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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months ago

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Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel.

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun.

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off.

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end.

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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hee0soo · 10 days ago

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Coachella, Baby!

Pairing — Song Mingi x afab!Reader

Summary — Not quite sober and having enjoyed the set you were most waiting for, you and your friend enjoyed the rest of your weekend in the desert. Not knowing what else it held ready for you...

Genre — smut, fluff if you squint

Warnings — fingering, penetrative sex , alcohol, stay safe kids and use condoms!

Word Count — 2.5k

Rating — NSFW

A/N — I don't know why i always think i can do smut but here you go! Also i'm a about 8 months late with this so oopsiee :))

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

When your friend had surprised you with tickets for this years coachella to see one of your favorite groups perform, you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss her or smack her for spending so much money!

But now, standing a little to the side with a clear view of Ateez performing on the stage underneath the Sahara tent, you were sure your soul had left your body and had descended to heaven right then and there!

The bass was loud, filling your ears pleasantly, the vibration of the music playing and making the locals dance and bang their heads enthusiastically while Atinys were screaming their lungs out to make the group on stage hear their own fanchat with pride. You were glad that you could experience this milestone alongside those boys while they gave their all during the powerful set list they had chosen for the night.

And the visuals were a dream in and for itself! Unmatched even!

From the captains sudden change to cherry red hair, San's abs flaunted right in your face, Seonghwa's very low cut shirt to Mingi's almost white hair and chest tattoo, you were impressed that your legs were still working when the set was finally over and it was already late at night when you and your friend came back to the hotel.

The plan for the next day was simple. You hadn’t planned any specifics with her, instead opting to just go wherever you liked for the next 2 days and when you saw videos of the members enjoying their time watching other artists you didn’t think much of it. Happy that they enjoyed their stay, you weren’t planning to seek out any of them. You wanted to give them the privacy they deserved and not burden them with questions or attention.

With that in mind, you and your best friend, kept walking from stage to stage until it became dark again and while you watched over the other girl as she downed one shot after the other, you stayed sober enough to be clear minded. At least enough to realize that you had managed to trip over you own two feet and land in the arms of a complete stranger.

Hastily you freed yourself from the gentle hands holding onto your upper arms, apologizing profusely.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you oka-?" you froze in your tracks the moment your not entirely sober brain caught up with the moment. Words that before had come out of your mouth like a waterfall, cut of and you were stunned to silence the second you realized that the person that caught you was not just a random stranger visiting the festival.

Dark brown eyes that somewhat reminded you of molten chocolate stared into your e/c ones and a devilishly handsome yet friendly grin made your heart skip a beat! His white hair looked wild and disheveled; standing into every direction while barely being tamed by the pair of sun glasses atop his head!

The carefree aura surrounding him had you relaxing instantly.

For a moment you just stood there, buffering while you tried to understand what was happening.

"I, uhm, okay?" the deep drawl of his voice went straight to your lower regions, lighting a fire you didn't know had been burning.

Quickly switching gear at the obvious, although adorable, struggle at communication in English, your next words made his face brighten even further if possible. The familiar sound of his own language causing his nose to scrunch up cutely and for once in your life you thanked the seemingly endless nights of studying for giving you the ability to understand and speak at least some Korean!

"I'm sorry Mingi-ssi, I really wasn't trying to bother you!" you explained with a rushed bow of your head.

The tall rapper waved you off. "No, I'm glad I caught you! Can't let a pretty woman like yourself get hurt," the wink he sent you paired with the way he was very obviously checking you out made your cheeks burn. "And your korean is so good too!"

"Ah, thank you that means a lot! I'm also glad to see that you can enjoy yourself like this freely," you said with a head tilt to the stage where ISOKNOCK was still playing. The smile never left his face. "Yeah, I'm really enjoying the view right now…”

Mingi took a step forward, reducing the distance between your body and his as he came to stand by your side while you were vibing to the music.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," you winked and turned back to face the stage. You could feel him hovering behind you, eyes staring at the back of your head for a moment before whispering a soft, "Yeah...”.

Searching the crowd for your best friend, you found her dancing with a tall brunette that was feeling her up rather enthusiastically. The way it looked you knew that she wasn't gonna stay around much longer and would soon search for a spot to fuck the stranger into tomorrow.

She winked over his shoulder at you and you laughed at her antics before she took his hand and disappeared in the crowd.

"Was that your friend?"

You looked at him over your shoulder, nodding and looking upfront again. "Yes, seems like I'll be leaving alone later tho." you chuckled.

"And you aren't planning to do the same as her? Leave with someone to have some fun, I mean?"

His words made you stop your dancing and startled look back at his face again. He was smiling still but something about the twinkle in his eyes caused you to pickup on the ultirior motive behind said smile. It looked almost mischievous!

"Are you offering?"

The surprise in your voice was evident. Did he really just- ask if you were down to go fuck with him? Him? Mingi? Rapper of your favorite boy group? You were already surprised that you had kept your cool once you had known who had caught you and that he hadn't immediately left right after!

The man shrugged, his oversized black jacket with the little fix on drawing printed on, slipping ever so slightly. Revealing a small bit of tattoo on his chest. You gulped.

"Would you agree if I was?"

Suddenly his voice was much closer then before; him having leaned forward to whisper directly into your ear. You felt dizzy. With his front now almost pressed to your back, you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. It left you breathless and the touch of his hand on your waist did not make it better.

Humming quietly you nodded.

"What was that? I need words darling…” he drawled out, the music long having faded into the background.

Fuck!

You swallowed harshly.

"Yes, I would! Please…” you whispered hoping that he could hear you. Mingis hand left your side which you automatically missed until he reached for your hand instead, leading you away through the crowd and away from any people.

Panic struck when you remembered the amount of cameras surrounding you and him and what they could pick up.

He must have sensed that something was wrong. "Don't mind them." Hurrying to get out of the spotlight, the rapper led you to the backstage area, waving at the security guard who nodded at him with a low whistle that had your cheeks burning.

You recognized the trailers that the artists used to get ready for the show or simply to hangout and you almost squealed walking past Sabrina Carpenter!

While you weren't sure where you were being led to, Mingi knew exactly where he was going. The yellow sign with Ateez written in dark purple glitter pinned to one of the trailer doors clueing you in very soon.

Picking the lock swiftly, Mingi gestured for you to come inside before doing the same. The door of the trailer falling shut behind him.

You looked around, taking in the surroundings. There were multiple vanity tables, chairs and an unbelievable amount of luggage standing at the side but what caught your eyes specifically, was the big and very comfortable looking couch.

His hot breath fanned over the exposed skin of your neck, making you shudder and goosebumps appeared on your arms. Your purse mindlessly dropping to the floor and Mingi wrapped his arms around you from behind, plush lips pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot right below your ear, making you shudder.

You tipped your head back, letting it rest against his shoulder. Enjoying the feeling of his mouth trailing down your neck. The soft sting of his teeth nibbling on the skin getting soothed by his tongue licking over the bites like a little kitten. The temperature inside the room suddenly much warmer and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on your skin.

The man let up from your neck to walk in front of you, fingers reaching for you to pull you along, dropping down on the couch and take you down with him. Now perched up on his lap you couldn't stop yourself from pressing your lips to his in an urgent kiss. Not hesitating to reciprocate Mingi let his tongue run over your lower lip begging to be let in. His left hand found purchase on your waist, the left one pushing up the fabric of your skirt and squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

Your breath hitched at the touch and Mingi used the chance to deepen the kiss further.

With clumsy moves and shacking fingers you pulled down the zipper of his jacket, shrugging it of his shoulders and revealing a low cut black tank top and more of his tattoo. Gripping the hem of the shirt you pulled it over his head and threw it carelessly somewhere behind you.

"Fuck, I knew it looked good but damn-" you gasped out, finger tips brushing over his chest and making him laugh loudly.

“Good to know that it had it's desired effect ." he winked and removed your own top to throw it to the side. He admired you with hooded eyes, the strap of your bra slipping down your shoulder. Quick and definitely knowing how, he opened the clasp on the back and with a smooth shrug of your shoulder the offending piece of clothing landed somewhere behind you on the floor.

Mingi used the moment of distraction to lean forward, his plush lips now wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking like he had spend a lifetime doing it. A moan ripped through the silence of the night and you could feel yourself clench around nothing while the rapper used his mouth to tease your breast as his hand fondled the other gently. Thumb flicking over the nub, stimulating it deliciously.

You could feel his other hand resting on your waist, guiding the rolling of your hips against the very prominent bulge in his pants. Until now, you hadn't even noticed that you had started grinding against him and judging by the blissed out expression, Mingi didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

At a particular hard roll against his dick, Mingi Iet up and an almost whiny sound of desperation escaped his throat.

"Want you out of those pants," you panted against his mouth, knowing full well that's what he wanted too.

