#also im not writing smut sorry :)

[mysicklove]

boys who love overstimulation live in my head rent-free. because who can really like something like that? it hurts so badly, and it makes their mind go terrifyingly blank, so why do they not use their safeword? why do they let you torture them so?

closing their eyes and letting out the most broken and pathetic sobs with every second to pass by. they cant do anything, just have to sit there and take it while their tip throbs and tears flood their eyes. sobbing out, "too much! its-stop it! im sensitive!!" while you kiss their cheek and force their thighs open.

the boys who like the way they feel powerless under you. they cant fight back against the overstimulation, their mercy belongs to you completely. there mind goes blank during this time, only focused on your movements and the pain. in the back of their heads they can hear the lewd squelching noise of the cum dripping down their shafts mixed with your cruel movements. the way their body jerks when you reach the head repeatedly and their wrists tighten against the sheets to bare the pain.

but the whole time they are looking at you with most lovesick eyes. some smiling at you while tears running down their face, while others plead for you to give them a break. either way, the next time you touch them, they are begging you for more after they orgasmed.

izuku, kyojuro, denki, keigo, reo, armin, douma, eren, tengen, bachira, isagi, zenitsu

[morphids]

false pretenses, hange zoë

so im absolutely obsessed with this thank you for putting this idea in my head😰😵‍💫wish i could tag u anon </3

original request here [X]

pairing: college au - engineering student!hange x student!female reader - they/them pronouns for hange, afab anatomy for both

summary: the best way to get what you want is to do it yourself right?

warnings: listen this is real slutty ok, explicit sexual content 18+ minors dni - loser lesbian!hange (hange has that autistic nerd rizz), its always the quiet ones, r thinks she’s slick af, poc friendly- no physical descriptions of reader, kinda-bratty/switch!reader (r gets v subby) top-leaning!Hange (im a top i swear), strap, dirty talk, nicknames, munch activities, fingering, finger sucking, cunnilingus, praise, brief asphyxiation, i cant think of anymore

wc: 4.9k (not proofread)

an: excuse the shitty engineering attempts im not a stem girl!! hope y’all enjoy <3

—

You watched Hange from across the library, gazing over their features as they frowned. Brow creased as they solved equations that your professor had so kindly left everyone to complete after your seminar. Sometimes you’d catch their teeth nip at their bottom lip, in pensive thought.

Hange wasn't around many people, not that you saw anyway, usually kept to themselves or with the same two friends you'd seen them with. Their head often deep into a book or back hunching over a desk working some form of assignment, headphones placed over their hair.

Looking over their face, you studied Hange's strong jaw, the way their slender hand held up the weight of their head as the other scribbled down notes into their notebook. The sluttiest black tank top layered underneath an unbuttoned white dress shirt, draping over baggy brown straight-leg pants. Hair up with so many layers resting against their cheeks, framing their lovely face as multiple strands plumed out from within the hair tie. Their amber eyes lay under small, thin, glasses atop their nose. God, that nose. Perfect to sit on. Perfect to ride to holy heaven.

If it wasn’t clear, you'd had a bit of an eye on Hange for the last semester, they had transferred from a different university a while back. Upon seeing them for the first time, you wanted to speak to them. Their slightly introverted nature had made you keep your distance, though, but it was getting harder to fight the urge to go talk to them. I mean, how weird would that be? Hi, I know you don't know me but I've been obsessed with you since you transferred here? Yeah right.

No, you had to be more creative than that.

You needed a valid reason to speak to Hange so that you didn’t come across as the world’s biggest creep. Luckily for you, Hange was by far the smartest person on campus. Grades always incredibly well above average, scoring top marks in every assignment they’d submitted. So much so, that the professor had pretty much already taken them in under his wing. Due to their helpful nature and extensive knowledge in a fair range of fields, your professor was preparing Hange to be his TA after graduation. Oftentimes, passing Hange over to tutor students in his classes that lacked the grades that were expected of them at this stage in the course.

And even more luckily for you, you seemed to be really struggling with the new module. Or at least that’s what your alibi was. Who needed to know that your grades had actually been consistent passes? You were pretty strong at your theory, but you had only slightly slacked off in your classes during your professors teachings of mathematical methods and linear equations. It couldn’t hurt to get a bit of extra assistance to fill in the missing gaps.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you walked up to Hange, they barely noticed a presence beside, music blaring through the headphones, until your shoes came into their peripheral vision, spotting the black boots right beside the chair.

Their gaze followed up your bare legs, eyes slightly widened as they realised you were indeed about to induce a conversation with them and not just wandering past to get to an actual destination. They removed one cup of their headphones off their ear, holding it up with their fingers so they could listen to you. You noticed the multiple bands resting above their knuckles, bulky metallic rings varied with different patterns and weldings.

“Oh, um— hi?” Hange spoke, slightly confused, they had been deeply distracted into their equations, not anticipating someone coming to speak to them. Definitely not you, of all people.

“Hey, um— sorry to ruin your flow, but I was wondering if you could,” hesitance struck you, feeling your carefully planned script fall apart under Hange’s gaze, eyes still wide and nodding their head as a prompt for you to finish, removing the headphones fully to rest the band on the back of their neck. Why are they so hot, you thought, fumbling over yourself. “If you could tutor me with this module, you’re the smartest person in this place according to Mr. Fritz,” You joked, softening your words with a meek giggle. An attempt to make not make it seem like a big deal even though you could feel your heartbeat thump in your ears and throat.

“You can totally say no, of course,” you quickly added, after realising you didn’t actually offer them an out, not wanting to pressure Hange into having more on their plate than there already was.

Hange’s eyebrows pulled together, lips split as a wash of suspicious perplexity strained their features, only for a second before returning to normal. Back to their friendly warmth with an amiable smile stretched on their lips.

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Their eyes held yours, you to let out a faint breath of relief. “I’ve got a few things to do on campus for a while, but, I can meet you after?”

“That’d be great, thank you!” You offered to exchange phone numbers for ‘easier communication’ to plan around Hange’s schedule, before duly proposing that they come over to your dorm, as the library closed after five o’clock, and your roommates were gone for a week-long field trip.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on the way, then,” They smiled, an amused smirk etching itself on their lips before they could help it.

“That’s perfect, I appreciate it,” You beamed, “I’ll, um, leave you to your equations,” You stepped away, turning around to make your exit from the library. Hange didn’t miss the way your eyes fell onto their lips for just, perhaps, a little bit too long than was deemed socially conventional, or the way you seemed to grow flustered as they stimmed with their fingers. Hange’s gaze followed you as you walked on, trailing down to your exposed legs underneath a short skirt that hung over thick, sinuous thighs. Hange looked back down at their notebook, as they chuckled, shaking their head with endearment at your crafty deceit.

Hange certainly isn’t stupid, due to their proximity working with the professor, they were painfully aware of the more… problematic students in Mr. Fritz’ class. You were never one of them. In fact, he had even used some of your past assignments as example guidelines for the newer students. Needing help with the easiest part of the module? No way were they believing that.

—

A knock at your door, and you smoothened the fabric of your clothes, hoping to reduce any lingering creases or maybe even just to calm your nerves. You had tidied up, making your bedroom look more presentable and less like a cove of disordered chaos.

Opening the door, there stood Hange, handsome and ravishing in all their tall glory. A hand reached up to stabilise the one strap of their backpack that hung on their shoulder, the other strap dangling behind. You tried to stop, you really did, but you trailed over their figure, lured into their nonchalant stance that just exuded casual confidence as they looked back at you, an eyebrow cocked up.

Breaking contact, you welcomed them in, Hange dropped their backpack onto the floor to relieve the weight of all the heavy textbooks from their shoulders. Hand raising back up to remove the headphones from their neck, placing them atop their bag, hooked on the top handle.

You sat at your couch, leaving enough space for Hange to comfortably place themselves on. Trying to be discreet, you watched as they took off their dress shirt, hanging it on the arm of the couch, you presumed Hange was using the layer against the slightly cooler breeze outside— you couldn’t lie, you were kinda glad to see it off. Hange’s bicep was well sculpted against their black tank top as it melted into toned forearms. Tanned and strong. There was a brown cord bracelet dangling from their wrist as they rested it on their propped up knee. God, I’m no better than a man, you thought.

“So, what’d you need help with?” Hange pushed up their glasses with their ringed index finger, you wondered if that was something they often did subconsciously before beginning a task.

“Linear algebra and probability theory,”

“Hmm,” Hange nodded, a short tug at the corner of their lips, leaning their elbows on the top of their thighs, “Yeah, that stuff is pretty hard, but,”

“What did you score on the last exam?” Hange turned their head your way, amber eyes meeting yours, with a devious look.

You froze, shit. It felt like a trick question, surely Hange didn’t know the score you totalled? Surely, Hange didn’t know that you were just seven marks from a full score? It almost felt as if they were luring you into a trap; to see if you’d double down with the lie and continue with this facade or if you’d crack and admit defeat. Lose-lose either way, you’d end up embarrassed or having to make yourself look incredibly foolish.

Voice breaking in your throat, you held eye contact. Whereas Hange’s was steady and sharp, yours felt like you were just exposing yourself further the longer you remained silent.

“I-I don’t remember,” A neutral answer, you decided, totally not because you had been rendered nonverbal, clearing your throat and seeing the way Hange’s lips stretched fully into a knowing smirk.

“Hmm, you don’t remember,” They were definitely mocking you now, voice low, humming and melodic as you felt the thunder in your chest beat. You looked down at your thighs, fingers fiddling with a loose hem on your skirt.

“Getting the impression I wasn’t invited over for some homework,” They chuckled, leaning back against the support of the couch, arm stretching over the top.

One sentence and it was out in the open, the illusion you thought was so deceiving completely shattered as your true intentions came to light. Yup, embarrassing, just as you thought.

“So, why don’t you tell me the actual reason you invited me over,” If the last sentence was a stab to your confidence, this one was an extra twist in the wound. Hange was smirking at you, the mirthful look in their eyes showing you that they were relishing in your embarrassment and flustered face.

You swallowed a deep breath, feeling your skin ignite both with anticipation and nerves so lethal you almost wanted to bury yourself underneath the seat, never to be seen again.

“I, uh—“ you mumbled, the script had truly crumbled, you had no plan B apart from just spewing out the truth. You’d die before you had to do that.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Hange hummed, leaning on the back of the couch, as their thighs came to spread, “Why’s that, hm?”

The unlevelled confidence that radiated from them just seemed to further your own unease. It wasn’t often you felt that way, usually being the one to initiate flirtations with others. Yet, everything about Hange just seemed to drag you into a state of bashfulness, totally out of character as you failed to make eye contact.

“Will you look at me, love?”

You ceded, eyes meeting, as you let out a sigh. Hange placed a testing hand upon your bare knee, tentative runs of their thumb over the skin. Soft, Hange thought. The feeling eliciting shivers down your spine, warm waves down to your core, reducing you to a state of feeling unreasonably touch-starved. Hange gazed down your thighs, deliciously covered by the fabric of your skirt, moistening the edge of their upper lip with the tip of their tongue, before flickering their eyes back to you.

“What is it you really want?”

Fuck. A short gasp escaped your throat as their hand trailed up, fingers reaching underneath the hem of the short skirt. Hange was toying with you, no doubt about it.

“I… I wanted to speak to you,”

Humming, their hand moved further, “Why?”

“I found you…” you paused when their fingertips skimmed over your panties, your thighs twitched. “C-captivating, needed a reason to speak to you,”

Hange chuckled, as they leaned forward to reach the bottom of your ear, your breath hitching as their lips ghosted over the skin.

