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marilynthornhilllover · 2 months ago

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Can you please write rough smut for grey hair Emily Prentiss that’s just… total shameless filth😭 like choking, breeding kinks, semi public sex (in her office)

I could eat that girl for lunch

Emily prentiss x Fem!reader

Warning: smut 18+, breeding kink, semi public sex, breast kink, spitting kink, choking kink, praise kink, mommy kink, one slap, slight cunniligus, fingering, slight strap fucking, etc.

A/N: oh I lost it with this one🤭enjoy sorry it took so long 😭

You knew it was wrong to think of your boss Emily in such a way.... but God damn it. You just couldn't control yourself anymore. I mean come on she's the Emily prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, who wouldn't be obsessed with her, sorry in love with her. She was insufferable, almost irresistible like a drug. The way she would bite her lips when ever she laughed or was focused on something very important.

Or The way she held her hands in her pockets and stood against door frames or leaned against desks. The way her hips would sway whenever she struts down the hallway towards her office and finally, the way she looks at you. The way this woman would look at you was everything. Her eyes, they were always glued to you when you were busy doing your work. She thought you didn’t notice her but gaze detection is a real thing that works.

Emily would stare at you as if she wanted to devour you. And it always made you weak. It made your skin get heated and your mind go dizzy. You couldn’t focus when her eyes were on you, it was as if every cell in you wanted to explde. The time you wore a strapless shirt to work because it was too hot out, and for the entire day she couldn't find the decency to stop her eyes from roaming over your collarbone and shoulders, and the other time you wore a mini skirt and a top that had a zip in the middle that was pulled down just enough to see your cleavage. She went nuts.

Emily knew of your angel face, but she didn’t let that fool her. She knew you had dirty thoughts of her, you even went as far as making a dirty jokes about her. One time she overheard Jennifer asking you if you were to fuck anyone in the office who would you fuck and you had chosen 'Emily'.

You always had a thing for older women, and everyone in the office knew, so maybe it’s obvious that you had quite a massive crush on your boss as well. You heard rumors of Emily being “ talented” with her tongue and “skilled” with her fingers. You did have the privilege to meet one of Emily’s ex-girlfriends at a seasonal greeting event, and by her words “ Emily almost took her out of the world”.

You did try to do your work as best as possible and tried your very hardest to keep out of her way. And for some time it had seemed to work. Emily caught onto the drift and sensed that you were giving her the cold shoulder and the both of you stuck to strictly business and work professional procedures and encounters. But none of this stopped Emily from winking at you from time to time and even going as far as moving you aside by your waist using her hands when you were both in the kitchen getting lunch at the office.

Her hands in your waist sent electric shocks throughout your body, and each time she gave you a sly smirk. You did try to ignore her most of the time. And for a while it lasted.

So tonight you don’t know what possessed you to sneak into Emily’s office. There was a big case that was on the table and it required all hands on deck. You had decided to stay back and help Emily crack some codes but after half an hour in she left. It was pretty late, around 10:38 PM and you were exhausted. Your eyes flicked up to inspect your surroundings because sometimes people break into police departments to steal evidence.

That’s when you saw her that her office light was on and had decided to go turn it off and then after you would finish pack up and then leave . It wasn’t the first time being in her office, but it was the first time alone, by yourself….. with just her stuff. Her jacket was thrown on the back of her chair and a couple of her personal belongings sprawled out on her desk. You had already checked for cameras and any audio devices, there were none. So you took off your pants and panties, shirt and bra leaving yourself completely naked in your boss office.

Absolutely downright crazy, bat shit crazy. You sit in her chair and gently began fingering yourself at a slow pace, but quickly increased it as you became more desperate and needy. Your eyes were tightly shut closed, as your hand worked it’s magic down between your legs. All that can be heard was the wet sounds your cunt was making when you thrusted your fingers in your pussy, your weak hoasty moans and your loud and elaborate breathing as you neared your peak.

