#[ v: there's only one guarantee: this moment. ]

[chmydarling]

cont.d from [x] @mistytown

❛ now, if you add the fury of a thousand hornets to that list, then you've got our resident no-nonsense southerner and medic ruby. as far as i'm aware, no other pocket-sized, violent-tempered red-heads have passed through here. sorry to disappoint. ❜

he quirks an eyebrow curiously. questions cautiously.

❛ this girl... is she, like, your daughter or something? ❜

[mashpotatoe]

im a white jew, i was born in israel,

ive lived there all my life and was brought up in an environment that fosters racism driven by nationalism, nationalism driven by racism.

in israel, they teach you jews and muslims (though usually, they just say arabs) have always been enemies, the same way the US deems the entire middle east as a inherent war zone, ridding them of the responsibility for perpetuating war in thst region.

they tell you "were the fair and humane side who strives for peace! its the arabs who never accept the offer!"

i remember the first time i began doubting that sentiment was in fourth grade, when we were having a discussion in class about the character of Saul from the Torah. the teacher was talking about how Saul, the first monarch of the Kingdom of Israel, used to fight the Philistines, and when she added that the Philistines were the natural enemy of the Israelites, she asked the class what group of people is their modern equivalent to which everyone very eagerly replied "Arabs!" and nevermind that there in that same class sat two arab boys, one of whom sat next to me, who i looked at and thought "but he isnt my enemy? hes just a boy in my class."

they teach you to hate arabs. sometimes they say it outright. sometimes they say it more carefully, or make a distinction between good and bad arabs, those who are with us and those who are against us.

in a state based on the idea of (white) jewish supremacy, they teach you jews are naturally superior. they use the conspiratorial narrative of "jews controlling the world" to their favor, giving their own watered down explanation for why antisemitism exists, saying that it must be driven by jealousy.

the zionist movement always used antisemitism to its advantage, either for reinforcing the notion of jewish supremacy or appealing to the real pain and trauma of generations, people who survived the holocaust, connecting them to stolen land where they are "guaranteed" safety ergo granting "justification" for the suffering of others.

its using peoples real pain that makes fear mongering so effective, and when the israeli population grows up being told all of their neighboring countries want to kill them, they quickly get defensive of the "only land where they can feel safe", but the only explanation ever provided for Why these neighboring countries are considered enemies is because theyre arabs.

and when it comes to palestine, it isnt even recognized as a country, nor identity. just a threat. ive talked to many people who are genuinely unaware of the occupation, and they arent willing to believe it either, because the media narrative has successfully shifted the blame on hamas. because "how could it be us? we want peace! its the terrorists who make us look bad! and their children, they grow up to be antisemites*, might as well get rid of them too!" they never stop to think what environment these children must grow up in to develop these "radical" ideas.

* what they mean by antisemite is really just antizionist, but the term anti/zionist isnt practiced in local dialect, being a zionist is treated as a given

any jew who stands against israels oppression is dubbed a self hating jew, but the biggest contributors to antisemitism is the people in charge of an ethnostate, because at any moment they could decide who is not white enough to be jewish, who is too jewish to be white, who stood against the current coalition government and who is an obedient dog.

israelis arent a monolith, but many of them have been won over, convinced its an "us v them" situation, when in reality it could never be the "us" that "loses"

the israeli government was waiting for an event like the massacre on the seventh of october to declare war, to have the so called "right to defend itself", so they could initiate the final steps of an ethnic genocide and displace, if not kill, all remaining palestinians. under the guise of bringing peace.

it isnt too late to call for a permanent ceasefire, to end the occupation.

please contact your representatives, attend protests and rallies if you are able. palestine will be free, and the flowers will rise again.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[ovaryacted]

GUARD DOG

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader || WC: 5.0k

SYNOPSIS: On another one of your joint club outings with Wade, your boyfriend Logan stands by to make sure you enjoy your night. Once you both arrive at your apartment, he tends to your needs and helps you relax.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Established Relationship. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, Reader is mid to late 20's]. Alcohol consumption. Kissing. Unprotected P in V. Shower sex. Fingering (f receiving). Manhandling. Biting/Marking Kink. Size Kink if you squint. Mutual fantasies of public sex. Worst!/Variant! Logan Howlett. Grumpy! Logan in public, soft! Logan in private. Wade is the third wheel who drinks for fun but can't get drunk (obvi). Descriptions of the reader's clothing (mini skirt & skimpy top). Reader is shorter than Logan in heels. Logan can pick the reader up.

A/N: Lord this was a pain in the ass to write for absolutely no reason, but I am glad it's done. Big shoutouts and thank yous to @ozarkthedog and @pedgito for reading this over and encouraging me. And also thank you to @zloshy and @studioghibelli for holding my hand and helping me out with the brainstorming process. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

To this day, Logan doesn’t know why he still puts up with Wade’s shit or agrees to his antics. But he doesn’t mind doing it so long as it keeps his eccentric friend off his back and keeps you happy.

The club he was brought to was loud, the air thick with the pungent stench of weed, and he swears he could distinctly sniff out cocaine in the bathrooms, irritating his nose. Bright strobe lights strained his vision, and the obnoxious pop music vibrating through the walls was anything but pleasing to his sensitive ears. Thankfully, the bar had Jack Daniels on the shelf, enough to do the job and keep himself busy.

He raises his arm to lean against the bar, sipping away at his fourth cup of whiskey, knowing that the buzz he feels will go away as quickly as it hits him. Adept eyes scanned the club, landing on your figure as you danced to the current song.

Logan admired the sway of your hips, the mini skirt you wore riding up your thighs with every pop and swivel. The low-cut top you paired it with shifted when your arms rose to the beat change, the open back showing more than enough skin to leave to the imagination. He could taste the light sheen of sweat from your neck at a distance, amplifying your natural pheromones that elevated the perfume you sprayed on earlier.

He did what he did best. He watched. Even with his dominating presence, he was hyper-aware of the other men who stood by prowling like hawks, stalking their prey and waiting for the best moment to attack. Wade was enough to keep you safe during your joint club outings, but now that he was with you, Logan ensured you made it home every night.

You were smart and vigilant, always were before you met him. But Logan was familiar with the instinctive behavior of men, especially men like him. Ill-tempered. Selfish. Prone to arguments and have an affinity to attract trouble. He knows what they were all thinking, creating mental checklists of what tricks they’d use to guarantee you went home with them instead. Countless fantasies of their hands feeling you up, touching you in ways that Logan was allowed to, in a way only he could.

His heart thumped in his ribs at the thought. The innate possession he felt towards you flared as he impatiently wiped his hand over the dark denim of his jeans, ignoring the growing itch to claw the next fucker that thought about coming within six feet of you.

You could hold your own; you’ve told him more than enough times that he didn’t need to stand by and monitor your every move. Yet he does it without hesitation, refusing to give anyone else a chance to breathe you in or get close enough to touch what was his. 

Wade waltzes to the bar and orders another martini, glancing at Logan and contorting his neck to peek at you dancing with a blissful smile.

“Having fun, Wolvie?” he asks, grin widening as his lips envelop the thin straw in his drink, slurping it up like a refreshing cup of water. 

“You know the answer to that,” Logan mutters, finishing the rest of his amber liquid in one gulp before tapping the cup on the bar countertop and asking for a refill. The bartender flashes him a look of concern, receiving a flick of Wade’s hand and topping off the glass.

“You’re five drinks in. Quit being so fucking grumpy,” Wade sneers, detecting someone walking in their direction. “Now flip that frown upside down, Logie bear. Our girl is coming over, and I don’t need you getting your panties in a twist because you’re moody.”

Logan rolled his eyes before spotting you striding to him, standing in front of the burly man with a hazy smile. He noticed the multitude of heads that turned to follow your direction, tracking you with every step you took toward the deviant pair. A low whistle seized his attention, Logan’s head rapidly spun at the sound to find its source and nip it in the bud. The growl settling in the back of his throat simmered down once your soft hand touched his chest, grounding him to you.

“Hey, old man.” Even in heels, you still couldn’t reach him face-to-face, smirking when his thick arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. “Enjoyed the show?”

“The music in here fucking sucks, but I can’t complain too much,” Logan’s lips hovered over the shell of your ear, lowering his voice as he spoke. “You were my favorite part.”

“Oh, you weren’t looking at the girl in the cocktail dress? I don’t know, her dress was real short.” The corner of his mouth curled up, challenging your statement that feigned any truth. Giggling, you clutched his bicep, the alcohol loosening your tongue to speak more bluntly. You pivoted to spot Wade, who watched you both from afar in animated shock.

“Problem?”

“Sorry, honey. I just can’t stand seeing the two of you be all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s very disturbing.” Wade finished his martini, ordering a margarita and explicitly asking for a tiny umbrella. “I hate that you took my spot. Creeping in like a slut into a happy home and snatching my man away.”

Ever since Wade had introduced you to Logan almost a year ago, it had been an instant connection he got front-row seats to witness. He was excited when he finally compelled Logan to go to the club you both frequented, recalling how he raked his eyes over you when you weren’t looking. It was only a matter of time before you left the club with Logan one night, and Wade met him at the front door the following day like a disappointed parent acknowledging his walk of shame. 

All jokes aside, considering the pair he just unleashed into the world, he would believe himself to be the city’s most qualified and successful cupid.

“Can’t call me a homewrecker if there was no home to wreck, sweetie,” you shrugged, hearing Logan’s dry chuckle.

“Sure, whatever. But you should be thanking me, you know? You get to have those big, meaty hands on you all the time. Not to mention you get to fuck him and actually see his d-”

“Wilson.” Logan’s voice cut him off, causing Wade to murmur under his breath. You fronted the brunette, messing with the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t be mean to him. He’s right. I do have the happy privilege of fucking you all the time.” Your glossy lips hypnotized Logan, his hand kneading your rear as he caught your breathless laugh again. He’ll never fully admit it, but he’s always loved your lack of filter when you had a little bit to drink. You were funny and engaging without needing the extra boost, but something about you being openly vulgar made his blood flow south.

“That you do.” His ego blazes inside him, leaning forward to kiss you in the club for the first time that night.

You happily accepted it with a pleased hum, tasting the Jack he’d been drinking and exchanging the flavor of vodka still on your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his jacket, body pulsing with need as the alcohol in your system beelined straight to your clit. Audible gagging noises pushed you to draw away from Logan, your drunken sight landing on the culprit.

“Oh, am I interrupting you guys? I told you to give me a PDA warning next time before you start getting freaky, otherwise I’m joining,” Wade taunted, getting a scoff from you and an irritated grunt from his friend.

“How about we share another drink? Will you forgive me then, Wadey?” You flapped your lashes at him, his wrinkly skin creasing to mimic your gleeful appearance.

“Fine, but only because you know how to sweet talk me. Tequila?” Your optimistic nod motivated him to order another round of shots for the two of you to down. You felt a gentle squeeze on your arm, meeting Logan’s gaze and silent questioning. Can you handle drinking more?

“Just a few more, and we’ll go, okay?” You stroked his chin, kissing the corner of his jaw in reassurance. He asked to test your senses, only intervening to stop if you were too far gone to speak to him. Unlike him, he wants you to keep your liver intact.

“Alright. But the second he starts offering you shit to snort, we’re leaving.”

“I would do no such thing!” Wade dramatically reacts, offering two tequila shots while holding some of his own. “Besides, I don’t need our precious darling over here fucking up her pretty nose. She needs that thing to smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

With another laugh, you swallowed the shot of clear liquid, inhaling a hiss and consuming the next, sucking on the lime to reset your tastebuds. Your body warmed with a buzz from the drink, an electric shock coursing through your veins as it roused you. 

“C’mon, sugarplum, you owe me a dance.” You didn’t have time to waste as Wade dragged you to the dance floor, throwing Logan a flirty wave and joining your mutual friend. The Wolverine returned to his position, manning his post and sipping on the remaining liquid in his glass. He kept tallies on the wandering eyes that gravitate to you, fighting the urge to rip out every single one.

He’ll keep the peace for your sake. You were already his, you’ve been his ever since you took him home and made him stay the night. What more did he have to prove?

It was nearing two in the morning when you finally decided to call it a night. By now, the heels on your feet started slipping, and your footing grew unsteady when you attempted to walk to the bathroom. You held your bearings long enough for Logan to call a cab home after buying some greasy food for you to eat, shooing Wade once he said he was stopping by Vanessa’s.

Logan’s touch was constant the entire way home, skimming your thigh and lower back in the cab, responding to every one of your little mumbles to keep you awake until you arrived at your apartment. Getting you out of the backseat was another hassle he was familiar with, aiding you to stand up straight without accidentally exposing yourself. The best solution he came up with was carrying you inside, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he held you steady and trekked inside the apartment complex.

He didn’t mind the faint squeezes of your arms or the clenches of your thighs around his waist. You were calm, safe, and happy, mindlessly humming in the crook of his neck as he eased his way through the front door. Strong arms entrapped you as the familiar walls of your bedroom filled your vision, Logan placing you on the edge of your bed with a huff of breath.

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water. Alright?” Logan’s hazel eyes met yours, taking in your feeble nod.

“Okay,” voice light and airy, you patiently waited for Logan to return as promised. Within a minute, he had a tall glass of cold water in his hand, a few ice cubes floating at the top.

“Open up. Need you to drink some of this for me.” Heeding his command, you sipped the refreshing beverage, soothing your parched throat. You got halfway down the glass before he drew the cup away, placing it on the bedside table for later.

“Let’s get these heels off now,” Logan suggested next, descending to his knees and bending his leg to raise your foot on his thigh, messing with the straps tied to your ankles.

“Yes, please. They’re fucking killing me.”

He chuckled as you wiggled your foot at him, allowing his thick fingers to unclasp the buckle that held your heels together. Peeling one of the shoes off and dropping it to the floor, he loosened the other, the heel falling to the ground with an audible thud.

Strong hands held your right foot by the ankle and gently twisted it, stretching the tendon after a long night out and doing the same to the left. You whizzed contently at the touch, the devoted rubs of his thumbs and forefingers massaging your feet after hours of dancing never failed to make you feel better. Before you started dating him, you underestimated Logan’s capacity to be affectionate, but he eventually got the hang of things once your relationship grew more steady. 

Sure, he had been alive a long time, you got that warning from Wade prior to meeting Logan. But once you cracked through that tough exterior, you developed a soft spot for the man buried under all that trauma.

“Always so nice to me yet grumpy with everyone else,” you said, running a hand through his hair as he stayed on his knees.

“You’re saying you don’t like special treatment?” he teased, the look in his eye heating your belly. He caressed your shin, drawing circles over your skin as you watched him.

“Never said that. Like it too much sometimes,” he stood up, kissing the top of your head and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s take those clothes off and get you in something less skimpy.”

“Already? You didn’t tell me anything about my skimpy outfit. Thought you liked it…” you feigned a pout, and Logan raised a curious eyebrow.

“You look good, you always do. I told you that before we left.” He loomed over you, a shiver rushing down your spine when his musk surrounded you. His hands were at either side of your hips, palms resting on the mattress as he observed you.

“I like it when you get all dolled up for me.” One of his knuckles moved to graze your bare forearm, the hair on your skin rising from the goosebumps that followed. “Hate that everyone else gets to look, though.”

“You did good tonight. Didn’t claw anybody in the ribs.” You were only half joking, but you knew it wasn’t such a farfetched idea for him to do just that. All it took was one guy to come too close, and Logan’s knuckles were splitting to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“Trust me, I was thinking it.”

“I know you were. Still happy you didn’t, so thank you for that.” You held his cheek and tenderly kissed him. “Now take my clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan tugged your mini skirt down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Your top was next, lifting your arms so he could pull it up from your torso, leaving your top half bare. He leaned back to take you in, raking his eyes over your uncovered figure. You were only clad in the lace black thong he noticed earlier when you were getting dressed, the thin piece of fabric doing nothing to conceal what he knew lay underneath.

“You’re staring again.” Your voice brought him to reality, a dry hum being his response.

“You don’t usually complain when I do,” he noted, growing more cocky at the uptick of the subdued tension between you.

“Because I like it when you look at me, smartass.” You held him by the fabric of the white tee hiding under his jacket, hands roaming over the expanse of his chest and stomach, messing with the metal of his belt buckle.

“Seems like you want something…” Logan hungrily watched as your legs spread wider to accommodate for his thicker ones between them, lingering to pounce on you.

“Want you to fuck me.” A rich groan tumbled out of Logan when you yanked him down for a kiss, chasing his tongue with your own and biting his bottom lip. His large hands skate over your thighs, textured fingers pinching your hip to keep you in place. Pulling his head away, he exhaled out of his nose, lightly grazing the tip of it against yours.

“Not until we shower. You smell like Wade and tequila.” He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, messing with the knobs to get the searing temperature you liked and coming to capture your dumbfounded expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” You shouldn’t be surprised. Though you think he was just finding more ways to get you to sober up.

“Very. I don’t need you smelling like him in bed. I want you to smell like you.”

Rising to your feet, you entered the bathroom and bent down to peel your thong off. Holding the last piece of clothing by the tip of your finger, you flung it to Logan, swaying your hips with an added flare as you stepped under the showerhead. The steaming water hit your aching body, comforting your sore legs from standing on an arch for so long. 

You heard shuffling from the other side of the glass barrier, enjoying the feel of the scalding spray as burly arms encircled your midriff, holding you loosely by the waist. Turning to face Logan, he eyed you with a softness reserved only when you were alone, your love worming its way into his cold heart and chipping away at the frozen bits and pieces over time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet from how hot this water is,” Logan jested, pressing yourself closer and gliding your fingers over his torso.

