#I NEED TO FOCUS!!! I WANT TO DRAW.... COVERS EYES WITH MY HAND.

[bullet-prooflove]

“I saw them when you sat down, they were peekin' out I'm gonna tell you right now, they're all I'm thinkin' about”

W/Nicholas Baxter 👀👀😍😍

Much thanks! Hope you are having a fabulous day! 🩵🩵💞💞

Tagging: @kmc1989 @est1887 @wabi-sabi1090 @mini-bee-bee @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

The Romantic - Nick has always been a romantic when it comes to you.

Distraction - You distract Nick from work.

Symphony (NSFW) - Nick welcomes you home in his own special way.

Come Back To Bed - Nick tries to coax you back to bed.

Cancelled - You cancel your plans after Nick comes home exhausted.

How High - You say jump, Nick asks how high.

Bitter Sweet Symphony - Nick steps up when you realise you face a career ending illness.

And The Music Plays On... - Nick helps you come to terms with your diagnosis.

You’re wearing mauve. Nick knows that because everytime you uncross your legs, he gets a flash of those pretty panties from across the room as he tries diligently to finish the email he’s writing.

You’re sitting on the couch in his office, planning out your tour schedule for next year in that wrap dress he likes, the one that just takes a little tug of the bow to undo. Your thighs part just a little as you bite your lower lip and Nick’s cock throbs in his trousers, the seam rubbing across his leaking head.

It’s been a while since he’s been able to get his hands on you, he’s had a few cases eating up his time and you’ve been rehearsing new songs for your tour. He backtracks over the past month and realises it’s been almost two weeks since he last made love to you. His fingertips trail over the keyboard he watches you shift again, the hem of your dress creeping just a little higher and Nick just can’t take it anymore.

“We should take a break.” He says raising to his feet and loosening his tie.

“Alright, just give me a minute.” You say, your focus still on the screen of your own laptop as Nick drops to his knees in front of you. His firm hands come to rest on your thighs separating them and you find yourself staring into his heated eyes as he plucks at the tie of your dress.

“I’ve just realised how long I’ve gone without tasting you.” He murmurs as the fabric falls open, revealing the matching mauve bra. “I think we need to fix that.”

“Oh…” You say, losing the rest of your sentence because Nick’s face is already pressed between your thighs, inhaling the sweet scent of your arousal. The heat from his breath makes you arch against his mouth before his tongue traces over you through the fabric.

“Take them off.” You mutter, shrugging out of your dress. “I don’t want anything between us.”

He peels your panties down your thighs before stripping out of his own clothes, each item falling to the floor at his feet until he’s naked before you. Your fingers thread through his, tugging him down onto the couch with you and he goes willingly. His body covers yours, the heat from it, igniting every single synapse in your body as his palm comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your mouth to his. He fills you slowly, sinking into you inch by inch until he buried to the hilt. You moan into his kiss, your thighs tightening around his hips drawing him deeper and his cock brushes that deviant little spot, the one that makes stars dance behind your eyes.

“Right there.” You murmur and Nick smiles against your lips, your hand running through his hair, gripping it between your fingers as he starts to thrust. “That’s it Nick, right there.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[oh-gh0st]

sable i hate u. so much rn.

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[redwing4life]

mdni

wanna know a bucky trope that sends me spiralling? bucky filming you all drunk on his cock.

imagine your thighs all sticky with cum, the three orgasms bucky’s pulled from you painted across the soft flesh like paint on a canvas. bucky can’t stop tracing his throbbing pink tip over your filthy thighs; his own white seed mixes with yours and you whine at the sound.

“never get tired of this, doll.” bucky’s sultry tone washes over you, your mind scrambled with need. “seeing you all sticky, covered in our cum -fuck- i- i gotta film this, sweets, let me film you, huh?”

a desperate moan falls from your swollen lips when the super soldier pulls away from you, the warmth of his tip no longer pressed into your thighs. in want of your boyfriend, you reach out for him, but he’s already on the other side of the room.

“bucky…” your voice is high and needy, “bucky, baby, come back. i need you.”

his usual arrogant chuckle greets your ears, forcing your thighs closer together to ease the fresh wave of heat flooding your core. you know that laugh, it’s the one he makes whenever you’re drunk on his cock.

bucky crawls back on the bad, hovering over your sweat-sheen body, and brings his phone over your face.

“smile for me, doll.” he orders, the command drawing your brows together in pleasure. you look up at him through your lashes, lids half shut before you focus on the camera.

“there she is.” bucky hums when you grin, albeit tiredly, up at the lens. “tell me how many times i’ve made that sweet little pussy cum, baby. tell the camera.”

“three.” you whine. you watch bucky lower the camera to your dripping cunt as he speaks and start trying to close your legs.

bucky taps your thigh harshly, tutting. “come on, sweets, show your sarge what a mess i’ve made of you.”

his rough palm slides down to your knees and slowly pries them apart, a growl rippling from the base of his throat as you bare yourself to him in submission.

“good girl.”

you keen beneath the camera, pussy throbbing at the praise. a smirk tugs at bucky’s lips while you writhe under him, he knows he’ll enjoy watching that back when he’s on a mission with his hand wrapped around his length.

holding the phone in his vibranium hand, bucky reaches down to run a calloused finger through your glistening folds, the swollen petals quivering at his touch.

“aw, is my sweet princess all sensitive after all those orgasms? huh?”

you claw at his flesh hand, nodding so fast you make yourself even more dizzy than you already are.

“m’so sensitive, sarge, please- pl- oh my god.”

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head before you can finish your sentence as bucky slides a finger into your tight hole. he prays to god that the camera picked up on the squelch of yours and his cum when he pushes inside you.

“fuck, sweets, you’re so goddamn wet, gonna make me nut all over the sheets.” bucky moans, hips rutting against the soft cotton duvet while he works your sex.

sinful sounds echo across the room, bucky’s phone capturing every single thrust of his hand. he adds a second finger, earning a squeal of contest from you.

“no- bucky, i can’t, i cant, it’s too much, please, just one, please.”

your broken pleas do nothing to slow the grind of bucky’s hips against the bed, your whiny voice merely encouraging him to play with his cunt even more.

“yes you can, and you will. you’ve been so good for your sarge so far, haven’t you, princess? tell me how good you’ve been for me.”

you open your mouth to reply, suddenly interrupted by a third finger stretching the walls of your pussy. a gasp falls from your swollen lips and it morphs into a cry of intense pleasure.

“bucky!!!” you scream, accompanied by the sloppy noises of bucky’s palm slapping your wet clit.

“i’m waiting, sweets.”

releasing a small whine, you look down at your boyfriend to find his eyes already on yours.

“i’ve been so good, sarge. just wanted to be a good girl for you, give you all- fuck- all my cum, be your best girl, all drunk on my sarge’s cock and fingers a-and mouth, oh”

his fingers keep curling and hitting that one stop that’s making you see stars and you begin heaving your chest up and down, desperately searching for a breath that would satisfy your needs. bucky turns the camera to your face so he can look back on your writhing body.

“cock’s so hard for you, princess. you’re so fucking beautiful like this, gonna make you cream all over my fingers again and then stuff you full o’ me”

“please sarge, please- ugh- i’m gonna cum!”

“let go sweets, cover me in your sweet juices”

and then you cum and then he cums against the sheets and then he fucks you and the he eats you out and then you clean up his cock with your tongue and then he cleans you up with a cloth and then he runs you a bath and then he holds you till you fall asleep and then a week later on a mission bucky fucks his fist while watching the video and then he cums to it and then he cums to it again and then an hour later he cums to it again and then-

[adayumantium]

Focus

Logan Howlett x fem! reader

A/n: omg my first smut ever. This is monumental. divider by @strangergraphics :)

Summary: fooling around in the middle of the night with a man who you KNOW lovessss to make noise 

W/C: 811

tags/warnings: MDNI!! 18+ CONTENT!!! THIS IS LITERALLY JUST P0RN!!!! Oral (f receiving), terms of endearment (Princess, darling, baby, sweetheart), cursing, love bites, nipple play teehee, vaginal fingering, yktv, Daddy!Logan <3 LOGAN W A PAIN KINK OK BYE

Logan’s favorite time to have sex is in the dead of night- more specifically, waking you up with his head between your thighs. If he can’t sleep, you shouldn’t be allowed to either. He loves to suck on your inner thighs until you groggily grant him more access or tug on his hair. The idea of riling you up, jolting you awake with pure ecstasy is a favorite thought of his, and something about Logan was that he always takes what he wants. 

One particular night, he really, really tried to go back to sleep. Took a lap around the mansion. Watched TV. Nothing, though, could match the way it felt to get drunk on your pussy. Logan padded back to bed, slipping under the sheets. He made his way up, kissing your ankles, your calves, leaving gentle bites on the inside of your thighs. Fuck, he wanted you. 

“Princess,” he mumbled into your legs, “wake up, m’love” he whispered, planting more kisses on your hips. 

“Mmm,” you groaned, trying to hide your smile. 

“I know what you need to get your ass up,” Logan rolled his neck before going back down, lapping at your clit. He took one of his hands and dragged it up your body before pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as it pebbled. The other dragged the opposite way, desperate to feel you. Logan loved feeling how soaked you'd get for him.

“Oh, darlin’, is all this for me?” He smiled as you began to whimper. “You’re so wet for Daddy,” he cooed before latching his mouth back onto you. 

“Lo-” you started, “mm, Daddy, I- fuck,” you moaned as he kissed his way back up your body. His hands continue to wander as his lips explore your ear, your jaw, your neck and face. He tastes so addicting with you both half asleep, lazy and sensual all at once. 

“Does my princess like that?” Logan rasped, slipping a finger inside of you. You can’t help but gasp. “Aw, baby, you like how I fill you up?” he smiles, finger pumping inside of you. You nod, knees buckling as he stretches you out. His touch makes you throw your head back with pleasure, and Logan seizes the opportunity to lick the exposed skin greedily. God, he wanted you. His hands are big, far bigger than yours, and there’s absolutely no feeling that can recreate the way he touches you. “Good,” he nodded slowly, slipping in another. 

You covered your own mouth and tried to suppress another whimper. “Oh, baby, don’t be shy. Everyone’s asleep, it's alright,” he comforted. “In fact, say my name,” he growled, rubbing his thumb against your clit.

“L-L-Logan, fuck,” you managed breathlessly, biting back another moan. 

“Louder, sweetheart. I want this whole mansion to know who you belong to. I want everyone here to know you’re fucking me,” he mumbled, sucking on your neck. 

“Logan, Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you bucked your hips with a grunt, trying to fill yourself up to his knuckles. 

“That’s it, princess. It’s just you and me. Focus on me, okay? There’s no one else here. Just focus on this,” he coached, drawing another sigh out of you with his fingers. “Are you going to cum for me, baby?” 

You whimpered once more, rocking your hips faster. Your fingernails dragged down his bare back, and Logan winced in pleasure with a moan of his own.

“That’s what I like to hear, good, baby. That’s it,” he fucked you with his fingers faster, faster, eyes dark as your hips arched into his hands. Logan loved having you like this, making you his. He loved knowing no one could make you feel how he did. He loved going to sleep next to knowing he keeps you satisfied. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Logan, can I cum?” you begged as your core tightened.

“C’mon, baby. Show me what you’re made of. Don’t be shy all of a sudden,” he teased, starting to suck on your nipple as you climaxed. “Thaaaaat’s it. Focus on me. It’s just us, don’t worry ‘bout a thing” he drew out. 

“Daddy, daddy, oh, fuck. Oh, Lo, oh, mmmmmmhmmm,” you smiled dizzily, slowing your thrusts. Logan smiled into your chest, pulling out his fingers and meeting your eyes as he sucked your juices off his digits. 

“Hi, there, princess. You okay?” he kissed up your body, making his way to your lips. 

“Mmm,” you babbled softly, still coming down from your orgasm. 

“Why don’t you sleep, love,” Logan pulled you into his chest, his warmth and heartbeat steadying you. 

“Mmm?” You questioned sleepily. Your eyes were barely open as you vaguely gestured toward his cock strained against his sweatpants. 

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll make it up t’me in the mornin’,” Logan assured, kissing your head and playing with your hair until you were sound asleep.

[punkshort]

Thank you anon for this request!

Part Two of A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Now that your daughter is born, Joel is itching for another but you are still feeling a little discouraged with the way your body looks. He quickly puts an end to those feelings.

Warnings: language, fluff (absurd amounts), body worship, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!receiving), hand job, breastfeeding (does that need a warning? idk), discussions of pregnancy

WC: 3K

"I want another one, I really mean it."

You dropped your book in your lap and raised your eyebrows at Joel as he stepped into your bedroom and carefully shut the door behind him.

"Are you insane? We just had that one two months ago!" you reminded him.

He frowned at you like he was offended but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Don't call her that one, she's our daughter and her name is Emma," he scolded before yanking off his shirt and making a face when he realized he had spit up on the shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and tossed the covers off your legs. "Why don't we see how we adjust to being parents before we make any big decisions," you suggested as you walked toward your bathroom. Leaving the door open, you splashed water over your face with a little soap before brushing your teeth, all the while completely unaware of the way Joel was sitting on the edge of your bed staring at your bare legs underneath his old shirt, utterly entranced.

"C'mon, we make such perfect babies," he whined when you emerged, grabbing your arm and pulling you to stand between his legs. You smiled and played with the hair around his ear and he hummed, perfectly content, with his hands cupping the backs of your thighs.

"She is pretty perfect, isn't she?"

"Just like her mama," he replied, planting a kiss on your stomach, which was still a little swollen from giving birth. You grimaced and slipped out of his grasp, trying to hide your discomfort, but nothing ever got past him.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head and tucked yourself back under the covers, hiding your body from him. "My stomach..." you began, trailing off before picking up your book to distract yourself. Joel's face filled with worry and he quickly stood.

"Are you in pain? Doc said if there's any pain, you gotta -"

"It's not pain," you told him while pretending to focus on your book.

"Then what?"

Joel tossed his dirty shirt into the hamper before stepping out of his jeans. Your eyes drifted over his body while he put on his pajamas and your discomfort grew when you thought about how your own body now looked.

"It's just... it's not the same as before."

"What's not the same?" he asked, tugging a shirt over his head and padding over to his side of the bed.

"My stomach," you said quietly. "My hips. My thighs. Fucking... everything."

Joel paused, his expression softening as he watched you pretend like it didn't bother you as much as it did, but he saw the look in your eye and knew better.

"Baby," he whispered, leaning over and pinching your chin between his fingers so you would look at him. "You're perfect. Don't you dare for one second think badly 'bout the body that grew our little girl." He pressed a tender kiss against your lips before drawing back, his deep brown eyes flickering quickly between your own.

"I just don't feel like myself," you admitted, leaning into his touch.

"That's alright," he assured you, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You will again one day."

"You promise?" you asked, blinking away the tears that were beginning to build.

He smiled and nodded before kissing the tip of your nose. "'Course, I promise."

His hand slid around your waist and tugged you closer with his palm laid flat against your lower back. "Don't think I ever thanked you properly for givin' me our little girl," he murmured, slipping his tongue past your lips. You circled your arms around his neck and allowed yourself to relax into his hold. "Did so fuckin' good, darlin', y'know that?" he whispered in between kisses. "So fuckin' brave, so strong..." His hand drifted further down to squeeze your ass and you giggled. "Can I show you how thankful I am? Will you let me? Hm?"

"Joel," you mumbled when his mouth grazed over your throat. "We can't, you know that."

He hummed and shifted around so your back was pressed against your headboard. "Oh, I know. But there's one thing I can do."

He shimmied down the mattress until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses all down your front, through your shirt. When he reached the apex of your thighs he glanced up at you for permission. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded and his face lit up before hooking his fingers around your underwear and peeling them off. Much to your relief, he didn't ask to remove your shirt, and it wouldn't be until much later you would realize he did it for your benefit; so you would feel comfortable and relaxed.

At first, you were nervous, knowing full well you likely didn't look the same down there either, but when you heard a deep groan rumble through his chest before licking a lazy stripe through your folds, your fears began to melt away.

You sighed and leaned back into the pillows, letting your legs fall open and your eyes slide shut while he lapped slowly at your pussy with the occasional moan. His mouth felt so fucking good and his beard burned the insides of your thighs just right that you could feel yourself floating away.

"God, Joel," you rasped. Your fingers began to twist around his curls and he smiled because he could feel your tension and stress melting away under his tongue.

"Taste so good, baby," he said, voice all thick and gravelly. The sound sent a tremor through your body and your mouth fell open when he flattened his tongue over your clit in fast circles. You accidentally pulled too roughly on his hair and he groaned, eyelids fluttering while he pressed his hips into the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief.

He had to keep reminding himself not to slip his tongue or fingers inside you, the doctor's warning to wait echoing somewhere in the back of his mind and he would never, ever do anything to potentially cause you harm. All he wanted to do, all he wanted to ever do was make you feel good. But he knew things would be different for a while, and that was okay. Different didn't mean worse. Different just meant... different.

"More," you moaned, hips bucking upwards. His tongue moved faster over your clit until his eyes flashed open and caught you watching him with your chest heaving and your gaze dark with desire. He smirked before puckering his lips and latching onto your clit, suckling and flicking the tip of his tongue until you were a writhing mess under him. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans and it only encouraged him to eat at you faster, grab at your thighs tighter, rut his hips harder until your body finally tensed and stilled while your climax ripped through you.

He pulled away from you with a gasp, kneeling before you with his cock impossibly hard as he watched you catch your breath. Your limbs were all loose and weak and your legs were spread wide, shiny with your arousal. Your eyes flickered down to the bulge in his pants and you scrambled up, joining him in the center of the bed on your knees as you reached for the waistband of his pajama pants.

"No, sweetheart, that's not -"

"I know," you said, cutting him off and pushing his pants down to his mid-thigh. Your lips latched onto his while your fingers curled around his cock, setting a quick pace straight away. He groaned into your mouth and cupped your face, thrusting into your hand, both of you on your knees for each other with your legs trembling.

"Feel what you do to me, little mama?" he growled as he nipped and bit at your chin. "Ain't nothin' ever gonna change that. Y'hear me?"

You nodded and moved your wrist even faster between you. You could feel his stomach tense against your forearm and you smirked to yourself, knowing he was just seconds away.

"So hard for me, Joel," you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. "Can't wait til you can fuck me again. Can't wait to feel you inside me... god, you always feel so good."

He whined and grabbed ahold of your shoulder so he could steady himself. His gasp morphed into a groan against your skin when he came. His spend trickled down your hand, all warm and sticky, then his body sagged with relief.

"Christ," he mumbled weakly before looking down at the mess between your bodies.

"Hold on," you told him, sliding off the bed so you could snatch your underwear from the ground and rinse your hand off in the sink before bringing back a wet washcloth he could clean up with.

"Thank you, darlin'," he said, swiping at his lower abdomen. Once he felt he was clean enough, he tossed the rag on top of his shirt in the hamper and collapsed next to you in bed with a heavy sigh. "Didn't have to do that, y'know."

"I know," you replied, turning on your side and tossing your leg over his waist. You nuzzled into his side and smiled when he pulled you closer. You laid together quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet before Emma woke up demanding milk and a change.

"You take as long as you need, baby," Joel said, breaking the silence. You tilted your head up to look at him questioningly. "Til you feel like yourself again," he explained, then began to lovingly rub his thumb over your shoulder. "Even when the doc gives us the all clear, I want you to know I wanna wait til you're ready, alright? Just know I love you no matter what."

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his chest, unable to respond with the right words to express how happy he made you and how loved you felt.

"So another one, huh?" you asked. He grinned and nodded excitedly.

"Emma told me today she wants a sister."

"She told you?" you giggled.

"Yep. Was talkin' 'bout it before bed. Told her what a great job her mama did makin' her and how much fun it'd be to have a little brother or sister. And, y'know," he said with a dramatic sigh. "She wasn't on board at first, either, but I told her there's plenty of love to go 'round, that she don't need to be so greedy."

"Who woulda thought," you teased, poking him in the chest. "Joel Miller has a certified case of baby fever."

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "It's all your fault. You're the one who started all this."

"I know. Just couldn't help myself, I guess. Now look at us."

Joel turned onto his side and pulled you flush against his chest. "Yeah, now look at us." He leaned down and captured your lips with his, cupping your face gently and taking your breath away. "Happy little family," he added once he pulled back, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek as he gazed down at you adoringly.

