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neonovember · 1 year

Text

All of you

mafia!au

summary; you didn’t mean to get them that angry, or get one of their men killed, but they’ll let you blame it on your insatiablity anyway.

warnings; smut, piv, asphyxiation, degradation, over stimulation, steve gets really rough, pet names, dumbification, mean steve, steve and bucky even being together in the same room, violence and mentions of death

a/n; I didn’t want to post part 1 without posting part 2. That’s it. Bucky and especially Steve are a little deranged in this, heed the warnings, please. Your media is your consumption, you have been warned!

It takes a while, takes you putting on one of Bucky’s favourite vinyls, twirling around in this useless big chair until your head was spinning before Ferguson showed up for his court-appointed presence.

You begin your silent seduction, like prey to a predator, you drop the bait and count on the man to be dumb enough to take it. And boy does he lead himself into it all on his own.

You compliment his stature, gush over his muscles, and beg him to flex them, all while you fiend innocence. As if this man ever would compare to your boys.

You hear the rev of an engine nearby, the sound of it so familiar to you that it fills you with warmth. They were home, or at least on the gravel road that lead to it.

You realised you had to amp it up if you wanted not only Bucky, but Steve, to be mad, really mad, not just the forgery they’d act with you, they had to believe this man truly thought he had a chance with you.

You slowly unbutton the back of your top, letting it hang loosely to display the red ink that trailed down your spine. You waited for the French doors to open, hearing the familiar footsteps run up the stairs and for a moment a feeling of guilt washed over you, they wanted to see you, and here you were playing mind games.

The flutter of the white curtains streaming in the moonlight reminds you however of the endless nights you’d stare through those same window panes, waiting, wishing your boys were home if not safe.

This was simply karmic justice.

“Would you mind buttoning up my shirt, it seemed to come undone somehow” You giggle, pushing your coils to the side.

He isn’t able to reach the second button before you hear the door bang open, bouncing back from the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing” Bucky growls, his chest heaving up and down, the crisp white shirt is rolled to his elbows, and suspicious red splotches scatter the collar of it.

Thomas fumbles, his fingers latching back from your shit as if you were poison, he gulps loudly, the wrath of Bucky's rage that he knew all too well, now directed at him.

“Uh, she asked-” Thomas begins, poor little Thomas, too stupid to know when to keep his hands to himself and even more stupid to know when to keep his mouth shut

Bucky doesn't let him finish, the last of his composure crumbling and he reaches for Thomas, ribbing him for being you and dragging him out of the room. There is a scurry, one Bucky has conveniently muffled through the shut office doors, but you hear the anguished screams nonetheless before he appears again in front of you.

His dark strands fall in front of his eyes, but they do little to hinder the fire burning within them, deep embers of navy blue that seem almost silver under the low light. You know when a job has been particularly bad by Bucky’s hair, and with the way it was falling apart from the haphazard bun at the back, told you it was worse than bad.

You can practically see his body vibrating, mixed with the lasting adrenaline of what you believed Sam was dealing with right now and the anger of seeing another man be near those same tattoos Steve has inked onto your skin.

He slowly walks towards you, the same boots splattered with blood now pressing into the carpet floor, black copper orbs stare down at you, unblinking as they took you in, and sucked you into their depth.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to explain yourself, doll, and explain yourself good because I don’t have time for fucking jokes right now” He growls, gripping your waist and pulling you into him.

You stare at him blankly, displaying a hoax of ignorance and confusion as you furrow your brows.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about Bucky, he was simply helping me button my shirt” You reply huskily, his grip of your waist tightens and his strands fall in front of his eyes. He shakes his head, nodding, understanding what this now was.

“So we’re doing this now huh?, After I just told you the day we’ve had?” bucky scoffs, eyes falling to your outfit, nodding appreciably at the lack of underwear.

“Okay, it’s your call baby doll, this is all you, you just wait, I’m sure Steve is finished with Ferguson right about now” Bucky smiles, licking his lips as he turns from you, leaning onto the desk. His eyes flicker to the glass of half-drunk bourbon and his eyes darken impossibly more.

The excitement, you were giddy with it. It poured into your stomach and fluttered around like butterflies, burning greater than the bourbon ever did. You could practically feel yourself tingling, at the tips of your fingers, the electrostatic heat and pulse of pleasure. All you needed was the final push.

And just like clockwork, Steve strolls into the room, his knuckles bloodied and his collar splattered with red. It takes one glance between Steve and Bucky to know what you were doing, their eyes communicating in the way words never could. They both nod towards you, before Steve slowly walks towards where you’re standing.

“What were you thinking, hm doll?” Steve asks silently, eyes calculating as they racked over your body.

“Answer me when I speak to you,” He says hushedly. The fear fills you, Steve isn’t scary when he’s enraged when he’s red with frustration. He’s scary when he’s silent. When he masks his face so that it remains like unmoulded clay. His eyes smiling, fucking smiling because he can smell the fear on you and he loves it, he craves the skin of yours shivering under the moonlight.

“I was just, talking to him, it’s not my fault! You both left me alone and the only man that was capable was him” You reply, friending innocence as you fluttered your eyes at him.

He smiles at that, pulling his white button sleeves to his elbows. Unfastening his tie so it lay lazily around his neck. He carefully paced his suit jacket on the coach. Before turning towards you again.

“Bucky, today wasn’t a good day was it?” He says staring directly at you.

“No, I don’t believe it was” Bucky grunts arms crossed as he grinned

“You see darling, some of our men got hurt, important men, men I needed to be alive. It caused us a real headache, a lot of blood on our hands and necks, a lot of inefficiencies that clogged up our production. Filth, and greed, just ruining our goddamn night.”

“And image our surprise, when the one thing we counted on, the one thing that would make it even a little better, made it fucking worse.” Steve grins, pulling your hair into a bun, his hands gliding down the slope of your face before pushing into your mouth.

You suck on them gleefully, looking towards him in pleasured relief. Whilst it seems impossible, his eyes darken even more than Bucky’s. Darken to a colour you’ve never seen before, a colour and depth reserved for his night dealings and empire.

You could practically feel it glide down your thighs. Steve’s hand twitches, and you know he can sense it too, your amounting pleasure building up to the tip of release with just his words.

He’s resisting, and you don’t want him to.

“I didn’t wait hours on the both of you, for you to just scold me” You begin to cross your arms against your chest, head back as you looked up into Steve’s.

“Sit down” He whispers, the words barely leaving his lips

You snort, swaying your hips like the tail of a temptress, reaching for the door handle to leave.

“If you won't satisfy me, I’ll find someone who will” You preen, eaging them on further.

It’s futile, you can feel the heat of Steve’s grip before his thick fingers even wrap around your waist.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Steve barks, annoyance lacing his tone. You can tell with the clench of his jaw that his anger is simmering just beneath the surface.

“You don’t want us angry baby doll, you remember last time?” Bucky grins, canines glinting in the moonlight, a wolf-life expression shines over his features.

Oh you remember last time, a mere rarity of sheer fucking that was nowhere near the sensual agonising heat you were used to. A rarity that came only when a particularly bad night had occurred, where they had almost lost you. Filled with betrayal and loss, that night had bled through both Steve and Bucky, until it was stained all over you, your thighs, your neck, your pussy.

“What if I want it like last time?” You whisper, looking at both of them in defiance. Your candour causes Steve to stiffen behind you, a momentary pause in his brain, a short circuit, a daunting realisation before a final knowing.

You hear a grunt pass through Steve’s lips, a silent “fuck” from Bucky’s.

He knows they both did, eyes shining towards each other, faces unreadable as they caught glimpses of their sweet girl for who she really was.

Steve hands you to Bucky as if your thick thighs and hips merely weighed nothing, Bucky moves towards the large armchair that’s positioned across the sofa. Steve sits across from you, legs spread apart as he rests his outstretched hands across the spine of the leather. Bucky sits you down between his legs, before repositioning you to straddle one of his thighs. You look up in bewilderment, and you know confusion covers your features when Steve grins, nodding.

“You want to get yourself off so bad with these wolves, why don’t you take some initiative. Show us how bad you want this, show us how bad you’ve been needing” Steve smirks leaning back.

“Go on, pretty girl, I’m all yours” Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear. Pressed kisses down the slope of your neck before biting your ear lip, causing you to yelp, indirectly causing a delicious friction against Bucky’s bludge that has both of you groaning.

Bucky rests his hands on your waist, not applying any pressure yet, as you begin to drag your hips against his pantsuit. You throw your head back against Bucky’s curls, gripping his thighs as you speed up your ministrations.

The folds of the fabric create friction that rubs against your pulsing clit, and the sticky need of your arousal leaks from the sides of your inner thighs, dampening Bucky’s pants and creating the perfect slick for you to go faster.

“Just like that doll, get yourself off on Bucky’s thigh, I know you can do it, fucking show me” Groans Steve, hes eyes never leaving your own.

The scent of you has Bucky groaning with his head back, and as you begin moving your hips into Bucky’s leg, he tenses the muscle causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, the building of pleasure reaching a cliff.

“Open your eyes doll, I want to see every single expression you make” Steve growls from the sofa, through your bounds of pleasure you had almost forgotten he was there, watching.

The scene that opens to you almost has you climaxing itself, there he was, looking through hooded eyes into the junction of your thighs as they grounded against Bucky's.

His hands had slipped into his pants, and you watch him pump himself to your pleasure, his thick fingers gripping the shaft, rolling the pearl of premium against his head and squeezing tight.

“P-Please” You groan, head tilted back, you were so close, the motion of your hips now almost mechanical, moving unconsciously as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Please what baby? You’re gonna have to be a bit clearer than that, I want to hear exactly what you want” Bucky smirks into your skin.

“Harder, faster, fuck just I need it, I need you Bucky!” You cry out, reaching for his thick finger to give you the roughness you need.

“That's all you’ve got to say” Bucky whispers as he circles his hands across your hips, gripping them, bringing them down, hard against his thigh.

You moan out pleas of gratitude, the pleasure taking you into a wordless heap of gurgles “yes yes yes”.

Bucky drags your pussy against him, unrelenting even as you squirm against his hold, thighs attempting to close but to no avail, Steve grips them open, making you take everything.

You hold onto Bucky's broad shoulders, anchoring you to this world, all you could do now was take it, drink down the waves of pleasure that seemed unrelenting, pleasure as deep as the pacific.

Steves moves closer, slipping his thick hands between your thighs, dragging his ring-encrusted digits across your folds, collecting your arousal before bringing it to his lips, he looks you dead in the eye as he sucks, hard.

“Fuckin delicious” He moans, eyes half-lidded. You watch, mouth agape, and it takes one more rough glide from Bucky before your falling apart in front of them.

Your eyes squeeze shut, gripping Buck’s locks as he grunts into you, white-hot saccharine pleasure engulfs your vision, blinding you temporarily. You don't speak, you don’t move, you simply sway against the current, you hear the murmur of Steves's voice calling your name, coaxing you back to the ground.

“You all there baby girl? Hm?” Steve hushes, and your head hits something plush and velvet, nothing like the broad expanse of Bucky’s chest. They seemed to have moved you while you were recovering, you hadn't even noticed.

“Haven't even put my fingers in you and you're already a puddle in my hands, what happened to the fiery girl before, you give up already?” Steve smirks, instigating you.

“Hmph, iss only cause it was me, you think your small dicks can make me cum?” You giggle, high off of the smell of sex and desperation permeating the air.

“Is that right baby? Hm? How about we prove it” Bucky smirks before he roughly reaches for you, dragging you to the edge of the mahogany desk, before tossing ypu to Steve.

Steve picks you up, flipping you acorss his shoulder as he begins to make his way from the offcie and into the darkned hallway.

“Where are we going” You groan, hyour thighs are still shaking from the orgasm Bucky had given you, surely they didnt want another round?

Steves hand comes down, hard againts your basckside, the sound vibrates across the house, and shoots directly to your core. Steve had never touched you like this, with a sliver of pain mixed and folded into pleasure, but you liked it, hell you fucking loved it

“Don’t you fucking open that slutty mouth of yours, what? you thought we were done?” Steve laughs palm coming down again, cereminously.

“We’ve got the whole night to open you right up doll, have your pussy fuckiing weeping after were done” Steve promises, hands sqeezing the curve your ass, the heat spreading up your back.

The only vision you have is the back of Steves dress shoes, the encrusted signange at the heel, the silver metal snake glinting againts the mostly dark surroundings. Buckys shoes follow, you can make ut his hands, glistening with your pleasure, the veins runnings long his arms pressing into the pockets of his pants.

Before long Steve drops you onot the plush covers of your bed, but before you are able to bury yourself into the soft quilt, Bucky rougly turns your around, before pressing tinot rh mattress, thighs between your closed legs, that Steve grips open.

His glistenign fingers reach up to yoiur pants, ripping them open and he drags them down your thighs

“Tsk, tsk tsk, no panties? It's like she knew what was going to happen” Bucky smirks towards Steve, your back againts his chest as he leaves brusiing kissses along the slope of your neck.

Steve hums in response, “Our girl? Our sweet, innocent girl? she would never”

“That's right, this isn't our sweet girl, isn't that right?” Bucky whispers into the skin of your thighs, gliding his tongue along the curve of it, before begining to bite and suck at the skin right near your quivering folds.

God why couldt he just move a little bit further?

You golt forward, into Bucky as Steve lands a slap against your pussy, hand reaching between your body, doing it again and again and again until you were weeping, eeys squeezed shut and head hanigng againts Steves warm chest.

“Answer Bucky when he speaks to you” He growls, dipping a thick digit into your folds, swirling your slick around clit, before circling his fingers. You moan anabasdhedly, unaware of how goddamn loud you were being in the ince quiet house.

“Do we need to teach you some manners doll? Hm? Stuff that pretty hole full so we can get some respect?” Steve whispers into your ear, adding a second digit, the cool metal of his rings pressing againts the opening of your hole, you preen, so fucking close you can taste the orgasm and your tongue.

Steve curls his fingers, gliding them againts your velvet walls, and Bucky moves closer, hes faint breath againts your clit that has you gustling againts both their bodies. Bucky holds you still, his hands gripping your waist, pushing your arched back into the mattress and he sucks on your clit.

He groans in appreciaiton, the sound vibrating through your core and it has you screaming his name is earnest. Steve continues to assault your folds, pressing further until he finds the spong spot that has you prrssing your fingers into his arm, trying and failing, to shove his fingers away from you. Tears begin to blur your vision, the cwnterpiece chandilier know but a muffle of lights, but god does it feel good. It burns you, it brands you, this aching pleasure, the overstimualtion of Steevs, his stumble ctaches most of it, the rough hairs scratching againts the softness of your thighs.

Your juices leak between Steves fingers, dripping down and spearing across Buckys chinpressing his hands into your thighs.

A muffled moan escapes your mouth as you try and suppress the growing need spreading beginning to uncurl. The blinding hot pleasure begins to build, and just as you feel it slding againts your back, Steve retracts his fingrs from your pussy, and Bucky lets go of your clit with a pop.

The ahce of emptiness hurts you more than their overstimualtion, and yur reaching for thier fingers and face quickly, whines leaving your mouth as your cheeks trail with tears.

Bucky pushes your hands away, into steves grip who lift them over your shoulder, holding them together in one hand.

“You wont be cumming on anything other than our dicks tonight sweetheart”Bucky smiles, his smirk widens, as your greddily oush your hips into his crotch, neded any friction.

Bucky pushes his cothed cock againts your pussy, the outline of his hard cock pushing againts your clit.

“God look at her Bucky, so fucking needy” Steve groans, watching your hips begin to move, aagin againts Bucky’s boner.

“If I’d known this would keep your mouth shut and preseting, well, doll, i wouldve done this ages ago”. Bucky replies, eyes never leaving your lidden ones.

Buckdoesnt waste a second ripping his suit pants off, pulling his hardened cock out as it smacks againts his stomach. For a moment you froget how thick he is, the angry red tip of it leaking with precum, dripping along thr slides that were ripled with distinct veins that followed to the cut of his obliques.

As if reading your mind Bucky softly smirks, lfitng your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips

“Oh baby, ill make sure it fits, il make sure you get every fucking inch and then some” Bucky replies, the juxtaposition of his soft tocuh and his hrds words has you dripping.

Gripping your knees within his grasp, Steve contours your body impossibly wider, giving Bucky enough room to press his entire body against you. His head nudges against your folds, collecting the slick cum dripping from your core, before roughly pushing in, leaving no room to get adjusted.

You both groan, as your pussy welcomes him, the flutter of your walls squeezing his dick. Bucky’s eyes are screwed shut, and you force yours to stay open as you watch, mesmerized as he pressed his canines into redded lips.

“God, shit, every time we open your pretty little pussy up it just never gets used to us huh? So fucking tight, she’s gripping me like a fucking vice Stevie” Bucky groans loudly, jaw clenched and fingers pressed into the underside of your thighs.

It was no surprise that Bucky and Steve were.. big, to say the least. They’d always known that needed to give you a few seconds to get used to their sheer size, but no, as bucky begins to pound against your slick walls, groaning at your warmth and softness you understand they have abandoned all traditions.

Every rough glide of Bucky's cock through your folds has you moaning in ecstasy, as the burn of his thick shaft presses against your walls. You smash into Steve’s back with every thrust, shoving every inch of himself even deeper into you, Steves's rough fingers come to squeeze your nipples, rolling them between his patted fingers, pulling hard, before letting go.

“Nnnph” You cry out, hands resisting against Steve’s grip, you attempt to close your legs, but it pulls Bucky even deeper, leaving him groaning and sheathing his cock so it circled your walls.

“Don’t go running away now bunny, Bucky’s filling you right up, you should say thank you”. Steve replies cocking his head to the aide, grinning before sneaking his hand to grip your cheeks, squeezing them hard between his fingers.

You cant reply, you cant even speak, the pleasure overwheling you as Bucky rougly shoves his fat cock up to the hilt, your arousal creaming around the base, so fucking wet and messy that it has him almost slipping out.

A hard burn erupts on your cheek, the stinging sensation going straight to your core, Steve slaps you, again, this time harsher as he berates you loudly.

“You dumb bunny, what did i say about repeating myswelf, go on, say thank you to Bucky”

You struggle to keep your eyes open, the thin lids seem to heavy now, Steve squeezes your cheeks again, the rings on his fingers pressing imprints onto your cheekbone, and yu somehow manage to cry out.

“T-thank you, Thank you, thank you!” You moan, the words fallling out of your mouth mechanically.

The mere words leave you echausted, and you slump againts Steve’s broad chest, the only help of his arms holding your knees up. You’ve given up countign how many times Bucky has left you wailing, the sleek of your orgasm just edging him on.

Holding your knees up to your chest bucky presses his cok in a new direction, pressing rougly againts the soft spongy spot

“Oh God!, oh, oh, Bucky please, I can't do anymore- mh” You yelp as Bucky bites into your thigh, grinning as he sucks onto the skin.

“You just feel so good doll, so fucking good, can you give me another one? hm? can you please? I need it, fuck I need you to milk me with those creamy fucking walls” Bucky groans, refusing to falter his movements, harsh thrust bumping the head of cock against your g-spot, your thighs quiver violently, and it isn't soon before your cumming again, milking his cock, your walls tightening around him.

“That's right, milk my fucking cock you slut, got you so dumb and full you can't even form words, you've learnt your place haven't you, doll? Bucky questions his hands coming to push your hair out of your face. You are way in out of your mind to even reply, drool dripping from the corner f your mouth, shaking in a heap of cum and spit.

“So good, baby, so fucking good, I outa give you something back aren't I?” Bucky smiles, eyes falling to the nudge of his cock against your soft stomach. The greys of his pupils darken as he watches, and his curls begin to fall across his face, sticking to his forehead.

“You gonna let me cum in you? Huh? Let me feed this greedy little hole who has been crying for it all night?” Bucky sneers, and your pussy tightens around him in return, leaving him to grip your thighs, red crevices forming into your skin.

Moaning in approval, Bucky fastens his pace, shoving himself in and out without much less than a second, you tighten your walls again, causing obscenities to leave buckys mouth.

“Please Bucky, give it to me, fill me up, I want it, I want to need it”You cry out. It doesn't take long before Bucky empties into you, thick ropes of cum shooting into your pussy, coating your walls, before oozing out of the sides of his fat cock. Bucky watches intently as the mix of both of your arousal slides down your fluttering folds, damping the dark sheets below.

Lost in your pleasure you don’t recognise when Steve had pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your face between his large hands. He looks down intently at you, a blown out expression over his features as he takes in your shallow breaths and test stricken face tracked with dirty mascara.

Steve begins to push your hair back from your face, brushing your tears from your cheeks with his thumb, you think this is a hidden gesture, to show his un wielding desire to care for you. You feel him begin to grip your hair however, pulling you down onto your knees on the cold hardwood floor with one hand.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his unwiedling grip at the back of your head as you look up at him on your knees. It’s a sight to behold, one Bucky not so subtlety captures on a point and shoot. You sit patiently, looking up at Steve through hooded eyes, lazy and dumb from Bucky’s cock.

Steve hums silently, before softly speaking with a grin crarcking thigh his features unnaturally

“Do you think you can fit this cock down that pretty little throat?” Steve smirks, pumping his cock at your salvating expression.

You nod quickly beginning to reach towards him, eager to feel his heavy weight againts your tongue, to trail the long vein along its side and choke againts its girth.

Steve pulls you back violently, corsding his head disapprovingly

“No touching, I’m in control now baby doll, do you understand me? If I even see you begin to move shove your panties in that mouth and lock you in a room for 2 weeks” Steve warns, a dark expression overcoming his face as he cocks his head to the side.

You look over his broad shoulders to see Bucky fucking up into your panties, he catches your eyes with a smirk, winking at your open mouth shock.

“Does your dumb brain understand? Or are you too fucked out of your own mind to even listen” Steve growls at you silence, his grip tightening, shooting a pain down your skull.

You nodded quickly, hands behind your back for emphasis, you needed his cock, you needed so fucking badly.

“Use your big words, cmon you can do it” Steve teases cruelly, smirking down at your needy face, you’ve begun to rock against your palm, Steve’s degradation causes your to shudder in response, clenching against your own hand.