“You’ll get used to it,” you brushed his comment off, his rough fingertips coasting down your back, much softer than how he handled you in the club. “You’re the one that likes showering with me anyway.”

“Course I do, but I’ll never know how you tolerate this. You sure you aren’t the mutant here?” You lightly slapped his sternum, petting his skin with a shake of your head.

Logan maintained the scorching temperature of the shower stream as he held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, bending forward to kiss you, slow and passionate as it always was. You reached for his broad shoulders, opening your mouth to welcome his tongue, the muscle curling around yours with ease.

Maneuvering to pin you to the tiled wall, your hands ran up to the nape of his neck, driving your fingers through his wet hair as you sought more of his touch. Logan parted from you, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck, biting at the skin. Your breathing grew more sporadic, desire surging through you and flourishing between your thighs.

“Logan, please,” you were already begging for more, and he hadn’t done anything prevalent yet. Even with the alcohol slowly ebbing away, your arousal intensified, and a desperate craving for his attention overwhelmed you.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his tongue rolling down to your clavicle, sucking a mark into the side of your neck for you to uncover in the morning.

“Need you to touch me.” Unabashedly, you took one of his hands by the wrist, spreading your thighs to position it where you needed him most. His fingers quickly found your pussy, drenched and crying out for his touch. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers drifted up to your sensitive nub, twitching under the initial rubs he delivered.

“Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, sugar?” Logan’s ego continued to ascend as he observed the expressions on your face, your eyebrows furrowing when his digits plunged into your aching hole.

“Been like this for a while, hm?” The smooth timbre of his voice spurred you on, directing his free hand to hold the bottom of your thigh, raising it to his hip and keeping it in place.

“Since you kissed me in the club.” Your confession fell over his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving crescent indents in their wake. “Wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom.”

A deep moan rumbled in Logan’s chest at your words, crooking his fingers into that spot tucked at the roof of your entrance. You whined loudly at the touch, tossing your head back against the tile behind you and clenching hard around his thick digits.

“Next time. All you gotta do is bring me there, and I’ll fuck you over the sink.”

You couldn’t help but envision what it would be like to follow through on Logan’s proposal. How he’d pursue the imprint of your natural scent, mixing in with the aroma of your perfume that emanated off of you in waves. His lips would make a path over your shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks for the club members to see after he was done with you. His fingers would wrap around your throat as he fucked you against the counter of the bathroom sink, forcing you to look at your reflection as you took him from behind.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks in dark smudges, your lip gloss fading and leaving a ring on the base of his cock from when you sucked him off, his cum dribbling down your thighs while he grabs your torn underwear and stuffs them into his pocket. And once you’ve both had your fun, you’d take his hand and stroll out of the bathroom with a smile, proudly flaunting Logan’s claim for everyone to acknowledge who you belonged to.

He was focused on the dives of his fingers inside your cunt, concentrated pulses to your g-spot and sneakily adding his thumb to the mix to press into your clit. Your half-lidded eyes glanced at him, the tell-tale signs of your upcoming orgasm creeping up and building in your gut. Logan could sense it too, the increase in your heart rate and the pulsing of your walls signaled that you were getting close, desperately seeking that release he could give you.

“I know you’re close.” He picked up the pace of his fingers, punctuating his thrusts to work in a third digit to stretch you out properly, the circles on your bundle of nerves becoming relentless. “Come for me, darlin’. C’mon, let me feel it.”

Trained like a dog to obey his command, your climax hit you with force, the strained rope of tension snapping and shooting relief up your spine. Gripping at the nape of his neck, the moan you emitted resounded through the bathroom as your thighs quivered from Logan’s ministrations. The slick walls of your pussy convulsed around him, giving you a few more pumps with his fingers before he took them out, watching in a daze as he licked them to taste your slick with a satisfied grumble.

“Always taste so damn sweet,” Logan remarked, letting you taste yourself on his tongue with another kiss. The hard length of his cock twitched over your lower belly, the ache of being empty overwhelming your senses.

“You can take a little more right, princess?” It was a genuine question, analyzing your energy levels after a long night out. But you craved to feel Logan the best way you knew how, nodding your head at the thought of feeling him deep inside where he belonged.

“Want you, please,” you implored, large hands grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you from the ground, Logan’s strong hold keeping you upright on the wall. The tip of his cock bumped against your opening, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he said, mewling in pleasure as he sank into your waiting cunt.

You welcomed him without resistance, his legs and forearms flexing to hold you up as he drove his hips forward until he was down to the hilt. A whimper wormed its way out of your mouth once Logan was tucked snug inside you, the tip of him hitting depths only he could reach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him, legs wound tighter as you adjusted to him.

“That’s it. Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Logan confirmed with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing you in. He concentrated on the way your wet heat enveloped him so well, pussy molded to take him like that was your purpose.

Leaning more into your embrace, he began to move, shifting his hips to dive into you just the way you liked. Deep and even thrusts sent you reeling into ecstasy, your toes coiling as he persisted in his consistent pistoning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried out at his movements, the upright position Logan had you in propelled the tip of his cock to hit the roof of your entrance with rehearsed accuracy. Your clit came in contact with the hair at the base of his length, the delicious friction adding to the amplified sensations.

“Feel so good. Fucking warm and wet. Shit.” He rambled against your throat, both of his big hands cupping your ass and keeping you secure as he fucked up into you.

Logan used his strength to bounce you on top of him in time with his jabs, heavy balls smacking into you as he picked up the pace and chased his release. You tightened again, nails biting into the taut skin of his shoulders and raking down, drawing a noisy groan out of the man from the pain. His skin reddened with the streaks you left behind, mending together as his regenerative powers healed him in seconds, removing any evidence of your marks.

“Logan, need it, need you. Please.” He understood what you were asking for, the pounding of his hips getting sloppier on your instruction. “Want you to fill me up…”

“Cum again for me and I will. Fill your pussy up the way you need.”

He wasn’t asking. Your deft fingers went up to his hair and gave him a harsh yank, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, meshing your mouth with his. Logan panted a breath and followed with a hiss at the slight ache, the urge to fill you up awakening the most primal parts of him.

Your climax washed over you abruptly, mouth positioned in a silent scream as you unravel underneath Logan. He whispered words of praise in your ear, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he could. Your walls flexed and spasmed around him, soft cries morphing into helpless whimpers with every fierce buck of his wide hips. Molten pleasure surged down his back, and his hands sought purchase on your body, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck,” Logan rasped into your skin, stifling his growl with a sharp bite to your neck. The blunt ends of his teeth dug into you, hard enough to tear at your flesh that bloomed into bright red and will fade to purple.

With a few more lunges, he burrowed himself deep inside, painting your walls with his spend and claiming you like he always has. Your legs tensed around his abdomen, making sure to keep him safely tucked and not let a single drop go to waste. You slumped against him, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as he littered soft kisses over the marks he left behind in a muted apology. 

“Better now?” he asked, carefully bringing you to stand on the ground, keeping his hold on your hips in case your wobbly legs gave out.

“Mhm. Much better.” You nodded, offering him a kiss and enjoying the aftermath of your respective highs. The carnal appetite you felt earlier dimmed down to manageable levels now that you got what you wanted.

“Good,” Logan reciprocated your delicate kisses, doing what he could to calm and prep you for bed. He knows you could theoretically go for another round, but your exhaustion was palpable. He’d have to make up for it in the morning.

He took your loofah and body wash, pouring the liquid over the net fabric and scrubbing at your figure. He washed you meticulously, rinsing off the suds, and you returned the favor by cleansing him too. Your scents interlaced together as you washed each other, a smile sneaking up on Logan’s face at the realization.

After the shower, Logan did the honors of drying you off, rubbing you down with lotion, and grabbing a baggy dark T-shirt to dress you in. You brushed your teeth as he searched for his sweatpants, alternating between using the sink until you were both ready to end your night.

You eased into the mattress first, tugging the duvet to the side for Logan to follow you and lay on his back. Instinctively, you cuddled into his side once he made room for you, throwing an arm across his chest and lifting your leg to bend comfortably over his thigh.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast, right?” you questioned sleepily over his shoulder, familiar with the post-coitus routine he established in your relationship. In a few hours, you’ll find him making pancakes in the kitchen, or he’ll be under the sheets between your legs again. Either way, it’ll be a good start to your day so long as he’s the first thing you see when the sun beams through the bedroom window.

“I’ll think about it.” Jabbing at his ribs in mock retaliation, you closed your eyes and listened to the distant sounds of the city filling the room, soothing you to sleep.

“Love you, baby. “ You’ll doze off before you hear his reply, nuzzling into his body and chasing the stability and comfort of your personal weighted blanket and heater.

He waited until your breathing evened out and your heart rate leveled, beating on par with his. Giving you a side glance, you were fast asleep, embracing Logan like a teddy bear. Pressing one final kiss to your forehead, he watched you sleep for a while longer, stroking your backbone and holding you close.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[aniqua]

error: f13nd | yandere!qimir x droid!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, blood, toture, violence, alcoholic qimir, p in v, handjob, creampie, dacryphilia, pathetic dom qimir, overstim, everything that comes with yandere tendencies

✧note: please give feedback because the lengths I went through to post this. also, let me know what you think about the concept

✧word count: 5.5K

���series masterlist

Warm droplets of blood that had grouped on the edge of a busted lip were now flying across the room. The smell of iron filled the entire space much quicker than the screams of the victim it was coming from. Vermillion was splattering onto the walls, tables, and floors. Every time Qimir’s fist met the man’s face, the liquid that was seeping out of his broken skin was running for the hills and some of it had found shelter on Qimir's fabric. For the red that didn’t end up staining the wall or his fist, it dripped and mixed itself with tears and saliva until it inevitably made a trail down the man's chest.

“I-I mean,” Qimir shook his head in disbelief while his lip broke into a smirk as he gave himself a moment to laugh. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked. Qimir’s callous hands grabbed Menall's hair to pull his face up so Qimir could have a better look at the liar.

All the Sith could think about throughout the exchange was just how much of a waste of time the entire ordeal was. Most of the recent evenings were spent by you and him getting to know each other. Regardless, today he had to watch a sloppy merchant beg for his life by reciting promises like hymns as if anything he was saying was original.

“Menall,” Qimir kept the hold on the man’s, once dark now red, hair. “All I asked was for your best sensor and you sent me bullshit. That's not fair,” he chastised like a teacher.

“I didn’t sell the latest to anyone else! I swear! It was never for sale!” Menall's body shook as he cried. The merchant's own bodyguards watched the entire ordeal from across the room previously bruised and broken by only one man.

“But,” Qimir got closer to his face and smiled, “I didn’t ask for what was for sale. I said I wanted your best sensor."

The prospect of death was certainly an option. Nearly a guarantee since Qimir was known to have little patience. This was reason enough for Menall to look over to his guards and say, “Give it to him, you idiots!”

Before Qimir could finish wiping the red liquid off of his hands with the robe Menall wore, his goon came back with a small box. Once it was given in hand, Qimir opened it and glanced at the item before snapping the container close immediately.

“Thank you," he bowed. "It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

Before he could go, a silver dagger materialized from his hands, and just as quickly, Qimir had swiped at the merchant and took off his ear. The piece of tender flesh hit the ground before Menall could recognize the pain. However, when he did, he was howling even above Qimir's cool tone.

“Shhh,” was all Qimir said before the man was holding and choking on his sobs like hot vomit. With a few painful cries from within the merchant’s throat cutting through, Qimir said, “Remember, I don't like repeating myself.”

Once he was out the door, the only clue that he was ever there was a few coins to cover the difference of the newer sensor and a surgeon that could reattach the man’s ear.

The seediest parts of the city Qimir lived in had much to avoid at night but it was still a city that never went quiet. Parts of it were still mesmerizing and lively enough to enjoy on every late-night walk he took. On his journey home, he passed restaurants and markets that emitted laughter brighter than light. For most of the journey, beaming bulbs from each restaurant’s insides made his hood glow and lit the lower part of his face that wasn't obscured. He only stopped once to make a brief purchase before he was back on his way.

~

The clock within your vision read twenty minutes before midnight when the sound of his footsteps filled the quiet of the surroundings. You were pulled out of your book when you heard Qimir stumbling in. The sounds stopped when he recklessly landed on the couch before his feet could give in from exhaustion.

Qimir could hear your feet make their way over to him as he let the couch consume him like quicksand. Once he let out a heavy exhale and opened his eyes, there you were across from him on the couch. You stared at him like a rabbit as you went over his state.

“You smell of alcohol,” you spoke as if it were a trivia question.

When he looked over to you, his eyes were half-lidded. “At least your other senses work,” he says with a faint but teasing smile. He wasn't entirely done with working on you but he was too selfish to wait until he could find all the parts that he wanted once your appearance was a carbon copy of what you looked like just before you died.

He let his eyes shut briefly to let his spine melt. You moved closer and let your eyes inspect his body and the way he chose to relax. Parts of your vision picked up on his state as you processed every important and unimportant detail of him. 

“You’re hurt,” you said as you looked at the split skin on his knuckles. They were red from irritation and were darker in some crevices.

Qimir let out one last sigh before he brought his other hand to hold your face. The one that wasn’t marred with dried evidence that he hastily tried to wipe off as he was walking in. He always saved one throughout the confrontation so when he reached for you, he wouldn't stain you with his consequences.

You leaned closer until you were only a whisper away from his face. Qimir could feel his heart rapping in his ears as he heard you say plainly, “May I help?”

The way your chest rose and fell was so convincing as you looked at him for permission to proceed. He should have said no. You needed fixing first but there he was fighting his greed and self-loathing like a bruised villain. You didn’t even register a "yes" before he was taking your soft hands and navigating inside his pants.

With the day he had, he didn’t want foreplay and he knew teasing would only make him break the wood of the sofa in frustration. So, Qimir placed your hands on his warm member all the while you kept your focus on his eyes which almost made him come into your hands right then and there. 

“What should I do?” you asked. You were still adapting and hadn’t learned how to completely improvise yet.

“Stroke me,” he couldn’t hold back the way he nearly sounded like he was begging.

You wrapped your cold hand around him. Qimir felt something travel up his throat and get stuck there. You took your time with moving back and forth like he hadn't just begged you to start, “like this?” you asked.

He pulled you closer to his chest by the back of your neck and you immediately placed your free hand on his chest to hold yourself steady. You processed the gesture as a confirmation as you kept your focus. Your shining eyes stayed steady on him as Qimir felt every vein in his shaft go cold from your frigid strokes. His lips let out a breathy groan as his brown eyes danced to find somewhere to look to last longer.

“F-faster,” his voice shook as sweat traveled from his forehead to his bobbling Adam’s apple. He was already hot from the alcohol.

Your hand was steadily increasing in speed to the point where you had to pull his warm cock out to meet the cold air of the room for a better grip. His tip was just as rosey as the tips of his ears. A few drops of come had leaked out before that you used it to further lubricate your increasing speed. He let out another moan at that point that was louder than the last.

Certainly, Qimir’s heart rate made it obvious to you that he was soon to climax but what made it all the more evident was how to lept to kiss you. His biceps caged you under him on the couch. He never stopped rolling into your wet hand as he consumed your lips.

So his moans kept spilling out of his mouth to yours. However, you hadn’t returned the offering which was the whole reason for his reluctance in the first place. He fought all of heaven and earth to pull himself from your kisses. In the same shaky breath, he gripped your wrist tightly to stop your stroking.

“Is something wrong?” your eyes danced from his eyes to his lips and back.

He let his hand stroke your hair as he spoke, “Are you enjoying this,” he said.

You looked at him puzzled, “I am,” you said plainly. It almost made Qimir laugh with how factual you had made it sound. He had no doubts but this was another one of those learning curves.

“It’s hard to tell when you never make a sound,” he said. The way the gears were already shifting and within a few seconds he was sure you had pocketed that feedback into a part of your processing.

“Like this?” you said before crashing your lips into him and releasing a sigh into his mouth to return him the favor. 

Qimir had practically melted into your flowery mouth as he rushed to place his hand over yours that was wrapped around his swollen shaft. He quickened your pace and let you continue to bruise his lips as he nodded fervently to encourage the way you were latching to each other.

It was only a matter of time before he released a rumbling “fuck” from his chest. He collapsed as a white string of his release squirted over his pants.

~

When Qimir woke up a few hours into the night, he discovered himself to be passed out on the couch and you ended up in another room, charging. The mild headache that he felt meant nothing to him as he walked through his home. You were peacefully rested on a long platform completely still as the only indicator of your functioning being was a glowing ring that could power you off or reset you entirely. He followed the ring like it was a lighthouse as the sound of rain hit against window like pebbles.

Qimir pulled a large, duvet from his bed on his way and draped it over you once he was close enough. He straightened out the parts of it that missed covering you before he slid next to you onto the cold platform. It wasn’t at all comfortable. Oftentimes, he would wake up with a bad back but it didn't matter. This was a habit he formed when he first got you and paranoia never let him sleep for long when you weren’t within reach.

When you woke up a few hours after Qimir, you walked around the apartment before you descended the stairs into where the rest of the safe parts of the city knew him as an apothecary. You passed the trinkets that decorated the space that were older than your body was. Qimir caught you eyeing them one day and told you that he had given them to you every time he returned from an overnight mission so it gave you a sense of responsibility to dust them whenever you could. This applied to the rest of the place which was only able to stay clean because you had nothing better to do than to wake up, contemplate humanity, and head back to your charging station. 

Most of your consciousness was taken from your body and placed inside of an android and you were left to relearn how to practice humanity. You didn’t understand how Qimir felt about it until one day he had come to see you staring at a drawing that was the spitting image of you. At the time, your eyes adjusted and readjusted to take in every detail as you took in new information while he was frozen at the door. It went like this for a few moments before he took the journal you had found and snapped it shut.