Your orgasm washed over you almost knocking you out of the chair and onto the floor causing you to topple over yourself . Your eyes hastily as you swallowed thickly and bit your lips.

“ well” a voice says, half disappointed half surprised. Your eyes snap up towards the entrance of the office to see Emily standing there. Her expression was unreadable. You felt all the blood drain from your face as your entire body freezes with both fear and shame. Emily smirked at you before she took a step into the room, closing and locking the door behind her ( you forgot to close the door?!) . She took slow strides towards the table as she pushed her hands into her pocket.

“ you know I really thought you were just a shy little good girl who knew her worth and knew how to ask for things…. But I guess I was totally wrong wasn’t I?” She asked, carefully walking around the desk, she stopped and stood in a position where she was pressing all her weight on one foot as she titled her head, inspecting you. She chuckled silently and further approached you.

“ could have fooled me babe” she says plainly, she then grabs you by your jaw and forces your face upwards to look at her. Still you remain frozen. A part of you couldn’t believe you had gotten into this situation and another part wanted to curl up into a ball and completely disappear for all eternity, never to be seen again.

“ look at you, I stood there for over 20 minutes, all in which you did nothing but fuck yourself senseless to the thought of me, don’t you see it now y/n your my slut” she says, purring the last two words, that may have reheated something in you because you need her all over again.

“ uh oh, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or did you lose your voice after screaming my name so loud? Oh Emily , fuck yes Emily, fuck me Emily” she mocked you and that’s when a realization of being naked hits you. You were completely bare before this woman. In her own office. Such a shame.

Emily’s eyebrow quirked in amusement as she looked at you shy away from her and look everywhere but into her dark eyes. She took the opportunity to look at your body intensely. With a silent hum her eyes wondered down your chest, stoping to look at your breast and how perked your nipples were. She then moved further down your body and her eyes landed on your vagina, from the way you were sitting she couldn’t see much but just the thought of fucking it got her going.

In one swift moment Emily grabbed you by your waist and tossed you onto the desk. You whined at the sudden action and prompted yourself up onto your elbows to remove some objects from behind of your back before you proceeded to lay down. Your legs opened up involuntarily which caused Emily to smirk as she stood between them causing them to spread even wider. Regardless of your previous orgasm you were already so desperate for this woman’s touch.

Emily took off her jacket and soon everything else went with it. She was bare in just her pants alone. You wanted her to remove it but you were too mesmerized by her stern breast to give a shit. Her pants were high waisted but allowed you to see her toned abs a little. God you wanted her so badly. Your shaking hands made their way up to her skin and you gently placed your hand on her abs admiring them, god she must work out real good. For a moment you thought that you were lost in heaven until you felt her remove your hand.

“Getting touchy now are we? That’s slutty behavior” she laughed, she loved teasing you and seeing you squirm beneath her. This wasn’t the first time Emily had you under this choke hold. There were many other times where she was able to get under you skin….. but those are stories for another time. She leaned down and hovered her lips over your mouth, contemplating if she should give into you or let you go crazy over her some more. Even though Emily could see the pleading look in your eyes she knew better than to give the devil what she wanted.

Emily chuckled as she removed a strand of hair from your already sweaty forehead to behind your ear. Her hand stayed there, behind your neck, for a while her grasp tightening every few seconds which caused you to release a quiet moan from your throat. Emily looked down at you in deep thought before her eyes flicked down to your lips. Her thump caressed your jaw for a little while before she spoke.

“ open your mouth” her request definitely caught you off guard but the way she said it made your thighs clench but you remember that she was laying between them, making it hard to do so. You looked up at her confused as your breathing got shallow. You gulped and did as she asked. For a while she did nothing but then she opened her mouth and slowly poured her saliva into your mouth.