“Yes I unders-“ You let out before Steve slams his cock down your throat, groaning loudly at the feel of your wet mouth.

“Fucking shit babygirl, felt like the first fucking time” Steve groans, looking down as he thrusts into your throat, a paced motion that only went deeper.

You resist the gag threatening to come out at the intrusion, forcing yourself to breathe though your nose, you grip your thigh tightly as your nose begins to brush against the soft hairs at the base.

Your tongue glides against the ridges and veins of his cock, Steve allows you to wrap a hand around whatever you can’t fit, circling your tou hue around his shaft before gliding your way to his tip, he grips your hair tightly as you flatten your tongue against the head, and as you look up at him you find him already staring intently down at you.

Steve quickly takes control wrapping your hair into a makeshift pony tail before angling his hips do that he drove his entire length down further, hitting the back your throat. Muffled groans and scattered half words, leave his mouth, the beginnings of your name and curses filling the room.

Steve speeds up his pace, do that you had no choice but to hold your breathe as he drove deeper and deeper, it was as if all restraint had left him as he lost himself in pleasure, using your throat as merely a hole to fill his cum with.

Ragged breathes from above are all you can here as tears begin to stream down your face, you gag violently but Steve continued his rough thrusts, growling as he sees the tears staining your cheeks, as he sees what his cock has done to you.

You feel rough fingers reach for your throat, gripping it harshly as they squeeze, leaving you with shallow breathes in between the few seconds in which Steve’s cock is not down your throat.

“Holy shit Steve” Moans Bucky as he looks over at your appearance, mascara trucking down your throat, your hair sticking to your forehead, lips spread wide open, and forehead practically kissing Steve’s abdomen.

The lack of air begins to consume you, but you find it impossibly to let of of his heavy weight against your tongue, a strangled moan vibrates against his cock and it has Steve curse your name loudly, gripping your scalp to the point or breakage.

“You’re just a fucking hole aren’t you baby? Huh? Only thing your good for is taking by dick down that tight fucking throat and letting me use you however I fucking want” Steve growls above you, pushing the fallen strands back into his tight grip as he continued to drive into you.

“Talking so much fucking shit, pulling that little stunt you thought up in that dumb brain of yours. Thought you were so smart with that huh? You’re embarrassing, the only thing you did was waste a perfectly good soldier of ours” Steve continued, tutting as if he were talking about the weather.

“Couldn’t have him think he had a chance right Bucky?” Steve says, wrapping his palms around your face now, hitting the back of your throat with little abandon, the dazed expression turning him on as you choke on him. Steve doesn’t wait for him to reply before he continues.

“Now you know your rightful place, on your fucking knees taking me in your mouth, barely able to breathe with your own fingers shoved into your pussy” Steve remarks growning at your soft rocking against your hand.

You moan loudly against him, unable to keep your noises within, the sound vibrates across Steve’s cock, and he drives you violently down his length, your wet hot mouth causing him to growl loudly.

His thrust become sloppy as he glides against your tongue, and without warning, he shoots down your throat, your nose against his stomach as he forced you to take all of it, his full shooting down your abused throat.

He continues to thrust into you slowly, allowing you to breathe finally, as he eases his thick cock from your mouth, cum and spit dribbling down your mouth and down your neck.

You feel yourself falling onto your back before Steve quickly catches you, collecting you into his arms and he guided you onto the bed. Collecting the cum from your stomach and mouth, licking it clean, Steve looks at you intently, an unreadable expression over taking his features and his furrows his eyebrows.

He reached for you before you flinch quickly, causing Steve to quickly retract his hand.

“Hey, hey, you all there? We good” Steve says concern lacing his tone, as he takes in you heaving chest.

Bucky immediately looks down at you, the same concern mirrored on his features.

“M fine, just overstimulated, s’good Steve” You groan licking your lips, causing Steve and Bucky to clench their jaws unconsciously, the wood splintering under their grip.

“Good, because we’re not stopping anytime soon” Steve replies darkly

“Remember we’ve got all night baby doll, and we were just getting started” Bucky grins. Their cocks already getting hard, pressing against your stomach, and their eyes seemed to remain on the cum oozing from between your closed legs, dark grey’s and blue’s watching you, like wolves to the prey.

And you would have no choice but to surrender.

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cawyden-gaming · 4 months

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Rogue Trader - Act 2 Black Ship - Heinrix romance - spoiler

This is the (unfortunately not voiced) dialog with Heinrix if he is alone with RT on the black ship (Pillars of Viridice system).

Please note that it only seems to be working in act 2 not later.

If you have other team members with you, they will interrupt Heinrix.

There is a fight later however, so I would recommend to leave after the scene and to get the full team.

The dialog option "You do not always have to appear invincible..." is also counting towards Heinrix corruption points (if you want to get him to leave the inquisition later).

#rogue trader #rogue trader rpg #rogue trader crpg #heinrix van calox #rogue trader spoiler #rogue trader heinrix van calox #heinrix van calox romance #heinrix x von valancius #rogue trader act 2 #rogue trader black ship

19 notes · View notes

honeykaes · 7 months

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le sacrifice du sang

vampire!neuvillette x reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, vampire au, set in 17th century esc france, blood, biting, ritual sex, self harm (neuvillette cuts his wrist for the ritual), soulmate, xenophobia, praise, creampies, monsterfucking adjacent, unedited

synopsis: for decades the village has been thriving despite the vampiric armies ravaging throughout europe. Cast aside for being an outsider, you are deemed as a sacrifice to a vampire lord to stop the attacks in the region.

Night seemed endless. Most days you would barely see the sun bright outside under the sky. All you could do was sigh, shifting on the soft sheets of the grandiose bed you rested in. A long chiffon nightgown covered your form and rested right at your ankles. You balled your fists on the ornate patterns of the comforter of the bed, golden and navy threads showing off just how much it was worth.

You turned your head to the stained glass window seeing the sun hiding behind the horizon and stars beginning to peak out in the darkening sky—the multicolor light pigmented in blues and purples reflected on the ground as its shadow grew signaling the fleeting light.

Part of you is surprised you're up so early in your new sleep schedule but another part of you questions why you’re even alive right now to look outside the stained glass window. Three weeks ago you were set to die, yet you have lived in the lap of luxury.

All because of him.

Vampires have been ravaging Europe for a few decades now, causing an all-out war in some regions of the land. Your family insisted on heading there despite it, as traders would surely flourish against the nobles desperate for supplies and your nativity allowed you to follow them.

Trying to settle and trade in Europe began in disaster as xenophobia grew rapid—war, fear, and prejudices clouding their judgment. You lost your family very early on when you arrived in Europe, losing a lot and trying to scour and try to collect wherever you could to mourn and live. France became the best option to live in since the fighting was beginning to cease in the country.

In the southeast part of the region, you settled in a village. You remained there for five years, trying to make ends meet as a seamstress. You always wondered why vampires didn’t attack and slaughter you and the rest of the village as you heard others had faced. The village had not seen an inkling of the dissipating war around it, and you later discovered why.

To appease the vampiric lords and ladies of France, human sacrifices were commenced—one to save all. You weren’t completely sure who the lord of this area even was, yet you were about to find out after the Judge of the town deemed yourself as the sacrifice.

You begged, you pleaded, you cried but no one in the town so much as pitied you. In their eyes, you were an outsider; someone even more worthy of being sacrificed than “one of their own”. Bullshit is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the power to defy it.

That man eventually collected you after, the lord of the southern region of France—Monsieur Neuvillette. When he descended, in navy and black, you thought he was an angel and thought the village already killed you thinking he was an angel instead.

He didn’t seem human at all.

Long white hair cascaded down his back and lowly tied towards the end with streaks of gradient blue flowing through it. His lavender eyes, pupil slit, and irises glowing, drinking up every unconscious tick and stubble expression in your body and face. His face was stern, but his eyes seemed kind.

He asked you one question that night.

“What is your name, dear?”

You answered as his eyes softened, lifting his hand to your eyes to cover your gaze

“Then, (Y/n). I’m sorry circumstances have brought us here.”

Darkness was all you were faced with. In a way, you thought death had arrived, only to wake up in a beautifully decorated room in a château when you awoke.

Neuvillette was kind albeit stoic during your time in his château. Many nights, you’d have dinner with him—his eyes just on you as he quietly drank his silver chalice filled with the iron-rich stench of blood from someone who wasn’t you.

Those nights he would reveal more information about himself and you’d do the same. He told you how he was a lord and has been “in this state” for several millennia. He told you about the rise and fall of empires and even vampiric ones history had all but forgotten.

Neuvillette also discussed how most of the sacrifices ended up working as servants in the château who he called “Melusines”.

In the second week since your “sacrifice”, he also mentioned another vampire lord living in this château—Lady Furina. He talked about how eager she was to interact with her subjects, including yourself but he had told her to stay away from you for now as her bloodlust was unpredictable.

But one slip of the tongue had changed the casual conversation into something more serious.

“...She is not to bother you, yet. Not before you are turned at the least.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, lips parting hearing him say those words. Turning? Turning into what?

“What do you mean by that…” you questioned. He placed his chalice down, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts before crossing his arms.

“I apologize. I have neglected to inform you about this since I wanted you to get adjusted to your new life here first,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to read his stoic expression but it was the same as it’s always been.

“I admit I played a role in why the Judge had chosen you specifically. When you first settled in the village, your scent informed me that you were my mate. My soulmate,” he replied. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in shock.

“Smell me? Soulmate? What does that even mean, Neuvillette?! I thought vampires only were interested in other vampires and humans were seen as food. That’s why there’s a war in the rest of Europe after all,” you shouted. He did not flinch at your raising pitch in tone. He gave a small humorless laugh at your words.

“That’s not exactly true. A curse befalls vampires and those with vampiric natures in more than one way than ‘evolving’ from their human characteristics. The same people many see as food can be the only chance to find their mate. Whether unconsciously or not we are always searching, our body craves the touch and affection only our mates can give us, soothing one might say, the soul,” he revealed.

You look down at your plate, half-eaten cake on it before gently pushing it away. There was a pause where no one said anything, but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly in your chest.

“...Are you scared? Do you need some time to process this? We can save the rest of this conversation later,” Neuvillette discussed. You swallowed, trying to ease the dryness that caught your throat suddenly but refused to look him in his eyes for now.

“H-How would this process work exactly? I’m guessing vampires and mortal humans don't mix well,” you muttered. Neuvillette sighed, grunting in agreement.

“Well. There’s a ritual in a sense to create a bond between each party’s body and soul. The ritual entails copulation and when my fangs pierce your skin in the process. It will signal to both your body and soul that your bond with me has been found and eventually your physiology will adjust into something more like me.”

“...Something that of a vampire,” you whispered, looking up at him. He silently nodded as silence befell the two of you for now. Neuvillette let out a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips curved into a small smile to try to ease the pain you were faced with.

“I recognize this is a lot for any human to face, so please take as much time as you need. There is no rush, so process however long it will take,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving you alone with the crackling fire in the dining room.

It had been a year since that night he revealed himself as your soulmate. A year to finally process and accept your fate. You chuckled to yourself finally seeing the sun’s light completely disappear and the moon rising brightly in the sky.

Tonight you would mourn your mortality.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts and memories before you called out they could enter. Neuvillette walked in, wearing his own nightgown falling to his ankle, body completely covered in the white chiffon fabric. He stood by the door still, letting you have your space that was resting on the bed.

“Are you sure you are ready? We can wait later to do this. I can wait,” Neuvillette murmured. You flashed a shaky smile before sighing.

“Yes. I am Neuvillette. I promise,” you replied. Neuvillette walked over until he was in front of you, long fingers clasping gently as your chin before lifting it up. Your lips parted in shock gazing into his eyes that softened.

“I’m going to ask one more time, are you sure you’re ready,” he asked, voice low and husky. Your body trembled at the tone of his voice before you slowly nodded your head—you could hear your eardrums echoing out the beat of your quickening heart.

You slowly lifted your nightgown off and the fabric pools on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze and touch. He followed, letting his nightgown fall onto the floor. His body was more muscular than you thought based on the attire you usually saw him adorning in the halls. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Neuvillette softly smiles leaning in to press his lips against your own. He soon is on top of you, the bed creaked as the weight of two bodies pressed against it. His lips were soft, easily molding on your own while ever so often a sharp pain would poke at your bottom lip.

“If I’m being honest, I never thought I would experience this. You don’t know how long I waited for this...how I longed for you,” he whispered, as his lips eventually left your own, settling in the nape of your neck. Your body trembled as Neuvillette let his fangs graze against the sensitive skin while his hand traveled down and squeezed the plush of your thighs.

He finally finds your cunt, cupping his hand at it as he continues to nipple and his along your neck. He soon applied pressure and your hips instinctively began to grind trying to get a lick of friction to brush against your needy clit. Feeling you grind on his hand made Neuvillette chuckle before he opened his eyes admiring the slick now clinging to his palm.

“So pliable under my touch, I’m glad you're enjoying yourself,” he whispered in your ear, hearing another moan rip from your mouth. He soon shifted his position; his thumb now firmly pressed against the nub of your clit pressing tight circles on it. Your form began to twist and your hips shifted as Neuvillette’s hand followed every movement, not budging his focused ministrations once.

His other thumb brushed against your pebbled nibbles, relishing in the way your body jolted from the various sensations. Your breathing became heavy, feeling your entire body flutter inching closer and closer to your high.

“Neuvillette. Neuvillette…I’m—” you groaned out before suddenly Neuvillette completely stopped. You snapped your eyes open in surprise, looking over at him perplexed as his gaze softened and lips tugged in a smile.

“Why did you stop…?” you whispered, puzzled by his actions. Neuvillette leaned in to kiss your forehead while cleaning the slick clinging to his fingers on his thighs as it smeared.

“I needed to make sure you were prepared for me. The ritual unfortunately cannot work if you lose yourself to my fingers, mon cœur. Unless you preferred to wait as I asked earlier,” Neuvillette hummed. You bite your lip, in embarrassment as Neuvillette grasped his cock.

It’s thick, and long and the only vein you could see ran along the base of it. His cock curled up and twitched every few seconds, eager for attention. He let out a grunt, pumping his cock a few times as his tip—flushed pale pink—budded with precum. He rested his length against your slit, letting it slide up and down and gathering the arousal drooling out of your cunt. He let his tip tap against your stimulated clit causing you to shiver before he nestled it against your entrance once more.

As he pushed the tip inside of you, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more before sinking his cock further inside of you. Your nails harpoon against his broad back and you widen your legs wider trying to adjust to his length. Your walls burned at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he descended further inside of you.

Finally bottoming out, he slowly slid out before plunging in once more, thrusting with meticulous but strong strokes. Your body moved to his pace, bed beginning to moan and creak while hitting against the wall.

He grunted louder in the kiss, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain himself. He leaned up as you tried catching your breath, stammering his name as his breathing became heavier while his thrusts became faster.

Neuvillette parted his mouth to let his fangs elongate before they buried themselves in the nape of your neck. You yelped, sucking a sharp breath in as the pain of his bite throbbed and shot throughout your entire body. You could hear him gulp and moan, sucking the river of blood pouring down at the wound while he continued to rut inside of you.

“Neuvillette…” you whispered out. It was strange. The pain had somehow subsided and your body felt much lighter and aware of his touch and thrusts, trembling in newly found sensitivity and pleasure. It was as if the bite was an aphrodisiac.

Were all bites like this or was it because he claimed to be your soulmate?

He lifted his head, lower face bloodied from the meal he was indulging in—your humanity. His tongue seemed longer, letting it rest against the wound before taking a long stride up to lap up the rest of the blood dripping from the punctures.

Your walls fluttered down on his cock as your writhed, Neuvillette continued to buck—desperate to sink even further inside of you. He sucked a breath in, struggling to keep up with his pace as your walls continued to cave and clamp down.

Neuvillette's hands find themselves beneath you, squeezing the globes of your ass before lifting your bottom half in an attempt to plunge deeper inside of you. His eyes narrowed watching his cock stretch and disappear in your cunt.

“That’s it…you're almost there. Let me see you come undone. Let’s begin our lives together for eternity in the darkness…” Neuvillette muttered, clenching his jaw tight. You squirmed, tears pricking your eyes as you finally reached your high—body shivering and back arching while calling out his name repeatedly. Your walls quivering from your climax were enough for Neuvillette to follow.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trial of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

“Just one more step…please bear with me and stay away,” Neuvillette whispered, placing your hips down on the bed once more. His nails, sharper than before, quickly shut themselves on his wrist—his blood dripping down his forearm. Your eyes and body felt so heavy, your body feeling like your heart was slowing down before you noticed him hovering his injured wrist above your mouth.

Droplets of blood trickled down your chest and chin before finally landing in your open mouth.

As you swallowed, your eyes widened feeling an unknown rush flowing throughout your body replenishing your once tired body so suddenly.

“It…it doesn’t taste like iron, but as if your blood is the purest spring water…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #kinktober 2023

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dazed-and-confused23 · 9 days

Text

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4

Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️

DHGP Masterlist

Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.

Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.

Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.

First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.

"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.

"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."

You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.