“You could’ve just asked, pretty,” Hange’s voice whispered against your ear, as you closed your eyes. You were so down bad.

“Think I haven’t noticed you, huh?” One light kiss at your skin, “Think I haven’t seen the way you stare at me?” Another kiss, ever so gentle that you almost melted into them, biting back a needy groan. Hange’s hand squeezed at your thigh, fingers towards your centre, just barely grazing over the fabric.

“I mean—god, darling, if you wanted me to fuck you that badly all you needed to do was ask nicely,” Hange’s teeth nipped at your lobe, drawing out the skin with it.

“So, ask me nicely,”

Another squeeze at your inner thigh, and no longer could you withhold the groan that you’d been holding back. You were fighting so many demons right now, hesitant to verbalise your inner desires. Hange remained near your ear, licking at the soft skin. Fuck it.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Your voice came out so much whinier than you expected, used to hearing that tone from others, but never from yourself.

“Aren’t you gonna say please?” They chuckled, dragging it out, teasing. Hange eyed the pout at your lips, the slight frown in your brows—could tell you were used to getting what you wanted easily, to not submitting. They planned to fix that.

“Fucks sake—please, Hange,” You pressed your thighs together, trapping Hange’s hand as they gripped you, as a prompt for them to do something, anything.

“Better.”

With their other hand, the one not currently trapped in between your legs, Hange grabbed at your hip. Kneading over your hip bone, where the dainty zip of your skirt dangled. The sensation caused your thighs to loosen autonomously, as Hange opportunely released their hand an inch. Slipping underneath the hem of your damp panties, fingers teasing at your slit, collecting your slick.

“You this messy just for me?” Their sinful, warm words made you shiver, goosebumps down your arms as they hit your ear. You wriggled, skirt rolled up to your hips, exposing your panties. Messy, indeed. You were growing impatient as you attempted to roll your hips into their hand, craving contact. Hange’s fingers recoiled, pushing from your slit pulling the fabric with as they tutted. Tightening their other hand on your hip once more, stilling your movements.

“C’mon, surely you’ve figured out how this works by now,” Hange’s words sounded so sweet, if it wasn’t for the absolute torture lurking underneath. Eager to tease and play with you for as long as it would take for you to actually listen and cede. With a brattish groan and a sigh, you nodded.

“Words, darling, use them.”

“Y-yes, shit—all for you, Hange.” Voice breathy, avidly impatient. Your core leaked more slick when it clenched, totally ruining your panties as it clung to your folds. The sight absolutely delectable. “I need you so bad—can’t take it,”

There it was. Finally.

“Was that so hard?” Hange hummed, a satisfied smirk creeping over their lips as they teased a finger down your slit, only slightly breaking through your entrance. Pressing your lips against theirs as you whimpered into the kiss, biting at Hange’s plump bottom lip.

“Now then, be a good girl and stay put.”

Hange pressed their finger fully into you, soon adding another two once they saw how keenly you were taking them already, walls wet and ready. Your head fell into Hange’s neck, meek moans spilling from your mouth as their slender fingers hit the back of your squishy walls.

Without removing themselves from your warm heat, Hange cased a hand at your ass, pulling you on top of their lap. Using their clothed thigh to rut their fingers up even further, other hand forcing your hips into gyration against them. The friction from their jeans hit against your sensitive clit and with their fingers inside you, you were a hot mess already. Needy and desperate from their heartless teasing.

“Ah—that’s…fucking good,” You hissed, as Hange lapped their tongue down your neck, before sucking, branding you with many dark marks leading down to your chest.

Catching the hem of your shirt, you threw your arms up to discard it, revealing your breasts to the room’s cool air, heaving up and down with heavy breaths. Hange almost moaned at the sight of you, shirtless with a short skirt pooled around your hips, draping over their knees. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, they thought. As Hange thrust their fingers into you, their mouth wrapped over your nipples, flicking over them with their tongue. Nipping lightly over the peaks. You arched your back into them, feeling yourself grow closer, the tension in your abdomen building as you bit your lip.

Your hips lost their rhythm, aimlessly chasing the feeling of Hange’s fingers deep within you. Languid gasps and breathless moans escaping your lips. So, so close to your peak until the sensation was suddenly stripped away, leaving you totally empty. Hange removing their fingers, you could hear your own slick cry as they did, your walls tensing.

“Wha-“ You were a bit dazed, a truthfully a little annoyed, you had been so close.

“You’ve not earned it yet,” Hange laughed, clearly relishing in your frustration. They liked this, liked making you destitute, left wanting. Hange had every intention of fixing that sugared insolence they could see within you. Had every intention of tearing it inside out.

Hange reached down to their leather belt, maintaining eye contact as they unclasped the metal peg, lifting you up off their knees slightly to pull their jeans down, before removing their tank top. Their chest rose up and down, bound beneath a black binder. You could see their own centre soaking through their underwear. You ogled their figure, groaning as your sinful thoughts worsened. The kind of imagination that would surely commit you to purgatory indefinitely.

Hange pecked your charming pout away, before bringing their soaked fingers up in front of your mouth. Spreading your lips open with their thumb, shoving it inside so you could taste your own slick on it. Their other fingers followed suit.

“Clean up your mess,”

Hange watched you, your lips bruised and plump as they split to allow entrance for their index and middle finger. Sucking your juices off them as you moaned, gagging as they hit the back of your throat. Brows pinched and eyes brimmed with tears from the hot burn. Hange’s thumb pressed against your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open, a line of drool slipping out from the corner of your open mouth. Hange would kill just about anyone for you, they thought. Irreversibly addicted to you, your needy eyes and the way you fell to follow their orders.

“So beautiful,”

Hange hung over you. Looking into your glassy eyes, with the hold against your jaw, pinky finger at your chin, they held your mouth open, spitting on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You did. Quite happily as you groaned, muffled as your mouth was stuffed. Feeling yourself grind against Hange’s bare thigh, your core clenching around nothing as you yearned for the feeling of their fingers back inside you. Your inner thighs completely soaked, spreading it all over Hange’s bare legs.

“Such a good girl—so obedient for me,” They hummed, relieving their attack on your mouth, taking their fingers out and grasping the back of your neck, “Wonder if anyone else has ever slut you out like this, hm?”

You shut your eyes, leaning into their touch as you whined out a passive ‘No’, shaking your head to Hange’s question, not fully trusting the strength of your own voice. Fuck, you were totally gone, lost in salacity and paralysed by your own thirst. Almost brain-dead as your desire thumped in your ears, and throbbed at your core. About to explode from your own ardour as it’d eagerly been building up. Hange was divinely addictive, a substance you should never have risked trying. You could never possibly go back now, too ruined to ever possibly go to anyone else. Totally and utterly hooked on Hange.

“Aw, look how docile you are now, pretty.”

Hange kissed at your neck, coming back up to meet your lips again as you mewled against them.

“H-Hange— please, need more,” You squirmed against their lap, “Can’t take it, need to cum so badly,” You were finally begging, hesitation leaving you to fend for yourself as Hange had you right where they wanted.

“Yeah? How do you want it, baby?”

In between strained breaths, you pointed to your drawers. Strategically placed next to the couch, as Hange reached over. Chuckling once they saw your strap in its resting place.

“This what you want?”

Nodding, you rutted against Hange’s thigh, forcing some friction to rub against your clit.

“Please, fuck,” You sobbed, visions of Hange stuffing you with your strap forcing you to squeeze your thighs against Hange’s lap.

“Since you asked so nicely,”

Hange gently nudged you off their lap, to allow them to slide the harness over their thighs. You sat beside them, legs folded underneath yourself. Hand placed delicately on the side of their head, pressing sweet kisses down the skin of their neck as they adjusted the harness to fit around the circumference of their thighs. Hange shivered under your lips, eyes shutting as they indulged in the sensation for a moment, cursing as you began to lick under their lobe. You were delightful.

Hange’s hand danced along your thigh, fingers streaming past your slit as they groaned at how unbelievably wet you were.

“You’re fucking sublime,” They groaned, dragging you over their lap, hands ripping both the skirt and your ruined panties off your legs. Hange laid their back on the couch, folding your bare thighs over their jaw. You bit your lip in keen anticipation, it was almost as if you had manifested this.

“Fuck—Hange, I’ve dreamt about this for so fucking long,” Your legs twitched above Hange’s face, as a radiant smirk shone on their lips.

“Yeah? Thought about this?” Their hands clung around the plush skin of your ass, fingers squeezing tightly. They pulled you on to a steady stream along their face, teased a lick up your folds before your slit was pressed down against their flat tongue, lapping up your slick as their nose rubbed over your clit.

“F-fuck, so much—was just like this,” You gasped as you rode Hange’s face, watching dumbly as their face contorted with gluttonous solace. Eyebrows creasing as they focused on eating you out. You crumbled, finally feeling some release after being teased for what felt like many unbearable hours. Truly, it was better than you could have imagined, Hange’s fly-aways catching on their cheeks and the sides of their face as they grew dampened, your slick slapping their cheeks and fogging up their glasses from splatters and wet heat.

Resting your hand on their knees for stability, your fingers acted on their own as you came to reach underneath the strap that was dangled in the air, waiting to be used. Your fingers came to meet Hange’s folds, sliding easily past their sensitive labia, nearly as wet as your own, aching. Having been unbearably turned on since they saw your body’s visceral responses to them.

“That’s—so fucking hot, shit,” You whimpered, lost in the feeling of Hange’s insistent tongue slowly flicking deep against you and the way their centre seemed to just suck your fingers right in. Hange let out a muffled, guttural grunt into you, the vibrations making you clamp your thighs tight against their head. You almost felt apologetic, if it wasn’t for Hange, who seemed to get riled up by the very prospect of being choked out by your luscious thighs. Oxygen supply decreasing as amber eyes rolled into the back of their head, toned arms pulling you closer against them. Leaving behind marks on your skin that outlined where their fingers had been digging in.

Whilst simultaneously, you were plunging your fingers knuckles deep into their entrance. Your body leaning back as you bucked your wrist against them, fingers curling inwards against their walls. Hange’s eyes were stuck on you, watching as your body rocked against their mouth. Head hung back and breasts perked up as beads of sweat trickled down, illuminating your skin, the fine hairs around your stomach standing upright. Looking properly, they spotted a few moles scattered on your stomach, your lips were swollen as they bit out mutters of curses under your breath. Still trying to return the favour even despite feeling ruined. How divine.

The sight alone brought Hange to their knees, hazy pleasure erupting through them as they felt their body tremble. Truthfully, Hange seldom let people touch them, opting to typically give rather than receive, yet they felt like giving you permission to do whatever you wished with their body. They were so hypersensitive, extra responsive under your ambrosial touch. Debauched gasps melted into your core, still lapping at your slick as they rode through their own peak. Shuddering, as they seized their thighs against your wrist.

“Did you cu-“ Your excited, breathy voice was cut off by Hange grabbing your wrist, ripping your fingers out of themselves from overstimulation, their centre tensing with arousal dripping down their folds. Hange nodded as an affirmative, you could tell they were slightly stunned. Hange held your wrist against your back, elbow folding over as they lifted themselves up. Disconnecting your slit from their mouth, and moving you around as you returned to facing each other, your legs resting over their lap once more.

Hange’s spare hand caressed your jaw, uniting your lips together as they melded over yours. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, slipping their tongue into your mouth. You whined as they angled the tip of the strap over your folds, your slick lubricating the plastic. Hange was frenzied, desperately needing to see you stuffed with the silicone length. Elated from their own high, their words grew more depraved.