“You’re home,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he was putting the journal away.

“Was that me?” is what your database remembers saying.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you before he kissed you on your forehead and ushered you downstairs.

Now, you were descending the stairs to meet him in his medicinal store that wasn’t open yet. He was sleeping when you saw him. You didn’t know much about anything to do with emotions but you did know that the perpetual crease in his brow and frown on his lips only went away when he was sleeping. It didn’t go away when he was drinking but he still did it. So, you spent a few seconds alone mixing plants and solutions before you woke him up.

“Today’s weather is sunny with slight chances of rain in the evening,” you recited as he stirred out of his sleep with your shakes to his shoulder.

“Most people just say that the weather is nice outside,” he groaned out of his sleep as he stretched. You pushed the small tube of blue solution toward him. “What’s this?” he said.

“You’re showing signs of dehydration. Follow this up with water,” you told him.

Qimir took the tube out of your hand for his hangover but took you as well as an offering. Without a warning, you were on his lap so suddenly. He didn't even need to touch you for you to end up there which was still a power of his you were adjusting to.

“Thank you,” he told you after finishing it in one swing. You could feel the way his heart was racing as he suddenly buried his face in the crook of your neck. To him, it was so impressive how your skin mimicked flesh so eerily. As he bit against your neck and let himself massage your collar with his mouth, he knew it would never bruise but it didn’t matter. This was the only thing keeping him from walking into the Jedi temple and causing a massacre or diving over the edge. He had created an indiscernible replacement that was doing a damn good job of keeping him from processing his grief.

When he was done, he moved to place you on top of the shop counter. It was closed that day so he was reaching for his shawl to head to the market.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him. 

“Yeah, I need to get you a better battery.”

“Can I come too?”

Your request stopped him dead in his tracks as he went over every possibility. He was ready to shoot you down, tell you that it wasn’t safe outside, but your words were progress. This was the first time you had asked for anything. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to have you have more stimuli to process. So he took off the shawl he had on and draped it over you just before taking your hand to lead you outside and into the city.

It was all so electrifying the way your senses were being overwhelmed by the environment. The foreign sounds of crowds coming and going from all directions were all you were inputting at first. Qimir was grasping your hand securely as you threaded to and fro with his destination in mind. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wandered all over in contrast to his focused gaze. Everything smelled like the rain that came suddenly in the middle of the night and every voice sounded like raindrops in a large storm.

Eventually, you made it to the market and the pace that you were keeping up with was decreased. Perhaps it was the more slowed-down atmosphere or the way your bright eyes were eager to take in everything but Qimir finally let go of your hand.

“Stay close,” he said as he walked around.

Qimir spent most of his time at the market looking over sellers until he came up disappointed in their selection and moved on to the next one. The both of you would walk up to a booth, and Qimir would ask a few questions about the variety, the seller may have even got as far as showing him a few battery options, but he'd eventually be on his way.  This repeated until he had broken the comfortable silence between the both of you.

“See anything you like?” he said.

But, you didn’t respond. The first few seconds weren’t a concern since he was hoping to give you time but when Qimir turned around to find you, you weren’t there. 

The way the ground was rushed from under him was instant.

His head whipped around as he watched people walk so casually passed him like he wasn’t distressed over your absence. He cut and pushed through strangers as he looked for signs of the brown shawl that he had given you. It felt like it was happening all over again which was making his hands clam up as he tried to materialize you out of thin air.

He was seconds away from throwing all he had worked for just to throw up all the tables at the market with the wave of his hand until the part of his brain looking for something to gnaw on found your voice amongst a sea. He went running without question and had his hands gripping onto your shoulder tight by the next breath.

“[Name]!”

“Qimir,” you looked up at him without any concern even though his eyes had looked as though he'd seen hell.

“I told you,” he was still catching his breath but it was clear to you that he was upset with the edge and volume in his voice “to stay close! And you just–”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. Qimir didn’t even get a chance to reprimand you before you took his hand and said “I made a friend.”

He followed your eyes to a seller whom he wouldn’t have known to be an advanced android if he hadn’t spent weeks helping to craft you. The android waved.

“Isn't he fascinating? He's the latest to launch with his retinal disparities solved—” you were expelling information to Qimir but the entire time he was looking at the seller. Even under the fabric, Qimir could see the android carried an enviable build because it didn’t require any of the disciplines that Qimir had. The stranger even sported a polite smile that reached his eyes like all were programmed to do. The Sith spent his time looking over the being to find a hole in the persona but when he found nothing he checked back into the conversation you resumed with your fellow machine.

“You got any type 13 batteries?” he interrupts with a tight-lipped smile.

“Type 13C,” the android repeats as he sifts through a catalog behind the table. “You guys are in luck. I have one more left." Qimir didn't miss the way the android looked over at you when he said that.

~

The walk back home should have been pleasant but Qimir spent most of it peeved even once he made it inside away from the brewing storm.

“You’re upset,” you looked at him in the empty apartment as he put a bag down. Qimir didn’t say anything about your statement so you thought to solve it the only way you knew how. You went to him as you calculated every way your decision could end.

You were kissing him in record time. Qimir felt your cold lips mold into him as he tried to keep focus on the root of his frustration. However, you were a fast learner because, by the time you placed him under your shirt, he was entirely distracted. You were getting so good at acting like you used to when you were human.

“Qimir,” you moaned as you felt him squeeze your breast. His breathing was picking up as you broke the kiss for a moment but things were going right back to how they were before when he went back to kissing you. He went right back to kneading your breasts and making a mockery of your sensitive nipples.

It would have gone farther but Qimir told himself that he’d swap your parts since he couldn’t spend another day holding back.

“Let me fix you,” he placed his forehead onto yours as spoken and traded his hands under your shirt for around your waist. “Okay?” he said.

You accepted the way his hands wrapped around your neck. It felt warm and comforting as he pressed your power button. The heaviness of your parts became clear when you went limp and into unconsciousness but you never met the ground since Qimir’s hand never left your neck until he secured your position to pick you up and walk you to your charging platform.

The way he admired you as he carefully peeled off your clothes. For every clothing item he took off, he felt his mind get quieter until your naked body made it all go silent. 

Just as the rain started once more, Qimir started the rest of his day by reaching for his tool kit. He would open you up and give you every knee sensor, motor, and battery he had gotten for you to be the best. The closest to human he could get you.

~

Your vision was beyond better than it used to be when you woke up. 24 hours had gone by and you were now heading off of your platform. It was an odd feeling to be able to now feel the temperature. Had your home always been cold? Even the robe around you did little to keep the air from bitting at your appendages.

Your bare feet walked around the apartment searching for Qimir until you found him in the same room he had disassembled you. There on the stretcher was the body of the android who gave you your new battery and Qimir was still fishing to store spare parts for later.

“I’m upset.” That was all you said as you interrupted his fixated tinkering.

“What?” He looked up at you over his glasses. “Do you miss him?” This was the first time you were picking up that he was mocking you.

“What are you talking about?” you said in annoyance. The spectrum of your emotions was much deeper now.

Qimir placed his utensils down, took off his glasses, and walked over to you.

“You said you liked him, right? So what did you expect me to do?” he spoke in that whisper that he only used when he was trying to reason with you.

“So you broke him down to pieces,” you said.

By now, Qimir had your face in his hands.

“I didn’t ask this of you,” you told him as you held onto both of his arms.

“Oh, come on. You were practically begging for it, the way you were looking at him. I gave you what you wanted. Right? Those eyes that you liked so much.”

“I didn’t want that,” you said. You should have been pulling away from him and told him how much of a monster he was as you looked past him and saw pieces of hardware and flesh haphazardly mixed together. He had practically eaten the android down to the bone trying to salvage every scrap he could find until he was reduced to nothing. Yet, you were just as much up a hypocrite to want the same man who gave you your first feeling of disgust to comfort you at the same time.

“How do you know what you want, [Name]?” he let go of your face but kept walking forward even as you were stepping back.

“I do!” your declaration cut through the cold room as he had you cornered.

“So what?” he caged you with both of his hands as he maintained a hard look into your eyes. “you want your boyfriend back?” he teased you with a raised chin.

“He is not my boyfriend… You’re my idiot boyfriend.” you fired back as you pushed against his chest. You used the opportunity to get out of the prison he put you in.

You had got a new sense of humor. It would have fascinated Qimir if he wasn’t secretly eager to keep pushing you. With the wave of his hand, he watches you get pulled back to him at such a speed that your chest hits against his with a thud.

“Qimir.” You wanted to ask him what he was thinking because it was killing you.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s distracting” he told you.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he laughed lightly but it still reached his shoulders.

Your patience was being tested since no amount of calculating or sifting through your data could get you to figure out how to prove him wrong. 

“Oh,” he said. “... you do.” You didn’t miss the way that the corner of his lips was holding back a smile that was on the edge of sanity. His brown eyes didn’t look the same anymore.

“Come on,” you heard him say as you were scared he was right. He drew closer as he hovered over your lips but he tortured you since he never let your mouths meet. 

“Ask me for it,” he said. Qimir could swear that he was doing his best to hold back because whenever you had a look on your face that you were processing, he felt this feeling in his chest to consume you.

“Qimir,” you held onto yourself but by the time you felt the room becoming to how you just managed to say “please.”

You pushed your lips onto him as he brought you against the wall to attack you with all you could handle. Qimir let his lips start at your mouth before he made his way down. He sucked at your jaw just to travel to your neck. You let out a few scattered moans every time he pushed forward until he was untying your robe.

He didn’t let you think for a moment when his hand found its way past your robe and in between your folds. You blinked once, then twice as your lips were spilling moans all over.

“How does it feel,” he said but you didn’t register it the first time. “Huh?” he was practically pressing you for a response as his thumb rubbed the bud in between as his middle finger was slowly being consumed by the contraction of your hole taking him in.

“W-warm,” you confessed as your hand instinctively latched onto his arm.

“Aren’t you glad I got you a new sensor?” he tilted his hand to tease you while looking through his lashes. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you felt the temperature of your body increase. Qimir was having too much fun. “Hm?”

He took his other hand to rub furiously against your warm, wet lips so he can focus on just pushing in and out of you at an impossible speed with the middle finger that he was using. The sound of him going in, out, back, and forth was loud enough for you to hear as the liquids that were seeping out of you were just being pushed back in his thick fingers.

You were so overwhelmed that your mouth opened but not a sound came out of you. You could hear your name being called but all you could focus on was how little control you had over your thighs as they were squeezing so tightly. Qimir saw the way you tried to snap shut but he pried you back open with his legs until your knees were buckling under the sensation.

“Come on keep standing.” he drove into you further with his fingers almost to bring you back up “You can do it,” he said.

“I ca–I can’t,” you cried. Your tears that had welled up were finally spilling over and it only made Qimir’s pants tighter as he watched.

“Yes, you can,”  he said. He could tell you were close with the way your breathing was so irregular. That only made it worse for you as he took the opportunity to put another finger into you without warning. That clearly did it for you when he felt your pussy practically latch down on him like they were trying to push him out. 

The way you cried at your climax did something to Qimir’s thoughts.

“There you go.” he mumbled. The juices that came out of you and spilled all over his fingers made him tell you “Good girl,” with such breathiness.

“Don’t get tired on me yet. We still got more things to test out.” Qimir picked you up so effortlessly. It felt like you blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was lying down with his back on the couch and you seated and secured near his hips. His member was just as flush as it was a few days before. 

You were smart enough to understand what you wanted to do but you had no experience to know what it was about to feel like. Qimir was waiting with bated breath to see what you’d choose. A balloon was in your chest as you looked at his cock. When you wrapped your hands around it, Qimir felt a shutter travel up his spine. You rose carefully and adjusted yourself directly above his tip. As you sank, you could hear the wet noises that were coming from below as your quivering lips were sucking Qimir in with so little resistance. 

Qimir threw his head back as he gasped. He missed the way you were practically chasing a high when the first feeling of him stretching you made you too horny and too eager.

He spoke through his moans. “Slow down you’re gonna–”

A lowly groan passed your lips and your eyes were squeezing as you tried to catch yourself. “It hurts,”

Qimir shouldn’t have laughed but he couldn’t help how clueless you were reduced to. You had the entire galaxy’s information running through your brain but your excitement made you throw intelligence out the window to chase the feeling that the thickness of his cock was giving. “You’re trying to take it so quickly. Slow down.”

You took his advice until you completely buried his shaft into you until it was gone with the only evidence being the bulge in your abdomen. You stayed like this just enough to get used to it.

“Qi–” you called for him but he already flipped over and knocked the wind out of you in the process.

The first time he pulled out felt disappointed until he snapped right back into you. His hips went back and pushed forward and your body bounced against it. First, it was slow. You gripped onto his shoulders as you were sure you’d probably lose your center of gravity if you didn’t.

“How does it feel?” he grunted.

“F-faster, please,” you gasped. “Please.”

Qimir picked up his speed instantly. The warm feeling of his member and the veins that adorned it hitting against your insides was accompanied by a symphony of skin hitting skin. Your hands gripped and tightened while your nails made crescent marks on his back. By some point, Qimirs hands latched around your neck for some false sense of support as he tried to hit every angle of your pussy. 

He drilled into you so relentlessly that you forgot how to breathe and just started hiccuping. It’s not even like you needed the air but Qimir knew you better than you did.

“Breath,” he was now chest to chest and speaking into your ear. “You’re gonna overheat if you don’t breathe.”

So you listened and threw your head back as you took all the bullying his thrusting was doing to you. For a brief moment, your eye caught the droid in the other room.

“I broke him down just for you and now look at you,” Qimir chuckled into your neck as he kissed your neck. 

He didn’t even let you spend enough time looking to feel bad because he took your face in his hands to have you look right into his eyes as the sweat from his body was mixing with the come oozing out of you.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” was the last thing he got to say before you felt your entire system malfunctioning. That’s the only way you could describe it as the cord in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until you finally snapped and your eyes briefly glowed white. 

“There you go,”  he said as you shook and squirted on him.

You melted into the couch as Qimir chanced his high and took one of your breasts into his mouth. He kept going until he was releasing strings of come into you and letting out the filthy moans muffled by your breast.

Your eyelids were heavy from exhaustion as your systems tried to calibrate and compensate for the sudden dropping temperatures. You could only feel Qimir caress your face as he spoke. 

“I think your database is overwhelmed. We’ll try more tomorrow.” 

You could hear the smile on his lips as you tightened your hold around his waist for comfort.

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[gabgabwrites]

LOVE ON THE LINE | Art Donaldson [part 2]

summary ⇝ your and Art’s relationship progresses in college where you two find yourself in love with one another, with many promises on the line and a ring on your finger, what is there to lose? One word: everything.

warnings ⇝ swearing, kissing, cheating/affair, children, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, gagging, blindfold, oral (F), cum eating, marking, clothed sex, allusion to car sex, mentions of Patrick x reader.

read part 1 here

note: this is messy relationship

You and Art Donaldson were finally official. The transition from friends to something more had been surprisingly smooth, marked by a moment of sweet vulnerability on your third date at the cinema.

It was there, amidst the flickering lights and the hushed whispers of other moviegoers, that Art shyly asked you to be his girlfriend. You had smiled warmly, feeling your own heart skip a beat as you agreed, watching the relief and joy wash over Art's face, turning him into a lovesick puppy right before your eyes.

Art couldn't seem to take his eyes off you after that. His blue eyes, speckled with hints of brown, became a constant presence, following your every move. Whether it was during lunch breaks on campus at Stanford or late-night study sessions in the library, his gaze was always on you. It was both thrilling and comforting to be the center of his attention, knowing that you had become someone incredibly special to him.

During those lunch breaks, Art would sit so close to you that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, sending gentle tingles across your skin. His presence was reassuring, anchoring you in a world that sometimes felt chaotic and uncertain. You cherished those quiet moments together, sharing sandwiches and conversations that ranged from silly jokes to deep dreams about the future.

Art wasn't just attentive; he was also surprisingly thoughtful. He remembered the little details about you—your favorite coffee order, the way you liked to organize your notes, and even your secret fondness for cheesy romantic comedies. He would surprise you with small gestures, like leaving a handwritten note in your textbook or bringing you a hot drink on chilly mornings before class. Each gesture made your heart swell with affection for him, knowing that he was investing time and effort into nurturing your relationship.

He'd sneak out from his dorm to go to yours, where you'd often find yourself with your lips locked together. Spit dribbling down your chin while you both pathetically ground your hips together in a feeble attempt to relinquish pleasure. Dark purple marks would litter his skin by the time you were done, and your thighs would stick together from your recent endeavours.

Of course there was Tashi, who had broken up with Patrick after finding out that he was unfaithful to her, the last they spoke was when she injured her knee. You remember being there, in the nurse's ward, fingers intertwined with Tashi's to comfort her after her knee had seriously sprained. Her quiet sniffles filled the room before Patrick Zweig had come barrelling in, pleading for Tashi's attention only to be shown the cold shoulder.

Tashi had changed, not only physically, her hair a little shorter and her face was more mature, but she lost her spark after the injury, one that guaranteed her to never touch a single racket no matter how hard she tried—in her eyes, her future was over.

She had always talked about tennis, but now she hyper fixated on it, she's constantly talk about your form and how you could approve, you always listened and took her advice, but that was it. You'd try to talk about other stuff, like how you were excited to meet Art's parents, or how you hated your physics professor, but alas, the main focus was tennis.

You had a game that afternoon, and of course, both Art and Tashi were there. Before, Art had snuck into the locker room, after making sure it was just you in there, before his arms were around you and his nose nudged yours. "Good luck," He told you, big smile etched on his face.