"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."

~~~~~

Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.

Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.

He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.

"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.

"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.

After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.

"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.

"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."

The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.

From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.

At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.

Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.

His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.

"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.

You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.

His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.

Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."

You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."

Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.

"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.

Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.

"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.

"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.

Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.

"I love you."

You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.

"I love you, too."

Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #fallout x reader

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leonw4nter · 2 months

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Lovebirds (of Prey)

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

Here you are, quietly hanging out in the darker corners of an old-money party and waiting for Leon to arrive. Parties were never your scene and though you’d avoid being in one, duty calls and now you find yourself being dragged to one. You weren’t just assigned to be someone lurking in the darkness and carefully waiting for the time, no; you were assigned to be a bellhop and gather people’s coats and valuables before they entered the party proper. Unfortunately for you, you and Leon wouldn’t be able to come in as a couple to read people and the room for the neo Umbrella bioweapon trader you’re assigned to take into custody. You protested to your boss about this arrangement, especially that you and Leon are literally married. Just like you did, he also protested against this but you two had no choice but to accept this arrangement.

“I’m sorry baby. I know this will be slightly awkward for us both but it’s just for a mission right? I promise that this is the first and last time we’ll have something like this,” Leon reassures you as he drives you both home.

“Yeah. Don’t tell this to the kids, they’ll think we’re separating,” you softly respond. With a soft sigh, you unbutton the topmost button and lean against the window as you mindlessly stare at the cars speeding past.

“Yeah,” Leon responds. He puts a large hand on your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze even if he keeps his eyes trained on the road and the other hand on the wheel. “I love you honey. You know that?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

A few hours later, you two send the kids over to your parents’ house before suiting up for the mission: Leon in a sharp suit and you in your bellhop uniform. You fitted all straps and subtle holsters, making sure they were secure and well-concealed in the clothing you guys wore. Leon handed you the earpieces and cuff mics, making sure they were also well-hidden. Since Leon will be entering the party via the main entrance where everyone else is required to enter through, he will enter unarmed but with connections to the expertly placed agents throughout the party he’ll be able to arm himself while looking for the target, a neo Umbrella genetic engineer named Svetlana Noble. You two left separately, sharing a kiss and words of good luck before leaving the door and heading for your destinations.

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A few hours later, you’re lugging around dense fur coats and several car keys as you head to the storeroom of the guests’ belongings. You haven’t seen Svetlana yet and Hunnigan hasn’t given her a signal yet so you safely assumed that she isn’t around yet although you reminded the other agents planted around the scene to stay sharp. A sleek black Aston Martin DB9 Carbon Black pulls up into the driveway, which catches your attention but you don’t pay it much attention. That is, until you heard Leon’s voice.

“My lady,” he says in a low voice, though his words are not meant for you. You turn your head and see another lady, a fellow agent, take his hand and exit from her side of the car. She looks beautiful: her glossy hair that fell until her tailbone straightened, elegant glitter makeup highlighting her features, and a matching black dress with gemstones sewn in. She giggled at Leon’s voice a little too hard, making you seethe and glare at them from a distance. You know that this is all for a mission and the appearance of a woman in love with the man she came in with is necessary to throw off suspicions. Before another bellhop can accommodate them, you step in and put on a well-mastered fake smile.

“Good evening, esteemed guests.” you greet. You meet Leon’s eyes and he almost chokes on his own spit, his ears slightly going red but maintaining a composed appearance despite this.

“Good evening,” he greets you back before handing you the keys to the car. Since the lady didn’t have a coat, there was nothing to carry back to the storage room and as the pair of them left, you couldn’t help but burn holes into that perfect hair of hers. Y/N calm down, this is just a mission and they’re just faking it. They’re just faking it.

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Now that all the guests have arrived, you move from your post at the entrance and towards a darker corner of the party while lugging around cases filled with guns and other weapons to send to the other agents stationed around; some agents had partners like Leon, others went alone. Some were like you, assigned to a hotel staff role. It was hard to keep your eye on the target while Leon and the younger agent were dancing, a well-manicured hand on his shoulder as he sways them. If Leon is truly amazing at putting on a pleased facial expression then he’s doing damn too well of a job at keeping up that facade, the insecurity pushed to the front of your mind and threatening to take full rein of your decision-making yet you fought for control again, knowing that you can’t fuck this mission up. Leon leans in to her and whispers against her ear and suddenly you feel as if steam could start pouring out your ears. Luckily for you, you managed to spot Svetlana and another man taking a seat and have a discussion amongst yourselves. You inform all the agents in the area, giving them the details of the location the target is currently in. Svetlana takes a small metal briefcase out, showcasing several tubes and vials of a strain of the C Virus before promptly closing it and handing the case back to her guards. The guards, now in possession of the case, nod to her before moving somewhere. Given the go signal, you quietly follow them from a safe distance and start moving, a combat knife hidden on the inside of your black uniform. After a few minutes of following them and making sure they’re far from the party, you plunge the knife into one man before kicking on the other, making sure that you go for the kill as swift and noiseless as possible. You manage to do the job, taking the case and opening it up to make sure that you have the real thing and not just a copy.

“Osprey to Roost, I’ve obtained the case. Took two guys down, Noble’s men,” you radio back while getting your shoes back and trying to look as subtle as possible.

“Osprey, get out of there. I’ll request extraction for everyone. Noble’s looking for the guys,” Hunnigan responds. With a nod and a look back, you make your way out of the hotel. Entering an elevator, you expertly block the cameras and swiftly remove the top of your uniform and stay in the gray shirt you were underneath. You didn’t bother changing out of your skirt because that was all you had and without the uniform’s top, it looked just like any other pencil skirt. Swiftly walking to your red Ducati Panigale V2, you put on your black helmet and put the visor down before turning it on and getting the hell out of that place. All was well until a bullet barely even grazed your shoulder, causing you to almost lose balance and crash on the road.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. You switched lanes, making sure to get as far from whoever was shooting you. You swiftly looked back to look for the case that you had; it was still there luckily but you prayed that the vials were still inside and unshattered. It wasn’t like you could take out your own gun and start shooting since you carelessly forgot to take the firearms of the men you took down. When all seemed lost, you saw a familiar black Aston Martin near you with an agent hanging from an open window and shooting at the enemy car shooting at you. Taking advantage of the distraction, you speed away and into the meet up point right behind a port.

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Now that the mission briefing is over and the adrenaline from last night died down, exhaustion and jealousy settled in your body.

“Baby, I know you’re jealous,” Leon softly says as he sits down beside you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You take the cup, taking a cautious sip since it’s still steaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leon laughs, taking your free hand and nuzzling it against his stubbly cheek while he shoots you puppy eyes.

“Saw you loud and clear last night, you were practically shooting lasers out of your eyes,” Leon recalled. “Even when I wasn’t directly looking at you, I could still feel the unfiltered jealousy seeping from your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, gently withdrawing your hand from Leon.

“I was not jealous. Just making sure she didn’t canoodle up to my man.”

“So you were jealous?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure. Whatever you say but I find it endearing. It means you want me the same way I want you,” Leon rasps out.

You finish your small cup of coffee, getting up to throw the paper cup into the bin before sitting back beside him.

“She was looking at you with the goo-goo eyes, it’s my duty as your wife to make sure only I can give you those eyes,” you retorted with a suggestive lilt to your voice.

“I especially love those eyes from you when they’re below me,” he whispers.

“I can make those eyes for you again when we get back home,” you suggest with a wink.

Before you can say another thing, Leon drags you up and with a hand around your wrist he leads you two to an empty janitor’s closet and seals you two inside.

“Why wait until we can get home when we can do it now. Think of this as a teaser for the real thing later,” he breathily mutters as his hands roam every inch of your skin.

"Let me show you just how loyal I can be from down here."

NOTE - I'm finally done with my Valentine's Day series!!! This was really fun to do and I never thought I'd be able to accomplish this but here I am!!!! I know Valentine's Day was like a week ago but I still srsly hope you had a fun time :) I literally ended up rushing this bc I had no ideas at first 😭😭Um something interesting that happened in my day was that my teacher said that the class will get a buzzcut if I get a buzzcut (as a joke ofc) and the fact that me and my friend are forever known as the students obsessed with fictional men bc we screamed when we got Gallagher from HSR leaks on twt (I don't play HSR but my friend does, I just find the characters attractive). I also found out I don't have a gag reflex (milked so much dirty jokes from this fact). Anyways, TYSMM for keeping up with my Valentine's Day fics and I <33333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #rebhfun #death island leon #resident evil death island #resident evil x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 months

Text

We Need A New Lock / Sanji Imagine

Request: could you write a sanji x reader fic of them alone in reader's room? they always end up getting interrupted by someone just as they get close to kissing, and its torture for sanji because they just cant find a moment alone with each other, so he finally finds a way to be with her late one night where he can kiss her senseless uninterrupted. thank you!

First I just wanted to say, thank you so much everyone for your support as I recovered from my operation! I'm so happy to be here and writing again!

Okay but this is both super sweet and hilarious, I hope you don't mind I spread this out over the deck a bit, and changed it around a little bit for more fun ;)

Warning: slightly spicy, so 18+ please!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @islandofohara.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Try One: Nami

At try one, Sanji was four seconds away from ripping his hair out.

Poor, Sanji: the sweet cook had spent all of dinner service with his hands clenched tightly in his fringe, fistfuls of hair nearly tugged out and scattered among the Matcha Tiramisu he had spent a lonely, and tired morning dragging himself away from your warm embrace to make specially for you. Toiling, rolling, dusting cream and cocoa that he had spent the last handful of his berries trading for from the speciality trader in the markets of the Canopi Islands; he had squinted underneath the honey melt of the sun as it fell from its crest over the horizon as he whisked and whizzed and splattered dessert up to his elbows in his desperation to make sure the sweet treat would be ready before Luffy caught the scent of it.

Finding it too tempting not to toy with the cook, you tried to stifle your smirk as you nonchalantly placed a fist under your chin and feigned interest in whatever Nami was animatedly trying to chew over with you. Flitting your irises over until you made direct eye contact, you dragged the flat edge of your tongue up the back of the spoon, making sure to wet the edge of your thumb along the way.

At any other time, Sanji may have been beside himself with embarrassment. It wasn't the first time a member of the crew had teased him... or snarled at him... or chided him for his obvious endearment, but the sound of Nami's voice was drowned out by the pulsing rush of blood that flooded through your boyfriend's ears. His full concentration was centred solely on the way your teeth scraped over your fork: the content hum as you licked over your fingers like a serpent and nearly sent Sanji clambering onto the floor to beg for the ecstasy of your sin.

You had tried not to chortle, you really had: hiding your face behind the ledger Nami was leaning over the table to shove into your face, her accusing pointer finger jabbing at a new entry she had triple underlined in her familiarly baleful black strokes. She hadn't even noticed that Sanji was nearly crumpled on the floor, bowl lying abandoned by the sink as his love-struck eyes struggled to stay within his skull.

'3000 berries?! Seriously?', she shot a growingly outraged frown in your direction, clattering her fork onto the table so she could use her free hand to point accusingly towards a recovering Sanji, whose fingernails were almost shedding wood shards off the cabinet drawer as he tried to pull himself back up to a presentable looking stand. 'You let curly brows over there spend three thousand of our berries on a pair of new pyjamas for you?'

You shrugged hesitantly, crossing your legs under the table. Your skirt began to rise up, bunching towards your hip as you crossed your ankles. You shot a lingering glance out of the corner of your eye towards Sanji, hoping with all your might that he'd be too bashful to meet your eye. Instead, as Nami cried out in outrage, Sanji's gleeful eyes locked onto yours, and the poor man was forced to grab the wooden edge of his spoon out of the sink and bite into it with his teeth to stop himself from squealing right there and then in the kitchen.

Nami incredulously trailed her eyes between the two of you, a long-simmering jaded scowl tempering over her face. Finally noticing how Sanji was loosening his shirt collar and using a freshly washed baking tray to fan the heat rolling in volcanic waves off his body.

The cat burglar pushed her tongue against her cheek and inhaled sharply as she turned her attention back to you. 'How is that even possible?! Luffy's meat budget for the month costs less than that!'

'They're special, my dear Nami!', Sanji finally managed to pipe in, his voice sounding strangled as he plopped the tray back down next to his damp tea towel. He turned towards the two of you with a pained smile plastered on his sickly looking face.

'They're made of Agar-Agar flakes, and of course, only the finest dehydrated avocados in all of the East Blue for the finest gem in all of the seas.' Sanji cocked his head and winked at you mischievously. 'It was worth every berry for my delectable little sweet pea.'

Nami made a gagging noise into her orange juice, but Sanji just bit his bottom lip and came sauntering over to stand by your side.

Sanji's breath drew in sharply as you absentmindedly began to brush your pointer finger up and up: first tickling over the arm that came winding around your shoulder, before leaning back to trace the edge of his jaw line, your eyes drawn away from Nami's waving hands to gawk up at the unbuttoned gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

Nami was about to throw her muffin at your head when she suddenly started, bolting straight upright. Leaning forward on her elbows, she squinted her eyes suspiciously at the way you were nearly falling off the dining table's bench to lean back and caress your boyfriend's face.

'Hold on... what do you mean Agar Agar? How can they be made of food...'

'Well', you snorted, trying to hide your face by pulling one of Sanji's heavy arms up and draping his heavy bicep in front of your crinkling eyes. 'They are edible-'.

'Melt in the mouth, in fact', Sanji chimed in audaciously, bending his spine over so he could press a few butterfly kisses over the top of your scalp.

Nami nearly shoved the table straight into your stomach in her desperation to clamber up and escape the two of you. 'Nope. Nope! Absolutely not. The two of you get out of here now, before I start pitching water over your heads.'

Try Two: Usopp

At try two, Sanji was three seconds away from kicking the door of its hinges in annoyance.

It had taken nearly all night for the two of you to get even these few seconds of isolation together, and yet Sanji still felt so woefully unprepared. His fingers stumbled as he clumsily tried his best to ignore how his pounding heart was almost playing leap-frog with his ribs; the tautening of his abdomen as he tried to pull his under-shirt over his head left exultant lacerations against his muscles. He had to work up the courage to turn and kiss you now, or he was going to keel over and pass out on the floor from his heart's anguish: brought to his knees by the one thing he could never escape: his soul’s serendipity.

Thankfully, you did the hard part for him.

He flushed at the sound of your feet pattering off your bed to echo through the shimmering walls towards him; he throat bobbed at the feel of your hand delicately winding round to finger at the Windsor knot choking his neck. He nearly cried out when you pressed your body flush against his back.

'My buttercup, if you keep pulling at that tie like that you'll have conked out before I've even got you to the bed.'

You could feel the desperation radiate off Sanji as he tilted his head back to try and watch you. Despite how tired he seemed, his dipping eyelashes roved almost hungrily over every aspect of you he could see, his hand coming up to slide over yours until you were bowered and anchored together in the storm.

'Well my honeyed heart', he almost made your breath hitch as he walked the two of you backwards, stopping only once the heavy weight of your bed swung against your knee pit. 'I suppose I'll just have to bring the bed to us.'

With a grunt that sounded suspiciously close to a puppy's whine, Sanji snapped you up within his arms and lifts you up to sit on the chained platform. Once you had regained your balance, you beckoned your pointer finger towards Sanji, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he came stumbling towards you, dragged forwards as if yanked by an invisible leash tied around his ankles.

'God, I missed you today', your boyfriend muttered, grabbing onto your shirt and nearly crawling into your skin like a man possessed. As your head hit the linen lining of the swing, the man did his best not to collapse his full weight onto you when he came crushing down on top of your abdomen: the only thing holding him up being the point of his elbows that pin your arms in place, and the jut of his knees as they 'accidentally' fall between yours and slide them further... and further open. 'If Luffy has me make cook up one more medium-rare steak for him I'm going to throw myself headfirst into the ocean.'

You snorted, burrowing your nose into the soft mound of flesh underneath his earlobe. He shivered when you teasingly pursed your lips and blew against the shell, before latching on with your teeth and nipping at the squishy skin. 'If you do, don't worry. I'll make sure to fish you out with a frog net.'

'Frog net? Frog net!' Sanji slowly lowered his body to rest his forehead against the curve of skin just above your breasts, trying to stifle his smile. 'Oh, my wounded heart! I hope you're only saying that because you're going to give me a kiss.'

'Actually, it's because you're so slimy', you teased, poking your finger into his hip. His groan echoed into your bone as he pulled your waist tighter against him.

The starved man exhaled, his arms tightening around your waist; he was hiding himself away in your safety, trying to burrow himself underneath your skin like an ensnared goldcrest flying fruitlessly, dangerously, with harrowing hope for the propitious freedom wrought only by the sun.

Sanji made an incomprehensible gargle that sounded something vaguely along the lines of: 'Eye wansh kisch ewe so mphly.'

'What was that, buttercup?'

'I want to kiss you so badly', Sanji whimpered, his warm tears soaking through to your shoulders.

He was so soft. God always so soft, and as he lay before you now, you could almost imagine how sweet he must have been before his father cruelly tried to stifle it with cruel mockery and torturous punishments. So soft, so calm, so comforting, as he peered up at you with those wonderous eyes; his attention was always drawn back to you: so trusting, no matter what you said or did. Always. Just looking at you with this almost timeless intensity. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, to want to spend his whole life caught in the light of the most translunary being he’s ever met.

You stroked your palm through the tangling strands of hair by the nape of his neck, letting your voice fall to a whisper in order not to startle Sanji any further. 'Well, you are my sweet prince after all. You can kiss me whenever you want.'

The cook's reply was muffled by a swift knock against the doorframe.

'Hey, is everything okay? I'm hearing some weird noises coming from in here... are you guys in trouble? I know those Marines on Karushi Island were pretty annoyed when Y/n tossed them backwards over their butts-'

His perturbed question was met only by a deafening groan, followed by the pillow Sanji picked up and flung hitting the porthole window with a crashing PLASH.

Usopp flinched back, instinctively reaching towards his belt to run his fingers over the solid oak of his slingshot. 'Okay, be brave. Be brave, Captain Usopp. Your friends may be in danger! They may-'. Usopp's words quickly died on his tongue when he cautiously tip-toed open the door to the boy's quarters. In fact, his tongue nearly rolled out of his jaw as his lips slackened, blubbering like a pufferfish at the sight of Sanji almost draped across you. A half-naked Sanji.

He clapped his hands over his eyes, and nearly tossed himself over the edge of the ship with how rapidly his legs were wheeling themselves backwards. 'I'm so sorry you guys! I didn't know you were- well you were, you know- boinking in ther-.'

SLAM.

The swift silence that settled over the room should have been reassuring. Should have been. If only it hadn't been followed by the confused wails from the sharpshooter as he lolled out flat against the floor: the tip of his bandana scraping underneath the toe of Sanji's shoe where it was splayed out over the edge of the bed.

Sanji just sighed like a weary father, taking one hand off your cheek to slap it over his eyes with a curt shake.

'You snuggle up here and stay warm, sweetheart. I'll go get Chopper.'

Try Three: Luffy

At try three, Sanji was busy spending his spare two seconds trying to work up the nerve to just... leap across the room to where you were standing and kiss you silly.

'Okay', Sanji folded himself against the door and started counting distractedly on his fingers. 'I've given the Captain three plates of meat, so that should distract him for a little while: I've also hidden cookies along the deck, and stuffed a few mint infused lamb shanks in the Crow's Nest. Hopefully he'll go and bother moss head for a bit instead of annoying-'

A ringing crash made the two of you wince as your poor bedroom door got another battering; this time, the handle nearly cleft a hole clean in the wall as Luffy's leg came barging sandal first into the room.

He couldn't sleep... so your Captain had the fortuitous idea of seeking out the next best thing: hugs from you.

'Y/n, there you are! I ran out of meat, I need you to rub my tummy so I can nap! I tried asking Zoro, but he kicked me off the Crow's Nest!'

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, Luffy's stretchy arms have latched onto the edges of the door and he's flung himself into the room like a Hawaiian clad cannonball. Sadly, one that had been directly configured to launch into you: headfirst, nonetheless.

'Damn it Luffy - nO!'

A look of pure terror widened your eyes as you were skidded butt-first across the floor by a mop of curly black hair and a Cheshire grinning face. A crushing weight piled onto the side of your face, and despite how much Sanji curses and tries to detach Luffy's arm from your waist, your Captain's smushed face doesn't even lift an inch off your cheek.

'Oh, Sanji! You're here too! Even better!'

Then koala mode is activated, and Luffy's legs and arms come wrapping around you... and poor Sanji's like a cocoon. The helpless cook goes flying through the air like a contorted puppet blasted out of a wonky cannon.

Oblivious as always, your Captain settled down between the two of you for his pre-sleep nap, effectively trapping pining you and a love-struck Sanji a foot away from each other. Within a blink of an eye Luffy's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you frowned as you tried to shuffle away from the thin lines of drool that dripped out of his snoring mouth. As if he could sense you moving, Luffy's arms tightened like a vice around your waist, winding another few extra times around for good measure.

After a few minutes of wriggling, some muted swearing, and a lot of shoving the toe of his boot into the side of an unaware Luffy's shin, Sanji finally managed to wrangle his hand to snake around the rubber man's bellybutton so he could link his pinkie finger with yours.

Trying your best not to to block your nostril, you shuffled your cheek to the side until you could meet your boyfriend's sorrowful eye.

Despite your circumstance, all you did was smile.

God- that smile: bright enough to alight the dusk. As piercing and ruinous as pure golden sunlight. As devastating as the fresh warmth of a salt wind borne onto the stifling heat of a forgotten crag. And it makes everything in his life up to this moment worth something. Worth it all.

