns around and his face falls to see that Sorbet is looking saddened.

“I- saw my siblings today,” he announces.

“Are they… okay?” Gelato asks worriedly.

“Oh, they’re fine. I saw them down at the cafe, they didn’t notice me. Taking a look at the other ones, I’m assuming the older ones are getting better at taking care of them. It makes sense, given the ages they’re getting to. The issue is… there was another baby, this time, who wasn’t there before,” Sorbet reveals. “Probably just a month or so old, from the looks of her.”

“Sorbet…”

“My sister,” Sorbet says, bringing his head into his hands. “And I don’t even know her name!”

“Sorbet,” Gelato says, taking his head in his own hands. “It isn’t your fault the way your mother is. Looking after them isn’t your responsibility.”

“It was,” Sorbet reminds him. “Then I left.”

“Look, I’m sure they’re fine,” Gelato reiterates. “Believe me when I say there are many worse things older siblings can do than just not look after you. Now,” he begins. “How about that night we were going to have together,” he smiles.

“Right,” Sorbet recalls, pecking him on the nose. “It’s you I came to see.”

Sorbet leans forward and kisses him deeply. Gelato, so recently a stranger to the sensation, leans in further to the kiss, pawing teasingly at Sorbet’s chest to urge him on. Sorbet groans to the kiss, hooking a hand around Gelato’s collar. Downstairs, something crashes loudly.

Sorbet pulls back. He sees Gelato’s eyes widen in fear as a parade of footsteps stumble into the building. Sorbet presses a kiss to his cheek reassuringly.

“Stay calm,” he urges him. “Not a sound.”

Sorbet stands up and, watching his feet on the old floorboards, moves over to the window to peer outside.

“Shit!” he exclaims, ducking away out of view.

“What is it?” Gelato whispers.

“The police. Two cars.”

“Are they here for us?” Gelato asks, voice hitching in fear. Sorbet shakes his head quickly.

“Unlikely. They most likely thought the place was empty. If we are quick, we can still leave without them seeing us,” he promises. Gelato shrinks back.

“I’m scared,” he admits. Sorbet takes his hand in his.

“Just stay with me okay? I’ll protect you.”

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #Sorbet and Gelato #sorbet jojo #gelato jojo #l'inizio

[july13th2004]

Under The Sakura Moonlight

Characters/Relationships: Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Kratos/Anna, Kranna

Genre: Romance

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Smut

Word Count: 2735

Mirror Link: AO3

Summary: Kratos, Anna, Lloyd and Noishe travel back to Palmacosta in time for the early spring Sakura/Cherry Blossom festival, and in time to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

Author's Note: This is the much longer, explicit sequel to 'Under The Autumn Moonlight' I talked about a couple months ago. For personal reasons, I was adamant about posting this today. To date, this is also my longest one-shot! I normally don't like using Japanese words in my titles *glares at my late teen self*, but this title rolls off the tongue better than 'Under The Cherry Blossom Moonlight', imo.

Anyway, I'll reiterate the warning this time, because this one contains not one, but four graphic smut scenes, so please only read at your own discretion/risk!

After traveling for the better part of three months in the elements, the small family of four finally made it to Palmacosta again in time for the early spring festival. They found and stayed in the same two-bedroom cabin on the outskirts of town, left seemingly untouched since staying there for the early autumn Moon Festival the previous year. The area surrounding the cabin now covered with trees wearing bright pink and white hued blooms instead of brightly colored, warm hued leaves.

The Sakura Festival, or Cherry Blossom Festival, as some townsfolk called it, was brought to the bustling city by the same mysterious man who brought the Moon Festival. It was a celebration of the spring season and new beginnings, with the festival taking place every year from late March, to mid to late April. Sakura trees would line the stone covered main streets of the city as street vendors selling everything from food to toys would hawk their wares at passersby.

It was towards the end of week two of the festival now, and at night, often in the cool, gentle early spring breeze, petals would fall from the trees both surrounding the cabin and off the trees that lined the streets in the city. Anna stood by the window closest to their bed, watching in awe as the petals fell to the ground. Kratos sat at the edge of the bed, turning his attention away from polishing his sword to look at her, a soft smile permeating his features.

She turned her body to look at him, tearing her eyes away from the breathtaking sight outside. “I forgot to ask you earlier today, but what day is it? I haven’t had a chance to look at the calendar since we arrived…” Her visage wore a sheepish smile as she averted her eyes from his to stare at the floor.

“April 7th…” He replied, giving her a brief quizzical look before focusing his attention back to polishing his sword again. He was about to ask her why when the reason suddenly dawned on him, and she broke though the brief silence with his exact thoughts.

“Oh, five days until our wedding anniversary! You didn’t forget, did you?” Her grin was mischievous as she looked at him, waiting for him to meet her gaze.

“Of course not, my dear…”

“I need to start planning what we’ll have for dinner this year! What should it be? Hmm…”

Anna’s voice trailed off as she left the room to look at what they had in the kitchen as she began to plan the incredibly special dinner. Kratos sheathed his sword and placed it against the wall near their bedroom door, before sitting down at the edge of the bed again. Truthfully, he was at a loss of what to give to her this year for their anniversary. He usually gave her flowers or an expensive dress that she would only wear on particularly special occasions, but something about this year was different; he wanted to do something that she would always remember. Looking out the window, watching the pink and white hued petals as they fell from the tree closest to the window, he suddenly had an idea.

The next five days seemed to fly by for the four of them, with Kratos setting his plan in motion the morning after their discussion. When the day of their anniversary arrived, they spent most of it at the festival. Shortly after dinner, the couple helped each other wash and put away the dishes, before putting Lloyd and Noishe to bed. Then the two headed outside to sit under one of the surrounding trees atop a well-worn traveling blanket, casting their gazes up at the clear, midnight hued sky full of stars.

“So how was the hamburger steak tonight?” Anna inquired as she moved closer to him.

“It was wonderful, as always,” Kratos replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist, “Lloyd seemed to enjoy it as well.”

“Yeah, I wanted it to be something that he would enjoy too, since he’s starting to understand the importance of this day.”

A comfortable silence fell between the couple as they looked back up at the late-night sky. Anna laid her head on his shoulder and took one of his hands in hers, her thumb tracing random patterns over his skin.

Then she broke the silence, “Now, I wasn’t expecting anything, but don’t you usually have a gift for me today?”

Kratos leaned down and touched his forehead against hers when she looked up at him, his hand traveling up to rest against her cheek, “Well, since we’re alone, I suppose I can give you part of your gift now.”

Then the distance closed between their lips. He deepened the kiss, tongue entering her mouth to intertwine with hers. His hands fell to her waist as the two shifted into a more comfortable position, with her lying down on the blanket and him hovering over her. She let out a contented sigh against his lips as her hands drifted down his torso to untie the obi on his black and purple colored kimono, that all too familiar heat and ache beginning to creep between her legs.

His lips peppered languid kisses from her jawline all the way down to the nape of her neck. He propped himself up on one forearm while his other hand traveled down to her waist to deftly untie the obi of her kimono. Her face flushed bright crimson and she let out a soft moan when his fingertips grazed over some skin just above the juncture of her hips, before drifting back up to lightly brush over the now hardening peaks of her breasts, stilling his lips against the base of her neck.

“Hmm… You’re not wearing anything underneath your kimono…” He pulled back to gaze down at her, a playful smirk on his features.

“I-I thought we would be going to bed after dinner-”

Kratos effectively silenced her response with his lips, smiling into the kiss. She raked her fingertips down the chiseled and sculpted muscles of his bare torso as his fingers slowly traipsed down hers, landing in the soft curls above her womanhood. A gasp escaped her lips as his fingers toyed with her sensitive nub and damp folds, his lips and tongue moving down the column of her neck and across her shoulder. He inserted one finger into her entrance, then two, and then slowly began thrusting both fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long before she came, crying out his name and releasing onto his hand.

He pulled his fingers out and wiped his hand on the blanket, rutting his still clothed arousal against her wet folds, the friction relieving some of the throbbing ache as he captured her lips in his again. Anna tangled her fingers in his hair as her other hand drifted down to lightly palm his hardened length before freeing it from the confinements of his boxer-briefs and positioning him at her entrance. She let out another blissful sigh as he plunged into her, building a steady rhythm of languid thrusts until they both met their releases at the same time, satisfied moans and whimpers echoing in the air around them.

The couple quickly gathered themselves after coming down from their highs and made their way back inside the cabin. Kratos tossed the travel blanket into the laundry basket by their bedroom door, before picking Anna up and carrying her bridal style through the threshold. He put her down and quietly closed the door as she let out a surprised gasp, looking at the bed that was now covered in cherry blossom petals and fully bloomed buds.

“My gift to you this year… Is to give you a night you’ll always remember…”

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape, before he closed the distance again between their lips, giving her a searing, almost bruising kiss. Their kimonos swiftly fell to the floor, and he pulled away momentarily to remove his boxer-briefs before crushing his lips to hers again. He lifted her up and carried her over to one side of the bed, where he sat down and she straddled his waist, the faint floral scent emanating from the petals and buds scattered all over the bed filling the air around them as their lips continued to meld together. Her fingers ran through his spiky, auburn locks as she lifted her hips and positioned herself above the head of his stiffened manhood, then lowered herself down until he was fully seated inside her.

His hands fell to her waist, holding her in place as his lips peppered lingering licks and kisses down the column of her neck. She didn’t protest the lack of friction and movement, as she knew he sometimes liked to sit there and enjoy the feel of her walls clenching around him for a few minutes. Fifteen minutes passed before he removed his hands from her waist, allowing her to slowly roll her hips in a steady rhythm as his lips drifted down to her breasts, tongue languidly licking each of her hardened nipples, eliciting a loud moan from her lips. Her hands reached up and gripped his shoulders as she began bouncing up and down atop his pulsating length, quickening her pace with each upward and downward thrust of her hips.

Soft whimpers of his name escaped her lips when his tip hit her in just that right spot at her core. She leaned in and peppered rough kisses along the column of his neck, her thrusts becoming more erratic as she chased her release. When she came, she came hard, crying out his name and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His hands fell to her waist, then firmly gripped her ass, roughly pulling her against him as she rode out her own release. He came moments later, groaning out her name against the crook of her neck as he completely emptied himself into her.

They held each other tightly as they came down from their highs, the sound of their ragged breaths mingling with the scent emanating from the petals and blossoms scattered around the bed, a few having fallen to the floor as a result of their copulation. Anna pulled back to cast her gaze down at him, half-lidded eyes locking with his own. Kratos reached up to briefly tangle his fingers in her medium-brown locks, before pulling her down into another rough, searing kiss. She cupped his face as his hands and fingertips traced down her back and firmly gripped her ass again, deepening the kiss as she plunged her tongue against his. He stood up from where he sat at the side of the bed, taking her with him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he wandered toward the wall, their lips still locked in a passionate dance.