"Fuck yes, please?" Mingi gasped lowly. His face was scrunched together in pleasure and with barely opened eyes the man nodded again for good measure. At this point he was already so hard that it was almost painful wearing the prison of fabric that were his pants and underwear and the little sounds he made went straight to your pussy.

You could feel your underwear very well sticking to the skin, sure that it was a whole mess in them by now after grinding against him and it wouldn’t surprise you if you had soaked his sweatpants too.

With your skirt scrunched together at your waist you pulled away, his mouth separating from your tits and a sound of disappointment came from him.

It sounded suspiciously close to a whine which in return made you smirk smugly down at him.

“Get these off.” You demanded with a teasing peck to his cheek and loved the wide boba eyes he gave you at the change of tone in your voice. Mingi entranced by the look on your face quickly rushed to do as he was told.

His cock sprang free and hit his stomach before bouncing back and you could feel your mouth watering at this.

“Good boy.” You purred, forcing him to look into your eyes by holding his face just how you wanted it; thumb gliding smoothly over his cheek bone and you let up once more to shrug your panties down your legs.

When you reached for the hem of your skirt, Mingi stopped you and shook his head with begging eyes.

“Leave it, you look so sexy in it…”

So you left it. Hands lowering to his shoulders you sat back down in his lap which Mingi did not stay in for long as he twisted you around so you were suddenly trapped under his large frame, caged in by his arms right next to your head and making it impossible to escape.

Not that you wanted to.

The man above you surged forward to meet your lips in urgency. His cock was rubbing against the inside of your thigh searching for your cunt to plunge into.

“Can’t wait anymore, can i-“ he gasped against your mouth.

“Yes! God, yes pleeease!” you keened in return and let your head sink back into the cushions of the couch, lifting you hips a bit so he could line himself up.

His head caught against the opening of your pussy and you groaned in unison with Mingi when he finally pushed himself in.

It didn’t take much for the rapper to absolutely lose it. As soon as he was sheathed inside you, he lost control over himself. His head fell forward as loud moans filled the trailer and his thrusts were met with the rolling of your hips.

You felt like you were send straight to heaven. Riding the cloud of ecstasy as you got fucked just like you needed him to.

It was evident that Mingi very well knew what to do [don’t argue with me on this cause my man absolutely knows how to fuck!!!].

You were both so wound up that it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up.

You slung your legs behind his ass, urging him to go faster. Your hand reached for his hair to hold onto while your other went down to rub your clit and a high pitched whine fell from your lips and went directly into Mingi’s ear.

His thrusts grew erratic as you both hurled towards your peak.

Your walls clamped down on his dick sending yourself and him over the edge. White hot cum spilled out while Mingi did not stop plunging himself into you, fucking you through the waves of your orgasm to let you ride it and you felt his seed run down the inside of your thighs when his moves stuttered and slowed down.

The pleasurable pain of overstimulation burned through you and neither you nor Mingi had the strength to move. The man let his man rest against your bare chest before letting out a soft chuckle.

“What?” you asked, amusement lacing your voice at his demeanor.

Mingi glanced up with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Coachelly, baby!”

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jimmybutlrr · 2 months ago

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The Love, I Have Longed For

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Tall Thick brown-skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing and Teasing), "drama"

Summary: She came to a realization that Actors can truly act

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, that I have ever wrought. I would really appreciate critical feedback or just feedback in general. I do hope that you enjoy this, as this is based off of a dream I had.

divider from @@uzumaki-rebellion

“Uhh ooh myyy gooood…I'm gonna cum so much” Estella moaned while gripping Aaron's head. Aaron was sucking, licking and eating her pussy like he had been stranded in the Sahara desert and starved for weeks. With his left hand twisting and pulling at her nipple, he slid his tongue between her lips from underneath her hood to her pulsing hole. “Let that shit out” Aaron said into her pussy, adding 2 of his fat, long fingers driving them upwards, hitting her g-spot helping her reach the thing he's been begging for from the past few hours.

“Fuuuucckkkk” as her orgasm starts rippling through her body, causing her pussy to start clenching around his fingers while her clit pulses in his mouth. “Mmmmhmm” Aaron moans on her clit creating a vibration that begins to overstimulate her causing her to push his head away to stop him from continuing to eat her. “Ok I’m done, no more”. Aaron removes his fingers and slides his tongue all over her pussy, taking one last lick between his wife's fat lips. He sits up and leans back to get a good look at her swollen, pulsing clit and pussy clenching around nothing. He looks up, admiring his wife, seeing that her eye’s are closed and she is out of breath. Estella slowly opens her eye’s to see her husband, staring at her in complete love and awe.

She grabbed his big ass biceps, pulling him down, licking the inside of his mouth to taste herself. “Let me put the tip in,” Aaron said, mumbling into her mouth, “As much as I would love for you to stretch me out, we have a party to get to and I now have to shower again,” Estella said, savouring their kiss before she pushed him back and got out of bed. As she was walking away, he slapped her ass and he pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her body, kissing up her neck. He whispered in her ear “Alright but as soon as we get back, you better not fall asleep, because we have a long night waiting for us”. She let out a little giggle, pushing her husband away and walking into the bathroom with him following behind her, closing the door as soon as they entered.

Estella looked at Aaron while he was driving to their destination, she took in how he liked to keep his hair buzzed or how he had barely noticeable scars on his face, that you would only notice if you truly paid attention to the details of his face. She took in note, the sun hitting his eyes, brightening them so that you could see the mix of baby sky blue and coin like grey in his eyes. The beautiful shine from cocoa butter and shea butter baby oil on his beautifully tanned honey coloured skin. Aaron looked to the side to see his beautiful wife truly considering himself as the luckiest man alive. He turned facing the road, picking up his wife's hand kissing the back of it, he said “I am so in love with you……..Every moment I spend with you, makes me want to get down on my knees, rip my heart out of my chest, plate my heart on a silver platter and make it yours, so that all I could live for is you” he said declaring his love for his one and only true love, his soul mate, his wife Estella Pierre causing his brown skinned wife to start blushing and staring lovingly, leaving them in a comfortable silence.

He pulled into the driveway, parking behind the many cars in the lot, turning off the car, opening his door, then ran to open the door for his wife. “ thank you, big sexy” Aaron smiled, leaning down to kiss her, wrapping his lips with hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, roaming her mouth, causing her to moan and slightly pull back “Don’t make me pull you into the back of car, and ride you until I can’t no more” she said sliding her hand down his body and ever so slightly over his bulge. “No, let's hurry up and get inside before I change my mind about this party”. Aron closes the door and locks the car before they make their way up the driveway, opening the door to see all the different people of different professions, from judges to actors to authors. “I know that ain’t who I think that is, yawl finally made it”, said Jayme Lawson, Aarons co-worker said. Smiling, they walked up to Jayme, Estella reaching to hug her first “I was trying to get here earlier but unfortunately we got caught up with something important” said Estella moving to the side, allowing Aaron to hug Jayme next. “It’s nice to finally see Aaron, outside of work instead of cooped up in his hotel “ said Jayme, causing a laugh to fall on those around them. “What can I say I love” - “ I know that ain’t my bestfriend I see” said by Amir, Estella’s best friend. “ohh, you just look tooo fabulous, look at your outfit Dora,” Estella said, letting out a loud laugh. “Uh, you talk too much shit, now follow me and let's go talk about the big, orange, racist bitch made man they just allowed in the election”. Estella, Amir shared a laugh, wrapping their arms around together and walking away for the rest of the group. “Babe, you just gon leave me like that” Estella turned pausing her conversation “Yes, Yes I am, go have fun, I'll see you later” Turning back to her best, they shared a look before walking away to the backyard. Where they spent the next few hours conversing about the bitch made, half dead man, gossip and Megan the stallions new twerk video. “I miss my man” Amir looked over at Estella” In the middle of our conversation ho”, “ Yes, I need just one kiss on my lips”, Amir laughed in disbelief “Do you mean your lower lips?” causing Estella to smirk, “Mind your business” taking Amir’s hand, she dragged him into the house and went searching for her love in the crowd of people.

As they looked through the crowd of people not seeing him, they walked up to kelvin, she asked “ have you seen Aaron, we can’t seem to find him”, “He said he needed to use the washroom, awhile ago, it’s upstairs” Kelvin said yelling over the music, now starting to wonder, what was taking Aaron so long. Estella and Amir shared a confused look, making their way upstairs. As they got further away from the music, they checked the washroom to see it empty. “ You better call him real quick because there's no way that he just disappeared”, Estella picked up her phone, calling Aaron to hear the ringtone he had set for her in the room down the hall. Estella, slowly picked her head up and turned to look at Amir, seeing him stare back at her. She turned back forward, taking long strides to the room down the hall, bracing herself for whatever. Amir, not far behind her, took her hand, stopping her for a second “Babe, I want you to remember that you are an attorney, a black women attorney at that, don’t make no decisions that could affect your career”. Estella nodded, holding her tongue, so that she could hold in the emotions that she was feeling in the moment, she turned, arms locked with Amir’s, they then walked and walked until they reached the room, hearing moaning and groaning. Groans that she could recognize from a mile away, groans that she heard just a few hours ago.