All the tortures in the world would be worth it to just link pinkies with you.

Try Four: Zoro

At try four, Sanji was one second away from hoisting his crewmates over his shoulder and flinging them overboard one by one.

There was something incredibly unsexy about banging your head against a pair of Zoro's sweaty hand weights, but as Sanji pounded you to the ground, neither of you seemed to be able to muster the nerve to care.

'Sanji', you moaned almost lewdly, tugging his back and silently willing him down to cage your body against the coarse, sweaty mat. 'More. Please. More.'

His cheeks burned an almost violent carmine, but he refused to break contact; only for one sole second did his skin leave yours, when he couldn't contain the gut-wrenching want within himself anymore and dared to brush the plush top of his lip against the side of your nose.

'I- I want-'

You pressed your cheeks firmly against his, willing Sanji to believe every sweet word that you couldn't stop from gushing out of your mouth.

You stopped, panting for breath. 'Tell me sweetie - tell me what you want. Let me hear you say it.'

His body squeezed around yours, the so usually syrupy sweet cook clenching his fingers into the meat of your spine like a savage animal shaken loose from its wrought iron chains: like an unbottled tempest with nowhere left to rage except over the bearing flames.

'Please! Please - hngg, I can't, I can't. I need you. I can't hold myself back any longer.' His words sounded so painful it sent a jolt of worry through your heart.

And yet when he pressed his nose flatly against your own, so forcefully crushing his own skin against your own it nearly left you gasping for breath, there was still such a sweetness in it. Despite it all, despite how strenuously Sanji was trying to hold back that final band of constraint from snapping, his first and foremost priority would always be your wellbeing.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry my chérie, but I need to feel you more than I need air.'

The gasping, open mouth kiss he gave you was only repeated: crashing down again and again against your own, tongue slashing with ravenous hunger over your bottom lip and clumsily leaving wet stripes of warm saliva against your cheek as Sanji devoured you. The meek, almost pitiful whimpers as he ducked his head into the curve of your shoulder blade as he grinded himself against you, effectively trapping you between the ground and the clench of his quivering thighs marked the interludes of his feast. His lips trembled as he sighed blissfully, holding the tide back as his free hand sweetly ran its knuckles up the side of your leg, stopping only when his thumb was pressed closely enough to your inseam that he could run miniature circles underneath the growing wetness of your pants.

At the sound of your shaking moan, his front teeth dug in so tightly to his bottom lip that he drew blood.

It scared you. You wanted him to do it again.

'Sanji, I said more.'

The claw of his hand as he swiped at your shirt, not caring that he almost sent a tower of Zoro's sweaty old shirts flying in his own desperation to tug yours off was his only reply. The almost achingly gentle restrain as he placed his right hand against your hip and tried to hold you in place: tried to warn you that if he started, he wasn't sure if all his pent-up yearning would allow him to stop. The sweat nearly dripped across his furrowed eyes, caking the wispy strands of his fringe against his bucking forehead as he willed himself to calm down. His eyes stung, but despite your desperate clawing up towards his shoulders, he forced his breathing to settle.

But by all the seas... as he peeked one eyelid open and saw the line of tantalising skin grow wider down your rising breast, all semblance of self-restraint fled from the near drooling cook's brain.

The feel of Sanji's lips dragging down your neck to nip at your pulse point was interrupted by the sound of a quiet c-r-a-c-k.

You peeked your head, too far gone to swim fully out of your daze. With your arms still wrapped firmly around the wide expanse of Sanji's contracting back, you jutted your chin into the constellation line of freckles by his left shoulder blade. 'Did you hear something?'

'Just the sound of this', he smiled, smoothing his hand off your hip and sliding it underneath your buttocks. He gave you a firm squeeze that left your mouth dropping open in a shocked pant as he lifted you further up against his abdomen and pressed your breasts firmly against his pecs: he was effectively cupping you up against him like a clingy, very drenched, koala bear.

This time though, the sound of something splintering was far too egregious to ignore.

The force of the door handle slamming into the wall of the Crow's Nest nearly made the whole ship shake in revulsion; the cool air against your skin was nearly too much to bear, but the raging heat that sparked out from the looming shadow enveloping the door was enough to make your whole body break out in goose bumps.

'Can you two stop making out around the ship for two seconds.'

Sanji growled, whipping his head round to sulk at the ship's swordsman.

'Can you mind your own business for even one, Marimo?'

The former bounty hunter ostentatiously held a finger up by slowly raising it into air, and it took you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing Sanji his middle finger.

'Zoro, did you- did you just break the lock?'

'What's your problem? I left my gym towel in here.'

#one piece #one piece imagine #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla #opla imagine #zoro #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #luffy #nami #usopp

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dez78 · 27 days

Text

I need you, darling

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Blood (18+)

Additional Tags: Astarion being angry with you, Scared Astarion, Romanced Astarion, Boi is worried sick about you.

Summary: A battle goes to shit and Astarion is the first to notice.

(Not my gif)

As you were trekking the wilds with your companions, you stopped because something lurked ahead.

"Be careful, soldier." Karlach warned you. Your eyes were careful, tracing every shape in front you.

"Astarion, you smell anything?" Gale joked with a smirk, Astarion scoffed at him, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm not some type of blood hound!" He said offensively as he turned his nose up. Gale smirked as he waited patiently.

"The blood is average, so it's probably humans. Likely bandits or traders." Astarion replied after a silence.

You treaded carefully, watching the trees with your peripheral vision. Your companions at your back, watching every direction, weapons drawn.

Just then you heard the buzz of an arrow as it whizzed past your head, clipping your hair.

"Archers!" Gale cried, you and your companions took cover then.

"Bandits." Astarion scoffed.

You used your tactics to take out the archer, using your own crossbow. You pierced his throat with a bolt.

"Nice shot, soldier!" You heard Karlach complimenting you. You smirked cocky as you bolted out, a bandit surprised you and took a slash at you.

Your quick reflexes responded, you snapped your hips, the blade missing your most vital organs or so you thought. You were quick to cut his throat. He bled out, falling to the ground, grasping his throat.

Your companions charged out then, Astarion used his dual daggers to slice through the enemy, Karlach used her axe to crush her enemies, and Gale stood back blasting fire.

You used a dagger for the last bandit, throwing with precision and ending his life by getting him in the eye. You smiled victoriously.

Then you winced suddenly, you looked up just as Astarion turned around. The wind had shifted, and he picked up a sweet scent. Karlach and Gale approached.

You stumbled as you looked back down, despite being covered in bandit blood and the men on the ground, bleeding on the forest floor. Astarion knew your scent.

You looked down, your tunic starting to soak as fresh blood gushed from an open wound. You thought the blade missed, but it was apparent that in fact did not.

"Y/N!" Astarion rushed over to you.

"Oh shit, you're bleeding, soldier." Karlach noticed a few moments after Astarion.

"We need to get to camp." Gale suggested.

"I'm fine." You muttered, Astarion wasn't having it.

"You've done one dumb thing today already." He snarled as he picked you up. He carried you back to the camp. Gale and Karlach hot on his heels.

You faded in and out of consciousness, all you saw was Astarion. His face was washed with panic, dread, and concern.

"~Stay with me, my love.~" His voice sounded so far, yet he was right above you. Before it went black you heard the fear in Astarion's voice as he spoke,

"~Don't leave me. I need you, darling.~"

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

When you came to, you were at camp.

"She's awake!" Gale cried; the companions rushed over to you. Astarion hadn't left your side.

"What happened?" You asked groggily as you sat up, rubbing your throbbing head.

"You stupid, girl!" Astarion suddenly snapped at you, your heart twinged as you looked up with sorrowful eyes.

"You could have died, you idiot!" He was livid as he fumed. You winced from his raised voice, looking like a kicked puppy.

Astarion relaxed and took a deep breath,

"I'm sorry. I was just worried sick about you, I-" He pursed his lips, you looked at him, still hurt.

"I thought I lost you." He breathed out in a shallow breath. He bowed his head, on the verge of tears.

"Everything we been through, and I thought that was the last of you. As soon as I smelled your blood, I was full of dread, fearing the worst." Astarion explained. He took your hands in his.

"That was a stupid thing to do, but you're not stupid or an idiot. I just couldn't imagine the pain if I had lost you. I-" Astarion explained, he stopped again.

"I care about."

"I love you."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, he had never said those words before without it being some kind of joke. You looked into his eyes and saw the concern and sincerity. He meant it. He loves you.

"Please, for the love of the gods. Please, be more careful next time. I don't think my fragile heart can take that kind of pain again." Astarion pleaded with you, his eyes were genuine, and his voice was shaky. You nodded your head slowly as a smile crossed your lips.

"That's a good girl, darling." Astarion said softly as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate tav #astarion #astarion romance #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #y/n #astarion x y/n #angst #love confessions

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bitchyycapricorn · 1 year

Text

Library Scandals

Remus Lupin x Established Relationship Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count:5k+

Synopsis: Remus and Y/N are in a secret yet very committed relationship. Pent up jealousy and sexual frustration leads them to the library part curfew.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Oral (M and F receiving), throat fucking, PIV penetration, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names, jealousy, mentions of toxic family, “getting caught”, language.

AN: Briefly edited

Remus peers at the marauders map in front of him tracing your every move as you make your way through the castle. His eyes linger over your footsteps and your name which read “Y/N Grey.” His heart skips a beat the deeper you move through the grounds, watching as you swiftly avoid Filch and any other teachers that happen to be on night watch.

It was getting rather late of course and Remus knew those teachers would be retiring to their beds quite soon. Which is why he was rather surprised to see you on the move so early. He watches as your footsteps pause for a moment outside the library before entering the facility.

Remus smirks to himself knowing exactly what you were doing. You were once again off to the restricted section to continue to read about wandless magic and transformations. Remus never liked to leave you alone on these scandalous adventures, which is why he finds himself quickly muttering “mischief managed” as he slips out of his own dormitory.

Remus, unlike you, is smart enough to wait for all professors to go to bed before heading to the library to join you. The moonlight lighting up his path so he didn’t need to use his wand. His journey is quick and he soon finds himself in front of the large doors to the library that you both so desperately love.

Remus quietly creaks the door open, quickly slipping inside and shutting it behind him. He scrambles hurriedly over to the restricted section where he finds you hunched over a book, nothing but a lantern and the moonlight to light the area around you.

“I suspected you’d be on your way,” your soft voice breaks the silence as a smirk plays upon your lips. Remus lets out a soft laugh as he admires the way the soft yellow glow of the candle lights up your face in the dark room.

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun now could I?” Remus replies coyly. A smirk playing on his lips as well. He stands there a moment more to admire you before making his way toward your hunched figure. He places a soft kiss atop your head relishing in this moment alone with you. He knows you aren’t supposed to be together, and you know it as well. It just seems to somehow, and for some reason, worry you less that the two of you are dating.

You come from a strong pure blood line of Grey’s, and your family holds quite high expectations of you. Especially when it comes to your marital status. Your parents usher you to keep your eyes open for a good pure blood boy whose family comes from good money like yours. As a first year, you were quick to make this promise. You hadn’t thought much of such things. But as a 7th year, things have definitely changed.

You’ve fancied Remus Lupin since second year and the two of you had secretly made things official fourth year. The fact either of you have been able to keep it hush hush for this long is beyond Remus, but not you.

You know exactly why things have kept so quiet. Part of it has to do with the constant lies that you feed your family about how you are “changing” Sirius Black from a blood trader to a restored pure blood lover. You made a promise to your mother and father that you fancy him and by the end of 7th year you’d have a proposal.

Now, you had planned to end this facade ages ago, but Remus convinced you this was the only way your parents wouldn’t disown you. You know that a family bond is important to Remus, given his own family troubles, so you agreed to continue the lies. The issue is how absolutely and utterly jealous Remus is becoming. Even now sitting in the library you can tell he is on edge about something again.

“Sirius was hitting on you again,” Remus huffs taking a seat on the table you’re working at.

“Oh?” You question innocently, as if you hadn’t noticed.

Remus lets out a small groan of annoyance as he begins to pick at his nails. “Darling, he was fawning over you at lunch,” Remus whines. His brown eyes are big and pleading. Asking, no begging, for you to stop Sirius’s antics.

“Well my dear,” you chuckle lightly, “perhaps if you finally told the boys we were together Sirius would stop.”

Remus stares at you silently for a moment before finally speaking up. “Y/N, you know how mouthy the boys are… it will get out and to your parents and…”

“Rem,” you softly cut in. “I think you forget this is our last year. It’s going to come out eventually. Why does it matter if it’s now rather than then?” You try to keep your voice as soft and soothing as possible, you know Remus is an anxious person and this conversation in particular always upsets him. It really did surprise you how insistent he was that you keep your relationship under complete wraps until after graduation. Many would suspect cheating, but you know the other reality of why he requests this. Remus fears the way your fellow housemates will treat you.

Remus has already witnessed the relentless attacks on Sirius for being a blood traitor despite not even being placed in Slytherin. He couldn’t bare to imagine the way you would be treated for being a blood traitor being that Slytherin is your house.

Though it didn’t particularly worry or bother you, you refuse to put any more stress on your darling boyfriend. So you allow for things to stay quiet. Between family ties and bullying, you know this was what ultimately makes Remus happy. Even if his whining about Sirius Black drives you crazy.

“No no,” Remus huffs back finally, making you tear your gaze from your book. “Your parents might cut you off financially, or…”

“Remmy, we don’t have to if it worries you okay? Perhaps instead you could simply mention to Sirius that you fancy me? He’ll stop then you know.” You try to offer a kind smile but you know deep down it isn’t doing much.

Remus draws his lip between his teeth before shaking his head. His fluffy brown curls bouncing with the motion as he mutters “no,” a few times under his breath. “Sirius might not care, he might take it as a competition to get you first,” Remus points out as if it were obvious.

“Get me first?” You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at his assertion. “Rem, last time I checked, now I could be wrong, but you actually got me first due to the fact we’re dating.”

“But-Okay yes but if I tell him I fancy you then later he finds out we’re together, he might be mad at me!” Remus pleads. You roll your eyes finally turning your chair to face him completely.

“Remus Lupin,” your voice was a little more stern than intended, but you sure as hell knew he was listening now. “I’m almost positive Sirius Black is currently, as in as if this year, on his way to shagging a good portion of our year. Having said that, I highly, and when I say highly I mean highly doubt that he will care that you are shagging me.” You finish with a small sigh. Your eyes lock with Remus’s and you could see a smile beginning to form on his face. “What?” You question with a small laugh.

“Did you just accuse our best friend of shagging the whole year?” Remus chuckles.

“No!” You squeal in defense. “I said on his way to a good portion of our grade!”

Remus lets out another laugh before attempting to get serious again. “Well, you also said that I’m shagging your which is completely and utterly incorrect,” Remus mumbles lowly.

“Really Lupin? That’s what you got out of that? That Sirius is shagging girls and you’re still a virgin?” You let out an exasperated sigh at how absolutely impossible this boy is.

“Hey! You’re a virgin too!” Remus gasps, pointing at you defensively.

“Remus!” You cry with a small laugh. “Still not the point! My point is that he won’t care! If you want our friend to stop “hitting” on me, you’ve ought to say something.”

Remus locks eyes with you again before letting out a small groan. “I get the point, but now all I can think about is how I’m still a bloody virgin!”

Your eyes immediately flew shut as you burst out laughing at his comment. “Remus!” You wheeze while gripping your stomach. “We’re still virgins because my housemates would have a heart attack if you stepped foot into my dorm and your roommates don’t have a reason to leave, then stay gone long enough for us to do anything. Perhaps if you…”

“Well maybe we’ll just have to do it right here then.” Remus states matter-of-factly. Your eyes widened at his offer as you shake your head slowly.

“We can’t just get naked in the restricted section,” you say slowly.

“Says who?” Remus hums, glancing down at you. You look up again at his figure sitting on the desk before deciding to stand up. You shuffle your way between his legs and plant a soft kiss to his lips.

“Says me, I say we can’t get na-“ and suddenly your voice was muffled by your pajama top being taken off your body.

“What was that about you not getting naked? I’m pretty sure you’re the one with your top off,” Remus teases as he admires your completely bare chest. You let out a huff, unable to form any words as you quickly wrap your arms around yourself as cold air surrounds you.

“Remus it’s cold,” you whin eyeing your shirt.

“Well if you move your arms I can use my hands to warm your tits,” Remus snickers earning him a light flick in the arm.

“If you’re going to be an ass and offer to warm me up you might as well warm me up in the right way,” you growl in response. Remus raises an eyebrow at you, leaning back onto the books behind him.

“Oh?” He questioned, intrigued by your sudden dominance in the situation.

“Mhm. If you want to warm me up, use your whole body Remus Lupin. Go on. Fuck me.” You tempt. The smirk that once sat proudly on Remus’s face fell as he swallows thickly. It was only then that he realizes you were standing in front of him, hands on each side of his thighs, with you tits on full display. It was then that he realizes he’s never seen you naked before.

“Scared?” You whisper.

“Terrified.” Remus swallows.

You step back and slowly slip off your pajama shorts followed by your panties. Remus watches your movements with hawk like precision, his eyes never once leaving your body. He was so focused on how gorgeous your body looked he didn’t even realize you had been standing there waiting for him to say something for almost two minutes.

“Oh my,” Remus breaths. “You look, you look absolutely stunning. You truly are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” His eyes graze over your face, then your neck, and down your chest and stomach. He admires your hips and thighs, before slowly skimming down your bare legs. Remus felt like he was on fire. His whole body burns for you, in fact his pajama pants felt quite tight for you.

“Your turn to strip for me lover boy,” you hum, pulling Remus out of his trance. He nods quickly, sliding off the table to discard his shirt and pants, along with any other garments. His eyes meet yours once again, he looks so nervous.

Remus is in fact nervous, though the nervousness is overpowered by excitement. His body shivers as the cold air envelops his toned body. The moonlight shines on Remus pale skin perfectly, allowing you to see every scar left behind by the full moon. The atmosphere of the room was becoming tense due to you both standing there silent and naked.

“Y/N,” Remus whispers, slowly moving towards you. “May I….” His hand reaches forward but he stops himself just before he can make contact with the soft skin of your waist. May I touch you?” His voice is soft and unsure, like a small child who doesn’t know if they’re about to get in trouble.

But you smile at him, allowing Remus to relax under your loving gaze. “Of course you can touch me Remus, I love when you touch me.” You whisper in a hushed tone. Now you begin to move forward, stepping into his touch.

Remus makes quick work of his hands, running them down your waist and then to your hips before sliding them to you back side so he can gently grip your ass. You let out as soft moan as his lips connect with yours, drinking up the feeling of his body pressing against you. “Rem…” you mumble softly, “Can I please you?”

Your words seem to take Remus by surprise, since he pauses the kiss you were both sharing. His lips detach from yours so he can meet your gaze once again. “I-I would really like that, but only if you’re comfortable!” He quickly adds.

“Remus Lupin,” you sigh, “I’d do anything for you I swear,” your voice is like honey as you drag your hands down his body while dropping to your knees in front of him. You watch as Remus’s cock twitches, tempting you to put it in your mouth.

You decide to take it slow, first grabbing onto the base of his cock and jerking it forward. Remus let out a soft whine at your action, bucking his hips forward. His eyes begging for you to continue. You slowly begin to move your hand back and forth at a steady pace, enjoying the soft sounds that we’re tumbling from Remus’s lips.

After a few more jerks you found yourself leaning in with your mouth open, ready to take his cock.

You could hear his breath hitch as your lips made contact with his tip, sucking lightly on the sensitive head. You swirl your tongue around his tip, making sure to spread around the precum that was leaking from his aching cock.

You slowly lower you head fully onto his base while Remus’s hands fly to your hair, tugging lightly as you choke on his length. Remus was thick in your mouth, making it easy to feel every vein and curve as your head bobs up and down.

Remus feels hot from the pleasure, relishing in the much better feeling of your mouth rather than his hand. He loves the way you look while you suck him off. The way tears are forming in your eyes as you gag around his length. Your head continues to move up and down at a steady pace as you hallow your cheeks. Remus instinctively bucks his hips at the feeling, fucking into your throat.

A small moan escapes your lips at the sensation, wanting Remus to do it again. You pull away for a moment, “do that again Rem, I like the feeling of you fucking my throat,” you hum as your lips wrap around his cock once again.

Remus lets out a long moan, bucking his hips forward, wanting to fill your request. He begins to collect your hair in his hands, which allowed him to hold your head in place as he slowly picks up his thrusts.

You could tell Remus was becoming close by the way his abs flex each time he went deeper down your throat. Along with the way he was pushing you all the way down on his cock and holding you there a moment before thrusting back out again. This pattern continues a few more times before Remus let out a ragged gasp while pushing your head all the way down on his cock. You could feel the heat of his cum shoot down your throat as Remus releases you from his tight grip.

“Fuck, you did so well bunny.” Remus huffs, completely out of breath. He cups your cheek before sliding his hand under your chin to tilt your head upwards. You smile up at him while he smiles back at you. “Come on pretty girl, stand up for me. I want to bury my face in that beautiful cunt of yours to show you just how much I love you.”

A soft moan escapes your lips as you pick yourself up off the ground, leaning into Remus’s embrace to give him a small kiss.

“Come on bunny, up on the table for me,” he says pulling you over to where he was previously sitting. He helps you up onto the desk before dropping to his knees in front of your glistening folds. Spreading your legs, Remus brings your thighs over his shoulders so they can rest there, leaving you to lean back on the books behind you. You let out a moan as you tug at Remus’s soft locks, wanting him to bury his face between your thighs.

“What do you want bunny? Hmm? Use your words for me now,” Remus says with a chuckle.

You let out a small whine before replying with a soft whimper “P-please Remus, I want you to touch me.”

“See that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Remus hums with a smirk. His head slowly dipping between your slick coated thighs. His lips began pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs as he travels upwards to your soaking cunt. With a small kiss to your folds, Remus slips his tongue in and gently licks your clit. Slowly lapping up all of your juices in the process.

“Mm bunny, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Remus coos between licks. Your legs begin to tremble as Remus presses his face deeper into your heat so he can press his lips against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Oh Merlin Remus, please don’t stop,” you cry as Remus continues to devour you. His tongue flicking your clit at a constant pace as your hips slowly move upwards to meet his mouth. Your hips begin to grind into him, wanting to feel as much friction as possible as Remus softly takes your clit between his lips. You could feel your high coming on, causing your body to convulse under his soft touch. “Oh fuck Remus, please just like that, I’m going to cum,” you plead causing Remus to smirk against you. He maintains his movement as your body begins to convulse above him, your thighs squeezing together as your orgasm spreads throughout your shaking body.

Remus doesn’t stop until you’re whining that it’s too much. His lips only then pulling away from your sensitive cunt.