You bit your lip and gave him a sly look. "We did have a lot of fun trying, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah," he quickly agreed. "I do miss you knockin' down my door lookin' for me to fill you up all nice 'n good. Made me feel like a prize winnin' bull, the way you were clamorin' to take a ride."

You gave him a mock look of horror and slapped his chest, making him laugh so deep, you could feel it.

"I was not clamoring!"

"Oh, like hell you weren't!" he said, making you both laugh with how passionate he was about it. His arm wrapped around your waist so he could tug you against his hips. "You couldn't get enough. Damn near hauled me outta the bar by my collar one night, you remember that?"

You could feel your face grow hot and your laughter quickly died down at the mention of that night. Joel looked at you curiously, wondering what he said wrong.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked meekly.

He nodded slowly with one eyebrow raised.

"That night at the bar," you began, dropping your eyes to fixate on a shirt stain. "I maybe wasn't..."

Joel had a feeling he knew where you were going with it but he couldn't help himself, he just had to hear it.

"What, baby?"

You groaned and flipped onto your back so you could stare at the ceiling when you said, "I maybe wasn't ovulating that day."

A huge grin broke out across his face and he rolled on top of you, caging you in. "I fuckin' knew it! That new girl was talkin' to me and all the sudden you came outta nowhere sayin' you needed help with your goddamn plumbing."

Admittedly, the excuse you had used was a little too on the nose, but you brushed it off.

"Yeah, okay, fine," you said, reaching around behind him to squeeze his ass. "So maybe I didn't want anyone messing with my bull."

He groaned and followed it up with a terrible impression of a bull's snort before diving into the crook of your neck, sending you into a fit of giggles.

"Makes sense now," he mumbled against your skin. "You were so fuckin' greedy that night, had my head spinnin' like a goddamn top the next day."

"Yeah, that was a good night, wasn't it?" you agreed, tilting your head back so he could access your neck a little easier. He hummed and latched onto a spot behind your ear, causing warmth to pool low in your belly once again. When you lifted your hips to grind against his thigh, he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Easy, darlin'," he warned.

"I know, I just miss you so much," you whimpered, grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up so you could kiss him. And just when his tongue dove into your mouth and his fingers began to rub lightly at the outside of your underwear, a familiar cry rang out from the bedroom across the hall.

"I got it," he said immediately, but you shook your head.

"She's hungry, I gotta do it," you told him. He relented and rolled back to his side of the bed so you could get up and hurry into Emma's room.

You shushed her as you picked her up carefully from her crib, swaying your body back and forth as you walked to the rocking chair. You lifted your shirt for her and Emma instantly quieted down when she latched onto your breast. Once silence filled the air again, you leaned back into the chair and sighed. Knowing full well you would be stuck in her room for the next half an hour, at least, you plucked a pillow and blanket from the floor with your free hand and maneuvered them around yourself to get more comfortable. Once you were satisfied, you glanced down at your daughter and smiled when you caught her watching you intently with very big, serious brown eyes that were the spitting image of her father's.

"So what do you think, sweet girl?" you murmured softly, rocking back and forth in the chair. "You talking to your daddy about a little sibling behind my back? I thought we were a team, you're supposed to be on my side."

All you got in return was a little gurgle but she appeared to be listening and enjoying the vibration from your voice, so you kept talking.

"I don't know, maybe it's not a bad idea," you told her. "I think I just get a little nervous because it took so long to have you, I get worried it might be next to impossible again."

Her eyes began to droop a little and you smiled.

"Then again, you are pretty perfect. And perfection takes time. Besides," you lowered your voice just in case Joel could hear, "I don't think your daddy would mind if it took a little while again."

When Emma fell asleep with that ridiculous milk-drunk expression you had grown to love so much, you quietly changed her and tucked her back into bed before tiptoeing out of her room and back across the hall.

Your bedside lamp was still on but Joel had fallen asleep sitting up with his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a book dangling from his hand. You smiled and slipped the book away, lying it face down and open on his bedside table before carefully removing his glasses.

"What're you doin'?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"You're asleep," you whispered before turning out your light and slipping under the sheets.

"No, I ain't. Was just restin' my eyes til you got back."

"Uh huh," you teased. When he laid down flat, he held out an arm for you and you quickly nuzzled into his side with your own arm wrapping loosely around his waist. You took a deep breath, inhaling his distinct and comforting scent before closing your eyes.

After a few quiet moments where you thought he had fallen back sleep, he surprised you by speaking again.

"So, she convince you to have another?"

You grinned and burrowed your face deeper into his side. "Maybe."

He made a pleased noise and kissed the top of your head.

"She made a good argument," you said.

"That she did."

You let the silence envelop you for another moment before adding, "Maybe in a few months we can give it a try. No pressure this time, just... if it happens, it happens."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Joel said happily.

And although you had just said you didn't want to put too much pressure on it, you fell asleep dreaming up baby names, anyway.

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[grandline-fics]

Oou can you do one piece men catching you in their clothes?? I've always liked this trope (?) cause i just find it so cute especially one who have like giant coats and capes like coras :D

DESCRIPTION: They catch you wearing their clothes

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff. established relationship with Crocodile. Mutual crush in Cora's/Rosi's

CHARACTERS: Crocodile, Corazon

WORDS: 1,749

A/N: Thank you for this request! I'm a sucker for this trope. Since no specific characters were requested I went for Cora and Croc because of the big coats. If you'd like any other characters for this idea just let me know! This was my first time writing for Cora so hopefully I did him justice and that you're happy with the end results for these.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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CROCODILE

You admired Crocodile for his rigid work ethic and extreme focus, always making sure everything was done perfectly and without error. Even in the days of running a casino simply to act as a cover for his real dealings in Alabasta he made sure it was run smoothly and properly. However sometimes his hard work interfered with any time you two could actually spend together because of how focussed he'd become. You never needed to bring this up to him because when he did have the time to tear himself away from his work it was you he immediately sought and would comment about how much he’d been away from you. You were more than used to his behaviour by now. However one afternoon as you leant against the doorframe and watched him work diligently a curious thought that you’d never really considered before crept into your mind; what would pull his focus and make Crocodile immediately stop working?

At first you decided to start small, bringing him lunch and set it on his desk, watching as he murmured a thanks and managed to perfectly skewer the sandwich with his hook and ate it without any spilling out. As he ate, his eyes remained on the paperwork he was writing. With pursed lips you stepped behind his chair and slowly draped your arm around his shoulder. Your hand settled on his chest just as he finished eating. “Hey, love. Can-?”

“Anything you want.” Crocodile’s response was automatic and his body was still unmoving from his work. You couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, that Crocodile's want to give you anything you desired managed to break partially through his focus but it wasn't the real break in attention you wanted. 

You weren’t even going to initially ask him for anything in particular, just a mundane question to see if he'd answer. Now though he'd practically given you permission for anything you could think of. Smiling you pressed a quick kiss against his cheek and straightened, your fingers skimming against the large fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders as you did so and suddenly an idea came to you. With casual strides you made your way to your shared room with Crocodile and threw open the doors to his wardrobe. Your eyes roamed over his clothes with appreciation, everything made with the best quality materials by the finest tailors. Sometimes you felt hesitant to touch such finery but not today, he'd given you permission after all. Immediately your eyes went to your favourite coat he owned. The deep black fabric and matching fur trim were simple but striking and with the gold buttons and dark green satin lining it was just enough to draw anyone's eye. 

With a hum you slipped the coat on and grinned in the mirror at how the garment wrapped around you. It was so long on you that it trailed behind you. Leaving the room you walked back down the corridor, trying not to enjoy how his coat billowed behind you. It made sense know why he wore them now. You glanced up to see you were nearing his office and you decided that first you were going to simply walk by the open door. However you were no sooner passed the doorway when a gust of sand appeared and wrapped around your waist, lifting you off of your feet and pulling you backwards and into the room with the door closing behind you. Perched on Crocodile’s desk you stared at your lover as he sat back in his seat, watching you intently and his paperwork abandoned. “Care to explain?”

“Was curious.” You shrugged with a triumphant smile, having succeeded your goal.

“About?” 

“Wondered what it’d take to distract you from your work.”

“Dear, just because I’m looking at my work doesn't mean I’m never aware of your presence.” Crocodile explained as he gently took hold of the lapel of his coat that you were wearing and pulled you closer. Usually he loved the sight of you out of clothes but he had to admit seeing you in something of his only deepened his feelings of possessiveness, an extra claim that you were his   not that that was ever in doubt. “I will admit this is a sight I could get used to, although I think my work would certainly suffer as a result.”

“Still not seeing a downside to this.” You grinned up at him with a smug smile as you settled your hand over his. “I’m keeping this one by the way.”

“My love, it’s a commissioned make. No other exists. Wouldn’t you settle for your own? One that fits you better?” He was mostly teasing. Of course if your heart was set on it he wouldn’t object but would still plan on stealing it from you should the occasion call for it.

“I think this one suits me just fine but I'll be kind and share but only if I’m repaid with a kiss.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

CORAZON / ROSINANTE

Rosinante stared out at the wintery expanse blankly, his dark eyes set on the people bustling about in the town below. They were used to the terrain, born and raised on the winter dominated island. With it being a day with light snowfall and cracks of blue appearing in the sky the people seemed in lighter spirits. Nice to see but it made his task of observing a possible threat harder. It was rare to have a mission set for him by his brother also overlap and bring some good for the Marines too but they did happen. If this man did prove himself to be a danger, he’d be dealt with swiftly and it’d be one less criminal in the world. Doffy would be satisfied too, not that that particular aspect would be a big factor in his actions but it would mean his undercover role would remain intact.

He blinked out of his concentration when the cigarette in his mouth was promptly stolen from his painted lips and he looked to see you stub it out into the snow with a low fizzle. Rosinante said nothing and continued to observe you as you settled onto the flattened patch of snow beside him. Feeling his stare you met his gaze and smiled sweetly. “Don't pout. I’m just looking out for your health here. Any movement?” 

At your question, Rosinante activated his power to create the soundproof area for you both. While you were both concealed from the view of others he never liked to take any chances of your conversations to be heard. With you here, your own cover was just as at risk as his should the wrong person find out and the last thing he wanted was to put you in danger even though you too had given your life to that of a double agent and spy. “Nothing yet.”

Getting to hear Rosinante’s deep voice always made you happy, part of you always thought he might be lonely in some strange way in having to remain silent in order to keep his true role a secret. It also made you happy because it meant you were someone he trusted in revealing his voice too, and what a lovely voice it was too. Such a shame practically no-one got to hear it. Knowing your roles and what you were here to do, you both kept conversation to a minimum, Rosinante using his notepad to make longer notes to you while also keeping the feathers of his coat in front of his mouth to hide his minimal verbal responses just in case someone should spot you both and see his lips moving.

For ages you both sat and fulfilled your watch until you both noticed the sun setting. Still no further forward in confirmation of the threat and his rumoured weapons smuggling from his store, you both knew that you’d have another day of investigating ahead of you. With a tired groan you stood and finally took note of how cold and numb your limbs were because of the snow. Smiling you offered your hand to your partner and helped him get to his feet. 

However his unfortunately chronic clumsiness finally reared its head and Rosinante tumbled over, knocking you back down onto the untouched snow pile away from where you'd both been sitting in and now you were soaked and your body immediately began to tremble. With chattering teeth and shaking hands you allowed yourself to be pulled out of the snow by a very apologetic Rosinante who'd managed to stay dry. You could barely brush the excess snow off of yourself and seeing your struggle, your mission partner stepped in, dusting you off as gently as possible but only kept his movements reserved for your head and shoulders. As much as he’d known his attraction for you, he refused to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable regardless of how innocent his intentions were. He just knew he’d need to get you warm fast to avoid you getting sick.

You’d never been more happy to step into the room at the inn you and Rosinante were sharing, making a beeline for the bathroom to shower and get warm. When you were changed into fresh clothes you felt the difference but the chill still clung to your body and you shivered harshly as you stepped out into the room, confused to see Rosinante was gone but the fire in the room was burning with his feather coat hanging near it. Swiftly you hurried forward and bundled the coat into your arms to avoid another accident from occurring. With a sigh and shake of your head you went to set his coat on his bed only to pause when you felt how soft and warm it was. Unable to resist you pulled it on and curled up in one of the armchairs. Finally feeling your body heat you sighed in satisfaction.

Rosinante returned not long after with an extra blanket that he’d been searching for under his arm. He froze at the sight and his heart involuntarily began to beat faster. Seeing you so peaceful and wrapped up in his clothes it was more than he could bear. He didn’t think his affection and attraction for you could grow anymore but it did and from such a simple thing. It made him all the more resolved to ensure that he would keep you safe.

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[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ Peaky ⇢ *- Giving Them Head -* ⇠ Blinders ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) multiple characters x reader

⇾ Summary: Peaky blinders characters reaction to you giving them head.

⇾ Warnings: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving) rough (head shoving, hip thrusting) use of pet names, semi public, exhibition? Degrading words.

Aberama Gold:

⇾ Aberama felt the need to be sweet and gentle with your pretty young mouth.

⇾ He’d guide you along with soft words of encouragement, letting you know what you should do.

⇾ “There you go, my love…” or “your doing so good f’me.”

⇾ He’d be relaxed against the chair or bed he was sitting on, arms out behind him as he watched you through hooded eyes.

⇾ His eyes would never stray away from you face.

⇾ Aberama loved the way you looked giving him head, he liked watching as your eyes either watered after so long, or fluttered closed in order to not distract yourself.

⇾ Besides from speaking, I can’t imagine him being very vocal, other than letting out quiet grunts that would edge you along.

⇾ You would make it your mission to try and get a moan or at least a groan from him, but it was proven to be very difficult.

-

It wasnt often that you and Aberama got to have privacy, but when you did you made sure to enjoy the time and make it worth while.

As soon as you both got time alone, you immediately dropped to your knees after pushing him down into the chair in your shared caravan and before you knew it, your lips were wrapped around his length.

He watched lovingly as your head bobbed up and down on his cock, enjoying the way you took your time in order to draw out his orgasm.

Aberama would let his eyes shut briefly before opening them again once he realized so he could focus on on your face. He watched as your eyes squinted the more you took him into your mouth. “S’alright, love. Don’t have to go all the way.” He would breath out, brushing away a strand of hair that fell before your eyes, covering your expression from his watchful gaze.

“Feels so good.” He’d rest his hand on your cheek, caressing lightly as you continued.

Once he’d cum, he’d help you up to your feet, letting you sit down in the chair. “Take care of me so well, don’t ya?”

Ada Shelby:

⇾ At first she would be shy, biting her lip to contain her moans, nervous to have her legs spread for you, covering her face whenever she’d be embarrassed.

⇾ After the first couple of times of giving her head, she would begin to open up to you literally…

⇾ Ada would be more open to trying things with you until she learns how much she enjoys your head in her thighs with her hands in your hair.

⇾ She constantly would be tugging and pulling at your hair to guide you in the position she wants you in.

⇾ There is no such thing as teasing Ada Shelby.

⇾ Her sweet moans would fill the room, encouraging you to do more with your mouth and tongue.

⇾ You’d swirl your tongue around her little bud which would send a string of moans to exit her lips while she would grind against your mouth.

-

“Y/n!” Your tongue flicked her clit repetitively before returning to her hole. Slurping sounds could be heard from down below as you sucked on her pussy, encouraging her orgasm the more you continued.

Your hands found her stomach as she arched off the bed, holding her down. Once you were certain she wouldn’t lift her hips again, your hand would trail up her stomach to her chest, squeezing gently at her tits before pinching her nipples, causing higher pitched moans to fall out of her mouth.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her reactions making her tug roughly at your hair, this time earning a moan in response from you at the feeling of roughness from the girl beneath you.

“I’m…” she trailed off, eyes rolling back as she breathed heavily, “I’m close, love.” She would moan.

This time, you allowed for her to grind herself against your mouth, letting Ada use you to get herself off.

Her hips would stutter as an orgasm washed over you until she rode out her high and was breathless against the bed.

Arthur Shelby:

⇾ Arthur was notorious for being very rough in bed, and you’d expect nothing less when it came to giving him head.

⇾ Depending on how experienced you were, he’d be nice at first (not shoving your head, not thrusting his hips)

⇾ But once he was certain that you were used to sucking his cock, was when Arthur Shelby would truly come out.

⇾ Arthur would be relentless with the way he’d fuck himself with your mouth, practically using you as a warm hole to satisfy his needs.

⇾ Obsessed with making you gag.

⇾ He’d even enjoy the feeling of your teeth lightly grazing his length.

⇾ Not afraid to make noises, especially when it came to grunting. He had nothing to be ashamed of, after all it wasn’t him that was being fucked.

⇾ If he wasn’t using his hips (if he was sitting down) he’d guide you by your head, holding you down and making you take everything.

⇾ If you weren’t swallowing his cum afterwards, than you were doing something wrong.

-

You were struggling to breathe through your nose as you were held all the way down until he was balls deep in your mouth.

Sounds of gagging could be heard as you were forced to choke around his cock. “Keep going love, fuck me.”

Once he finally loosened his hold, you would pull yourself of his dick, breathing heavily as you used your hand to get him off while you recovered.

He’d smile down at you, loving the tears that trickled down your cheeks. “Almost there, sweetheart.” Arthur would groan.

You would sit on your knees, mouth wide opened as Arthur finished himself off, waiting expectantly.

And as his cum hits your tongue, you would immediately swallow it whole, knowing that if you didn’t then it would be a long day for everyone.

Bonnie Gold:

⇾ Bonnie is a mixture, he gives me very soft dom vibes. Like he could be rough, but in a gentle way.

⇾ He’s not shy about what he wants and after your comfortable in the relationship than he won’t be afraid to ask certain things from you, so long as their within your boundaries.

⇾ While Bonnie is (in my head) a giver more than a receiver, he does thoroughly enjoy the times you give him head.

⇾ He doesn’t expect you to take all of him, nor does he push your head down, but he will rest a hand in your hair, simply just holding it there for comfort.

⇾ He is a man that loves to have his balls fondled with, so if you give him head while you softly massage his balls then he might just burst within mere seconds of you touching him.

⇾ Ensures that your having a good time as well, 69….

⇾ Doesn’t expect you to swallow his cum… unless of course you want to.

⇾ Bonnie is definitely a vocal guy, not afraid to praise you and not afraid to be loud depending on who could potentially be around.

⇾ If his family’s around then he will try to be quiet for your sake, but if it’s other Peaky Blinders than he tends to be louder, for his sake in order to let everyone know what they’re missing out on.

-

You couldn’t help yourself after watching Bonnie once again win another boxing fight with ease, he was just too hot for you to handle.

As soon as he entered the changing rooms you had practically jumped in, smothering him in kisses before helping him clean up any wounds or blood before getting straight to business.

This time he didn’t bother trying to stop you like he normally would, as a matter of fact, he watched with excitement as you dropped to your knees and pulled out his length, immediately placing it in your mouth.

You hummed around his cock as he called out your name, feeling a sense of pride wash over from his reaction.

“You’re perfect…” he slurred, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming pleasure.

He had his hands fisted by his sides before eventually they crept up to your head as he held your hair back and out of the way for you. “Love you.” He groaned, stuttering in the slightest as your hands met his balls.

His hips jerked unintentionally and a string of ‘sorrys’ could be heard from the moaning man. “I’m gonna cum, love.”

He wasn’t able to protest to you allowing for him to cum in your mouth as he was hit with his orgasm, body tensing at the feeling rushing through him.

Finn Shelby:

⇾ My shy boy.

⇾ He’d like to pretend he knows exactly what’s going to happen and that he’s tough like his brothers to not be seen as weak (for example moaning etc)

⇾ But the second your tongue touches his tip, Finn is a wreck.

⇾ Definitely cums in mere seconds the first time, but he’d learn eventually.

⇾ Doesn’t like being rough with you, despite his brothers encouraging him to be as rough as possible, he likes knowing your having a good time as well.

⇾ Will always give you head in return.

⇾ A bit ashamed of being very vocal, tries to keep it to minimal groans, not often moans and a lot of suppressed grunts.

⇾ Doesn’t say much other than your name and ‘fuck’ when he groans.

⇾ Likes to cum on your face rather than directly in your mouth.

-

Finn was on his last straws as he attempted to draw his orgasm out, he didn’t want to cum to quick like the last time.

His bottom lip was between his teeth, his back was pressed against the bed as he avoided watching you go to work on his cock, knowing he would burst as soon as he opened his eyes to look at you.