“Need to fuck this pussy,” They rasped, voice at the lowest frequency you’d heard from them, “Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,”

Your lips parted as Hange slipped the tip inside, stretching your walls out as you gripped onto their shoulders. Hissing as you adjusted to Hange burying themselves into your tender flesh. Sinking yourself down on the strap as your hips undulated against them, pressure building up again within your abdomen as Hange fucked the strap deep into you. Tip massaging over your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that same spot that made your breath catch in your throat and your vision go white.

“Fuc—keep going, pleas—please,” Mewling, you shut your eyes, eyebrows furrowing as your nails came to scratch at Hange’s back. Your words coming out in broken sobs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you were split apart on your own strap.

“So full—Hange—“

Hange sucked against your neck, then licking over the sore spots.

“Taking me so well,” Hange praised, voice sweetly laden with saccharine honey, “Sat so pretty on my cock,”

“ngh—Shit-I-I’m gonna come,” You were shaking, thighs trembling and abdomen twitching. Finally about to release after being so cruelly edged twice. The expression on your way was picture-worthy, fucked out and wanton.

“That’s it,” Hange kept rutting up into you, muttering praises, “Come all over me, baby,” A nibble at your earlobe and you were done for. Your climax reached you, tensing up your spine, mouth agape as you shuddered, face contorted.

“You look so pretty when you come,”

Your core tightened as you spilled out your release; the force pushing the strap out from inside you, squirting all over Hange’s lap. The hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

Hange didn’t relent just yet, making sure to fuck you through your peak so you could ride every second of it. When you finally stilled, your head fell onto Hange’s neck, murmuring softly against their clavicle. Sighing, you lifted your head up, greeting Hange’s half-lidded eyes with your own. A beat and Hange reconnected your lips together, gently kissing you as you came down. Mind still fuzzy and reeling. Their hands caressed your hips, thumbs running down your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Hange whispered, pressing a tender peck down against your swollen lips, “Wish you would’ve talked to me earlier,”

You laughed, breathy and uneven, as bashfulness struck again. Once the cloud of lust had settled, you were left with nerves, that doe look back in your eyes as you weren’t quite sure what to do now. What if Hange never wants to see you again? After all of this, you don’t think you could handle being emotionally ghosted. It was unlike you entirely, but the interest in Hange remained, simmering as you relished in their tight hold— a hold that almost promised you it wasn’t going to leave. You dared to dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hange muttered, resting their forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Um…” You hummed, hesitant, “This, I guess, I’m a little… nervous,”

“I guess I am, too,” They chuckled, pressing their head closer, hands still setting your skin aflame, “But, i-if you’d like to, I wanna take you out,” Pausing, “On a real date, that is, not under false tutoring pretences,”

You pulled your head back, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to stretch, an attempt at masking the hopeful beam in your eyes.

“I’d love that.”

—

listen u guys 😭 someone pls sedate me or give me a lobotomy cos what am i meant to do when i PINE over 2d characters

let me know if u guys enjoyed <3 i love to read ur comments and inputs

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put��the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed. 

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale. 

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate. 

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed. 

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips. 

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow. 

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?” 

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold. 

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–” 

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.” 

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out. 

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her. 

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.” 

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue.  That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder. 

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold. 

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

[hungharrington]

hmmm do you guys ever think about… how much steve would love it if you ever scratched up his back during sex <3 he. loves. it. so. bad.

honestly he treats it like he does hickies, he lurvssss getting to show off— gets all hot under the collar at the mere thought that if anyone else can see them they’ll know he’s taken, that he’s got a lover and he treat them right. it’s this perfect sweet spot between stroking his pride and catering to his possessiveness :)

the first time you notice you’ve done it (because let’s be real, you don’t notice in the moment, you’re far more focused on the perfect grind of his hips into you, fast and filthy, so good it has you clawing at his back) but the day after, when he tugs his shirt off, you spot the scratches and you’re instantly spouting apologies.

your hands flit over his back, worried that you’ve hurt him and he’s like, “no no no! it’s— i’m fine and- uh, how do i say this? please, um, always do that.” he can’t even pretend to hide how much he loves it and that makes you feel better, makes you glow hot inside.

eddie notices one time when you’re all over at the harrington house, using the pool to cool off. right as steve tugs his shirt off over his head, eddie catches sight of the red scratches where your nails have raked down the tan expanse of his back and whistles loudly, “damn, harrington, you share a bed with a wild animal lately?” like he doesn’t know damn well where those marks came from.

his quick glance at you confirms it and you can’t help but feel a little bashful but steve’s already scoffing, a little smug and a lil pink in the cheeks from how proud he is and he jerks a thumb over his shoulder and is like, “actually, it means i got a good grade in sex :)”

[sematarygirls]

tate in the rubber suit + some thigh riding 😛😛😛

꒰ anything for you, love of my life 🙏 ꒱ 𝅄

  ／ tate's grip on your waist was rough, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you to rub yourself on his latex-clad thigh. "that's it, baby," he encouraged, his skin hot and sweaty underneath the black fabric that clung to his skin.

the material was slick with your arousal as you clutched his shoulders, dragging your bare cunt against his leg. "you look so pretty like that," he practically panted as you writhed against him.

his hands slid down from your hips to your ass, digging his fingers into the fatty flesh as he helped you move. "fuck, i love watching you get yourself off on me like this," he groaned, his own arousal evident in the way his cock strained against the confines of the rubber.

you were a mess of needy whines and moans as you desperately rocked against his thigh, the slippery material alone not providing enough friction to satisfy you.

"shh, it's okay baby. let me help you," tate cooed, almost hypnotically. one of his hands slid around to your front, delving between your legs to rub tight circles on your puffy clit while the other continued kneading your ass. "i've got you."

you moaned, your head falling back in pleasure as he finally touched you where you so desperately needed him. your nails dug into his skin as you bucked your hips into his hand.

"that's it, just like that," he encouraged, his fingers slick with your arousal as they worked your sensitive flesh. "you're doing so good, baby. don't stop."

"'m so close," you panted, feeling your pleasure building deep within you as he drew you closer and closer to the edge.

"come on, baby. let go for me," he urged, his touch firm and insistent as he guided you to the brink. "show me how good i make you feel."

you moaned his name as you came, your inner walls clenching and unclenching around nothing. tate continued to rub your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you were left trembling in his lap, your cum glistening on his rubber-clad thigh.

satisfied with his handiwork, the hand gripping your ass slid up your back, cupping the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss. "So fucking pretty," he murmured against your lips, his other hand tracing shapes on your thigh.

[themotherofhorses]

NO! Because what if I said mean!superior!Simon Riley x new recruit!fem!reader ??

An equally dark and obsessed!Simon Riley, who became stupidly OBSESSED with one of the newest recruits currently housed on base. You're young and naive and (in his eyes) need an older man to corrupt the living shit out of the dumb little innocence clinging to every action of yours. So much smaller and softer than him — with the prettiest bright eyes and the sweetest, dimpled smile.

Such a stark difference in character between the two; perhaps that is the main reason why he wants you so badly.

Ghost knows everything about you — from your instagram account to your childhood street address and that adorable build-a-bear plushie that you somehow managed to slip into your duffle bag (right now, it sits quite snugly between your two pillows, but sooner than later, it’ll wind up in *his* bed).

As time passes, he only becomes meaner — a terrible combination of aggressive and antagonistic and frightening. A literal bully. But he cannot help it. It’s a shitty excuse, he knows it, but there is something so fuckin' delicious about catching an eyeful of your pretty face crumpling at every insult he spits out.

The way your head needs to tilt upwards to meet his heavy glare, causing your pink, plump lips to twist into a pout. If he was forced to define it, he’d claim it’s practically an aphrodisiac for him.

Ah, you won't ever survive in my world, he tells himself.

Anyone can see it. You ought to remain back in his home flat — safe and sound with his chubby-cheeked baby bouncing on your hips, waiting for your husband to return home from combat.

So imagine a dark, obsessive, and mean!superior!Ghost overhearing that you were almost murdered by enemy fire during a recent recon mission. A stray slug gazed your upper thigh, and a second came a little too close to your pretty, empty head.

And sure, Ghost is beyond pissed about it, but he's driven more upset over the fact that no one told him; instead, he had to learn through word-of-mouth by some rookies seated within the mess hall.

(Behind him, Soap and Gaz couldn't really understand why their lieutenant reacted so strongly. After all, he hates you …. right?)

What the hell? You almost died. DIED! Not only that, but you were almost stolen away from him. Did you not fuckin' understand that? Death came so fuckin' close to robbing his precious girl from him.

In the meantime — as he awaits your return to base — Ghost sits atop his bed, casually planning out what'll happen next.

There is an empty room in his flat — straight down the hall from the master bedroom, perfect space for the nursery. In fact, it has a nice, single-hung window that he can add drapes to (if you fancy looking outside while tending to the baby).

The bed is, of course, ready for you, and beneath the bathroom sink are those scented body washes you adore. Thank bloody fuck Bath & Bodyworks allows online shopping and shipping.

[fallenseaofstars]

Argenti headcanons

🌹 Tags: Afab g/n reader, Smut/Fluff, established relationship, obsessive Argenti once again 😍, size difference kink, belly bulge, creampie, idk what else to tag 💔

🌹 A/N: sorry I tried making him as accurate to canon but he's a bit of a freak in my eyes (not in the kinky way but in the questionable way)

Argenti is a gentleman, he loves to be sensual and treat you like royalty, so naturally the aftercare is top notch! No matter how tired he is (unlikely that he's tired to begin with) he'll always make sure to clean you well, get the bed ready and pepper you with many many kisses <3 He will never leave until you're fully taken care of

Raging size difference kink. He can't quite pinpoint why exactly he's so into it but all he knows is that he can't help himself when he sees just how much smaller you are to him- believe me he has had to learn a new level of self control around you...

He's really big and absolutely loves seeing you take all him, has accidentally overstimulated you before but can you blame him? The way your pussy takes all of his cock and how his cum drips down you ... one round is not enough to please him.

Belly bulge is almost a guarantee everytime he fucks you and yes, it makes him very hard seeing how deep he fucks you

Pleasure dom but can also be sub. He absolutely loves spoiling you no matter how greedy you get, but he also enjoys being spoiled! He won't outwardly admit this however so make sure every once in a while you take good care of him, he deserves it~ ❤️

Worships you like a god(dess) regardless if he's top or bottom, it's almost embarrassing hearing his over the top compliments but he means every word! He loves spending a while just kissing your entire body, his kisses are so soft and full of love, and they linger in the areas that you're most self conscious about! To him, everything about you is beautiful, no matter what you think of yourself!

Loves it when you take the lead, he'll do whatever you ask of him like an obedient little puppy~ just kiss him a few more times and he's already head over heels for you! (Not that he already isn't though) When you ride him and threat him like a whore he cums even faster than usual. He can't decide if he prefers when you're gentle and loving or when you're mean and harsh.