She felt his manhood harden inside her as her back hit the wall, pleasantly stretching her walls. His lips latched onto the nape of her neck, roughly kissing and licking her there as his hips began a slow, steady thrust against hers. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he picked up the pace and began pounding into her. The moment his tip hit that right spot at her core again, was the moment she met her release, loudly crying out his name, her fingers roughly tangling in his hair as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. After a couple more rough, intense thrusts, he met his own release, completely pouring himself into her as he loudly moaned out her name.

“Are you all right? Do you want to stop and go to bed?” His deep, husky voice inquired a short time later, cutting through the sound of her staggered breathing as she came down from her high.

“I-I’m all right, just…give me a minute, then I can go another round…” She replied with determination, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall, her arms falling limply at her sides.

He always had more stamina than her when it came to strenuous physical activity. When it came to making love though, she always tried to match him, wanting nothing more than to satisfy and please him just as much as he satisfied and pleased her. She untangled her legs from around his waist as he pulled out and lowered her to the floor, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back to steady her breathing. Then he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the bed, placing her down on a double stack of plush pillows, cherry blossom petals and buds framing her face with her hair splayed around her.

Dark, still half-lidded eyes gazed down into hers after he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her. He softly cupped her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks as he captured her lips in his. Her small, but lithe fingers trailed down his muscular chest, quickly finding his now flaccid length and firmly taking him in her hand. She slowly stroked him, her thumb slightly toying with his tip, until he hardened in her hand, a hiss escaping his lips as he roughly kissed and tongued the nape of her neck. His hands traveled down to gently cup and massage her breasts, thumbs lightly toying with her hardened nipples, eliciting soft whimpers from her lips.

She wrapped her arms around him and her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles to lock him in place as he inserted his manhood into her. His breath hitched as he felt her muscles clamp and pulsate around him, until he fully seated himself inside her. He began a slow and steady roll against her hips, quickly picking up of the pace and intensity of his thrusts until he was pounding relentlessly into her, hitting her core repeatedly, loud moans escaping from her parted lips. To further steady herself, she raised her arms and firmly gripped the thick, wooden bars on the headboard.

He gripped her hips tightly, his eyes entranced by the hypnotic bounce of her breasts as he continued to pound into her, the bed creaking loudly in time with his intense, powerful thrusts. She came hard, screwing her eyes shut and nearly screaming out his name, the sound of her voice echoing around the room. When he came moments after her, he came hard, completely emptying his heavy load into her and riding out both of their releases as he loudly groaned out her name. Her arms wrapped around him as he collapsed against her when he was spent, rubbing his back to help him steady his breathing in the same way he did to her earlier.

Kratos rolled over onto his back, pulling Anna with him so she was laying on top of him. The couple cuddled in comfortable silence for a time, his arms wrapping her in a tight embrace as she planted soft, lingering kisses across his chest.

“Happy anniversary, my dear,” He spoke, breaking the silence, tilting her chin up so he could softly kiss her, “I…hope my gift this year was to your satisfaction…”

“It was the best anniversary gift you’ve ever given me! And also the second-best gift you’ve ever given me…” She softly exclaimed, her hand reaching up to gently caress his face with the palm of her hand.

“What is the first?” He asked, giving her a soft, quizzical smile.

“Lloyd…” She replied, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

He kissed the crown of her head, running his fingers through her hair, “Well, I only had a small part in that-”

His voice was swallowed up by the sound of her softly snoring against his chest. Kratos briefly gazed out the window, watching as the pink and white hued petals fell from the trees in the pale moonlight. He turned his attention back to his softly snoring wife, planting another soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“I love you, Anna…” He murmured against the crown of her head before closing his eyes and joining her in slumber.

The two would stay in that position, tangled in each other’s arms, for the rest of the night, under the early spring moonlight.

#tales of symphonia #kratos aurion #anna irving #kranna #my fanfiction #lloyd irving #noishe

[pulpwriterx]

A SHEEP AS BLACK AS MIDNIGHT IN SPACE

It is a dark time for the Galaxy. General Enric Pryde and Supreme Leader Snoke have unleashed a reign of terror, dealing the New Republic a terrible blow with the Hosnian Cataclysm. But all is not lost. General Organa has discovered a New Hope from the desert of Jakku, who will become the Last Jedi. After Rey, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Poe Dameron and Finn, the former FN2187 undertook a daring raid that led to the destruction of Starkiller Base, Rey has gone to Ahch-To, to study under the reclusive Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. And he will tell her a secret. There is another.

I: THERE IS ANOTHER.

Luke Skywalker sighed, heavily.

“Master Luke, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I destroyed my own family, Rey. And the Galaxy is paying the price. Did you ever wonder why Han and Leia don’t live together? Why I’m in exile, here? There is another. Or at least, there was. My nephew. My paduan. The best and worst student at the Jedi Temple. Ben Solo.”

“Ben Solo! Didn’t he die at the Jedi Temple?”

“In a way, he did. He doesn’t use that name, anymore.”

“Then he’s alive? Do you know what happened to him?”

“A great many things. First? There were his mother's expectations. She had his whole life planned out. His Royal Highness, Prince Benjamin Skywalker Organa-Solo. He was going to be the perfect Jedi, the perfect young leader, the perfect fair-haired son of the New Republic. He wasn’t supposed to be a giant behemoth of a man, who was too much like his father and his grandfather to fit in any mold. Han and I pretty much figured that Big Ben was going his own way by the time he was six. His hair was down to his waist, and he’d scream and break the scissors with the Force if you came near him to cut his hair. He wouldn’t wear clothes. Just a pair of underwear, if you took him out. He wanted to be a Wookiee. He wouldn’t speak Basic. Just Shriiyywook. We worked it out. But Ben never really changed.”

Luke sighed.

“As he grew to manhood, I started seeing my nephew as a monster. His obsession with his own duality, and that of his grandfather. His heretical leanings toward the Grey Path. And his vows? Forget vows. Not my nephew, the king of taboo. Jedi are supposed to take vows of chastity, and honesty. To have control over their emotions. Ben sold cigarillos, wine, and rubbers from his father’s smuggling operation out of my father’s TIE Fighter, his personal vehicle. He lost his virginity when he was 14 to his best friend, Talia who was 13. As usual? Han was the best worst father, ever. He took her to get an implant, and kept Ben supplied with rubbers. Which he needed, because any of my female students who were curious about their resident Rebel Angel? Let’s just say, Ben never failed to satisfy their curiosity. He didn’t listen to me when I tried to stop him. He really thought he meant something to these girls. After all, they meant something to him. It took Talia telling him she was going to rent him by the hour out of her Wookiee foster father’s garage in Mos Eisley, because he laid more pipe to more satisfied customers than any spaceport gigolo. I mean, how do you teach a six and a half foot tall Force of nature who has been using the Force since he was a toddler in a crib to open the cupboard and get the cookies?”

“He likes cookies?”

“Ben? He eats like a Wookiee. Literally. Chewie taught him to cook.”

“But he likes cookies?”

“Eats them by the box."

Master Luke laughed.

“Now I see that all of it was so very minor. I used to get so angry with him about the TIE Fighter, and the smuggling, and Talia, and the other girls. He didn’t trust me to tell me how the Dark Side, how Snoke was stalking him. It had been a terrible day, for Ben. I disciplined his little group of girls, and all four of them blamed everything on him. Not Talia, though. She spoke up for Ben. But the other three girls? They didn’t take his side. They gave him up. He sat in his hut and cried, all day. He really cared. He did. The poor kid cried himself to sleep. I went to check on him, that night and I felt the Dark Side all around him. While he was sleeping. I thought he had given himself over to it. I attacked. I almost cut off his head, but Ben defended himself. He blocked my lightsaber with his and punched me in the face as hard as he could. If I wasn’t a Jedi Master who can anticipate my opponent's movements. It would have broken my neck. But he didn't mean to kill me. Ben was just scared. As it was, I was unconscious until the morning. By then? It was all over."

Rey couldn’t believe the enormity of the act that he had just admitted to.

Trying to murder his own paduan, his own nephew!

“What happened to your nephew after he brought the building down on you? Did he join the Dark Side.”

“No. He packed up his gear and walked ten miles to the spaceport, and made it there by morning. He left Yavin 4 on a Mandalorian freighter with a business associate of his father’s, Din Saxon, under an assumed name that he had identity papers for. Now he’s partners with Rotta the Hutt, Jabba’s son, Din Saxon, the Mandalorian, and Han Solo. They revived the old Galactic Black Market, and now there’s a war on, not only are they making a fortune? They’re the only game in town for a lot of little things that people find it hard to live without. They do sell arms and coaxium to both sides, but they only sell the low-grade junk to the First Order and at three times the price they sell to the Resistance. I hear that Ben’s doing well. He hasn’t realized his ambition to meet the girl the Force has bound him to, but he still has his friend, Talia. I trained her as a Jedi Healer, and she's since gone to the Republic Medical School. She's Ben's personal doctor. As reckless as he is? He needs to travel with a farkling doctor. Pardon my language. The point is, my nephew renounced the Jedi and the Sith, the Dark and the Light, that day. He wants no part of it. He follows the Grey Path. As it was laid out by Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He also wants no part of this war. His name is Ben Solo, but the name he does business under, the name you’ll have heard of is his alias. Kylo Skywalker. The Arkanian.”

“Ben Solo is Kylo Skywalker, the Arkanian?”

“Yes. And he and Han are looking to add a good scavenger to their operation, because Kylo just bought the salvage rights to the site of the Battle of Yavin-4. And he’s the new owner of the ruins of the Second Death Star. You were the best scavenger at Niima Outpost. I’m sure you're the woman for the job.”

***

Kylo Skywalker was truly a man larger than life.

He wore a black oilskin duster, caped and hooded, festooned with grommets, pockets, and epaulets over a black pair of pilot’s coveralls, tucked into tall black jackboots.

He also wore a huge pair of brown leather and Beskar chrome goggles, with shatterproof mirrored lenses.

And he was the tallest, burliest man that Rey had ever seen.

He sat down across from her at the table she had picked out at the Niima Cantina.

The man had a quiet air of undeniable menace about him.

It put Rey on edge.

“You should try to hide that you have that much strength in the Force. The Sith are real, and the First Order take who they want.”

“Not if I work for you, Jedi Temple dropout, right?"

“I picked a good time to leave. I hear you're the best scavenger at Niima Outpost.”

“I am. Can you take those goggles off? I feel like I’m talking to a man with no eyes.”