He hissed as he felt your nails dig into his thighs as you pushed yourself further down his length, the sounds of you choking around him being his final straw.

Finn sat up with haste, shoving your head off of him right as his cum started to trickle out.

He jerked himself off over your face, eyes locked on the way you opened up wide for him, tongue waiting patiently for his seed.

“Fuck…” he groaned, squeezing out the last drop.

He breathed heavily as he laid back down on the bed, chest rising up and down. “Your turn now.” He smirked, watching as you laid beside him.

And just like that, he was up and ready to go again.

Isaiah Jesus:

⇾ An absolute whore of a man, but I love him so it’s okay.

⇾ Has high expectations for what he wants and what you should do for him.

⇾ A man of teasing.

⇾ Will happily deny himself of pleasure if it mean my teasing you with his cock.

⇾ Likes to embarrass you and will make you beg to suck him off. “What do ya’ say, sweetheart?” Or “beg for it.”

⇾ Not a head pusher but a hip thruster on occasion, but most the time he likes to just leave you to do all the work.

⇾ Isaiah definitely brags about your skills to his mates, wants everyone to know what they’re missing out on.

⇾ Tells other women that offer themselves to him that they can’t suck his cock as well as his partner can.

⇾ Teases you about it in front of his friends and is definitely into having you suck him off in a relatively public area.

-

“Please, Isaiah,” you begged, lips pouting as you stared at his cock that he held in the grasp of his hand, shaking it and teasing it in front of your face. “I’ll be good,” you told him, reaching a hand up only for him to smack it away.

“Can’t hear ya’, love. Try again,” he smirked, watching you with amusement in his eyes as your pleading.

The whine that escaped your lips had him tapping the tip of his cock on your lips, tongue darting out to taste the tiny bit of precum that stayed on your bottom lips.

“Please, Isaiah,” you tried again, “I want your cock…” you trailed, mouth watering at the sight of his veiny dick being teased in front of your eyes.

“Alright, open up,” your mouth opened immediately, eyes closing as you awaited the warm pressure to hit your tongue, to which you immediately moaned at the feeling. “There ya’ go…” he hissed as your mouth closed around his dick.

Isaiah groaned as he felt the vibrations through his cock from you moaning around him, enjoying the feeling and taste on your tongue. “Such a little whore for my cock, aren’t ya’?”

John Shelby:

⇾ Like Isaiah, he is very cocky and likes to hear you beg for his dick, gives him a little power trip every time.

⇾ Wont move at all, likes to make you do all the work so he can watch you desperately trying to get him off.

⇾ Sits back, hands behind his head and relaxes while you do all the work for him.

⇾ Expects you to suck him off whenever he’s horny, especially if you’re out in public.

⇾ Will pull you to a private area and expect you to get on your knees for him.

⇾ “Come on, on your knees.”

⇾ Will watch you with a smug smirk on his face.

⇾ Expects you to look at him when you suck him off.

-

Your knees pressed harshly on the stone cold floor of the Garrison bathroom, your hands were placed on John’s thighs as you took him down your throat, head bobbing back and forth.

“Look so pretty f’me. Cock shoved down your throat.” John cooed, smirking down at you as he teased you. “You can take a little more, can’t ya’?”

You nodded your head to the best of your ability, humming around his length as you pushed him further in. “There you go.”

You knew he wouldn’t move, he much preferred letting you do all the work while he laid back and relaxed, but you still couldn’t help placing your hands on his thighs in a way of holding him back.

You kept moving your head, taking his dick in your mouth, feeling the warmth of him weighing down on his tongue. He was getting closer, you knew he was based off the way he grew restless.

You paused as his release came, and it was then that he held your head down, keeping you as close as possible as he shot his load down your throat.

Michael Gray:

⇾ doesn’t often want a bj, most of the time he just wants to fuck and prefers to do so, nothing to do with your skills, just a personal preference of his.

⇾ But when he does, depending on what kind of work day it is, he makes sure your entirely comfortable, won’t push your head down, won’t move his hips.

⇾ But if it’s one of those stressful days where it seems everything’s against him, best believe he will take out his stress on you.

⇾ If you tease him or do something to annoy him, best believe he will give you attitude back, and if you ask him then he will call you names.

⇾ Is a people pleaser so he will do whatever you want him to do, even if it requires being a bit mean to you.

-

It started off slow and passionate, you had been taking his length in your mouth, enjoying yourself as you sucked him off, but you couldn’t help but begin to feel a bit bored, as Michael had seemed distracted.

You did what you had to do, gave him a bit of lip before Michael was returning back the same attitude, using his ‘boss’ tone on you.

“Go on then, you want me to cum? Then fucking make me cum.” He growled, tapping the tip of his dick against your bottom lip as you whined. “S’all your good for.” He didn’t mean it, you know he didn’t, but boy did it turn you on.

You placed him back into your mouth, this time feeling a lot more enthusiastic, moving at a quicker pace. “Much better, eh? Don’t have to listen to you speak now.”

Thomas Shelby:

⇾ not nice at all, never nice.

⇾ Will force his cock down your throat, and won’t feel bad about it.

⇾ Like Arthur, he is obsessed with hearing you gag around his size, doesn’t think it’s good unless he hears you.

⇾ Would sit at his desk doing work while you suck him off, or if he’s having a meeting with someone over the phone.

⇾ The only time he won’t forced your head down is if you’re sucking him off under the table with one of his business partners sat opposite him.

⇾ Likes to watch you squirm so he will speak of you in front of his family or just other people in general with absolutely no shame.

-

You moved slowly, bobbing your head at a rate where you wouldn’t be choking around his size. Tommy was having a meeting with some man about business, but even that couldn’t stop him from denying his needs.

He ordered you to his office and demanded you sat under his desk while he conducted business with the stranger.

You lifted your head up, prepared to give yourself a breather while you stroked him up, but all of a sudden, Tommy had shoved your head down, clearing his throat and making some noise in order to cover the sound of you gagging. “You can have 5% and I’ll give you a bottle of my whiskey.”

You could hardly hear the response of the man over the sound of your own gargling, but you knew he wouldn’t be happy with deal. Tommy let your head move, but ensured that your lips stayed wrapped around his cock. You paused your movement, using this time to breath through your nose whilst your hand fondled with his balls.

Suddenly you were let up for air, breathing heavily, when Tommy slid out from his desk. “Come on, out you get.” He moved out of your way. “When I come back, I want you bent over this desk.”

[slytherinshua]

DID WE JUST FALL IN LOVE ?

genre. fluff. meet cute. warnings. reader owns fish. profanity. reader's thoughts are in italics. the number in this is completely made up btw i just thought of random numbers ksjdks. not proofread. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 762. request. requested by @lxvemaze. a/n. i literally wrote this like in 30 min IDK IT JUST CLICKED SKDJKSD. i love leehan. net. @onedoornet

You let out a satisfied sigh as the library doors slid open for you. It had been days since you had placed a request for a fish carebook from your local library, and finally it had come in today. Googling what to do to help your new pet angelfish wasn’t giving you the answers you needed. You were nearly positive that your sweet little baby was getting bullied by your tiger barbs, and weren’t sure what to do. You had already transferred her to a separate smaller tank until you read up on what to do, and you hoped desperately that the library had the fish guide you were looking for.

You scanned the shelves, fingers running across the spines of the manuals in the animal section: aquatic guides. Huffing, you let your eyes draw up to the shelf above, failing to find the care book for injured fish. You should’ve bought a copy when you first became a fish parent, but you hadn’t expected there to be so little answers online for your specific problem. 

With brightened eyes, you spotted the spine of the book you wanted; blue and purple swirling colours on the cover just as you remembered. The Care and Keeping of Angelfish: A Beginner’s Guide. You reached out to grab it, only to collide with someone’s else's hand instead.

“Sorry!” You quickly apologised, retracting your hand bowing your head slightly. Your eyes drew up to the man whose hand you had bumped, now holding the book you needed. Worry flooded your brain��� you needed that book. You had already waited days for it. Leaving without it would mean more days blindly giving your angelfish medicine without a proper answer. 

But, as you finally focused on the man’s face, suddenly your fish situation was the last thing on your mind. You blinked, almost as if to see if you were really seeing things correctly. Did you just run into an angel at the library?

“No, I’m sorry— I should’ve seen you reaching for it. Here.” He stumbled over his words, awkwardly handing you the manual. You could barely focus on anything except his face. He was so… beautiful. 

“You’re… really hot…” You whispered. Realising what you had just let out, your cheeks burned and you turned around hurriedly. With the book in your hand and embarrassment pouring down on you like a ton of bricks, you scurried over to the checkout. Scanning your library card and the book, you tried to get out as fast as possible before the man had time to question why you had just said that to him.

You groaned, the screen lagging a bit and not letting you press the ‘DONE’ button. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the flash of colour from the shirt he was wearing. Oh, fuck, he was coming back.

“Wait— you think I’m hot?” He asked, jogging up to the checkout where you were. 

Shit, now the cute guy knows of my existence. You froze, trying to think of an acceptable defense for your earlier words but coming up with absolutely nothing.

“Uh, I— It just slipped out— I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You rushed out, gripping the book tighter and wishing you could just sink into the floor. God, why did he have to be cute?

“You like fish? Right?” He cocked his head to the side, eyes focused on the book in your hand. You hesitantly nodded, realising that there was no way you could leave this conversation without seeming even ruder. 

“Yeah, I have some pet fish, actually, so…” You trailed off, pointing to the door, hoping that he would piece together that it was your way of saying you had to leave and go back to your fish.

“101-422-5730.” He interjected. 

“Huh?”

“101-422-5730. My number.” He repeated, “By the way, I don’t think putting your angelfish with tiger barbs was the best decision. They don’t like each other.” 

Your eyes widened. How did he…?

“How did you know that I have tiger barbs?” You blinked, wondering if this was what love felt like. Something about him felt… right. Maybe you didn’t regret your slip up before after all. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

He shrugged, “You just seemed like you would.”

You reached for your phone in your back pocket. 101-422-5730… He watched you enter the numbers, finger hovering over the ‘contact name’ section.

“Kim Donghyun.” He supplied, giving you a small smile. Hell, even his smile is cute as fuck.

“Donghyun. I’ll… I’ll call you.”

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

@schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @blossominghunnie,,

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@nonononranghaee

[sugurusbabygirl]

can you do a choso smut where he’s the sluttiest virgin in the world. like so slutty that he jerks off to the reader constantly and when he finally fucks her he gets all whiny and needy and overstimulated

(luv you!)

I may have gotten a little carried away….

this has been on my mind for DAYS

(luv you too babes <3 )

He shouldn’t feel so guilty about it. You guys have been together for a couple weeks, so it’s fine, right? He wants to go at your pace, it was his idea. He didn’t want to rush you—but he just couldn’t help it.

You were so adorable laying all over him while you both watch a movie. Smiling and laughing away, all you did was innocently set your hand on his thigh to give him a loving squeeze. He hated how hard it made him. He couldn’t focus on the movie, excusing himself to the bathroom. He was quick—he learned to be so you wouldn’t get suspicious. Thinking about you sliding your hand up the palm him through his pants. How good it would feel to pull you into his lap and fuck you dumb.

You left a pair of underwear in his laundry once, by accident. A thin, stringy little purple thong. They were clean, so it wasn’t weird, right? He wasn’t some depraved pervert.

Oh, but he was.

Whimpering your name as he pumps his aching cock into the fabric. Wishing so badly that he could grind up against you, splitting your pussy lips over him. He imagined what it would be like to make you beg for him to finally slide in and hear his name slip in your angelic voice.

Everything you did made him hard. Bending over to tie your shoes. Reaching up into the cabinet, when your shirt rides up just a little bit. Any dress that shows even an inch of cleavage. Your voice, oh dear lord. Jacking off to an innocent voicemail you left him is part of his nightly routine.

So, imagine his excitement when you’re over one night. You’re both tangled on his bed, making out, when you pause and bring one of his hands down to the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off.” You whisper in his ear with a smile.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He restrains himself, as much as he wants to rip it off of you, gently pulling the fabric up over your head. He leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, laying you against the covers. Looking up at you through his lashes, he continues to kiss his way across your chest, pausing to drink you in.

Your eyes haven’t left his, grinning with anticipation. God, you looked perfect. Lips red and puffy, hair a haloed mess on the pillow. He didn’t dare look away. Not even when he moved to latch his lips around your nipple. You sucked in a quick breath, sighing like an angel as he flicked his tongue over the hardened bud.

He was hard. Straining against his sweatpants, aching for any ounce of friction. But he had to focus. They were going at your pace, this was about you.

He gripped your other breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his fingers, drawing a low whine from you. Shit, you were going to kill him.

“Choso?” Your sweet voice brings him back down to earth. He continues to look at you, reveling in your flushed face.

“Hm?” He answers, granting your nipple a particularly harsh suck, making your back arch ever so slightly.

“Want more….”

Your words went straight to his cock, twitching with need. He finally detached his lips from you, only to begin a descent down your sternum. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants, he slowly pulls them down your legs, pressing more gentle kisses across your stomach and hips.

He was imagining what kind of underwear you’d be wearing. Maybe something purple, like the ones he still had tucked away in his dresser. Maybe another thong….oh god he hoped you had more of those.

But when he looked at you, he was met with nothing. He groaned, rutting his hips into the mattress, just enough where he thought you wouldn’t notice. He pressed a slew of hungry kisses to the inside of your thigh, gripping the other tightly in his thick hand.

“You plan on this, baby?” He asks you, looking up with a shit-eating grin.

You’re blushing and you can tell he’s thrilled with your little surprise. “Maybe a little.”

He smiles like an asshole, glossing his middle finger up your slit, barely brushing your clit. You gasp at the unexpected feeling, letting your head rest further into the pillow. He looks up at you, breasts heaving excitedly as you smile. Parting your lips enough to truly admire you, he can’t help but give a few kitten licks to your bundle of nerves.

“So beautiful.” He hums, soaking in your soft moans when he pulls away. Meeting your eyes again, he sinks his pointer finger into his mouth, grinning at your flustered laugh. Before you can admire how hot he is in this moment, he’s sliding the dampened digit into you, pumping slowly at first.

He feels his cock twitch again. “Already so wet….” He groans, studying your reactions intensely.

“Another.” You wine, making him push his hips into the mattress again. Fuck, he can’t take much more of this.

Without a second thought, he obliges, adding his middle finger. Your breath catches at the feeling of the slight stretch, gripping the blanket on both sides of you. He watches you in awe. The way your chest rises and falls with each rapid breath. How your eyes screw shut when he starts pumping his fingers faster, drawing sweeter sounds from you. Even sweeter when he brings his mouth down to suck on your clit. He can't help but rut his hips when you arch against his tongue.

"Baby, baby, baby," You chant, pulling at his loose hair to get him to look at you. "Want more."

Your tone shift makes his heart flutter. No way this was actually happening. "You mean..."

You nod, and that's all the go-ahead Choso needs. His clothes join yours on the floor and he wastes no time crawling over you, his hair gathering around his face.

"You're s-sure?" His whole body shivered as his painfully hard cock brushes against your slick lips. His composure was starting to crack. He was on the edge of paradise.

"Yes, I'm sure." You say softly, pulling him into a chaste kiss. "Please."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your jaw as he lines himself up. He's throbbing, having dreamed and fantasized about this for so long. He tries to keep his cool, wanting this to be perfect for you. Then he pushes in, slowly, all his self-control comes crashing down when he feels you swallowing the tip in.

"F-fuck." He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. It's like his body has a mind of its own. He pushes further in, halfway, pulling a whispered version of your name from him.

Finally, finally, he fills you completely. And he whines. He absolutely crumbles against you. He starts rocking in and out of you, dragging his cock against your tight walls.

"Ah...ah...fuck...oh my g-" A series of whimpered cries come tumbling out of Choso's mouth. He can't believe how good it feels. How perfect it feels. His thrusts start to gain speed when your fingers tangle in his hair.

"Feels so good, so good, baby." He whispers into the crook of your neck. Wave after wave of ecstasy curls and crests through his body. You pull on his hair, clenching around him. His hips stutter, another groan rumbling through his chest.

"So good." You agree, arching your back.

His chest pressed against yours, he slides his hands down to your hips, keeping his face buried in your shoulder. "Y/n, please..." He begs, loosing himself in the feeling of you. "I need-shit-feels too good."

You smile to yourself, moaning softly as you watch him lose control of himself. "Use me, baby."

Something in him snaps. He rolls his hips into yours faster.....faster.....deeper. Every thrust brings a high-pitched whine to your ears. He grips your hips tighter, needing to feel you. It's like you can read his mind, dragging your nails up his back. He cries out, a pitiful, needy moan. The sound of skin on skin bounces off the walls, mingling deliciously with your wetness and his whimpers.

"Shit," His voice quivers, fucking into you at brutal pace. "I can't-ah!"

You groan, egging him on, scratching down his back again. "Wanna cum, baby?"

He nods shamelessly into your neck. "Yes! Yes....fuck." His thrusts grown sloppy, holding a vice grip on your waist. "Need to, please, please." It's like he's losing his handle on reality. You feel so good around him, pulling his hair, marking up his back.

"Oh, fuck-" He whimpers, "y/n, y/n, I-"

"Choso..." You groan, and that's all it takes. He pulls out of you and that's when you finally get to see him: sweaty, beet red, breathless, toned chest heaving.

All he can think to do is grunt and groan as he lines up at your slit, pumping himself until thick white lines of cum shoot out. He lets out a long, high pitched whine as he coats your lips and slit with his cum until he's shaking.

You smile up at him, never seeing him look more attractive. You push yourself up onto your elbows before being pushed right back down. Choso, with a hand pressed lightly against your throat, kisses you with a renewed fire.

"Not done yet." He mumbles against your lips. "S'your turn, baby."

masterlist <3

[jetii]

A Dance With Danger

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 19,621 (oops!)

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, implied trauma and sex work, sexual assault type situations, canon typical violence, protective!Hunter, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, primal kink kinda? it's Hunter so...

Summary: Life has been pretty good since Hunter and the Batch unexpectedly entered your life, but you can't help but want more. When Cid offers you a job you can't refuse, you find yourself drawn back into the life you worked so hard to escape from, and Hunter's protective nature doesn't help.

A/N: I've had this one saved in my drafts for literal years, and it's a relief to finally post it. Somewhere along the way this got way longer than I intended so it's a bit of a hike to get to the smut.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

With a confident stride, you make your way through the colorful chaos of Ord Mantell City's market, a covered satchel slung over your shoulder. The city has no set market square. Instead, makeshift stalls and tents offering a variety of goods dot both sides of the street, creating a maze-like sprawl.

You focus your attention on your path, making sure not to bump into any of the other beings that are hurrying past you. The crowd thins a bit as you leave the main bazaar and head down a series of increasingly narrow and deserted side streets. A few minutes later, you step out of a shadowy passageway and into a dimly lit back alley.

Suddenly, loud gasp escapes you as you feel yourself being tugged forward and pulled into the alley's darkness, a pair of strong hands on your waist.

Before you can react, you’re yanked onto your toes and pinned against the wall, a knife jutting into the delicate skin of your neck.

"You’re dead,” a voice rasps.

But you feel no fear. Instead, you smile and laugh, leaning in to the edge of the vibroblade and pushing your body against the hard contours of the man who holds you. The weapon quickly pulls away from your neck before it can slice into you.

“Hunter!” you say, your voice laced with amusement.

In the near dark, you see his eyes flash in annoyance. 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Hunter admonishes.

“Oh, I’m plenty aware.”

Your eyes flicker downward toward the blade held deftly in your own hand, its tip poised towards the seam in his chest plate. He follows your gaze, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise, before he draws back and sheathes his weapon.

He gives you a begrudging smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Fair play.”

You wink, sliding your knife into the sheath on your thigh. "What brings you to this end of town, Hunter? Business or pleasure?"

"Bit of both, really," he answers with a smirk, and you roll your eyes. "I had a delivery to make in the area."

You reach out to straighten the cloth around his shoulders, the red fabric soft and worn. "And how much was your cut?"

Hunter tilts his head, regarding you for a moment. "Not nearly as much as you'd think."

You pat his shoulder. "It never is, is it?"

“Where are you off to?” he asks as your hand retreats.

“Got a meeting with Cid. Walk with me?”

He nods, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk back through the market towards the arcade.