She put her hand on the doorknob, twisted it open to see a sight she thought she would never see….Her husband Aaron Pierre, Fucking his co-worker Jayme Lawson in the mattress, hearing Jayme tell her husband, she loved him…and him saying…it…back. Aaron felt a weird sensation of someone staring at him, he looked towards the door, his heart dropping as he saw his wife and noticed a single tear slide down her face. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like”. Estella paused her crying, turning to look at Amir, they shared a laugh, Estella reached forward and grabbed the doorknob closing the door, all while Aaron pulled himself out of the women on the bed and tried to put on his pants to be able to reach his wife before she left the house, to then try and persuade his wife that he loved her and only her but it was too late.

Estella already walked out the house, coming to the realization that the love of her life, is only the love of HER life … .as she is not his.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy

@planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo

@jenlovey

@avoidthings

@kimuzostar

@skvrpion

@theereina

@megamindsecretlair

@theereina

#terry richmond #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #Spotify

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elegantpersoncreation · 7 days ago

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"You give me all the glitters of the moon and the stars. Their light pooling in your eyes. You are my world. You brighten my soul like the sun piercing a cold Sahara dawn, A warmth where life once seemed barren. You are my prayer point..."

#poerty #poem #poesia

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leodette · 7 months ago

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And Now My Head Hurts | MV33

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Max Verstappen x OC (not named)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: too many drinks results in a headache

warning: alcohol consumption mentioned

requested: yes / no (my dear friend @coff33andb00ks asked for some soft Max and a headache)

**********

A loud smack of the door woke her up. The sun was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, and she groaned, squinting her eyes against the intrusive beams.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice resonated from the door, and she buried her face deeper in the fluffy pillows. A small fury body curled against her upper arm, causing her to finally open her eyes and frowning at the familiar cat. Sassy had a look in her eyes that clearly said “and who do you think you are, since there is no breakfast in the bowl?”

No, the cats didn’t care that she was hungover. But her boyfriend seemingly did, because in the next moment the mattress dipped as the Dutch driver sat on its edge, gently patting her hair.

“You’re awfully awake for the amount you drank yesterday,” she murmured, feeling jealous. After Max’s win in Barcelona they took the private jet back, offering lift to McLaren boys as well as Leclerc brothers and their respective partners. She had a great time catching up with Alex and Jade while the five boys had their own debriefing after pretty eventful race. And even though there was still some tension in between Lando and Charles, they both decided to ignore it for the time they were in the plane.

And as usual, Max proposed Jimmy’z as an evening plan. It was their usual schedule, especially during European races - finish race, fly home, go party.

She remembered drinking probably too many Skinny Bitches while dancing her soul out. She also recalled Max’s hands on her hips, pulling her close to him, whispering naughty words in her ear that made her feel things. But sadly, they weren’t able to get to them. Because after that, she remembers nothing. A loud groan escaped from her throat, her face falling back to the cushions.

“Morning regrets?” Max asked, and she just whined in confirmation.

“My mouth feels like Sahara desert. And my head hurts,” she finally looked up at her boyfriend. He was slightly sweaty, dressed in running shorts and tight t-shirt with familiar bull logo on chest.

“Please tell me you didn’t go running,” she whined, earning Max’s chuckle.

“I could tell you I wasn’t, but you don’t want me to lie to you,” he leaned closer and kissed her forehead, his eyes softening when she gave him murderous look.

“How about this - I help you to shower, you will eat some of those packet noodles that you love, then take some painkillers, and we will take a nap together,” Max murmured, each part of his ‘master plan’ earning her a peck on lips.

“Hmmm, that could work,” she nodded and slowly sat down, making sure her balance was on.

“Damn that hurts,” she pressed a ball of her palm to her forehead.

“I know, sweetheart. C’mon, you will feel better soon,” he gently grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up, his muscles flexing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck.

“I love you,” she murmured, earning herself a chuckle.

“I love you too. Even when you stink,” Max smirked and kissed her temple, the comment resulting in her weakly smashing her fist in his upper back.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen one shot #request

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soulmusicsongs · 3 months ago

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youtube

Alikali Adajo - Sahara All Stars Band Jos (Sahara All Stars Band Jos, 1976)

#Soul Music #Soul Music Songs #Music #Music Songs #Soul Sahara All Stars Band Jos #1976 #EMI #Alikali Adajo #Youtube

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kurokawaia · 7 months ago

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❛ The Balance ❜ ─ 01

Yandere!JugramHaschwalth X Fem!Quincy!Reader

WC; 2.6k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; yandere themes, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, kidnapping, coercion, reader is a virgin, reader acts dumb/oblivious, kind of an airhead guys so if you don't like that then don't read it, she's shy and timid!

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯; Yandere!Jugram kidnaps the reader with the help of the Bambies. The reader becomes pregnant with Jugram's child but wants to abort due to the circumstances and tries to keep it a secret. Jugram finds out, becomes furious, and insists on a coerced marriage. The reader escapes to the human world, but Jugram tracks her down, discovers her plan to abort the child, and forcibly takes her back - @sahara-solaris-solace

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 - m.list | bleach m.list

That day stands clear in my memory.

It's all many years past, but today, it comes home to me most sweetly, for I was at work in my flower shop, putting half-finished bouquets in their vases, when disaster struck our quiet, small town, which now contained but a few of the last holdout Quincies. The peace was shattered, people taken. but it was nobody but me. It was just my bad luck that it happened to be me that was kidnapped at that time.

This will forever be in my mind. Five women-strong, unstoppable-entered my store. Their faces were grim, the intentions obvious to the point of glaring. They took me against my will, the hold not letting up.

I cried out for help, yet not a soul replied to my call. The fear that gushed within me as I yelled for help—none of the villagers came to my rescue. It felt like the world had frozen me.

The first to catch my eyes were the uniforms the five ladies wore. They all had immaculate white trench coats, trimmed with gold. What I saw in those clothes brought out haunting familiarity in my mind. It was the same attire worn by a man who appeared in my shop not so long before this occurred.

Tall, curling lines of blonde hair loosely down over his shoulders. He looked every bit the part of strong authority. He was also in a white trench coat, dark green fur from his left collar going down the front, a dark green belt, and a golden belt buckle.

I couldn't help thinking that he must be of the same group as those women, not otherwise than having inherited the membership from them. But if so, why didn't he just take me himself where and when he would have had a chance? Why send these women after me?

I turned back to the gentle tinkle of a bell heralding a would-be customer. My eyes met a man's—tall, pretty, handsome.

He did have chiseled features—eyes of mixed blue-green, almost catching the eye, like gazing at the still sea on a sunny day. With that odd kind of fashion look, I could not take my eyes off him.

I greeted him warmly, with a small smile and a clutch close to my chest where a bouquet was held, almost too carefully arranged.

HIS eyes roved over the scarlet anemones. He began quietly, watchfully look at the bouquet I am holding. But under the surface of that quiet front, just below the call, appeared to me a thin kind of leavening of uncertainty, a flicker of something I could not at once define.

And that was just when I thought I caught a flicker of what had been vulnerability in his eyes, and my heart went out to the man. Surprising was the fact that already I was forming a sense of pity for this stranger who was so obviously mysterious to me.

"Mister, if you would not think me prying," my voice was both soft and genuinely concerned, automatically tilting my head, "but you look lost. Any way I could help?"

The words had fallen gently, laced with true warmth.

He just remained silent, continuing to look at me sharply, as if in search of something.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, a wave of unease passing through me at his intentness. Curiosity, suspicion, or something else of the sort—that powered this stare, I didn't know.

I mustered up every droplet of courage and made a suggestion. "If you fall ill," I slowly spoke in a very soft and almost hushed but extremely sincere tone, "my way of herbal and natural remedies and medicine stuff—it may be that I often make stuff that could ease your discomfort."

Then, it was as though my words fell into some uncertain silence as his eyes held mine, an inscrutable look still in the gaze. Nervously, I pressed my mouth closed; the only sound was my held breath, waiting for him to speak.

"What I guess I'd like is some herbal tea," he said, and for just a second, I was taken aback by his request.

"Oh, sure," I said, just slightly dazed. "Sorry, it's just that it's kind of rare when someone asks quite this directly."

I began to unfasten his cape. I focused on what was underneath—the white trenchcoat, equally well-mended, and equally clean, featuring the dark green fur, and the glinting gold belt-buckle which had been the first thing that had attracted my attention.

His uniform was so familiar, but still, I could not place it.