You were a little disgusted because back in high school you were always the one to say that you’d never allow anyone to do this to you but things have changed, it’s Emily fucking prentiss. Sorry. It’s mommy. And something about this just turned you on more because you could feel the slick that was pooling between your thighs from your pussy. Emily stopped and watched you close your mouth. She gave you a look and you knew what she was asking without words. You swallowed. She then started kissing you. It was rough but slow at the same time, she made you feel as though you had all the time in the world.

She broke the kiss before you even had a chance to deepen it as she moved down to your breast. She left pecks all across your chest, small sucks and bites that will most definitely leave marks later on, not that you care. She continued her assault until she moved down to your nipple. She swirled her tongue around the small bud first before she looked up at you with mischievous eyes before then enveloped the entire bud into her mouth. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to just feel. She abused the small bud by gently biting it and sucking on it like a baby enjoying your moans.

Her hand fondled with the other neglected breast as the other made it’s s way down to your pussy, Emily knew you weren’t paying attention to her works so without notice she carefully pulled your lace pink panties to the side and inserted two fingers at the same time without warning. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. Your hands immediately flew to the edge of the table for support. Emily smirked and released your nipple with a ‘ pop ’ sound as saliva made a bridge from her mouth to the bud to which she broke by licking her lips.

“ that’s it baby, just like that? You like when mommy gives you what you want without you having to ask her?” You couldn’t even respond to her, your mind was clouded with her insufferable praises, perfume and god did her fingers do a number on you. Everytime her digits slid out of you and back in her lips twitched. The sound of your cunt squelching against her fingers and your petty moans and grunts as your body began to spams made Emily want to do more despicable things to you until you couldn’t walk.

“ fuck so good, this is squeezing my fingers so fucking good baby, I wish I had a fucking real cock to split you open with, get you pregnant with my babies, you’d like that huh?” She whispered, increasing her pace as she curled her fingers deeper into you cunt, touching your g-spot every few seconds as she buried her fingers knuckle deep into you. You could feel your skin heat up as a familiar feeling of pleasure built up within your lower abdomen. Your hips bucked up towards every thrust of her fingers as your hand grabbed her wrist to slow her actions, you wanted to last longer to prove to her that you weren’t just some cum hungry slut. But that would be pointless because you are just a cum hungry slut.

But with her praises and her fingers moving at the speed of light it was truly impossible. You tried to pull it off a little longer but you couldn’t.

“ I feel you clenching me so tight baby, let it go for mommy, I wanna feel you drench my fingers so bad baby” she purred in your ear, her breath hot against your skin, and with that sentence you came for her. You eyes rolled back and you could feel your juices pouring out of you and onto her fingers. Emily kept fucking you drawling out every whimper, twitch and cry that you had to give. You were completely dumbstruck and spiraling.

You felt as she withdrew herself from between your legs as the sound of her jeans being removed. You stayed there trying to catch your breath. You looked down to Emily and that’s when you see her pulling off her pants completely, a strap around her waist. It was a clear light purple with small glitter pieces in it and it was huge. Without even realizing you tried to back away from her but Emily was two steps ahead, catching onto what your intentions were she pulled you back down by your ankles and forced your legs apart.

Emily placed her hands under your knees and pushed them up above your chest. You’ve never seen any strap that big or long and you anticipated how well she’d fuck you with it for your first time. It was as if you became a virgin again.

“ why are you running now darling? You wanted mommy to fuck you so badly when you were in here all by yourself. Your gonna take it like a good girl now” her tone was so dark and seductive it made your skin crawl and your insides burn with desire.

She pinned your hands above your head and slowly sank the tip of her cock into you forcing a moan out of you. Your eyes slammed shut as you tried to focus on the stretch, the way she made the pain and the pleasure mix so good. She let loose of your hands and gently started choking you. The deeper she buried herself within you the more your eyes would roll back and your legs would quiver. You desperate pleas of moans and cries filled the room as Emily started thrusting into you with full force. Deep and fast the tip bruising your sweet spot every time.