You move through the crowd in a comfortable silence, occasionally brushing against one another as you maneuver your way through the throng. You notice his gaze lingering on you as you walk, and a small smile crosses your lips. You’ve caught him looking before, but you never tire of seeing him do it.

You’re no stranger to the attention of men, and there was a time when you had relished it, but those days are long gone. Thankfully now, as you walk with Hunter, the gazes of the merchants and the other men seem to slide off you, unnoticed.

There's something different about him. He came into your life unexpectedly, and though his presence has disrupted the careful order of your days, it’s a welcome change.

He makes you feel safe. Protected. Wanted.

And he certainly isn’t hard on the eyes.

"So," Hunter begins, glancing at you. “You talk to her yet?”

“Ugh, yeah.” You roll your eyes. “Never heard her laugh so much before.”

As your foot kicks a rock in your path, he fixes you with a sympathetic look, but he doesn't say anything to try to comfort you. You like that about him — Hunter isn't a man of many words, so when he does speak, they count. And he never seems to tire of listening to you, somehow always knowing when you want to share something and when you want to stay in silence. He's good company.

“She said ‘it'll be a cold day on Mustafar before I let a circus freak tell me how to run my business,'" you say, altering your voice as you recall your boss's words. Normally, mimicking the Trandoshan makes you feel better in times like these, but it only serves to make your blood boil more.

Hunter sucks a breath through his teeth in a wince, knowing that you don't take that insult lightly. He stops walking and turns to face you, putting his hand on your shoulder to pull you aside before you can reach the arcade’s door. His hand is warm and firm, and you find yourself wanting him to leave it there.

"Hey. Look at me." His tone is commanding, but you detect a hint of warmth. You meet his gaze, taking in the rich brown of his eyes, the lines on his brow.

"Don't worry about Cid. You'll get your chance." He leans closer to you, and you're surprised at the tenderness in his voice.

A grin creeps across your lips.

"Hunter, are you giving me a pep talk?"

His expression doesn't change.

"Just a little encouragement," he says, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You sigh. You want to believe him, but he doesn't know Cid like you do.

"She's right, though. I am a circus freak," you mutter.

"I don't see it," Hunter replies. "I mean, you are a bit of a show-off, but..."

You give him a shove, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. You love when he does that — his smiles are few and far between, so you treasure every one you manage to elicit.

You shake your head at him, smiling in spite of yourself.

"Well, thanks. I'll take it."

He nods, removing his hand from your shoulder, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. "Anytime."

Hunter opens the door for you, and you make your way through the arcade, weaving past a group of Pantorans who are huddled together arguing over Sabacc. Hunter's brothers are already posted up at the bar, their usual spot. Omega is seated on the counter next to a bottle of some kind of soda, her legs dangling and kicking.

Cid looks up from behind the bar, her reptilian eyes narrowing in on you immediately.

"You're late," she barks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Had an appointment," you answer, giving the Trandoshan a saccharine smile. Cid doesn't ask for details, just snorts and gestures for you to join her in the back.

Omega looks at you and waves. "Hi!"

"Hey, kid," you reply, giving the girl a little wave in return. "How you doing?"

Omega's eyes light up as she speaks to you. "Good! We just got a new job. Well, we're waiting for the client to show up."

"Oh, really? That's exciting." You turn your gaze to the others, who are all looking at you, and offer a small smile. You're still a bit embarrassed by your behavior the last time you were on a job together, when you made an impulsive move and got yourself injured.

You spent several days recovering in the clinic, bored out of your mind, until one afternoon, Omega showed up to keep you company. You didn't mind her company; she was a sweet girl, and a smart one, too. She reminded you a bit of yourself at that age, though with a much better head on her shoulders.

Your attention returns to Hunter, whose brown eyes are fixed on you. He has a curious look on his face, like he's trying to puzzle something out, and you're tempted to ask him what he's thinking.

Omega looks back and forth between you, clearly noticing the silent exchange, and you give her a little wink, causing her to grin.

"Well," you say, turning toward the hallway that leads to Cid's office. "Have fun on your next job, guys."

"We will!" Omega calls after you.

In Cid's office, the older woman is seated behind her desk, the same scowl on her face that she has every time you come into the room. It doesn't matter how many times you go in there, or how much Cid trusts you — it's like her face is stuck that way.

"Sit," Cid commands, pointing a claw toward the chair in front of her desk.

You sit down, placing the satchel on your lap. The Trandoshan stares you down, her yellow eyes piercing.

"You're not gonna believe what I'm about to tell you," Cid begins.

"You're right," you reply. "I won't."

Cid snorts, a sound that you have grown used to over the years, and reaches for the bottle of liquor sitting on her desk. You watch her pour two glasses and slide one over.

"What's the job?"

Her answering grin reveals sharp teeth, and you know you're going to like what she’s about to say. "The biggest one I've ever landed. It's gonna be worth a fortune."

"Well, spill." You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees.

"There's this artifact." Cid lowers her voice. "A crystal."

You frown. Not what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"It's supposed to give its bearer great power," Cid continues, undeterred by your lack of enthusiasm.

"Sounds like a load of bantha shit to me."

"Yeah, I know." The Trandoshan sighs, scratching her chin with her claw. "I told him I didn't believe in that crap, but the guy said he was willing to pay us 500,000 credits. Can you believe that? I can finally fix this place up, make it nice."

"500,000, huh?"

"Yeah."

You purse your lips. "Why don't we just grab the thing and sell it ourselves? Seems like there might be people out there who would be interested."

Cid narrows her eyes. "That's not how I do business, kid. If the client knows the location, it's better if we just do the job and collect the pay."

"And what if it's a set-up?"

"Then we deal with it." Cid leans back in her chair, taking a sip from her glass. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I see." You pick up your own glass and take a swig. The liquid burns as it makes its way down your throat, but you enjoy the feeling. Better than sitting here sober, anyway. “This sounds too easy, Cid. All I have to do is go to this place and grab the crystal? That's it?"

"It's a little more complicated than that.” Cid shifts in her seat. You bite back a groan. “You see, it's already been stolen. The client hired us to find it and bring it back to him. He's got the money and the location of the thief."

"Oh, that's wonderful," you say. "Anything else I should know?”

"The thief is on his way to Nal Hutta to make a deal," Cid says, and your heart leaps to your throat. You immediately start to shake your head, the words escaping your lips in a rush.

"Cid, no. I'm not going back there."

"You go where I tell you to go.” She bares her sharp teeth, hissing.

"Cid, I'm not."

Cid snarls and rises to her feet. Her hands slam down on the desk and rattle the glass and the bottle. “This is a huge job, kid. We're gonna make bank."

"Why don't you send someone else?"

"Because I'm sending you.” She jabs a claw in your direction. "I've got a lot riding on this, so I need you to go and bring me the damn crystal."

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. The fight bleeds out of you as you realize that you won't be able to change her mind. “How?”

Cid's demeanor changes, and she relaxes, settling back into her seat. She picks up her glass and takes a sip, gesturing toward you with it. "It's pretty simple, really. You’re going back to your roots. Word around Hutta Town is Nola’s cantina is looking for new dancers, and I said I knew just the girl for the job.”

You feel yourself tense, and your fingers clench the arms of the chair.

"Oh, so you want me to dance for this guy? Maybe suck him off in the back room while I'm at it?" you snap, not bothering to mask the disgust in your voice.

Cid doesn't seem affected by your words, her expression remaining neutral. "Do whatever you have to, kid." She shrugs. "Just bring me back that crystal."

You take a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Fine."

“What?” 

A voice just outside the door gives you both pause. Your eyes widen, and Cid looks downright murderous.

A moment later, Hunter bursts into the room, boots eating up the ground between him and Cid's desk before you can blink. He crosses his arms, fixing Cid with a look that would've made a lesser being tremble. 

“Absolutely not."

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and Cid's lip curls.

“You should keep that big nose out of business that doesn’t concern you, bandana,” Cid hisses, rising from her chair again. “She’s a big girl. One who works for me and does what I tell her to."

You sigh and rub your temples. "Hunter, please —"

"No," he snaps, his gaze still trained on the Trandoshan. “You’re sending her to steal from the Hutts without backup. That concerns me.”

“Hunter, I'll be fine,” you try to interject.

“Like hell you will be.” He glares at you, and you blink, mouth falling open. You haven't seen him this worked up in a long time, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. You rack your memory for the last time someone came to your defense like this and come up short. It’s a little flattering, but it also stings a bit.

Cid slams her fist down on the desk. You flinch, and Hunter doesn't move.

"Listen closely," Cid growls. "She's my employee. I'm her boss. She's not your responsibility. Now get out of here."

Hunter's gaze is hard. You watch the muscles in his jaw twitch.

"She can also take care of herself," you interject, and Cid points at you.

"That's right, she can."

Hunter whirls on you, his face incredulous.

"You can't be serious," he spits.

"I've done a lot worse for a lot less," you remind him, standing up. You're trying to stay calm, but his words are starting to get under your skin. You hate that you have to explain yourself.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Hunter snaps. He’s nearly shouting now, and you grit your teeth. You're starting to lose your patience, and you can feel a familiar tightness building in your chest.

"I don't care how you feel. She's been doing this for a long time," Cid growls, baring her teeth. “Longer than you’ve been alive, probably."

Hunter turns to face her, and you watch him square his shoulders, preparing to go toe-to-toe with the Trandoshan. You wonder if he has a death wish, but part of you can't help but be intrigued by his brazen display.

You shake your head, reaching for the bottle of liquor.

You know Hunter and Cid are arguing, their voices becoming more heated, but the words fade away as you lift your glass to your lips and swallow. The alcohol is sweet and strong, burning down your throat and spreading heat through your limbs. You’re beginning to feel better already until the next words out of Hunter’s mouth hit your ears.

"You can't expect me to sit idly by and allow—"

“Allow?” You slam the glass down on the desk. The sound echoes throughout the small office, and Cid and Hunter both fall silent, turning their heads toward you. You fix Hunter with a glare, your eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, what exactly do you think you can do to stop me?"

Hunter's jaw clenches. "I can make you see reason."

"Or you could let her do her job," Cid says, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Listen to her if you know what’s good for you.”

"No." He crosses his arms. “She's not going alone. It’s suicide.”

"Well, it's a good thing it's not up to you." You stand up and take a step closer, squaring up to him. You're shorter than he is, and he has a good deal of bulk on you, but he doesn't intimidate you.

Hunter's eyes widen, and you think he looks a little taken aback, maybe even a bit impressed. But the emotion doesn't last long.

His brow furrows, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find another way to convince you to listen to him.

"I'm not letting you go."

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. This is not the first time you've disagreed about a mission, and it certainly won't be the last, but this time, you won't allow him to talk you out of it. Not with a take this big.

"Look, Hunter," you say, keeping your tone light, "I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it."

His expression shifts, and the anger and frustration in his eyes give way to disappointment. You try to ignore the way it stings.

"This is how I make my living. It's just a job, like any other," you say softly, hoping he can hear the sincerity in your voice.

He looks at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face.  Then he crosses his arms and shakes his head. "That's not good enough for me."

"Well, it's all I have."

He sighs and closes his eyes. “No. You're not going alone.” 

“Hunter—“

“I’m coming with you.”

The air around you seems to still. Cid sucks in a breath. Your brows knit together.

"What?" you ask.

Hunter's eyes meet yours, his expression determined. "I'm coming with you. You need backup."

You shake your head. "Hunter, no. I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking." He's smiling, and it's a soft, genuine smile. He places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. His gaze is warm, and it fills you with an unexpected sense of calm. "I'm offering."

You can tell he's serious, and the thought of him accompanying you both excites and terrifies you. You know you're strong and capable, but the idea of working with a partner again has you feeling nervous.

And the idea of working with Hunter specifically? Well, it does things to your insides that you don't care to examine too closely.

"What about the others?" you ask, and he shrugs.

"They can manage without me."

"That's not fair. You can't abandon them because of me.”

Hunter gives your shoulder a little shake, his expression earnest. "I'm not abandoning anyone," he says gently. “I'm coming with you. They will be fine. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves."

"I... Hunter, I don't know."

He lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your shoulder, the absence of his touch making you feel strangely bereft.

"We can argue about it, or we can agree to go together," he offers.

"Hunter—"

"Oh, this is too precious," Cid mutters, cutting off your objection. She looks back and forth between you, a toothy grin spreading across her face. "Look, lovebirds, I won't stop you if you decide to go together, but you're splitting her cut."

You open your mouth to protest, but Hunter speaks before you can, his voice low. "Deal."

"What?"

"Deal," he repeats, looking at you.

You shake your head, running your hands over your face. Your skin is burning, your mind racing. How could he be so willing to just...leave his team like this? To offer himself up for the sake of your mission, for the sake of your well-being?

It makes no sense.

And yet...

"Fine. We'll do it your way," you finally say.

"Good." Hunter gives you a curt nod.

"Good." Cid chuckles, the sound like a growl in her throat. "Here's the plan..."

“Do you really think I can’t do this alone?” you ask after nearly an hour of silence between you.

You're both en route to Nal Hutta, traveling undercover in an older model cargo ship, and you've been quiet most of the journey. Hunter had expected you to be angry with him, and perhaps a part of you was, but you've also been withdrawn and quiet. You spent the first part of the trip going over the details of the mission, and he can't help but feel like something has shifted between you.

He doesn't regret his decision, not even for a second.

He knows that you can handle yourself, that you've survived in the galaxy on your own since before he was even decanted, and he respects that. But it doesn't stop him from wanting to be there, to protect you if he needs to. It's something he can't explain, an instinct that he feels deep down in his bones.

But you're right. It isn't his place to make this decision for you.

Hunter turns toward you, his gaze roaming over your form. You're seated next to him, your legs crossed, and your gaze is focused out the viewport, watching the blue streaks of hyperspace pass you by. He wants to reach out and place his hand on your knee, to reassure you that his intentions are not meant to be condescending.

Instead, he chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly.

"I didn't say that."

You frown. "You were thinking it."

He sighs, turning back toward the viewport. "I don't think you need anyone," he admits, his voice quiet. "You're a…very capable woman."

You scoff. Yeah, he definitely could've phrased that better.

You lean forward, your hands folded together between your knees. Hunter can't help but admire the way the fabric of your shirt pulls taut against the curves of your body before he forces his eyes away.

"That's not what you said in Cid's office."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He can't deny that his words were a bit harsh, that he allowed his frustration and concern to get the better of him, and he can only hope that he hasn't managed to completely ruin his chances with you.

"I'm sorry about that," he says. "But I can't help how I feel."

"What is that supposed to mean?" you ask, your tone sharp. Hunter turns his head, finding you looking at him, your gaze curious and intense.

"I—" He pauses, licking his lips, searching for the right words. He can't very well tell you the truth. That you've come to mean more to him than he ever intended, that he's grown to care about you and respect you. That he's not sure he can let you out of his sight again, at least not until this is all over.

"It means that I'm concerned," he finally says, settling on a version of the truth that feels easier, less risky.

"You don't need to be," you reply, crossing your arms.

Hunter wants to reassure you, but the truth is, he's worried about you. The thought of you walking into that den of Hutts, alone and defenseless, makes his blood boil.

You've been tight-lipped about your past, and he hasn't pressed you, but he can tell you're hiding something. And the idea that you're going to be forced to relive it, forced to face whatever trauma you've endured, leaves him feeling uneasy.

He has his own demons. He can only imagine what yours might be.

"Look, I know what I'm doing," you say when he doesn't reply, your voice softening.

"I know you do,” he says quietly, his fingers drumming against the armrest.

“Then why did you come?”

He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose. It isn’t an easy question to answer, especially given the tumultuous state of your relationship. He’s long since given up denying his feelings for you, but you're a wildcard. You’re unpredictable, and he never knows where he stands with you.

There are times when he feels like he could just tell you, but the timing is never right. You’re always on your way out the door, or off to some job or another. You flit in and out of his life like a ghost, and he can never seem to catch you.

And then there are moments when you're close, when he's caught you staring at him, when your fingers have lingered on him just a bit longer than necessary. There are times when he swears he sees something there, something soft and tender in the way you look at him. But then you put the walls back up, and he's left wondering if he’ll ever truly be able to get close to you.

Still, the desire to confess his feelings is always there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity. At this point, it's almost inevitable, but he knows that it will take time, patience.

And so, for now, Hunter settles on an answer that isn't entirely the truth, but that's not exactly a lie, either.

"I couldn't let you go alone."

You blink. "Why not?"

He's quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. 

"It’s not a regular job, cyar’ika. This is dangerous. I know from experience how often missions go sideways, variables change…with the Hutts involved, it complicates things.” He sighs. “And I couldn’t just stand by and watch you go into that den alone."

You purse your lips. "I could handle it."

"I know you could," he says, the corners of his lips quirking up.

"You're insufferable," you mumble, shaking your head.

He chuckles. "Maybe, but I'm telling the truth."

"Mmm."

You look back out the viewport, your expression thoughtful. He watches you for a moment, taking in the subtle curve of your cheek, the delicate arch of your brow. There's a slight flush to your skin, and he knows that you're trying to hide the way his words are affecting you.

It's adorable. You don't blush easily, and seeing the color rise in your cheeks makes him want to lean closer and press his lips to your temple.

The urge is almost overwhelming, and he's forced to look away.

It's strange, the effect you have on him. He's used to keeping his emotions in check, used to being in control, but around you, he feels like a ship spinning out of control. You make him feel things he's never felt before, and it scares him. Hunter is far from the only man who has noticed how beautiful you are, but it's more than just your physical appearance that draws him to you.

There's something about the way you move, the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you fight. It all appeals to him on a primal level. He feels protective of you, and the desire to keep you safe is strong, but the urge to make you his is even stronger.

He's not sure if it's just lust or something more, but he knows that he wants you. Badly.

He just doesn't know how to tell you.

"So, you came along because you were worried about me?"

His attention returns to you, and he finds you looking at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He doesn't return the expression.

"Yes."

Your smile falters, and you sigh. "Hmm."

"What does that mean?"

You turn away from him again, staring out at the stars. He can tell that there's something on your mind, something that's bothering you.

He knows that asking will only push you further away, and so he bites his tongue, resisting the urge to prod.

"Just that you're a bit of an ass, is all," you say, and the words are soft, without any real bite.

He laughs, and you shoot him a small grin.

"I never said I wasn't," he retorts, and you snort.

"Yeah, I suppose not." You smile.

Silence stretches between you, but it's not as awkward as he expects. Instead, it's comfortable, and he allows himself to relax a bit. He missed this in the short time you've been apart, the easy banter, the feeling of being close to you.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," he says after a moment, keeping his tone light.

You shake your head. "It's okay."

He studies your face. There's no anger there, only acceptance. It's not the reaction he expected, but he's grateful for it.

"Really," he continues. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't do it."

"It's okay, Hunter." You pat his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I know you're just looking out for me."

He swallows hard, his eyes dropping to where your hand rests on his arm. You must notice his gaze, because your fingers curl slightly, and a shiver runs down his spine.

“I appreciate you tagging along. Even if I don’t think it’s necessary,” you admit, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s nice to have some company for once.”

His heart swells at the confession, and he nods, unable to speak. You're looking at him with such openness and affection that it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He's grateful when you finally pull away and return your gaze to the viewport.

"Just don't let it go to your head," you add.

Hunter chuckles, leaning back in his seat. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he admires you.

It's not the first time he's wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to run his fingers through your hair, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but it's the first time he's considered acting on his desires.

It's a tempting thought.

One that he quickly pushes aside, not wanting to make a fool of himself. You're not some random stranger at the cantina or an easy conquest. You're important to him, and he wants to take things slow, to treat you with the respect and reverence that you deserve. No matter how attractive he finds you, no matter how badly he wants you, he can wait.

He hopes.

Hunter feels his body heat up, and he forces himself to look away, clearing his throat. Now is not the time. You turn your head and give him a questioning look, and he realizes he hasn't spoken in several minutes.

"So, um..." he begins, trailing off as he tries to find the words.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could dance," he says.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh?"

He nods. "I don't think I've ever seen you dance before."

You smirk, and the look makes him feel warm. Your brow arches. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

He doesn't know what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. His eyes widen slightly, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Is that right?"

You nod, crossing your legs. He tries not to stare, but his eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of your thigh, and he swallows hard. You laugh softly, and the sound makes him look back up at you.

"Yeah, it's part of my act."

"What?"

You nod. "Back in the day, I had a routine."