"I won't need it if you're here," You said back, grabbing the collar of his polo shirt and bringing his lips down onto yours. The kiss had to break when another girl walked in and shrieked, leaving Art flushed from embarrassment while you had to hide your smile.

The match itself was a blur of adrenaline and determination. As you stepped onto the court, you felt the weight of Art and Tashi's encouragement spurring you on. Their presence in the stands, cheering and clapping, fueled your determination to perform your best. You could see Art's animated gestures of support, his eyes never leaving you as you played.

Despite a few tense moments and fierce competition from your opponent, you emerged victorious. The rush of adrenaline was matched only by the pride in Art's eyes as he pulled you into a tight hug after the match. Tashi's smile, though more subdued, conveyed a deep sense of satisfaction and pride in your achievement.

Then one day, everything changed. It was probably one of the moments in your life where you felt the most hurt. There was a dramatic shift between you and Art in your relationship, he became distant and you became quiet. You had both agreed to end things, you remember the night you did, you sat in your room, sobbing. Tashi was put in a different dorm, so you had to drag yourself off your bed, cheeks wet with tears, and walk a few passages until you faced her dorm's door.

You knocked against it once, then twice, but no answer. You looked down to where light shone from the crack underneath the door, you could even see shadows dancing so there had to be someone in there. You knocked again, harder, yet still got ignored. You waded back to your dorm, face buried in your pillow as you cried some more.

Two months since that incident passed, things had improved. Tashi became more talkative to you, you hadn't told her about that night, and if she knew, she didn't bring it up.

Then there was Art, who one day came crawling back, begging for you to let him into your heart again. You knew you had to deny him. You knew it was what was right. You didn't believe in second chances, but for Art, you made an exception.

Things were still patchy between the two of you, you weren't back to square one but you weren't exactly back to how they used to be. You decided to ask him why he went distant and what he did during your time apart.

"School and tennis got the better of me," He said. "I was so so stupid to let that get in the way between us. It won't happen again," And he was right, he somehow managed to get everything sorted and execute his plans accordingly. He also told you that while on your 'break', he had practiced more tennis and studied. He told you he had to ask Tashi for advice.

Fast forward three years later, and life had taken a remarkable turn for both you and Art Donaldson. Graduating from college marked the beginning of a promising journey towards becoming world-renowned tennis players. The countless hours of practice, the sacrifices made, and the unwavering support for each other had culminated in you both achieving your dreams.

Art, with his infectious enthusiasm and competitive spirit, was your perfect match both on and off the court. His sense of humor and spontaneity kept life exciting, whether you were training together or exploring new cities during tournaments. As your careers soared, so did your relationship, growing stronger with each shared victory and overcoming every setback together.

Then, one magical evening at a lakeside restaurant, Art surprised you with a proposal that took your breath away. It was classic Art—cheesy yet endearing, thoughtful yet spontaneous. After a delightful dinner overlooking the serene lake, he suggested a walk and led you to a secluded dock adorned with candles and rose petals. With a heart full of love and nerves, he knelt down, producing the most stunning ring you had ever seen. The words spilled out earnestly, and you couldn't help but say yes, tears of joy glistening in your eyes.

From that moment on, everything seemed even more perfect. You ascended to become the women's champion in tennis, while Art mirrored your success on the men's side. Together, you became the U.S.'s elite power couple, celebrated not only for your athletic prowess but also for your genuine love and support for each other.

However, the pinnacle of your joy came on your wedding day—a day that felt surreal, like a dream wrapped in hues of love and anticipation. The venue was adorned with flowers, the air filled with music that resonated with your hearts. Walking down the aisle, emotions surged through you—a mix of excitement, nerves, and overwhelming happiness.

Art stood at the altar, his trademark grin stretching from ear to ear, his curly hair slightly tousled by the gentle breeze. His eyes, reflecting his deep affection for you, met yours as you approached him, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The exchange of vows was heartfelt and tender, promising a future filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support. As the ring slid onto your finger, sealing your union as Mr. and Mrs. Donaldson, you felt a rush of emotions—gratitude for finding your soulmate, excitement for the adventures ahead, and a profound sense of belonging in his arms.

The reception was a celebration of your love story, with friends and family cheering as you danced the night away. Each glance exchanged, each touch shared, spoke volumes of the bond you had forged through dedication, trust, and mutual admiration.

And the consummation of your marriage was on a whole new level.

You still wore your wedding dress, sitting on the small foot stool while Art's head ducked under the white skirt of your dress, his tongue trailing up the length of your thigh before meeting your lacy underwear. His tongue soaked your panties more than what they were, sucking on your clit that hardened with want.

His eyes rolled right back when your thighs closed around his skull, suffocating him. He used his strength and pried your legs apart. He worked skilfully to slip your panties off, now face to face with your arousal. Art thought how ethereal the scene in front of him looked. Your dewy pussy, dripping and throbbing, crowned by the one of a kind wedding dress.

You couldn't see Art, except for the mound where his head was. You watched as it dropped when Art connected his lips back to your pussy, making you grab the sides of your dress and bunch it up in your palms with pleasure. "You make me feel so good, Art."

That spurred him on. His fingers dug into the plush of your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds, spit and arousal coated the whole of his face from the tip of his nose down. He was on his knees, hips thrusting into nothingness, he got high off your pleasure.

Between your moans and grunts, you could hear the wet sounds of his spit and your pussy, and his whimpers and whines. His tongue would go from your needy hole to your throbbing clit. His suckled and lick, spit and slurp you up until his name fell from your lips, cumming on his tongue.

When he came out from under your skirt, his cheeks were flushed, his lips were saturated and bruised, his hair was messy and his face was shiny with slick. "Come here, my baby," You cooed, grabbing him by the tie and kissing his lips. There was nothing short of delicate. It was full of desire, passion and love.

Your makeup was already ruined by the time he started kissing you, so you didn't mind when it got messier. Mouths open, hot kisses and shared saliva. Art used his strength and picked you up, carrying you over to the bed where he placed you down, immediately pushing you backwards onto your back so he could cage you in.

Your fingers worked to undo his tie, placing that to the side of the bed before popping his shirt's buttons open, exposing his pale torso. His blazer had come off, and his belt was loose. Your hands went to his shoulders and pushed him to the side, forcing him to roll onto his back.

You wasted to time to straddle him, leaning forward to connect your lips once again. You gently took ahold of his hands, breaking the kiss, and leaning to the side to retreat his tie. "What are you doing?" He asked, voice rough with arousal. He watched you bring his two wrists together before looping the tie around. He got a sense of an idea, making his throat bob.

"I want to try something new, is that okay?" You asked, he eagerly nodded making you smile. This moment reminded you a lot of when you two first had sex, you reminisced about the moment as you gazed upon your lover. White collared shirt open, showing his muscular body, hands wrapped up in his tie, hair askew and the common blush on his cheeks.

Bending forward at the waist, you kissed him once again, except this time, confusion clouded Art's mind when he felt something material brush his cheek. In a split second, your lips left his before something was shoved into his mouth.

Art had no hands to take it out and struggled with his tongue to spit it out, blonde eyebrows drawn together in confusion while you sat up to look at him. "It's my underwear, Art."

'Oh,' He thought, it surprised him, yet the idea of having your panties that he previously ate you out through in his mouth turned him on even more. His saliva soaked the underwear, his teeth clamped down on the lace.

You moved down slightly, going to properly undo his belt before sliding his pants down, Art raising his hips to help you. You didn't bother with foreplay, freeing his hard cock, pink tip leaking already, twitching once exposed. It took a hot minute to move your dress up your waist, now bunched at your hips, using one hand, you positioned his cock at your entrance before looking up at Art.

"You ready for me to fuck you? For Mrs Donaldson to fuck her husband?" You asked, Art nodded, a muffled plea escaped his lips, turning into a moan when you sunk down on his length. He watched you bite your lip, your hands on his ribs before he felt you slip off, then sink on him again.

Art choked on your panties when he moaned, so he opted to close his mouth around them and suck on the fabric, trying to taste you. Heavy pants and whimpers came from breaths our his nose. Your painted lips, smudged and blotchy fell open.

Art felt a desire, he raised his tied hands and managed to stick out a finger, bringing it to your lips. He watched your lips close around his fingertip before softly sucking away.

You snaked a hand to where you two met, and pressed your finger on your clit. Your wrist jerker from side to side, making you feel like hot lava was boiling in your tummy, this pleasure had you biting down on Art's finger, making him softly whine out in pain.

You don't know why you came as quickly as you did, gushing around Art's cock as you orgasmed for the second time. The feeling of you unravel had Art cumming just as fast, spilling his hot seed deep inside you.

Your hips slowed, taking a minute to lift your hips, his soft cock falling out. With a heavy sigh, you lay next to him, brushing his sweaty curls away, his eyes trained on yours, chest heaving. With a soft chuckle, you brought your fingers to his lips and pulled your panties out, coated in his saliva. "A little help here, please?" He raised his hands to you, allowing for you to undo his tie.

It caught you by surprise when you felt him grip the tie, now hands free, before snatching it out of your grasp. He scraped up some strength, on wobbly legs and got off the bed. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed, his strong hands found your ankles and yanked them, pulling your hips against his.

He climbed on top of the bed again, tie in hand. "You do a lot for me, so I want to do this for you," He told you softly, face hovering over yours. There was a pause, Art staring deep into your eyes, before he swallowed. "I've been think about you, about us, and I want to start a family."

"Yeah?" Your heart swelled in your chest, you felt your cheeks burn at the thought, that Art did not only see you as a wife, but a mother to his future children. "I'd really like that too."

Art smiled down at you. He didn't say anything, instead just maintaining eye contact. You could see the emotions behind his blue eyes, he had a much love and admiration for you, that it was overflowing. "So you trust me, right?"

"More than anything," You watched Art nod, before your vision went black. Art was tying his tie around your eyes, taking away your vision.

You felt him lift your one leg, his lips on your ankle as he placed soft kisses on the skin there before it was placed on his shoulder. Your dress was moved up again, exposing you to him.

Art could feel himself harden again. He took his cock into his hand and pumped it until it was fully erect. His pink tip nudged at your folds before he spoke up. "I love you," he said, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

He watched your lips part, exposing your teeth in a smile. "I love you too, Art."

Art waited for any hesitation before releasing his breath, pushing himself into you. He watched your pussy swallow him again before he began to thrust his hips. The both of you were already so sensitive, Art gripped your leg for support, his eyes caught sight of his ring that reflected the light.

His teeth grazed your calf, goosebumps rose in its path. Having one sense taken away had increased the others. Not being able to see Art made this ever the more arousing. "Mm, you're so good to me," Art moaned.

"You're the one that's...fucking me," You said with a choked chuckle, words being swallowed by your moans. "Oh g-god, you fuck me so good," Art bit his lip, already on the verge of another orgasm. He let his one hand find yours, holding the hand that had your ring on it, diamond shining brightly.

His thumb rubbed the shiny stone, a truckload of unspoken promises guaranteed by the small diamond. Art couldn't wait for you two to move into a luxurious apartment and have a family, have a creation of both your undying love for each other run around and call you 'mommy' and 'daddy'. He couldn't wait to grow old with you, watch your child grow up and start a family of their own.

He'd wait lifetimes for you in the heavens and stars if it meant your souls could spend every waking moment together. You were his, and he was yours.

"Ah, fuck Art! 'm cumming!" You mewled. Cum flooding from you like a broken dam wall. Art wasn't far behind, his arousal mingling with yours for the nth time. Your name fell from his lips.

He slipped out to help clean you up, undoing the tie around your eyes, carrying you to the bathroom—albeit on wobbly legs, and run you a bath.

That was six years ago. Now the two of you lived in a fancy apartment. Your wedding ring sparkled under the bright chandelier as you stirred your cup of coffee. You had four mugs lined together. Once all drinks were made, you set them on the table.

You walked around to your room to find your husband sitting on the bed, book open. "Your coffee's ready," You told him, he looked up from the book and gave you a curt smile and nod.

Art had changed over the years, his youth had faded and how replaced with mature features. His hair was shorter now, not having his luscious curls you loved. Scars littered his body where he had to have stitches from tennis related injuries.

You walked out of Art's room and down the passage, stepping into another bedroom. "Your hot chocolates are ready," you told the two five-year-olds. They both turned to you with happiness before bouncing past you.

"Thank you, Mommy," your little girl, Mila, said, bringing the pink mug to her lips and slurping away. She then slammed the mug down and whipped her head toward her brother, pigtails flying as she did. "Say thank you."

"I was gonna!" Zachary, your son and twin brother to Mila, retorted. His eyes found yours, his heterochromia always catching you off guard: his left eye brown, and his right blue. "Thank you, Momma."

"It's only a pleasure," you smiled at the twins, watching them drink away. You felt a warm arm wrap around your shoulders before a pair of lips were placed on your temple.

"Thank you, my love," Art mumbled against your hair before he too picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. You picked yours up and brought it to your lips, savoring the warmth and the rare quiet moment in your bustling household.

"I'm going to meet up with Tashi later for lunch, m'kay?" you told your husband, who nodded.

"When can we see Auntie Tashi again?" Mila asked, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

"Maybe on Sunday, remember Daddy has a match on Saturday," you replied, glancing at Art, who smiled back at you.

"We'll make time for a visit soon, sweetheart," Art reassured Mila, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I know you both love spending time with Auntie Tashi," The kids finished their hot chocolates, and you helped them clean up before they dashed off to play with their toys. You and Art stood in the kitchen, enjoying the rare moment of peace and sipping your drinks.

Three days had passed, it was not nearing evening. Art had a fan meet-and-greet to attend, which would only end in an hour and a half's time.

You had just dropped off the twins at your mom's for Friday night like you always did. You stood in the lobby of your apartment, waiting for the lift when a voice called your name.

Your eyes widened in surprise once you turned to see who called you. "Patrick?" You hadn't seen them man in years. Last you saw him was when you were still in school. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for dinner," He smiled sheepishly, pointing to some brunette woman who was staring at the two of you, when making eye contact, she was quick to look the other way. "Uh, congratulations by the way," He pointed towards your wedding band, making you cross your arms.

"Thank you, Zweig. If this is all, goodnight," You spun on your heel, only to have your arm grabbed and yourself pulled back. "Hey!"

"Wait, can we talk. Please?"

"There's nothing to talk about Patrick. Last I heard from you was me telling you to 'fuck off' after breaking Tashi's heart," You snapped.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry for how things turned out. It's just... there's something you have to know." Patrick's eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes held a sincerity that made your heart pound. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Where's Art?"

"At a fan meet-up," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"He's not," Patrick said firmly, making you scoff and shake your head. "I promise you, he's not. And I can tell you exactly where he is."

"Oh yeah? Then where is he, Patrick? If you know my husband so well," you challenged, crossing your arms defensively.

Patrick chewed on his bottom lip, choosing his next words very carefully. "He's cheating on you, right now, with Tashi."

“And you expect me to believe you?” You scoffed. “I mean, I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t think you’d stop this low and—.”

“I swear I’m not lying,” He interjected. “I heard about this fan meet-up and it’s not until Sunday.” He told you, making you shake your head. “Remember that time when the two of you broke up? And he told you he was getting training from Tashi? That was bullshit, Art’s tennis playing is goddamn near perfect, instead be went to her and found his way between her legs.”

“Y-You’re making this all up,” You denied, you didn’t want to believe your fairytale ending was all receipt. “I’ll call him right now even.”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t answer, he’s probably too busy sucking off Tashi’s face. The two haven’t said anything because they felt bad. Things were awkward between the three of you, am I right? Art realised how much he messed up and went back to you, only to do the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your phone from your purse before punching in Art’s number. You pressed the metal device to your ear and waited. It rung, and rung, and rung, before a beep was heard. ‘You have reached the voice mail of Art Donaldson, please leave a—.’

You sucked your teeth before slamming the phone shut. “He’s probably busy.”

“Yeah, making out with your best friend.”

“And how do you expect to be actually believe you?”

“I’ve known Art since we were 12, he may seem all cute and cuddly, but trust me, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Patrick watched as your bottom lip wobbled a smidge before you took it between your teeth. “You have to believe me.”

“Where’s the evidence?” You asked him. Patrick sighed before shaking his head. You watched as he retrieved a small piece of paper and a broken pencil from his pocket before scribbling on it.

“My number, if you ever want to talk,” He sighed, passing you the paper. “Goodnight,” with that, he turned around and walked back to his date, leaving you alone and confused.

That night, you lay in bed while Art was coming out from the bathroom. You wanted to ask him if he was actually at a fan meet-and-greet, or if he was out, having an affair. You laughed quietly to yourself, imagine how embarrassing it would be if you accused him of cheating and it all being fake, how bad you’d look, how you’d raise suspicion.

Art climbed in the bed next to you, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your cheek, arm pulling you into him. “I love you,” He said, moving back to stare at you with twinkling blue eyes before smiling and leaning back to rest his head on the pillow.

You could not bring yourself to echo his words, heart breaking in your chest as your eyes bore into the purple and red mark on his neck, it looked fresh and raw. It definitely wasn’t you, you and Art hadn’t bad sex in over two months.

You just nodded to yourself, turning your head to blink back tears. “I know.”

Art went silent at your choice of words, letting out a sigh before turning around, switching off his bedside lamp and falling asleep.

You did the same, except you could not fall asleep. There was no way, no fucking way. Where had it gone wrong? Why did it go wrong? Were you not good enough? How long had this been going on for? All these questions swarmed your mind.

You lay restlessly before sighing, sitting up and grabbing your phone. Quietly you got out of bed and out the room where you grabbed a long coat and slippers, putting them on. You found the small piece of paper and dialled the number on there.