Emily angled her hips ever so slightly, just enough to push her cock up against your cervix. Gently at first, but when she heard the mewl that escaped your mouth at her action and the way your body convulsed it became rougher each time. You trembled as she kept thrusting into you.

“ oh— oh GOD— Emily please, fuck I can’t TAKE IT ANYMORE” you cried but it fell on death ears. You tried to close your thighs to eliminate how well her cock drives into you but Emily’s grip on your neck made you mind mush. Continuing your attempt you tried to move away from her but that resulted in you getting a hard smack across your face as she choked you much rougher. Her nails digged into the flesh out your waist as she started pounding your pussy brutally whispering insults that you couldn’t quite hear due to your moans and the sound of her thighs connecting with your slick.

“ fuck that’s it, right there? Mhm? Right fucking there” she cooed as she pushed your legs further apart and circled her hips as she made her thrust more curved. Your body began to tremble and Emily chuckled as she looked down at the white circle ring around her cock. She felt as your body tensed up and you let out a pornographic moan of her name. She kept thrusting after you came until you whined and pushed her away with a hand on her abs. She pulled out and kneeled down eye level with your cunt.

She cleaned up the mess with her tongue. Cautiously sucking and pulling at your clit until you pushed her head away. She smiled at her work and at herself and looked up at you. Your chest raised and fall with every breath you took and your thighs were still shivering. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before whispering.

“ round two? We’ve got all night and I’m sure i recall you saying your flexible….”

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lo1k-diamonds · 23 days ago

Text

Be as it must 💜 Part 6 (end)

“If you let me claim you, I'll never let you leave.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It's time to make a decision about the future; Jungkook chose you, but what about you?

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: arguing, anger, teasing, brat!reader, explicit unprotected sex, oral (both), he struggles to reach the bedroom 👀, a vase is broken, marking and knotting

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 Here we have it-- the conclusion! This was super fun to write, I hope you all enjoy it! 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Time was a funny thing — one second, you were standing before seven alphas, the next, you were inside Jungkook’s car again, going home.

You glanced at his chest since you couldn’t look at him. He kept you pressed to his side, enveloped in his arm, his nose firmly to your head. Perhaps he had dozed off, but his embrace was just as firm as before. You wanted to see him, but you let out a small sigh and got more comfy instead.

You had no idea what was happening or what you were doing. There was the fact that the seven of them decided that barring Sunhwa from marrying any of them was not enough to cause social stigma, thus adding plenty of prohibitive deals and sanctions to punish her family’s business and wealth. Then there was the way you didn’t contest that you and Jungkook were made for each other. On top of that, there were all the jokes about him being lucky to have found the one omega probably still out in the world, and it just so happens to be his. Or all the suggestions about contacting his father and elders as a council to inform them of this ban taking effect immediately, which forbade their engagement. You didn’t know where to start unraveling the problem, but you knew it was coming because you were in his arms on your way to his apartment. The apartment you already referred to as home.

What did Hoseok say? Alphas were very protective. Shit.

You let Jungkook take your hand and lead you home, where a familiar view greeted you. In the car, he had made arrangements for Sunhwa to be fired and barred access everywhere immediately, and he personally stopped to change the apartment’s code.

“It’s the day we first met,” he told you, rolling your luggage inside at his insistence.

“You mean the day I was kidnapped and brought to you in zip ties?”

You frowned, and he shook his head, following you into the living room, “No, the day before. Year month day.”

He was serious as he got rid of his coat to throw it over the couch, and you straightened up as well. You had to take the hold of things while you still had it.

“So, here we are,” you started, clearing your voice. “As you might have guessed, I was on my way here when… Right, so I meant to let you talk. Before I leave.”

He only looked at you as he rolled up his sleeves, then he scoffed and headed to the dining room, “Want a drink?”

“No, I’d rather do this sober.”