He lowered his hood, and took off the goggles.

Time stopped.

And it wasn’t just because Kylo Skywalker the man had grown up to be a black swan with dark, saturnine good looks out of the ugly duckling of a boy that Master Luke had described to her.

It was because Rey was fairly sure it was him.

The man with whom she had shared a bond in the Force, for as long as she could remember.

She never knew his face, or his name, but now that she saw him, she somehow recognized him.

“It’s OK. I feel it, too. The Force brings people together for all kinds of reasons. Look at it this way? Now you’re sure to get the job. You’re hired, Rey…”

Rey shrugged.

“Just Rey. My parents left me when I was a little girl. I never got a last name. I don’t have identity papers, either.”

“That’s OK. I can get you some, if you need them.”

The doors opened.

Rey was excited to see Han and Chewie, again.

Kylo laughed.

He had a beautiful smile.

“My father. And my godfather. But you knew that, because my Uncle sent you here to recruit me. But I get the feeling you might decide to stick with me and the Old Man, instead. Keep that quiet, though.”

Han and Chewbacca sat down.

“She really is a scavenger. A friend of Poe’s. He got her into this mess. I got her out of it. So, you hired her, right, junior?”

“I hired her.”

“How you been, princess? You don’t look so good.” Han asked.

“You can tell us. I used to be you, after all. The Galaxy’s only hope.” Kylo joked.

“It was awful, mostly. Really awful. Master Luke was nothing like I thought he would be. Sometimes, he was very kind. But sad. As if he forgot that he was supposed to be terrible. But some of the things he taught me just confused me. Or scared me. I’m afraid of myself, now. What I might do.” Rey admitted.

“Forget it. Forget everything he taught you. It’s meaningless. The Force has no Dark Side, and no light. That dualistic nerfshit thinking? People made that up. As an excuse to control each other. And make war. You shouldn’t be afraid of what you’ll do, like it’s not up to you. You make your own destiny, Rey. Look at me. I made mine. I’m no Jedi. And I’m no Sith. There is another way. The Grey Path. I can teach it to you, if you want. Think it over. But as for all that poison Uncle Luke poured into your ears? Look what it did to him. Forget it.” Kylo advised her.

“Sounds like Luke is in bad shape, junior.” Han mentioned.

Casually.

“When Rey reports back to him? We’ll send him some supplies.” Kylo said.

“Rey, do you really want to be a Jedi?” Han asked her.

Nobody had asked her that, yet.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, try working with us for awhile. If you don’t want to go back? I won’t send you. I learned my lesson on that. With junior, here. Even after that Snoke bastard burned the Temple, Luke tried to get me to send my kid back to him, one more time. I said no. Since then, I get to visit my wife, but we don’t live together. And the kid and her aren’t on good terms. But Ben’s alive, and doing good, and the Sith and the First Order didn’t get him. It’s worth it. Don’t go back if you don’t want to. Let ‘em have their farkling war, without you. Fuck ‘m.” Han told her.

Kylo raised his pitcher.

“Dark side? Light side? Fuck it. My side.” He said.

He motioned to the Rodian barman.

“Rey works for me and Solo, now. If there’s trouble with her? You’ve got trouble with all of us.”

“I never had trouble with Rey. You made a good choice, Rey. These guys are the real deal. Order what you want, kiddo. The Arkanian has deep pockets. The deepest in the Galaxy.”

Rey was very hungry.

She ordered a lot of food, and a cheap half bottle of red wine.

“Don’t bring her the cheap stuff.” Kylo told the Rodian.

“Why are you so rich, Kylo?” Rey asked.

“He gets dressed up like another Darth Vader. Red lightsaber and all. And we raid First Order ships with full cargo holds. Or Crimson Dawn freighters. Sometimes First Order warehouses and depots. All he has to do is show up and…say it, Vader junior. Say your thing.” Han suggested.

“I am Kylo Skywalker, Lord Vader. All of this belongs to me. Surrender to me all that I ask for. Or you will die. Quickly! I find your lack of haste disturbing.”

Rey shivered.

But, much to her shame, not entirely in fear.

“That’s why I call him junior. Because I ain’t calling him Kylo. I didn’t name him Kylo. You should see these assholes give up. They usually just kneel and grovel. Sometimes, we have to get tough? But most of the time? It’s all money, it’s all for the taking, and it’s all ours.” Han explained.

“I also liberate Stormtroopers. Snoke takes them from their families, when they are children. And he brainwashed, humiliates, tortures, and enslaves them. The First Order takes their faces and their names, and makes them kill. For Snoke. It’s what he did to me. It’s what he meant for me. I didn’t deserve to live that way. No one does.” Kylo added.

“What happens to them?”

“If they have a home to go to? I help them return to it. Or find a job. Some of them work for me. They are my people, I am their Chieftain. No one else cares about them. Not my mother. Not the Resistance. Not the New Republic. I care.” Kylo told her.

Rey nodded.

The idea that Darth Vader’s grandson, the Galaxy’s only Grey Jedi Master, a ruthless pirate with unlimited money, was the self-styled Arkanian-style Clan Chieftain of a small army of loyalists with military training was a little unsettling.

And that’s why the General wants him. She wants not just her son, but his people, and the influence he has over not just them, but potentially the First Order.

When Rey thought that, Kylo turned to her.

“The Old Man and I are dangerous, ruthless men. But compared to my mother? We’re baby Ewoks.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Han agreed.

And just like that, Rey was working for the Outer Rim Cartel.

Her food and wine showed up.

“So, junior, I talked to the guy? The guy about identity papers for Rey. You object to her being a Solo?”

Kylo smiled at Rey in a way that let her know she wasn’t the only one thinking what she was thinking.

“As long as she isn’t supposed to be my sister? It’s fine by me.” Kylo replied.

"Nah. It says I'm her legal guardian until she's 21. So, that way, nobody can steal you, from me, Rey. I also put you down as Junior's common law wife. Then, after you're 21? Nobody can steal you from him. Considering the way you two keep looking at each other? I figure you don't mind."

"So, this is my wedding night?" Kylo asked

"Watch it, kid. They're just papers. It's not like I bought her from Unkar Plutt and I'm giving her to you."

"Yes, Kylo. This is our wedding night." Rey told him.

Chewbacca made a comment.

"It was not fast, Chewie. Rey is her. The girl of Ben's dreams. It's the Thunderbolt. Didn't you know, when you first met Mala, that she was the one for you?"

Chewie said something about how he wasn't talking about that kind of knowing.

"Yeah, well, it's none of our business. They're probably just kidding around. Come on, old pal. Let's not be the extra dicks at the wedding."

Han got up.

Chewie said something, sternly, to Ben that Rey didn't understand, and Ben replied earnestly.

Rey decided she was going to have to learn better Shriyyywook.

After Han and Chewie left, Ben opened the bottle of wine.

"Since we've suddenly found ourselves married? I should make you some kind of vow. Think about the loneliness you felt on this desert, Rey. The longing for someone, something to come for you. Think about it, and let it go. Because you'll never be that alone, again." He told her.

"You have nothing to worry about, Ben. You're every bit as strong as Darth Vader. And just as much a man as Han Solo. You may think you're the ugly duckling. But you've transformed into a beautiful black swan. What happens, now?"

"We'll eat our dinner, and drink this bottle of vintage Corellian red. And then? We'll start doing whatever the fuck we want. And we'll keep doing whatever the fuck we want, until death comes for us. And the son of a bitch is going to have to sneak up on me."

Kylo poured two glasses of wine.

Rey began to think this might really be where she was meant to be, after all.

Happy fanfiction day!

#reylo #ben solo lives #ben solo smuggler #reylo au #reylo romance #tros fix it #han solo lives #rey x kylo ren #reylo fanfic

[duker42]

NSFW Alphabet for Mike 🥰 please!

NSFW Alphabet for Mike Zacharias:

A-Aftercare: Despite his giant build and his role as the Second Strongest Soldier, Mike is a complete teddy bear when it comes to aftercare. He is the type to smother his lover in kisses as he cleans them up. Then prepare to be held for as long as you want, because this man lives to snuggle with you!

B-Body Part: Mike as a boob man. Doesn’t mean they have to be particularly big, he just loves to cup your breasts in his large hands. He also loves to feel your perky nipples pressed against his chest while you are having sex or you are just laying against him. Expect those bad boys to be swollen and a bit sore when he gets done loving them with his mouth.

C-Cum: Mike has a dirty little secret, he loves cum. Your cum, his cum, doesn’t matter to him. Your cum he loves all over his face and in his gotee as he licks you over and over until you are begging for mercy. His cum he gets a rush out of seeing painted on your body or oozing out of your satisfied pussy.

D-Dirty Talk: He is normally a quiet man, but his dirty talk game is pretty awesome. That rarely used deep voice is perfect. “Have I told you how sexy you look bouncing on my cock?” “Fuck, Y/N your pussy’s so good I’m about to blow, you’re so good at squeezing the cum out of me.” That sexy tone is guaranteed to push you into your own orgasm.

E-Experiment: Mike is all for some experimentation. He had several ideas of things that he wants to experience with you. He’s a man secure enough in his manhood to be willing to push his own boundaries to try what you want at least once. If it’s not for him he will let you know. It’s all about that give and take for him. How can he expect you to try those things that make him hard if he’s not willing to do the same for you?

F-Favorite Position: This man loves for you to ride his cock. Not only does he get a fantastic view, he’s not unaware of the large size difference between the two of you. It’s a way he doesnt’ have to worry about hurting you by accident. Another favorite is to hold you up in his arms and push you against a wall. Something about having you unable to move much in his arms as you moan out his name does it for him.

G-Goofy: Surprise! Mike can be a bit of a goofball with you. He’s not opposed to teasing you and cracking jokes. He keeps it more on the fun loving side rather than insulting. For him, sex is a stress relief and he enjoys when you both are laughing before you start having sex. Given the stressful nature of your jobs as Scouts, of course he wanted to be a light hearted with you as possible.

H-Hair: Our golden giant has a nice dusting of hair across his broad chest. Not enough to claim he’s wearing a fur coat, but enought for you to know that your stud is all man. His pubic hair is lighter than his chest hair naturally, not having much growing in to trim. You’ve made fun of him for before and he retaliated by hiding your razor for a week and calling you Sasquatch.

I-Intimacy: Yes he can be all fun and games at time, but for Mike, he expresses every emotion in his hands on your body. When it’s the night before an expedition, the grins fall away and he sets out to make sure you know that his heart is firmly in your hands as he revertly strokes your skin. Expect him to put that nose to use as he drinks in your scent, etching it into his brain as those green eyes close and he sighs against you.