So that’s how you found yourself in Patrick’s car by some cheap gas station. Tears staining your cheeks while Patrick watched you solemnly. “Tell me how you found out about all this, and I didn’t?” You asked him.

“Tashi told me, we had met up after the first time they… and she confessed. She told me how bad she felt, but also told me she couldn’t bear to tell you. Um, Tashi and I have been meeting up, if you know what I mean, she told me how she planned to meet Art this evening, when I asked why, she kept quiet.”

You let out a broken sigh. “Okay Patrick, now what?” You turned to him. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to, it’s just…you two seemed so happy—.”

“So you didn’t want to ruin it? Thanks, Patrick. No really. But I think I better get going,” You shook your head, going to undo your seatbelt before a hand on yours stopped you.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know how to help,” Suddenly his breath of on your ear. You dare not move to look. “This won’t hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.”

“I’m not a cheater, Patrick,” You whispered out.

“No, but you’re petty,” His words caused you to let out a breathy laugh. “You like to get even, it feels right,” His hand found its way on your thigh, a grin spreading on his lips when you didn’t stop him. “I’ll help you get even.”

Call yourself a monster and a heartless bitch for turning to face Patrick, smashing your lips on his. His hand unbuckling your seat belt, allowing for you to slide onto his lap, hands groping you everywhere. “Help me forget, Patrick,” You moaned against his lips.

“I will, baby. I will,” And he did. Any thoughts of Art and Tashi melted away faster and faster as you lost more items of clothing.

The sun beat down on your shoulders the following day, your head would love to and fro, eyes trained on the green ball that whizzed between Patrick and Art in the final match of the whole tournament. Patrick was winning, some on his own and some penalty points.

Sweat dripped down your husband’s face, he licked his lips to ridden the salty liquid. Patrick was much the same. When he felt you looked, he smirked, making you scoff and look away. You watched the clock tick by before it was half time, Art dipping his shirt off as he sat down, taking out his bottle while Patrick ate on a banana.

When the game resumed, Patrick was first to serve. His racket swung above his head, he adjusted his grip before he stalled.

You watched his brown eyes flicker to you, the corner of his lips rose, before his eyes went back to Art. He dropped his hand, kicking his left leg out a little before holding his racket and waist height, other hand holding the ball, placed the ball by the throat of the racket.

You turned to look at Art, after noticing that’s how he holds a racket. You watched his eyes move to you and his expression fall. A distant look in his eye. Patrick served the ball and it went straight past Art, who didn’t bother to hit it.

You seemed puzzled by this, watching Art’s head drop before he got a ball from the ball-boy. Like a switch, Art was playing ferociously, now winning every serve he had.

You watched with amazement as Art let out a roar, jumping high into the air, foot touching the net as he won an ace before he came tumbling into Patrick’s arms, both males bursting into smiles.

What had just happened?

[ellieslittlewh0re]

╰┈➤ 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - you and ellie have been dating for a few months. everything is great- perfect even, but you two haven’t had sex yet… ellie is always telling you to take your time, there’s no rush- but you’re finally ready, and ellie is going to give you the proper experience.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 - this is v self indulgent lol, fluff, canon jackson ellie behavior, smut, MINORS DNI

Her hands were chill to the touch, and rough against the skin of your thigh, but you didn't mind.

It had been 3 months since you started dating Jackson's designated "it" girl, and by "it" girl- that really means that everyone seems to be a little scared of her for one reason or another. Maybe it was because her face screamed "don't fucking talk to me".

That didn't stop you though. 

You had your eyes on her since you arrived through those gates- baby faced and painfully ignorant to Jackson's way of living. It was scary- terrifying even. You weren't sure if you could ever get used to it, but with time and the loving care you had received from the community, it slowly became your normal, and Ellie became your main focus.

"Babe, you're not paying attention to the movie." Ellie huffed, annoyed that you weren't as invested in the film as she was- it was one of her favorites after all.

Little does she know, you were too busy thinking about her, and how far you've come to get to this point.

You giggled, sinking further into her on the bed of her detached garage/home. You wrapped both your arms around her bicep, smiling as you place a kiss on the apple of her cheek, "m' sorry Els, guess I was just distracted." You shrugged, not really expecting her to understand.

But she did understand- painfully so. She may not be good at showing it, but when she saw you that day- day fucking one of you showing up in Jackson- she knew that you would make things that much harder for her. And of fucking course it was her luck that you got paired with her during your first outing of patrol.

Seeing you up close- that sparkle in your eye and the way you laughed so freely like the world wasn't actively ending... it did something to her, something she couldn't explain. Her thoughts were consumed of you- wether it was a glimpse of you she stole earlier in the day or her imagination running wild when she too pent up to sleep.

Now, she doesn't have to imagine it. It was real- YOU were real, and you were hers.

"Distracted? How can you be distracted when there's dinosaurs on the tv?" She asked perplexed, throwing her hand up motioning to the not-so-great looking cgi creatures.

Tension between you two had been rising exponentially high these past few weeks. Even though you have been dating for a while, you two hadn't had sex yet, and that was because of you.

It's not like you didn't want to or you hadn't thought about it, but you were still a virgin, and Ellie always made it clear that it's on your terms- no one else's.

But your birthday just passed, and Ellie made sure you had the best day- making you breakfast, taking you to her super secret spot down by the lake that she guaranteed only the "coolest" people knew about, and you wanted to show your gratitude and appreciation for her- plus the urges whenever you were around her were growing harder to ignore.

Your stomach fluttered, feeling the heat from her body pressed against yours, her hand that never seemed to want to leave your thigh- it felt like the right moment.

You slightly lift yourself off the bed, swinging your leg over her hips as gracefully as you could so you could straddle her. Ellie holds her hands up, not touching you because she was genuinely surprised by your actions. She lets out a chuckle, thinking you were in one of your moods where'd you'd hold her down and borderline torture her with your ruthless tickle attacks, but instead- you leaned in, ghosting your lips over her neck before placing kisses to the skin below her ear.

Ellie's hands move from your hips to the plush of your ass, squeezing the flesh gently in her hands, "oh yeah? Is this is what we're doing now?" She let out a breathy chuckle, tilting her head to the side to give you more access.

"Mmhm." You muffled a response into neck before sucking lightly, pulsing the skin between your lips like how she had done to you so many times before.

Ellie's eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the hot, wet sensation of your mouth on her. Her fingers tightened on your ass, body shifting slightly underneath you because her boxers suddenly felt way too fucking tight.

"Fuck- do you have any idea what you do to me?" She almost confesses, biting down on her bottom lip enough to leave a metallic taste on her tongue.

"I'm not doing anything, just kissing ya." You act innocent, but in your defense you really didn't know what you were doing, but you could tell it was doing something to her by the way her hands grabbed more harshly at your hips and sides, littering your skin with crescent indents everywhere her fingers went.

As hard as Ellie was trying to be patient with you, she was slowly losing control. Mentally, she was punching her head- knocking some morals back into her brain, but fuck-

Your teeth grazed her skin, sending goosebumps down her limbs, "I wanna do it, Els... m'ready."

You pull away, cheeks flushed and lips even more so- batting your eyelashes, and embarrassed out of your mind because you weren't sure how dumb you sounded to your more experienced girlfriend.

But Ellie doesn't think that you sound dumb- instead, she's kicking her feet inside her head, jumping around in a field of wildflowers because you trusted her enough to give yourself over to her at your most vulnerable.

"Babe, are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have-" Ellie rambles, and honestly, it's quite cute. She was trying so hard to be the good girlfriend, but it didn't matter because you were already cutting her off mid sentence with your finger pressed against her lips, "m'sure" you nod your head in assurance before leaning forward to kiss her lips.

She smiled into the kiss as her tongue slipped inside, her arms wrapping around the the smallest part of your waist to pull you closer to her.

She molded herself into you- or maybe you molded yourself to her- just two bodies holding each other, touching skin, and tasting. You've always loved the way she tasted- the way she smelled when she was this close. It was sweet like honeysuckle and wild berries on the vine when the sun was at its highest in the sky.

Ellie's hands came between you two, snaking underneath the leg of your shorts to squeeze the skin. A moan slips passed your lips and into Ellie's mouth, causing her to chuckle into the kiss, "someone's excited."

"Ellieee~" you pouted, shoving your hands between your legs because you felt weird- a bubbling sensation in your lower stomach, waves

of hot and cold pulsating up and down your body,

"oh, I'm sorry baby, did I embarrass you?"

You nodded shyly, swirling your hips on her lap without notice.

Ellie fakes a sympathetic pout, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "you poor thing," she said with not a hint of sympathy- instead, dripping with malice.

Ellie wasn't doing it on purpose though, she could never. She was going to savor this moment- the moment right before the storm until it was long past, forgotten between bare skin, linen sheets, and her senses filled with you.

Her hands hold your face, stroking her thumb over the apple of your cheek, pulling you into to her to kiss you. It was slow, deep- the kind of kiss that felt like a goodbye.

You moan into it, arching your back under her touch, mind fuzzy because all you could focus on was getting friction in any way you could, "el-ellie, please." You begged in your sweet, shaky tone that drove her fucking crazy no matter how many times she heard it after a make out session went a little too far.

Ellie's jaw clenches slightly, fisting the sheets beside your knees because she was painfully horny, but tried her best to hide it in front of you. She couldn't bare the embarrassment if you knew all the little things that you did that made her like this- your voice, the way you smelled or even the way you looked at her sometimes. All of it would engrave itself into Ellie's mind, replaying over and over which would slowly shift to all the things she'd want to do to you- wether it'd be something simple like kissing parts of your body that she had never seen before, and the more sinful desires of hers which mostly consisted of your face buried into a pillow, ass high in the air as she uses your hips as handlebars, driving her cock deep inside your dripping cunt-

Yeah, she'd definitely take those secrets to the grave if she could help it...

Her hand travel up your back before her fingers intertwine with your hair, squeezing close to the scalp- not hard, but hard enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Ellie's eyes gleamed with something evil as she relished in the sight on top of her- your half hooded eyes that screamed 'fuck me', your mouth slightly ajar as short quickened breaths escape them.

She used her grip in your hair to pull you in once more, clashing her lips against yours. Your teeth would occasionally bump against hers, but it didn't slow her down.

Things quickly escalated, her hands wrapping around the underside of your thighs as she turned both of you over- leaving you beneath her. Her mouth never left yours as her hand slipped underneath your thin cotton shirt, gently but urgently feeling the plush of your tummy before palming your breast.

You whimper at the sensation of her calloused fingers brushing over your hardened peak- your back arching off the mattress to get closer to her.

She breaks the kiss panting as she lowers to your ear, her warm breath dancing off your skin, "can I take it off?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice to remain steady. She trails kisses along your jaw before sitting up, grabbing the hem of your shirt. You sit up as the fabric is dragged over your back and over your head, leaving your chest on display.

"Fuck-" Ellie breaths out, her eyes twinkling in the warm glow from the bedside lamp, "you're beautiful- so fuckin’ beautiful.." she leans in again for a kiss, but your put your hands to her chest to stop her, "what about you?.. can I see?"

Ellie smirked, flashing a hint of her teeth, "dyin' to catch a glimpse, huh?"

Yes, oh my god, absolutely you were. You can't help feel a little embarrassed by the fact that your girlfriend indirectly called you a pervert, but if your a perv, what does that make her?

Ellie crosses her hands at the bottom of her hoodie, lifting it over her torso and head in one swift motion. You ogle at her toned stomach, slim waist, and prominent v lines that lead your eyes further down.

"This up to your standards?" She quipped, placing her hands on either side of your head.

"Mmm-" you think out loud, tilting your head to the side, "what about this?" You slip a finger into the underside of her sport bra, running it along the hem.

She raises an eyebrow skeptically as you bat your doe eyes at her, "s' only fair." You added, using your sickly sweet voice that made her obey your every command.

She groaned, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks told a different story- bright red and full from the smile she couldn't shake.

She sits back up, removing the article of clothing before coming back down, "happy?"

You nodded your head enthusiastically, wrapping your arms around her to feel her back. Your hands caress the skin- free of the distractions of clothes- from her shoulder blades, spine, and the curve of every muscle- you take your time to familiarize yourself with it all.

She kissed you, holding your face in one hand as the other propped herself up. It was slow, sweet and full of love, but also impatiently brutish- full of desire.

Her lips trialed down, kissing your chin, down your neck and collarbones, and scattering them over the delicate skin- leaving a trail to find her way back home to your lips.

"What about this?" She asked quietly, her breath brushing against the skin above your waistband.

You met her eyes and nod, quickly throwing your head back against the pillow because you were too embarrassed to make eye contact with her as she starts to tug down your shorts.

You lift your hips up, allowing her to drag the fabric down your legs- tossing your shorts to the side as it reaches your ankles.

"Huh-" Ellie scoffed to herself which caught your attention, "what?" You asked all worried something was wrong.

"You do this yourself?" She raised an eyebrow- the corner of her lips tugging up into a lopsided smirk as her fingers brush over the pink embroidered heart in the middle of your panties.

"Oh my god-" you whined as you cover your face in your hands, but Ellie couldn't find it more endearing.

It got her going honestly- how pure, innocent, and untainted you were- knowing that no one has ever seen or touched you like this.

She shimmied lower on the bed, positioning herself between your legs- eye level with your clothed covered cunt. She kissed your inner thighs, her tongue trialing over the skin so delicately.

You close your eyes, toes curling inside of your socks as you focus on her touch. It was hot- burning almost, and it felt magnified. Every pore, hair, and fiber was reacting to her.

Her warm breathed brushed against you as she tugged your panties to the side so it only covered your center, sucking your outer lips- pulling the skin back and letting it fall back into place with a soft *plop*.

She fisted the fabric between her fingers, letting it fold into you as she pulled it upwards- letting it grind against your clit. As soft wine emits from you as you start to squirm, letting your knees drift further apart.

Ellie isn't done teasing you. She loved getting you all worked up over something so small- it's not like it was hard.

Next, she smooths your panties over your puffy cunt, palming it roughly with the base of her wrist bumping your bud as she locked her eyes into your face- watching your eyebrows pinch in aroused frustration, your bottom lip sinking between your teeth. "El-Ellie, please." You barely make out, almost like a dogs beloved toy- airy and only faintly squeaky. "Mm-? What is it? Use your words, baby- I need words." She mocked in her annoyingly cocky tone as she kissed the center of your soaked panties, tasting you through the cotton.

You hiccup- finding the strength to talk, "I need- mmhm.. need your tongue, Els." Your bottom lip pouty and glistening from your spit as you look down at her with begging eyes. Ellie chuckled into your center, sending a vibration through core, "see? That wasn't so hard." Again with the cocky remarks, but really it was just a cover to hide how fucking eager she was.

You lift your hips as her fingers laced into the hem of your underwear, pulling them down to to reveal you in you're most natural form. Her hands quickly found shelter on top of your thighs, hooking her arms underneath your legs to secure you further. You were locked in tight- no one was getting in or out like a panic room or a sealed vault.. not unless Ellie says otherwise. The tip of her tongue tempted a tease- feathering delicate swipes over your glistening folds, but once she had a a taste, there was no point to holding back. She was instantly hooked on the tangy taste mixed with a sweet cider- hooked on no matter how wet you already were, your slick only seemed to keep coming like a never ending supply. "All for her" she thought, and she's not one to let something go to waste.

You fisted the sheets by your side, threatening to close your thighs around her head but she forced them open- her fingers tugging apart the skin on thighs to spread you open further. "this all for me, huh?- " She heaved between the laps of her tongue before flexing the muscle and sinking into your cunt. You cry out as your nails sink into the inked lines of her forearm. Ellie must have liked this reaction, but she wanted more, "answer me, baby." She commanded in a tone that you've only ever heard her use when she was being dead serious. It startled you a little so you meet her eyes with your glossy ones, giving her a nod. 

She chuckled lowly, a deep rattle coming from her chest as she brought her hand down, running a finger through your glossy mixture, "say it-" she sunk her finger into you, but not enough to make you feel full. You wine in frustration, a tear spilling over the full of your cheek, "f-for you.. mmph- 's all for you, ellie-"

The air inside your lungs gets cut off as her finger plunged into you, slipping it out only to repeat.

She takes her time- relishing in the sounds of your sopping cunt sucking her back in, and the soft moans that danced off your tongue.

Her mouth latched back onto your neglected bud as she continued to stretch you out- curling her finger inside before she added a second one, "so good, baby.. - fuck.. such a good fuckin' girl." She panted- more liked chanted praises, but not really directed at anyone in particular- more like she was drunk off you- delirious, and wide eyed like making you cum was the only thing she was put on this earth to do.

A pressure was building inside your tummy, and if she kept going- it had nowhere else to go. "El... feels- feels weird.." you choke between each thrust, your voice shaky as it got caught in your throat. Ellie flicks her tongue over your swollen, clit "it's okay, baby. I got you" she cooed, using her free hand to press on the back of your thigh so your knee bounced off your chest with each thrust. But this time- it reached deeper, hitting against your spongy core harder than before. She suctioned your clit between her lips, letting it go as she pulled back.

She sat up, never faltering her pace inside you as you ass bounced against her crotch with each blow she gave you.

You marvel at her- even though her chest was exposed, the position of her towering over you, her crotch lined up with your entrance as you became mush underneath her- you can't help but feel a power dynamic was at play.

You tense under her, your limbs and stomach tightening as you come undone around her fingers. She fucked you through it, whispering sweet praises of "good girl- you're doing so good, baby... such a pretty little thing "

She slow to exit you, knowing your sensitive right now. She leans over you, placing her hands either side of your head to plant a simple kiss to your lips before she leaves to the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth that was damp with warm water. She sits back down with your legs over hers, carefully cleaning you up. When she's done, she helps you get dressed- dressing you in her t-shirt and her comfiest pair of boxers.