He slightly nodded in response, no expression on his face, but his eyes were dark, which all of a sudden gave me the chills. "The one who says himself that he sure is an exceptional chap at herbs and natural healing technique.", he asked back, his voice now low and measured.

I caught myself swallowing and nodding firmly, taking a brief moment to work very hard at keeping my cool. "Yes, that's right," I replied. "And what ails you? The more specific you can be with your details, the better I shall be able to mix up something that will serve you well."

"Clouded mind," he replied.

"I see," I nodded, with a half-smile reassuringly, though feeling quite ill at ease right now with a gnawing sensation in my stomach. "Please, sit there at that table and chair—and I will mix something up that will help you think more clearly."

I felt his eyes still burning on my back as I turned away and headed towards the store's back room, watching every move I made with an intensity bordering on creepy.

I closed the door to the back room behind me. I slid back against the door and let out a soft sigh that freed my tension from my body, before I then had sunk to the floor in one movement. Still, I held the bouquet against my chest.

That stare of his had been so intimidating—one might even have gone so far as to say a tad creepy—that it had left behind an impression. Shivers went down my spine just from that thought.

I shook my head to rid it of the remains of his overpowering aura and squared myself in preparation for the task at hand. He needed help and it was my duty to provide him with precisely that. I walked toward the shelves that carried the plethora of dried flowers and herbs, each of them selected for explicit healing properties.

Lavender, peppermint, sage, rosemary, holy basil, gotu kola—the only purpose they had now was to come together under my hands. Their smells fanned the room, where I worked in silence. Each herb had its own peculiarity, and in a mighty combination of nature's cure.

Turning my steady hand, herbs got ground into fine powder, and the required amount was put into the pot, which held a little hot water. I could see them swirling in this steaming liquid. It had already settled from boiling in the blink of an eye, and bright colors of the herbs were now laid asleep on the bottom of the pot.

The tea made, I poured it carefully into the fragile porcelain cup, whose brim I raised hot to the touch. And looking into the saucer, with a new cup of brewed tea, I sipped cautiously to check the temperature. It was just right for the man whose return I was getting ready for.

I balanced the tea cup, full of herbal tea on the saucer, into the front region of the shop. Wordlessly, his body relaxed into the chair, although his face was shut down, and I felt a sort of fluttery little tickle in my chest.

I set the cup down in front of him with a gentle clink, giving a small smile that I hoped would seem kind. "Here you go," I offered softly, almost whispering. "I hope this helps."

He nodded a bit, finally looking up to meet my eyes, his features softened. "Thanks," he rumbled in a low.

I sat down beside him and watched, riveted, as he tipped the cup to his lips, the rising steam soft and curly around his face. He himself was expressionless following a small sip, the face focused with narrowed eyes in his effort to sort out all the flavors.

I waited, my heart practically thudding outside my ribcage as he neared the end. Agonizingly silent seconds ticked past, each dragging into eternity as I waited to see if there was any sign of approval or disdain.

Finally, he set the cup back onto its saucer, and his fingers made only light contact with the porcelain when he handed me a warning look. "This is good," he announced, "Thank you."

I felt completely relaxed at that moment for the first time since his arrival. "You're welcome," I replied.

Just as the bell rang, I frowned because of the disturbance at the door. The air had changed slightly, a sure sign that another had entered.

"Sorry," I whispered and lamely smiled before getting up from sitting down— a futile attempt to swallow the discomfort that lived inside me. Though he had nodded in understanding, I still felt the heaviness of his eyes pinned on me.

I had made it behind the counter, trying to distance myself from this newcomer. "{Y/n}!" a voice called out, too familiar, as I found myself forcefully pushing down the rising annoyance.

"Hello," I said, my voice strained as I tried to pretend that everything he did didn't bother me in the least.

Ayame flirted shamelessly, leaning much too casually against the counter, his eyes all aglow with this dreamy look. He was yet another of my regular customers—well, apart from the fact that he didn't come in for flowers half the time.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he replied, his voice smeared with lust, I feel neausious.

"You saw me yesterday," I said, pushing the words at him a little hard because I knew he was going to insist on another round of his insufferable advances, and I was running short on patience.

"Did I really?" he mused, words trailing off into thought with the severity of a self-absorbed hum - grating on my nerves.

"Yes, you did," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, instinctively stepping back as my eyes were careful to not be too close.

I gasped sharply and was surprised when his hand closed around mine, his grip firm and surprisingly pulling me close to him. My pounding heart raced wild in my chest, but the sudden contact left me speechless.

I nibbled at my bottom lip, torn between pushing him away and not really knowing how to react. Ayame had never been this touchy-feely with me before.

Coming toward us, came the blond one, whose name I forgot, his huge shadow shading the scene.

Ayame's grip on my hand faltered. He let go of me with a sudden bashful apology and laughter that erupted from his face. In exactly the same manner he quickly retreated from that place, rubbing the back of his head nervously, atrocity from his part since he was intimidated by the blonde guy.

I felt relief. He gave me a look that pierced me, unreadable, leaving him in an intimidating air. It was as if he saw through me..

As Ayame ducked out the door, I swallowed a lump in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited, just waited, for whatever would come next.

"Thank you," I muttered in conclusion.

He whirled away to leave, his figure swallowed up by the sweep of his cloak, and a pang shot through me—a regret that I would never know his name.

"Tea was good, it helped a lot," he said.

"You're welcome," I called after him, even though I couldn't shake the feeling my words were lost in the rush of the wind when the door swung shut behind him.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc.Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bleach m.list

lmk if you want to be apart of the tag list <3

#⋆·˚ ༘ * The Balance - Series #tw: dark content #tw: yandere themes #cw: dark content #cw: yandere themes #jugram x reader #jugram haschwalth x reader #haschwalth x reader #jugram x you #jugram x y/n #bleach x reader

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themareverine · 27 days ago

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Who We Are | dofp!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

summary: "What am I, Logan?" Swallowing, "What is this?" And she knows what she is, subliminally.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of PTSD, trauma, mutant!fem!OC

a/n: i should be working on Toy Soldiers and my next series chapter. i really should be. but this came to me this week while at my new job, in my new office, and honestly i'm due for my period so i'm deep into feelings. enjoy this if that's possible. based on concepts i have for my Mare & the Wolverine series, e.g., fem!OC acquires Logan's genetics through Weapon X experimentation. i envisioned DOFP Logan for this but have no idea how it would fit into the timeline.

“Got someone here to see ya, dearie.”

Eyes don’t flick up from the tablet resting face up on the desk, screen illuminated bright with open email and Outlook scheduling only slightly overtaken with Microsoft Teams messaging. A milkwhite pen lazily spins through fingers riddled with turquoise and sterling. Untouched, stale coffee takes up precious desk space in a slightly dented, fading Yeti.

When movement from the doorway doesn’t come, sapphire eyes lift from the wash of blue light. Gaze flicking to the calendar illuminated on the desktop, the office chair rolls lazily away from the desk, toes slipping back into formerly abandoned high heels.

“I don’t have anything scheduled,” elbow finding the chair’s arm, her fingers knead into the flesh along her temple, “you sure they’re here for me?”

“Says he wants to talk to you about some volunteer opportunities,” sleek, silver hair spins around the older woman’s finger, glasses low on her nose only a moment as she lifts a knuckle to lift them, “you want me to chase him off?”

Can’t really argue with work opportunities. “Send him in. Call me in fifteen minutes with an emergency.” Tapping her wristwatch, her brow pops, colleague sent away with a uh, huh sure nod following.

Head canting to the side, she pops from her chair. Stretches her neck. Toes curl inside her heels, against worn once-padded soles eaten away under sweat and miles. Pain ricochets off the heaviness of her skeleton, sending hot licks of pain up her spine. Knocks off the base of her neck like a firecracker. Bones in the back of her hand burn, acidic pain stabbing between knuckles not unfamiliar. A glance down at the thin skin at the back of her hand stirs subconscious magma, stoning in a way she can’t quite swallow.

Sahara heat in the heat of her throat empties into the open air of her gut, and she rousts her tongue against her back molars. Hopes it’ll resolve—it doesn’t. Grabs for a drink of lukewarm coffee. Nada. Zilch.

Damn. “You decent, honey?”

A wry twist of her lips. “Sure,” she waves a hand forward. “Send ‘im in, Donna.”

Turning to retrieve that favorite milkwhite pen she’d discarded off to the side of her keyboard, she spins it through her fingers again. Checks emails, eyeballing the front desk associate from a grim, corner-eye peer.

Donna, bless her soul, nods. Leans back out the door, on her broken-ankle-waiting-to-happen heels that are as pink as they are dangerous for a lass her age. Waves the happy little accident forward with a flick of her near-translucent, arthritic fingers. Bangle bracelets tink as she shuffle dances with the stranger past the door.