“You did so good for me bunny,” Remus praises as he kisses you softly. You can taste your cum on his lips making you squirm underneath him at the arousing memory that happened just moments ago.

His hot fingers make their way down your body and to your heat which is dripping from a mix of your orgasm and arousal for Remus. His fingers delicately trace patterns over your sensitive throbbing cunt before he slowly slips a finger into your entrance. You shiver at the sensation, quickly pressing your lips to Remus’s to hide your moan. Remus returns the kiss feverishly as his fingers pump in and out of you. You can feel as his fingers stretch you out, preparing you for his cock.

You let out a few more whimpers before whispering “Remmy please fuck me,” against his swollen lips. Remus pulls your body to the edge of the table, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while one hand rests around your waist. His other hand rests on your thigh. You can feel the wetness from Remus fingers smear across your thigh as his thumb traces a circular motion into your soft skin. Shuffling forward slightly, Remus enters you with ease, allowing himself to fully press into you. You throw your head back as a strangled moan erupts from your throat at the new sensation. Remus groans and curses as he begins to thrust his hips into yours. Embracing the feeling of your cunt as it squeezes his cock. Remus tries his best to keep a steady rhythm and pace going, but the sensation is overwhelming as he slides in and out of you. His hips snapping into yours repeatedly.

He was overtaken by the smell of your perfume that lingered from earlier that day, along with the smell of your hair wash. Remus could already feel himself getting close for the second time that night, enjoying the sensation of being so close to you. He loves the way you feel, not just the way you squeeze around him but the way you feel in his arms. He loves the way your lips feel on his, the way you sound when you moan for him. Remus knew for a fact he would never want anyone else, he knew this before tonight, but tonight… tonight was worth every rough patch and every moment of hiding your relationship from others. Tonight was everything Remus needed to know that you are his and his alone.

You too felt this deep connection of never wanting Remus to let go of you. If it were possible you’d have him stay like this with you forever- fucking you dumb on the desk of the restricted section. His thrusts were soft yet ruthless, as he pounds into you over and over. You could hear the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the sound of him slipping in and out of your wet cunt. Over and over again Remus fucks into you, relentlessly. You could feel your body begin to shake as you press your chest into Remus’s. Loving the feeling of his body heat radiating off onto you.

“I’m so close Rem, you’re going to make me cum again…oh oh, ugh you feel so good,” you cry, allowing tears to slip down your cheeks as a string of moan flows from your chest.

“Cum for me bunny, cum on my cock,” Remus urges, kissing your lips gently a few times. His lips linger on yours for a moment as the feeling in your stomach finally burst causing a wave of pleasure to overtake your mind and body. You cry out Remus’s name into the kiss, trembling as he helps you ride out your high.

Even in your hazy state you could feel Remus’s cock begin to twitch inside you, signaling that he was close. His moans echoing through the library as his hips jut into you even deeper. Drawing in and out with bruising force. Remus could feel himself getting closer as he desperately chases his high. Craving to release deep inside of you.

His hips moved in a new rhythm, thrusting a few times before hitting deep within you and holding there for a moment before repeating his ruthless motion. You squirm under his touch as his grip tightens on your back.

“Oh fuck,” Remus huffs out, “You feel so good bunny,” Remus continues to praise you. “I’m so close pretty girl.”

A small whimper escapes your lips at the pet names, loving the way Remus continues to praise you as he begins to reach his high.

Within minutes Remus could feel himself beginning to release as his hips snap deep into yours, holding still to fill your cunt up as much as he could. The feeling of pleasure and relief was so overwhelming Remus practically collapses onto you as he comes down from his high. You wrap your arms around his sweaty body wanting to feel him as close as possible.

A small sigh escapes your lips as you breathe in Remus’s scent. “I love you Remus,” you whisper in his ear softly while he moans in response.

“I love you more,” he whispers back after a moment of comfortable silence. You smile to yourself as you pull Remus even closer to your naked body, not allowing him to pull out of you quite yet.

It wasn’t until after another beat of silence that Remus groans and begins to shuffle in your arms. “Let’s go get cleaned up baby, we can head to the perfect washrooms,” Remus coos softly in your ear as he slowly pulls out of you.

You let out a throaty moan at the loss, desperately wanting to feel him back in you. But you also desperately wanted to go with him to clean up. Remus steps away from the desk and quickly slides on his pajamas before picking yours up. Your legs were weak so you stay put on the table allowing Remus to come help dress you.

“Thank you Remmy,” you whisper as he pulls on your pajama shorts and helps you slip on your top. You can feel Remus’s cum drip down your legs but you know there isn’t much you can do until you’re both in the bathroom.

And so you allow Remus to lead you out of the library and into the empty washroom just down the corridor. He turns and makes quick work on locking the door behind him using a charm.

You feel yourself gravitate towards the large bath, turning the handles to allow the water to run while you empty some bubble bath solution into the tube as well. Remus eyes you lovingly, feeling eager to once again strip you, but this time be able to help you wash up. He begins to peel off his own cloths before approaching you to help you do the same. You moan under his touch, allowing for his hands to gently pull the fabric off your sensitive skin. His cool hands run over your bare hips and stomach while you step into the tub. Remus is quick to follow, taking a seat behind you.

You lay with your back pressing against Remus’s chest, simply enjoying the feeling of him. He is quick to lather his hands in body wash so he can run them up and down your body once again. His hands rub gently into your sore shoulders, hips, and thighs, making sure to lather you up well. He then begins to apply the body wash to himself, wanting to smell just like you.

“We have to wash our hair baby,” you say as you begin scooping water up and over your head in order to drench your hair. Remus lets out a soft laugh as he aids you, wetting his hair as well in the process.

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Remus gushes as he begins washing your hair from behind. His fingers gently massaging into your scalp, making sure to wash the sweat away. You hum at the feeling and thank him for the compliment.

“I can wash your hair Rem,” you offer, allowing yourself to turn around in the large tub so you’re straddling him. You squeeze some of the shampoo into your hands and begin to lather it into his wet curly brown locks. You mimic his actions of massaging his scalp in hopes to make him feel as good as you felt.

You hear him let out a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of your fingers working through his hair. He allows his hands to rest at your lower back just above you ass. You feel comfortable this way, relishing in the feeling of being pushed up against each other once again. You like being naked together, even without anything sexual going on. The feeling of simply feeling each other up was enough to give you a warm tingly feeling as you stayed in each other’s embraces.

“I’m going to dip you backwards to get the soap out,” Remus teases suddenly.

A smile breaks out on your face followed by a “don’t you dare Remus Lupin!”

“Then let’s dive under love, this is basically a small swimming pool, we could swim around a bit.” Remus hits back with an evident smirk on his face. You laugh, pushing off of him in order to dunk under the water, resurfacing almost just as quickly. Remus let out a laugh following your lead in going under the water.

You both splashed around for a bit, talking, laughing, and just overall enjoying one another’s presence.

“It’s getting quite late,” you say after almost an hour of you and Remus’s swimming.

“We can head up to bed if you’d like, you can stay in my bed?” Remus offers shyly.

You looked at him surprised, “you-you would let me do that?”

“Of course bunny,” Remus hums pressing a kiss to your warm lips, “I’m not ready to leave your side yet.” He says with full honesty. You nod quickly, excitement coursing through your body at the thought of sleeping with Remus. You want more than anything to fall asleep in his arms tonight and the fact that he was offering brought you immense joy.

Remus helped you out of the tub as you both dry off with a quick drying spell, once again slipping on your cloths quickly.

You hurry out the bathroom and down the corridor wanting to get to the Gryffindor common room as fast as possible. Once you arrive Remus says the code quickly, pulling you behind him and up to his room.

You both sneak in as quietly as possible, making sure not to wake the other two boys. You were the first to make it to Remus’s bed, quickly ducking under the covers as he follows suit.

“Goodnight bunny,” Remus whispers pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight Rem, I love you,” you whisper back.

“I love you more” Remus coos, snuggling close to your warm body.

+++

You and Remus wake up before the other three boys and head to the great hall for breakfast. Though the boys weren’t too far behind as they took their seats next to you at the table.

“You guys were in the library last night?” Sirius asks looking between you and Remus.

“Yeah we were,” Remus replies casually, trying to be not suspicious as possible.

“How come?” James quips up.

“Oh, I was reading some stuff in the restricted section. I was wondering about wandless magic and transformations. Remus promised he’d help me with my research.” You reply with a smile. Both boys nod and begin to dig into their food.

As the tables begin to fill up with students Dumbledore stands up at his podium calling everyone’s attention. “It has come to my attention that two students were out last night past curfew. We are unaware who these students are, just that they could be heard in the library last night. This is a reminder to all of you that leaving your dormitories past curfew is strictly forbidden and punishable with a detention. On top of this, I also must have the awkward conversation that student’s are not to participate in sexual activities on school grounds, especially in the library or classrooms past curfew. Thank you.”

Dumbledore went to sit down as a hushed whisper came over the students wondering who was in the library last night having sex.

“That’s funny,” James laughs, “weren’t you two in the library last night?”

You and Remus quickly exchange a look as the gears in your three friends brains finally begin to turn.

“Wait a damn minute-“ Sirius begins to stammer.

“Did you…did you shag in the library?” Peter squeaks out.

“Fuck.” Both you and Remus mutter as you quickly gather your things and make a beeline for the exit.

You can both hear the snickers behind you as Sirius hyperventilates about how Remus Lupin shagged his girl.

+++

TAGLIST

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morallyinept · 30 days

Text

Reverence - A Ezra x Limb Prosthesis F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: A mysterious, vagabond man comes to your aid, and in return you show him some kindness. And over the course of a stormy night, you discover you both have more in common than just outward appearances.

Pairing: Ezra x Limb Prosthesis F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair, however. Reader has a prosthetic limb. She was born with an underdeveloped limb below the left knee. Reader's age is not mentioned, so you can determine/imagine it's you, if you'd like to, bub. Ezra is in his early-to-mid 40's.)

Word Count: 12.1k - because Ezra won't shut up. 🙃

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions and descriptions of limb loss/use of a prosthetic limb/Ezra is missing his arm/Reader is missing her leg below the knee/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) fingering/oral M & F receiving/there is no fetishising of limb loss here, it's real love/sex with very real bodies/an imagined world created within the Prospect universe/Ezra comes with a thesaurus

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The Pug is a skiv of a planet that seems to have been forgotten by time itself.

Its once-gleaming skyscrapers now stand as towering monuments to a bygone era; their facades stained with the grime of countless rotations. The feculent streets below are a tangled web of concrete and steel, where the lurid neon glow of Vayok advertising signs cast flickering shadows on the faces of the downtrodden masses.

The air of Puggert Bench is thick with the acrid stench of industry, a noxious cocktail of pollutants and toxic fumes that hang heavy over Noki District like a thick shroud.

The sound of machinery echoes through the streets, a constant reminder of the ceaseless churn of production that drives the small planet's rototiller economy, despite being nothing more than a mechanical layover for most passing through on freighters.

Despite the harshness of its environment, Puggert Bench is a livable place of vibrant contrasts. Here, lander pods zip past rusting hulks of abandoned ship corpses, their sleek orbs cutting through the smog with effortless grace.

The cloud stream, blocking out the sun in a haze of burnt umber that chokes you when it sticks to the back of your throat, carries on the breeze through the air into your nasal cavity as you breathe in. When you blow your nose later, black shit will present itself to you in your tissue, unless you wrap up with a mask or scarf whilst outside.

For every gleaming skyscraper and bustling marketplace, there are a dozen dark alleys and forgotten corners where the lawless thrive. In the shadows of the city's turgid underbelly, criminal syndicates and black-market traders ply their illicit loot prospected from alien moons; their activities hidden from the prying eyes of the less-than-honourable authorities.

Everyone is fair game in this place.

A place, where walking by yourself late at night probably isn’t a wise idea, but when left with little choice as your shift runs over - again - you brave it head on, picking up your often wonky steps with a hurried pace.

You’ve walked this grimy thoroughfare countless times, memorising the way with muscle memory. You wrap your fraying scarf round your face, cutting out the tar that burns on your tongue.

A slight drag on your gait, an itch surfaces where the buckles rub at your skin around your left knee joint. You stop, pinching and digging your fingers in over your pants to tug out the relief from the burn of the itch.

With each step, you’re reminded of the weight that bears down upon you - the prosthetic limb pressing back against your prickly marred skin with a relentless intensity. The artificial joint, no matter how seamlessly it's been integrated with your body, still causes a continual dull ache that reverberates through your bones with every movement.

You can switch it off sometimes, but the hard pavement beneath you seems to magnify every twinge of discomfort, every jolt that sends shockwaves of thudding pain coursing through your remaining upper limb with every step you take.

You’re still toying with the idea of trading it in for a bionic model, but the foreboding cost and invasive surgeries to wire it into your nerves - that come with their own horrific testimonials of those who’ve had it done, and done badly - far outweighs any desired practicality. Instead you navigate life with the callouses and blisters, used to them being part of your daily routine.

Slipping your fingers between the buckles offers minimal, sweet respite for a few blissful moments as you scratch, when suddenly, a hand shoots out from the darkness, grabbing you roughly by the arm and yanking you into a secluded alcove; the brick walls slick with the sweat of the city.

Before you can react, a gruff voice growls in your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

"Your credits. Now!" The assailant demands, his putrid breath hot against your neck as he presses a sharp object against your side.

Panic surges through your veins as you fumble for your wallet, your hands trembling with fear as you forget momentarily which pocket it’s in.

He shoves his hand in the pocket closest to him, rooting around in there uncouthly as you protest and struggle.

You’re both disturbed when a shadowy figure emerges from the darkness, with a quiet determination.

The newcomer is a man of imposing stature, his features obscured by the billowy hood of his tattered coat, and a facial scarf of his own that covers his nose down to his chin.

But what catches your attention most is the sight of his empty right sleeve, the fabric of his coat pinned haphazardly against his shoulder where his arm should be.

“I’d rethink that course of action, unless violence with a matched counterpart is what you're getting at.” The man warns in a steady, yet rich Southern drawl.

Your mugger mouths some regurgitated insult in Vayok. You don‘t fully speak it, but you know enough to know he’s mocking the obvious disability of the man, who simply chortles in response to a jibe he’s probably heard before.

But you're left wondering in bewilderment at how your apparent saviour will pull this off.

“You assume this handicap is to my detriment? Are you sure you wish to find out how inaccurate that misinformed assumption is?”

Undeterred by his physical limitation, the man squares his shoulders, his gaze locks on the attacker with unwavering resolve; a pair of dark eyes shining defiantly in the dim light of the alley.

In a matter of moments, fisticuffs ensue. It happens so fast, you're unsure who threw the first hook. Seizing the opportunity, you break free from the thief's grasp and stumble away; your heart pounding in your chest as you watch the scene unfold before you.

You watch helplessly as the man’s coat is torn where it’s previously pinned as they kerfuffle and tussle - the tear in the dirty fabric is deep. The one-armed man subdues your attacker, his movements fluid and precise despite his apparent infirmity.

But a surprise blow to the sternum knocks him down with a winded oof.

The bolt pistol is revealed; gleaming chromatic and pearly in the night air as it falls from the coat pocket of the man and skitters towards your feet.

A single squeeze on the trigger renders your attacker incapacitated, growling as he clutches his shoulder and stares up at you taking careful aim again.

The thief stumbles backward, his grip loosening on the man completely as he struggles to regain his balance. He’s all teeth and spittle as you watch the one-armed man take his hand - that’s still holding onto your wallet - and bends it back at a sickening angle.

The assailant yelps with the slow, deliberate cracking.

“Drop it, or I can assure you I’ll make it a more painful process than necessary.” The man warns.

The wallet clatters to the ground.

“Excellent. I suggest you hasten with speed to get your wound tended to, lest I change my mind about absolving myself from further violence.”

As the thief slinks away into the darkness, nursing his wounds and cursing under his breath, you turn to your saviour, your eyes wide with gratitude and dumbfounded admiration.

But he slumps down the wall clutching under his ribs, chest heaving.

“In Kevva’s name, woman!” He snarls when he sees you still taking aim.

Taking little risk, you keep a grip of the pistol, primed and ready.

“Yes,” he nods, breathing in raggedly. “Best to keep your wits about you, Birdie. There are all manner of beasties out here who would relish a chance to get you.” He sniffs deeply. “But tell me, do you treat all your saviours with the same warm welcome or am I the exception?”

“Can never be too certain.” You remark with a shaky hand. "It's like you say, all manner of beasties."

He looks at you like a dog sniffing out the other; sniffing out whether you’re a threat to him or not. Dark eyes preened on you and unrelenting.

“Keep it steady, pet.” He motions to the blaster with a subtle nod. “A weak grip makes an opportunity easy to exploit.”

You look at him suspiciously, two dark tar eyes regarding you back as he pulls down his scarf to breathe, and to show you his face for reassurance you assume, although the swampy air makes him cough and hack.

“Just some friendly advice.” He explains with a dull shrug. He sucks in air with a deep snort and spits out a globule of phlegm on the pavement.

“The mistake you make is assuming we’re friends.” You confirm confidently, although there's a tremor to your tone. Your body feels like jelly as you try to steady yourself.

“An underestimation I won’t make again, duly noted.” The man confirms as he struggles to stand upright himself.

“Do you need a hand?” You put to him as he struggles with balance.

He glares up at you with a rather repugnant look through cinched in brows. The two deep pits of his nostrils flare at you like black holes opening across the vacant universe that’ll swallow you whole.

“Sorry. Poor choice of words.” You quip, as you step towards his sneer. You remain steadfast with the bolt pistol, holding out your other hand.

He mutters fast under his breath, growling, and you don't catch it.

"What was that?" You query, suspiciously, arming the pistol again.

“Timid threats from a quashed maverick. I’m no harm to you, pet.” He holds his only palm out to you.

You take it and pull him upright to his feet. He passes your wallet to you with thick, grubby fingers and you surrender his bolt pistol in return, albeit reluctantly.

You shudder and gasp out, feeling the unrelenting burn around your prosthetic make itself known again; the adrenaline subsiding in your body.

“Quell your snivels. You remain unsullied. I'd garner that a win.” He says simply, noting your watery eyes. “He was nothing but a hungry brute.”

“Quite the hero, aren't you?” You remark with a scoff at his barbarous contempt towards you.

“Don’t mistake me for a gallant knight, I’m far from that. More of a superfluous hooligan, but I’m still a man with a mere iota of sympathy and respect for the superior species when they find themselves in trouble.” He eyes you carefully as you wibble about on your feet. “You're just a slip of a thing, why are you out so late wandering? Are you lost, little bird?”

“No. My shift… it ran over. This is my usual route home when there's no shuttle.”

“Do you often find yourself in trouble’s embrace?”

”Won’t be the first time, I'm sure.” You mutter.

“Unfortunate. I hear a surge-five is well on the way. Best be homeward.” He remarks with a click of his lips as he looks up at the glowering sky. The heavy swell of a incoming storm predicted is approaching in from the horizon in a cluster of almost onyx clouds.

His scowl softens as he looks back at you still trying to process the whole incident and remaining a little unsteady on your legs.

“I expect you to denounce the offer, but walking you back to your quarters would seem prudent, given the errant situation. I know I appear as a stranger to you, so I’ll respect your wishes if you decline.”

You don’t hear his words as you focus on remaining upright, trying to process the events.

“Oi. Woman. What say you?” He questions again, bringing you back to him.

“I can mend your coat.” You offer, fuzzing back in and your eyes fall on the large gaping flap on his right shoulder.

He looks down at the sleeve you nod to and a growl erupts from his lips at the tear. “That will be unnecessary.”

“Do you have another coat?”

“No.” He gruffs.

“Then it’s necessary.” You assert. “The surge-five is predicted to be harsh.”

He simply nods and drops his hood, shaking his head fully out from under it. An aquiline nose cuts a sharp line across his face, accentuating the aura of strength and intensity that surrounds him. But oddly, a small, messy blonde coiffure sticks out against his hairline, stark amongst a sea of dark oil-slicked tufts.

“I'm not holding out much optimism at your skill. The hole is quite impossible to simply mend.” He observes.

“You let me worry about my skill. I accept your offer of chivalry. It’s kind of you, thank you.” You say, with a pertinent nod.

“I’m not kind, pet, but the assumption is appreciated nonetheless.”

“Kind enough to walk me home and save me from losing my wage.” You tuck your wallet back into your jacket.

“I have enough on my conscience to reconcile with, let alone the thought of a woman of your calibre making it home in one piece.” He tucks the bolt pistol away inside his coat.

“My calibre?” You baulk.

“I meant it as a compliment, of course. Pretty thing like you out here is bound to attract some attention.” He says, eyeing your stance.

"Why are you out here anyway?"

“Minding my own. What’s your name, friend?”

You tell him and he nods. “Ezra.” He introduces. “I’m perplexed by your intentions.” Ezra replies flatly.

“All I offer is some tea and some respite from the incoming storm.” You say.

“Do you open your home to every vagabond you meet?”

“Only the charming ones.” You remark with a snort.

You’re convinced you see a grin turn up his lips. “No quid pro quo? Nothing is free, Birdie. Smart women like you, you know this.”

“I am smart. I offer you some food and drink and to patch up your coat, that’s all. I know very well you’re a stranger and could harbour ill intent despite this heroic facade you've presented.”

“It’s no facade.” He says with a frown.

“Good, because I have no qualms in putting a bolt in you should you try to turn on me, we clear?” You warn with a satisfied smirk.

"Been there, done that." Ezra eyes his stump with a wry grin before he rolls his eyes dramatically at your stern look. "Clear."

“I have my own bolt pistol back at home.” You warn.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. The fire in your belly serves warning well enough, Birdie. I wouldn’t dream of any chicanery.”

“Then follow me, Ezra.” You say, with a brewing smile.

Your tiny, poorly provisioned apartment is nestled in a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city.

A walk there that has you both absorbed in a mutual silence that offers a strange comfort, akin to the satisfaction of picking at a scab. Ezra mostly keeps his hand in his pocket and side glances you occasionally with parted lips as though he’ll say something, but doesn’t.

“Let me get you something for that.” You offer, as you note his knuckles when he takes them out of his pocket and pushes the rusted gate open for you.

“It’ll dry over soon enough.” He says, looking down at his bruised and bloodied fist.

“It’s cold and the winds are picking up.” You say, noting the ferocious sky churning overhead. “I’ll get the tea brewing. Come on up.”

“You’re not as frail as I first assumed. I must stop doing that.” Ezra mumbles as he looks you over.

“He took me by surprise. Had I been prepared, I might have thrown a hook or two.” You shrug. You note he hesitates behind you.

“Pertaining to the circumstances of our meeting, perhaps you might want to be alone?” You can sense the trepidation hanging around him; he’s wary of you and it pulls at something inside your chest.

“Come up, Ezra.” You repeat, ignoring him.

He lets go of the creaky gate behind him. “Far be it from me to deny a lady. Even if her taste is somewhat marred in misjudgement.”

“Something tells me I can trust you.”

“That would be your first mistake.” He assures.

“Well, this evening might surprise us both.” You say, as he follows up the steps behind you.

You take your time, hand sliding up the railing as he walks beside you. With each step, you focus intently on the movements of your prosthetic limb, adjusting your gait to compensate for its artificial nature.