Big praise kink, even when you're mean to him you should still praise him~

Into bondage as well, loves it no matter who's the one tied up! When you're the one tied up he loves to blindfold you as well and whisper to you everything that he will/is doing to you. He's very comforting when you're blindfolded but you can feel his voice go deeper than usual which makes you all the more hot for him

Now when you tie him up...he becomes a complete mess. He whines and moans, his body shaking so much that you almost feel bad for not letting him touch you, but that's just part of the fun, no? Again, cums a lot faster in this state

He cums a lot- and quickly too. You're lucky he has so much stamina since he cums way before you even come close. After you're both done the bed/wherever you fucked is very very messy- makes him a bit embarrassed but also loves seeing it as a way of claiming you as his own~

Also has a breeding kink, even if you can't have kids hes simply just obsessed with the idea of filling you up and having so many kids with you~

CW: Dub-con and cnc (roleplay kidnapping)

Overall he's very loving, no matter how you want him to fuck you he'll do it and praise you so much while doing so! You're his beloved little rose and he absolutely loves everything about you! ❤️

Although you're his priority and he wants to make sure you enjoy every second of it, he's still quite...obsessive over you- which can lead to him forgetting that this is reality and will fuck the living light out of you to the point that it's just painful- at some point he'll make sure you're okay but he's quick to go back and fucking you dumb

He's a bit addicted to roleplaying as if he kidnapped you, tying you to his bed and just fucking your pretty face drives him insane <3 You spend a lot of time before hand making clear each other's boundaries, and even while roleplaying he can't help but ask if your ok and compliments you so much

[kit-williams]

Anrir Husbandry

Husbandry tags: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @the-raven-lady

@bispecsual

Edit: forgot to thank @justahuman1757 for help with some of the translations and other help

Song on repeat: Cradles by Sub Urban (also most of the remixes for this SLAP)

tw: smut, yandere, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Anrir cooed at the little human in his arms finishing up singing them back to sleep знішчыць.... знішчыць... His voice carried low and softly. It was naptime... they needed to sleep as it was good for them of course they didn't seem to realize that. His long back hair was tied back into a slightly messy bun as his nearly completely black eyes dart around the pastel colored room just looking for anything wrong. His Dragă wanted to work with children in childcare and perhaps it took a couple of years to get here since he had first found her.

She was so much happier since he had first found her... happy about their bond... no more worry in her eyes... no more stress making her hands tremble or her loosing sleep... no more worrying about her next meal or if her car were to break... no more crying... well no more senseless crying. He puts the child down looking around at the sleeping forms but he cant help but grin as this really was all possible because of him, Anrir purrs softly at the satisfaction of how well he has done his job... and how he has covered his trail...

5 years prior

Anrir was a drifter... he drifted around as he had yet to find his own bonded, which given how some legions seemed to be more inclined to get a bond; with Night Lords being one of the ones with very few "feral" Astartes it was only a matter of time before Anrir would find his. But Anrir in all definitions was a feral Astartes having been unbonded since he arrived forty years ago. However, it was fine as Anrir hadn't spent that time just moping about he spent a majority of his time politicking and reuniting with other Terran Night Lords long dead and of course reuniting with those who were under his knife when they were aspirants and scouts which he affectionately called them his kids.

He was also using this time to take a break, a forced break, from running his warband; not that he could run it right now anyway. But he would mull over plans for when he returned back to his time period... if he did was another thought. His eyes moved up to the sky as he could smell the water gathering in the air. Which meant that the group he was with would start a debate on if they were going to settle down or continue on despite the weather. He did not care too much and decided to wander off to look around at where they were.

He walked out of the tree covering that the group was skulking through as he looked at the abandoned parking lot he had walked out into. It was rotting away neglected and abandoned as the painted lines were faded and practically gone, the pavement was cracked with plants growing through cracks; with the asphalt under his feet turning to gravel as plants come to reclaim this section of human infrastructure. And Anrir... he savored this reclamation of nature and decay of it all. Compared to the prison pit he was born into on the other side of the globe; he had already made his pilgrimage to the eventual site of his birth... a town full of people whose existence was never known as a great chasm of the guilty was there.

But that dark pit in the ground was not there now... there were no babies being born in that dark hellhole... his neck tattoo had a phantom itch as he is reminded why it was put on his neck... as he is reminded that at some point he was truly innocent... he is reminded of the hand gently petting his head... the soft voice cooing at him telling him how brave he was being... as he remembers having tears in his eyes as the ink is shoved into his skin... he gently starts to suffocate the memories of a child long gone and a woman paradoxically long dead and yet had yet to be born. His eyes flick to the far side of the quiet parking lot as a car just sits in the dark. The only other thing in this lot, far from the flickering road light... he could hear the annoying buzz of the light as it flickered... the flick... flick... flick... as it finally goes out. He moves with soft steps towards the vehicle as the summer insects scream their sonorous songs it was almost overstimulating for some of his brothers with how alive this planet felt with no foe to focus down on. Anrir felt his gums itch like he craved an oral inhalant and the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as he wandered closer not giving into the craving.

Anrir had seen many homeless humans both back in his own time and here. His eyes looked through the windows of the car seeing how it was lived in, he could hear the soft breathing akin to how someone was asleep... the slow beat of a heart was barely audible to him as the insects continued to scream their songs. There was nothing special about what he saw as it was a baseline female just buried under an assortment of clothes, a towel, a jacket, and some blanket... a bucket with a strainer lid to collect the impending rain... he chuckled at the cleverness but he understood the need to just survive. He turned to walk back to the others but something rooted him in place. He could practically taste the misery mixing with the rain. His throat tightened as it silently moved in foreign ways but he knew what he was trying to do... to mimic the noises they make at humans.

He lets out a dark chuckle as they were right... it really was something that he would know when it happened. Worry soon festered in his gut as his eyes roamed over her vehicle and while he hardly knew about how it worked he could see the signs of disrepair. His nose wrinkled for a moment as he unclipped his helmet from his hip, slipping it over his head as the rain finally let loose. He listened to the rain slap against the metal roof of the car, the way she moved inside her comfortable cocoon for a moment, and the way water was gathering in the bucket... Anrir had to do something.

You did your best to ignore the Night Lord that was hanging around. Affectionate bastards you were told as you remember those videos of just them being friendly. You shiver at the memory of that one gang member who thought he was so big... being homeless you quickly learned how sleeping near warbands meant that you had to ignore certain things... certain sounds especially at night. Astartes always scared you... you couldn't point to any incident that had happened involving them just that you got bad feelings from them... a certain type of dread. So it wasn't exactly like a fear of dogs but the way they looked and acted they were so human... why were they here... you make yourself look smaller as the Night Lord with what looked like a metal spider on his back sat next to you.

You hear him coo and trill at you trying to get your attention, his head tilting slightly as you could hear the slightly distorted trill to his voice from his helmet, and you did your best to ignore him. Eventually he did leave you alone and you had hoped that would be the last you saw him. But, every day for the next week he kept finding you... he would click and coo at you beckoning you closer with those armored claws of his. It was the last day in the week that you broke and approached him as you chose to fill your car with gas over eating and he had shown up with food. You feel tears gather with each bite as he trills down at you and you feel him hold you close... you hear his purr... you've seen this display online it was a bonding display. You do your best to not choak on the hot food as you can feel tears gather in the corner of your eyes, really the last thing you want is an Astartes bonding to you.

You feel the Astartis petting your head as you eat, trilling at you and you're certain if he wasn't in armor he would be purring. When you look up at him miserably he coos at you trying to sooth the clear distress you were in. His hands flexing each time you try to pull away from him, "You don't want me to be your bonded buddy," You finally speak up and that just breaks something in you and you feel those heavy tears roll down your cheeks even as you try to use the heel of your palm to rub your eyes clean they still fall, "I can't give you anything." Your voice cracks as you admit that.

Anrir sat there silently as you tried to reject the bond… he could feel it fraying at the edges like a lighter had been taken to it. But Anrir was calm even as his entire existence seemed to reel on its axis as you try to push it away. Your voice cracking gave way to the tears that ran down your face, his black eyes darting over your face as baselines crying was familiar to him given what he was but it felt so different… so wrong. Why are you letting her cry Anrir? A soft voice in the back of his mind seems to say. He could feel it fray more and more… but Anrir was aware that when a bond frays… it never attaches back normally. There was also a small high for him as would this be how he tasted death? Not after millennia of being alive just some mortal woman would be the death of him? He would have laughed if it actually broke but he pulled her against him and you did not make the effort to pull away… and so the bond repairs wrong. He did not need anything from you except you. 

How you lean against him trying to hide away. So he was okay if you couldn’t give him anything now. He didn’t expect you to give him anything in the first place… but a wicked thought plants itself in his mind. Perhaps it was old fashioned… after all he watched the radical social changes in a mere 40 years and yet like always the Astartes remained unchanged. But… why couldn’t he provide for you? Anrir was a capable Astartes and he did not survive this long by chance but memories flicker by of how generous others were towards their humans. He grinned darkly as he could recognize the signs now… oh… he had intensely bonded to you… he had read the manuals and grimoires both in person and on the noosphere… he had helped write some of those too… so he knew what to look for in terms of side effects and was filing away mental notes about his deviances. And as much as he wanted to act on those feelings Anrir was patient, he was an Apothacarion after all, and his Dragă needed to be taken care of. He purrs and chirps at her to calm her down and gets her to finish her meal.

Thrones, credits, souls, cash… it was annoying dealing with baselines as most societies revolved around needing a good or currency for things and this was not their reality or time period where refusing an Astartes was suicidal. He noted his lack of desire to skin the man yelling at his Dragă to get him to stop “loitering”. But he, like most Astartes, relied on each other and the complex network and ecosystem they built like a parasite on the infrastructure of what was already there or was it the other way around? The Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists would say they laid out efficient infrastructure… but he found resources; since it was no longer allowed to simply take humans as serfs anymore and just have them live in a base full time… not that the Night Lords had one yet. It would be a few more years till the base was operational and that would be a mustering point for most Night Lords in the area. But Anrir noted how jumpy his precious Dragă got at the idea of getting help from Salamanders or staying in a shelter; he was fine with her choice. He wrinkled his nose as her car was falling apart and he couldn’t fit in it and him being a Night Lord did not help his goal of getting money. However, Anrir had a long reputation having worked in the Consortium with Bile too being a prominent figure in his legion’s hierarchy, no matter how much he tried to stay out of the politicking, so when the Alpharii approached him he wasn’t too surprised. 

There were treaties and edicts that any Astartes had to agree to if they wanted to stay near the humans. Besides the obvious of not killing any humans; which before Anrir was bonded was a surprisingly hard ask, but they were not allowed to mettle with them. Technology was to be kept away from them at all costs, no extending their life spans, no augmetics beyond simple necessary prosthetics, and a few others. It all made sense as it was clear they were not ready at all for the horrors of the wider galaxy… no they would not play a hand into accidentally smothering humanity in the cradle because they helped them reach the stars earlier than they were ready for. But just like how human killers existed… and Night Lord trafficker Hunts happened… there was always some bending and breaking of these rules.

The Alpharii couldn’t help mettle in the affairs of the baselines, it was their legion’s expertise, they were information brokers and information hiders… they modified records to hide the sudden birth of a child from a woman and a Astartes… to all the way of covering up when forbidden technology falls into the hands of baselines and there needs to be a raid. They had their fingers in many pies as the saying goes… and Anrir could not play the moral high ground for their request. They weren’t supposed to extend the baselines lives… there was the crude method of giving them a transfusion of Astartes blood and hope they survive all the way to getting the chemicals and components needed for rejuvenation treatments. The latter took time to get what they needed as they could only synthesis so much being limited to what was only on this one planet; and it was hard to keep the Iron Hands from getting eager in “helping” them be able to colonize the Sol system. 

But… Anrir looked down at the old corrupt man. Such greedy creatures humans could be and Anrir could never be like his kin who were able to see themselves as being above humanity… Anrir was far too aware of his own humanity and also his own lack of humanity too. “How do I know it will work?” The old man interrupts Anrir’s explanation of what he will be doing in transplanting his heart, “You could be some… con artist.” He says with malice in his frail voice.