He stopped and glanced at you, “You want to do this now? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I don’t go to bed angry.” Your eyebrows jumped; you spoke without thinking. “I mean, yes, but I can’t leave if things aren’t sorted out.”

His jaw twitched as he thought your words over, then he turned to you, “Alright. I think you heard everything you needed to tonight.” His lips twitched, and he pressed them before continuing, “I didn’t have a choice in that marriage contract, and I was doing everything I could to have it annulled. I didn’t mean to lead you on, and in fact, that was not what I was doing.”

Your eyebrow quirked, “It wasn’t?”

“No,” he insisted sternly. “It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Well, it’s not just about what it means to you, is it?” Your tone hardened as you faced him head-on, “An agreement involves two parts, first of all. Second, it apparently involves even more than two if your whole Family has to establish compensation for cutting it off. Third, it surely does not involve me. I don’t want to be dragged into shit I have nothing to do with.”

“You’re saying this is my fault.”

“That’s not what I said,” you said calmly.

“It’s what you’re implying,” he accused, but you shook your head.

“You didn’t force them to drug me and kidnap me. Don’t put words in my mouth. What I am saying is that you did lead me on.”

“No,” he kept shaking his head, even when faced with your skepticism. “No, because leading on means I meant to deceive you.”

“And you did deceive me,” your voice lost strength, but he kept shaking his head.

“No, I withheld information that wasn’t relevant for the time being because you kept insisting you would fucking leave, and I needed you to—” He stopped, staring at you with equally glistening eyes. Why didn’t it feel like he was saying it right? “I thought that if you felt it, you wouldn’t leave. That you’d be willing to wait for me.”

His eyes watered, but he wanted to say it, even if it sounded like he was weak.

“For me, it was real,” he rushed to add, looking at you. “Every second of us together is real, and it’s all I want. I’m a free man now.”

Your features were still hard, “You still didn’t tell me—”

“Well, I’m sorry!” He threw his hands up, unable to handle the hurt, “You would have never let me near you, but I guess I should have told you!”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” You shouted back, stepping towards him. “Because if we’re meant to be, do you think that would matter? Do you think a stupid contract that doesn’t represent anyone’s wants would matter?!” He gaped at you, with wide, red eyes locked with yours. “It’s the principle, Jungkook,” you sounded defeated now, regretting shouting. “I mean, we already met in person for the first time when I was taken against my will! I was tied to a fucking chair!”

Your voice wavered as your eyes watered; was he even listening to you?!

He instantly raised his hands to touch your shoulders, but you continued, “This doesn’t work unless there’s trust and honesty, so what the fuck happens now?”

“I apologize, that’s all I can do,” he said, though his anxiety was beaming out of him in waves. “It should have never happened like this. I should have gone to Busan or— If you just had come that day to Seoul like you planned, or— Fuck, there were so many ways to find you, and it still happened in the worst way.”

You pursed your lips, looking at his chest, staying quiet, and he could swear he was seeing his life crumbling down.

“But most of all, you’re right. I should have told you the truth instantly. Even if you left and decided it wasn’t worth it, that would be your decision, which I’d have to respect.”

You finally looked up at him, and the spark in his heart sizzled and died out with the hurt.

“But I fucked it up. I know. You probably can’t trust me; I get it.” He closed his eyes for a second, swallowed, and faced you again. His fated love with such disappointment in your eyes. “I can only explain my thought process, as selfish as it was, and promise you I had no malice. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry. It would never happen again, ever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” his eyes filled with tears, then he shook his head. “But I understand if you don’t want that.”

Your lips twitched, ready to speak your mind, but a sound behind you made you both frown and turn to look.

Someone was trying to type in the code, and the beep indicated an error. Jungkook’s features twisted in fury when a second beep sounded, and he circled you, storming across the room to open the door.

He was so furious the door almost flew out of its hinges when he opened it. He just knew he’d find Sunhwa on the other side, and although she tried looking small, he was enraged, “How dare you try to barge in here again?!”