"A routine?" he repeats. Not because he didn't hear you, but because he doesn't know how else to respond. His mind is supplying him with all sorts of images, and he can't seem to focus on anything else.

"Yeah. It's pretty standard. Some dancing, some acting, a little bit of seduction..." You trail off, giving him a coy look.

Hunter blinks, his brain finally catching up with the conversation. He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat.

 "Seduction, huh?"

"What? You don't believe me? That hurts, Hunter. I'm hurt." You pout, placing a hand on your chest, and he bites back a groan.

"No, I, uh... I didn't say that."

"I can be very convincing when I want to be," you murmur, leaning closer.

His heart rate quickens, and he licks his lips. He has no doubt that you could be, especially with the way you're looking at him. He's seen how good you are at manipulating others, and he knows you're probably just messing with him, but his body is responding to your advances nonetheless.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low and husky when he speaks.

"You should show me sometime."

The tension between you is palpable, and he finds himself leaning closer to you, his body moving of its own accord. Your gaze drops to his mouth as the space between you shrinks. His skin tingles, his lips parting, and he's almost certain that you're going to kiss him.

Instead, you sit back, grinning.

"Maybe I will."

He exhales slowly, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. You're watching him with an amused look on your face, and he can't help but chuckle.

You're infuriating, and he should be frustrated, but he isn't. You're teasing him, and it's working. You're pushing him to his limits, testing his self-control, and he's enjoying it. It's not something he's experienced often, but he's finding that he likes it. He's never met anyone who has made him feel like this, and he wants more.

Hunter leans back in his chair, breaking eye contact, and you giggle. He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, groaning softly. When he looks up, you're watching him with a knowing smirk on your face. He can't help but smile back.

"We should probably focus on the task at hand," you say, your voice light and teasing.

"Yeah. Probably." He shakes his head, the corners of his lips still turned up.

"Right. So...let's go over the plan one more time."

He nods and takes a deep breath. "Right."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Nal Hutta smells every bit as awful as you remember. The stench is overwhelming — the swampy miasma of rotting vegetation, pollution, and the smell of too many beings packed into a small area. Inside the cantina isn’t much better, but at least you can breathe without choking on the fetid air.

You make your way through the crowded club, the music blaring and the lights dim. You can feel eyes on you, the patrons watching as you pass. You ignore them, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You're dressed to impress, and your clothes leave little to the imagination. You're showing a lot of skin, and while the outfit is functional, you still feel a little vulnerable, but you've always enjoyed being the center of attention.

You've changed a lot in the last few years, but there are some things that will always stay the same.

Your hips sway to the beat as you cross the dance floor. You catch a few admiring glances and appreciative stares, but the one you feel most keenly is Hunter's. He's watching you, keeping his distance, and you can feel his gaze burning into your back as sure as if it was a physical thing.

Normally you find Hunter’s protectiveness endearing, but right now, it's nothing short of infuriating. When you returned to the ship to tell him Nola had given you the job, he insisted on coming along. Not that you would have allowed him to stay behind, but it would have been nice to have a say in the matter.

You had hoped that by allowing him to accompany you, he would have enough faith in you to allow you to work alone.

You were wrong.

He's been glued to your side since the moment you landed, hovering, and watching, and making you nervous. It was like pulling teeth getting him to agree to hang back and let you handle the situation on your own, and even now, his presence is distracting.

You try your best not to look Hunter’s way. You’re supposed to be making eyes at every customer, after all, not just the brooding man posted dutifully in a corner booth, an untouched drink in his hand. And he is brooding. You can practically feel his displeasure coming off him in waves as his eyes follow you around from table to table.

Thankfully, no one else seems to notice. They’re much too busy drinking, gambling, and attempting to grope you as you walk by to detect anything amiss. Your gaze flicks up briefly, and you catch his eye, and you see the way they narrow as a drunk patron reaches out and grabs your wrist.

You freeze, the touch like ice on your skin. The man yanks you forward, pulling you close enough to speak directly into your ear. "How much?"

You stiffen, and your stomach roils.

"Sorry," you mutter, pulling your wrist free. "Not for sale."

You don't wait for his response. Instead, you turn on your heel and walk away as quickly as you can without breaking into a run.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you duck around a corner, pressing yourself against the wall as you take a few breaths, trying to calm yourself. It's embarrassing, really, how rattled you are by such a simple gesture. It's only a stupid drunk patron, and yet here you are, hiding in the shadows and struggling to pull yourself together.

You curse under your breath. You’ve done this a hundred times, and you aren’t some wide-eyed child. There's no reason to let the encounter affect you so deeply.

Except, it's the first time you've been back in a place like this since you left.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath and forcing your hands to unclench.

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you flinch, your hands flying up in front of you.

“Easy, sweetie," a vibrant pink Twi'Lek murmurs.

You lower your hands, giving the woman a shaky smile. "Sorry, Isa."

"I get it." Isa shrugs, the motion jostling the crystalline beads dripping down her bodysuit. Isa pulls off the look far better than you could ever hope to, and she's got an ease about her that comes from years of experience. It’s no surprise she’s the longest-standing employee here and the most well tipped.

"I don't blame you for being skittish,” she says, retracting her hand. She makes a disgusted noise in her throat. “These people are all sleemos. You want something stronger to drink before the show?"

You shake your head. As much as you'd love one, you're going to need a clear head to make it out of this alive. "Thanks, though," you say.

"Alright, just let me know if you change your mind. You're gonna do great, kid. Just stick to the choreography, and you'll be fine."

You nod, stomach in knots. Isa breezes by and steps on stage as the crowd hollers and cat-calls, the music beginning. You watch as she performs her opening routine, her movements hypnotic and graceful. She's a beautiful woman, and you can see why the patrons are so drawn to her.

"Hey," Hunter's voice is in your ear, his tone soft. You shiver at the sound. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. "Just a little nervous, is all."

He's silent for a moment, and you picture him frowning. You know he's probably not happy that you're doing this, but there's nothing he can do about it. Not now, anyway.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Hunter."

"You can always abort the mission," he says, and your stomach sinks.

"I'm fine," you say, and you can't keep the edge from your voice. "Don't worry about me."

You make your way behind the stage, palms sweaty and pulse pounding. As you wait for the cue, the music changes and spotlights hit the stage, bathing it in bright light. You watch Isa dance gracefully and feel a twinge of envy. You used to be like her, graceful and seductive.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, steeling yourself. You can do this. All you need to do is play your part and keep your head on straight. The target is the only one that matters.

It doesn't take long for Isa to step off stage, smiling and waving to the crowd before passing you with an encouraging grin.

The announcer calls out your name, and you step onto the stage.

Hunter has been a soldier for years, and he's seen a lot of things that would make most people recoil in disgust or horror. He's been shot at, stabbed, nearly blown up on more than one occasion, and that was all before he and his brothers started working for Cid.

But nothing has ever shaken him the way watching you perform does.

His mouth goes dry, and his jaw drops. He's thankful the cantina is so dim, because he knows he's staring, but he can't help himself.

You're beautiful, your hair swept up, the pale blue light casting a glow over you. And the way your hips move, and your back arches, and your lips curve into a teasing smile, make his blood heat and his heart pound. His eyes follow you as you move, your body twisting and undulating to the music. It's a sensual display, and one that he knows is part of the act, but your movements seem to reach out to him, pulling him in.

Your hips roll, and your fingers slide down your thighs, the sheer fabric of your dress clinging to your body, and the light from the stage highlights the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your movements are graceful, and it's clear that you're no stranger to performing, and yet, there's an edge to them. An intensity. A hint of danger.

The way you're moving, the way you're looking at the crowd, the way you're teasing the audience... It's like watching a predator stalking its prey, and he finds himself transfixed, his body reacting to your every move. 

The crowd is eating out of the palm of your hand, and Hunter is right along with them, transfixed by you.

As if sensing his thoughts, you glance at him, a wicked smile curving your lips. It's a look that makes his pulse race and his imagination run wild. He can almost imagine you whispering in his ear, telling him to meet you after the show. He can see you taking his hand, leading him to your room and letting him explore every inch of your body. He can picture what it would feel like to touch you, to taste you, to bury himself inside you.

Your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you turn away, the music growing louder. When you spin around and bend over, giving him a full view of your backside, he knows it's intentional.

You're teasing him, and he can't say that he minds.

Your hips sway and gyrate, your hands traveling over your body. He knows he should look away, should give you the respect and privacy that you deserve, but he can't.

He wants you.

The thought hits him like a freight train, and he feels the blood rush to his groin. His breath catches, and he licks his lips, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It's a thought he's had before, but it's never been this powerful. It's more than desire, more than a passing fancy. It's a burning need that he can't deny. He's never wanted someone the way he wants you, and the realization leaves him reeling.

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and focus on the clientele. He can hear the wolf whistles and cat calls, and it makes his skin crawl. But as much as he wants to go up on stage and put an end to this, he knows he can't. Not yet, at least.

Instead, he does what he does best and watches the room, observing. Most of the audience is made up of humans, a few Twi'leks, and a smattering of other species. There are a couple of Hutts, their massive bulk taking up two tables, and several other creatures in the dark corners of the cantina. Hunter has a feeling they're the reason for the high number of bouncers posted at the doors.

This is the sort of place that draws the dregs of the galaxy, he thinks, just as his eyes catch sight of a pale horned head at the bar. His back is to him, but he doesn't need to see his face to know that it's your man.

Hunter tenses, and his fingers twitch.

There you are.

As you dance, you can hear the crowd cheering, and you let the music carry you. You’ve spent many nights in places like this, and you can read a crowd. You know what the patrons want to see, and you can give it to them. You just hope you were attracting the right attention.

When the song ends, you give a little bow and blow a kiss at the crowd, the smile plastered on your face feeling more natural than it did a moment ago. The applause and cheers follow you as you turn to leave the stage, and your legs feel like jelly as you walk, your breath coming hard.

“I have eyes on the target. Zabrak at the bar in the blue vest," Hunter rasps in your ear.

You glance out of the corner of your eye toward the bar. A Zabrak you saw earlier was wearing a blue vest, and sure enough, there he was. He’s in conversation with the droid bartender, which gives you the opportunity to examine him further. You spot his hip pack — likely where he’s storing Cid's crystal — and smile. It’s almost too easy.

The target turns suddenly and catches you looking at him. You mask your surprise with a flirtatious wink, and his expression immediately dissolves into one of interest. He takes his drink from the bartender and lifts it in your direction before taking a sip.

Over the rim of the glass, you can see the darkness of his gaze, and a plan immediately begins to form in your mind. It's not the one you'd intended to follow, but it will work just as well.

“I’m engaging,” you mutter quietly to yourself.

"What? No!" Hunter hisses in your ear.

"Hunter, trust me," you insist. "This is what I do. Let me do my job."

"Your job?" he snaps, his voice rough.

"Yes," you reply sharply, your irritation rising. “I can get the crystal without you having to lift a finger. Just keep your head down and let me do my thing."

"I don’t like this."

"Trust me."

Hunter is silent, and you can practically feel his disapproval.

Fine. Let him be upset. You can handle yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes still locked with the Zabrak. He’s decently attractive, with strong features and an impressive physique. Not the worst mark you'd ever had, that's for sure. You can do this.

You give him a coy smile, turning and making your way down the stairs and over to the bar. Your hips sway as you walk, and you put a little extra swing in your step. He keeps his eyes on you as you approach, and the closer you get, the more you can see the clear lust in them. Cid mentioned he had a thing for human women during the briefing, but this was something else.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he says, his voice a low rumble.

You smile and lean against the bar, your fingers tracing patterns on the worn surface. "I was hoping you’d say that."

"Why's that?"

"Because you seem like the kind of man who could show a girl a good time." Yuck.

"Is that right?" he asks, leaning closer. His hand brushes against your hip, and his breath tickles your neck. "And what makes you say that?"

"Call it a hunch," you say, smiling coyly.

"You have good instincts."

"I have a few," you say, your gaze flicking to the pack at his waist. You lean forward, your hand cupping his cheek. “Is this seat taken?” 

The Zabrak smiles, revealing yellowed teeth and sharp canines as his eyes rake over you. He sets his drink down on the bar and turns toward you to pat his lap with a clawed hand.

Pushing down the shudder threatening to creep up your spine, you slide onto his legs. Your arms wrap around his neck so your fingers can caress the back of his bare skull. The leathery texture of his skin feels wrong, but the claws on your hips are much worse.

His fingers squeeze your flesh, and you fight the urge to flinch. You hate this. Hate being this close to someone, hate the way their hands roam your body. It's too familiar, too dangerous. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, and your skin crawls. But this is the only way to get what you need.

"I'm Vesh," he tells you, his voice deep and gravelly.

You respond with your name, your voice a whisper.

Vesh repeats it, and his fingers flex on your skin. "It's a pleasure."

"Mmm," you murmur, your hand trailing down his chest.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he says as you swing your legs around to dangle off the side of his own.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. At his nod, you lean in closer, nose nearly brushing his ear. “It’s my first day.”

He draws back and grasps your chin with a clawed thumb and forefinger. You resist the urge to jerk your head away as he brings your face close to his.

"Is that right?" he asks, his breath hot on your skin.

"Mmhmm," you nod, your fingers curling into his vest. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing a bad job, won’t you?”

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he growls, his hand sliding up your thigh, "I'll make sure you're nice and thoroughly trained."

The innuendo is glaringly obvious, and the implication is clear. You can't help but wonder if he thinks he's being charming. He's not.

You force yourself not to recoil from his touch. Instead, you lean in, pressing your body against his. "I hope so."

You hum, running your hands over his chest, the muscles beneath your palms tense and firm. Your gaze drops to his hip pack. It would be so easy to snatch the crystal and run, but the last thing you need is to alert him or the guards. Instead, you allow him to tilt your head, your body pliant in his grasp.

As he leans down to kiss your neck, you can hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl over the comlink.

“I’m coming over," Hunter rasps.

“Don’t!” you blurt out. Vesh makes to withdraw, and you quickly hold onto his neck to keep him in place. “Um, don’t stop. You’re so good at that.”

He needs little encouragement from there. With dry lips, he mouths at your neck and chest, hands moving to caress your waist and thighs. You give sighs in all the right places, leaning into his touch, all the while feeling a pair of eyes burning into you from across the room.

It's an easy plan. One you've pulled off more times than you can count. Seduce the target, steal the goods, and run.

What you didn't anticipate was your reaction to Hunter's presence. The way his gaze is practically boring into you, his displeasure rolling off him in waves. Or the possessive noise that escapes him when Vesh touches you. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

It's been a long time since someone has felt so protective of you, and while it's unnecessary, there's a part of you that likes it. It's a heady feeling, knowing that someone cares enough about you to get angry on your behalf.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Vesh's hand slip under your dress. You tense, your thighs clenching around his leg. He growls in your ear, low and throaty, and his hips buck up, grinding against you. His claws rake across your skin, leaving burning trails behind.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to pull away and run. Instead, you force yourself to stay put and focus on the task at hand.

Vesh's free hand reaches up to cup your breast, and your breath hitches.

"So eager," he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with lust.

"I can't wait," you purr, your eyes sliding over his shoulder to meet Hunter's. His gaze is molten, and his jaw is set, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You force yourself to turn back to Vesh, a smile on your lips. "Why don't we take this somewhere private?"

"I like the way you think." He grins and nearly shoves you off his lap as he moves to stand.

Vesh leads you forward with a hand on your lower back towards the staircase leading to the private rooms. You glance over your shoulder in the hopes of meeting Hunter's eyes, but he's nowhere to be found. Kriff. You wanted to do this alone, and now here you are. Alone.

Once you reach the top of the stairs, the target takes you by the hand and leads you down the hallway. It's empty, and you can feel your stomach sinking with every step you take. You try your best not to drag your feet, but the hot breath on your neck and the hand pressed against you is anything but encouraging.

When you arrive at a door at the end of the hall, he crowds you against it, eagerly pressing his hardness to your lower back as he wraps an arm around your stomach. He types in the code, and as soon as the door slides open, he releases you to shove you inside.

The room is a small square with a bed and a single chair. The only other door leads to a refresher, but much more worth noting is the small window embedded deep in the wall behind the bed. It'll require climbing up to reach, but it's large enough for you to slip out and drop to the roof below. Easy.

The door slides shut, casting the room in shadow.

Time to put your skills to use.

"Don't move," Vesh orders. There’s a strange, misplaced sound, like metal clicking, and it takes you a moment too soon to realize.

You turn slowly, and the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold. The barrel of the Vesh’s hand cannon stares you down, his glowering face just behind it. 

“I must say, you put on quite the display back there,” he says with a tilt of his head.

You swallow hard, your eyes flicking from the blaster to his face.

"But you just had to go and ruin things, didn't you?" he snarls, taking a step toward you. “You almost had me convinced. But I know what you’re really after.”

You freeze, your eyes widening. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can feel the panic rising in your chest. Your eyes flick to the door behind him, hoping beyond hope that it hadn’t locked automatically.

"You think I haven’t dealt with thieves before? You're not the first,” he sneers. “Though I will admit, you are the most attractive."

"Well, you got me." You hold your hands up, palms facing outward. "I'm sorry. Now, just let me go, and we can forget this ever happened."

Vesh gives a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I don't think so." He steps closer, his grip on the blaster tightening. "I think you're going to stay right here and do exactly what I tell you."

“Wait—let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“How about this: you strip, and I’ll think about not blowing your pretty little head off. How does that sound?"

Your eyes dart from the gun to the door, then back again. Your mind is racing, and you know you need to think fast. If you can get close enough to him, catch him by surprise, you might be able to make it out of here in one piece with your prize.

You bite your lip, considering. If you play your cards right, this could work in your favor.

"Okay, okay. I'll do whatever you want," you say, your voice trembling.

"That's my girl," he growls.

Slowly, you reach up to the straps of your dress, letting them slide down your shoulders. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in every inch of skin as it’s revealed. You hate the way he looks at you, and the thought that this is for him makes your stomach turn, but you need to buy yourself enough time.

Vesh’s breathing becomes heavy, and he shifts his weight, his grip on the blaster slackening ever so slightly.

"More," he growls, his eyes darting to the exposed swell of your breasts.

You take a step forward, then another, until the barrel of the blaster is pressed against your collarbone. The metal is cold, and the promise of death lingers in the air. But it's enough. It gives you just enough room to maneuver.

You prime yourself to spring forward, your fingers closing around the handle of your knife, but you’re thrown off when the door slides open, bathing the room in the light of the hall.

A gloved hand appears, pushing the blaster aside, and Vesh lets out a surprised grunt. You stumble backwards, your back hitting the wall as you watch Hunter take down the Zabrak. You barely blink, and then the target is flat on his back, his weapon kicked aside and Hunter's foot pressing his windpipe into the floor.

He leans down, and your breath catches.

"Stay down," he growls.

Vesh sputters and coughs, his hands clutching at Hunter's boot. He tries to speak, but Hunter's foot only presses harder.

"What the hell are you doing?" you gasp, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I told you I was coming," he replies, his eyes never leaving the man underneath his boot.

"I had it under control," you insist.

"Like hell you did!"

"What is it with men not thinking I can handle myself?" you demand, throwing your hands up.

"I can't leave you alone for a minute without you nearly getting yourself killed," Hunter snarls, the anger rolling off him in waves. Vesh pushes against his boot, but Hunter's knee presses into his chest, effectively pinning him.

"Get off me!" Vesh spits.

Hunter leans in, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You’re lucky I don’t kill you."

"What the hell are you even doing here, Hunter?"

"Making sure you don't do something stupid," he shoots back.

"I had everything under control."

"Under control? It looks to me like he was about to have his way with you!"

"That was the plan," you retort.

"Plan?" Hunter's gaze snaps to yours, and his eyes are dark. He looks furious. "You mean you were going to let him—"

"He was about to give me what I want," you cut him off, your temper flaring.

Hunter's expression hardens, and he turns back to the Zabrak, pressing his weight onto the man's throat. Vesh coughs and struggles against the pressure, but Hunter's relentless.

"Hunter, stop," you shout, panic rising in your chest. This is going downhill fast, and if you don't do something, he is going to ruin everything.

"No," Hunter says, his voice tight. "He doesn't get to hurt you."

You move forward, grabbing his shoulder and tugging. He doesn't budge. "Hunter, listen to me."

He opens his mouth to reply, but he hesitates, tilting his head. A second later, you hear heavy footsteps pound up the stairs and down the hall.

"We need to go," he snaps.