Eyes turned down to the keyboard, she entirely misses the figure taking up her doorway. An onslaught of cologne hits her nose like a landing strip, an assault that rips open the void of her memories like an untapped dam—her pupils blow wide. Alarm kicks her heart forward against the sledge of her ribs, she swears to God she can feel cardiac tissue bruise. Animalistic fear swipes at her stomach, tearing it open like it’s ribbons of rare prime rib. Acidic contents of her stomach splash up on her tongue, but instinct makes her swallow it back down the hatch, burying the primal instinct to run.

Couldn’t miss that slick, sensual heat barraging into the room like a battering ram for anything. There was only one man in her world she’d known to smoke contraband cigars of such a sickeningly smoky, thick caliber—one man that could leave her so disarmed, distempered. In shambles.

Logan.

Her sapphire eyes flick over to icy, venomous in all of a heartbeat—she can feel them. Tracking him not unlike a predator cornering prey, she pops tall. Chair rolls back all too hard, with purpose. Bounces off the wall.

Rolled away, her tether to anything pumping daylight between them suddenly vamoose.

Fear licks at her spine like it’s a frickin’ lollipop. It isn’t terrorized fear—it’s that special kind of fear, the one that burns. The one that haunts and visits young. Simmers low. Eats away like corrosion—the fear of not what he’s done to her, anatomically. Never. Logan is many things, but not abusive. Not mentioning—these adamantium bones, these that build out her frame, rattle cold even mere inches from the sun? His curse, wrapped up inside her?

She barely remembered fear anymore.

This instead, it’s— a tender fear of what’s been dangled, shattered. Devastated. Buried six feet so far under it’s been feasted on by worms and twisting, cold fingers of the underworld. More pain, more emotional damage. More visceral, brutish damage than what’s already been done.

Knowing he can feel her heartbeat even across the floor space, she wills her heart to slow down—the small corner of it she can control when he’s anywhere in territory. Strange way over her, he has—had always. From the first day meeting him, signing her name on the proverbial dotted line of the pinkslip that is knowing Logan, he’d enraptured her. Captivated her. Took hostage parts of her she didn’t know were up for discussion. Knowing her inside and out wasn’t enough, even if it’s a literal statement—he’d seen her in ways that could make him a priest, counted her sins splayed across the altar of time.

Devil’s advocate, always. He’d promised to never do the very things he’d deny to God.

And it's cardinal sin, the way he looks at her. Mortal how he ravages her without even batting an eye, expressionless and unreadable like dark midnight. Venial—she can feel him even with five feet of daylight and lifetimes between them. All the times he’d touched her, all the sweet everything’s he’s whispered, lapping back through her brainspace like pace cars. Standing in her doorway like an untouchable Goliath. As radiant as the sun always, but dark as the witching hour.

Her skin chills, long nights under stars when they were both younger, stupider not far away memories but recent ones held close. Gooseflesh flecks across her skin, filling pores and chasing up and down her spine like territorial wolves. A knife somewhere in her gut spins a full three-sixty, any second now her entire gut sack would fall open, bloody, to hell between her feet. She couldn't move, though—eyes welded to him like stainless. If she's still enough, maybe she can watch his pores open and close.

Eternities unfold between them, when in reality, maybe thirty seconds has ticked off the clock hanging on the wall of her shiny, new office. Well, new-to-her office. It's hardly such, complete with tattered carpets and holes knocked in the walls from the rough and tumble of shifting furniture. Paint no younger than it's very 2006 aesthetic, there's the smallest hint of antiseptic in the air, a slight draft from the window's ancient weatherproofing. By normal straits, it's barely anything to be proud of—but it's hers. All hers, and nobody had helped her get it.

Not Charles, not Hank. Not references from the DOD, no apology kiss-assing from the military for what had happened with Cornelius at Alkali. Nada from fancy institutions that the X team had arranged for "one of their own." Her office for her job offered based on her qualifications. Her. No mention of mutations, no favors, nothing.

Eight months of skiptracing far and hard from Westchester, desperate for something, anything that wasn't that. Logan. Pain.

She could be surprised that Logan's found her. But, that would be revealing a whole lot of cards she'd not prepared to show.

Have to pay the ante if you wanna play, Logan.

"'All the places I thought'a lookin' for you, this sure as hell wasn't it, darlin'."

Darlin'. It's her favorite, always had been. He knew it. And if that doesn't hurt something delicious, nothing else in the sparkling universe that is this planet would.

Logan is nothing, if not prepared. Straight for the low blows. What a bastard. The little tip of his lips, the quicksilver gleam that flashes through his eyes. All little signs she knows are designed to chisel hard, deep through her bedrock. It's worked, before. Dozens of times that, really, are uncountable. He shifts a little, arms crossed over the leathers of a new-but-not jacket. Sunglasses slung through the collar of a not-new t-shirt. Jeans, scuffed boots. Even from here the bite of bike exhaust is unmissable, nips at her libido like it always had—because Logan has never been sexier than slung low on his chopper, sunglasses on and tufted hair messed from the wind. Free and careless, wild. As God intended.

And it could be funny—Logan, finding her here, two thousand miles from Westchester. On his motorcycle. Looking dangerous and delicious, traversing the country on some hunch about a wild hair up his ass.

Some things, honestly, don't evolve.

Naked and vulnerable as his eyes cut through her like cold adamantium, she swallows the desert blossom her tongue has become. Thigh knocking into the corner of her desk hard enough for a bruise to chance formation on ever-healing skin, she gnaws at the inside of her cheek. Handfuls of seconds fall through her fingers, until she cuts her eyes away, to the heels of her stilettos.

"No," her eyes snap back to him, brow furrowed in barely sentineled rage, "no, Logan. We're not doing this."

His brow pops, animatedly. Like a curious dog. "No?" Pushing off his stance against the wall, his booted foot connects with the floor a little harder than his usual. "What aren't we doin'?"

Any tighter and she'd taste the marrow of her jawbone. "You heard me. I've decided we aren't doing this—now, or ever. Get the hell out of my office, out of my life, and get back on your motorcycle and go back to New York." Finger cutting through the air, her glare is serpentine.

Cold, lacerating. Hopefully to his core, to the very steel that clings to his skeletal system like plague.

"Run back to Jean, Logan—we both know that's where you think you belong." And God, even her name tastes like wicked poison. Like some type of adder, it's pocketed in low places—released only when the fangs pop.

Could serpents suicide from their own venom?

Wouldn't matter, not with him running through my genetics like wildfire. Never say die, has a whole new meaning, huh, Logan? Turning away from him, she gags on her own hatred. The cold splashing up the back of her throat.

He crosses to her in three, big strides. Grabs her arm and whirls her around all-soldier, aggressively. His eyes are hot, wild, as they scan hers—looking for caveats, avenues to invade. White-hot, his grip tightens deliberately, knowing it can't hurt. Won't. Keeping her upright on three-inch stilettos is not his primary goal, but it's working overtime hours.

"Listen."

Her eyes cut to his, cold. Hopes it empties him of any and all courage he thinks he's got.

"I've listened enough." A growl, low between her ribs.

From the wellspring of years—years. Scouting in and out of the affections of a man she'd idolized since a night in that musty Canadian bar, lingering in the sweat and smoke, illegal betting. Still, she can recall how he'd folded her into her Jeep, introducing himself. Willing her to leave, allowing her to stay.

"'Wolverine.' Catchy stage name, hon. That what God calls you, too?"

"Logan, but, you call me what you want, bub."

She'd never stopped calling him anything. Never had dreamed she'd ever stop. If it were up to her, she'd carve out her own heart and give it to him, beating and bloody, for all of time. What's up to her is limited, however—wildcards in a game of chance.

Every dreamer eventually rejoins the living.

If it hurts him, she'll never know. His brow wrinkles, pulled downward into a hard frown that narrows his eyes and casts deep lines across his features. Canyons. Darkness flints through the light in the eyes, for only a moment, before he slightly shakes his head. Confused or irritated, well—it's Logan. Either is more than possible on any given day.

Pulling against his hold, she swipes at his hand. "Let go of me."

He winces, nails catching against hard muscle. His growl hitches in his chest, knocks against his back teeth not unlike a cat. "Quit. Don't be a brat," he hisses, nails biting into her skin. "Just think for a minute, huh? I come all this way, look all over the fuckin' country for you, and you think I'm hung up on Jean?"

Listening would allow him privileges Logan didn't deserve, but she can't not hear him. Instead, she wrenches her arm. Claws at his arm again, this time with more nail than probably necessary. An animalistic, vicious growl gurgles up from her chest. Snakes past her teeth. Hisses between them, venomous and cruel.

It's designed to cut him. Fatally. "You manipulative sonuvabitch—"

"Baby. Listen t'me—"

And before she can think, before she can reason—Snikt!

Out come the claws. Her claws. His mutation, wrapped up in her genetics. Pure accident, until it wasn't—until so much of him required so much of her. It's unfair.