His roar was powerful, so it was no wonder she shook before him. You tried calling him but to no avail, even as you stepped closer to try to calm him.

“Fucking speak your business before I destroy your life!”

“Please,” Sunhwa started, such a moving plea you pursed your lips from the entry of the living room. “You have to help me. Please, Jungkook!” He let go of the door, and you thought he might actually do something, but he only turned and stepped away toward you. You could see the anger distorting his features, and knew he hated hearing his name on her mouth. “The Families’ decree just passed not even an hour ago, and it’s lethal,” she continued, daring to take one step past the door threshold. “Already, I’ve become a pariah, and my family’s worth is plummeting. Please, I— It was my brother’s idea, I had nothing to do with it!”

“You really think that will work?!” He roared, turning back with such a glare, Sunhwa started shaking on the spot. “The badmouthing, the stalking, the scenes; you really think anyone would believe you? And even if it’s true, you knew about it! You knew what he had planned, and you pretended you didn't! You’re fucking lucky it was only a few penalties! If it was up to me, your whole family would have been kicked out of the country!”

“Jungkook!”

Her call was disheartening, and you stepped in, getting closer to him. He still shouted back, “Don’t fucking say my name! I never gave you permission to; you and I don’t have that kind of relationship!”

You tried drawing his attention without getting in the way when Sunhwa’s tears ran down her cheeks, “But I— I love you, I’ve been in love with you for years—”

Her sobs along with her distress really bothered you, but they were empty to Jungkook, “What the hell are you saying? You work for me, and we had a contract. How the hell did you—”

You finally stepped in, grabbing his hand so he’d look at you, and shook your head, “There’s no point. No point,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “Let it go.”

You could see his anger simmer down behind his dark eyes, and it relieved you. He had every right to be angry and to feel betrayed by someone he worked closely with. But there was no gain in hurting her, especially since she was already down. He didn’t have to get even more upset, he could be the bigger person and just let it go.

He finally tore his eyes off you to address her calmly, “There’s nothing else to say. Don’t show your face to me ever again. Leave.”

You looked at her too, and saw the moment it dawned on her who you were. Jungkook wasn’t bottling his anger down, he truly listened to you and decided she wasn’t worth it. You could see the hurt in her eyes, but also the thin line of her lips as she turned around and left. She accepted it, you were pretty certain, that you were an omega, and she had been fighting fate.

The door closed softly behind her, and he turned to you. Perhaps he didn’t expect your hug, but you held him to you strongly. That day was overwhelming to you, but it surely was to him as well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t over yet.

He held onto you so strongly, and when you pulled away to face him, you could read the anguish in his face.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not done yet.”

He nodded sadly, and you reached to brush his cheek.

“Hear me out. I came here to talk to you, didn’t I?” He blinked, his sadness disappearing as he looked at you, confused. “I feel it too, Jungkook. Everything you’ve said, I feel it, too. But I just can’t let it go without talking about it. I want to be with you, but I don’t want a life in which I can’t trust my partner, mate or not. Do you understand?”

“I do,” he nodded frantically, pressing his hands around your waist. “I do, and you can trust me. I will never hide anything from you, you’ll have my full heart.”

Your lips twitched into a small smile, “I want to try… Though, are you sure? I have a propensity for trouble, I’m definitely a perfectionist at work, and all your whites will have to go,” you scrunched up your nose playfully, tousling his hair for good measure.

He smirked, closing his watering eyes because of the hair falling over his eyes, “I’d love to, I can sacrifice the whites if the beer can stay.”

“I’ll have to taste it first,” you chuckled, then brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Should I stay for a bit then?”

“As long as you want to,” he whispered, with eyes fixed on your lips.

“Good,” you whispered back, then you grinned because all he did was stare. “You can if you want to, you know?” His doe eyes raised to yours, and you chuckled, “So many times, I thought you’d just kiss me on impulse, and now that I say you can, you don’t?”