"No, wait, we’re so close—"

"Now!" Hunter pulls Vesh up and pushes him against the wall before grabbing your arm and dragging you to the window. He throws the latch, and it swings open.

"Go," he orders, gesturing for you to climb through.

"What about you?"

"I'm right behind you. Go!"

You don't need to be told twice. You scramble up the wall and slide through the window, dropping down onto the roof below. The sound of shouting and running feet comes from behind you, and you spin around to see Hunter climbing out the window.

"Come on," he says, grabbing your arm again and pulling you across the roof.

You run to the edge, and you hesitate. "It's too far," you say, looking down at the narrow street below. 

Hunter doesn't seem to hear you. He blows past you, scaling down the wall with ease. You watch him go, jaw slack. Is he really just going to leave you behind?

He reaches the bottom of the alley and turns back, his face illuminated by the glow of the street lamps. "Jump! I’ll catch you.”

“You can’t be serious!" You yell.

"Do you want to get caught or not?" he yells back, his arms spread wide.

You glance back, and your heart leaps into your throat. Vesh’s angry face appears in the window, followed by his hand cannon.

There's no time. You have to go.

Taking a deep breath, you jump.

For a terrifying moment, you feel weightless, suspended in midair. Then, strong arms wrap around you, catching you and pulling you close. You fall back against the wall together, and you bury your face in his neck, your heart pounding.

"See, I told you I'd catch you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're crazy," you mumble.

"And you're reckless."

You lean back and glare at him, and his grip on you tightens. You can't believe he dragged you away from the job like that. He ruined everything.

"What now?"

"Now we get the hell out of here and go home," he says, setting you down on your feet. You immediately pull out of his grasp, ignoring the way his hand lingers on your arm.

"What?" you hiss. "What about the job?"

"Forget the job." His hand moves to grab yours. "We're leaving."

You let out a sigh and let him pull you along. As you run through the streets, your mind races. The night didn’t go the way you planned, but somehow, you made it out. And if you’re honest with yourself, a part of you is relieved. Relieved that you didn’t have to go through with your plan. Relieved that Hunter was there to protect you. But your relief is tinged with frustration. Frustration at yourself for letting your guard down. Frustration at Hunter for being right. 

And, more than anything, frustration at the fact that you’re going home empty-handed. Again.

As you run, the sounds of the city fade away behind you, and you can't help but feel like this is only the beginning. Like this is just the start of your troubles. Because the truth is, Hunter’s right. You are reckless. And when it comes to your own safety, you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want. Even if it means risking your life.

As soon as the two of you are back on the ship, the doors seal, the engine rumbles to life, and the atmosphere around you turns yellow and then black. You let out a breath and lean back in the copilot’s seat, your stomach roiling.

Hunter doesn't look at you.

He didn’t say anything as you entered the cockpit behind him, his jaw tense and his expression blank. When you sat down, he put the ship on autopilot, and then simply stared out the window, his eyes fixed on the stars.

You can't stand it. The tension in the air between you, the unspoken words. It’s suffocating. You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and you hate it.

"Hunter..." you start, not even sure where you're going.

"Don't."

The word is harsh, sharp, and it cuts through you like a knife. Your mouth clamps shut, and you sit back in your seat, your eyes wide.

Hunter's gaze is still fixed on the stars, his expression inscrutable. You can't read him, can't tell what he's thinking. He's closed himself off to you, and it hurts more than you want to admit.

"Hunter, please."

He shakes his head, his fingers tightening on the controls. You can hear them creak under his grip. "You should shower.”

"What?"

"You should shower. Clean yourself up," he repeats, his voice tight.

"No," you snap, your temper flaring. You don't care if he's upset. He doesn't get to treat you like this.

His shoulders tense, and his jaw clenches.

“You smell like him,” he elaborates.

Your blood runs cold. You didn't notice. The adrenaline must have been covering up the scent, but now that he mentions it, you can't help but feel the ghostly touches. Hands and claws and lips on your skin, the scent of booze and cigarra smoke.

You suddenly feel guilty, and it’s not a feeling you're used to. Your hands clench into fists in your lap, and you try not to think about the way his lips felt on your neck, the way his hands felt on your body.

Your mouth opens and closes, the words stuck in your throat.

 “We’ll talk when you’re done,” Hunter says, his eyes still not meeting yours.

You sit there for a moment, your hands clenched tightly in your lap, and you can feel the heat building behind your eyes. You know he's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. 

“Fine.” You swallow thickly and stand up, your legs trembling slightly. The crystals dangling from your dress ping together with the movement, and you swear you see him flinch at the sound. You don't look back as you head out into the common room.

You grab some clean clothes and your toiletries and head into the refresher. When the door closes, you sigh and lean against it. You can still feel his hands on you, and you want to scrub your skin raw until there's nothing left. You shake your head and push the feeling away. It's not productive. Instead, you strip and step into the shower, allowing the water to wash away the night.

It was far from the first time this has happened to you, but it never gets easier, not entirely. You’re just numb to it. Just another in a long line of unsavory decisions you've had to make in an effort to survive in the galaxy. To feed yourself and keep a roof over your head. To get what you need. But this... this feels different, somehow.

Hunter shouldn’t have seen you that way. He shouldn’t have seen you so desperate, so willing to do whatever it took to get what you wanted. No one should see you that way. But especially not him.

You scrub your skin until it’s red and raw, but it doesn't seem to matter. The shame and frustration inside you continues to build, your fists clenching and unclenching as you replay the scene over and over in your mind.

The way Hunter looked at you, the anger and disgust in his eyes.

It's the same way everyone else looks at you.

You've always been seen as less than. Less than worthy. Less than capable. Less than important. It's not something that's ever bothered you before, but now, in front of him, it does.

It stings.

It shouldn't, but it does.

And you hate it.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax, your shoulders slumping. The water cascades down your body, washing away the grime and dirt, the evidence of the night's activities.

It's not a big deal, you tell yourself. Hunter was just trying to help. And maybe you needed the help.

As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. You were reckless. You're used to being on your own. To making your own decisions and dealing with the consequences. Working with a partner — a team — is new. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely new. Hunter made it clear from the start that you're in this together, but clearly he wasn’t ready to see you like this.

It isn't the first time you've used your body to get what you want, and it won't be the last. It's a useful tool, one you've honed to a razor-sharp edge. You can read a room and a target in an instant, and you're always prepared to think on your feet.

Hunter’s seen you at your best — smart, witty, skilled. But now he's seen you at your worst. Vulnerable. Desperate. Pathetic.

And he doesn't like it.

You understand why. You don't like it either.

As soon as you’re clean and dried, you get dressed. You don’t linger in the refresher, don’t even bother to look in the mirror. You just grab your things and leave. You have no desire to spend more time than necessary hiding away.

When you return to the cockpit, Hunter is still there, his eyes fixed on the streaks of light outside. He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and the silence between you grows thicker and more oppressive.

"You want to talk," you say at last, breaking the tension. "So let's talk."

"Fine." Hunter stands and pushes past you, stalking through the cockpit toward the common room. You follow, your heart hammering in your chest. You're not sure what to expect, but whatever it is, you know it's not good.

As soon as the two of you are in the common room, Hunter rounds on you, his expression dark.

"You jeopardized the mission."

Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

"Excuse me?" Your anger flares, and you step closer to him, your chin jutting out. "Need I remind you whose mission this is?"

"And need I remind you that we're a team? We're supposed to work together."

You scoff, shaking your head. You can't believe him. After all that, this is what he's upset about?

"We are working together," you snap.

"Is that what you call it?” Hunter growls. "Because to me, it looked like you doing everything you can to prove you don't need my help."

"I don't!”

"Clearly." His words are heavy with sarcasm, and it makes your skin crawl.

You hate him, hate the way he makes you feel, hate the way he can read you so easily. He's always been able to see through you, and it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. You can't stand it.

"Look, I don't need you telling me how to do my job."

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so reckless," he shoots back.

"Reckless?" Your voice rises, your temper getting the better of you. "That's rich coming from you. I'm not the one who charged in there guns blazing and nearly got us both killed."

"But I'm not the one who was going to sell myself to some lowlife for a chunk of rock!”

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" he snarls. He steps closer, looming over you, his eyes dark with anger. You refuse to be intimidated, but your stomach does an unpleasant flip.

"Yes, really," you snap, holding his gaze. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You went off script. We agreed we’d approach the target together and you just went right up to him!” He’s shouting now, and his voice echoes in the small room. "You didn't tell me the plan. You didn't wait for my signal. You just acted without thinking. Just like always."

"I had it handled," you yell back. You jab at his chest plate with a finger, and unsurprisingly, he doesn't budge an inch. If anything, he leans closer.

"Handled? You call getting caught 'handled'?"

"If you hadn't barged in, I would have had him eating out of the palm of my hand," you insist.

"You can't be serious. That man was seconds away from having his way with you!” he shouts. “He was going to use you, and when he was done, he was going to kill you. And I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it."

You scoff and roll your eyes. This is ridiculous.

"So that's what this is about? You're mad because I didn't let you play the hero?"

"Haar'chak, I'm mad because I'm the only one around here who seems to care if you live or die!"

You reel back as if struck. You're not sure if it's the sudden realization of what he said or the fact that he's shouting in your face, but whatever the case, it feels like a punch to the gut.

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come out. Hunter's eyes are dark, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line. He's breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. You've never seen him like this, so angry and out of control.

"You don't think. That's your problem. You act on impulse and don't think things through. It’s like you don’t care at all about your own safety."

"So what?" you finally manage.

"So what?" Hunter echoes, his voice incredulous. He steps back, his arms gesturing wildly. "So, what if you hadn't been able to seduce the target? What if he had seen through your little game and shot you? What if I hadn't been there to stop him?"

"Well, thank the Maker that you were, isn't that right?"

"This isn't funny!"

"I'm not laughing," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're so--" He breaks off, and takes a deep breath. His hand covers his face, and he shakes his head. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and strained. "You act like it doesn't matter, like your life doesn't matter. But it does."

His words take the wind out of your sails. You've never heard him sound so... defeated. Like he's tired of fighting. Like he's given up. It's unnerving.

You're scrambling for something, anything to keep your anger burning. It's the only thing holding you together right now. If it fades, if you let yourself feel the shame and guilt and humiliation, you'll fall apart. And you can't let that happen.

"You don't understand," you mutter, turning away from him.

"You're right, I don't.” He grabs your shoulder, forcing you to face him. His eyes search yours, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand why you're so willing to throw yourself into danger like that. You deserve better than that."

"Better than what?"

"Better than this." He gestures around the ship. “Better than having to use your body as a weapon. Better than letting Cid take advantage of you."

"That's my choice," you snap, pushing his hand away, and it falls back to his side. "This is my life, Hunter. This is what I've had to do to survive. It's not pretty, but it's the only way I've found that works."

"There's a better way," he says, his voice firm.

"Not for me. Not when all I have is this." You gesture to yourself, to your body, and he flinches, his jaw clenching. "I have nothing. I'm nobody."

"You're not nothing," he insists, stepping closer to you. "And you're not just some weapon to be used and thrown away. You're important."

"I'm not."

"You are," he says, his voice low and rough.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I—" He pauses, and his gaze softens, his eyes searching yours. "I care about you. I care about what happens to you."

The words echo in the small space between you, hanging in the air like a bomb ready to go off. Your heart races in your chest, and you take a step back.

"Hunter, I—"

"No, don't." He closes the gap between you, his hands reaching out for yours. "Just, please, just listen. I know I'm probably the last person who should be telling you this, but you need to hear it. You need to know that you're more than just a body to use. You're so much more. You're strong, and capable, and kriff, you're brave. Too brave. But that's not a bad thing. It's just part of who you are. And I..."

His hands are warm on yours, his voice a low rumble. Your stomach twists into knots, and your head spins. Hunter cares about you. He's said the words aloud, and you don't know how to process them.

No one has ever said that to you before. Not like this.

"I know what it's like to be used. To be seen as nothing more than a means to an end. I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of." He pauses, his eyes searching your face. "And I don't want that for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart aches. You can't believe what you're hearing.

“I’m sorry for yelling." Hunter says, his voice strained.

"It's fine," you mumble.

"It's not. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. But seeing you like that, with him..." His jaw clenches, and his fingers flex around yours. "I hate it. I hate seeing you like this, using yourself like this. You deserve better, and I'm not just saying that. It's true."

You're not sure how to respond. A part of you is still angry, still hurt, still defensive. But a larger part of you is moved by his words, by the concern in his voice. He means what he's saying, and that's enough to make the knot in your stomach loosen ever so slightly.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize."

"No, I should. You're right. I should have talked to you before I did anything. I should have trusted you."

"It's not that I don't trust you," he says, his hands sliding up your arms. "I do. I trust you with my life. But I care about you too much to watch you get hurt."

"Hunter, I—"

"You don't have to say anything. I know I've probably crossed a line, and I'm sorry. I just had to say it."

"Thank you," you murmur.

You feel him shift, and when you open your eyes, he's close. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against him. He rests his chin on top of your head, his grip tight. It feels good, being held like this, and a sense of peace washes over you. You're not used to feeling safe, but with Hunter, you do. It’s a bit terrifying that he’s come to mean this much to you.

His thumb strokes along your spine, and you lean further into his touch. It's intimate, more than you're used to, but it's nice. More than nice. You've never had anyone hold you like this, care about you like this, and it makes you feel warm all over.

"Say it again," you whisper.

"I'm sorry," Hunter repeats, his tone questioning. You pull back and meet his eyes, and the worry, the hope in his expression is enough to take your breath away.

"No, the other thing," you say.

Realization dawns on him, and a small smile plays across his lips. "I care about you."

This time, when the words are spoken, they don't hurt. They don't sting or burn. They settle over you like a warm blanket, like a comforting embrace.

You smile, and a small laugh escapes you. It's a silly, stupid sound, but you don't care.

"You care about me," you repeat, as if saying the words will make them more real.

"I do," Hunter says.

His hands cup your cheeks, and he tilts your head up, his gaze searching yours as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, and then he's kissing you, his lips warm and gentle on yours. You close your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest as you melt against him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

Kissing Hunter is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. It's soft and sweet, but there's a hint of hunger, of desperation, like he's been holding himself back. You can't help but smile, and his lips curl into a smirk against yours.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath hot on your skin. You feel giddy, drunk on the kiss, and you can't keep the smile from your lips.

"Hunter..." you begin, but you're not sure what else to say.

"I meant it," he says, his voice a low rumble.

Your smile widens, and your hand reaches up to trace along his jaw. His stubble is rough under your fingers, and you can't help but admire the sharp lines of his face.

"I care about you, too,” you whisper.

He smiles, and his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heart is still racing, and you feel like you're floating, like your body is made of stardust and light.

Hunter's gaze is tender, full of affection, and it's almost too much to bear. He makes you feel like you're the only person in the galaxy, and it's a feeling you've never experienced before. It's overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

"I'm still mad at you," he whispers.

"I know," you say, smiling. "But I'm mad at you, too."

"Fair enough."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours once more. The kiss is brief, but it sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but chase after him as he pulls away.

He lets out a muffled noise of surprise as you crash your lips onto his. You kiss him, hard, pouring everything you feel into the moment. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he kisses you back. His mouth is hot and insistent, and you feel the heat of desire pool in your belly.

You've kissed plenty of people in your life, but never like this. Never with such abandon, such need. Never with such raw passion. You can't get enough of him. You press your body against his, desperate to be closer, and he responds in kind. 

It's like a dam has burst, the two of you crashing together in a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Hunter guides you back until you’re pushed against the wall, his body caging yours. His hands are everywhere, on your waist, your hips, your breasts. Your fingers dig into his back as your leg lifts to hook around his waist. He takes the hint and grabs it, then the other, lifting you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands slide under your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin. He pins you against the wall with his body, and you can't help but moan at the contact. You're already aching for him, and the feeling of his codpiece pressing against your core isn't helping.

When his lips finally leave yours, you're gasping for air, your body trembling with need. Hunter's eyes are dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kisses. You've never seen him look so undone, and the thought that you did this, that you're the one responsible for the desire burning in his gaze, makes you dizzy with lust. 

He looks at you, his gaze raking over your body, and he swallows hard. His voice is low and husky when he speaks.

"I can't believe I almost lost you," he says, his breath warm against your skin. "If anything happened to you..."

"It didn’t," you whisper. You reach out and gently trace the outline of his tattoo. "I'm here. I'm safe."

"You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes meet yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. "Don't ever do that again."

You bite your lip, and a sly smile spreads across your face.

"What?" Hunter asks, his eyebrow quirking.

"It's just..." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "You're kind of a hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I'm not the only one who does reckless, stupid things." You tilt your head and smile at him.

His brow furrows, and then realization dawns on him. He chuckles, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"You may have a point," he admits, and you laugh.

You lean in, your nose brushing against his. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans into the touch, his lips brushing against yours. It's gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body is pressed against yours, and you can't help but sigh softly.

"What a pair we make, " you murmur.

"That we do," he agrees. His eyes open, and he pulls back slightly. His gaze is intense, his pupils blown wide. His hands are still on your thighs, and you can feel his thumbs moving in small circles on your skin. It's a tiny gesture, but it makes your heart race, and a shiver runs through your body.

The tension between the two of you is almost palpable, and you can't stop staring at his lips, at the way they're slightly parted, like he's waiting for permission.

You don't hesitate.

You kiss him, hard. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you feel him smile. You can't help but smile too, a laugh bubbling up in your throat.

The kiss grows deeper, and Hunter's tongue slips past your lips. His hands move from your thighs to your waist, pulling you closer. You're completely pinned against the wall, his body flush with yours, and your hips cant against his, desperate for some kind of friction.

He lets out a low groan, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasp, and his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He trails his lips down your jaw, and his teeth graze over your neck, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.

"Hunter," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, his codpiece rubbing against your clit as his hands slip under your shirt.

The feeling is electric, and you can't help but buck against him, desperate for more. He responds in kind, his body rocking against yours, his mouth hot on your skin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, and his lips trail up to your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

"Do you want me to stop?" he murmurs.

"Stars, no."

Hunter laughs, and his lips find yours once more. You can't help but moan, the kiss sending sparks through your body. His hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your breasts. You arch into his touch, and his fingers deftly unhook your bra.

He pulls away just enough to lift your shirt, and you let your bra fall off your shoulders, your hands reaching up to help him take it off. You're left completely bare from the waist up, and his gaze is hungry, his eyes roving over your exposed skin.

He doesn't give you a chance to feel self-conscious. His hands are on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The sensation is incredible, and you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. His head ducks down, his tongue trailing over your skin. When his mouth closes around one of your nipples, you nearly lose it, a moan tearing from your throat.

Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against him, the pleasure building inside you. His teeth graze over your nipple, and his hands slide down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants.

"Please," you whimper, the word slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

He lets out a low, satisfied hum and kisses his way across your chest, his mouth hot on your skin. One hand cups the back of his neck, pulling him closer, while the other grabs his wrist, urging him lower.

Hunter doesn't disappoint. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants and underwear, and then he's stroking you, his fingers sliding easily through your slick folds. You let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand, and he smiles against your skin, his teeth grazing over your nipple.

“Never thought I'd hear you beg," he murmurs.

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, his thumb presses against your clit, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. His touch is electric, and your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more.

Hunter chuckles, his breath hot against your skin, and then he’s pulling away, his fingers slipping out of you.

You nearly whine, the loss of contact making you ache, but then he's dropping to his knees in front of you, and you can't think of anything else. His hands find the waistband of your pants and underwear, and he slowly, tantalizingly, drags them down your legs. You step out of them, and he tosses them aside, his gaze raking over your naked form.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding up the backs of your legs.

He doesn't give you a chance to respond. He hikes a leg over his shoulder and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and a low, needy sound escapes your throat.

"Hunter..."

He doesn't need any more encouragement. He moves in, his tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your folds. Your hips jerk, and he lets out an obscene groan, his hands sliding up to grip your ass. He pulls you closer, his tongue circling your clit before flicking over it.

"So good," he rasps against you, and the sound goes straight to your core.

You can't help but moan, the pleasure building inside you, his mouth hot and wet and insistent. Your hips roll against his face, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He devours you, his tongue delving inside you before returning to your clit. He alternates between teasing licks and hungry sucks, his pace relentless, his desire to make you come clear in his every movement.

The way his mouth moves over you, the way his tongue works you over, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He's focused, his eyes closed, his lips and tongue working tirelessly. He's clearly enjoying himself, and it shows.