Your head instantly finds sanctuary on her chest as soon as she joins you in the bed. She holds you close, placing a kiss to the top of your head- not bothering to continue the movie, just laying together in the silence that was occasionally broken up between hums and soft breathing.

Her fingers dance over the bare skin of your upper arm, resting her chin into of your head, "well-" she chuckles, "was it everything you hoped for?"

You looked up at her, stretching your neck to peck her lips before nuzzling into her, "no, it was more."

☆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @machetegirl109

[homiesexuallaj]

Hands

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, nondescript smut, hands, possible hand kink, possible hand fetish

Request: A piece about Eric Draven’s hands

A/N: For @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler !! I also used one of their gifs from their gifset.

———

Eric is so gentle with his hands. He always has been, no matter the situation.

He’s handsy too. He loves to be touching you at all times, no matter what’s going on. If you’re out and about, he’s either asked you to wrap a hand around his bicep or hold his hand. Or when he’s guiding you somewhere, there’s always a hand on your lower back.

When you’re out at a bar or in a club dancing, he’s always got his hands on you. He’s either in front of you and holding your hands while you mirror each other’s dance moves or got his hands on your hips while you both sway to whatever beat is on. When he’s behind you, there’s a guarantee he’s either hugged himself around your waist or crowding into your personal space with arms wrapped all around you and a head on your shoulder.

Eric never doesn’t not have his hands on you.

When you’re alone and domestic, you’re never not within arms reach, if Eric even lets you sit away that far. When you’re relaxing in bed or on the couch, Eric is swirling patterns into your skin with his fingertips or following the curves and dips of your skin. When it’s your turn to make dinner, Eric likes to watch with either a hand on your lower back or hugging himself into you from behind. Or when Eric is playing piano, he insists that you’re sitting and pressed up beside him. There’s no way you’re in the way of his playing. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.

When you’re in bed, it really shows how gentle Eric is.

Eric loves to grope and grab. He’s not one to slap or leave bruises or throw you around. He loves to help you get in position though. And his hands are always touching you, all over. He covers as much area as he can in the moment.

The man never pressed to hard or tugged to harsh, just enough to make it feel good. He only ever grabs hard enough to leave temporary indents in your flesh, something that’ll last for a few minutes at the least.

Whenever or wherever Eric is trailing kisses, his hands aren’t far behind. They always smooth down goosebumps or grab at any excess flesh.

When the deed is done with, Eric insists that you lay on chest bare chest. Both of your bare bodies are pressed into each other. Your hand traces over the black ink that’s etched into his skin and his trace shapes and swirls into yours.

Eventually, Eric ends up lulling you to sleep with his hands. And he rubs you back until Eric is off to dreamland himself.

———

A/N: The request v v

[sc0tters]

Misconceptions and Confrontations | Jack Hughes

summary: you and Jack had never gotten on with each other but as Quinn’s best friend you were always at the lake house. So what happens when Jack thinks that there is something going on with you and Trevor?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of y/n once.

word count: 2.7k

authors note: I came up with this idea at like 3 in the morning so that’s when half of it was written. I wasn’t even halfway through writing this when someone requested a different Jack smut but I liked this way too much to delete it. So there’s another one coming soon!

pt 2 | pt 3

You wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth.

Jack had practically been your archenemy since you were seven and he was six. It was that moment that he yanked at your pigtail pulling you off of the swing on the playset that you two were destined to never get along.

Funnily enough it was that same moment when Quinn helped you up that set you two on the path to being best friends.

Now Jack was 22 and you were 23 and neither one of you seemed to have any intentions on beginning to like each other any time soon.

Your relationship didn't improve when you went off to college and he went off to the development team, in fact, it seemed that now Jack only getting the time you spent together during the summers his attempts at irritating you increased tenfold.

You didn't know how a family as amazing as the Hughes' could land up with the devils spawn as a child especially when the other two were good normal people. But nevertheless you always had to remain civil with the boy for the sake of your relationship with Quinn and for your mother's relationship with Ellen.

The two moms swore three years into their eldest children's friendship that the duo would get together. It took two months after the swing incident for you two to be practically attached by the hip. Everyone just assumed that Jack had a crush on you and that's why he was acting in that way to you, the real truth though was that he simply enjoyed pissing you off.

He loved the way he was almost always guaranteed a reaction from you, even if it was the smirk that you'd send him as you would watch Quinn shut his bedroom door in his brothers face.

The Hughes family lake house was the only place you willingly went each year even when you knew that Jack was going to be there too.

This year however and much to Jacks dismay you found yourself flirting with Trevor on more than one occasion.

Trevor had been notorious for flirting with you at the house throughout the years, but this was the first that you weren't telling him to find someone interested. He was dedicated you had to give him that much.

Jack used to love watching as you would turn him down but now he was just trying to refrain from letting the contents of his stomach from coming out of his mouth each time he would catch you two. At the start of the first week it was simple hand touching, you would run your fingers along a part of the Ducks players body. But now you were sitting on his lap and had even gone as far as feed him some watermelon at one point.

As childish as it may have sounded the boy wished that his brother would step in and separate them. Jack was surprised that Quinn was so calm at the cozy sight of you and Trevor.

Little did Jack know, the only reason why Quinn was so relaxed about it all was that he really didn't care who you dated. Sure he wanted him to be a good guy, and knowing where Trevor lived made it a lot easier if he ever needed to hurt him for hurting you.

The Devils player had been so caught up in his annoyance for what was going on the he didn't even realise that the one day when he walked past the room you were in and he heard the sounds of your moans Jack thought you were with his best friend. But if he had stayed in that hallway for a second or two longer, he would have realised that you were alone and it was your hand that was getting you off.

The final night at the lake house had quickly come upon the group and to celebrate you guys used Jack and Quinn's lake house to throw a party.

The event had been a total success, drinks were pouring, people were singing, even Quinn was dancing at one point in the night. But one thing you always noticed was the way that Jack just glared at Trevor. Even when the prettiest girl at the lake tried to talk to the middle Hughes boy his eyes didn't move.

You thought that it was childish from the devils player, somehow he had been able to avoid saying a single word to you the entire night yet he still managed to get under your skin.

So when Jack made his way upstairs presumably to the bathroom you followed wanting to give him a talking to "I'll be right back," you mumbled squeezing Trevor's thigh as you left your space on the couch on the tail of the forward.

The bathroom door almost shut but you were able to get you hand in the way of it "what the hell is your problem?" You asked clearly letting the alcohol that was in your system cloud your judgement.

Jacks eyes went wide as he looked at you "you're the one who walked in on me," he reminded her feeling like he wasn't the person who should have been receiving questions.

You grumbled something incoherent under your breath "you keep on glaring at Z when he's done nothing wrong!" You yelled at the younger boy as you shut the bathroom door behind you, making sure to lock it in the process.

You didn't want him to leave before the conversation ended "you're the one who's sleeping with him." The hockey player shot back as he began to pee not caring that you were still there.

If there had been about four shots less of vodka in your system maybe you would have left "I'm not sleeping with him," you furrowed your eyebrows at the accusation wondering where it could have possibly came from.

That announcement both made Jack feel lighter but also like he wanted to shove his head in the sand "you were the one I heard walk past!" You let out a gasp as he washed his hands.

The devils player had never been soft footed "you heard me?" He asked letting the soft fabric of the towel dry his hands.

You snickered to yourself as you leaned against the door "should have known it was you," your voice was soft as you shook your head "if it was Z he would have done something about it." The jab at him made him quickly close any distance between you two.

He pressed his lips into a fine line "Trevor is an action man, you aren't." You shrugged as you locked eyes with him seeing how his scowl hardened honestly made your knees buckle.

You knew that when you woke up in the next morning anything that happened from this moment on, you were blaming on the alcohol.

Jack ignored the alarm bells that rang in his head as his mouth watered at the sight of your lips "yeah I am," he pouted almost hurt by your statement.

It was this specific moment that you crossed the point of no return "prove it." And with those seven letters his lips were on yours, tongues clashed in a messy fight that against was going to be blamed on the alcohol.

He tapped your leg motioning for you to jump as he hooked his hands under your legs before he took you to the counter and let you sit in it "love this dress." He confessed as his hands ran up your thighs going dangerously close to your core.

You let out a moan as your stomach felt on fire “do something already.” You complained as your pulled away from him wanting to clench your legs together at the view of his now swollen lower lip.

Jack smirked as he ran his fingers through your hair “patience is a virtue sweetheart,” he repeated one of your favourite lines that you used to tell him when he would rush you to get out of the bathroom at the lake house.

Furrowing your eyebrows you sent him a glare “I’m sure Z would be happy to fu-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jack shoved two of his fingers into your mouth “suck,” he groaned at the sight of your lips wrapping around the two digits practically treating it like you were sucking a dick.

So you let your tongue swirl around the fingers as you contemplated all of your actions. But before you could continue his fingers were pulling from your mouth “fuck,” fell from his lips as he watched the trail of saliva break and land on your breasts.

The hockey player placed his other hand on your cheek “got warm you up for my cock okay?” When your head repeatedly nodded he took your lips into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side easing his fingers into your core.

His were longer and thicker than yours so you were feeling things that you had never known that you could feel just from being fingered “shit.” Your head fell back giving the boy access to your neck where he peppered it in kissing.

Eyes screwed shut you knew that it was game over the second he placed his thumb on your clit. You were actually rather surprised that he not only knew where it was but also knew what to do with it. But the thoughts shit talking him quickly stopped when he placed the perfect amount of pressure on the little bud.

Jack smirked as he looked at the sight of you “what would Quinn say if he knew that you were up here about to get fucked?” He asked angling his fingers different as he hopped to make you feel a new type of sensations.

Most days you had a problem using your filter “he would probably think that it was Z doing it,” you matched the chuffed look that was on his face.

But that look quickly dropped when the boy pulled his fingers out of you “up,” he mumbled as he motioned to you to get off of the counter.

You face turned into one of confusing as you listened to him “you’re gonna watch yourself get fucked,” he explained as he raised your dress up to your stomach so that he could pull your panties down.

The lace hit the ground as Jack went to a black box that was in a drawer to get a condom “you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight huh?” You asked seeing his shorts fall down with his boxers to reveal his fully hardened cock.

Your mouth watered as you tried to remain calm “something tells me you’ve been wanting this,” the boy teased as he rolled the condom over his cock.

You gripped at the countertop in front of you “you wanna hurry up and do it then or what?” You grumbled growing impatient.

For what ever reason Jack just found this amusing “always had such a mouth on you,” he muttered placing a kiss on your neck before he locked eyes with you in the mirror “you sure you want this?” The boy ran his protected cock over your clit a few times “Jack if you don’t hurry up I swear to-” you were quickly cut off as he grounded his hips into yours.

Your head fell forward “god,” you groaned as he stopped moving giving you the time to adjust to his size.

He leaned forward “it’s just me honey,” he placed a warm kiss below your earlobe.

If he wasn’t currently deep inside of you, you would have rolled you eyes at him but you feared what it would cause him to do “just move please.” You begged as you were desperate to some form of a release today.

Jack nodded grabbing onto your hips as he began to slid in and out of you “you like getting fucked when all of your friends are downstairs?” He asked smirking as he watched your boobs bounce each time he thrusted inside of you as you had decided to forgo a bra with your dress.

Your mind was hazy “words or I stop honey,” the boy warned causing your eyes to snap open.

Met with the sight of his cock grounding you out repeatedly you couldn’t help it when you shuddered “you fuck me so good,” you called out not being able to take your eyes off of the mirror.

Without a single moment of care you were continuing to stroke his ego “like watching what it is like to be fucked good?” He sucked at your neck in an attempt to mark you that actually ended up causing you to clench around him “like this pussy was made for me.” Jack groaned as his head rested on the crook of your neck swearing that nobody could ever make him feel that good every again.

You were in this state of bliss as your legs began to wobble. You moved your one hand from the counter to your clit as you were desperate to feel some your orgasm fast “move your hand,” Jack warned but you never listened.

So he repeated himself again but this time making sure to softly tap your hand “move your hand before I fucking stop,” his tone was serious enough to cause you to listen letting your hand move back to the counter that it was once on.

Of course though the hockey player didn’t leave your clit unattended as his hand had taken over what you had been doing “you keep clenching around me like that and I’m gonna come,” he confessed not realising just how close you actually were.

You sucked at your teeth trying to come up with a way to say it “I’m gonna,” you announced cutting yourself off with a moan as you could feel the way that his dick throbbed inside of you.

The sound was like music to the boys ears “not yet,” he shook his head as he wanted to push you a little bit further.

Jack didn’t know when he would get another cause to do this so he wasn’t going to let the opportunity just roll past him “be a good girl and wait for me.” His tone was stern as he sped up his pace wanting to join you in that state.

It felt like mission impossible, you couldn’t hold on even if you tried “I can’t,” you now had tears welling in your eyes as you were teetering on the fine like between coming and not.

For the first time since he started fucking you, Jack had left your his alone as he had one hand on your clit and the other had just moved into your hair.

He tugged at it causing you head to rear against his shoulder. You two were now looking at each other directly, no mirror between you, no nothing. So he leaned down “come for me,” his words were soft and just as your mouth opened to let out a moan he captured your lips in a kiss. The hockey player fucked you through your orgasm and just as yours ended and you clenched around him for the longest time that you had yet, it spurred on his own orgasm.

You pulled away from him “Jack,” you whimpered out as the feeling of overstimulation was quickly approaching you.

It caused the boy to laugh as he slid out of you “enjoyed that?” He asked with a smirk as he placed you back on the bathroom counter when your legs began to act like jelly.

Before you could respond there was a knock at the door “Jack?” It was Quinn’s voice and it caused your eyes to go wide.

Jack almost forgot to respond as he was still taking in your post fuck look “yeah,” he groaned as you had kicked his knee.

Quinn had been searching for you for the last five minutes “you know where y/n is?” He asked desperately trying to find you.

You had to hold in a gasp as you were worried what the middle Hughes brother might say “haven’t seen her,” the Devils player lied as he sent you a smirk.

The look he sent you was silently saying you owe me.

So something made her realise that whatever this was with Jack wasn’t going to be over just yet.

[chmydarling]

🎈🎹🎈🎹🎈🎹

❛ 🎶 happy birthday to lou. happy birthday to lou... ❜

he's seated himself at the piano and just so happens to be randomly performing a familiar tune, making a not so subtle announcement to anyone who cares (and also those who don't) to listen that it may or may not be his special day today.

[monsterfuker3000]

Call Me ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡☏♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Jesus God, this took an embarrassingly long time. Not sure it’s my best work, most of this was written while I was stoned out of my mind, and when that happens I think with my pussy and not my brain, but I can guarantee this shit filthy. It’s not edited because I’m high again.

Warnings: NSFW, DUBCON, Ghostface!Dazai, fem!reader, p in v, intercourse, unprotected sex, (don’t do that,) creampie (don’t do that either,) uhh sub!reader, dom!dazai, there’s uhhh there’s knives, blood, brief mention of a cut, fake kidnapping, drugging(?) established relationship and use of traffic light system but when I say dubcon I mean dubcon. Look me in my eyeballs. Dubcon. Uhhh restraints? Idk it’s just a little bit depraved so don’t read it if you don’t want depraved. There’s aftercare though bc I’m allergic to not ending my fics on a soft note. Characterization in this is questionable at best. I love you mwah.

To @texas-bitch-yee @genshinsbiggestsimp @cupidszvlvr @dxzxii @vqmpwclf sorry this took so long 👉🏻👈🏻

WC: 4k words of Osamu Dazai lecherously taking you and you being lecherously taken ❤️

Leaves crunched under your feet as you ran, the cool fall air burning in your lungs. The ankle you’d twisted a few minutes previous was screaming at you, but only one thing was going through your mind.

Do.

Not.

Stop.

You knew he wasn’t far behind you, he never had been. Deep down, through all your attempts to lose the man you knew was trailing you, you knew damn well he was never more than a few minutes away. If you stopped now, he’d catch you for sure, and he had every intention of using that knife you’d seen glinting in his hand when he dumped you on the ground in this forest in the middle of nowhere and told you to run for your life.

You stumbled down a small hill, nearly losing your footing but staying upright by some miracle. You paused for just a moment to steady yourself, your heart rate spiking when you heard a branch snap in the distance. Whether it was the man you’d received a phone call from earlier in the night or some woodland creature, you weren’t sticking around to find out, and you took off again.

You’d been at home just an hour previous, curled up on the sofa of your living room as you waited for Dazai to come home. Your phone rang next to you; expecting your boyfriend, you answered without checking the caller ID, not seeing that it read ‘UNKNOWN CALLER’ at the top of the screen.

“Hello?” You chirped, expecting the gentle voice of your boyfriend Osamu on the other end.

“Do you want to play a game?” came the reply, the voice gravelly and unfamiliar. You frowned and checked the caller ID, just now seeing it wasn’t anyone in your contacts. Your blood ran cold for just a moment before you realized exactly what was going on, and you laughed.

“Osamu,” you giggled, “that’s the wrong movie, silly!” The person on the end seemed to falter for just a moment before gathering themselves and resuming conversation.

“Well, if you know so much about movies, belladonna, then tell me, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Scream,” you replied simply. “And, Osamu, you’re giving yourself away calling me belladonna like that,” you laughed. He grumbled something inaudible on the other end before you hung up, knowing this was all part of the game.