White-hot pain rips through her like five thousand volts, jumpstarting her heart like a grenade. For a heartbeat she fears her cardiac muscle will explode, but it's misguided—regeneration means she'd just grow a new one. Another he could destroy all over again, and again, and again.

"I said let go, Logan!"

A wide arch of her hand between them catches the air, moving it enough that Logan ducks back with the practiced ease of a light-footed soldier. Hand breaking away, she stumbles back on wobbling heels like a foal. Away from him, creating space. Daylight. Air she tries to drag into her lung tissue.

Unable to breathe, to think, she drowns on room air instead.

Droplets of blood from knuckle lacerations land at her feet, hot pain alive and stinging like flame between her knuckles. He may as well have driven a hot blade between the bones in her hand, burning heat cutting up her arm like it's a fat bass awaiting fillet.

And she can feel the bone and tissues moving in her arm, how her ligaments stretch as adamantium blades rearrange her insides, push aside her bones and ligaments and tendons. Making room for itself, throwing aside anatomical musts for what she is. It's otherworldly, feeling components of yourself move and shake when for the entirety of your life, it comes as naturally as breathing.

Eyes flick down her arm, expecting to see her anatomy ripped open to the air. Anticipating something, anything to show that everything hurts. There's nothing, to the naked eye. Simple flesh. Nothing.

It's all in your head. Was it?

Her guts churn like a roiling pot, stirring deep and hot. She can taste her own blood, spit. Vomit somewhere, milked from her oral tissue. A zing of coppery blood on her tongue makes her think she's bitten the muscle. A clench of her abdominal muscle, and she's certain she'll throw up.

Before she can, Logan is to her in three big, heavy strides. Hard fingers latch onto her wrist, pulling her to a hard stop. Not looking away from the stains of blood on adamantium for a heartbeat, his eyes flick over to hers. Hold them, tightly, like a vice. His brow mottles with effort, deep lines as he struggles to hold her arm steady.

Panting heavily, sweat bubbles up from every one of her pores—she can't suck enough air into her chest.

She can feel color exit her body. Pulse bounding, her muscles begin to spasm. Psychologically unable to process the level of hurt racing through her arms, the room spins. Vision blurs behind a fresh veil of tears, nails bite into her palm. If her knuckles were any whiter, bone would kiss air.

The urge to vomit overwhelms. Wrenching her arm from him, she breaks away to empty her guts into the trash under her desk. Adamantium catches the endge of her desk, and makes short work, cutting deep grooves into the oak. Knees buckle. Ankles wobble in her stilettos like a newborn foal. The lick of humiliation is like a whip, a cruel taskmaster.

Names cut through her brain with surgical precision, whispers of memories matching with whatever idea of faces her subconsious can muster. Cornelius. Stryker. Alkali.

Filmreels. They pass through the back her brain, black and white. Color. Muted but screaming loudly through her nervous system like a white noise—

Cold, sterile antiseptic that she can taste bubbling around her like hellish brew. Chemicals that lap at the moisture from her eyes. An army of needles and drivers pump poison deep between her bones, filling her marrow with nanoparticles designed to protect, but harm instead, laughing at her agony. They march through her like they have orders—and in a sense, they do, to become a part of her. Divide and conquer, controlling interest.

Pain is relentless, unforgiving. Hollow like an abyss, ever echoing without give. Prejudice and without conviction, it chips away. Viscerally. Starving for her soul. Lusting after her flesh.

"And to think you volunteered— for what? For the life of a man who doesn't even love you? Pitiful fool."

Foolish, indeed. There is so much pain.

Claws retract. Slipping back into her flesh, she can feel the muscle contortion in her arm, deep into her skeletal frame. Past her muscles, tissues, blood. No sooner do they vanish than her flesh stitches back together where they'd been born, a quiet squelch of skin sealing in on itself. Rips through her ears like a nuclear blast.

Suddenly it's all she can feel, taste. See and smell, her own blood.

Stomach looping in on itself, she grabs her arm with otherworldly, white-knuckle strength. Unable to realize that deep tremors have set into her anatomical frame, her fingers are little more than blurring, trembling little digits. Clutching her hand to her chest, the world may as well threaten to rip it from her and bludgeon her to death.

In a way, it already had.

The limb is stained with smeared, speckled blood. It'll take hours for the firmament of pain to fully dissipate in her body, for the power high to evaporate. Faintly she remembers the first time this had happened, though it feels like eternities ago. Hell and back, really. Sticky saliva bubbles through the seem of her lips as she bats away the recollections, trying to ground in the now. Heaves a breath—finally, able to breathe.

Eyelids heavy and vision dancing with black spots, she stares at the floor. Pebbles of blood and foamy, thick spit lay at her feet like lovers, in concentrated worship.

And all at once she feels like throwing up again, struggles with the urge. The sensation drops, ringing against hollow air in her gut. Tremors bite at her nerves, muscles. Continue to rip her apart, stitching her back together as she lifts her head, which may as well have taken the strength of an industrial crane. If it hadn't, she'd never know the difference.

Disheveled, stringy hair clings to the sweat on her face, gaze narrowly tracking Logan. He'd seen everything. All her ugliness, all of what she is. Again.

"Get out," it grates, claws at the membrane of her throat. Acidic bile mingles with her back teeth, her molars grind together from the ratcheted weight of her jaw. "Leave me here, Logan," but all the same, unsaid words skip in and out of everything she doesn't mean, everything she says anyway. Between lines and in margins.

Don't leave me, Lo. See me. Help me.

"Please."

Stay.

Wishing her sniffle wasn't the snot-rolling gurgle it is, her head drops. Lolls to the side. She slips from her knees, aching with pain, to her side. Hiccupping ungracefully as she draws the hand clutching her arm against the apex of her heart, beneath her breast, mostly unable to feel it. Halfway to check if she's still got one, mostly to withdraw. Like a caged creature.

Because that's what she is, these days—a beast.

Sapphire eyes flutter closed. Parted lips suck oxygen rich air into her lungs. Flames in her core begin to extinguish, the ball of energy in her chest settling into a familiar ache that gallops against bone.

Starting to fall into the cool darkness—welcomes the thought of oblivion.

Two hands on either shoulder shake her firmly, once. Heat smacks her in the face, overpowers the air around her senses with that smoky, thick scent of exhaust and cigars. Immediately she knows, her anatomy reacts in ways that should be wrong—her ovaries leapfrog. The cradle of her womb burns. Fingers sting with fire, her heart racehorsing behind ribs that seem to flare with heavy deep breath.

"Stay awake for me, darlin'," thick thumbs knead into the tension that needles deep in her shoulders, milking away tension. Eyes flutter open.

Logan.

"You're okay. Stand for me?"

Buzzing with the highs of adrenaline, her head lolls a little as she shakes it, Logan brushing aside the veil of hair sticking to her face with empathetic fingers. She shakes her head, no. Can't feel her legs, can't think about anything but the weightlessness that calls to her from the pull of unconscious bliss.

If she were able to die, now would be perfect. Just an idea, God, it would be funny if it weren't honest.

But then she's airborne, weightlessness achieved as Logan hauls her up into his arms as if she weighs nothing, which isn't truth. Head falling against his chest, her grip on her arm tightens to bruising. Glancing at her fingers, she realizes tremors haven't fully subsided—Logan adjusts her weight but doesn't protest as she sinks against him, teary again.

Moving to her chair, he kicks it around to face him with his foot. Angles his head gently to rest his cheek along the top of her head, a rare and raw show of affectionate. Something akin to a hum rumbles around his breastbone, she feels it—can't place if it's a soothing hmm or a shhh at her sniveling, doesn't care. Not right now.

He sets her up in the chair, probably with more care than Logan's ever shown.

Calloused fingers brush hair behind her ear, catching across her skin softly. Vision leveling, she lifts her head from the back of the chair. Eyes cast over to him, and it feels like it takes a thousand years. She may as well weigh the volume of the sun; everything feels slow and heavy.

"Thought you were leaving," she manages, the thick gravel in her voice all but bleeding and raw. "Need'ta be alone."

Popping a squat in front of the chair, he steadies it with a firm hand. The other brushes fingertips along the apple of her cheek.

"You think a 'lotta things, honey—and the last thing you need is to be by yourself." Right now, you need me.

It's there, in between every word and shift of his eyes finding hers. Trust me, I know. I know this pain, I carry it close. As close as you, always as close as you.

And he does.

Silence cuts between them like wolves, eating away at daylight and heartbeats. Charged energy snaps like a live wire. Attention falling from his face, her eyes float across his chest, frame.

She didn't see blood, but that didn't mean there wasn't any, even scant traces.

"Did I hurt you?" Oh, God.

Impossible, scientifically—and a part of her knows that. But it doesn't stop her from asking. Habits die hard, despite how many times you crucify them. He shakes his head, slowly. No.