Anrir never liked nobles… and he was always surprised at how… self important they could be. His smooth voice answers the question before one of the Alpharii can speak, “My reputation,” He had asked the Alpharii before this and he was not bonded to any of them… he was very much a pawn that the Alpharii weren’t ready to loose yet, “your… companions wouldn’t have gotten me if they doubted my skills. The heart is made for you so there is no chance of rejection.” He says truthfully as it was child's play growing the organ for him.

Anrir voxes one of the Alpharii, “As for my payment for this?” He hisses letting his displeasure bleed through as how dare he speak to Anrir in such a way.

“Everything is set up in ways that won’t tip off the government officials to the sudden influx of wealth. And conveniently set up so that if you choose to help us again…” 

Anrir waved his armored hand over his shoulder as his medical mechadendrites unfolded like a spider on his back, “Yes yes you lot have me for several surgeries,” He goes through the process of setting everything for fine movements and working on humans, “But please be aware should anything go wrong in the payments that I can be quite spiteful.” He threatens and enjoys the place of power he is able to come from given how specialists are in such short supplies here and he is certain there is only one other Consortium member on the planet… he knows his expertise is invaluable he is certain he is on many lists to be kept alive.

“Of course Anrir.” Is all one says and that was good enough as Anrir headed into the prepared room.

You were happy that Anrir returned as he did keep you safe and maybe you were feeling those good vibes that people always say they get around Astartes. But now? You looked at what was holding out to you with apprehension. You’re sure that it was a thousand dollars in his hand and you felt hesitant to take it from him as no one just gives people money and not expecting something back… your spine crawls at a memory… He just sighs looking at you passively and perhaps a little annoyed, “Dragă. Go get your car looked at and get it fixed.” He says and you take the money from him as your AC had died and you’re certain that also meant your heating was gone… “Unless,” Your eyes returned to his face as your eyes picked up the bit of white at the roots of his sideburns, “You want to get a bigger vehicle?”

“But I can’t-” You start.

“Don’t worry about money for a second Dragă.” He says putting his hands on your shoulders.

You squirm under his gaze as you considered rejecting it as Anrir gave you such feelings that there was something else he was after… then again you never felt truly comfortable around Astartes… always a lingering sense of dread but… “Maybe… maybe we get something you can fit in as well. Wouldn’t that be nice?” You say softly as you’re certain those cars are far beyond what you can afford and from what you heard basically never break down. 

You hold your breath for a moment as Anrir cups your face, you could hear him trill at you, as he grinned down at you with a smile that you’re certain the devil himself would envy, “What a thoughtful Dragă.” Was all he cooed at you.

After that, with much fussing from him, he made you use the money to stay in a motel for a week and you don’t remember when the last time you ate so much food. Anrir in the meanwhile took care of things. You were torn on letting him do such as wasn’t this the reason you had a fallout with your family? Your hands shake at the memories… he ruined your life. Yet while you’re certain Anrir is doing the same thing… it feels different. Anrir only suggested what you use the money for never using it to tell you what to do… Anrir confused you but you took comfort in the thought that he wanted something from you that he could get at your absolute lowest… everyone says bonds are precious things so maybe you should trust him more.

Anrir makes sure he always has enough money on him as he was making sure that there was a positive association in your mind that he was able to provide for you. The fuss you made when he got the car customized so that you could live out of it as long as you wanted, he hopped it wouldn’t be much longer, but it was your choice and all he could do was nudge his Dragă. The excitement he felt rush up his spine when he heard you say “Anrir” in a specific tone… a tone he associated with his Dragă needing something… Dragă needed him to provide. Sometimes you were like a skittish animal only staying for the exchange but sometimes you lingered like an animal and he could get what he wanted from you too. He felt that dopamine rush as you tolerated his touches, the joy he felt when you let him cup your face, how loudly he purred as you let him nuzzle you, petting your head, or rubbing your back. He could still see the hesitation in your eyes… he could tell you weren’t as (warp blind) (bond blind) as other humans were and Anrir is fine with that in fact it made this all the more enjoyable for him.

Winter always comes too soon and once again Anrir brings up places you can stay over the colder months and as hard as you try you still can’t get rid of the feelings that if you acquiesce he will want something. Anrir himself is disappointed that you wont ask him for much more; he does use winter to get something he does want. He finally gets to hold you for as long as he wants, usually your whole sleep cycle. He’s slept in far worse spots and just being a little cramped is hardly anywhere near the list of worst rests he has had. He purrs loudly as you’re glued to his side or his chest at night. Cooing to you as you drift off each night with a full belly in his arms. Its hard not to drift off with how he purrs and the rhythmic beating of his twin hearts… this feels like it’s going to be an easy winter for once so of course you get sick as a dog.

“Poor Dragă.” Anrir’s voice breaks you through your sick haze as the chills don’t help but Anrir being so warm helps. “I know you won’t like this suggestion but as a health specialist I do recommend that perhaps it is time for you to live inside more regularly again?” You can barely hear the quiet engine over the Heater going, Anrir not allowing you to fuss about anything right now once more saying he had it under control, “Arata mizerabil... (Miserable looking…)” He says in Nostroman letting his tongue click as you bury yourself closer to his chest, feeling those ports dig into your skin, “At least something temporary, yes?” He says sounding a little worried, “Wouldn’t that be nice? A temporary place to stay till you find what you want to do?”

“Daycare.” You croak out.

“Hmm?” Anrir looks down at you cocking his head to the side surprised you answered him. 

“I want to take care of kids. I like taking care of kids. Don’t know why… so I want to start a daycare.” You say but you soon get weepy, “But who is going to let me do that. Look at me! I’m living in my car running away from my family and I can’t -” You stop your distressed rant as you cough and your nose plugs up again making it hard for you to breath and you can’t help but squirm in Anrir’s grip.

“Shh Dragă, I’ll take care of  you.” Anrir says softly a uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice you weren’t expecting from a Night Lord, “You don’t need to worry anymore, Dragă.” Again it’s a soft and warmth to his voice you didn’t know he could have, “Do you trust me?” He asks in a tone you have trouble reading. 

Bonds are supposed to be good things… that’s what everyone says… you have a companion for life… and you can tell that they get so much out of what we give them as they were clearly made for something far more violent. But… did you trust Anrir. No… you did not trust him as that feeling never goes away… “What do you want Anrir?” You finally say after a minute of silence.

“You, Dragă.” Anrir says quickly breathlessly.

Again you lay there silently thinking… you didn’t know what he wanted��� was it really just being with you? You’ve been with him for months at this point and you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. You did research on bonds from what little you could find and everything kept coming back to just wanting to keep their bonded alive and safe. You were scared to let someone in your safe little world but you were so tired of keeping everything so tight to your chest. Maybe it was because you were sick but you nod and let out a heavy sigh softly saying, “I trust you Anrir.”

His reaction was immediate as he pressed his cheek to yours and you could feel the purring in your teeth as it was so loud, your finger bones felt like they were vibrating, but you didn’t feel the quick kisses that he leaves on your skin. You whimper at the sudden affection. It was anrir’s quirk as he was odd with his affection as whenever you would seek him out for affection he would smother you in his affection but you were okay with it because it was on your terms… your gut wouldn’t stop at the feeling that sometimes it was on his terms luring you in… He presses a kiss to your forehead trilling, his accent thick, “I don’t want you to worry any more my Dragă. I will take care of everything.” His black eyes seem to glitter in delight as he makes his declaration. And you just let go of that tension a bit more.

You don’t know how Anrir found this place, it had a horribly short lease but you knew that it was just to get you out of the weather… you’re certain this place wasn’t built for Astartes in mind so usually that meant they weren’t allowed. You guessed that the landlord looked the other way if said Astartes was paying in cash. It was small and cramped... but it was warm and you could store more than just a bit of food. You were sitting in the tub as Anrir sat on the side shirtless as his hands were massaging shampoo into your hair. You didn't need help with your hair but that didn't stop you from leaning into his hands as he helped you feel clean.

Anrir chuckled at your gentle groaning and moaning as it was clear you were enjoying yourself. He enjoyed helping you feel this way helping you clean and take care of you in this small way... he shivered as he was cleaning his Dragă... he wrapped his Dragă in a nice fluffy towel... he carried his Dragă to the bedroom and savored the laugh that left your mouth as he just tossed you onto the bed with a bounce.

You just laid there, eyes closed, enjoying yourself... sure there was only one bed which was fine as you had spent most of the winter snuggling up to Anrir in the car, it was not the most comfortable mattress in the world... the apartment was quiet...no it was never quiet not with the thin walls... but Anrir was quiet. You became aware of how you were just laying naked on the bed... alarms were going off in your head as you feel his smooth hands run over your knees, feeling his thumbs push into the side as he spreads your legs open slowly. This wasn't normal... and yet this felt like what everything was building up too... but you were always told that bonds were selfless things, right?

Your skin trembles as his hands move over your drying flesh, your breathing shivers, you can feel the bed shift as Anrir climbs onto it. Your throat bobs as you swallow the nervous energy but your eyes open as you feel the bare skin of his legs as he had divested himself of his pants. Anrir's silent still as he presses his scarred lips against your cheek, his body leaning over yours as he settles between your legs, and you feel his hand move to your chin to slowly turn you to meet him. His lips dragging against your flesh as the scarred flesh presses against your own lips. You were close enough that you could tell that his eyes were not fully black... you could see the dark blue of his iris darting with micromovements as he took in your face. But, you could see the predator in his eyes... but it was something more the term hyper-predator comes to mind because what monsters would someone like Anrir need to hunt?

Anrir presses his mouth to yours more and you close your eyes allowing the kiss to deepen. Anrir had been nothing but good to you... but you worry... would he use this against you? You desperately hope that he wouldn't. "Mina..." His voice rumbles like thunder as his hands drag across your flesh in a way that feels dominant and possessive. You can't stop the shuddering moan that leaves your mouth as his mouth moves against the front of your neck, licking the way your throat moves in its swallowing motion. "Toate ale mele… (All mine...)" He says whispering to you in a language that you don't know, "Fiecare parte din tine… toată a mea… trupul și sufletul tău. (Every part of you... all mine... your body and your soul.)" He says again as Anrir presses his cock against your entrance. His mouth continuing its worship of your neck and chin as you open your eyes slightly and just watch Anrir with lidded eyes. He cups your face as his tongue presses hard on your lower lip before pushing his tongue back into your mouth just kissing you hard.

You knew you had fringe thoughts about Astartes... Anrir was just proving to you one thing... that they were far too human to ignore. Far too human and far too predatory... you could never get that feel good emotion from Anrir... from any Astartes really. They were all predators... they were man made monsters made to fight monsters that you didn't know would exist beyond the silver screen of Hollywood or the writings of horror writers. He pulls his mouth away trilling at you and pausing when he sees the look on your face. You were looking at a predator looking at prey a malicious looking thing that tried to play the part of a friendly thing... a wolf playing the role of a dog. "Anrir."

"Yes Dragă." He says as a hand cups your face.

"What do you want?" You again ask... because... you don't think he's lying about the bond but this wasn't normal? You felt everything rushing anxiously to a point.

"You, Dragă." He says devotedly.