You weight bear on your right side, loading your foot and keep your momentum forward up the stairs. You wince as you feel it rub uncomfortably again.

“Are you hurt?” Ezra asks as he examines your unhurried pace.

“No.” You shake your head with a rueful smile as you carry on.

The stairs, with their unforgiving surfaces and steep incline, pose a formidable obstacle, testing your resolve with each upward stride. The prosthetic, while marvellously engineered, lacks the finesse and flexibility of a natural limb, making each step a delicate balancing act between stability and control. The last thing you want to do is slip in front of him.

After you reach the eighth floor, slightly panting, he follows you round to the faded door of your apartment.

“Cosy,” Ezra retorts as he's introduced to your small, cramped world. “It's not often I’m rendered without speech.” Stacks of clutter balance precariously in columns on every available surface.

“I like to collect things.” You say nonchalantly.

“I can see that.” He counters, blinking as he steps through cautiously.

You hold your hand out expectantly for his coat and he hesitates.

“I can’t patch it if you’re wearing it.” You sway.

He slips it off his shoulders and you try not to look at the long sleeve that flaps without a hand at the bottom of it on his right side. His sweatshirt is terribly frayed and holey, and his pants seem loose and ill-fitting.

Boots that are at least a size too big for him clomp around his feet. His appearance, although broad and foreboding, also hints at the gaunt and destitute. There’s a peculiar smell emanating from him now he’s taken off his coat. Something sweetly rotten.

You beckon him through, tossing his heavy coat over your arm, and he follows you through to the living quarters; a stalwart room that overlooks the grimy city.

The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and lingering incense spices, mingling with the faint hum of electronic devices scattered throughout the cluttered space.

You switch on an air purifier and remove your scarf revealing your face to him fully as you instruct him to make himself comfortable in the ragged recliner.

You busy yourself in the small kitchenette, chinking cups and getting out a tin of med supplies for his hand. You throw a couple of packets of freeze dry in the warmer and set a timer.

On the splintered coffee table in the centre of the room, stacks of dog-eared books and half-empty mugs vie for space with an assortment of trinkets and knick-knacks thrown clumsily over it.

He leaves through the pages of a hefty book on mining. “Light reading material?” Ezra queries as he tosses the book down.

“Call it a tempered curiosity.” You say, coming through with the cups and the tin shoved under your arm.

“Curiosity killed the feline.”

“Yeah, but it has nine lives.” You state boldly to him and he smirks.

“I could tell you all you need to know. Was my profession, a man’s work.” Ezra explains as he takes the mug from you. The heat immediately absorbs into his fingers.

“You're a Prospector?” You ask, with raised eyebrows.

“I was. Not much of anything now.” His lips downturn into the rim of the mug.

“Where are you from, Earth? You look the type.” You ask him, settling slowly and rigidly into a rickety chair opposite a sewing machine in the corner.

You lay out his coat on your lap and reach for a pin cushion. It smells musty and wild, like the outdoors.

“From that suppurate shit-hole? No. Sorry to disappoint.” He smirks.

“Where then? Lau? Your accent hints at relations from a primitive Earth.” You probe.

“You seem well acquainted with it.” He says, reaching for the med tin and flipping it open. He tears at the packet of an antiseptic pad with his teeth, spitting the paper out that sticks to his lip.

“I read.” You smile as you regard him.

A rugged moustache adorns his upper lip, its edges slightly frayed, combined with a shadow of facial hair, adding to an air of menace that might initially catch one's attention. His presence in the small, dimly lit room feels both enigmatic and imposing.

If you had to guess, you propose him to be within his early fortieth, to forty-third rotation, or thereabouts. His skin carries a layer of grime, a testament to the rigours of his endeavours.

“The memory of my origin is hazy at best.” Ezra shrugs, as he presses his knuckles against the moist swab he lays out on the coffee table. He hisses with the sting. “Home hasn't been a concept that I’m all too familiar with. Although I’m informed it was blue like Earth was before it was ravaged. It's been a long time since I was stationed in permanence. My bones have always been restless.” He leans back in the recliner and sips at the fragrant tea. “This tea… it harbours memories.”

“Regale me.” You entice, as you thread the bobbin on your machine.

He licks round his lips savouring the citrus taste. “Have you ever ventured to Kerulon?”

“No.” You shake your head.

“A pisser of a planet, why would you? I got waylaid there once, on my fuknugt ship. Stranded for a time, which seems to be the continual narrative for my story, but I digress. It’s a planet on the edge of The Fringe, known for its vast expanses of sand and scorching twin suns that never set. Not much there at all except for a slow, agonising death. But as luck would have it, amidst the dunes that stretched endlessly towards the horizon, I sought refuge in a humble desert oasis. A rare oasis of life amidst the harsh landscape, it was tended to by a group of nomadic travellers known as the Sand Dwellers. They offered me a generous cup of their signature orange tea - a brew infused with spices native to Kerulon's desert flora, I’ve come to suspect. Your tea reminds me of that cup of salvation.”

Ezra sips another mouthful loudly and hums with his eyes closed.

“I got it from the marketplace.” You chirp.

“Really? How uncanny… And where exactly did you procure that?” His pointer finger, stubby and long points to the glassy jewel on your shelf by the grimy window.

“I found it.” You shrug.

He scoffs as he approaches and reaches for it as though drawn under a spell. “Birdie, do you know what this is?”

“A pretty rock.” You say with a lazy mirth.

He stands and fondles the faceted cabochon inside his big palm, eyeing the blood amber middle. “Aurelac. You’re sitting on an abundance of riches.”

“I’m well aware of Aurelac and it’s worth on the black market.” You press on the pedal under the table, and the coat slides through your machine fluidly.

Ezra blinks, bewildered. “You know it’s worth, and yet you’ve abdicated it as a paperweight?"

"Mhm."

"Such a curious creature, unable to be bribed by gems in abundance. You must be the only one not to be swayed by the allure. And that’s a rarity.”

“I don’t need riches. If it matters so much to you, you take it.” You simply say with earnest eyes.

Ezra baulks and struggles to form words.

“You Prospectors are all the same. Vultures just picking at the sinew on the bone. I’ve yet to meet a Prospector who didn’t live up to the reputation of harbouring an unsatisfied greed. You’ve killed for that.” You look at the gem wrapped inside his whopping palm with disdain.

“I have, and indulged in deeds far worse.” Ezra nods with a sigh through his enrapturing verbosity. But also a drained voice that indicates he’s just plain sick of this shit now, sick of it all.

Ezra smirks, bearing teeth and a corrupt murmur slips out. “Your assumption is emphatically sound, little bird. It's like a disease, the siren song of Aurelac knows no bound or reason. A sane man would always be swayed to harvest and reap. I couldn't count on all of our combined digits the number of times I’ve made lewd choices in spite of my perseverance to merely covet the riches that the Kevva forsaken moon bequeaths under her ample bosom. I've spent a long time there suckling at the teat. It only pains me now to ponder my very justifications for it to begin with, purging the bowels of that fecund wood…” He trails off grinding his teeth and sighing as he examines the unspoiled gem shining in his hand.

As you work, Ezra's voice pierces the silence once more, each syllable laden with a poignant blend of resignation and acceptance.

“There was a time when spitting off the edge of the world was an arrogant riot; to pillage and plunder with luck and careless abandon, but now with spirited discourse, I’ve settled into a freefall back into the harsh shunt of The Fringe. Some of us have the proclivity for greatness, while most do not. I fear I’ve become the latter.”

You look up at him and his face bears the worn lines and creases of hard experience, etched deep by the sun and wind, giving him a weathered and world-weary appearance.

His prominent nose adds to the pastiche of mystery and arcane belligerence that hovers about his person. A scruffy beard adorns his jawline, adding to his rugged and no-nonsense demeanour.

Oily hair streaked with grey at the temples, falls in disarray around his forehead, but what catches the eye most is the striking patch of blonde amidst the darker strands at the roots.

It seems like the evidence of a possible birthmark born in the hair line, or could just be a fashion choice exalted in bad taste. You make a mental note to ask him later. But it adds a unique touch to his plotline in a twist of his devious character as you ponder him and his story.

“Such a beauty,” Ezra remarks, observing you as he twists the jewel around his thick, calloused fingers. “It’ll fetch you a good sum.” He simply returns the gem to the shelf, his eyes lingering on it long after it leaves his grip.

Your eyes graze down to the missing appendage, trying to fill in the gaps on his pages, as you place pins in your teeth.

“Ah.” He notices your lingering gaze. “Go on, ask away.” Articulating around his Southern inflection with deep flutters of his tongue, it scatters out of it like jagged diamonds from the mines of Ajaxia.

You smile. “Nothing to ask.”

“I’m not foul to you like this?” You sense that he loathes it. Wired bitter with the loss.

Despite the initial challenges and the occasional stares from strangers when your limp overtakes you when your prosthetic becomes unbearable to bear full weight on, you refuse to be confined by societal expectations or limitations.

You throw yourself into mundane life with unparalleled gusto, pursuing your work with a fervour that could inspire those around you if they weren’t so ignorant and assuming. A trait that might only embolden Ezra too, the more time he spends with you, if he cares to.

The thought of revealing your commonality with him rests idle on your tongue however.

Yet, beneath your fearless exterior, you can harbour moments of doubt and insecurity. There are days when the weight of your prosthetic feels heavier than usual, and the whispers of self-doubt threaten to overshadow your resolve. You recognise it too, in his dark eyes right now, fierce, but also harbouring that self-loathing and defeated eroding.

It’s different for you, you don’t miss what you’ve never had, you only know a life like this, but for him? To have had it and then lost it, you can feel the decayed emotion that it evokes pouring from him, even if he never says the words out loud.

You stand, approaching him with his coat patched and he raises his eyebrows. “Far from it. We might have a common depth.” You mutter.

“I fail to see anything we share in common. However, you have magic in you, no doubt.” He says, as he admires his mended coat. “Witchcraft.” He smirks, running his fingers over the neat stitches.

“You have a way with words.” You smile, reaching for your cup.

“A flair, so I’m told. Thank you.” He says earnestly to you, eyes big and round.

“I work in the textile factory, my job.” You explain as you disappear into the kitchen when the beeper from the warmer goes off.

“I was good with both my hands too, once,” he surmises bleakly. “What meat is this?” Ezra enquires, chewing slowly to savour the peculiar tang from the heated freeze dry meal that you’ve thrust at him with a spoon.

“Trog. At least that's what I tell myself. Makes it go down easier.” You remark.

“Never look a gift trog in the mouth, I suppose that’s good counsel.” Ezra shrugs and shovels in more, steadying the packet in his crotch for support; the warmth of it seeping into his thigh muscles and warming him pleasantly.

“I’ve some Bitz Bars if you'd prefer?”

He shakes his head. “If I never see a Bitz Bar again it’ll be too soon.”

The brief silence between you is disturbed only by the battering swell outside that has increased in its voracity in the last hour, and the soft chews and gulps as you both devour your meal in ensconced silence.

It’s a harmonious, off-key beat that serves as the background chime to your dining encounter. Discreet in your mutual voyeurism as you eat and steal curious, yet wary glances at one another.

You’re sitting at the small table with your sewing machine, whilst Ezra masticates on the recliner, albeit much slower, and negotiates a spoon in a hand that’s not ambidextrous in the slightest.

“Tell me where you learned your skill.” Ezra prompts around a spin cycle of meat.

“I have many. You’ll need to be particular.” You finger a newly discovered hole on your kneecap idly and frown at it. You can see a peep of leather from the buckle tarnished underneath.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, pet.” Ezra smirks, as he chews through his mouthful and runs his tongue around his teeth dislodging pieces of meat; his dark eyes flashing to you briefly. “Specifically your skills with a needle,” he waggles his stump at you and his sleeve flaps about and knocks his pouch over. “Fucking tarnation!” He mutters, pissed.

You get up pliantly to assist him as he gathers the packet with quick snaps of his fingers. He spoon-scoops the contents off of his thigh, plopping the mounded heaps back into it, feeling the juice and gravy soak into his pants in a small, irritating patch.

“My grandmother taught me.” You say, dabbing at his thigh with a cloth.

He nods at you whilst continuing to alternate between cleaning himself of the spilled grains and meat, and eating it with good measure.

“Commit to a deal with me.” Ezra prompts after he swallows down the gristle.

“What kind of a deal?” You question, narrowly.

“I’ll tell you my story in its entirety and you regale me with yours in equal measure. Omit no detail too small.” Ezra declares.

“There’s really not much to tell. My life has not been spent roaming the Interplanetary digging up sparkly gems.” You remark.

“You sound bitter.”

“My hindrances keep me here.” You sigh.

“What hindrances?” He cocks his head at you.

“Tell me your story, Ezra.” You deflect as you settle back in the chair to eat.

Ezra smiles exaltedly. He relaxes back into the recliner after discarding the packet, whilst you listen keenly as he recounts how he came to be on the wretched moon with a group of like-minded individuals - rapscallions, as he refers to them - who were an entourage of the roguish sort.

Ragtag acquaintances he’d collected during his time prospecting many planets and satellites across the Interplanetary, but seemingly coming up short until The Green was set in his sights during the heights of the Aurelac rush.

Of course, man’s greed always complicates even the basics of well interpreted relations, and soon he found himself without his ship or his crew; most of them deciding to pick one another off over petty quarrels, whilst the successful of the rogues took to leaving the moon. And Ezra was stranded with nothing but a serious, yet mysterious being known only as Number Two, who filled the role of henchman to Ezra’s own smart, callous wit at genial leadership.

He reiterates to you, several times, that Number Two was not much of a conversationalist, much to his imminent dismay, so when he happened upon Damon, he informs you of the relief he felt to copulate wildly in words exchanged with a stranger, even if they weren't pleasantries.

It’s apparent to you, before he’s started to share his whimsical story, that Ezra has a rapt knack in kinking the tendrils of censorious intelligence and a dry sagacity that often blurs the lines of sarcasm and menace. Flowery, Southern treble clefs dance off of his tongue in a verbal, bewitching thrall, playing their music around your head in kaleidoscopic wonder.

The things he'd done, the things Ezra he'd lost, are all painted from his cracked lips for you to see and experience, unscathed in the most exquisite details and colour. Feeling as though you’re there with him by his side and witnessing the altered course into complete annihilation. He was sure he’d be abandoned by Cee in a warped juxtaposition that, even his attempts at atoning for his previous sins couldn’t seem to cleanse him of. He iterates wistfully that he should've seen it coming.

Ezra finalises the story with her gallant return and bringing him home rather than being left there to perish.

He’s notably candid when he speaks of his love for women - plural. He shares vulgar trysts about his many lovers on Luxillion, mostly whores whom he paid good credits for before he settled off on his wanderings, but who won't even entertain him now that he;s no longer whole. He mentions he occasionally dabbled freely in the delights of flesh with a fellow Y chromosome too; a flouted omission that makes your pores saturate at the outlandish, yet scandalous thought of it. His laying partners are of no prejudice.

Ezra is regimented in never speaking of an unrequited love nor a love that holds permanence inside of his beating organ of clogged ventricles. The closest Ezra has come to feeling an emotion akin to the desire to protect another is with the bolshie whippersnapper named Cee, who had saved him from his fate on The Green.

And then you, this very evening.

“What happened to her?” You enquire.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I woke up in a med bay and haven’t heard a whisper since. Skipped out with a sack full of gems. Good for her.” He remarks.

You watch as he winces and scowls down at his stump.

“Are you alright?” You query.

“Just an irritation" You watch as his lips curl back over his teeth. "Sometimes it… it feels as if it’s still there. Sears. Feels like I can still wiggle my fingers, the most peculiar thing.”

Nursing the aggravation is made small, as Ezra stares out at the window with a watery look making his scleras shine and the cords in his neck tense. Trying to push it to the back of his mind to be recycled into some distorted relief.

“That’s quite the story you shared.” You say.

“It’s but mine to keep. And now yours too, I guess.” Ezra sighs and winces again. “Do you happen to have anything for the burn?” He asks, feeling the pain grow and mutate from his wrangled nerves into his veins.

“I might have a tranq.”

“Bliss.” He says as you get up. He notices you take a moment to regain your balance, a slight limp to your gait as you make your way forward.

A large explosion-like sound is heard outside and you turn towards the window as the lights go out in your dingy apartment.

“Kevva’s wrath!” You gasp, a silhouette lit up by the purple lightning that rips terribly across the sky.

“Did something calamitous occur?” Ezra asks, standing too.

Aggressive thunder is heard rolling in once more as the rain pelts harder until it’s a tiresome skirmish battering the panes.

“Looks like a strike hit the fuse box. Whole District is out.” You say, hovering by the window.

“Perhaps it was a good call, your invitation.” Ezra says, a small smile unfolding on his lips.

“Mm. The rain is often acidic.” You retreat to the kitchen and find some medicine and some candles. Lighting a couple on the coffee table, you take a hold of Ezra’s sleeve after passing him the pill.

“Not a tranq unfortunately, but it might take the edge off.” You begin to roll his sleeve upwards.

“What are you doing?” He queries.

“Making it easier.” You say, softly. You pin it in place, and then fetch a spool and needle from your sewing table.

He watches, eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones as he stares down at your fingers working around the new hem of his sleeve you've created.

“I think I’ve seen you before... Around the District, down by the river.” You begin, carefully as you start to sew the sleeve in place. "You live there, don't you?"

He immediately bristles. “I don’t require charity. I’ll take my leave.”

“Ezra. You have nowhere to go. We both know that. It’s a dangerous night with the surge-five. Drink your xanadu tea and stay. You can take my bed.”

He sighs as his eyes shy away. “My predicament since my return from the Green has rendered me… unlucky, it’s true. There isn’t a place or a sympathetic ear here for people like me, and so my place is with shelter under the bridge. But I won’t spoil your evening with my dreary plight.”

“We can share in the dreariness.” You smirk, looking around at the dim confines of your apartment gloaming with waxy candlelight.

He sighs again as he watches you thread neat stitches to keep the sleeve in place.

“I can’t force you to stay. But I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe rather than outside in that. I’ll make do on the recliner. I insist.” You say as you glance at the lightning streaking across the sky.

“Kindness offered to a scoundrel. You are something, Birdie.”

“It’s only gratitude for what you did in the alley. We’re even.”

"If I were to take you up on your offer, I will sleep here. You won't be denied your bed."

"There's no argument, Ezra. You'll take the bed and we'll say no more about it." You confirm.

“You trust me fictitiously.”

“No, I trust you.” You correct him.

“You know nothing of me. I could take your treasure and run whilst you sleep.”

“So do it. I already told you I care not for it.” You say, as you thread the stitches carefully.

“Why don't you cash it in? You could improve your living quarters.” He suggests.

“My living quarters are fine as they are.” You reply with a frown.

He looks at you curiously, deep eyes burning into you as you find them with your own.

“I don’t care about the material things.”

“Pet, your dwelling is stacked with material things.” He grins. “Look at all this treasured garbage.”

“It’s gotten a bit out of hand admittedly. But it's mostly worthless.”

“What is worth it's weight to you?” He enquires, boldly.

“Life. Connection…" You catch his eyes. "Love.”

He scoffs as he brings his cup back to his lips and swallows the pill.

“Immaterial things.” You say, as you notice his gaze heading towards the Aurelac gem again.

“Before I left for the Green, the only material possession I owned was my ship. A Testing Screamer.”

“Fancy.” You remark, unimpressed.

“No, she was a patched up shit bucket of rust, with a channel rat infestation, but I worked her hard. She got the job done. As I recounted, words and metal flew amongst my crew and they left me there to seek my death without her. I came back with far less.” He says, glancing down at his missing arm. “So, I relish the importance of the immaterial, even if you assume otherwise of me.”

“I assume nothing, Ezra.” You confirm. “There. You’re all patched up. You’re free to go into the wily night if you're so adamant.” You wince at the chafing burn around your knee joint.

You’re keen to rid yourself of the prosthetic, but hesitate whilst he’s here. You don’t mean to be prickly, but it’s a burn that’s starting to irritate.

“I’ve offended you.”

“No.” You shake your head with a faint smile offered. “I’ve been really grateful for your company, actually. It's been nice to converse with someone.”

“Do you feel lonely, pet?” Ezra questions out of the blue.

You turn to face him, your knee knocking against his and you wince. “All the time.” You answer honestly.

“I find it hard to accept that you cloister yourself here alone each cycle.”

“Why?”

“Because you're indeed bewitching.”

His hand is felt on your waist, gently squeezing, and you stop him as he reaches your thigh.

“Too fast?” Ezra queries, reading your eyes carefully.

“No.” You smile. “But…” You sigh with a steady gulp and then take his hand, hesitating before you place it on your artificial calf just past your knee.

He immediately raises his eyebrows with a crooked smirk as he feels not soft flesh under your pants when he squeezes, but a hard shell. He knocks against it, bewildered.

“You come with secrets,” he hisses jovially.

“Missing pieces.” You correct.

“As do I.” He says as your eyes fall to his stump barely poking out of the rolled up sleeve now. “Tell me your story,” he murmurs hauntingly.

He begins inking soft kisses into your collarbone and you don’t stop his forwardness. Instead you close your eyes and relish the feel of the warm, tender contact offered.

“No story. I was simply born this way.” You sigh, feeling his lips burn on your skin. Your fingers run themselves through his oily nape and scritch into his scalp.

“Then there’s no less of you to love, pet.” Ezra groans, looking up at you. “A simple man would be worthy of your affections, even if just for a night?”

“Perhaps.” You smirk.

“Perhaps? Here you sit like Kevva pushed you out her womb for me, perfectly moulded from clay, and you say perhaps?”

You simply smirk as he looks at you, trying to figure you out.

“I’m not perfect.” You say, your eyes averting away.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’d like to see you bare.” He says, and you know immediately what he means.

You sigh out deeply and nod. “You too.”

“Birdie-”

“You. Too.” You sway. “Let me see you, Ezra.”

He watches as you stand and unzip your pants. You notice his eyes lingering on your centre for a moment, hidden beneath your bland underwear, but then his eyes trail down your left thigh to your knee where the buckles meet your skin.

You unbuckle your prosthetic without any meekness at all, leaning on his shoulder for support as he wraps his only arm around you, offering balance.

“I've got you, pet.”

You let it clatter to the floor and sit down in his lap, straddling him as his fingers tentatively brush over your revealed skin.

He, however, gulps as his fingers linger on the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Can I help you?” You ask him, and he shakes his head, pulling the offending item off clumsily and revealing his stump to you as his sweatshirt plops beside him.

“Beautiful,” he says, observing the smooth skin of your ungrown limb. You shudder as his fingers sweep delicately around and across it.

“Likewise,” you say, stroking down his arm to where it stops into a knot of twisty scars.

“Two peas in a dreary pod,” Ezra says, hooked nose brushing over yours.

“I don’t like peas.” You chuckle.

“Another commonality,” he smirks.

He watches as you reach forward behind him and take a small jar from the shelf. You push it into his hand as you open the lid and begin to scoop out some of the waxy salve inside.

The balm, infused with cooling agents and healing properties, provides instant relief to your inflamed skin with a comforting warmth; soothing the rawness that bears the brunt of the day's chafing from your prosthetic.

He inhales the scent, lifting the jar to his nose and hums at the fresh, earthy aroma.

“Homemade.” You clarify.

“More potions from my talented sorceress.” Ezra smirks. “May I?”

You nod, holding the jar for him as he scoops out a small dollop, and rubs it between his thick fingers until the consistency turns thin.

“Tingly,” he says in wonder.

He runs it gently around your skin, rounding the circumference and across the calloused welts and blisters, soothing and massaging gently.

“That feel good?” He queries with a bewitching smile all of his own.

"So good, Ezra." You nod with a breathy hum and he watches as you lean forward and kiss his stump gently, mouthing over the fibrous knots and welts.

“Your mouth is Kevva sent,” he groans as he watches you.

You run your tongue over it, kissing up his shoulder and tasting the salt of his neck. Tasting him there as he fondles and rubs your knee gently, fingers slick with the balm.

“Your ministrations, although kind, are wasted.” He gasps. “I’m not a man that can be tamed. I fear it's been too long that I won’t be gentle.” Ezra warns.

“Neither will I.” You growl as you pull him to you, teeth tugging on his lips.

He engulfs you wholly; his hand swamping your back for support as you crush him towards you. His tongue slithers into your mouth and you suck on it, gasping as you feel his blunt nails rake up your back over your shirt.