She swallows the thick saliva that's risen in her mouth, flushing out the sours of vomit and adrenaline. "I—I don't know what happened—" more tears, hot and fast, surface. It hurts.

Everything hurts. Parts of her she didn't even realize burned. Deep aches, a thousand needles ravage her body like demons. Someone had taken apart her insides and thrown them back together in a hot ball of wax, anatomy rushing to correct the uncorrectable. Affliction sharpens its teeth with her spine, it's all but jelly. Unable to keep her upright.

"It hurts, Logan," Quiet, defeated. Broken, mouselike. "I'm sorry."

Logan's hand moves to the back of her neck, dips her forward until his forehead brushes hers. Allows her to rest against him, sharing breath. His other hand moves to cradle her face between strong hands. Hands that have killed, hands that understand.

More fresh tears. This time, they fall down his face. One of his hands, she doesn't know which, takes hers. Draws it from her chest. Pulls it to his mouth, shaking fingers. His lips brush against sore, burning knuckles. In a way, this is a Logan she doesn't know—has reasoned, perhaps envisioned. But never known.

"Don't be, pretty thing," his smile is soft, slow. Careful. "Don't gotta be sorry for what you are," he stands, slowly. Offers her his hand. Interlacing their fingers, bends to remove her stilettos. Nudges them aside with the toe of his boot, gently tugs her to her feet. He signals her up with a flick of his fingers.

Obedient, he fortresses her against his chest. Thick arms hold back the world, tired fingers curling against the leathers of his jacket. Breathing him in, for a heartbeat she forgets why. Why she's angry, why they're here—why any of this matters. What any of it even means.

She doesn't forget what he's said, Logan gently swaying her side to side on her feet.

"What am I, Logan?" Swallowing, "What is this?" Lifting a hand, she splays out her fingers.

And she knows what she is, subliminally. On paper, in eyes that aren't hers. Deep, her bones have identity of their own. From now until six feet under, she knows what she is. He's told her before. But to hear him say it, to hear it confirmed in the fading sun of tumult, well—it's identity of a different sort.

His chuckle is low, more of growl than anything. "This," he takes her hand in his again, fingers snug between her own, "this isn't who we are, sweetheart. Not exactly. It's just—it's just part of life." His hand releases, moving to tip her chin up. "And you, well—that ain't hard to figure."

Oh?

“You're mine."

And that's more identity than she figures she'll ever need.

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m00nchildwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Saying "Daddy" in the bedroom has always made my stomach sour in the worst way. Instantly sucked any and all spicy feels right out of my soul leaving me feeling dryer than the Sahara-

BUT

If this man asked, I'd say it in a heartbeat and mean it.

#love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #lads #lnds

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hwashotcheeto · 11 months ago

Text

𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

Kim Hongjoong X afab!gn!reader

Summary: You and Hongjoong hated each other. At least, that's what you told yourselves, until you ended up in the same bathroom at a party.

WC: 2.1k

Content: Smut, lots of smut, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst

Smut warnings: Dirty talk, kissing, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PIV sex (this is fairly vanilla)

AN: This is in reference to this post, so those of you who were interested, here you go. ;>

And this was originally written for @malldreamprincess but she gave me permission to edit it and post it. 💜

Tag List (Remember: Please send it through the ask box to be added to any tag lists!): @cherrycel @mxnsxngie

“You’re just a fucking bitch,” you spat, exasperated. Hongjoong laughed as he looked at you through the mirror, still more focused on fixing his stupid lipstick.

“Come on, even I say that. Do better, babydoll.” He puckered his lips and made a pop noise, finally satisfied with his application. He capped the tube and spun around to look at you, leaning back on the basin of the sink. His multitudes of rings clinked against the porcelain, and it was enough to make you want to rip your hair out of your skull.

You clenched your hands into fists as he stared at you. He tilted his head. A taunt.

You really had nothing except elementary level insults. “You’re not even pretty,” “you’re mean.” What could you say that someone hadn’t said already, that he didn’t already know, that Hongjoong wouldn’t have a smart, sexy retort to spit back at you with his bright red painted lips?

“Your ex just fucked you because of your ass” is what came out. You didn’t even think about it, but all of a sudden, the words tumbled out and there they were.

And to your surprise, the color drained from Hongjoong’s face. His smile dropped instantly and his eyes went wide. You felt pride that you’d finally stunned him, and then you were terrified half a second later by his sudden dead eyes that stared through you as you knew he was thinking about how to kill you.

“I dare you to say that again,” he said slowly, his eyes still wide, but devoid of any and all emotion except for one: Rage. Unbridled, fiery rage.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest like a panicked bird, smacking against the sides of your rib cage. For a moment, you really considered staying quiet.

“Your ex-”

He threw you up against the wall and pinned your hands above your head. Your head hit the tiles of the bathroom wall and your vision swam for a second.

When you could see again, all you were met with were Hongjoong’s eyes, staring into your very soul. Your lungs instantly shrunk and your stomach was in your throat. Your mouth was drier than sand in the Sahara.

“You have no fucking right to say anything like that,” Hongjoong spat, pressing you against the wall harder. His body wasn’t touching yours, but fuck, it was so close, you could feel the heat coming off of him.

“And what if I’m right?” You breathed. It was such a cheap line, and you knew there was a high chance he’d slap you for it.

But he didn’t. And deep in his eyes, you saw it. Hestience. Uncertainty.

Insecurity.

I’m right, you thought, but you didn’t dare utter the words.

Hongjoong finally collected himself and blinked. The insecurity disappeared, and the rage was starting to dissipate too.

“Why did you say that?” He asked, still holding your hands above your head.

And it was as if you both had a realization moment: What the fuck were you two doing?

What were you doing here? In this bathroom, at this house party, arguing about a whole bunch of nothing, when you both could’ve ignored each other? It would've been so easy to ignore each other, to ignore Hongjoong, and stay with your friends and talk about everything and anything.

You two didn’t like each other. You wanted nothing to do with each other.

You hated each other.

Right?

“Because I hate you,” you breathed.

And Hongjoong called your bluff.

“No you don’t,” he whispered, and smashed his lips against yours.

And it was a fiery kiss, of passion, rage, hidden and complex feelings neither of you wanted to confront. All tongue and teeth and spit.

Hongjoong moved all over your body, groping at everything, your ass, hips, waist, tits, all of it, moaning into the kisses as he did. You gasped as he kissed down your neck feverishly.

“Feels so good, Hongjoong,” you slurred, clinging onto him.

“Yeah?” Hongjoong asked, running one of his hands down between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your pants. “Keep telling me that.”

And you did, letting out all the whiny, desperate moans trapped inside you that Hongjoong forced out. Fire and desire raced through your body, from your head to your feet, your skin was screaming his name.

Hongjoong groaned seeing your face, your eyes rolled back, feeling your slick all over his fingers, dripping out of you, it was so much. Everything he ever wanted.

He leaned in and kissed you again, with the same intensity as before, pushing his tongue inside and fighting with yours, twisting and dancing, moving all over your mouth.

As he pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips, you looked at him with half closed, dazed eyes as you mumbled: “Fuck me.”

“Oh, I'll fuck you.”

Hongjoong helped you get your pants and underwear off before making you hold your own leg up to spread you wide for him.

“Is this good?” You asked as you looked up at him through your lashes. Hongjoong smirked as he ran his fingers over your slit, gathering up some of your arousal.

“Yeah, good doll,” he ground out as he pushed two fingers inside you. You’d hardly adjusted to the feeling of being stretched out before he was fucking you hard and fast.

“Fuck, Hongjoong!” You cried out, clenching down on his fingers, rolling your eyes back into your head.

“That’s it, keep saying my name, gorgeous.” Hongjoong’s forehead was leaned against yours, his nose pressed against yours, his lips a breath away, feeling his heavy breaths on your lips.

You obeyed, whining and whimpering out his name while his fingers were slamming into you, pounding against your spot, fucking you wide open. Hongjoong smashed his lips on yours again, the kissy messy, his free hand in your hair, holding you in place so you couldn’t pull away.

Not that you ever wanted to.

“So perfect,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Feels so fucking good, all of it.”

His words went straight to your cunt and you clenched down again, feeling your orgasm creeping up.

“Hongjoong, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered out.

She immediately pulled back, making you squeal and whine in disappointment. But you rolled your eyes back as he dropped to his knees and pushed back inside you again.

“Come on my face, baby,” he whispered before he dove in, sucking on your clit and fucking up into you. And how could you deny him when he was fucking you like that?

It didn’t take long before your thighs were shaking and your head was going light. One of your hands dropped down to grip onto Hongjoong’s hair, holding him as close as you could. She moaned and smothered his face in, putting his free hand on the small of your back to keep you close.

With one final suck on your clit, you came with a scream of his name, pulling on his hair, trying your hardest to not let your legs buckle underneath you.