J-Jack Off: He loves to fuck you, but that isn’t always and option and you know that. He will take care of himself in the privacy of your bedroom. Laying back on your bed, he will firmly grasp his cock in his fist and work himself up to and orgasm with hard, fast strokes. His eyes are closed as he brings your scent to mind and it’s like you’re right there with him. His body jerks as his cum jettisons out onto his stomach and he sighs, relieved that he had his release.

K-Kink: Lowkey Daddy Alert! He would never ask you to call him Daddy but if you do, expect that man’s hips to start moving faster as the sound propels him to fuck you harder. He obviously has a Olfactophilia Kink, loving the scent of you any way he can get it. You pretend not to notice that he has swiped a pair of your panties from the laundry. High key LOVES to watch you masturbate in front of him. He will lock the door to his office and put you on his desk to get a front row view of your fingers dipping into your dripping pussy.

L-Location: He will fuck you anywhere he can get you alone for more than five minutes. Once, when he was feeling particularly evil, he took you into the Captain’s office and bent you over his desk. For weeks after, anytime he had to go talk to Levi there was a stupid grin on his face.

M-Motivation: It really doesn’t take much to get Mike in the mood. If you wear any of the expensive panties that he has bought you and wear it under your uniform, he will spot the outline against your trousers. He’ll be raring to go. But he loves when you come up to him and run your hands across his chest and pull at him to lean down and gives him a sloppy kiss. It will normally end with him throwing you over his shoulder to find the nearest secluded spot.

N-No: He’s not going to hit you, even if you want it. (Punching, kicking, slapping) Mike knows his strength too well to even play at something like that. Plus he doesn’t want to hurt you, he loves you. He’s also unwilling to choke you during sex. As an officer, he has seen too many accidental deaths he’s had to write the report on for autoerotic asphyxiation. NOT HAPPENING

O-Oral: This man could go down on you for hours an be happy. He honestly believes that his best death would be to kick the bucket with his face between your legs, except for the fact that it would traumatize the shit out of you. But this doesn’t mean he doesn’t fucking love the sight of you on your knees in front of his chair with your lips wrapped around his dick. He fucking loves when you wake him up with a blow job, he will just have the best day no matter what happens.

P-Pace: He’s a giant of a man and stronger than an ox. In the bed of course he’s like a damn train barreling down the tracks. He starts off slow, giving you time to accommodate his girth, but when he’s freely sliding into you, expect that man’s cock to turn into a jackhammer, pounding away at your cervix. When he’s in that mood to really fuck you until you see stars, you’ve woken up everyone in your wing of the castle from your screams. It was really embarrassing that time Erwin burst in, thinking there was something wrong.

Q-Quickie: Sex is sex. He knows that not every time is going to be a nightlong multiple orgasm love-making session. Sometimes that quick fuck in the woods when your supposed to be training is the best thing for your relationship. It keeps the spark alive and your body throbbing for the next encounter you may have.

R-Risk: Sex in public is always a thrill, but as an officer, he does keep it to areas you are less likely to be seen. But if there’s a reasonable chance he can get you both off before someone comes by, expect your pants to be pulled down in a heartbeat. Risky sex is alright at long as it’s not choking you or punching you. Again, thats not happening, but he will set up safewords when you want to take a walk on the wild side.

S-Stamina: He’s another one of those men that can outlast his woman to the point where she’s wondering if he’s ever going to cum. When you two have the time, he’s going to be moving inside you for at least an hour. He can speed it up for you by leaning down and drinking in your scent. If you weren’t quite done with him, it’s going to be awhile. At least half an hour, but he will make sure that you are kept entertained by his tongue and fingers in the meantime.

T-Toys: Mike is wary of toys until he learns what all you can do with them. Then it’s like a little kid being given free reign in a candy store. He will buy everything that looks interesting. It will just be another thing that can aid in making sure that you are completely satisfied in his bed.

U-Unfair: He doesn’t really like to tease you too much sexually. He would rather give you multiple orgasms than try to deny you. Mike wants you anticipating your next encounter, not wondering if he’s going to edge you for hours without relief.

V-Volume: There’s something about these Scouts that just makes them more quiet in bed than most. He will grunt softly in your ear during a particularly pleasing move or thrust. When he cums, its going to a a low calling of your name as he releases. You’ve only been able to make him shout a few times and it’s a personal goal of yours every time your together.

W-Wild Card: Mike is pretty possessive. It’s a good thing that not too many people would fuck with his woman, because it wouldn’t end well for them. He is definitely one to go pull you out of someone’s range and give you a quick but thorough fuck in a closet.

X-X-Ray: Again, he’s a giant. Of course his cock is going to be the same. He is almost pushing 11 inches of thick, girthy deliciousness. His tip is like the edge of a sword, much smaller, allowing him to work his way in without causing you too much pain.

Y-Yearning: If there wasn’t the issue of serving humanity and fighting the Titan’s, Mike would probably try to spend all of his time in bed with you. As much as possible and still support you, of course. He loves the feeling of your skin against his, your calming presence around him and craves it as much as possible.

Z-Zzzz: Mike sleeps pretty well, as well as any Scout can. But after an intense few hours of making love to you, he’s ready to slip off into dreamland. He will cuddle for as long as you want, but most of the times as you lay there in his arms, his eyes will close and you’ll start to hear his soft snores. It’s always so peaceful and you find yourself drifting off too.

Mobile MasterList

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk mike #aot mike #mike headcannons #mike zacharias headcanons #mike zacharias #mike z headcannons #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #attack on titan headcanon #shingeki no kyojin headcanon

[madlymiho]

Your inbox is open and I am here to fulfil my destiny and request a scenario for Zoro and his long term fem!s/o who has a thing for men in leather and asks him to wear it for her and get kinky and you know I am here for absolute sin 👀👅💦 (love you 💚)

Hehehe… Well, honestly, I seriously made a very dominant Zoro for this one! But you came for the absolute sin, right? 😏💚 Love you too! And I truly hope you will enjoy this nasty scenario ~

Inspiration for Zoro outfit, just here!

Words : 2990

Warning : NSFW

Zoro scenario : Leather pants (read after the cut)

“Seriously, this?” Zoro asks with his eyebrows furrowed. 

He grabs the leather pants with a powerful grip, creasing the material between his strong fingers. He can’t believe he actually has to dress like this for a sort of obscur and blurry mission he definitely not understand completely. She told him several days ago that she needed his help, but he didn’t sign for a sado-masochist outfit when he said yes! She sighs and puts her book aside, standing back up on her feet while she skirts the bed and comes closer. 

“Yes, this! We have a mission Zoro. You need to wear these pants,” she answers, crossing her arms around her chest while she digs her eyes in his concerned and unpleased look. 

“What kind of mission requires to wear leather pants and suspenders? I don’t want to look like a clown! Ask Sanji to dress like this if you want to have a submissive around, but not me!” 

She clearly fights her sudden deep need to mock him, his last sentence still echoing inside of her mind, but she manages to remain absolutely impassible, snatching the clothes out of his hands while she heavily sighs and starts to walk away.

“Fine! Let’s ask the cook to help me on this one, since mister muscles is turning into a diva!” 

“Hey, stay here,” Zoro snaps, gripping her wrist before she can walk away. 

She knows he tends not to appreciate when she mentions Sanji and his everlasting habit to turn himself into a docile servant for her. Zoro isn’t jealous, but when it comes to the cook… A part of him can’t help but be utterly possessive toward her. He angrily snatches the trousers and the suspenders back from her hands, and throws her a deadly stare while he walks to the bathroom, accepting his fate and this odd mission. 

***

“Okay, I’m ready, now.” Zoro states while he walks back into their shared bedroom, slightly unconfident and flustered about his outfit. 

She’s looking at herself through the mirror, putting some mascara on her eyelashes while she wears her favorite red and revealing dress, her face almost touching the cool surface, her gestures slow and mastered. She’s focus on her task, not wanting to soil her cheeks with some unwelcomed makeup, when Zoro makes another step in the room, visibly waiting for her reaction. Aware of her boyfriend silent request, she eventually puts down her mascara on the table, and spins on her hips so she can face him and give him a review, but what she sees at the moment is clearly unbelievable. Zoro looks like an erotic god coming out from another world. The pants are slightly too tight for him, and they shape his muscular thighs way too lustily, along with the impressive natural bulge of his arousal. His outlined abs trace a line down his belly, which end with a delicious V pointing at his manhood, perfectly enlightening his hours of hard training. The suspenders cover his nipples, suggesting to have a look on his chest too, and somehow, she can’t help but be captivated by this show. She closes her mouth, perhaps to prevent herself from drooling like a dog waiting for a pile of bones in front of the sexual beauty of her partner. 

“Zoro…,” she eventually whispers, making a step forward while her fingers start to skim his arm. “You look…,”

“Like a clown, I know.” Zoro snaps again, even if he clearly sees that it doesn’t seem to be her opinion. “You like it, Name?” 

He feels her hand gently coming up, tracing invisible lines of his bare torso, as she eventually looks at him in the eyes and gulps, drowning herself in his intense stare. He perfectly recognizes the look in her irises, almost desperate, as she finally smiles and takes a step backward, as if she tries her best to muffle her arousal. Yet, Zoro can’t help but feel the need to tease her.

“We should go,” she says as she clears her throat, pointing at the doorway with a motion of her head. “We’re going to be late.” 

“Oh, really?” Zoro answers with a low and deep voice, that particular one which makes her shiver on her feet, even deeper inside. 

She looks back at him, and Zoro understands that she’s now aware of her boyfriend’s mood, and his profound desires to spend some quality time with her before they would head to their mission. She shakes her head and smiles, somehow turning him down, but it’s not enough to stop him. 

“I’m still waiting for you review,” Zoro continues, moving forward as she keeps avoiding his body, until she actually collides with the desk, and grabs its corners with a desperate gesture. “You do like it, don’t you?” 

She pinches her lips together, her throat deeply dry, while she finally nods, confirming his words. Zoro smiles, her reaction directly awakening his already tickling crotch, before he catches her wrist and puts her fingers on his chest. He guides her silently, letting her digits fondling his chest, skimming his abs with slow gestures. During the whole time, she keeps looking at him in the eyes, feeling how much he desires her right now. 

“Don’t play, we don’t have time…,” she tries to argue, but she immediately stops talking when he lets her fingers brush the V of his belly, bringing her at the edge of his most intimate part. “Zoro…,” 

“Why are you in a hurry, suddenly? You’re always such a teaser, but now you shut your mouth and you want to run? I don’t deal well with runner, you know it…” 

He knows it’s unfair to tease her like this, but he clearly doesn’t want to stop. She’s not protesting either after all, and she doesn’t even try to take her hand away from his body, so Zoro decides that she needs to learn her lesson, since she wanted so bad to have him in these leather pants. Suddenly, he presses her palm on his crotch, making her feel his erect manhood, as his other hand starts to play with the strands of her hair falling around her face, until his thumb comes up on her face and plays with her lips, putting a soft but real pressure on them. He’s up to something passionate, and she feels it. The way he devours her with his eyes is revealing, and somehow, she knows that she can’t leave this room without paying the price of wanting him in this kind of outfit. 