You've never had anyone eat you out with such enthusiasm. With such need.

His fingers spread you open, and his tongue plunges deeper, his nose rubbing against your clit. It's almost too much, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. His mouth is perfect, and the pressure is building, the pleasure mounting. You're so close, so kriffing close.

Then, his eyes open, his gaze locking onto yours.

And he doesn't look away.

He holds your gaze as his mouth works you over, as his tongue swirls and flicks and teases. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there's a hunger in them that takes your breath away. Hunter's always been intense, but this is different. This is a whole new level, and it's enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

You come, hard. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a cry, your orgasm ripping through you as you double over, your fingers gripping his hair for dear life. He doesn't stop, his tongue licking up every last drop of your release. Your hips buck against his face, and he groans, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

It's a long moment before you come down, and even then, you're trembling, your body flushed and spent. You can barely stand, your legs weak, but Hunter's arms are there, supporting you. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and you let out a shaky breath.

When you finally manage to open your eyes, Hunter's still kneeling in front of you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Maker, yes," you say, laughing. You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, your mind reeling. “You’ve been holding out on me, Sergeant."

Hunter stands and takes your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours. There's a heat in his eyes, a desire that makes your breath catch in your throat. His thumb brushes over your lips, and he leans in, his mouth ghosting over yours.

“Want more?” he whispers.

"Please."

The word is barely out of your mouth before his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and hungry. He pushes you back, and you let him guide you, his mouth never leaving yours. He steers you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bunk, and you stumble backwards, landing on the bed with a small yelp.

Hunter doesn't waste any time. His hands move to the latches of his chest plate, and he quickly removes it, letting it clatter to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes through the ship, and a jolt of anticipation runs through you.

You're really doing this.

You're really going to have sex with Hunter.

As he steps out of his boots, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and your stomach does a little flip.

You've been dancing around this, whatever this is, for weeks. Months, even. You've wanted him, wanted this, and now, you're finally going to have it.

It's exhilarating and terrifying, and you can't wait.

Your hands reach out for him, and you undo the belt at his waist. It falls to the floor, and he lets out a soft chuckle, his hands finding yours. He lifts them up, and places a gentle kiss on each of your knuckles, his gaze meeting yours.

The gesture is sweet, tender, and it takes your breath away. Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile, a fluttering feeling filling your chest.

This man, this soldier, who's seen and done so much, and still manages to be kind and caring.

Who makes you feel safe.

Who makes you feel cared for.

You can't believe your luck.

"Hunter," you murmur, unable to look away from him.

He pauses, his eyes searching yours.

"What is it?"

"I..." You trail off, not sure how to express what you're feeling. It's all too much, and the words don't seem enough.

He lets go of your hands and cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"It's okay," he says. “We don’t have to do anything you're not ready for."

You laugh, a small, breathless sound. "No, that's not it. I want this. I want you."

His eyes widen, and he swallows hard. For a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Force, the things you do to me," he murmurs, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

You can't help but smile.

Then, his lips are on yours, and the rest of the world fades away.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's raw and desperate, a primal need driving the two of you. His hands are everywhere, and yours are, too. You can't get enough of him.

Your hands tug at the fastenings of his blacks, and he pulls away just long enough to shed them along with his briefs, leaving him naked before you.

Hunter’s skin is hot beneath your fingertips, his muscles taut and defined. You can't help but admire him, his broad shoulders and trim waist, the dark tattoos that cover one side of his body, the scars that mar his skin. He's a sight to behold, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

"See something you like?" he asks, a playful tone in his voice.

Your eyes dip lower, following the trail of hair down his stomach, and a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. His cock is already hard and straining, the tip glistening with precum. You bite your lip, and when you glance back up, you catch him watching you.

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he gives you a sheepish grin.

"Like I said, the things you do to me," he repeats.

You laugh, and reach up, pulling him in for another kiss. You let yourself fall back, and he follows, his body covering yours.

His skin is soft and warm, his muscles firm under your touch. You let your hands roam, sliding over his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere you can reach as he pins you underneath him.

He shudders under your touch, his hips rolling against yours, and a groan escapes his lips. The feeling of his cock sliding against your clit, even with him between your legs, is enough to send a shiver through your body. You can't help but arch up into him, and he lets out a soft grunt, his breath hot on your neck.

“Kriff, you're killing me," he murmurs.

You laugh, and nip at his neck. He gasps, his hips jerking against yours, and you can't help but revel in the feeling.

Hunter is usually so in control, so disciplined, but you can see that control slipping, his restraint crumbling. It's a powerful feeling, knowing that you're the one who's making him lose his mind, and a sense of pride washes over you.

You slide a hand between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and he lets out a choked moan, his body tensing above you. Your thumb teases the sensitive tip, spreading the precum around, and he drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groans.

"Yeah?" you ask, giving him a squeeze.

"Yes," he breathes, his hips rocking into your touch.

"I bet you'd feel better inside me," you murmur.

"Fuck, I bet you're right."

His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you, deep and hard, his tongue exploring yours. You stroke his cock, slowly, and he lets out a muffled moan, his hips thrusting against you.

His hands slide down your body, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart. The movement is rough and sudden, and a small gasp escapes your lips as he holds you open. Your hand falls away from his cock, and he takes the opportunity to settle between your legs, his body pinning you against the bed.

He rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, his eyes locked onto yours. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the tension between you is almost too much, and your heart hammers in your chest.

He reaches down, taking himself in his hand, and rubs the head of his cock against your clit. The sensation is incredible, and a choked moan falls from your lips.

He gives a small, teasing thrust, the tip just barely entering you, and a shudder runs through your body. You want him so badly, and he's barely giving you anything.

You let out a frustrated huff, and Hunter smirks.

"Ask nicely," he murmurs.

You swallow, the heat building between you, and your mind is reeling. You’re too far gone to worry about your pride, and if that's what he wants, then that's what you'll give him.

"Please, Hunter," you breathe, and he lets out a low groan.

Then, finally, he pushes inside you.

It's slow, agonizingly so. His tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and then he's stretching you, inch by glorious inch, the feeling of his cock filling you stealing the breath from your lungs. The way he’s holding you open, the angle he's at, it's all perfect, and it's all for you.

He doesn't stop until he's fully sheathed inside you, and even then, he waits, his cock pulsing against your walls, giving you a moment to adjust. The teasing look in his eye is gone, replaced by a heated desire. He watches you, his gaze roving over your body, drinking in every detail.

The feeling is almost overwhelming, being stretched so completely, and you let out a shaky breath.

"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Good, really good."

He smiles, and gives a small, experimental thrust. You both gasp, the pleasure of the movement making your toes curl. He does it again, and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, and his eyes close, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

"Don't," he grunts. "I'm barely hanging on as it is."

"Don't what?"

“If you keep that up, I'm not going to last."

The words send a jolt through you, and a wicked idea crosses your mind. You rake your nails down his back, and he groans, his cock twitching inside you.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, his grip firm. You can't help but laugh, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"That's not playing fair," he chides.

"What, you can't handle a little teasing?"

He laughs, and shakes his head, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, he starts moving, his hips rolling into you, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt.

The rhythm he sets is steady, but deep. Each thrust is deliberate, calculated, and the way his cock fills you, the way he stretches and rubs against your walls, it's enough to make you forget everything but him.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," you gasp.

"What else do you want?"

"I—"

You're not sure how to answer. You're not used to someone asking you what you want, what you like.

"Tell me," he says, and his fingers lace together with yours, pressing your hands against the bed.

The intimacy of the gesture sends a rush through your body, and your walls clench around his cock. He lets out a surprised noise, his eyes fluttering shut.

When he opens them again, his gaze is intense, a hunger burning in his eyes. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel a thrill run through your body.

You take a deep breath, and try to focus, to collect your thoughts.

It's not easy.

He's not making it easy.

You think back to all the times the two of you have been together, all the times you've teased each other, all the moments where the tension between the two of you has threatened to boil over.

There's a question you've always wanted to ask him, a fantasy you've had ever since you first met him.

And now, it seems like the right time to ask.

"I want...I want to know what it feels like to have you come inside me."

He goes still, his cock throbbing inside you, and a shiver runs through his body.

His eyes widen, and he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You hold his gaze, and your cheeks flush, the confession hanging in the air.

Finally, he lets out a strangled groan, and his head drops to your shoulder.

"That's..." He trails off, his voice rough.

"Is that not—"

"No, that's..." He groans, and his hips buck against yours, his cock pulsing.

You let out a breathless laugh.

You never would have thought Hunter could be flustered. But here he is, the man who can stare death in the face without flinching, and the mere thought of coming inside you has him practically vibrating.

"I've never done that," he confesses, and his voice is barely a whisper.

The confession is surprising, but it's not entirely unexpected. Hunter's life hasn't exactly given him a lot of opportunities to indulge in pleasure.

"Do you want to?" you ask.

"Yes." He lets out a low growl and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "But only if you're okay with it."

"I'm more than okay with it," you say, smiling. "I want to feel it."

"Maker, you're going to kill me," he murmurs.

His voice is a low rumble, and a shudder runs through you. The desire in his words is undeniable, and the thought of him giving into it, letting go, makes you dizzy with lust.

He shifts, releasing your hands, and his own move down to your hips. He pulls out of you, and you can't help but let out a disappointed whine, but before you can protest, he flips you over, pressing your chest against the mattress as he guides your knees beneath you.

He moves behind you, his hands running up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and a moan escapes your lips. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down your spine.

You feel his fingers part your folds, his thumb brushing over your clit. His other hand slides down your back, and then his cock is pushing back inside you, filling you completely. The position allows him to go deeper, and you feel him hit the furthest point inside you, a choked moan escaping your throat as a flood of heat washes over your body.

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and his hands come up to rest on either side of your head. He's practically bent over you, his hips rolling against yours, and the feeling of his weight bearing down on you, the sensation of his skin warm against yours, it's enough to drive you crazy.

You can't believe this is happening, that the two of you are finally here, after all the teasing, all the flirting, all the stolen glances and secret smiles. You feel his lips on your neck, his breath hot and ragged, and a low moan slips past your lips.

You're not sure how long you can last like this, his cock buried inside you, his body pressed against yours, his hands pinning you in place. And judging by the way his hips are thrusting, his pace growing erratic, he's not going to last much longer either.

The thought sends a jolt through your body, and you push back against him, eager to meet his thrusts. He lets out a choked sound, his fingers digging into the sheets, and his breath is hot against your neck.

"Stars, that feels good," he pants, and his voice is strained. “I’m getting close."

The words send a rush through your body, and you can't help but clench around his cock. The feeling makes him groan, and his hands leave the bed, wrapping around your body. One grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, while the other finds your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb.

"I'm going to make a mess of you," he murmurs, and his voice is low and rough, the promise in his words sending a shiver down your spine.

The image flashes through your mind, of Hunter's cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets, and a surge of heat washes over your body, making your toes curl.

"Do it," you breathe, and he groans and pinches your clit, making you gasp.

"I will," he says, his voice a low rumble, and you feel his mouth trail up the back of your neck. His lips find your ear, and his breath is hot against your skin as he speaks. “I want to feel you come, and then I'm going to fill you up. Do you want that, cyar’ika?"

The words are practically a growl, and the raw need in his voice sends a shiver through your body. You can't take much more. Between his words and his cock, you're about to lose it, and his thrusts are becoming desperate, his movements frantic.

“Please,” you whimper, and that's all he needs to hear.

His thumb presses hard against your clit, and his hips snap forward, his cock burying itself inside you. The pleasure is intense, and a cry falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm tears through you.

He doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting, his rhythm fast and uneven, his breath coming in ragged gasps as your walls flutter around him. You're overwhelmed, your senses overloaded, and you can't help but buck against him, riding the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuck, that's it," he moans, and his fingers tighten on your hip.

His pace is punishing, and the pressure builds, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. He's lost himself in you, and you love it, the knowledge that you're the one bringing him this pleasure.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, and he lets out a broken moan, his hips stuttering. And then, he's coming, burying himself as deep inside you as he can get as his cock pulses. The feeling of his cum spilling inside you, the wet, warm heat of it, sends a shockwave through your body, and another wave of pleasure washes over you.

It's the most intimate, the most erotic thing you've ever felt.

Hunter shudders against you, his body shaking as he gasps, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts. His hips jerk, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you still as he empties himself inside you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, neither of you speaking. The only sound is the ragged breathing coming from both of you. It takes a few minutes for the haze of pleasure to clear, and when it does, he slowly pulls out of you.

He collapses on the bed beside you, and you roll onto your back, looking up at the bottom of the bunk above you.

You're completely spent, the adrenaline and pleasure leaving your body. You glance out of the corner of your eye and smirk.

Hunter is staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his eyes wide.

"You alright, Sergeant?" you tease.

He lets out a huff and turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Give me a minute," he says, and lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

He's beautiful like this, relaxed and carefree, his hair a mess, his face flushed. It's a far cry from his usual serious demeanor, and the sight sends a wave of affection through you. You want to reach out and touch him, but you're not sure if that’s what he wants. You’ve never really done this, never had the opportunity to have someone stay afterwards.

You're not sure what the protocol is, or if there even is a protocol. Do you cuddle? Do you make small talk? What if he's expecting you to leave?

“C’mere.”

Hunter pulls you against him, his arm wrapping around you, and your worries fade away. You snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg over his. His body is warm, and his heartbeat is strong and steady, a comforting rhythm against your ear.

Your eyes flutter closed, and for a long moment, the two of you simply lay there, content to enjoy each other's company. His hand trails lazily over your arm, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

A small, satisfied sigh escapes your lips.

You didn’t expect this to happen, but stars, are you glad it did.

The thought crosses your mind that maybe you should have some regrets, maybe you should have second thoughts. But you can't find it in yourself to care. There is a question on your mind, though, and it’s one you can’t help but ask.

"What does cyar’ika mean?" you ask, your hand tracing the outline of his tattoo.

Hunter tenses, his body going rigid beneath you. You immediately regret asking, and you start to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place.

“Did I say that?” he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He's silent, his fingers absently tracing the outline of your shoulder. You're afraid he's not going to answer, but then he sighs. “It means sweetheart. Darling. Something like that."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh," you manage, and your cheeks flush.

"Sorry, it's...it just slipped out. I wasn't thinking." He shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, and he looks almost nervous. “You don’t mind, do you?”

"Mind?” You blink, and shake your head. A smile tugs at your lips, and you let out a small, surprised laugh. "No, I don't mind."

His brow furrows, and he stares at you, his eyes searching yours.

“It's just...no one ever called me anything like that before,” you say, a little embarrassed.

A surprised expression crosses his face, and then his expression softens. He cups your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"They should have,” he murmurs.

It's such a simple, earnest statement, and the emotion in his voice makes your chest tighten. You look away, suddenly overwhelmed, and a shaky laugh slips past your lips.

“I’m nothing special, Hunter. Not really."

He lets out a small scoff, and the hand on your cheek guides your face back to his, his gaze locking onto yours.

“You are to me."

There's no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty. The words are spoken with a quiet conviction, and the weight of them settles around you, a warmth blooming in your chest and flushing your cheeks. Your heart flutters, and you swallow, suddenly at a loss for words.

"You're cute when you're flustered," he murmurs, his tone teasing. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be shy."

"Shut up," you grumble, and his smile widens.

"No, I mean it. I love seeing this side of you." He pulls you in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulls away, his eyes are warm, his gaze filled with an affection that takes your breath away.

Your heart swells, and you can't help but smile.

It's too soon for love. You know that. But the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, it makes you feel things you've never felt before. It makes you feel like it might be possible, one day.

And that's enough.

You rest your head on his chest again, your hand reaching up to run through his hair, and he lets out a sigh, relaxing against you.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you mumble, unable to stop the words from coming out.

"That's true." His voice is quiet, his touch gentle, and he nudges you, his chin pressing into the top of your head. "But I'd like to learn. If you'll let me."

You're not used to being asked for anything, much less given a choice. Hunter's words, and the implication behind them, leave you speechless. You stare up at him, not quite sure what to say, and his expression falters, uncertainty crossing his face.

You swallow, and nod.

A grin spreads across his face, and he looks like he's trying to suppress it, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's a rare sight, a genuine, unguarded smile from him, and you can't help but chuckle.

The sound is enough to break him. His expression softens, and a low, rumbling laugh escapes his chest, the sound filling the room. You lean in, and kiss him, slow and tender. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and his laughter fades, replaced by a contented sigh.

You've never felt more comfortable, more safe.

Or more at home.

As the two of you lay there, tangled together, you realize something.

You're not sure how it happened, or when, but somewhere along the way, Hunter became a part of your life. And now, it seems impossible to imagine a life without him.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of the future doesn't fill you with dread.

It fills you with hope.

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, your bodies pressed together.

You sleep better than you have in a long time.

taglist: @covert1ntrovert @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @qvnthesia

@arctrooper69 @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster

@lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777 @schrodingersraven

@megmegalodondon

[bamfkeeper]

Fuzzy.

RQ: 'Hello! I love your writing for kurt and I need more!!! Lol, but I've had this idea in my head for a while, but what if you write something where his partner gets overwhelmed easily or anxious and they touch his fur to ground themselves?' - @misfortunate-love

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks

A/N: I had a few different requests for this kind of idea so I wanted to write something that I could cover a lot with, so I went with hcs/drabble for this. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 1.3k

A lot of days felt overwhelming, you often had trouble focusing or getting rid of that dreaded feeling. You always felt a horrible sense of an invisible weight crushing you, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed all the time.

Things can be so overstimulating for you, too many things going on tend to get you stressed and you have trouble calming down from that high.

You reach for him sometimes, just to feel his hand. The texture helping relax you enough to not have a full blown attack right then and there.

Kurt notices this, and he tries his best to help you.

Kurt's voice is a good way to help distract your brain, his accent makes you think a little more, and sometimes he purposefully mixes German and English so your brain catches.

But what helps the most is his fur.

The warmth. The texture. The feeling.

Kurt knows his fuzzy skin is a comfort to you, so whenever he sees you overwhelmed or on the verge of a panic attack, he brings you somewhere private, and he lets you touch him wherever you like.

Most often his arms or chest.

If you're okay with it, he will do skin to skin too. He never makes it sexual, but both of you shirtless pressing into him, you can't help but rub yourself along his fur. It scratches your brain right and it feels like he's getting rid of all of that anxiety.

"Liebe? What is it?" he asks you, his piercing yellow eyes gazing intently at you as he notices the subtle hitch in your breath. His brow furrows with concern, quickly realizing the situation unfolding before him. "Ah, ah, schatz... it's okay, breathe..." he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

His eyes dart around, assessing the environment for any potential triggers or threats. With gentle, reassuring movements, he reaches out, his strong hands carefully grasping your arms. The warmth of his touch serves as an anchor, grounding you in the present moment as he continues to offer words of comfort and support. He hides it well, but he's a little panicked too.

"I-I can't...b-breathe, Kurt-" you gasp desperately for air, your chest heaving as the overwhelming, horrible panic attack takes over your body. You struggle frantically to hold it all in, your hands trembling as you clutch at your shirt. The weight of anxiety presses down on you, an invisible force that seems to crush your lungs and constrict your throat. Your vision blurs, and you feel dizzy, as if the world is spinning around you.

Kurt's face comes into focus, his expression a mix of concern and helplessness as he clearly sees the distress etched across your features. The suffocating feeling intensifies, and you find yourself gasping like a fish out of water, desperately trying to draw in enough oxygen to keep yourself from passing out.

He swiftly embraces you, his arms enveloping you in a comforting gesture, before there was a quick BAMF…and both of you were teleported to the sanctuary of his bedroom. The room, shrouded in darkness, serves as a soothing, metaphorical blanket, enveloping you in its calming embrace. The dim, gentle light filtering through the curtains, the familiar and reassuring scent that is uniquely his, and the pervasive quiet of the space all contribute to a sense of tranquility. This peaceful environment stands in stark contrast to the cacophony of sounds emanating from the other mutants gathered downstairs, their voices and activities now muffled and distant.

Despite the change in surroundings and the momentary reprieve from the overwhelming stimuli, you find yourself still struggling to regain your composure. Your breath comes in rapid, shallow gasps as you continue to hyperventilate, your body and mind unable to quickly transition from the previous state of distress to one of calm.