You were tired... so tired of being on your own for years before Anrir came. Oh how much Anrir had helped beyond just the money he gave you and the food... just being here... even if it was wrong... even if... you were so tired. You pull Anrir into a kiss as you didn't want to think anymore! You didn't want to worry any more... you whimper as Anrir just purrs loudly as you decide to let Anrir take care of it... take care of you... just for today you tell yourself as you melt into the embrace.

You feel the slight discomforting sensation of your walls spreading open as his cock slowly pushes in. When it becomes too much your hand or foot pushes against his chest which makes him stop till your brow stops furrowing and you for him to continue. This continues until his hips are flush with yours and Anrir hisses in delight, "Atât de strâns atât de bine cu mine… draga mea… a mea. (So tight so good to me... my dear... mine.)" You once more don't understand him but you decide to not worry about it as he starts moving. Your thighs burn slightly at the stretch to have them spread open wide for Anrir to thrust into you. Your eyes close as you focus on the feeling and enjoy that he doesn't ask you to look at him but that doesn't stop him from talking, "Mă simți fată frumoasă? (Do you feel me pretty girl?)" He trills in that unknown tongue, "Te concentrezi pe penisul meu din interiorul tău? (Are you focused on my cock inside of you?)" He asks something else perhaps not realizing or caring that you don't understand him.

He picks up the pace as he pants down at you and you just yowl and moan in pleasure. Porn making everything feel so fake when real sex sounds so unsexy at times but you had no need to make things sound sexy or be perfect. You could hear Anrir chuckle at an unflattering noise you make as he slams his hips into yours again making you repeat it. Eventually things feel tighter and more anxious as Anrir tilts you slightly so his cock pushes into you at a downward angle and you just laugh at the unflattering squeak and squawk that you make. Anrir laughs with you at all those weird and all those distinctively you vocalizations but you just don't care as no one is telling you that you're being unappealing... you throw your head back and arch up as you earned the right to not worry. You moan loudly moaning his name as you feel so good! You earned this reward! You deserve this... you deserve to just let go... you orgasm with little fan fair... just a simple gasp.

You feel so good... everything feels so good as Anrir continues to chase his release, the feeling of a bed against your back, the fuzzy climbdown from an orgasm, the oily drop of sweat from Anrir that lands on your shoulder, and the comforting stutter from him that stutter causes you to open your eyes to watch his brow furrow and you watch how surprisingly expressive he gets as he cums.

The apartment is mostly quiet... as quiet as you can get with thin walls... you lay there with him not thinking about anything... not thinking as you feel his cock softening against your inner thigh. He lets out a loud breath as he lays back in bed in his spot as you meanwhile are pushing away the worry about the consequences of sleeping with Anrir. You cuddle against his side, his arm wrapping around you, you feel the cum ooze out of you ... you're still tired of thinking... you're so tired of it... so tired of worrying why and what Anrir was doing for money... You put your head against his chest over his hearts ignoring the discomfort of the ports against your face... you just listen to the way his hearts beat.

Present day

You were in a much better spot than when you were a couple of years ago... you actually came into money, no it wasn't a rich distant relative dying but it was another person you had camped with when you were homeless. They had actually won the lottery and were being smart with it, which you think was more so their Ultramarine had helped in making smart choices. Though you had your suspicions... the Alpharii... a few seem to come by every few months some to coo at the kids, eager to find a bonded, and some to talk with Anrir as you watched them take containers from your home. But being given money you sudden just kept finding yourself with more money and it was stupid how much money you got after investing some of it... you didn't want to question it and Anrir was very good at distracting you.

Oh speaking of Anrir... he got you so many gifts. He would still give you random bouts of cash but he was finally acting more and more like how a bonded Astartis is supposed to act. You also were seeing how talented he was with his hands as besides his occupation you discovered his macabre hobby that all Night Lords seem to have... bone scrimshawing and taxidermy. You could point out all the time that he acted like a normal bonded Astartis and yet at the same time... how many gestures were more. You got outfits, jewelry, wines, your current house, and hell even your job you know he had a hand in financing... it spiraled out of control with his gifts that your friends noticed and asked who your 'sugar daddy' was or rather if he had any friends.

You smile warmly and wave goodbye as the last child finally gets picked up. You head back inside letting out a soft exhale and start picking up the room not getting very far into cleaning up when Anrir wraps his arms around you and purrs into your shoulder... purring into where he tattooed you years ago. You feel him give a playful tug onto the choker collar that he made for you, expensive thing and you know he liked you wearing it. You were lucky that no one asked you what Anrir was... everyone just assumed he was a Raven Guard...

"I can smell your worry Dragă." He says nipping your earlobe.

"I'm just tired Anrir."

"Then lets go home." He kisses your cheek.

"But I have stuff to pick up-"

"And this is why we hire others to clean," He says gentle cocking his head to the side, "You're worried about something." Anrir takes the toy from your hands as you pick at the seams.

You let out a heavy sigh bringing your thumb to your lips, "I'm just scared everything is about to go wrong." Anrir takes your hand to stop you from biting your nails.

"And if it does... I will take care of it." Anrir says with such certainty and authority that makes you believe him.

The breath in your chest you let out with a heavy sigh, "Okay." You nod.

He tugs on your choker bringing you close for a kiss as he trills softly, "I will always take care of you my frumoasă dragă (beautiful darling)." And you chose to believe it.

[menlikeair]

WASH MY LOVE. [eddie vedder x fem!reader]

mdni. smut kinda fwb, fingering, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, marking, rough-ish sex, slight voyeurism.

words: 2k

the barricade swayingly pressed against your ribcage in waves, each time pushing a huff of breath from your lungs as the crowd swayed and moshed with each song.

the long-haired frontman swinging from the rafters of a club they’d long since outgrown as artists didn’t help the excitement of the youthful mob shoving you forward.

finally, after encore, the lights dimmed and the antsy crowd seemed to slowly disperse. a handful made their way around the side of the stage, flashing their working or backstage passes to the burly cross-armed men guarding the dimly lit entrance. you obliged to the ritual and flashed your own to make your way down the graffitied hallway.

behind you, a voice rang out and you slowly turned on your heels,

“so…” a woman grinned mischievously. her heavily ringed fingers brought a cigarette to her stained lips, remnants of clinique black honey. she blew the thin stream of smoke up towards the ceiling before meeting your gaze again.

“you and vedder, what’s the situation?..”

you grinned and shook your head. news traveled fast in certain social circles. the woman pushed strands of her jet-black pixie cut from her eyes as she searched your face for any further answers.

“we’re just friends… that’s all.”

she hummed in a dissatisfied tone, a slight expression of disbelief flashed across her face, “and you’re a bad liar.” she nudged your shoulder as you walked together down the hallway closer to the room at the end of the hall buzzing with chatter and music.

the room looked like a barber's worst nightmare, nothing but wild long hair and drab flannel as far as the eye could see. your eyes grazed over the group of chattering bandmates, roadmen, friends, and groupies until they landed on the man to the side with his damp shirt thrown over his shoulder. you watched his large hands, one clutching to a dark green beer bottle, as he laughed and retold stories to a group who hung onto every word.

you floated around the room and said your hellos, took tokes that were offered until a familiarly strong hand landed on your shoulder. he teasingly squeezed, pulling your gaze directly to his defined face.

the aura from the man was almost overwhelming. with his pupils blown with adrenaline, you almost didn’t recognize him. you noticed as his surprisingly broad chest quickly rose and fell. you imagined the mound of muscle behind his ribcage quickly thumbing against its strong wall.

in the scene, you’d learned why musicians quickly fell into cycles of drinking and drug abuse, it was nearly impossible for the artists to just go home with a cup of tea and rest on the couch. the epinephrine coursing through them as the aftermath of a packed show was visceral.

eddie leaned to sit his beer down before his hand grasped yours and pulled you through the chattering crowd. he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind the two of you. his grin slowly spread across his face,

“haven’t seen that mug around here in a while,” he leaned closer to press a sloppy kiss against your tense cheek, teasingly rubbing the sweaty dampness from his tanned skin against you. you lightly squealed as you pushed him away playfully.

“well, i don’t like seeing this mug swinging twenty feet above my head,“ you grinned, letting your smooth hand trail down his arm, grasping his and pulling your shirt up,

“see? too wild for me anyway.” the rail of the barricade pushing against your upper rips had already made its mark. light stripes of purple and red marked your skin as you glanced up at his reaction, his skillful fingers brushing over the marks.

“hm, let me see.” eddie crouched lower, placing his hands on each side of your waist as if to examine the marks as you held your shirt up to show the evidence.

“oh, baby, look at you...” he hummed deeply, almost mischievously as he flashed a familiar smirk, his pupils still blown with post-show adrenaline as he glanced upwards to meet your gaze. the man brushed a wild curl behind his ear before pulling your shirt over his head, his breath warm against the skin of your torso.

eddie’s teeth grazed the growing bruise, forcing you to suck sharply through your teeth before his hands slid to your back, teasingly tugging at the hooks of your bra strap, “but too wild for you is a stretch.” he murmured deviously.

“eddie!” you clutched his shoulder tightly, feeling his methodical fingers unclipping the material, “eddie, stop that!” you whisperingly muttered, squeezing his exposed shoulder tighter.

“shh,” he shushed beneath the fabric of your shirt as his hand trailed back to your torso, his fingers feathering over your hardening nipple.

“what if someone sees,” you swallowed down nervously, feeling your knees weaken as his perfectly straight teeth grazed your nipple teasingly,

“nobody’s gonna see,” he muttered deeply, taking his head out of your shirt to stand, keeping his hands beneath the material as he wrapped them around you to tightly press you against his chest, leaning his head to press faint kisses along the side of your neck,

“you haven't missed this?” he muttered, barely more than a raspy whisper, “haven’t missed me?”

your heart fluttered, the answer hidden on your tongue, where it had been hidden for weeks, but you couldn’t muster the words.

you could only think of the first time you’d met the man, the first time you’d seen him on stage. his face flushed a deep red, he could barely look out into the stagnant crowd as he sang; a stark difference to the man in front of you now.

but he wasn’t going to prod more, he wanted to feel your answer. he pulled his lips from your neck and turned to guide you to the corner, hidden behind large stacked cases full of equipment.

“this okay?” his gaze flashed to you as you nodded quickly, his head dipping down as he lifted your shirt once again, his tongue sliding across your hard nipple. his lips trailed down further, and his palms pressured your chest, forcing you to sit on the equipment case with your back against the wall. his palm slid between your legs, parting them with ease before his fingers hooked and ripped the dark pantyhose beneath your short skirt.

“look at this,” his words made the bundle of nerves between your legs ache with impatience. eddie pulled back to gaze up at you from between your legs, his fingertips slid between the wet folds between your legs. your face flushed as he teasingly tsked at the sight of you, short skirt, no underwear, the answer was right in front of him, words weren’t necessary.

his mouth fell agape in mock surprise, his eyes not daring to leave yours as the pad of his thumb rubbed small circles against your clitoris, “what happened, forget them at home, baby?” he grinned, a deep crimson crept across your high cheekbones.

“i... i just..thought we —” you whined sweetly, your hand instinctively going down to entangle your fingers with his brown curls,

“mm..” he hummed knowingly, interrupting your useless whispered explanation. his hands roughly grasped each thigh to part them as he lapped an agonizingly slow stripe against your soaking womanhood, his eyes focused on the sight of your flushed cheeks and lidded expression.

your breath hitched in anticipation as he dropped his head, allowing his tongue to slowly circle your sensitive clit, his tongue dipping down to lap up the drips of wetness sliding down your slit.