“Open.” Zoro orders, his thumb making its way inside of her mouth. “Don’t make me wait anymore.” 

From time to time, Zoro’s natural dominance explodes like a firework, especially during their steamiest sessions. He loves to control their throes of passion, and most of time, she doesn’t complain. She can’t fight his stamina, nor his erotic aura when he’s so full of desires. So without thinking, she opens her mouth, letting his thumb playing with her tongue, while he flushes his body against her. He catches her jaw with a strong hand, almost violently but without any harm, squeezing her cheeks as he smirks and looks at her rolling her wet muscle around his finger. He presses his hard arousal against her core, pushing with his thigh so she can allow him some room between her legs, their two bodies completely glued together. He digs his finger even deeper, his eyes never leaving her irises, dominating her with all his suffocating aura. 

“What kind of naughty little girl are you when I’m wearing this?” Zoro purrs, lifting her head a little bit by putting more pressure on her jaw, forcing her to put herself on her tiptoes, until he removes his thumb from her mouth to roll up her dress and presses it on her panties. “Let’s find out how much you want it.” 

“Zoro…,” she calls in a warm sigh, feeling the sweet pressure of his digit right on her damp underwears. 

“Sssh, don’t even try to argue,” Zoro whispers, as his other digits put aside her panties to grant him a proper access to her wet core. “Mh, looks like I won my bet. I know you only wanting me in those pants to have my cock inside of you after.” 

She moans, desperately, unable to control herself as he gently rubs his thumb on her clit, his other fingers playing with her entrance, teasing her intensely. Zoro is clearly in his most dominant mood, and somehow, wearing leather only increases his needs to make her beg for him. She knows it, tonight, he’s going to be even wilder than usual. 

“So, Name… Do you like me outfit?” Zoro asks again, his finger terribly slow on her clit, his eyes looking for her every reaction on her face. 

She moves her hips to chase her own pleasure, but he suddenly plasters his hand on them, holding her still until she eventually answers the question. He smirks, his index and middle finger brushing her entrance, drops of her wet core dripping against her thigh lazily. 

“Yes…,” she eventually moans, looking at him with despair and passion. “Yes…I…I love it, Zoro…,” 

He presses his thumb harder on her clit, yet, his interrogation isn’t over. He knows there’s something else, and he wants her to spit it. He wants her to admit that he didn’t really need to wear this tonight, and that she only did that because she has a thing for men in leather. 

“Now be a good girl, and tell me if I really had to wear this tonight…,” Zoro smirks, one of his digit entering her as he sees her face changing into an expression full of pleasure. Yet, he doesn’t move anymore, waiting patiently. “If you tell me the truth, I swear, I’m going to take you so hard and good, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Once again, Zoro is that erotic god she can’t handle sometimes. The way he touches her tonight is far from his usual habits ; he’s slow, he takes his time to build this poisonous tension, knowing perfectly how much she desires him. He always loves to rush things and gets started almost immediately, but for once… He controls his pace, only building a greater frustration within her so he can unleash his real power right after she would admit that she had something in mind with these clothes. 

“Alright… I saw this outfit a few weeks ago and… Yes…,” She argues, feeling his finger starting to move inside of her to encourage her. “Yes, you didn’t have… But I… I like this too much, please, Zoro, stop playing with me!” 

Zoro gently laughs with his deep and broken voice, as he suddenly crashes his mouth on hers, his tongue seeking for her own, while he immediately pushes another finger inside of her, his thumb circling her clit with a vivid pace. She starts to tremble under his ministrations, her hands now unbuckling his pants and pulling them slightly down, so she can release his massive arousal and touches him as well. Yet, Zoro doesn’t let her get what she wants, and before she can have a grip on his cock, he suddenly spins her hips, gripping her nape with a strong and dominant palm to hold her in her new position, as he pushes his hips forward to press them against her rear and lets his fingers continues their work on her body. 

“No, no, no…,” Zoro hums in her ear, opening her core with a third digit. “You don’t touch me, silly girl. I’m the one in charge here, and you get what I give. Naughty lying girl like you should learn her lesson now.” 

He lets lose his grip on her neck and immediately grabs the strap of his left suspender to take it off, expertidly rolling the leather around her wrists, as he holds her hands tied behind her back. She groans, her core now more than wet, squirting under his furious pace. She suddenly cries louder, and way before Zoro can’t stop her, he feels her swollen clit getting tensed, and her fingers being squeezed inside of her. He bites her neck while he helps her to ride her first orgasm out, still touching her, somehow proud of him to play with her like this. He gently licks her earlobe, removing his hand from her sensitive area to grab his manhood and guide the head to her entrance, not even taking the time to pull down his pants entirely. He pulls on her wrists with his other hand, and uses his feet to bring her legs closer, ordering her to squeeze her thighs together while he rubs his arousal on her excited entrance. 

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name,” Zoro snarls, feeling her impatience, her body reacting delicious to his rubbing cock. “My girl who loves leather pants…,”

He plays with the suspenders restraining her wrists, sometimes drawing them towards him, adjusting his position as he suddenly slams his hips forward and enters her fully in one powerful motion, overwhelmed by the narrowness of her sweet slit. She gasps, her core deliciously tight and wet for him, before he moves his hips backwards, his cock entirely pulls out, before he thrusts back again. For a moment, he keeps doing this, mastering his pace but also his grip on her restrained arms, before he begins to pound harder, deeper, and faster. The slap of his leather pants starts to fill the room with lusty noises, along with their flesh colliding anytime he thrusts inside of her. She’s a real mess. She groans, and moans, and more than once, she even tries to open her legs a bit more, or to have some control on her body position, but Zoro makes sure that she can’t make a single movement, his cock buried in the depths of her sweet cave. He knows that he has enough stamina to make her sing for a long time, so gently, he releases her wrists after a moment, allowing her to grip the table before he pulls his cock out of her core, and spins her hips so she can face him. Once he has a proper vision on her messy face, Zoro kisses her sloppily, his tongue and teeth clenching with hers. He puts his hands behind her thigh and helps her sitting at the edge of the desk, shoving his cock back inside of her with a powerful thrust. She grips his one and only suspender, pulling on it to bring him even closer, her breathing erratic, as she parts her lips to catch some air. He loves her features, at the moment. Her gorgeous complexion, her swollen and redder lips, inviting him to have another kiss on them. Yet, Zoro prefers to dig his mouth in the crook of her neck, sucking harshly on her sensitive spot to leave purple and yellow marks, his hips moving fast and steadily, as his hand grabs her rear to adjust their position. He skims her body with his free fingers, until he comes up and brushes her lips, his head following his gestures, while he faces her again. 

“Good girl,” Zoro growls, taking her with sharp and powerful thrusts. “I want you to come for me again,” he slides his thumb against her lips, her tongue already licking the tip of his nail. “Suck it, and you’ll have it.” 

Immediately, she opens her mouth to let her tongue plays with Zoro’s thumb, while he growls harder, his pace becoming slightly erratic and uncontrollable. He digs his fingernails in her rear, his thumb deepening in her mouth, until he pulls it out and presses it between her spreaded legs, right on her swollen and already soiled nub. She rolls an arm around his neck as he starts to massage her down there, her mouth begging for a kiss. He’s more than willing to offer her, and when he begins to kiss her again, he increases his pace with both of his thumb and his hips, creating waves of shivers on her body, while she arches her back even more, moaning hard inside his mouth. He smirks, feeling deeply powerful at this particular moment, circling her nub until she eventually bursts into a deep growl, her inner walls squeezing his cock, as she reaches the Seventh Heaven for the second time. He parts his lips, looking at her blushed features and her lusty stare, pulling his cock out, his orgasm coming. He strokes himself a few times before he loads on her belly, covering her skin but also her dress with his seed, growling like a dangerous beast, catching his breath back when he’s finally done. 

“You really had to destroy my dress…,” she angrily whispers, her fingers caressing his sweating chest. 

Zoro doesn’t even try to hide his content, catching her wrist to put a kiss on the red marks caused by the leather. He knows he has been slightly harsher than usual, but he’s far from apologizing. He leaves a few kisses on her arm, coming up until he pulls on her neck skin with his teeth.

“I’ll buy you another one,” Zoro comments, his lips coming up to brush hers with slow and tender gestures. 

“You don’t have any money, loser…,” she pouts, looking at him in the eyes, yet somehow amused by the way he teases her. 

“I just need to sell these leather pants, and I’ll have some,” Zoro smirks, looking at her eyes suddenly looking down and watching at his pants and his exposed arousal. “What?” 

“Mmh.” 

Zoro raises an eyebrow, and she finally lets loose a long and fake sigh, shaking her head. 

“Don’t sell them, okay…,” 

Zoro laughs softly with his usual deep and broken voice, slamming his palm on her rear, his fingers digging in her soft skin as he comes closer. 

“Oh, I won’t.” 

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece scenarios #roronoa zoro #zoro one piece #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece headers #one piece hcs #lemon #not suitable #leather #leather kink #lipstickandbarbedwire

[thosequeenboys]

Love Is Love Is Love - Chapter 4 (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello)

Summary:  Ben, Joe and Alex prepare for Ben’s departure to film a movie in London, with all related emotions.

A/N: The next chapter will be cheerier, I promise, as the boys reunite - with some London surprises! Thanks to: @jessahmewren​ for your recent encouraging words that helped me reunite with my muse and work through this intense chapter!  You’re the Bee’s Knees! Thanks also to: @heybuddy-drabbles​ for ongoing support and listening to me kvetch while writing this chapter.  You’re the Cat’s Pajamas!

Warning:  This chapter has smut. I mean, the guys are about to be separated! It has an 18+ Only warning and a fire emoji on my Masterlist.  Some cursing too.

Tag List: @warriorteam1924​ @cardyandy​ @watercolouredreams​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​ @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​ @queensilveryrog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @marianaletosnape​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @honeymazzello​ @igotsuckedintothevoid​ @oniriquex​ @roger-hardy-taylor​ @doctorqueensanatomy​ @chocolatekisses8​

June was the best month because summer was just starting, and it stretched out carefree before them. The spring perennials had dried into brown stalks and were now replaced with hearty hydrangeas in blue and pink hues.  The neighborhood’s evening rituals prolonged the seemingly endless days:  tonguing ice cream cones before they dripped from the evening heat, racing scooters on the sidewalk, chalk drawing on the pavement, telling jokes on the stoop.  The fragrant rose bushes arched over the iron fences that framed the small front-yard gardens.  The evening activities extended into the darkness.  Finally in bed, Alex found it hard to unwind despite Ben’s patient efforts.  Lots of chatter and three books later, he finally fell asleep.