This had all been in the works for a couple of weeks now, beginning the night you’d popped the original Scream into the DVD player on a movie night with Osamu. He’d had his arm around you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to feel the way you tensed up a bit when the killer came on screen, nor was it hard for him to see the way your cheeks would turn pink when you heard his voice. An idea began forming in Dazai’s head, something dangerous that he knew both of you would like. He leaned in towards you, lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered softly.

“My, my, belladonna, you seem to like what you see, hm?” he teased. Your cheeks reddened even more as you shrank in on yourself, declining to answer the question. “Well,” he continued, “what if I did something like that to you?”

You froze, then turned around to look at him, your eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Really?” you cautioned. He nodded, that signature smirk on his face telling you he was thinking devious thoughts.

“Really, sweet girl. Take you out to the woods where we can be all alone, let you go and hunt you down.” You shivered at his words, panties slicking up just at the thought. The two of you paused the movie and discussed in detail what expectations and boundaries you would have for each other, which is how you knew exactly what was happening when you received that call.

After you hung up the phone, it only took about five seconds for the phone to start ringing again, UNKNOWN CALLER scrolling across the screen a second time. You answered with a smile on your face, ready to mouth off again, but the voice on the other end beat you to it.

“You hang up on me again, I’ll gut you like a fish!”

You froze once again, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You knew this was a line ripped directly from the movie, but the way it was said sent shivers down your spine. The voice on the other end was rough, sharp, nothing like the Osamu you knew. For the first time tonight, you felt a stab of cold, genuine fear. The voice continued.

“Now, belladonna, I’m somewhere in your house. Do you want to guess where?” he urged. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to gauge whether Dazai could hide behind anything in front of you. But you’d hear him, right? That meant he had to be somewhere else in the house, somewhere he could call you from and you wouldn’t hear him.

“Tick-tock, sweet girl,” the voice on the phone purred. “I’ll give you just one guess. If you get it right, I’ll let you go. If you get it wrong, however,” he laughed darkly, “well, belladonna, you should start running.”

Your heart rate quickened, your palms slicking with sweat. Where the hell could he be?

“You have until the count of three, sweet girl.”

The kitchen? No, too open.

“One.”

The bathroom? No, you’d just been in there a few minutes previous and it was empty.

“Two.”

The dining room? No, you’d hear him from there. Ah! You knew where he must be.

“Three.”

“The bedroom!” you cried, just as the final number left his mouth. Then, silence.

“Tsk-tsk, oh, belladonna,” he sighed. “I thought you’d be better at this. How disappointing.”

Your hands shook, your blood like ice in your veins. You knew you had to run, but where? You guessed wrong, you had no clue where he was. You were going to have to take your chances.

You dropped your phone and started running toward the front door, immediately regretting not holding on to it, but knowing that it wouldn’t help you anyway. Focused more on getting out than staying undetected, you ran clumsily out of the living room into the hallway leading to your front door, your socked feet slipping on the hardwood. The front door was only twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. Five. You reached the doorknob, fighting with your other hand to unlock the deadbolt. Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of black and white, a rag thrown over your nose and mouth, wet with a faintly sweet smelling substance, and then darkness.

You awoke on the ground in a dark, unfamiliar clearing surrounded by thick forest, your hands taped behind your back. The only light afforded to you was from the full moon and the headlights of the dark SUV you assume you arrived in.

A man stood in front of you, slender and tall, dressed all in black and holding a large hunting knife at his side that glinted in the moonlight. His face was concealed by the traditional Ghostface Halloween mask. How original. How perfect.

You noticed that he’d been kind enough to change you out of your pajamas and into thick pants and heavy boots. A genuinely kind gesture, one that reminded you that you could truly trust the man in front of you. You held on to this feeling, knowing this would be the only mercy afforded to you tonight.

The man knelt in front of you, lifting the corner of his mask to reveal that he was, in fact, the one and only Dazai Osamu. His expression was soft, almost concerned.

“Hey, give me a color, angel,” he urged.

You took a deep breath. “Green,” you answered. Dazai’s mouth curled into a smile, one that once again sent shivers down your spine, and he winked at you. He readjusted the mask, completely covering his face again, and stood.

“Little bunny,” he purred. “Whatever are you doing in the woods all alone, hm? He knelt once again as he lifted his knife to press the blade to your face, softly enough that it didn’t break skin, but hard enough so that you could feel just how sharp it really was.

“Do you know what happens to little bunnies all alone in the woods, sweet girl?” You shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Sometimes they encounter wolves.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, it twisted your stomach but shot straight to your core all the same. He used his other hand to pop the button and lower the zipper on your pants, sliding his hand into your panties to press two fingers to your pussy, gathering the slick there. He sighed deeply, shuddering at the feeling of just how wet this was all making you.

“Oh, little bunny, you look so scared but you feel so wet,” he moaned, withdrawing his fingers to slide them into your own mouth. You took the hint and began to lick them clean, moaning at the taste of your own slick. He was kind enough to button your pants back up before flipping you over onto your stomach, caging you in with his arms. He cut through the tape binding your hands, just barely nicking your arm in the process making you gasp. He bent down to whisper in your ear again.

“It’s time to run, little bunny.”

He lifted himself off of you enough for you to scramble out from under him onto your feet, elbowing him in the process. He held his side, hissing in pain. “That hurt, bunny. I’m going to give you a thirty second head start. You better run for your life,” he growled. You weren’t sticking around to find out how serious he was, so you turned tail and ran into the darkness.

Which is what landed you here, stumbling through the forest on a twisted ankle, covered in scrapes and cuts from running through branches you didn’t see until it was much too late.

You stumbled into another clearing, your heart racing. You let yourself feel a bit of relief before you noticed the SUV in the clearing with you. The same SUV you arrived in, and the same clearing you’ve been running from. Dazai had herded you in a circle.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, knowing he couldn’t be far behind you. You scanned the tree line all around you, finally spotting the glint of metal to your right. You gasped, finding yourself unable to scream, and whipped around in the other direction, trying to get away as fast as you could, but the heavy footfalls behind you came closer all the same.

Two arms shot out from behind you, one on each side to wrap around your body. He broke your fall a bit, but wrestled you to the ground all the same, pinning you flat on your back with his arms once again caging you in and a strong thigh pressing between your own.

You finally found your voice, screaming in fear as you tried to worm your way out from under him. You worked an arm free and swung it at him in an attempt to get him off of you, but you only succeeded in knocking off his mask. The face underneath was almost as scary as the mask itself, Dazai’s eyes sharp and his cruel smile much too wide.

He pulled a short length of rope from his pocket, recapturing your arm and tying your wrists together in front of you. You opened your mouth to scream once again but he clapped a large, gloved hand over your mouth before you could even make a sound.

“Little bunny,” he taunted. “Looks like I caught you, hm?” He brought his other hand to his belt where he’d tucked his knife, pulling it free and raising it to your face. He pressed it to your cheek, making a shallow cut there, barely enough to break the skin, sighing at the tiny trickle of blood gathering there before removing the knife as you whimpered beneath his hand.

“I’ll do that again if you don’t keep quiet, bunny,” he warned. “I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth. Are you going to scream, or can you keep quiet?” He took your fervent nodding to mean that you agreed to keep quiet, and he removed his hand.

Instead of saying anything, you immediately spat in his face, causing him to rear back on his knees for just a moment to wipe it away.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, bunny,” he said, flicking the wetness away from his hand. “I think it’s time you learn a lesson.”

He moved again, quick as lightning, to use his knife to cut a sizable slit out of your pants, waistband to crotch, before ripping them in half the rest of the way to hang loosely below your knees. He ripped your panties off of your body in one clean motion, and you flinched when the cool night air met your soaked pussy.

You thought he might cut you again, whining in confusion when he flipped the knife into the air, catching it by the blade. That confusion ended quickly when you felt him press the blunt handle to your pussy. You struggled uselessly against your bindings, but between the rope around your hands and the man never letting go of one of your legs, you weren’t getting away.

“Ah-ah, bunny,” Dazai teased. “Spitting on me wasn’t very nice, you know. I think you know that you deserve to be punished.” His voice was low in his throat, jarring compared to the usual gentle whispers he afforded you when he fucked you.

You shook your head, hard enough to make yourself dizzy. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise I’ll behave- fuck!” Your pleading was cut off when Dazai pushed the knife handle into you in one clean thrust.

You cried out at the intrusion, fighting it instinctively even though it hurt in such a delicious way. Tears collected on your lashes as you tried to keep from showing him you actually liked this, but unfortunately Dazai knew your every tiny expression like the back of his hand.

“Oh, belladonna, you like it when I fuck you with my knife, don’t you?” He purred. You shook your head again with a whine, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “Yes, I think you do, pretty. Come on, tell me you like the filthy things I’m doing to you. Tell me you love it.”

You cried out again, tears finally spilling from your eyes as you admitted, “love it, love it, love it,” chanting it like a mantra with every thrust of the handle.

He bent down towards you again to whisper against your ear. “I know, belladonna, I can hear how much you love it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. Whether he meant your cries or the filthy, wet sounds he was drawing from your pussy, you didn’t know.

His words pushed you over the edge of a cliff you weren’t even fully aware you were standing on as you came on the handle, slicking it up along with your thighs and Dazai’s hand.

“Oh, what a good little bunny,” he praised, an edge of malice in his words. “Such a good girl, cumming on my knife like the dirty little thing you are,” he continued, pulling the handle out of you and admiring the way it now glistened with your slick in the moonlight. He stabbed it into the ground next to your head, confident he’d made you pliable enough to not struggle as he flipped you over onto your stomach, prone with your legs together between his own. You tried to push yourself up on your forearms, but a large hand square in the middle of your back kept you from even getting your hands under you with any efficiency.

“What are you-“ your question was cut off when he slid that same hand up to the back of your head, quick as anything to press your face into the mossy forest floor, muffling any protests.

“Shh, no talking, bunny,” he soothed. You whined, the sound still muffled by moss. He laughed, the motion driving his hips lightly into your ass where you felt his cock straining against his pants, and you were so tightly wound that such a small action made your hips buck just a fraction of an inch.

Dazai noticed your reaction, of course, driving his clothed hips into yours much harder this time, taking his hand off the back of your head and allowing you to cry out.

“Fuck, please!” you cried, not sure what you were even begging for, pushing your upper body up onto your still bound forearms, high enough to twist your head around and allow Dazai to see the tears still rolling down your face. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight, and he rolled his hips into yours again.

You whined again and his patience began to wear thin; you heard the clank of a belt and the rustling of fabric behind you and you jumped, squirming uselessly beneath him until you felt the head of his cock brushing against your ass and you froze again.

“Wait, wait!” you cried, hands scrabbling on the ground beneath you. He chuckled deep in his throat and used his legs to push yours even closer together, tipping your hips up to line his cock up to your entrance. He pushed it between your thighs, gathering the slick dripping down your legs before pushing it into your waiting pussy with a sigh, ignoring your pleas all the while.

He worked himself in, inch by torturous inch, the gentle way he reached up to pet your hair contrasting with the harsh way he drove his hips into you as you cried.

Halfway in, your eyes flew open, the stretch becoming too much.

“Wait! Not gonna fit, ‘s too big!” you slurred, fighting a bit harder to get away, still to no avail. “Too tight like this,” you whined. Dazai tangled his fingers into your hair, yanking you back so he could speak directly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

“Little bunny, you think it isn’t going to fit? You always take my cock so well, and now that this pretty little pussy is drooling down your legs, you think I can’t fit it in? You’ve never been this wet before, belladonna,” he murmured. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

He snapped his hips into yours doubly hard now, sheathing himself completely with just a handful more thrusts that pulled a genuine wail from your throat, your mind screaming at you that the cock drilling into you was tearing you in half.

His pace was breakneck, his hips colliding with yours so hard they were driving you inch by inch across the forest floor, matting your tangled hair with leaves. You shifted your hips a bit, keeping him from hitting quite so deep. He didn’t take kindly to this, letting out a growl and letting go of your hair to reach out and yank the knife out of the ground next to you, holding it up to your neck and nicking the skin there, whether by accident or on purpose you weren’t sure. You whined as you felt a thin trickle of blood run down your throat.

“Keep those fucking hips where I put them,” Dazai growled. You whined at him to please, fuck, just slow down! and he finally relented, dropping the knife and switching instead to rolling his hips against yours, driving the tip of his cock directly into your g-spot and pressing his balls to your clit with each thrust.

The sharp pain slowly began to give way to pleasure as your cries gave way to moans, each sensation so overwhelming it caused your legs to shake. Dazai took hold of your hair once again, this time much gentler, the action causing a stir in your belly and already bringing you close to cumming.

“Fuck yes, little bunny. You like this, don’t you?” he teased. “You like it when I fuck you nasty,” he continued, punctuating his sentence with a particularly slow roll of his hips that drew a high-pitched cry from you, tears still rolling down your face. “You gonna cum, sweet girl?” he urged. “You gonna cum from me taking you from behind, on the ground like a fucking animal?” he urged.

Your eyes rolled back, your breath catching in your throat as your hips stuttered beneath him; Dazai knew you were close, you just needed one more little push.

“You want me to fill you up, bunny? Fuck yeah, I felt you squeeze me just now, of course you do. ‘M gonna fill that soaked little cunt up so full of my cum, leave it to leak out of you since you’re such a filthy girl.”

His final sentence and a well-timed thrust pushed you over the edge and you came hard, whole body shaking as you gushed around him. You soaked his legs as well as your own, the rest of your cum pattering on the leaves below you as you cried out his name.

He fucked you through your orgasm, the relentless clenching of your pussy bringing him closer to his own. Your arms finally gave out on you, your head dropping to the ground softly, but Dazai was kind enough to turn it to the side for you so that you could breathe.

“‘M close, belladonna,” he whispered.

“Osamu,” you whined, quickly becoming overstimulated, “I’m tired.”

“Shh, sweet girl, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” he soothed, placing an almost shockingly sweet kiss on your cheek, a sharp contrast from the way he’d just been treating you. His hips began to stutter, sloppy and almost clumsy, before you felt him shake above you, spilling his load into you as deep as he could get it.

Dazai shuddered as he came, his arms very nearly giving out, but he wasn’t through yet. He pulled out suddenly, the sudden friction on your already sore pussy making you’ll help. He clumsily pulled his phone out of his back pocket, readjusting to take a photo of his cum already spilling from your pussy, then another, a selfie with his fist tangled in your hair, yanking your head up next to his as he smiled at your completely fucked-out expression. Satisfied, he rolled away from you before he collapsed to avoid crushing you. Flipping onto his back, he pulled his jeans back up where they belonged before gathering you in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wiping away at your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Such a good girl for me, honey,” he whispered, squeezing you tight. “Anything hurt?”

“A-ankle. . .” you whimpered, deciding the twisted appendage was your most immediate problem after your completely abused pussy.

He clicked his tongue teasingly, assuring you he had an ice pack in the car, along with a blanket. He stood, gathering you up in his arms before starting toward the car. The passenger door had been left open, so he placed you onto the seat, wrapping you in a blanket before wetting a rag from a water bottle, wiping away at the blood on your face and neck as you began to drift off.

“‘Samu?” you asked

“Yes, belladonna?”

“I love you,” you slurred. He laughed softly.

“I love you too.”

WEEEEEHOOOOO do u feel it? Cumming in the air tonight?

[raisedbythetv89]

The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

[mechaknight-98]

Beastmaster's Bond V (NSFW) FT Chaehyun

Author's note: this is my favorite Chaehyun pic this far. Gosh I love her so much.

By some miracle, Chaehyun and I managed to arrive in South Korea without fucking on the plane.

When exiting baggage claim get an Uber to our hotel. On the way, Chaehyun holds my hand tightly her nerves are palpable.

It's late at night by the time we get in do we are both tired with fried brains, but our bodies have other ideas. The moment the door closes to our room. I can feel the stockpiled arousal of 3 days inside me. I can feel my manhood harden to the point of discomfort. I look at Chaehyun and a similar look is in her eyes. We both strip without breaking eye contact while whispering our dirtiest desires to the other.

“Im going to fill that pussy with so much cum,” I started. Chaehyun was so feverish in her arousal she said.

“I want you to put your dick so far in me that I can almost taste it. Then I wanna choke on it. I want to pass out gagging on your dick whether it's in my mouth or my pussy I don't care.”

“Then I guess I'll just have to fill both your holes,”

“Promise?” Chaehyun asks eyes sparkling

I smile “Guarantee,”

Chaehyun gets on her knees as I rest my cock on her face.

“I missed this cock,” she said as she began stroking my rod I stick my rod down her throat and start fucking her face. Her gags echo through the room as I grab her cheeks and ravage her face. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as I hear her scream. I look down to make sure she's okay only to see her cumming viciously under me. His throat opens up and then rapidly clenches me in.

I watch as her seductive smile drives me to a quick release. I watch as she swallows my cum, and my dick hardens again. I feel the overwhelming urge to devour her but her scent smells different. Something is different about my mate. I can't place it though as she bends over the bed and wiggles that fat ass begging me to fill her. “How do you want it, tiger?” I ask

“Pound me till I can't walk tomorrow or the next day,” she moans desperately. Her body calls to me as I approach. She seems needier than usual. Mewling and moaning as soon as enter her. As I line up with her I begin to wonder why or how our bodies began to emulate the megafauna but I can't think for long because Chaehyun releases a scent that I haven't smelled before.

“Babe please fill me,” she says. I take in the scent and something happens inside of me. A wall breaks and I turn Chaehyun over. I grab at her breasts groping and massaging while being consumed by the thought that she's mine and no one else. I run my rod through her and she moans uncontrollably. While this is going on I can't help but feel like something is different in both of us. I continue to rail her as I try to figure out what's different. Her pussy is like a vice grip on my cock; squelching and drenching my cock in her slick. I noticed that Chaehyun is never this wet nor is she this tight usually. Her boobs also look bigger. Her hips are fuller as I feel around I notice in fact they are bigger. Chaehyun moans her voice is huskier than it normally is and then it all clicks for me.