“Here?” He pants around your succulent mouth. “Or the comfort of your chambers?”

“Here. There. I don’t care. I just want you, Ezra.” You groan, your body tingling and sweating.

You squeal in delight as he stands with you abruptly, his sole arm keeping you wound tight around his body as he steps into your bedroom.

“I may only have one arm, but you're safe in it.” He reassures you by gripping you tight.

“Never doubted it.” You say, nuzzling into the salted musk of his neck as you cling on around it.

He twinkles as he smirks at you; those dark eyes regarding you with a controlled enthral, left to marinate spicily in your thoughts and on the fine hairs of your arms.

Outside, the sky growls, bearing its teeth as Ezra lays you on the bed. He watches you unbutton your shirt and pull off your panties, revealing yourself fully bare in all your flesh and graces to him.

His eyes roam over the contours of your body, taking in the shape of your tummy, your hips, the swell of your breasts. The way your right leg curls up and the way your left, stopping at the knee, moves with a seductive fluidness to it just like the other.

Your entire body is his to freely claim, to roam unbidden. Slick pussy to drown in, to worship at the altar.

He's never been a good man, undeserving of the fruit you bear freely to him now as he licks his salivating lips. But you make him feel good; a small, insidious voice convincing him he’s unworthy is quashed inside his mind, silenced blissfully as you beckon him forward and allow him to touch, to explore.

He’s marvelled by his own restraint, wanting nothing more than to tear into you - pull you apart and put you back together again. Yet he’s rendered docile, eager to draw long, haunting moans out of you as he tastes and feels each of them, taking his sweet, glorious time instead.

“You’re so…” He fails to find the right word in his mental thesaurus to do it justice. "I want nothing more than to whelve myself inside of your tight, hot cunt right now." Ezra sighs, staring at your slick centre, an obvious tent growing in his pants. “But first, we must discuss logistics."

You giggle looking up at him. “Fuck logistics, just get over here and fuck me.”

He shakes his head in disbelief at you, spread out before him and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Can you ride me?” He kneels on the bed, pink lacing his cheeks. “It’s easier if you can, my balance is often maligned. A chin to the nose might be an unpleasant douse to the fire.”

“I can. I might need you to support me if we go hard.” You nod.

“I can do whatever you need.” Ezra smirks crookedly. "Slow, fast... hard."

“What do you need?” You ask him, reaching for his face and planting kisses over it.

He smells wildly acrid, a build up of sweat and grime from the city has sunk into his flesh, but you’re undeterred as your mouth runs over his skin. Your cunt is so fucking wet just inhaling the stagnant, earthy hidrosis of him; beads of your slick running out of you in a delectable tickle.

“I need you to sit on my face, pet.” Ezra instructs you through a strained grunt, his lips curling up over his teeth as he helps position you above him.

You lower yourself down onto his waiting tongue, holding onto the bed railings. His arm is firmly around you, as assured.

He licks burning acid on your pussy, dissolving you down to the chalk of your bones as he tastes you; groaning into your folds hungrily. You grind on his mouth, chasing that blooming high that tingles and leaves you clawing in his hair desperately as he tongue fucks you gloriously.

You're basking in the pure pleasure of his mouth and tongue lapping at your pussy, all consuming and euphoric. Losing yourself to that dreamy build up of tension that arches your back and curls your toes.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, suddenly all that tension is released and pulses throughout your body. You fall into a zen state of absolutely nothing - just white, hot pleasure coursing through your body.

You forget everything. Your name. The aches from your prosthetic. You even forget to breathe. He’s taken your body and mind to this exquisite place simply with his mouth and lets you fly and float around up in there until you come down, and then he’ll build you up again and again.

“I could lick you for turns, pet.” He snuffles through a satiated smile.

It makes you melt into him, crumpled like paper. Burnt up and falling ashy onto his skin. His stump rests against your thigh, prodding gently against it as his hand sweeps down your back and grips onto your ass, pushing your cunt further onto his mouth.

You move your hips, writhing against his tongue as he licks up onto your clit and you cry out in relief at how good it feels.

“You taste divine,” he muffles around your sticky lips.

He pushes his head up, lips squelching around to get right in as your thighs ripple and shake as he brings you to the edge once more. You're standing on the precipice of the universe and looking down into it's swamping, glittery depth.

You rest back on your hands, your fingers squeezing around the meat of his thighs as his one hand blazes a journey over your belly and towards your breasts where he squeezes and massages the left in his grip. His eyes stare up at you and you stare down, lips parting as your moans increase.

His tongue is precisely erratic, licking, sucking and flicking in all the places he can get to to draw your orgasm out and make it last. A kaleidoscope of colours stream in the room, their waltz blinding you as they swirl and merge. You can feel it all over your body, the heat, the burning as you tense and coil.

When you come again, it feels like you're floating once more; your body slack and wibbly as you gush into his waiting mouth. And as much as you could let him do this, for indeed many a turn, you want him in your mouth too.

You move with ease, comfortable to slide across the sheets gracefully and with speed that makes him grin. Pulling his pants down, you see him in all of his thick, weeping glory.

"Fuck, Ezra..." You murmur at the sight of him.

“This is how you make me feel.” Ezra pants as you stare at the hard swell of him almost lunging out his groin at you.

His cock feels imposing; heavy and smooth. A flushed pink head swollen and leaking profusely. You feel how hard he is, how he’s acutely dripping for you; strings of pre-cum coming away in your palm as he brings it up to his mouth and licks it away whilst eyeing you.

And you can’t explain what it does to your body, let alone your brain, at how wet he is for you. And hard, so fucking hard that it bulges angrily; a taut, thick vein popping off on the side.

“Take me to paradise, Birdie.” Ezra hums, as he watches you slither between his legs and take him in your mouth.

Ezra's eyes roll into the back of his head and he bites his lip until it bleeds copper rust on his tongue. He makes some intangible sound as he looks down at his fat cock sucked slowly and deeply into your mouth.

He brushes your hair away with shaky fingers, unsure and unfamiliar with such a gentle movement that he orchestrates, thumb stroking over your cheek.

“You can take it deeper than that. I know you can. Let me slide all the way down in there. Feel me in your belly.” Ezra grunts.

He bucks his hips as you swallow, your fingers scratching into the soft, wiry hairs in his groin and over his belly. He fills your throat and you feel him twitch when you suck harder.

He pulls your head back and tells you to spit on it. Smirking, you do as he instructs, and he watches as the globule decorates him in crystal strings.

“More,” Ezra keens, as you spit and drool over his cock further.

You’re panting for it; desperate to have him inside of your mouth again as he keeps it close enough, but just out of reach from your lips - teasing with that crooked grin lacing down at you.

But then, he finally lets you have it again, and is enthralled as you take him in greedily like you’ve been starved.

Humming in satisfaction, you suck him down and swallow deep, feeling him prod at the back of your throat as he guides and controls you with his hand knotted in your hair.

His grunts are felt on the end of your clit, his satisfaction tingling all through your body and you get off on getting him off; grinding your hips against the comforter on the bed as you suck, chasing your own release. Groaning out around his cock when the sheet catches your clit deliciously.

You pull him out of your mouth in a wet slurp and begin kissing around his groin; each little kiss peppering him and absorbing into his skin, leaving further fiery brands as you go.

You haven’t lost interest in his dick, still grasping him in your hand and running it over him, but you’re interested in all of him now, want all of him.

He’s drawn into your eyes as they look up at him, as you work your way across his abdomen and leave his hand to weaken inside of your scalp. It drops to your jaw as he helps you slither up his body and kisses you.

He’s surprisingly gentle, explorative and leaves no part of you untouched by his lips as he’s only too willing to return the favour. He lays back, his body weakening as you sit on his cock; your hands running through his hair, massaging his scalp as his head lolls back and he loses himself to the feel of your nails scratching through it.

You’re squirming and pushing yourself down on his length.

“Oh, you want it all, huh? Take it. Fuck my cock, pet. It’s yours.” He husks.

“You feel so good.” You whine, pulling on his hips as you work.

“I'm going to make a mess of you when I come.” He grunts.

“I want you to fill me up, Ezra.”

“Flood you,” he groans. “Fuck, I want to ruin you, but I want you like this too. It’s confounding.” He pants.

"Plenty of time to ruin me," you groan.

The infinite kaleidoscope only intensifies, becoming more vivid. Bursts of colour explode from behind your eyelids and are felt warming you all over as his cock nudges against the deepest part inside of you.

“Ezra!”

You feel his mouth roaming your chest. Sucking your nipples between his teeth as he alternates, pulling on them, teasing them hard; the tiny spots around your areolas standing and tightening too. Little pleasurable bumps that each have their own nerve centre that make your pussy twinge and drip like a leaky faucet over his cock as you ride.

Soon you flop forward onto him, your breasts hitting the hardness of his chest. That delicious pull deep inside your belly makes itself known. That tight, knotting before you’ll snap back and release.

His pants increase and those growls start to haunt. He’s close. It’s in the way he grabs and paws at you more sloppy now, like he can barely hold on anymore.

All it takes is an enticing whisper from you, telling him to come, to let go, to fill you up, and his teeth sink into your shoulder.

He groans and grunts deeply, hips stuttering and candid whimpers leaving his breath. All the atoms of his being spilling into you, thick and warm as he drips out of your cunt over his thighs.

And Ezra doesn’t let you go. He keeps you there, kissing you, glued to his chest, fitted around him like a perfect puzzle piece.

The surge-five still roars outside, but seemingly less consequential.

The acidic rains have moved on and the window of the bedroom is speckled with only a few streaks of wayward drops that the wind blows in squiggly lines around it; the tail ends of shooting stars before they die out completely.

A little snuffle beside your ear focuses your attention on Ezra, still asleep beside you in the middle of the night; his stumped arm poking out of the bobbled blanket, and his other still curled under your back and ending around your waist.

His fingers twitch occasionally, as he jostles and flinches in his sleep, still branding on the skin on your navel. You wonder what he dreams about to make him shudder so.

Your head tilts to examine his face in the darkness. The slow roaming from the blonde tuft so stark in his chocolate hairline, to the way in which his eyelids flutter restlessly as his eyeballs move under them as though something is alive.

He pelts your face with light breaths that are warm and hardened, and yet it’s a scent that doesn’t putrefy as you allow yourself to be bathed in the warmth of them.

You refute anything that’ll disturb your peace right now, such as the dull urge to urinate, instead cocooning yourself further into this moment right here in Ezra’s sleep laden grip.

He’s unlike any other man you’ve ever met and it leaves you breathless as you examine his face whilst he sleeps beside you.

Thick eyelashes adorn his swollen, sealed lids and a wiry scar is a slapdash carving below his left eye socket, leaving your imagination to ponder how he obtained it.

A thick velvet slug, matted with sweat and the residue of your slick, clings to his top lip, whilst the rest of his chin and neck is garnished with unruly stubble that's in the throes of growing in length and sparsity in hodgepodge greying patches.

His lips, pale pink and fuller on the bottom set, are chapped and sore, much like your own as you continue to gnaw on them whilst you mull the events over of how this enigma came to be in your sheets this night.

“See something you like, Birdie?” Those lips move with a small gruff tone.

“Merely spectating.” You reply back, softly.

“Spectating? I think the term is voyeurism.” Ezra smiles with his eyes still closed, and the creases around them grow in number and folds.

You smile and Ezra can hear the moisture in your mouth click around your teeth at such a close proximity.

“Your lament protests about sleeping on the recliner were just a bunch of who shot John, weren't they?” He croons into the skin of your neck, dipping his head as he stretches. You feel him inhale deeply against your skin.

Ezra wonders briefly if he’s suffered another loss, for his left arm is numb with the weight of you resting on it. He wiggles his fingers bringing them back to life and feels your skin warm against it under the blanket.

“Your practicality has been lampshaded,” he whispers. “Tell me, did you plot this tryst into fruition?” He chuckles.

“One would think this situation is amusing to you,” you say.

“It’s ah… something.” That brazen itch turns from ghastly mania into a settling excitement, an accepted wave of rapture that shakes his bones at your warmth and proximity; the blood in his body rushing towards the end of his cock at breakneck speeds.

“I fear I won’t be able to resist sordid temptation much longer.” Ezra repeats, a dirty grunt escaping through his strained voice.

“Then don’t. Defile me at your whim.”

The sound of his haughty chuckle is both harmonious and husky at the same time as it reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest cavity. Ezra is most attractive when he smiles and laughs, you think. It completely changes his stern, scowled face.

Perfect, puffy lips crooking up into his cheeks revealing a dimple that draws the eye in; a smile that could convince the sun into imploding. But his smile has dissipated and those dark eyes are prying into places they ought not to pry again.

"I'm going to annihilate you, pet." He whispers, grazing his lips against your own. "You think you can take it?"

You know you’re stupid to think you can do this; nudge him to the precipice and encourage as he jumps off it willingly. Coax him to show you the most depraved, abominable parts of himself and not have some repercussions come and bite you on the ass for it.

See him unleashed fully; the worlds across the Interplanetary cracking open and their suns splitting into two as he savages and ravages.

But you want him despite all the swill and misfortune; you want him to make you fall apart - to totally obliterate you. Use you as mere clay for his own twisted satisfactions as he leaves imprints and eternal marks on you that’ll blister and bleed.

The way he touches you, the way he doesn't shy away from your body leaves you wanting for the affection he drowns you in. He’s your missing piece making you whole. He dilutes your pain with his own making it bearable.

You shudder at the feel of his fingers softly stroking over your half leg; a ghostly touch that you acutely zone into. His eyes are still brooding into yours.

"Break me." You urge.

“I can smell your sweet stink all over me." Ezra grunts as his fingers slip down the between your ass cheeks, leaving a devastation of goose pimples in their wake.

You rest your clipped knee onto his hip, opening you up for him. You bite your lip, gnawing frantically on the bottom as the path takes a delectable turn towards your cunt.

Your head swims; the hairs on your body and nipples coming alive. Feeling high and giddy, balanced on that precarious cusp of passing out, but not quite managing to do so.

You breathe out slowly as his fingers pause; the burn of them felt deep inside your core already as you clench around nothing, and the throb of your clit aches and prickles with a pang of eager want.

Ezra’s gaging; reading your reactions and fine tuning into that solid will that you’ve been dismantling slowly over the course of the last turn spent with him.

He knows, for it’s ambushed his own impenetrable walls too.

He feels your hand clamp around his cock as the tension in your body pulverises at any remaining restraint you have. He strokes over your mound towards your clit, and as soon as he touches it - that hard, pulsing nub - you both groan out in unison. His fingers push into your pussy, slow and thick as you gasp.

Your other hand fists inside his hair as your face draws nearer to his own, your eyes zoning in on his lips that are wet as he licks them.

“I will destroy you.” Ezra breathes, admitting defeat. “I have nothing to give you, pet.”

“I don’t want what credits can buy from you.” You moan as his fingers swipe over your clit. “You see me.”

“I do. I see all of you. I like what I see.” He tongues at the skin at your neck. “You see me, too.”

“It’s kinda hard not to, you’re like a neutron star.” You smile.

“You trying to woo me, pet?” He smirks, as he slides down your body, kissing over it as he goes, elbow pressed into the mattress for support.

“Is it working?” You gasp as he abruptly buries his head between your centre, and lets his tongue go to work.

Your head is thrown back in the pillows, your eyes greeted with that dark void of space; the stars turning in their spirals as time slows down and he pulls you out from the inside.

Marvelling at the true alchemy of his tongue as it laps at your wet folds and he slurps you up like water, dehydrated like he once was on Kerulon. Transcending above the highest point in infinity and still climbing as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your hand fists through his hair, drawing him closer; his nose dusting your clit as his tongue fucks deep and swallows all the sweet honey you have to give him.

“All I can do is take you to the stars.” He grunts. “Is that enough for you?”

“More than enough.” You whine as you come around his lips.

Ezra then spends the rest of the night breaking you apart, piece by piece, and putting you back together again, just as he said he would.

His voice wakes you, but not from beside you where you expect him to be.

“Consarn it, you fumbling bawheid!”

You quickly reach for a tattered robe and grab at your crutches, wooden and rickety beside the bed, and follow the infernal muttering to the kitchen where he’s standing around broken cups on the floor.

Ezra glances up at you with razor wire for lips pressed into a thin line.

“Were you making tea?” You enquire through heavy lids, and he turns bashfully from you, the broadest back presented and littered with constellations of freckles and moles.

“Yes trying, but my cumber-world impairment-” he grits his teeth “-makes me sloppy. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers curiously over him, determining him not to be an apparition but real; half expecting him to have fled already. You glance behind you and the Aurelac gem is still there on the shelf by the window as he left it.

“I can make the tea.” You smile softly, a hand reaching out to touch the expanse of his back, and his hackles immediately soften.

He steps to you, his singular hand finding the familiar shape of your waist as he pulls you close.

You take in the detailing on his worn face again. The way the pores on the smooth bump of his nose are marred with oil, the thickness of his brow; the entice of his full bottom lip.

Ezra wanders freely over your features too, from the shine in your eyes to the feel of your hair soft in his hand as he brushes his fingers through it like a comb.

He scratches up to your scalp massaging your skull as he steps closer into your personal space and your eyes close at the sensation of it, birthing millions of prickles across your skin; your nipples standing tall and hard beneath the slip of the gown you’d thrown on, like diamonds cutting through the thin fabric.

“How good does that feel?” His breath is drenched in a stale warmth on your face and you breathe the notes in deep.

"Really good." You breathe, nuzzling into his ministrations.

"Is your body defeated, pet, or can you take more?" He whispers into your crown.

You smirk. "More."

"Greedy." He snickers. "You'd make a fine Prospector."

Something’s hanging around in the air between you; something that’s unspoken. You’ve noticed it growing between you as the eventful turn has worn on into the night and seeks the new light of the dawn glowering through the smog.

It’s inside the delirious crookshank smile on his lips as he reveals it to you in between the comfortable silences when you talk. In his swampy brown eyes that take you in and feel as though he’s pulling you apart with them to see what’s really going on inside of your fibres and nerves.

And it's here again now as you linger, watching Ezra watching you, sensing that when the time comes to part from the questionable consternation of his company, it'll leave ruptures somewhere inside of you.

The black lacquer thoughts slither up from your spine and germinate insipid sparks into your core; a groundless lust that dizzies you from the smooth tickle of his fingers brushing down your hip and across your thigh.

You gasp as his fingers stray too close to your swollen centre, still drenched warm with his copious spend and aching from the stretch of him.

You’re weak for him; weak for those skilled fingers on his singular hand to be crawling inside of you and fucking you up, quite literally, as he weaves them in and out of your soaked pussy, curling them and wrapping you around them further.

“Ezra,” you gasp as he pumps them in and out, your balance swaying.

“Hold onto me,” he says, as you rest your crutches against the counter and wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls your only leg around his waist once more, hard cock bobbing at your perineum, lifting you with ease; his only hand resting on your ass, and carries you back to bed.

Ezra has you all over again, devouring, leaving his marks on your body. Revelling in the melodies of your panting chants of his name as he fucks deep and hard.

His lips part slowly as do yours, reacting to him. Drawn to him, drawn into him completely and controlled somehow like a puppet and he’s playing with your strings; plucking slowly and gently at you and you’ve no idea how.

No idea how you've gotten so willingly naked in front of a stranger, despite his strange appeal, and are allowing him to guide you like this. Thighs splayed open before him and showing him your most intimate self.

It doesn’t matter how, for it’s pure fucking bliss.

You slide down on his cock and ride him slowly, gently as his arm wraps you up and holds you close to him, almost crushing the life out of you as both you exertions wane.

You gasp out, letting his lips go as he fills you up again, makes you detach and lose yourself in this moment inside of his arms - inside of him.

And that’s the crux of it, you want to give him this, make him see that he’s worthy of love and affection and tenderness. You know what it’s like not to have that.

Ezra smiles faintly at you, giving into the feel of you lavishing your love on him.

He reaches down to grope your knee gently, and you shudder at the feel of his fingers brushing against it. You run your hand equally down his stump, and you watch as his eyes glisten before he scrunches them shut and crushes you against his chest as he spills inside you once more.

“The storm has quelled. I should take my leave.” He says distantly after, stroking over your smooth nub as it rests languidly across his torso. His gentle touch soothes better than the balm.

“You should stay.” You murmur, hoping he hasn't heard the longing in it. But of course, the plucky sleeveen has.

“We find ourselves in a quandary.” Ezra retorts as he draws circles over your skin with his fingers.

“Dare I ask what stories these tell?” You put to him as your fingers trace the marred lines over his sternum.

“Probably wise if you remain in the dark, Birdie. I was not a gentle man once upon a time.” His warning is stark, but his eyes are soft and velvety as you look at them.

“You know how to be gentle.” You sway.

He nods. “To those who I feel so inclined.” He nudges his nose against yours.

The skin of your knee is so soft despite the roughness of the chafe. It’s a sensation that imbues you with warmth rather than discomfort; his thick fingers caressing gently, exchanging heat between your skin.

You’ve never let anyone feel it before, but he doesn't shy away. Neither do you as you kiss and flick your tongue tenderly over the stump of his arm. You let your tongue dip into the jagged welts and fleshy riverbeds of his scars.

He hums out with his eyes closed as you explore languidly and find your way eventually back to his bruised lips.

He makes you feel seen, he makes you feel whole for the first time. And it’s a feeling you don’t want to let willingly extinguish. You kiss him deeply, fearing it might be the last time.

“Your hospitality has been most charitable, pet. The swell has dissipated satisfactorily.”

You sigh out. “This whole idea was just idiotic from the get go.” You’re already mourning the loss of him, another part failing to grow on your body, but he doesn’t move.

“Something I specialise in.” Ezra muses. But his smirk downturns when he sees your face. “Is that sincere affection you possibly harbour?”

“You think this whole time I spent with you was a ruse?” You frown.

He shakes his head. “I hope not. Did I fall victim to a spell?”

“I want you to stay, Ezra.” You say, reaching for his hand. “But only if you want to. There’s a place for you here, with me, if you want it.”

He closes his eyes, your knuckles resting on his lips, his thumb stroking over the hilt.

“You definitely have me under a spell. There’s no other possible explanation.” He hums as his eyes find yours staring back, unwavering. “You and your magic tea.”

“No magic. Maybe you just want to stay with me.” You smile, knowingly.

“Perhaps some things can’t be explained by the universe after all.”

“Perhaps it’s the Aurelac.” You snort. “That Siren song you Prospectors can't resist.”

Ezra shakes his head vehemently. “Maybe it’s just you, Birdie.” He smiles as he leans in to kiss you. “Maybe I finally found my missing piece.”

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Ezra, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

EZRA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal characters #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect fluff #tw limb loss #tw prosthesis #every body is beautiful #diversity #inclusivity #bodies series #jett's writing

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (1/?)

Summary: Sequel to In Flames I Sleep Soundly; After the divorce, Wanda refuses to give you up.

Chapter word count: 5k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Masturbation

Author’s Note: So... this AU wouldn’t leave me. For my new readers, you don’t have to read the first installment . This can be read as a standalone. Title is based on lyrics of “This Love” by Taylor Swift

AO3 | Masterlist

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta

Next Chapter: Two

One

It’s not a god damn funeral, Wanda thinks as she stares at her black outfit.