This June would be remembered for preparations surrounding the inevitable separation. While Ben put Alex to bed, Joe ventured upstairs to the ‘extra room’ where infant clothes in plastic bins and baby paraphernalia were scattered among items they seldom used. Walking through the maze of random possessions, Joe found and hefted a large suitcase and duffle bag on wheels and carried them down the steps into their bedroom.

Ben was stretched on their bed reading a script, his long legs crossed at the ankles.  He raised his eyes at Joe’s entrance.

“I kept wishing these would magically appear, but….” Joe said, easing the luggage onto the racks he had set out.

Ben nodded and resumed reading.  

“Ben, Baby, you have to talk to him.  Start preparing him. It won’t really sink in until you’re close to leaving, but… You need to get him ready to separate from you.”  Joe said.

The phrase ‘get him ready to separate from you’ made Ben feel like he was punched in the stomach. Finally, Ben spoke. “I’ve been putting it off….I didn’t want to think about it. Just focusing on the script.  Compartmentalizing. I never thought the travel, being away, would have negative implications.  It seemed par for the course and even glamorous.  An Actor’s Life. I wasn’t thinking of a family. Now, it’s tearing me up to think of being away from him…and you.” Saying it made it real.   Images of his upcoming destiny started to come into focus: he pictured being on the outskirts of the city, working on set for grueling hours every day and then alone in his London flat at night, managing the basics-meals, laundry – under a fog of exhaustion.  It was as if he had to picture it to make himself accept it. Denial can only take you so far.

Joe climbed on the bed next to him. He could tell Ben was off in another place, anticipating the trip as he hadn’t until now. “Hey,” Joe said. “Don’t think about it tonight. Be here with me.”

Joe took the script tenderly, moving the Post-it stuck on the back to the open page.  He leaned over Ben and placed it on the side table, then opened the drawer to retrieve the lube. He kneeled in front of him, tossing the lube next to them.  He slid Ben’s t-shirt up, and with a combination of mouth and hands covered every inch starting at the waist band, pushing the garment upward to access more of that delicious, toned body.  Ben raised his arms and the t-shirt was removed and tossed as Joe straddled Ben, gliding his hands softly now over the smooth, bare chest.  “Joe…” Ben said, “Just…I want to feel you in me.” Joe pulled off his own t-shirt and removed his bottoms.  Next, Ben’s sweatpants and boxers were eased off and tossed.  Sitting back on his knees between Ben’s open legs, Joe’s strong torso arched back slightly.  It exuded a perfect combination of intensity and softness, confidence and vulnerability, as would their lovemaking.   The two naked partners eyed each other. Joe grazed Ben’s thighs, easing them apart, and the blonde closed his eyes, releasing an anticipatory moan, as Joe moved his hand to his husband’s hardening manhood. He worked it a bit as Ben gasped and thrusted to Joe’s rhythmic pulls.   Joe moved his other hand tenderly along Ben’s jawline which caused his lover’s eyes to flutter.  “Look at me, Baby.” Joe said. “I want to imprint your look – your passion and lust and love for me - into my brain.” He flipped the cap of the lube open, and Ben bent and spread his knees wider to allow full access. 

Joe rolled next to Ben and started to ease his dripping fingers into him, one at a time, feeling the resistance and grasp, followed by the release, allowing him to enter deeper.  Finally, Ben whispered, “Joe… God, feels so good.  I’m ready.”

Joe kneeled in front of Ben and pulled him toward his own hardness, which he lubricated generously.  He entered Ben slowly, propping himself on an arm, his other hand on Ben’s thigh easing it wider.  They moved so right, so easily as one, each advance joining them, sealing their love deeply.  Joe resumed stroking Ben, now fully erect, as their rhythmic thrusts quickened.  “I love you, Ben,” Joe panted.  “Love you,” Ben said.  They both moaned as they released, their smooth movements becoming jerky.  They disconnected, Joe rolling next to Ben, as they faced each other and kissed passionately.

The next morning, upon waking, Joe ran his fingers through his hair, last night a glimmer and reality looming harshly. “I need to get the apartment ready for Mariel. She’ll be here in a week.”  With Ben’s extended absence, single parenting would be challenging for Joe, especially with his Netflix consultation requiring monthly trips to LA.  The baby’s eventual arrival would add a layer of complexity. They hired Mariel, an au pair from Peru eager to come to NY, who planned to eventually study graphic design.  Her references boasted that she was a warm, loving and responsible caregiver.  While Ben knew this was a necessity, he was unsettled that their triad was vanishing. Sands would be shifting over the next year as a new normal emerged-a desired and exciting new normal, indeed. They would have to carve out a new family life with the arrival of the baby. The guys decided to hold off telling Alex about the baby until they reunited in London, figuring he could only process one big change at a time, the most imminent one needing to be addressed first.

After breakfast, Ben called Alex over and hoisted him onto his lap as Joe cleared the table, his eyes trained on the two of them.

“Hey, Buddy,  I’m going to be leaving for London in a few weeks for work.  I’ll be gone over the summer, but you and Papa will visit me in the middle, so it won’t seem like that long.  And we’ll FaceTime in between, so you can tell me all about your summer.  Alex listened.  “And, the exciting thing is you’ll have someone special to keep you company-a woman named Mariel.  She’s super nice and she can’t wait to meet you.  She’ll live in the apartment downstairs. She’ll take you to gymnastics and music, and she…”  

“ I don’t want ‘she.’” Alex said matter-of-factly.  Why would he? “I go to Lon-down. Papa too.”

“I know you don’t want someone else.  But, Papa has to work and go to LA sometimes.  I’ll be working so much and wouldn’t be able to spend time with you if you lived with me in London. So, Mariel will help take care of you.  It will take some getting used to, but I know you’ll like her.” Ben encouraged.   Alex had said his piece and didn’t see a need to prolong the discussion.  In his child-like fashion, he quickly scrambled to higher, more familiar ground. “Gymnastics.” he said, sliding off of Ben and proceeding to the foyer where he sat on the bench and waited for help with his sneakers.

“That went rather well,” Ben said eyeing Joe, not trying to cover his sarcasm. He knew this was the first of many discussions, and as the day of his departure approached, there would be more emotions all around.  For now, he packed a water bottle and some snacks and joined Alex to prepare to leave.  At the kids’ gym, Ben peered through the window in the parents’ waiting area. He gave himself permission to bask in Alex’s unrelenting joy as he raised and lowered the parachute with his mates, and ran into it when it was his turn, retreating to his spot before it fell upon him, his feet moving in time to his giggles.  Ben hoped the reality of their imminent family changes would land just as gently upon him as the parachute would have, had he not escaped its billowing descent in time.

So, it went like that leading up to the separation.  They’d mention it, Alex would listen and then deflect.  Joe, meanwhile, dealt with his own onslaught of emotions by pouring his energies into helping Mariel acclimate to their routines and home, the details of which he documented copiously.  She joined their excursions and began to get comfortable with them and dote on Alex.  Ben showed Alex images of London:  double decker buses, the London Eye, Big Ben (not named for Daddy), The Princess Diana Memorial Playground-hoping to build his enthusiasm for their reunion, while reinforcing that Ben would be in another place. Alex gradually registered the images and the impending reality.  He couldn’t ignore the clues that Ben’s departure was lurking: Ben’s sudden shopping trips to pick up last-minute items and Joe throwing items into the suitcase, packing and repacking.  Then there was the vocabulary associated with travel and separation.  The worst word, Alex decided, was ‘gone.’ It was concept he couldn’t fully wrap his head around, but it had a finality and a sadness.  He knew it meant that Daddy wouldn’t be with him.

Four days before Ben’s departure, Ben and Joe woke suddenly to loud wails. “OHMYGOD,” Ben bolted out of bed in his boxer briefs and tore down the hall to Alex’s room, where he found him sitting up in bed, tears falling off his face. “Alex, are you sick??”  Ben practically dove onto the bed and wrapped him in a hug.   Joe appeared at the doorway.  “You left and didn’t say bye-bye,” Alex said through tears.

“You had a bad dream! Of course, I’ll say good-bye and I’ll hug you…..I won’t leave without saying bye-bye. I promise,” Ben reassured.

The day before his departure, Ben brought Alex to the couch.  He took two small blue microfiber pouches from his backpack.  “I got us some things to help us look forward to seeing each other and remember our times together when we’re apart.  Want to see what I got?”  Alex nodded enthusiastically.  Ben handed him a pouch and helped him loosen the strings and open it.   Alex reached in and took out a puzzle piece.  Ben retrieved a puzzle piece from his own pouch, which he inserted into Alex’s, forming an octopus.  “When we see each other, our pieces will join.  But meanwhile, each piece is waiting for the other, just like we are waiting to see each other.”  Alex nodded. He reached into the pouch and took out a little whale statue.  Ben took out a sea turtle statue.  “We both have a sea animal.” Ben noted.  “When you come to London, we’ll go to the Aquarium!” Alex smiled.  Next up were a pair of small model airplanes. “When you visit me, you’ll get to fly on an airplane, and this one,” Ben said, retrieving his own, “will bring me home to you.”  Finally, Alex reached in and pulled out a glittery firm heart.  Ben took his out too.  “These hearts remind us that even though we’re not with each other walking or talking or laughing or playing or reading, we’re still together -- in each other’s hearts.”  Ben lined his red heart up on Alex’s chest, while he eased Alex’s hand that clutched his red heart against his own chest. They smiled.  Then, Ben put the items into their respective pouches. He leaned over and kissed Alex, who wrapped his slender arms tightly around Ben’s neck. That feeling was the most important thing he wished he could stuff into his pouch.

The final morning Joe’s eyes opened at 5:45.  They had 15 minutes before Alex usually woke up and a little over an hour until Ben’s departure. He rolled over and draped his arm over Ben, who was curled up on his side facing away from him.  Joe’s other hand stroked his blonde hair.  “Hey, pretty boy, how about a treat to start the day right,” Joe cooed in his ear.   Ben rolled toward Joe onto his back and Joe’s hands followed, draping one over his chest and the other on his forehead, fingering the blonde tresses.   He moved on top of Ben, letting his weight press into him.  Ben beamed up at him, wanting to take that feeling - the heaviness, the warmth, the familiar, perfect fit - with him.  They moved together urgently, clothed in boxer briefs, kissing as soft moans escaped.   Joe latched onto Ben’s neck, sucking him slowly, leaving fresh marks, the ones from the prior night had started to fade. Ben’s mouth found its way to Joe’s neck, leaving marks as well. Time of the essence, Joe slithered down Ben, taking Ben’s boxers with him.  