He laughed, “Is it because you expect it? It didn’t feel right in those moments. When I lost myself, I… I’m happy I didn’t kiss you then. You were hurt, and it would just make everything harder.”

You nodded with a smile, “My thoughts exactly.”

“Now, I just…” He looked down again, “I want to, but I know what will happen next and…”

“What will happen next?” You pressed teasingly when he didn’t finish, and he pursed his lips.

“I’ll likely give in.”

“Ohhh…” You hummed, “And what does that mean?”

He huffed, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Thought you wanted to show me,” you whispered, looking at his lips. “Make me yours.” His tongue wetted his lips. “Give me everything I ever wanted,” you nuzzled him. “Make me feel good—”

He closed the distance between you like a lightning bolt, supporting your jawline. He held nothing back, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to consume you and show you everything you were asking. It didn’t take long for your hands to grab his hair, your tongue licking and fighting his while he squeezed you to him and kept your mouth right there for the taking.

You thought his passionate kiss was the best thing you ever tasted, but you recognized it wasn’t just that. There was electricity sparking between you with every hard breath and daring touch, to the point you acknowledged nothing had ever felt as intense. You were like two clashing celestial bodies heating up to fuse into something better, and the more he touched you and you breathed him in, the more you wanted to merge completely.

His lips traced down to your neck, giving you a moment to suck in breaths brimming with his lustful spicy scent, and you shuddered. You gripped his hair and let out a sigh as you breathed hard near his ear, “Fuck—” His tongue down your neck stole your thoughts and made you sink your nails into his scalp. “Can’t really fight it, can I—”

His protest came in the form of his lips, shutting you up for a moment before he attempted to kiss your neck instead.

“You know, I wanted to go back to Busan,” you said in something that resembled a whine. “Even if just to see if you'd come after me and claim me.”

You gripped his hair to whisper the last words into his ear, and he growled, biting down your neck, making you squeak and start shaking.

But he withdrew, licking the spot, and you chuckled; he could be such a tease, too.

“But I changed my mind,” you continued, seemingly ignoring the way he was suckling, or his hands were exploring your curves, from your shoulders to your ass. It melted you, and you were certain he knew it. “I can’t wait.”

He squeezed you to him, letting you feel his excitement through both your thin slacks, and you chuckled.

“I’m lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“That you can’t think about anything else,” you whispered, and he finally snapped his head back to face you, grabbing your head in place by the hair at the back of your head. “I can only imagine how much fun it would be if you could bring yourself to punish me for teasing you so much… maybe after you make me yours.”

He was so close to you, you intentionally made your tongue brush his lips as you talked. His grip tightened, “Do you hear what you're saying? Do you realize— How am I supposed to hold back?”

“You’re not,” you grinned, wishing with everything you had he’d take you. “I don’t want you to.”

He finally let his mouth crash to yours again, sweeping you with a new wave of raw need. His mouth was demanding, ravishing, melting you in every instance until you were nothing but a puddle wanting to be his.

To the point that when he pulled back again, you whimpered, “Take me. Come on,” your grip on his hair kept him in place. “Take me. I want you, please.”

His lips almost touched yours, but he screwed his eyes shut for a moment before facing you again, “If you let me claim you, I'll never let you leave.”

It sounded like a desperate confession, yet you just whispered, “No?”

“No, I won't let you leave my bed.”

You smirked, “That’s fine, I can work from bed.”

“No work,” he pressed himself to you, pushing you into the entryway wall, and the shivers up and down your spine made you smile again.

“Then no big American consortium agreement.”

“I don't care,” his lips latched to your jawline, and nothing could stop your euphoric glee.

You laughed, “How will you even keep me in bed? Let me guess,” you chuckled. “Does it involve some zip ties?”

He pulled back with eyebrows knitted with befuddlement, “You— You’re crazy!”

You chuckled and used your foot on the wall to gain leverage, pushing yourself against him so that after a twist, it was you pushing him against the wall.