“right.. there, please...” you whined sweetly, rolling your head back in an attempt to string any conscious thought together as he slipped two fingers inside and out slowly.

your legs attempted to press together, but eddie’s strong fingers dug into the soft skin of your inner thigh as he forced them open, his tongue working against your clit busily, entirely enveloped by you. your scent. your skin. warmth against his mouth and around his fingers. exactly where we wanted to be.

“eddie,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his busy tongue. each movement from him was mindless and uncalculated, allowing his instinct to guide each action. he wanted to force you to show him just how much you’d missed him and you were doing that.. beyond expectation as your movements became tense and your orgasm approached swiftly. you held his tongue in place and rocked your hips against him as his fingers and mouth coaxed you further, his fingers still working you over.

your legs shakily closed as eddie stood and wrapped his hands around each hip to guide you and help your weakened legs stand. he turned you, allowing your hands to rest on the equipment case for grounding as his two middle fingers parted your swollen lips from behind. he forced your mouth open, letting the slickness of your tongue guide his fingers back into your mouth. your taste flooded your tastebuds as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked his slick fingers clean, “mm, just like that.” his words were course and deep, an extra layer of baritone to his already strong voice.

you heard the undoing of his belt buckle and felt his thickness pressed against you from behind, heavy and hot against your skin. his tip leaked with pre-cum and he reached down to align himself with your sensitive entrance. he slipped inside slowly, an almost unintelligible moan escaped from his parted lips as your tightness wrapped around his thick cock. his fingers fell from your lips and his hands roughly grasped each hip to slowly guide you back further onto his cock.

he let you adjust to his size as he filled you from behind.

you weakly turned your head to the side as he leaned his chest completely against your back and joined your lips. his tongue sloppily slipped into your mouth as the slow rhythmic movement of his hips quickened, one free hand trailing up to run his fingers through your hair before grasping a handful at the root. he forced your head back further with a tug as both his cock and tongue deepened inside.

he parted the kiss, allowing breathy moans to fall from your flushed swollen lips, “feels so good,” your eyes rolled back as his lidded and darkened gaze observed each movement from you almost primitively.

“listen to you… everyone’s gonna know how much of a slut you are, getting fucked out here in the open, is that what you want?” he muttered against your ear as he increased the pace, the harshness of his pounding and grasp on your hair becoming relentless. his wide palm fell against your asscheek, his fingers gripping you tightly as a sharp burning sensation filled the spot of his hand. and another swift spank followed behind.

you whined inaudibly and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in a failed attempt to stifle your needy whines and groans. you tip-toed to push your ass against his tense naval as you gave him the perfect angle to slide deeper with his cock. the man hummed in approval as his lips dipped down to press warm kisses against the side of your neck once more, sucking the thin skin and sinking his teeth to leave small marks in place of his lips; a keepsake, your souvenir. he knew you weren’t one for overpriced band shirts anyway.

you arched your back as another wave of ecstasy hit you like a brick wall without warning. your name fell from his lips like a hopeless prayer as he followed suit seconds later. eddie’s strong grasp released you as his forehead fell against your shoulder in his orgasm, his thrusts slowed lazily and his moans deepened and went hoarse against your skin. you both panted weakly, your body weakened and limped beneath his weight.

“i really did miss you.” your words were almost incoherent as you turned to face limply towards the man adjusting his belt and and quietly tucking an unruly curl behind his ear before nodding in knowing.

with a satisfied smirk, he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your lips, snaking his arm around the small of your waist to pull you closer to his chest.

“i know,” he mumbled into your hair as the burning question on his tongue was answered now, and not only physically.

[wreckedandpolemic]

to my knees you do promote me - matty healy

prompt: queen of hearts

(mdni) day 6 and my final entry into valentine75! these were soo fun thank u vee @abiiors

warnings: sub!matty, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Your leather pants cling to you fluidly, like a second skin, matching gloves stretching up to your elbows. You pose dramatically, raking a hand through your hair and pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek, savouring the way Matty’s gaze burns against your skin. He doesn’t know where to look, eyes darting wildly from the laces that cross over a strip of bare outer thigh; to your bare stomach, silver jewellery adorning your belly; to your tits, cradled in a black lace bralette with straps crossing your décolletage in a way that’s reminiscent of a harness.

“You like it?” you ask, smirking as he swallows thickly.

A charged, silent moment passes. “You can’t wear that,” he finally gets out, voice low and gravelly.

You take a deliberate step towards him, boots clacking on the wood floor, lips stretching in a predatory grin when he flinches. “Why not?” you pout, “Don’t I look hot?”

Matty’s answer comes embarrassingly quickly. “God, yes,” he groans, eyes lidded as his gaze sends heat flushing under your skin. “You can’t wear that, ‘cos I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Laughing to yourself, you close the distance between you and sling your arms around his neck. Matty stiffens, a trembling breath ghosting over your lips. “Can’t control yourself, hm? Am I driving you crazy, baby?”

“Mhmm,” he murmurs. You can see him slipping, eyes glazing over, wide and needy. 

You grin, sly and teasing, and reach down to palm his cock through his jeans. He whines softly, already melting in your hands, pliant and sugary-sweet under your touch. “Oh, baby,” you murmur, tone drenched in faux concern. “You need it, huh?” High spots of colour paint Matty’s cheeks and his eyes fall to the ground as he nods. “Words, baby,” you instruct.

“Want you,” he says, the confession coming out quiet and penitent. You press a kiss against the corner of his mouth in reward, his lips twitching in a pout as a silent plea for more. “Please,” he adds, anticipating the words balanced on the tip of your tongue.

Matty’s hips jerk involuntarily against your hand as you slip your hand into his boxers and squeeze lightly. “Such a good boy,” you coo, admiring him as your words pull him deeper into that soft, malleable state. Getting him like this is rare, and you usually don’t get a sign before it comes on; Matty has a tendency of bottling up his stress until the glass shatters under the pressure and he comes to you pleading to lose control. “How do you want me?” you ask, still stroking him gently. Matty shudders, cock drooling into your fist.

It’s not always like this, all whispered praise and reverent quiet — sometimes, Matty needs some coaxing to let go, pushing back against you defiantly until you can bend him enough to fall. “Want your mouth. Please.” He’s quiet but sure, and you smile indulgently at him.

He inhales sharply as you drop to your knees in front of him, nuzzling your cheek against his clothed cock. A whine falls from his lips, so pathetic that you almost feel guilty about the scant tease. You free his cock, kissing the flushed head, crooning praise as he fights to hold still. “My pretty boy,” you murmur, watching through your lashes as a flush spreads over his cheeks and he smiles shyly. “Such a pretty dick, too,” you add, stroking over him and relishing the way he moans and shivers under your touch.

You run your tongue along the length of Matty’s cock, the salt of him intoxicating in your mouth. Your name falls from his lips, rapturous, as you swallow him whole. His head lolls back, his moans a litany that has heat buzzing under your skin. There’s power in this, in reducing him to a needy, obedient mess; him who bends you over and fucks you until you’re crying, who fists a hand in your hair and whispers sweet cruelties in your ear, who tells you shut up and take it like a good girl.

Desire throbs sickly in your gut. You press a hand between your legs and grind down against it, moaning around Matty’s cock as it bumps the back of your throat. Pulling off, you lap at his tip, thin tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as your hips roll against your hand. You go to take him in your mouth again but he stills you with a gentle hand.

With a question in your eyes, you look up at him. “Wanna get you off,” he says, eyes wide and glossy with desire.

You smile up at him, his face open and earnest as you stand to face him. You press your lips to his, swallowing his whine as he tastes himself on your tongue. His kiss is shy as he accepts whatever you give, controlled and ascetic. “Such a sweet boy.” You walk him to the bed, pulling him down on top of you without breaking the kiss.

Inhaling greedy lungfuls of his quiet moans and shuddering breaths, your hands slide to the laces of your pants and you start to untie them. Matty’s hands tremble as they come to cover yours, the knots coming loose under his touch in a way your body recognises. His eyes don’t leave yours as he makes his way down your body, his gaze sparking heat under your skin that drips down your spine and pools between your legs. You tangle a hand in his curls as he tugs your pants down just enough to fit himself between your thighs, his pained whine syrupy-sweet against your skin when you tug at them just slightly.

White spots dance across your vision as Matty’s lips connect with your skin, his tongue insistent and feverish over your clit. You moan softly, pleasure rolling over you in gentle waves; he takes the sound as an encouragement, redoubling his efforts with fervour. He’s losing himself in you, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue roves over your cunt, teasing your clit and then dipping inside you, back to your clit before you even feel the loss.

“Good boy,” you say, cunt clenching around Matty’s tongue as he fucks it into you in a gorgeous, deliriating rhythm. The praise has him reeling, his hips grinding down against the bed as he whimpers into your cunt. “I love you like this,” you murmur sweetly. “Don’t care about getting off, do you? Just wanna let me use you, hm? Making me feel so good, Matty. So fucking good,” you promise, carding your hands through his hair as he brings a hand up to you with your clit, a burst of pleasure buzzing up your spine when he rubs a skilled circle over your sensitive nerves.

“Wanna make you cum,” he whines, pleading, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. The calloused pad of his finger brushes divinely against your clit, the scrape sending a thick pulse of heat winding around your organs. Your responding moan has Matty burying his tongue in your cunt, devouring you with a ferocity that sends ecstasy ricocheting through your body, your hands fisting in the sheets as you moan and writhe uncontrollably.

His hips grind down against the sheets brainlessly, his body chasing his pleasure while his mind is singularly focused on yours. Desire ramps up under your skin, setting you aflame. Blood pounds in your ears, your world tunnelling down to where Matty’s hands grip your thighs, where his fingers circle over your clit, where his tongue thrusts in and out of you in an earth-shattering rhythm. His nails bite into your tender, sweat-slick skin, the faint edge of pain tracing lovingly around the curves of your arousal.

“God Matty, fuck,” you whine. “Feels so fucking good. God, I love your fucking tongue. My good boy.” He doesn’t let up, practically dragging your hips down to fuck his tongue impossibly deeper into you, until your body can’t take it anymore. Your hands fist in his hair as your body catches alight, screaming his name as you soak his lips and chin. Euphoria pumps in your veins, your heart working in overdrive as it seeps into your organs. All the air leaves your lungs, pleasure choking you out, Matty’s tongue still working over your clit as your cunt clenches around nothing.

You come back to your senses and Matty’s eyes meet yours, pure adoration passing between you. Need is written openly on his face, underlined by his flushed, drooling cock hanging hard and heavy where he kneels between your legs. “Can— can I cum? Please?” he murmurs, hands hovering nervously over his stomach, his body a hard line of tension that hangs on your strings.

Slowly, you move around the bed, stripping out of what remains of your clothes and helping Matty out of his. You climb over him, resting your hands on his shoulders and pushing gently.  “Lie back, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He nods obediently, letting himself fall against the pillows, his eyes glued to your slick, messy cunt as you lower yourself onto him. His name falls from your lips in a low moan, the stretch in your cunt familiarly divine, burning pleasure pulling at all of your limbs at once. “You feel so good,” Matty whimpers, hips bucking and striking that perfect spot inside you that sends ecstasy careening through your bloodstream. “I love it when you fuck me like this. So fucking pretty,” he moans.

You drive your hips down at a punishing pace, eyes rolling back in your head as your moans mingle with his in the air between you, thick with molten desire. Bracing your hands against Matty’s chest, you lean down to kiss him, swallowing his gasps as his hips meet yours, heat kissing up your spine. “Doing so good, baby,” you murmur, losing yourself in his eyes, so wide they look black, so liquid you could drown in them. “My good boy,” you promise, sitting up and clenching your cunt around him, his quiet whimper sweetly pathetic in your ears as you roll your hips.