Kurt, sensing your distress, instinctively knows exactly what to do. With a swift motion, he tears off his top, revealing his muscular blue form. In any other circumstance, you might find yourself staring in awe, but right now, your vision is clouded and unfocused, speckled as you sunk into your panic attack. "Liebe..." he whispers softly, with infinite gentleness, he takes your trembling hands in his own, his touch warm and reassuring.

Slowly, deliberately, he guides your hands to his chest, pressing them against the soft fur that covers his torso. The sensation is immediate and grounding - you can feel the velvety texture of his fur beneath your fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Kurt carefully moves your hands, guiding them along the contours of his body. Each stroke of fur against your skin acted like an anchor, gradually pulling you back from the brink of your intense panic.

As you focus on the feeling, you can sense the fog of anxiety starting to lift. You gradually synchronize your breathing with his, consciously matching each inhale and exhale. His steady, tranquil heartbeat serves as a soothing metronome, guiding you towards a state of calm rather than the erratic state you had been in.

The rhythmic connection you both had demanded the tension in your body to slowly dissipate. Tense muscles relax and you feel sore all over. A small sniffle escapes you, and you notice your voice momentarily catching in your throat, causing a slight hitch in your breath. Your hands rest gently against him, and you become acutely aware of the texture beneath your palms. His soft fuzz tickles your skin in a comforting way, as he had done this many times before in the past.

His familiar touch has always been a source of comfort, acting as a dependable anchor during times of distress. As you continue to breathe in unison, you find yourself gradually settling into a more peaceful state, the panic that had gripped you earlier beginning to loosen its hold.

"There we are..." Kurt replied softly, his voice a gentle caress as he smiled warmly at you. His eyes, filled with tenderness and understanding, met yours reassuringly. "Alles gut..." he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue with a soothing cadence. His lips pressed a series of gentle, peppering kisses to your forehead and temple, each one a silent display of safety and care.

The touch of his affection seemed to work its magic, as he could visibly see the tension in your body start to dissipate. Your breathing, once rapid and shallow, began to slow and deepen. He watched with relief as the panic that had gripped you moments ago gradually loosened its hold, being replaced by a growing sense of calm. Only Kurt could do this, only he had enough knowledge and care to bring you down so quickly and tenderly.

You remained silent, choosing instead to envelop him in a tight embrace, your arms wrapping around his form as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck. The gesture spoke volumes, conveying your emotions more eloquently than words ever could. He understood implicitly, recognizing the weight of your struggles. The constant battle with your mental state was an exhausting ordeal, one that seemed never-ending and all-consuming. He could scarcely fathom the immense pressure you were under, the daily toll it took on your spirit. He got stressed too, but never to this extent. He wished he could take it all away forever.

Sensing your need for comfort and reassurance, he held you close, his strong arms forming a protective cocoon around you. His voice, soft and filled with tenderness, broke the silence after several minutes of holding you. "I've got you, schatz," he whispered, his words a soothed your troubled soul. "You will never have to face this alone, not as long as I'm here." The sincerity in his tone was palpable, a promise etched in every syllable.

As if to emphasize his commitment, his tail gently curled around you, adding another layer of security to his embrace. His entire being seemed to transform into a living fortress, shielding you from the harsh realities of the world outside. In that moment, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his unwavering support, you felt a glimmer of peace amidst the storm of your thoughts.

Nothing could ever get to you here. Not a damn thing.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover images: Screencap X-Men '97, Pinterest

[bunnylovesani]

Daddy Issues 2

Content Warnings: MDNI, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, creampie, both soft and mean dom ani, praise kink, degradation, kinda dubcon, pretty much porn no plot

WC: 2.3k

Filled with so much joy at his admission of love, you turn to face him- leaping onto his lap and kissing him all over. You toss off the panties that were dangling at your ankles and grind over his work trousers.

“Keep these on.” You point at his suit pants while you unbuckle his belt, the sound of the clinking filling you with excitement. The smirk is wiped clean off your face when his dick springs out of his boxers and causes your chest to involuntarily tighten. The tip is blushed pink and glistening with arousal, sitting prettily atop his thick base which sprawls with swollen veins. You salivate when you notice how it reaches beyond his belly button and curves up just a little- neat blonde curls surrounding the base.

You don’t want to be cliche and whine about how it’s not going to fit- but seriously, how was that going to fit? You pensively reach out to wrap both your hands around his shaft, eyebrows furrowing when they aren’t nearly enough to cover the entirety of his manhood.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you can take it nice and easy.” His smooth voice fills the room, anticipating that you would be apprehensive about his size.

“O-okay Ani.” You murmur, big doe eyes staring up at him as you drop to your knees to observe him better. He shuffles about, pushing his hips forward and resting his hands on the back of his head.

Deciding to be brave, you take all of him in at once, bobbing your head lightly as you do your best to please him.

“Relax baby, I’ll love anything you do.” He mumbles supportively and your heart warms as spit pools in your mouth, gushing all over his cock. After you’ve got it sufficiently wet, you pump him with one hand and focus on the tip, sucking and flicking your tongue across it until you elicit sharp moans and groans from his perfect mouth.

Just as you’ve worked up a tempo, you hear Anakin’s distinctly shrill ringtone going off.

“Fuck…it’s Leia. She might be coming home, I need to answer this baby.” He checks his phone screen and scrunches up his face. “Just hold on a second.”

You scowl as he answers the call- he just couldn’t wait, could he? You were going to make him regret that. With an evil smirk, you licked a stripe up his shaft as his eyes widened and his hand attempted to bat you away. You grab him by the wrist, holding it down as you began sucking his cock sloppily- the fervent slurping noises coming from the act no doubt drawing Leia’s attention.

“Aah, no it’s nothing honey, I’m just- uh eating my dinner. Yeah, I made soup.” He shoots daggers at you with his stern expression- but his mouth is open and his eyebrows raised so you know he’s loving it.

“Alright darling, I’ll see you tomorrow. Yea…ah yea, good night!” He chokes out, hanging up as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. “You dirty little girl. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

You shake your head innocently- as best as you could with his dick down your throat.

“She was just checking up on me, she thinks I’m a lonely, old man. If only she knew her best friend was here drooling all over my cock.” He rasps smugly and you feel your cheeks burning with arousal and shame as you come up for air.

“Oh don’t you dare stop now, sweetheart. You really thought I was gonna let you get away with that? Put that pretty throat of yours to good use and choke on my cock. Now.” He commands, grabbing you by the nape of your neck and pushing his dick past your wet lips. You wince at his change in demeanour but feel yourself tingling with excitement at the harsh words.

He fists your hair with a firm grip as he bobs you up and down his length, using you like a toy as you moan and whimper, eyes watering at the sensation of your throat being fucked raw.

“Just like that baby, suck daddy’s cock just like that.” He groans with increasing intensity. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah- hey, why’d you stop?”

He looks down at you disapprovingly as you wipe the spit smeared all over your face off and get up from your knees.

“I can’t make you cum just from that. Old guy like you probably can’t go more than once.” You hum, wondering if your provocation had the desired effect.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow and glares at you amusedly. You stare at him with such innocence that he can almost picture a halo above your glowing angelic face. Anakin picks you by the thighs effortlessly, before throwing you over his desk- flipping you around and pressing his cock against your ass.

“Oh my God Ani, what are you doing?” You gasp as he places his broad hand on your lower back, pushing you so that your tummy lies flat against his cold oakwood desk.

“You’ve clearly only ever been with little boys if you think that one of them” He lines himself up with your dripping entrance. “could fuck you better than me.” He hisses as he slides in seamlessly, grabbing your arms and folding them behind you.

“You think I’m too old to handle a little brat like you?” He sneered, refusing to show his pleasure as you sniffled and whined. “Oh I’ll show you how old guys fuck. But I don’t want to hear you crying that it’s too much. You asked for this.” And with that, he slammed himself all the way in, going back on his earlier promise that he would make it easy for you.

You whine at the intrusion, aches of stinging pleasure ripping through you in such a way that you could’ve sworn he was fucking your brain and not your pussy.

“You’re fine, stop whining and take it.” He pounds into you repeatedly, digging his fingernails into your hips as he moves you into him; the room filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, wet squelching reverberating around his office as you clawed the wooden surface.

You lift your head up weakly and notice the framed photo of you and Leia resting on the corner of the desk and you let out a needy moan at the sight- heart warmed at how obviously he valued your presence in his life. You couldn’t believe your fantasies had finally come true- you’d dreamt about being bent over his desk and pummeled into oblivion a million times but now that your fantasy was a reality, you were overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’ve absolutely drenched me in your cum.” He lets out a low moan. “Wanna do it again?” You nod, whining pathetically.

“Anything for you baby.” He reaches round and starts rubbing circles into your sensitive clit.

A new ripple of sensitivity overtakes you and you swear you can feel every ridge, every vein, every square inch of his cock- deep in your guts. You lean into his big-knuckled hand, allowing his fingers to bring you closer to your climax as he continues pounding into you, flesh smacking loudly and sending you into a cock drunk stupor.

“Please daddy, fill me up.” You whimper. “I need to feel you fuck your cum into me.”

“Oh my sweet little fucked out whore.” He grunts roughly and slams into you one last time, bringing you up and wrapping his arm around your chest as he fills you with cum. Your walls flutter around his cock, clenching as you throw your head back in euphoria and join him in climaxing.

“Fuckin’ love it when you cum all over my cock.” He grumbles quietly to himself.

“Wow Ani, that was -ah!” You squeak in surprise as he throws you over his shoulder and slaps your ass.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He growls and carries you upstairs to his bedroom, where he tosses you onto the mound of fuzzy white pillows piled on his bed.

“But-“

“No buts. I said I didn’t want to hear any whining, didn’t I?” He stares at you hungrily, towering over the bed. “Now lie back and spread your legs.”

You comply with his command timidly, unfurling your thighs slowly to reveal your dripping cunt, leaking with his seed.

“Now that is a sight to behold.” He crawls in between your legs, admiring the dishevelled mess that was your body. “Let’s get this back in, shall we?” He takes two of his fingers and scoops up the trickling cum, pushing it back into your sore entrance. Your mouth gapes open in scandal and your chest burns with a renewed desire.

“Fuck. Please Ani, I need you.” You panted miserably, as if not being filled with him in that moment was a fate worse than death. Being the gentleman he was, Anakin wasted no time lifting himself and pushing into you once more. You struggled to catch your breath and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as torrents of pleasure consumed you. Anakin’s smirking face floated above you, admiring how responsive you were being to him.

“The way you’re reacting you’d think I was torturing you.” He grinned as his eyes flashed brightly. “Bet you’d like that though, wouldn’t ya? Bet you’d love your daddy to fuck you senseless until you’re begging for me to stop because it’s too much. But I wouldn’t.”

The filthy words that came out of his mouth rendered you speechless; you’d never imagined Leia’s dad could be so freaky.

“You’re taking it so well f’me darling.” He lowered himself and whispered in your ear as he pulled his length all the way out, tip kissing your entrance. “Daddy’s so proud of you sweetheart.” He cooed before slamming himself all the way in, rings of cum coating his cock and splattering all over your inner thighs.

“Give me your hand baby.” He takes you by the wrist and rests it on your lower tummy. “You feel that? That’s my dick rearranging your guts.” You glance down and see the bulge coming into view deep within you, blushing profusely.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Aw, are you shy? Even though you were begging for my cum a minute ago?” He mocks you cruelly as you feel the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot deep inside you, acutely aware your orgasm was drawing near.

You cover your face with your hands bashfully but he bats them away in an instant and pins your arms down.

“You weren’t so timid when you were climbing my lap and begging me to fuck you earlier. What’s gotten into you now, huh? My cum slut is quiet all of a sudden. Did I finally succeed in shutting you up? What a fucking miracle.” He spat, stuffing your pussy full as his deep, hasty strokes grew sloppier.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He wraps his hand around your neck and locks his eyes with yours in an intense gaze.

“Mm fuck, yours daddy, it’s yours! This pussy belongs to you!” You let out a sweet little cry as a grin spreads across his handsomely weathered face. “Mmm Ani please!” You sobbed, right on the edge.

“What is it, princess? I’ll give you anything baby.” He whines softly.

“Please let me cum daddy, I need it so badly it hurts!” You choke out a stifled mewl.

“Do you want me to pump another load into you?” He jibes condescendingly, his lips curling into a smug smile. “Why should I?”

“Please daddy! Please let me have it, didn’t I suck your cock like a good girl?”

“That’s right, you were such a good girl for me baby- cum for daddy. Go on honey, let go for me.” He encourages you as he snaps his hips forward even harder, cock throbbing and threatening to spill at any moment.

“Ani, g- gonna cum-” You let out one last squeal as pleasure pulsated through you in an explosive release, reducing you to a trembling, sobbing mess. The sight alone almost brought him to tears as he bottomed out inside you, releasing everything he had to give and filling you up once again.

After a moment of catching his breath, he pulls out and you both glance down to observe the mess you’d made; layers and layers of cum were hanging off his pubes in gooey strings, your inner thighs were coated in your juices and the bedsheets were utterly ruined.

“What was that you were saying about me being too old to fuck you properly?” He sneers, lifting you and taking you into the bathroom while you lowered your head in shame - you couldn’t have been more wrong. He turns the shower on and checks the temperature is alright before guiding you inside.

“Oh baby, you’re shaking.” He notices and holds you around the waist to keep you up. “Was that okay? Was I too harsh?”

“No Ani, it was perfect. You were perfect.” You sigh contentedly.

“You know I don’t mean any of the stuff I said, it just comes to me in the heat of the moment- i-if you don’t like it then please tell me and I’ll never say it again-“

“Ani, quit rambling. I’m yours to do with as you like.” You gaze into his blue eyes, once glazed over with lust but now beaming with love.

“I love you so much you don’t even understand.” He murmurs gently as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I’m the only one who understands.”

Part 1

[goldfades]

adam fantilli has a size kink

✮"𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬!", adam fantilli

♡ ─ word count | 700 words

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, pure nsfw under the cut! lots of teasing, size kink (who woulda thought?), just filthy smut LMAO

♡ ─ taglist |

♡ ─ ev's notes | THANK YOU CELESTE, SIZE KINK AND ADAM WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME SCREAM! also as we all have figured out, i'm terrible with titles so let's just pretend that it's a good one. i'm not gonna lie i don't know if i did this any justice, this is straight up filth i forgot to incorporate a lot of size kink in there LOL. none the less it's an adam fic, y'all should be grateful bc we are all living off CRUMBS.

Adam's hand laid right on top of your bare stomach, admiring your body. You were laying on your back as Adam watched your carefully, slowly drawing circles on your stomach. His hand almost covers the entirety of your stomach and no matter how long you'd been dating, it will never not turn him on.

"Fuck, princess." Adam breathed out as he gazed at your body, his eyes settling on your pretty face. "You're beautiful."

His hand left your soft and you let out a whimper of disapproval, you needed his touch now. "Shh, it's okay baby. Give me a second."

He spread your legs further and quickly settled in between them and you watched him through your lashes, becoming more desperate by the second. "Please, Adam." You whined.

"I know baby, I know. Just wanna take my time with my pretty girl, gonna make you feel so good." He spoke softly but it went one in and out the other, you wanted him to fuck you stupid, now.

You were soaking wet already and Adam had barely touched you, you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so desperate. He had already stretched you out with his fingers so you would be able to take him and now, you were just waiting for him to hurry up and fuck you.

Finally, as if he had read your mind, Adam grabbed his cock and let out a groan, his head falling back. He was so painfully hard, his pink tip leaking pre-cum as he gave himself a few pumps.

He led his cock slowly into you, stretching you out perfectly. You gripped the sheets, your cunt burning at the sensation. He let out a sigh of relief as he entered you, making you clench around him. He wasn't even halfway inside you yet and you already felt completely full.

"Can't take it," you mumbled out non-coherently, your mind being completely on Adam and the way he was making you feel.

"Have a little more trust baby, you can take it." He groaned as he moved your legs up on his shoulders, then put one of his hands on your hips, the other going to clutch your hand. "You got it, sweetheart."

He slowly bottomed you out, making you squirm under him. You felt him all the way in your stomach as he held himself there for a few seconds, letting adjust. You couldn't help but whine under him, gripping his hand. Adam looked down and saw the bulge right in your lower stomach, he immediately moved his hand on top of it and pushed down softly, making you arch.

"Adam!" You moaned out in pleasure, your eyes beginning to tear up from all teasing he'd done previously.

"Doing so good for me, baby. So fucking good." Adam kneeled down and gave you a sloppy kiss before he started to fuck into you, swallowing all yours moans, your head falling back in utter pleasure.

As he fucked you into the mattress, your legs had already began to shake on his shoulders from the impact. You couldn't even think straight, you didn't have anything in your head right now; you were only here, in this present moment.

"Told ya you can take it, baby." He groaned as he thrusted into you, his hands on your hips, pushing you down into the mattress. "Good fucking girl," he punctuated with each thrust.

He missed you so much, with being gone so often now he barely had time for you so he had to make sure anytime he'd gotten with you, he puts it to good use. He couldn't even focus, you were so warm and fit him perfectly, he was convinced you were made for him.

His once calculated and deep thrusts turned messy and sporadic but you didn't care, it felt so fucking good. It felt like the whole room was shaking at the impact as he kept fucking you into the mattress.

You felt the pressure in your lower stomach build up and it finally snapped, hitting you like ton of bricks. Your whole body spasmed as you let out a borderline pornographic moan, gripping Adam's hand as a way to ground yourself. He came as soon as you did, spilling into you. He immediately fell down on top of you, breathing heavily.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[pocket-watcher]

“Would you like to see a card trick?”

I looked over to where the voice came from, confused on how something so softly spoken was heard so clearly in the loud casino.

He was tall, dressed in the uniform of the other workers at each table, holding a deck of cards.

I put down my glass.

“Sure. I need a little magic in my life.” I said, jokingly.

“Well…”

He leant towards me, hand on the table behind me and I felt myself shiver at the sudden closeness. His fingers expertly glided as he shuffled the cards in front of me with one hand.

“Most people think card tricks are magic, but it’s pretty simple really.” His fingers twisted as he pulled cards out of the deck and placed them back in. It was impressive, really, that he was doing it all one-handed.

I wonder what else those fingers could do.

I shook that thought from my head.

“You see,” my eyes met his, “all you have to do is keep your eyes on the cards.”

He offered for me to pick one. I pulled it out of the deck. He made a big scene of covering his eyes so he couldn’t see what card I’d picked.

Jack of Hearts.

I slid it back into his deck, and he uncovered his eyes and began shuffling again.

“See if you can figure out how the trick works.” He said smugly.

“I thought magicians weren’t supposed to reveal their secrets.” I chuckled, watching the cards move up and down.

Front to back.

“You don’t really believe in magic. Do you?” He asked, watching me as I watched his hand.

His skilled fingers still working the cards, fanning them out occasionally before drawing them right back in to a neat deck.

“I’d like to believe in magic. But I’ve been told I’m too logical for that.”

“Ah, well. I could tell that just by looking at you. You’re here in Vegas, but your mind is a million miles away!”

I laughed, guilty as charged.

“Clear your mind. That always helps me think.” He offered.

In and out the cards fanned.

“See, the trick is that I’ve kept your eye on the cards.”

Up and down as he shuffled them.

“Most magicians want to divert your attention. They don’t want you focusing on something that could reveal how it’s is done.”

Back to front and front to back.

“So, someone as logical as yourself should realise that if I’m telling you to focus on the cards…”

Fingers curling around the cards as they shuffled round and round.

“…I’m hiding the real trick from you elsewhere.”

The words sank in, but I couldn’t look away. The pattern on the back of the cards almost seemed to dance as he shuffled them.

“But you don’t care about that anymore, do you?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

For a second I realised my shoulders were slumping. My neck craning forward to look closer at the cards.

“You don’t care that I’ve been sending you round and round. In fact, I think you’re finding it rather enjoyable, aren’t you?”

My eyes felt heavy. A pleasant fog was settling over my mind. It felt like I was sinking into the floor.

“You’re happy to just a it. And to listen. And to watch.”

I caught glimpses of the cards. 9… 8… 7… twisting, turning, constantly flitting from one finger to another.

“So what was the real magic? Come on… I’m sure if you focus you’ll figure it out. Just focus on my voice.”

His face was so close to mine, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away to look at him.

Finally, his dizzying hands stopped. My eyes slowly moved up to meet his. He tenderly pulled out a card from the deck. The Jack of Hearts.

“Is this your card?”