Hongjoong moaned as he drank up everything that spilled out of you, fucking you through it, then licking at your still pulsing hole. His eyes were rolled back as he happily took it all.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he breathed as he pulled away, leaning back on the floor on his hands. And fuck, he looked irresistible.

The low lighting of the bathroom barely illuminated the shine of your slick on his face and neck, his hair was a mess, his pupils blown out with that little Cheshire smirk on his lips.

You dropped to your knees and crawled over, pinning him on his back and kissing him again, and she let you do it. He let you pin him to the floor and kiss him, and have your way with him.

Your hands went down and struggled with his pants, and he thankfully helped you get them down to give you access to his rock hard cock. You smiled into the kisses as you started stroking him, pulling a gasp out of him.

“Aww, you’re so hard,” you cooed, sitting up on top of him. Hongjoong’s eyes rolled back as he bit his lip, stifling the noises that were beginning to bubble up in his throat. “I thought you hated me, Hongjoong.” You lined his cock up with your cunt and teased the head, making him buck his hips up and groan.

“Shut up and fuck me,” he breathed, his nails digging into your hips. You almost wanted to make him beg for everything he ever did to you, but you stopped yourself, and slowly sunk down onto him.

His mouth dropped open as he gasped, squeezing you tighter, trying to keep his noises quiet. But even as you were struggling to stay composed, you weren’t about to let him stay quiet,oh no.

Thanks to him fucking you open already, you could set a fast pace from the beginning. Hongjoong let out a choked moan and closed his eyes. He bit down on his lip as a whine slipped out, his eyebrows going together. You were so tight on him, so warm, it was almost burning. His head was already going light from the pleasure in his veins.

“Come on, Hongjoong, don’t be quiet,” you breathed, putting your hands on his chest, leaning close to his face. “I wanna hear how good it feels.” And at first, nothing changed, and you expected him to stay quiet. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t change. So you dropped down on his lap harder than before.

And after that, all the noises were tumbling from his lips. Whines and whimpers, little broken gasps, all of it.

“So good,” he whimpered out, his head tilted back against the floor.

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help but smirk, even when your stomach was churning and twisting, and your thighs were quivering in pleasure.

“Yeah, don’t stop, baby, please.”

And you weren’t about to.

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him as you continued. Your eyes trailed down to his exposed neck, and got an idea.

You leaned in and bit down, making him yelp in pain, but you began to suck and lick over it, soothing the pain and making a mark where everyone would see it.

That he was yours now and no one was going to take him from you.

His thighs began to tremble and his back arched. “I’m close, please don’t stop,” he gasped, his hands going up to grab onto your shoulders, holding you tight against his body.

You were close too, and it was making it difficult to keep the pace up. But hearing all Hongjoong’s desperate cries and moans gave you the motivation to keep going.

He could see how you were close, and how you were focusing on him and not yourself. So he took one shaking hand and rubbed your clit to help you along.

And it was almost instantly that you came all over him, screaming his name, bouncing on him frantically to ride it out. He came when you did, fucking up into you, crying out your name as he dug his nails into your skin.

“You marked me,” he panted once it was over. You smirked as you crawled up to him and looked at it. A dark mark, right in the middle of his neck, where everyone would see it.

You looked at him, and he was smiling too. “Good.”

“Good?” You asked, slowly pulling up off of him.

“Yeah.” He pulled his pants back up and got up off the floor, helping you as well. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but I have to now.”

You looked at him confused as you began to clean yourself up. He helped you before you got redressed, and he helped you fix your outfit before he continued.

“I never really hated you. I only ‘hated’ you because I wanted you. But when I did, I was dating my ex. I didn’t know what to do, and it came out at that. I’m sorry.”

And all the animosity you ever felt towards Hongjoong disappeared, and you threw your arms around him in a tight hug. He froze, not really believing you were hugging him. It took a few seconds before he hugged you back, squeezing you so tightly.

“You’d really have me?”

“Yes. Now I know it wasn’t genuine. I’d love to have you.”

Hongjoong smiled and held you even closer. It wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go at all, but it ended better than he could’ve hoped.

No matter what happened now, you'd be with him. Everything would be okay because you were with him.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong fic #hongjoong ff #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut

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astroboots · 2 years ago

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looooooved your steven somno/cockwarming story! it did leave me wishing i could be inside stevens head though.... if u ever wanted to write a little drabble from his perspective about what he was up to while the reader was asleep i certainly would not be opposed...

I Need Some Sleep 2.0

Summary: Mini Drabble companion to I need some sleep from Steven's POV. You've fallen asleep with Steven deep inside you and the poor man tries to hold onto his failing sanity (cockwarming galore).

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable and our--

Our-- journey tha-- shit.

The book lands with a thud against the mattress. Steven's eyes squeezes shut as he tries to steady his own breathing. His heart rabbiting away with a punishing pace below his ribs somewhere.

He has to finish. The sooner he finishes... He grits his teeth and picks up the book again. Steven blinks up on the page. The words are blending together. Where was he? What did he read. God, he can't remember-- He's going to have to stop from the top of the page again isn't he...

The acrid heat-- The acri--- fuuuuuuuuuck.

Steven groans, a deep and pained groan torn from the depth of his soul and needy chest as he feels you shift against him, clamped tight and warm and achingly slick around his painfully hard cock.

This is bloody torture.

The heat of you wrapped all around him, and he feels like every nerve in him is strumming with a high-pitched scream, screeching in his blood. Oh fuuuck.

You're squeezing around him again. So blissfully tight he thinks he's going to lose his mind from it.

He wants to move. No, fuck, not want... needs to.

His arm comes to his forehead as he drapes it across his eyes, blocking out the light of the room and all his vision, so that he can just... breathe, for a second. He just -- he needs to focus... finish... fuck that's what you said wasn't it? He just needs to finish and then-- then--- shit, what did you say again?

Why is he doing this again? What is he doing?

His eyes dart to the book in his hand, and the distant memory of it vaguely flashes across the remaining operating brain cell fighting to hold on, between his temples.

'Finish the work' the memory of your voice reminds him, ringing sweet and taunting between his ears. 'You’ve promised Marc and I’m not going to move an inch until you finish.'

Right... Marc... He'd promised Marc.

Marc, who had been adamant that he finished reading this tome of a book tonight, even as you had gotten increasingly cranky for Steven to join you in bed.

Marc who had nagged him from the mirror all bloody evening about finding the location hidden somewhere in the accounts of Hargrave...

Marc who -- the moment you went to sleep, with his cock buried deep inside, dangling as a reward and punishment all wrapped into one blissfully aching and torturous parcel -- conveniently disappeared into smoke. That nagging grump of a man fled the scene, the moment you sank on his cock and left Steven to his own woeful devices.

Rotten traitor. Right arse. Marc's the one who got him in this damned mess in the first place.

You hum in your sleep, soft and sweet. Then you shift again, squeezing and clamping down and ---

shitshitshitshit. This is torture. Oxygen flees from his lungs in a rush. His toes curl into the sheets, and his hips stutters into you, but you're squeezing too hard around him. He can't get deeper, can't work himself into you like this and -- God.

Steven's gonna die. Or cry. Or black out. God this isn't fair.

His grip on the edges of the book tightens, and he can feel the blood leaving his knuckles, until he's gripping so hard he can feel the bones in his fingers pressing up against the leather of the cover.

The acrid heat, he recites to himself. That's where he left off... he just needs to finish. He just needs to finish this goddamn book. Just a few more pages, and then --- then...

The slick silken heat of you tightens around his cock, the blinding pressure searing through his spine--- oh god... it's so good, you're so tight.

Sinking his teeth hard against his bottom lip, the blunt pain sharpens his mind long enough that he swears he can taste blood. He could roll you over right now. Have you on your back as he pushes you into the mattress with his body. Wrap your legs around him, thrust into you, you're so wet already. Dripping down the length of him and he can feel it leak down his cock to his stomach.

It wouldn't take much, he's nearly there. Can feel his climax looming like a threat along the tip of his tongue promising him rhapsody if he'd only take it. Maybe he doesn't even need to do that, he could grind himself into you to completion from where he's lying, it'd be so good. You'd feel so good.

But you'd told him to finish this first... Told him you wouldn't move until he's done.

Fuckfuck, he clamps his eyes tightly shut, biting down the sob punching through his throat. Pushing back the tears that are pushing behind his eyelids. His hands at his sides tightens into a fist.

He can wait. He can do as he's told. That's what you wanted...

He can do this... Just... a few more pages, he's a fast reader... Yeah... he can-- he can do this.

Nodding to no one in particular but himself, Steven opens his eyes again, and brings the book up to his face.

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable....

Author's note: gaaaah thank you for this sweetie nonny, I'm so so sorry I've held onto for it as long as I did as I did intend to write a sequel but life has just been a runaway train from me lately.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications for when I post something new!

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marvel #marvel mcu #oscar isaac #steven grant x you #steven grant #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #💌 asks

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