“You pregnant I say as I'm balls deep in Chaehyun.

She dials in for a moment as I fuck her, “no I'm not,” she says.

“Yes, you are,” I say as I go down to her right tight and begin to suck Chaehyun's claws into my back while I begin to feel milk flow from her chest. She throws her head back as I continue to suck her right tit. When my mouth is full I bring my lips to hers and drool some into her mouth. Chaehyun moans as she wraps both her legs around my waist. Her pussy clenched my cock as I finally gave in to the animal inside. I exploded inside Chaehyun. She moaned as she came as well. Her breasts heaved before her milk just exploded everywhere. I tried to lap up as much as possible as we both collapsed on the bed. A possessive wave floods my body as I grasp her tight. She moans again making my cock harder.

“Are you that desperate for me to fuck you again,” I said and Chaehyun smiled.

“What's got into you Rexy,” she coos.

“My mate is bearing my child,” I say while Chaehyun strokes me slowly. Our eyes lock and I see my mate as she sees herself and she sees me as I see myself. It was a surreal experience but pleasant. We fall asleep content in each other’s arms.

At some point during our rest and recovery, I woke up my cock still embedded in Chaehyun’s snatch. Her breath alerts me she's sleeping peacefully but she releases that scent and I'm inundated and overwhelmed by the urge and need to fill her. I give in by giving a slow and powerful thrust. I hear a yelp as Chaehyun jolts awake.

“Fuck harder,” she moans and all bets are off. I take a long pause before drawing out only to slam into her fertile pussy again. She smiles as she looks into my eyes. She smiles as her fingers claw into me. A wave of pride and lust washes over me with such intensity I almost pass out from it.

As I thrust into her my wisps begin to float around us. Chaehyun looks at one and smiles. She reaches out and touches it and chills go down my spine as if I felt that. Her pussy clinches my rod trying to get another load.

“Drown my pussy in your cum. I want your pups. I'm your mate I earned them,” Chaehyun says with a sexy husk that causes me to explode inside her. I watch as she stares at me with lustful satisfaction as her legs lock me inside her ravenous cavern. I noticed an evil glint in Chaehyun’s eyes her legs unlocked from around my waist as she pushed me down her eyes pools of endless lust with no other thoughts. She lowers herself and drools all over my cock. I watch in terror as it grows bigger than I've ever seen for her. Chaehyun wraps her tits around my cock. She gradually massages my shaft I groan and give in to her body's demands of me. I lift my mate ad force my cock back into her pussy as we fuck the animal inside awakens fully, “who's pussy is this,” I growl at my mate. Chaehyun moans in ecstasy before replying “Yours. Now who's cock is that,”

I responded with “yours,” as another orgasm hit the both of us. As we lay together after our orgasms are through a mixed pheromone releases and sends us both in an unending orgasm as the both of us try but can't stop cumming.

After two hours of endless orgasms, I lay next to her as we both dozed off.

The next morning I get up and see my favorite gal waking up with me. She was fixing her disheveled hair which led to her having the cutest expression. I went to help her and as I did she gave me a confused look.

“What I can't love my fiance?” I asked. Chaehyun looked at me and blushed.

“Huh?” she said with furrowed brows and furtive glances.

I smile at her before saying, “You heard me. Why can't I love my fiance?”

Chaehyun smiles bashfully as she sits across from me.

“I was going to wait till we got home to officially propose but since you're pregnant I figured now is a good time as any.” Chaehyun blushed as I got on one knee.

I smile as I stare into her eyes “What do you,” I start before I’m cut off by an “Absolutely” Before I can get up though I am pummeled by so many kisses.

When Chaehyun’s affection bombing stops she looks up at me and I am filled with love for her. After that, we get up and go to breakfast with her parents. On the way, Chaehyun asks me about my family.

“Hey Dino why don't you talk to your family?” she asks.

“Uh they don't like my hobbies,” I reply “so I have no real conversations with them as they center conversations typically about what they like or what they're doing.”

“That explains why you suck so much at small talk,” Chaehyun teased. I shrugged and replied

“Hey I still bagged a baddie,” Chaehyun looked at me confused before I said

“It's you, dummy!” Chaehyun smiled as she parked us in. We walk inside the venue. She looks around confused for a bit before locking eyes with her dad and mom. She smiles and runs happily to them with me following behind the squealing girl.

Her dad looks at me with a glare I stand in front of him with a hopefully kind smile but the glare still stands.

"So you're the Upstart from California." He says.

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn��t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

[coopswhxre]

Word's Mean Nothin'

Boyd Crowder x (Fem)Reader

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis: Boyd confesses his feelings for you and things get a little heated.

This is my first time writing anything for tumblr, so please be nice XD

It had been three weeks since your sister Ava allowed Boyd Crowder to stay in the attic of the home you both shared. He had kept to himself, spending his days reading the Bible and listening to the radio. Frankly, you preferred it that way; seeing his smug face was the last thing you wanted after all the trouble he'd brought upon Ava.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, you decided to enjoy your coffee on the porch, relishing the crisp air, only to be startled by Boyd sitting on the bench by the door, his expression one of deep thought.

With a sigh, you considered him for a moment before turning to go back inside.

"Y/N," his voice was low as he called out your name, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond your property. "Would you sit with me?"

You paused, your foot hovering over the threshold. "Why should I?"

"Please…" His eyes met yours—wide, hazel, and piercing. To your surprise, they seemed to shimmer with what looked like genuine remorse.

"You've got two minutes, Crowder," you conceded, walking over to take the rocking chair opposite him.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defensively as you leaned back. "Well, I ain't got all night, Boyd."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout these past few weeks, what my daddy did to your sister… to you." He gestured towards your shoulder, where a bullet from his father, Bo, had grazed you, sending a chill of remembered pain through you. "I know I can't undo what happened or clear away the bad blood between us, but I need you to know, I'm sorry."

Your gaze hardened, not quite ready to accept his apology, yet you couldn't help but notice the earnestness in his tone—something you hadn't expected from Boyd Crowder. The silence lingered for a moment, punctuated only by the distant calls of evening birds and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath you.

"Why now, Boyd?" you finally asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's changed?"

Boyd sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. "I've had a lot of time to think, up there in that attic. 'Bout my life, the choices I've made, the folks I've hurt." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "I've realized if I keep goin' down this path, I'll end up all alone. I don't want that. Not anymore."

You watched him, trying to decipher if this was another one of his manipulations. Boyd was known for his silver tongue, and trust was not something easily given, especially to a man like him. Yet, there was something different this time, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"And what 'bout Ava?" you pressed, the concern for your sister surfacing. "What assurances do I have that you won’t put her—or me—in danger again?"

Boyd nodded, understanding the weight of your question. "I can't give you guarantees, Y/N. All I can offer is my word to do better. I wanna protect Ava, not cause her more pain. I hope, in time, you'll see that."

You remained silent, mulling over his words. The evening chill began to seep through your clothes, reminding you of the fading light.

"Time'll tell, Boyd," you finally said, standing up from the rocking chair. "Words mean nothin' without action. You better prove yourself, or you're out."

As you lay in bed that night, the conversation with Boyd replayed endlessly in your mind. His voice, earnest and somber, seemed genuinely filled with regret—a side of him you hadn't seen before. But deep down, you suspected Ava was his true motivation. Boyd had always harbored a soft spot for her, even during her marriage to his brother.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the radio playing upstairs, its volume carrying through the quiet house. With a muttered curse, you threw off the covers and made your way to the attic to tell Boyd to turn it down.

Reaching the attic door, you knocked sharply before entering. The sight that greeted you made you gasp—Boyd, just out of the shower, clad only in a towel around his waist, his skin damp and his hair slicked back. For a moment, you faltered, taken aback by the stark contrast between his usual rugged demeanor and the vulnerability he now displayed.

"Boyd, the music—it’s too loud," you said, striving to keep your voice steady despite the distraction.

"Oh, sorry bout that," Boyd replied, his tone apologetic as he reached for the radio, turning it down immediately. "Didn’t realize it was carrying through the house."

You nodded, your eyes inadvertently scanning the sparse, dimly lit attic. It was clear he lived simply here, with just a few personal items. The vulnerability of his living situation, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, softened your stance just slightly.

"Thanks," you added, pausing at the doorway. "And Boyd—about earlier… I’m thinking about what you said."

Boyd’s eyes met yours, hopeful yet cautious. "I appreciate that, Y/N. Really, I do."

You were already halfway out the door when Boyd's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Y/N," he called, his tone hesitant yet earnest. You paused, your hand on the door frame, and turned back to face him.

"I just… If you've got a minute, I'd like to say a bit more," he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. The soft light from the single bulb overhead cast shadows that played across his features.

You sighed, your initial irritation fading into a cautious curiosity. "Alright, Boyd. What is it?" you asked, leaning against the door frame.

He took a deep breath, searching for his words - eyes searching the dimly lit attic before settling back on you. The air was thick with tension, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more tentative. "I know this ain't the time or place, and maybe it's not my place to say, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a cautious step closer, his expression earnest.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively. "Boyd, if you've got something to say, just say it."

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "It's just… these past weeks, being here, seeing how you handle everything… it’s made me realize a lot more than just my mistakes." He paused, swallowing hard. "I’ve come to… care for you, Y/N. More than I should, given everything."

The confession hung between you, startling in its sincerity. Boyd looked vulnerable, almost afraid of how you might respond. "I know I don't deserve a chance, not with my history… but if you'd ever think it possible—"

"Boyd, I—" You started, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

He stepped forward, closing the gap slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I know it's a lot to ask. I don't even know what I’m asking for. Just… don’t shut me out. Please."

The intensity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice, it broke through your defenses in a way you hadn't anticipated. You were about to speak, to chastise him or perhaps to dismiss his words, when impulsively, Boyd leaned in, his hesitation melting away in the moment.

His lips met yours, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning, as if he was still seeking permission. But as you stood frozen, surprised by your own stillness, something shifted. Maybe it was the isolation of the attic, the soft hum of the now-quiet radio, or the genuine remorse he had shown earlier; whatever it was, you found yourself not pulling away.

The kiss deepened slightly, Boyd's lips firm yet cautious. His hand, tentative at first, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you slightly closer. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool air of the attic, and you could feel the dampness of his hair, the remnants of his shower, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek.

The softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, was disarming. It wasn't rushed or fraught with the intensity of passion often depicted in stories; rather, it was a slow burn, a flicker of something new.

As Boyd finally pulled away, the slight catch in his breath was audible in the quiet of the attic. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or rejection. What he found instead was confusion.

Boyd's gaze was unwavering, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"I… I'm sorry if that was too much," he whispered. "I just needed you to know, to really know, how I feel."

The weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the kiss, left you silent for a moment. You were still processing, still trying to align this new Boyd with the one you had known, always calculating, always a step ahead.

His eyes held yours, searching for a sign of how you might react next. The tension was palpable, a mix of anticipation and fear. You took a moment, your own confusion swirling with the unexpected emotions stirred by the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, you made your decision. Stepping forward, closing the gap Boyd had just created, you reached up to touch his face gently, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. Boyd looked at you, his eyes wide.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his again. This time, there was a certainty in your movement, a decision made. Boyd responded almost immediately, his hands moving to your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you invited him further, parting your lips.

Boyd's response was immediate and intense. His tongue met yours, exploring softly, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence as you responded in kind. His fingers pressed into your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest. The heat from his body enveloped you.

The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel Boyd's heart racing just as fast as yours, his breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The soft hum of the radio now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the sound of your joint breathing and the occasional creak of the attic floor beneath you.

As the kiss finally broke, you both stood there, forehead against forehead, trying to catch your breath. Boyd's hands remained on your waist, not willing to let go just yet, and you made no move to step back.

Boyd finally spoke, his voice husky and low. "Y/N, I—"

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. We don’t need words right now."

As the tension in the room shifted from apprehensive to charged, you took Boyd's hand. The air in the attic felt thick, almost tangible with the turn of emotions. Leading him to his bed, you were acutely aware of every sound—the slight creak of the floorboards, the distant call of the night, and the rustle of the towel as it shifted against Boyd's form.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft light from the single bulb cast shadows that danced on the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment. You could see the outline of Boyd's form under the towel, the tension in his body, and the undeniable evidence of his desire.

Boyd stood before you, his breathing deep and uneven.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching the edge of the towel at his waist. Your eyes met, and there was a silent question in yours, a pause as you gave him a moment to decide.

Boyd's hand covered yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He nodded slightly, a wordless agreement, a surrender to the moment and to whatever it might bring. You pulled gently, and the towel fell away, leaving Boyd exposed.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes widening in both surprise and desire as you took in the sight of him. His swollen tip, coated in glistening precum, called out to you and you couldn't resist. Your mouth watered with anticipation as you enveloped his length with your lips, savoring the velvety texture against your tongue. He groaned and grasped tightly onto your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, never taking his piercing gaze off of yours.

You moaned as his hand guided your movements, taking him in deeper and savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him. The sound of your moans vibrating around him was like a symphony to his ears until he suddenly let go, creating a soft popping noise as your lips released his member.

"Damn, Y/N," he gasped. "If you keep that up, I won't be able to return the favor." He laughed hoarsely, that toothy grin of his shining in the dim light before his expression turned dark. "Lie back, baby." The intense heat between your legs threatened to consume you at his words, and you couldn't help but melt at the way the word ‘baby’ rolled off his tongue.

You followed his instructions, shifting towards the head of the bed and easing yourself onto the soft pillows. He moved over you, taking in the sight of your body spread out beneath him, his arousal pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

His lips trailed down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin as he pressed himself against your thigh. You let out a gasp as he tugged at the neckline of your singlet, exposing one of your erect nipples. His tongue darted out to flick at the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling.

"Boyd…" you moaned, overwhelmed. "please, more."

Sitting up on his knees between your open legs, Boyd’s fingers gripped the waistline of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Your heart raced as you felt the cool air against your bare skin. He tossed you shorts aside, eyes filled with desire, as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

You clenched your hands in the sheets, your breath hitched as you eagerly awaited his next move. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Boyd leaned in closer, his face just above your quivering core. You felt his breath against your most sensitive spot, making you squirm. His finger traced your outer lips, teasing the entrance of your heat.

And then, finally, he slipped a finger inside, pushing gently against your tight walls. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body that left you gasping for breath.

"Fuck, Y/N," His voice a mix of lust and awe. "You're so tight."

His fingers delved deeper into your core, twisting and curling to ignite a firestorm of sensations that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Your hips eagerly moved in rhythm with his movements, yearning for the release that felt so tantalizingly close.

As he worked his fingers, his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his skilled digits inside of you.

Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more pleasure, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for more.

He spat into his hand and slicked it over his pulsing member, preparing himself for you.

Your heart raced as he slowly positioned himself at your entrance, pausing to meet your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body begging for the connection that was moments away. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and a wave of pleasure washed over you as you held onto him tightly. Your inner muscles contracted around his length, drawing him in deeper.

Boyd let out a loud grunt, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the tightness of your walls. His hands fisted the sheet on either side of your head as he paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Slowly, he began to move, setting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through both of you. You met his thrusts eagerly, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Your breaths became heavier, your bodies glistening with perspiration as the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the occasional curse from Boyd.

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging deeply into his skin as you pulled him closer. The friction was exquisite, and you could feel the aching need building within you.

Boyd's eyes were locked onto yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss as he thrust deeper. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his every move.

Your climax was building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You could feel it, the tightening coil of pleasure, threatening to unravel. You dug your nails into his back, arching your hips to meet his. The sensation was too much, and you cried out as you peaked, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Boyd watched you in awe as he continued to thrust into you. The sight of you in the throes of orgasm was more than he could take, and he quickly joined you, his body shuddering as he released deep within you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Your legs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you melted into the bed. Boyd's weight rested on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he caught his breath.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. "That was…" you began, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Somethin’.” Boyd finished your sentence, his words muffled against your skin when a knock at the door made you both jump.

Boyd quickly rolled off you, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist. You straightened yourself on the bed, pulling the sheets around you, heart still pounding.

Dear god, you'd forgotten all about your sister downstairs!

Boyd cracked open the door just enough to peek through, and Ava's voice floated in, laced with a hint of amusement. "Y'all planning on making that racket all night? Some of us have a busy day tomorrow," she teased, her tone light but carrying a knowing edge.

A sheepish grin spread across Boyd’s features. "Sorry, Ava," he called back through the slightly ajar door, his voice a mix of embarrassment and mirth. "We'll keep it down."

"Better," Ava replied, her voice now softened with laughter. "Just remember, thin walls in this old house."

[captain-hawks]

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning. 

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed. 

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen. 

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed. 

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy. 

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin. 

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment. 

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly. 

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn. 

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware. 

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything. 

His tall, solid form. 

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one). 

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought. 

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel. 

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog. 

But it’s always been platonic. 

Friendly. 

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix. 

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck. 

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again). 

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine. 

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity. 

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope. 

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips. 

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel. 

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this. 

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous. 

Which he definitely isn’t. 

But you poke the bear anyway. 

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen. 

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs. 

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud. 

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt. 

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward. 

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs. 

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones. 

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say. 

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out. 

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock. 

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him. 

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit. 

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone. 

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. 

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy. 

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing. 

Desire. 

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection. 

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his. 

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss. 

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen. 

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin. 

“Good.”

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