“Hey,” Ben crunched his abs with a raised head.

“Are you protesting?” Joe asked.  

“No, I mean, What time is it?? Alex will be getting up….” Ben glanced sideways at the clock.  

“I’ll make it quick. Lie back. I want you to leave you with a memory of me, showing you that I love you.”  Joe took in Ben eagerly, with focus and passion.

“Oh. God. Fuck. Joe.” Ben’s voice was low, and steady, his hips rising slightly in time to his quickening heartbeat.  “Yeah, like that. Fuck. Harder,” he directed. His clipped exhales were punctuated with a rhythmic chant, “Joe. God. Harder. Joe…” Ben felt himself so close to release, his hands tugging on Joe’s auburn locks, when the unmistakable voice called out.

“Daddy? Are you leaving?” It was a sad question, with a known answer.

Joe detached himself from a heavily panting and pink Ben, who held his breath to stop making any noise, his heart beating into his throat, his stomach in a tight curl. After a deep breath, Joe uttered firmly, “Alex, we need a few minutes to get up. Go downstairs and play.  We’ll meet you soon..”

“Ok,” the soft voice padded away.

Joe glanced at Ben eager to finish him.  “I can’t, he needs me….I won’t be able to…” Ben said breathlessly, his head raised.

“You can and you will, if I have anything to do with it.” Joe said.  He wanted to please Ben and have a few more moments of intimacy, delaying the inevitable. Joe knew it was time to pull out the big guns. “I want you to come for me, with my lips wrapped around you…sucking you hard, taking all of you in.  I’ll look up at you as you thrust into me, and release into me, looking so beautiful. Can you do that for me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Ben crashed his head into the pillow, aroused again, and Joe resumed his skillful pleasuring.  He added a gentle massage of Ben’s balls, causing Ben to resume his chant between moans. Ben came, Joe’s name on his tongue as the gestures slowed, and a final kiss was granted.

“Mission accomplished.” Joe smirked, easing next to his husband.

“God, you’re amazing.” Ben said panting. Then turning to Joe, he asked, “Do you think he heard? You know, when he was outside the door?”

“Heard you cursing?  Moaning? Telling me how to get you off? Chanting my name?  Probably. Look, he’s good in math.  Eventually he’ll figure out that you cursing PLUS you moaning my name over and over TIMES you sounding slightly bossy EQUALS you having an extra spring in your step.” Joe smiled, very proud of the audible results of his handiwork.

Ben looked horrified.

Joe winked. “Don’t worry-at this age, Nah.”  He switched gears.  “I’ll duck into the bathroom quickly and then go downstairs.”  

“Joe,”  Ben said.  “I can…”

“You don’t have to….I have last night as my go-to.” A vision of their prior evening’s passion that started in the shower and ended in bed flashed before Joe’s eyes. “I wanted to give you something special to remember me when you’re away.” Joe whispered.  

“You’re imprinted in me.  All of you.  I love you so mu…” Ben stopped, overcome with emotion.  He swallowed. “We better get moving. I’ll take a quick shower.”

Joe’s hand reached for Ben’s jaw and a kiss enveloped his beautiful full lips.

There wasn’t much talking over breakfast, each of them consumed by their own emotions.  Alex ran a small car back and forth on the table, the movement distracting and soothing him.  Ben kissed his head before he made a final trip upstairs to finish his ablutions and pack a few final things.  He returned with a backpack slung over his shoulder, maneuvering the heavy suitcase. “I better call the Uber,” he said, moving the luggage to join the full duffle bag, already by the door.  Joe wiped the counter with a sponge, yet again, trying to distract himself from his own emotional onslaught.

Ben went over to Alex and sat down.  “Hey, Buddy, come here.” he tapped his knee.  Alex came over and Ben picked him up under his arms. He brought him back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.  “I have my blue pouch in my backpack, so I’ll always have it close by. You have yours on your bedside table, yeah?”  Alex nodded; his distress evident.  

“Good.  I’ll miss you and I’ll think of you every day.  We’ll FaceTime…”  Ben’s phone lit up.  The Uber was two minutes away.

Joe sidled behind Ben’s chair and rubbed his back as he stood up, easing Alex off his lap. They walked to the entry foyer and Joe took the suitcase down the stoop.  Ben grasped the backpack and duffle bag and Alex’s hand. The car pulled up just as they arrived on the sidewalk.  The driver loaded the luggage and opened the passenger door.  The three boys hugged.  

“Text me when you land,” Joe said.  

Ben nodded and then kneeled bringing Alex in for a final hug and “I love you.” Rising he brought Joe into a hug and kiss. They both uttered “I love you,” at the same time. They chuckled, and Ben peeled away.  He eased into the car and shut the door.  Joe and Alex waved to Ben who turned around and waved out the back window. 

Joe stood behind Alex and placed his arms on his shoulders. “C’mon, Babe. Let’s get ready for playgroup.  Now we’ll start counting the days until we see Dad again in London.”  Alex nodded.  He placed his hand on his chest, soothing the emotions that collected there, causing a metaphorical ache.  He didn’t need any words or pictures.  He now understood the meaning of ‘gone.’

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Ten

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 10: Familiar Things

Chapter Summary: Maybe the real coffee shops were the ones we found along the way. Or…not.

Chapter Word Count: 3469

    My new job was fine. The people were nice without being distracting, my boss gave guidance without being overbearing, and I did what I was supposed to do and got paid for it. So work was work in a satisfactory way.

Finding a new place to spend a lunch break was slightly more frustrating.

Steve: Don’t laugh at the name Steve: But the menu for this place looks good.

With only slight hesitation, I clicked on the link. And stared at the logo. And…stared some more.

Steve: You’re laughing, aren’t you Me: No Me: I’m

I couldn’t figure out how to finish that.

Me: Are you sure that’s a coffee shop and not a daycare? Steve: It says ‘coffee’ and has a menu!

I read it over, and yeah, it did, and yeah, the menu looked okay. But still.

Steve: Are you worried about your reputation?

I rolled my eyes.

Me: I’m some schlub that nobody cares about Me: The real question: would YOU be okay with someone recognizing you Me: And saying you must endorse ‘Whoa Doggy Coffee?’

His silence spoke volumes.

Me: Also Me: Who the fuck does a themed coffee shop named ‘Whoa Doggy’ Me: And DOESN’T make it western?! Steve: Why do I feel like Steve: if it was Steve: you would show up in a cowboy hat Me: *We Me: I know a shitty tourist stall that sells them Steve: Then this was a blessing in disguise Steve: But that mascot’s going to haunt my dreams Me: Same

I checked the clock. There wasn’t a whole lot of time before I took my break.

Me: There’s a crummy Starbucks a few blocks away Me: Drinks are meh but it’s surprisingly quiet Steve: That’ll work Steve: Give me cross streets and I’ll meet you there

~

The Starbucks That Corporate Forgot was fine for an ‘in the meantime,’ but I was really hoping for another place with nice people behind the counter and good stuff to drink and eat that also wasn’t far from my work. I had thought of coffee shops in New York as a dime a dozen, but I was pretty wrong, apparently. On some recommendations Steve had gotten we went to actual lunch a few times and it was nice. The food, at least, was fine, but all of it was a little pricey for me to want to make it a habit. And if we could find the right coffee shop, we could keep up a habit that I liked without hurting my wallet. I hoped.

The first place I picked out was a very generic coffee shop with a forgettable name. The drinks, though, were so bad that Steve and I took our respective sips and then spent the rest of our time together using my phone to find anywhere else but there.

Steve found a place that seemed fine but the guys behind the counter recognized him and were such assholes about it, it was like Steve had personally trampled their dicks in effort to destroy their oh-so-sturdy manhood. He kept it together pretty well while I felt like a static-charged cat, but when they started to turn their attention towards me I felt Steve stiffen up and I yanked him out of there before we could end up as a Jerry Springer special.

“It’s not that good,” Steve muttered into his cup after we had appropriated a table at a random food place.

“Tastes like bitter projection and manly, manly tears,” I said and sipped slowly. It made him laugh, at least, and his shoulders stopped looking so much like a straight line.

“I hear that much salt is bad for you though,” he said and winked at me.

I choked so hard he had to pat my back to help me breathe again.

~

I picked out a place I thought looked great. Unfortunately, the rest of the city apparently thought the same. The place was so busy Steve was easily lost in the crowd which, on one hand, great, good, wonderful, fantastic. On the other hand, the shop was small and hot and conversations dipped in and out, bleeding and merging into a cacophony that felt as oppressive as the bodies surrounding me.

I held out long enough to order and then, despite how fast the drinks were being made, looked outside for somewhere else to stand. I found it in a spot right near the window and gave Steve some excuse about how I would just be a second, and then made my escape.

I was catching my breath a few steps away from the glass, in some shade, when someone tapped my shoulder and I looked up just as Steve slid a cup into my hands. “Oh, I’m–” I closed my grip. “I’m sorry Steve.”

“It’s all right.” His hand was large and warm on my back, but I didn’t want to shrink away. “Let’s take a walk.”

It was better than scrounging for a broken table in a place I couldn’t even look at comfortably, so I nodded and we started walking. Steve acted as a buffer between me and the street and I waited to level out. The drink was really good. Too bad.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.” I checked the time. We had plenty of it. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to skip out, I just needed some air.”

“Was it someone in there?” he asked in a tone that suggested he would be doing an about-face if I said anything resembling ‘yes.’

“No, just…the amount of people. I couldn’t handle it,” I said.

He lost the ‘choose your fighter’ stance. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t go to clubs that often,” I said. “Sometimes I can handle ridiculous crowds and sometimes I can’t. I tend to avoid them in general; I don’t really like people that close if I can help it.”

“Oh,” he said and I knew what he was about to do, so I tugged his shirt just as he tried to step to the side.

“Don’t,” I said. “It’s strangers I don’t like; you’re fine.”

“Oh,” he said, and he sounded so pleased that I had to look.

His smile matched his tone and was so sweet that I smiled too. “What?” I asked him.

“Nothing,” he said. But he couldn’t help himself for long. “People say I’m imposing.”

“People who don’t know you’re just a giant dork.”

“Most people.”

“So only…” I did a quick estimate, “…Maybe ten people know what a dork you are?” Because there weren't that many Avengers, right?

“More like you, Sam, and Natasha.”

Okay, there were definitely more Avengers than that. “What about your other friends?” Or maybe that was the problem. “Co-workers?” Did Avengers get paid? “…Teammates?”