With a huff, she makes the quick decision to reach for the zipper near the curve of where her spine becomes her head, and then pulls it down so hastily it gets out of track and refuses to budge further than her waist.

Shit, Wanda curses under her breath, wiggling her arms from its sleeves, which isn’t exactly difficult given her recent weight loss. At first she tries to shimmy her body out of the dress, but she only succeeds in getting stuck further and sweating under her pits. Unfortunately the weight loss didn’t happen around her middle, and she also couldn’t get it to move upwards and over her head. The options are to either fix the zipper or destroy the dress. Wanda picks the latter.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she starts to frantically cut through the silky material. Her heart races as she terrorizes the dress with fervor–grunting Sokovian words she’s surprised she still remembers–until the dress pools at her feet in tatters. Wanda feels her energy depleted after, and she crawls on the bed to lie face down, on her stomach.

To some degree, her recent outbursts are gradually becoming a concern, especially since she’s back in her old Manhattan neighborhood. The smallest, most insignificant things tick her off, and a densely populated city like New York is filled with them.

Like last week, when she was shopping at Trader Joe’s, and someone kept hitting her backside with their cart while waiting at the counter.

“I swear to god, if you don’t lay the fuck off–” Wanda’s ears burned when she looked over her shoulder and saw a frail, old woman who looked like she didn't have many years left in her.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda croaked out and then pressed her lips in a straight hard line.

“Oh, it’s alright. We all have bad days. But sweetheart,” The old woman warmly smiled at her and then leaned closer as if to share a secret. “You need to get laid.” She added like she’s giving some age-old, archaic advice.

Wanda’s smile in return was pasty, and she hurried to remove almost half of the stuff(not without receiving a dirty look from an employee who had to put them all back) in her basket so she could leave the counter as soon as possible.

The mysterious universe had a dark sense of humor. It was sex that brought her to this manic-depressive, freak-out-at-a-grocery-store behavior, and to be told by a stranger that she needed more of it was just the icing on top of this tremendous fuckery of a year she’s had.

Wanda turns on her back and closes her eyes for a minute. She doesn’t even know why she’s wasted an hour of choosing what to wear for the day she gets legally separated from you. And yet she couldn’t help but give an extra effort to look good for you. All she knows is the days she gets to see you are rare. She can count on one hand the times you’ve met since that fateful lunch at the diner back in Westview. She needs to look her best in these opportunities.

She needs to look her best, and hopes you’d notice.

Glancing back at her wide-open wardrobe, that’s when she spots it. Hiding in the furthermost end of her rack, is a decade-old sundress she’s kept all this time.

The memory rises unbidden to her mind, before she could stop it.

It was the dress she wore on her first date with you. She recalls picking it specifically because it’s green. She wanted it to match her eyes–your favorite part of her body. It made you gape. It made you go almost stupid with want, forgetting the way to the restaurant where you made reservations because you wouldn’t stop staring at her.

By the end of that night though, the dress was lost somewhere along the trip from the door to the bedroom.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You whispered against her swollen lips, breaking the kiss while your hands roamed all over her shaking frame. Wanda merely moaned and put her lips to your neck, kissing every inch of available skin to her.

You’ve known each other for years. It didn’t feel like you were moving too fast. Rather, it was a culmination of sorts–seemingly platonic hugs that lasted just a tad longer than they should, the way your eyes always found each other in a crowded room, kisses on the cheek that came too close to the mouth. And not to mention, the other people you’ve both dated in those times of being more than friends but less than lovers.

The pace was actually agonizingly slow. A slow burn that had put all other slow burns to shame.

You directed Wanda back to your mouth and the kiss that ignited again is its own kind of sex. God, she never really understood the fuzz about making out because her sexual experiences in the past didn’t really pay much attention to foreplay. For a while, she was simply content with the sliding of lips and tongues. But then you dropped to the floor and began pulling down her soaked thong, while your dilated eyes never left hers.

Wanda’s breath hitched at seeing you fall to your knees and gaze at her with incomparable reverence. How could you worship her when you yourself were so achingly beautiful?

She needed you to touch her soon or she’d go crazy. “Please.”

Her panties only made it past one ankle before you dove in to taste her for the first time.

Wanda of the present comes at the ghost sensation of your tongue against her throbbing clit. In truth, it’s just her fingers that brought her to climax while she kneels at the center of her bed, her ruined underwear down past her thighs. She bucks her hips a couple of more times before falling back to the mattress, spent.

That old lady was right. An orgasm does help.

The divorce is final.

Today, she signed away any legal right she has as your partner. As for everyone else in the meeting room, it’s just another ordinary day to dissolve a marriage.

Wanda’s wearing the sundress that sort of accidentally gave her release this morning. You keep looking at her, no wonder trying to figure out why the dress looks so familiar. And Wanda can’t look at you straight in the eye without blushing.

You came in with your ever reliable back-up: Natasha. Now that you’re no longer married to her, Wanda’s insecurities about the true nature of your relationship with Natasha has come up to the surface. The way Natasha would pat your back and ask you if you’re alright. The way she’d ask you if you’d like something to drink. The way she also knows you take your coffee black with three teaspoons of brown sugar.

The way she’s just always there.

It annoys her enough that you said Natasha was your person, because then what was she to you? The title of soulmate triumphs over wife, and Wanda wants to be both. She wants all the titles.

Well, maybe not all. She definitely doesn’t want to be called your ex-wife. But she’ll accept the reality for your sake. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she’ll give you everything you want, even if it puts her on the sidelines.

“Hey, do you want to get coffee?” Wanda breaks the spell of silence that lasted some five minutes when your lawyers and Natasha left the room to give you two a moment.

She immediately wants to take back her words when you look at her incredulously like she had grown another head on her lithe, sagged shoulders.

“Seriously?” you say, and spitefully chuckle.

Wanda says nothing, just resorts to quietly admiring you in a skirt suit she’s never seen you wear before. In the short time you’ve both been separated, she’s noticed little changes of yours that makes her homesick for you. You will wear new clothes and shoes, get a new haircut, try a new hobby, walk a certain way, and then all these changes will pile up until you become this inconceivable stranger. Still beautiful–but a stranger nonetheless. She knows the consequences of her actions are harder on you, but maybe, just maybe, it’s equally hard for her too.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” you sigh, despondent. “Maybe for you it’s not, but today is the worst day of my life, Wanda. Or second. Or third. I don’t know. There’s so many of them recently, but this is definitely in the top three. I just want to be alone.”

Wanda will never get used to the way you’re now just either angry or tired of dealing with her. She’s afraid to reassess the odds of getting you back and finding out it’s worse than zero.

“Right,” Wanda says, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You hum in response.

“It is, you know?” Wanda says.

You shoot her a quizzical look.

“It’s hard for me too,” Wanda clarifies. “I spent all morning picking out what to wear and getting all dolled-up, in desperate hopes you’d–you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad, or–”

“No,” Wanda cuts in in panic. Somehow she keeps saying the wrong things. “It’s hard for me. Because it’s the end for our marriage when all I want is to be with you right now.”

You avert your gaze and nod solemnly at her as if you understood.

Do you?

Do you, perhaps, feel the same way? Or is she the only one still in love?

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you say, eyes downcast still refusing to meet her eyes. “I know it’s unfair for me to act like I’m the only one who’s hurting. I just–I’m tired of being angry and sad and lost all the time. And it doesn’t exactly help when you’re around. For once, I want to feel something else and I need to be alone to figure it out.”

I want to move on from you, is what Wanda thinks you really want to say and her eyes well up. This time, she prays you don’t glance her way. She might just break down right in front of you if you do. She’s never known this kind of desolation. And she only has herself to blame.

For once, she’s thankful for Natasha’s presence when she interrupts the moment, asking if you’re ready to leave.

“I am.” you tell Natasha. You get up and round the long table to approach Wanda. She could no longer stop the tears from falling when she felt you place your hand softly on her shoulder. The touch is so featherlight, it may as well just be her imagination.

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”

The pain that racks her entire body causes her to visibly shake. She has no idea how she’s still alive at this point. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes for a do-over. But the clock only moves forward, and it’s still moving to take you away.

Maybe time will also be the one to bring you back someday.

Two Months Later

Wanda hasn’t seen you since the divorce. Not once. Nor has she heard from you at all. While you didn’t downright reject her when she had told you that she’d try to get you back, her unanswered texts and unreturned calls should be more than enough to tell her otherwise.

Her only consolation is that you haven’t blocked her number yet. A few days after she last saw you, she texted to remind you to pick up the last of your things she has in possession. Natasha showed up at her door the very next morning, which confirms you still get her texts. The items are inconsequential in nature, but Wanda had the hardest time putting them in a box.

She spent an unnecessary amount of time arranging your hardbound books alphabetically (“It’s just not the same, but a Kindle user would never understand.” you’d explain to her whenever you’d shop for more) and cleaning each protector of your small collection of Funko toys (“A dozen more of those and you won’t have space left in your side of the cabinet. What does that leave you with?” Wanda would reprimand you after seeing a shopping bag full of them in the trunk of the car. “Happiness.” you’d reply with a sheepish grin).

She smiled contritely after she had sealed the package; how ironic that she terribly missed the things about you she’s the least fond of. It’s as if the grieving doesn’t have an end. And if she had known you’d send Natasha to retrieve them, she wouldn’t have given them away. She wanted to keep them–wants to keep more of you as much as possible. Wanda wouldn’t call herself a masochist though. Not really.

Because it’s not over yet. It will take as long as it needs to, and it won’t matter. Patience is her utmost virtue.

And Wanda believes you feel the same, because there are midnights where her phone would ring from an unknown number. She’d answer and listen to shaky, shallow breaths for a minute before the person on the other line ends the call. It couldn’t be anyone else but you, could it? These moments are always hazy, however, muddled by wine and prescription pills. But Wanda swears they happen.

The days aren’t so bleak when she pretends she’s still your wife, and you’re just in some faraway place–like a soldier that has gone to war, she’s left to count the days until she’s in your arms again. She goes about her routine as she’s always done when the two of you were still together; go for a run in the mornings, have eggs and toast for breakfast, and then walk Sparky in the afternoon. Her evenings, excruciating and long, are the loneliest hours. Sleep won’t come easy to her, if it comes at all. Her heart mostly breaks as well for Sparky, who still waits by the door around the time you used to arrive home from work. He’d patiently wait there until Wanda would call for him, or fall asleep in the exact same spot. And it’s not like she can talk to him and explain why you won’t come home. All Wanda can do is wait for Sparky to forget this learned behavior or forget you.

So, for the past two months, she’s been taking it one day at a time. It’s now the only way she knows how to survive. It’s working so far, she muses, as she stands before the proof of it while carrying Sparky under her arm, right in the middle of a quiet street in Queens.

Wanda had loaned the capital for the business right after the divorce papers were signed, and when she got the alimony from it, it was more than enough to pay back the loan in full and still for some change.

She wanted to create something out of what she had destroyed.

And that’s how the borough’s first Sokovian café came to be. Or at least will come to be when the renovations are finally completed. She can’t see much through the scaffolding that is still in place, but she can make out what it would look like once it’s officially open to the public.

Her contractor and fellow Sokovian migrant, Mr. Jacobs spots her from where he is installing the signage. “Ms. Maximoff!”

Wanda smiles up at him, brushing her bangs away from her sight. The haircut is recent and she kind of regrets it. “Is everything okay around here?”

“I believe so. There’s still some electrical stuff to finish, but I’m confident we’ll be done before your opening.” he tells Wanda.

Sparky starts squirming against Wanda’s hold. “Is it okay to come inside or should I come back another day?” Wanda asks.

“Of course. I had my boys clear out the area and install the A/C last night, so you should be comfortable.”

Perfect. She’s yet to test out the oven she ordered, and there are some new recipes she’d like to try.

“And Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, this place is going to do great. They’re gonna love you and our culture.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through Wanda’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” He gives her a salute before going back to work.

Wanda’s not ready for the emotion that consumes her when she steps inside her new café. She puts Sparky down on the hardwood flooring, and his nose immediately gets to work, sniffing every corner of the room he could find–which isn’t all that long to cover for a regular-sized Jack Russell Terrier like him. The rented space is relatively small, so Wanda had to be smart with its interior design; a long bench stretches from the open kitchen and counter to about two feet from the entrance, spanning two round dining tables that could sit two people at a time; by the window wall facing the street, is a high top table with two chairs. At most, three staff(including her) could fit in the open kitchen, along with a single espresso machine and a wall oven. All in all, the café can accommodate about six customers dining in at a time, which is why she’s hoping she’d do better with take-outs.

Wanda did all the decorations herself, top to bottom. The floral ceilings are a combination of autumn colors–your favorite season–and pendant lights subtly drop from them to emit a faint, yellow glow. The polished concrete wall of the dining area gives it an industrial vibe, while red brick tiles clad the panels of the kitchen area. For the finishing touches, Wanda decided to place a variety of potted plants in every corner of the room.

Standing at the center of it all, Wanda feels a sense of pride and fulfillment–something that seemed implausible to her just a few months before.

"Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a café business." You’d joke sometimes whenever she makes you coffee in the morning.

A shadow passes over her eyes as she looks out the window. Needless to say, there’s only one thing missing in it. The person she wants next to her when all her dreams come true.

You.

–

Pietro finishes a whole batch of white chocolate macadamia cookies by himself. Wanda’s twin brother flew in last weekend, a rare occurrence since she only sees him once a year at most. He’d be home in the holidays for dinner, and be gone the following day. He lives with a suitcase, and never stays in a city for longer than two weeks. Wanda wasn’t expecting he’d visit her after she broke the news of her divorce, knowing he had gone through the same ordeal twice already without fuss. Apparently, it’s a run-of-the-mill life event for her brother, and it almost did not make it to their bimonthly check-in calls.

“You’re gonna have to pay me for those.” Wanda tells him. She’s crouched on the floor, feeding Sparky strips of dried meat as she takes a break between baking and practicing her Youtube-acquired skill of Latte Art.

“I thought it’s a welcome home gift.” Pietro says, licking off the crumbs from his fingers. With the bleach in his hair extending to his medium stubbles, their resemblance is close to nonexistent.

“You earn ten times more than I do in a year.”

“So? What is family for if not free food?”

“It’s $52 dollars.” Wanda says.

Pietro hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Wanda smirks at him, pocketing the money in her apron. “I intended to.” She passes him a napkin, and gestures at his chin. He waves her off in a pompous manner, and instead, goes to the back of the shop to clean himself up. She didn’t think it’s possible to both know and not know someone at the same time. To look at them and see who they are versus who you think they’re supposed to be. In terms of money and status, he is miles ahead of Wanda, but perhaps at the cost of being unable to find the brother she shared her childhood with in Sokovia. Wanda’s not sure if he still exists beneath the layers of branded suits and expensive perfumes, she just knows she misses him terribly.

“Second Chances,” Pietro proclaims as he returns a minute later, waving his hands wildly with an imitation of a fanfare. “A little corny if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you,” Wanda contends and then proceeds to scrub the empty tray that Pietro left in the wake of his cookie binge. “It’s a good name. People can interpret it however they want.”

“And you? What was on your mind when you came up with it?”

Wanda doesn’t answer that.

“So,” Pietro jumps into a sitting position on the counter and lets his legs dangle from its edge.

“How’s the quarter-life crisis, sis?”

Wanda cocks an eyebrow and gives him a once over. “Better than yours. All things considered.”

Sparky comes up to him and stands on his hind legs to snuffle at his shiny loafers.

“Touché,” Pietro laughs good-naturedly and crosses his legs to avoid the dog’s attention. “It’s weird though, seeing you get into this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks.

“You’re not a salesperson, Wands. Remember your girl scout days? Dad would buy all your cookies because you can’t sell for shit.”

Wanda snorts noisily through her nose. “Mom can’t bake for shit.” She notices the smile fall from his lips at the offhand jab at her brother’s favored parent.

Wanda sighs. When she does get glimpses of the old Pietro, it’s mostly through negative triggers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Wanda starts to apologize but Pietro quickly changes the subject without a preamble.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you.”

Wanda suddenly drops the tray on the sink, the violent sound of metal hitting metal giving both of them a minor headache. She pauses to think, and then says, “How about you just ask me straight instead of skirting around the topic of she-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Okay,” Pietro says in an annoyingly placid tone. “What were you thinking, cheating on Y/N?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She did ask him to be blunt.

“I wasn’t. There’s… I don’t know how to explain it. There’s this missing gap, and I acted to fill that gap.”

“Was it something that’s missing in your relationship?” Pietro asks and props his cheek on his palm. The question is so familiar to her because she’s asked it herself countless times, the day she kissed Vision for the first time. There wasn’t an epiphany nor were there pieces falling into place when she had slept with him. And when she thought she loved him, it wasn’t because she thought she loved you any less. She came to the conclusion, not too long ago, that perhaps there’s just something rotten inside of her that she simply wasn’t aware of.

Wanda shakes her head, weary at making sense of herself and her decision to risk everything she’s built with you for something as cheap as a fling. “None of this was her fault. Her only mistake was falling for someone who’s way beneath her.”

“I always thought she’s too good for you, no offense.”

Wanda’s smile is brittle as she recalls how Pietro’s toast at the wedding started with that exact sentence, word-for-word. You had squeezed Wanda’s clammy hand as you listened to Pietro rant about Wanda, and jokingly express his regret that you married the lesser twin. Wanda apologized for his tactlessness, and you responded with a kiss to her cheek, telling her how wrong he was, how you were only good and she made you better.

“I’m sorry, Wands,” Pietro tells her earnestly. “I can’t say I’ve been through the same thing even with two divorces under my belt. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone the way you both were with each other–or at least, the way she was in love with you.”

“Thanks, but that's not necessary. I’m going to fix it.” she says.

It stings–the implication that Wanda was incapable of matching your love for her. But it only stings because it’s the truth. You deserve to be happy and she failed. And yet, she also can’t survive the thought of you getting the happiness you deserve from someone else. After all this time, her selfishness hasn’t been tamed.

Which is why Pietro’s next words hit her right in the gut. “Divorce can’t be fixed. Hell, it’s the only resolution for a terminal relationship. And hasn’t it crossed your mind that perhaps, she’s already met someone else?”

Wanda gives up on her search for the rolling pin. She cracks some eggs in a bowl and starts to furiously whisk by hand.

Maybe she’s an awful person for assuming you won’t be able to move on from her that easily.

But that’s just how she sees it.

“No.” she says.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know her, Piet.”

Pietro starts clapping in slow, steady beats. “She divorces you and you’re still so smug about how she’s so crazy about you.” he says.

“If you’ve ever felt loved by someone like her, you’d understand.”

Pietro ignores his sister’s underhanded attempt to hurt him back. He came to terms with the reality ages ago, that he’s probably not one of the lucky ones who will get to experience the kind love that Wanda boasts about with you. Maybe he had it once, not necessarily in a romantic sense. But when he thinks of love–real love–he thinks of no one but their estranged mother.

“Or maybe,” He jumps off the counter to retrieve his coat hanging from one of the dining chairs. “Love goes away eventually.”

“Not ours.”

Pietro couldn’t help the maniac laughter that escapes his throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

Wanda purses her lips, continues whisking.

“Okay, how about this. If you really love her, then you’d at least want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you.” Pietro tries to reason.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on the topic.”

“I’m a dick, not an asshole. And yes, there’s a difference.”

Wanda keeps working the whisk like a madwoman. Large amounts of bubbles are forming in the emulsion, and overbeating the egg mixture is definitely not in the recipe.

Pietro continues, “Yeah, I’m a cheater, same as you are–”

“Don’t you dare–” Wanda suddenly tosses the whisk on the worktop, a glint of something dangerous in her green eyes.

“Let me finish,” Pietro appeases lightly. “I’m a cheater. I cheated on my ex-wives. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself as some anti-hero who has the potential to be an actual hero and become the person they deserve to be with. Because I’ll never be that guy.”

“We’re not the same. We share a birthday, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“We share the same DNA, Wanda,” Pietro smiles through his frustration. Excessive stubbornness–another quality innate to Maximoffs. “But that’s not the point. You know she’d be better off without you. As cliché as it sounds, the only way you can actually show her you love her is by letting her go–completely.”

The shuddering sigh that escapes her is immediately followed by erratic sobs that go out of control fast. Pietro is right there in an instant, an arm thrown over her shoulder as her whole body jerks, rasping for air.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he murmurs into her crown. “You’ll be okay, Wands. I promise…you’ll be okay.”

“Will you be okay if I leave you here? I have to meet someone in a few.”

Wanda heard you say in earnest. She lost herself for a while, stunned by the kindest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The day flew by so quickly in your company, she hadn’t realized it was time to go. And to think that she almost skipped freshman orientation because going to New York University wasn’t exactly the plan. Columbia was–where her boyfriend was a junior.

Her boyfriend, who she forgot texted her an hour ago asking if she was ready to go, and hadn’t heard back from her.

“Y-Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” she mumbled, distracted by the glow of the sunset forming a halo around your head. You were beautiful in a way that was not entirely evident at first. Wanda was curious if anybody else had made the same discovery.

“It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”

“Likewise, Y/N.” she smiled like she’d been doing all day with you, and so frequently, that the muscles on her face were beginning to hurt a little.

The smile you returned her way was glorious, but in a flash you were already walking away. Wanda couldn’t describe the way she fervently despised watching you go, especially without your number on her phone and no means to contact you in the future.

“Y/N?” Wanda called out. Her heart seemed to swell and swing against her rib cage.

“Yes?”

“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”

And the kindest eyes that ever looked at her gave the answer.

Pietro leaves shortly after the tremors subside and her breathing returns to normal. The panic attacks aren’t that frequent, but she does get them now from time-to-time. They started right after the night you gave Wanda your wedding ring.

With her brother gone, Wanda is left to wonder if you’ve met someone. She is left to wonder if you’re no longer miserable like she is, if you’ve taken considerable strides in moving on with your life. She tries calling you. Not to talk, but just to check if you still haven’t blocked her number. After several rings, you don’t pick up as expected. Not a setback. Not a progress either. She pretends you’re asleep or in the shower. She pretends you mean to call her back, but forgets to.

And if a confirmation of not being blocked is all she gets, she’ll take it.

She’ll take what you can give even if it’s nothing.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel #unbetad #My writing #my fic

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