Nails biting into your thighs, Matty’s breathing turns sharp, unsteady. His hips crash wildly against yours, delicious arrhythmia pounding between your bodies. Your head tips back and your mouth falls open in a gasp, sticky heat pooling low in your belly. “‘M so close,” Matty whimpers, eyes falling closed as he writhes powerlessly under you. “‘M gonna cum, can I cum, please, please, please.” He draws the words out, stretching them into a sweet, broken moan that squeezes around your heart before kicking fiercely in your cunt.

“Hang on for me, just for a minute, okay, baby?” His eyes go wide, fearful, and you press a finger to his lips to silence his protests. Pleasure arcs up your spine, sharp bursts following every movement of your hips. Gazing down at him, you catalogue every inch of his face, scrunching in effort of holding back. “Good boy,” you murmur, the vast chasm of ecstasy yawning beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “You wanna cum?” Matty nods, his whole body trembling feverishly. “Then cum for me, baby.”

The moan he gives is enough to tip you over the edge, plummeting into ecstasy so deep you lose yourself in it, stomach twisting and head coming unglued from your body. Matty’s cock pulses gloriously inside you, pumping you full as your cunt clenches around him, euphoria flooding your limbs. You slump forward, pulling Matty with you as you roll onto your side and slinging a leg over his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin there.

You run your fingers through his curls gently, curling close and basking in the warmth of his body all around and inside you. “Such a good boy,” you murmur fondly, eyes slipping closed as you press a kiss to the top of his head. “My good boy.”

[tojibrat]

╰⪼┆ cw: (f)reader, unprotected sex, use of ‘daddy’ Once, pet names (sweet thing, baby, pretty/good/sweet girl), light slapping, praise, hint at (f)receiving oral sex at the end, mediocre writing lol | mdni

toji loves to cum inside you. he can’t help himself when he sees his thick load slowly pump down your slick folds from out of your abused hole… it nearly makes his brain melt. he can’t help himself when his cock springs to life again and feels the urge to stuff you full with another load.

he slides his glistening length inside you again and it makes your head spin. your eyes are screwed so tightly shut as the feeling of toji’s thick cock dragging against your plump walls was beginning to become too much.

“to..toji… can’t take ‘nymore.. please..!”

toji grunts in response to your pleas, but they inevitably fall on deaf ears. “that’s too bad, sweet thing. you’ll take what i give ya. i know how much you like to be stuffed full, baby. you’ll take another load for me, for your daddy, won’t you, pretty girl?”

rough, calloused hands keep an ironclad grip on your hips as toji keeps a steady pace, knocking his hips relentlessly against the fat of your ass, taking a moment to close his eyes and take a listen to the sloppy sounds from down below. he opens them once more to glance down at your face, smushed to the side against a pillow, making a smug smile tug against his scarred mouth. he can’t stop himself from running his mouth, groaning, “y’hear how sopping wet you are? how messy i make this pussy? tell me, pretty.”

soft whimpers are all that escape you as you try to form words, brain practically spilling out your ears from toji’s firm thrusts. toji leans down, and suddenly you feel a slight sting on your cheek from toji’s hand coming down several times on your hot face, bringing your attention back to him. “words, baby. you know how to use ‘em.”

toji trails scorching kisses down the side of your neck as far as he was able before straightening out again, which gives you enough motivation to successfully spit your words out, “i-i hear it, i-it’s good, ‘s so good, toji!”

your sweet words prove to be enough to finally make toji slowly cease his movements, stilling and pressing up into you as far as your bodies would allow, twitching dick abruptly spilling thick, milky ropes into your fatigued body. toji savors the feeling of steadily sliding his cum-covered cock out of you, yet again watching his seed escape and dribble from your cute little hole. he thumbs it around your folds, even pushing some back inside, all the while snickering, “there we go, baby. what a good girl you are, huh? knew my sweet girl could do it.”

you feel yourself tiredly smile at his praise before you realize toji’s shifted downwards between your legs, and you’re flipped over on your back before you know it.

“now, how about i clean this mess up?”

[sxfterhearts]

i have a confession to make…

warning: 18+ mdni, explicit content ahead

ok so for the longest time i’ve tried to keep my blog super wholesome and PG with the rare exception of one or two suggestive/smut fics here and there but honestly. i’ve reached my limit 😭 i’m gonna have to do it guys im sorry i disappointed you

(fuck im so dramatic i can’t even)

(it = write that jiung smut fic that’s been living in the back of my head for the past few weeks but has been rudely awakened due to Recent Events IYKYK)

(IM SCARED OK I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT BUT I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS WHAT DO I DO WITH THEM RAHHH)

in the words of my moot — jiung you need to tone down your fanservice and visuals bc youre really making the chocochips act up 😭😭🫠😩

[apple-orchards-writings]

two hubbies that co-own you :) they pamper you and organize sacrifices while you fall asleep in their laps <3

^^^^^^^ IF YOU DON'T ELABORATE ON THIS I. WILL. PERISH!!! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE APPLE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT REPLY GOT ME JSJBDBRBDJRJR

Every morning you wake up, in both of your lovers' arms. Everything feels right with the world. You try to get up and get dressed, but they don't want you to, stay in bed with them and enjoy the morning, who cares if they have duties. After you manage to convince them to get out of bed (probably after some morning sex, let's be real), they'll bicker over what jewellery you should wear the gold one with white accents or the black one with green accents.

They ultimately settle on both, complete with your usual collar, both of their names written on the little tag. Before they can start fighting on what you wear, you call in your handmaidens, and they help you choose a nice outfit, not too revealing, but still enough for your picky lovers to be satisfied. The next step is to have a nice breakfast, and today it's Sydney's turn to have you on his lap, though you both know that by the end of the meal, Kylar will have joined you, envious as he is.

When you move to the audience room to hear petitioners, you move next to Kylar's seat, and he enthusiastically grabs at you, dragging you in his lap and holding you there so you can fall asleep in his arms. He keeps you there for the rest of the morning, barely even listening to the people making demands, more focused on your steady breathing and the way you look so sweet and pliant, just for him (and Sydney).

Lunch time comes around, and Kylar wakes you up, smiling down at your sleepy face. All three of you get a nice lunch in the boudoir, your lovers refusing to let you do the slightest bit of work, insisting on feeding you. Usually this would also be a time to have some fun, but you're a bit too sleepy for that today, maybe later.

You let yourself drift off a little more in your lovers' embrace for a little longer, until you have to move to another part of the temple to witness the sacrifices. Not your favorite part of the day, but it is necessary, and Kylar will not let you skip out on it. You're about to get up when Sydney gathers you up in his big beefy arms and smiles down at you, carrying you to the altar room.

There, in between the two thrones, sits a nice, comfortable bean bag with a blanket, which you promptly wrap yourself in, curling up while you let Kylar do all the talking. His hand comes down to pet your head, brushing through your hair, and you lean into it before grabbing one of the books you left here last time, and diving into it, forgetting all about the sacrifice. You're only taken out of it when hearing the screams of the victim, but Sydney covers your eyes and shushes you gently when you turn to look, not to protect your innocence really, but mostly to have your full attention on him.

He motions for you to sit on his lap, and you climb to sit, facing him. You don't have to wonder what compelled him to ask you for long, because he's already grinding on you, not focusing on anything around the two of you anymore. He's panting quietly in your ear, hands holding onto your hips to push you down on him, telling you to be quiet in hushed whispers. You look to your left, and Kylar is struggling to not stare at you, you can see his jaw clenching and his fists crunching up his robes.

Sydney's going faster now, biting his lip to try and stay silent, and you can feel his hard on now, even with the robes in the way. Your little gasps and whimpers have not escaped Kylar's notice, and he seems to have teared up his robes with how hard he's clutching them. You reach out to at least hold his hand, which he gratefully takes and brings to his mouth, sucking on your fingers.

Sydney's noticed your little noises too, and decides to kiss you to shut you both up effectively, which works a little, until he's biting and sucking at your lip. His hand moves to disrobe himself slightly, making you feel the heat of him even more. When you expect it to move away when he's done displacing his clothing, he instead takes the opportunity to slip his hand in your underwear, stroking at your core.

He's now sucking on your neck uncaring of any moans that slip out of you. His only goal is to make you cum now, he needs you to finish before him. He speeds up, his hand moving even faster and his hips thrusting harder. In a few short strokes, you come undone, and he allows himself to let go, ruining your outfit.

Before you can turn around to face the group of flustered cultists, you hear Kylar order for the proceedings to finish immediately, before he takes you from Sydney's arms and carries you to the bedchamber. He's determined to have his turn.

Once you're done with that, which is to say, a few hours later, you rejoin Sydney in the dining room, finally getting your own chair for the first time today. All three of you discuss advancements in the cult or the book you're reading lately, basically making pleasant conversation, before you're done eating and servants come to take away the empty plates.

You're then guided to your private bathroom by your lovers, who insist on holding your hands, even if you remind them you know where it is by now. They help you undress and wash, fondly lathering you in soap as you return the favor, fooling around and splashing each other, leaving responsibilities behind, in this moment you three can just be loving, and not care about the world outside. There are no fights, no arguments here, only tenderness and pure unadulterated love.

When all of you are squeaky clean and the water is getting cold, you relocate to your bedchambers, where you can prepare for a full night's rest, if nothing, or rather no one, disturbs your sleep tonight. You slip into bed, awaiting your lovers to cuddle and let yourself drift off in their arms again, until you wake up the next morning, ready to tackle the next day.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ready to Comply

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Villain!Reader

Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, light angst and violence.

Words: 4,4OO

He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

…and you used to be one of them.

Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the space. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared. He had done so much research on you. He knew everything.

His mind is running a million miles an hour to try and process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.

It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.

It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.

Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.

Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?

You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.

A challenge indeed…

“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”

That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.

“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”

“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.

Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.

“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.

“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”

“To yourself?” You nearly snort.

Bucky grits his teeth harder. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”

And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.

You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.

Sure, you can be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.

Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.

Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–

Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.

Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.

The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.

His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.

Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.

“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.

Always these games…

Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.

“Got something to run from?” you purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.

“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.

“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”

You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.

And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–

Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant war within themself - war between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knows that – has been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.

He’s good.

And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.

So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.

Grey-blue.

You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.

“I’m not.”

“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.

“You won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“You won’t,” you breathe.

A pause.

“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.

You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.

You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out makes you dizzier, and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.

You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee back. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushes his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.

Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now. Your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.

This man…

“Who would have known,” he murmurs against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”

You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–

“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Do it again.”

“Bucky.”

“Again.”

“Bucky.”

His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours. “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”

He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.

“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like all the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.

Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Then he smiles.

“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”

This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there in the end.

You feel it shift– your alliance.

“Shut up,” you snap and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.

He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees tremble and you would melt to the floor if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.

The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.

And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You can make him do anything.

He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise.

Maybe one thing. When you say his name.

“Bucky.”

Fuck.

Digging his fingers into your body so hard he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises –Good, you’re his now– he lets out an animalistic growl and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.

“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?

Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.

“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.

You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.

“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”

And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable.

It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–

“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”

You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”

Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.

Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.

He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.

Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.

Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.

“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.

But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?

He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.

“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.

Oh, he likes it when you call him that.

You do not need those ten Russian words. At all.

He smirks, “Ya gotov otvechat.”

[tojistip]

hai dottore fans

just a lil smth.... it'll be done this weekend prob >w<