Steve flashed me a bemused smile. “Do your co-workers know what a dork you are?”

“More than I like,” I admitted. “But it’s always only ever a matter of time.”

“Well, we don’t…” He shrugged. “They’re all busy; they have jobs, partners; lives. We train sometimes, and Coulson wrangles us in sometimes for a group dinner.”

“So they’ve met you more than once and still don’t know you’re a dweeb?”

He shifted. “What time is it?”

“We’re already heading back.” I wrapped both of my arms around one of his. “You can walk me.”

“Are you trying to make sure you can charge me for the full hour?” he asked dryly but didn’t try to shake me off.

“There’s not enough money in the world to make me your therapist.” I gave his arm one good squeeze and let go. “We’re just two friends, shooting the shit. Or I guess we can talk shit, if you want, but I’ll have no idea who you’re talking about.”

He laughed a little. “No, I don’t– they’re all good people, and I wish I knew them better,” he admitted and we came to a stop. “But we’re different people, so it’s slow. But it’s fine.”

“Hm.”

He smiled at me and then nodded forward. At my building. “Have a nice day at work.”

I snorted. “Thanks, honey.” But that sounded so weird we both cracked up.

“How is the job, though? Is it good?” he asked.

“I do my job, I get paid.” I shrugged. “That’s all I really care about. So in that sense, yeah. It’s good.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s working out,” he said. There was a slight buzzing and I felt over my pocket, just in case, but he pulled out his phone and I caught a brief look at a vaguely familiar logo lit up on the screen. Steve sighed and looked at me like he was already tired. “This is probably something.”

I nodded and stepped back to give him some space. “Be safe. I’ll check out some places while you’re gone.”

“I can’t wait to try them out,” he said, saluted, and ran off.

Dork. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day, and eventually gave in and texted him.

Me: If you come back hurt I’m dragging you to that stupid doggy coffee shop. In a cowboy hat. Steve: Consider me bulletproof Steve: Going dark. See you soon

He had better, I thought, and went back to work with what little focus I could manage to scrounge up.

~

I tried a couple of places but neither of them were all that great and I had to admit to myself that my heart wasn’t in it. I checked the news but didn’t see anything Steve might have been involved with, and that just made me more anxious, so I did everything I could think of to distract myself. Steve was a loser but he had a good reputation for a reason, so I had to trust that Captain America would handle his shit so that my friend could come home.

About a week after he had run off, I was stretching at my desk in the mid-morning when I got a text.

Steve: Hi Steve: Back home

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Me: Good Me: Hale and hearty and healthy? Steve: Perfectly fine Steve: :) Steve: Find a new lunch place yet?

I sighed for an entirely different reason.

Me: Knocked some places out Me: There was a tea/coffee place that had promise Me: But I can never snag a fucking table Me: Also it’s so fluorescent it hurts my eyes. Steve: Okay Morticia

I smiled and sent him a line of thumbs up emojis. I looked nothing like, but as far as my overall personality and aesthetic, that felt like a nice compliment that required some thanks.

Steve: I have an idea

He then sent me an address, which I looked up, and…okay?

Me: A bookstore?

Not that I was complaining, but it looked like a small second-hand shop and showed no sign of having anything but books.

(I made a note to myself to check it out on the weekend, though.)

Steve: Trust me Me: Okay Me: Is 11 okay? Got meetings this afternoon Steve: Okay Steve: I’ll meet you there Me:  :) Steve: ?! Steve: A smile?! Me: Shut up Me: B O O K S Steve: Okay Belle

I laughed. Jerk.

~

I got there about five minutes early and he still managed to be waiting. Despite being his usual self, he also managed to blend in well enough that when I first scanned the street I almost missed him. He was slouched against the wall, and when I did a double-take he pushed off the brick and walked towards me.

I couldn’t help but look him over. He looked good. Satisfied. “Do I pass inspection?” he asked jokingly.

“Meh,” I decided and looked around. The shop itself even blended into that same wall, a true hidden gem I couldn’t wait to get my sticky fingers all over.

“You still have to go back to work,” Steve reminded me as he opened the door.

“And I can’t buy books if I have no money,” I said and sighed. In the shop, though, small and crowded with books, inhaling brought in that familiar thick and slightly musty scent, but it wasn’t overwhelming, and was that a hint of new I smelled? Ah; there was a bargain bin of unsold Barnes and Noble refugees. Also…there was, in fact, coffee. Somewhere. I scanned what I could see but saw no sign of anything coffee-related, not even a cup at the cash register. I turned to Steve to ask, but he was covering the lower half of his face with both hands as his shoulders shook and his eyes gliste– was he crying?

Not quite, but close enough, and I put my hands on my hips while he calmed down, but even calmed down his smile was big and wide and made him look like a complete doofus. It was my new favorite expression. Not that I’d ever tell him. “What?”

“You, treating a bookstore like a sommelier treats wine,” he said, chuckling.

Oh. I had said that…out loud. I ducked my head, but it didn’t feel like he was making fun of me; he sounded fond, and that made it better when nudged me. “It was cute,” he said and started moving. “Come on.”

I followed behind, past piles of books and through shelves that almost reached the ceiling. We popped out of the aisle into a little corner pocket that hosted some arm chairs and side tables and the smallest coffee cart I had ever seen. It stuck out next to a wall and a curtain-covered opening, behind which there was a sound of clanking dishes. The people populating the seats were almost all elderly, aside from one balding businessman, and I smirked at Steve.

He rolled his eyes like I didn’t have to say it. Good, because it was quieter than a library and we piped down accordingly. He pointed to an empty set of cozy chairs and I followed the gesture to claim the seats while he went to the tiny counter. Nearby a couple of people argued in low voices. When I heard “writes like shit” I tried to eavesdrop, but Steve came back with two mismatched ceramic mugs filled with steaming hot coffee and sat down in the other chair, blocking them.

“Thanks.” The smell was great and I just sat with cup in hand, inhaling, for several seconds. Until I caught sight of Steve, staring at me and smiling like the Mona Lisa. I hid my mouth with the cup and took a sip. It was really good. I set it on the small table between us and said softly, “You look pretty pleased with yourself.”

“Do I?” he asked just as softly, his smile unwavering.

I looked around the room where all conversation had died in favor of reading. I held up my phone to Steve in warning and then started to text.

Me: Maybe not an everyday place Me: But a good option if we don’t feel chatty

He smiled wider at me. And stayed that way. I tilted my head in a silent ‘what?’ and he shook his head, but he texted back.

Steve: I like that it’s an option Steve: That we’re comfortable enough to sit quietly together Steve: It’s nice

It wasn’t like this was the first time we had ever sat in silence together, but he seemed to be having a good moment so I refrained from pointing that out.

Me: It is nice Me: But I think you just like getting me to shut up Steve: That’s just a bonus

And an angel emoji. The bastard.

Me: There has never been a more poorly matched emoji to person than that to you

He responded by sending three lines of them and I had to suffocate myself to keep from disturbing the peace.

Me: I hate you

He flashed me a brilliant smile. It had a dorky undertone though, so I knew it was genuine.

Steve: No you don’t

No, I didn’t. And shame on me for ever letting him know that. Still, he had done good with his find, and the coffee was excellent, so I let him be a self-satisfied little shit. For the moment.

~

I was running late.

Granted, it was my own lunch break and it wasn’t like I had to cut it short, but it was annoying. I was meeting Steve at the crummy Starbucks and he had mentioned having things to do that afternoon, and I hated being held up on my breaks. Especially by stupid people.

As soon as I stepped in I scanned the place for Steve. I didn’t see him at first but when I checked again I saw him in our usual corner. Talking to somebody else.

It didn’t look like when he was talking to a fan; it looked like he was having a meeting, with a woman in a nice suit, whose strawberry blonde hair was so perfectly brushed I ran my hand over my own head in reflex.

Steve lifted his head, saw me, smiled, and waved for me to come over. The woman turned her head to watch me approach, which I did. Slowly.

“Hi,” I said to him, trying not to glance at her and failing. “Should I…go somewhere else for now?”

“No, we’re just–” Steve stood up so fast he hit the table and made it jump. He caught it with both hands and set it down gently so his coffee didn’t spill. He smiled sheepishly at his tablemate. “Sorry Pepper.”

“It’s all right,” she replied with some amusement, travel container in hand. She set it back down and then extended her hand to me. “Pepper Potts.”

I introduced myself and shook her hand. Hopefully that was a good amount of pressure– I never knew if I was doing it right. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you too,” she said and let go. “Steve says good things.”

Steve talked about me? I shorted out for a second, wondering what he could possibly have to say, and he shifted. “We’re just finishing up,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it after.”

“Okay, I–” I stopped when I saw the raised eyebrow Pepper was aiming at Steve. “Not okay?”

“No, it’s okay.” Steve smiled reassuringly at Pepper. “She’s the one I told. First.”

“Oh.” Then Pepper aimed her look at me, both eyebrows raised.

I had no idea what to make of that. “I’ll just…go get something to drink?”

“Good luck,” Steve said and I rolled my eyes but I left them alone. I got a simple iced coffee, since the staff couldn’t be bothered to figure out how to properly use a fucking blender. At least this time my ice chunks would be expected.

When I got back, she was gone. I felt a little bad for how much that relaxed me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said as I sat down.

“You weren't. Pepper and I were going to meet later but apparently something came up, so she tracked me down,” Steve said, fidgeting with his cup.

I looked around. No one. I turned back to Steve and scooted closer. “So you’re…gonna go for it?”

He bobbed his head. “We’re planning it now.” He sat back and tried to smile, but it was a nervous expression. “Whether I like it or not, it’s going to be a…thing. So we’re trying to make it less daunting.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’ve got help,” I said.

“Yeah.” His smile grew more solid. “I’ve got good people around.”

“Good. That’s good,” I said. Steve kept staring at me though, with that smile. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.” He took a swig of his plain hot coffee– about the only drink we were absolutely certain they could manage here– and nodded at my drink. “How was your roll of the dice today?”

I took a sip. It was actually perfect. That wasn’t too terribly surprising since I had added the cream myself, but pleasant all the same. “Nat 20.”

He frowned. I grinned. “Are you ready for the next reference you can drop to make your friend Tony’s head explode?”

Steve leaned in, eager and ready to learn.

~

The next time we got together, Steve proudly played me his new ringtone, which consisted of a man screeching “Where did you learn that?!” and a burst of laughter, loud but cut short by the end of the recording.

I held my face in my hands. I was still laughing. “You are such a jerk.”

“Thanks, your Highness.” I could hear the smile in his voice. I didn’t know whether to be proud of my creation, or terrified. Maybe both.

“…Play it again.”

He did so, happily.

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