“I am crazy,” you nuzzled him, a second away from jumping into this. “Are you sure you want this?”

His lips fell on yours, moving against yours desperately before you withdrew for an answer, “I wanted your crazy from the moment I first saw you in that video call.” His gaze was red and glinted, fully inebriated on you, “I could have wiped the floor of my drool.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Well, aren’t you in luck.”

You would have liked to tease him more, but his patience was wearing thin. His hand pressed the back of your nape, forcing you to fall into him as he switched places and pushed you to the wall again, and you sighed. You kissed him just as hard as he did, flush to his chest while you pulled his shirt up to try to finally touch him, but he beat you to it, and you had to close your eyes and bite your lip.

Your blouse cleavage offered no resistance when he decided to rip it so his mouth could trail down between your breasts. It covered you with goosebumps, and you weren’t certain if it was the sound, the force, or his plum lips with a curious tongue along with it, but it didn’t matter. You grabbed his hair, trying to breathlessly keep up with the way his tongue traced intricate patterns on your breast, just above the edge of your bra cup neckline as his hands squeezed your ass to him, so you’d have no way to outrun every shudder.

“What are you—”

You were breathless when he started fumbling with your bra, and squealed when he pulled it so hard the apex hooks broke off. He bit on your soft flesh, nuzzling his way closer until he freed one hand to pull the torn bra away, letting it fall to the floor. You didn’t have a mind to complain because in a second he was pressing his face between your breasts and squeezing them to his cheeks. You bit your lip, unwilling to admit how hot it was that your alpha wanted to breathe you in, but then he started licking and you lost sight of reality.

His thumbs pressed, squeezed, and pinched both your nipples and your supple flesh as his tongue and teeth ravished from one side to the other in a seemingly endless and frantic dance. Whenever you thought he’d give you a breather, he pinched harder, and when you thought he’d move and kiss you again, he jumped to the other nipple, taking you by surprise. You couldn’t tell up from down, your hazy mind overwhelmed and barely getting enough oxygen, but then he made it worse.

He kept your breasts squeezed tightly in his hands while kissing down your stomach, nipping the flesh softly until he reached your slacks. You were pinned in place, holding his hands to your chest while he rubbed his nose down on the fabric over your mound, but then he took a deep breath.

You groaned in desperation, melting straight onto your panties, close to his sensitive nose and mouth. His response was a deep growl and a stronger press of his mouth to your core, which drove you wild. You squirmed and writhed, unable to stop how much you wanted to feel him, even with his hands holding your chest firmly right above your racing heart.

But in a second, they were gone, stripped from under your hands, and you whimpered. You looked down with a pout, about to complain, but it all happened too fast.

He pulled the slacks and underwear down your legs, roughly grabbing your shoes and throwing them aside, and before you could think, he pressed his face the same as before, only this time there was no barrier to protect you.

You squealed and squirmed again, instantly needing to grab onto something as your jaw fell open. Your hand landed on his hair, and your head fell back to the wall, completely lost and overwhelmed. His mouth was in a fury, latched to your folds as he rubbed his face to your core, only stopping to lick every drop of slick you released. You couldn’t help it; everything he did, from the way he breathed to the way he grabbed you, absolutely liquified you until you were sure there was no stopping it.

Worse, his head pushing up pressed on your core hard, making your feet lose traction. You couldn’t stop moaning; even opening your eyes involved too much thinking, but your free hand darted to the side for support.

It slammed into a vase on the foyer table. The shatter on the floor didn’t phase either of you; if anything, his hands gripped your hips rougher, and you squeaked when he sucked your clit a bit harder.

He seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be because as you tried your best to stay afloat, breathing but not drifting away, he kept drinking, suckling, and groaning into your cunt. And in your haze, you forced your eyes open and pouted. It wasn’t like you wanted him to stop, but you wanted to learn all about him, too.

“Jungkook,” you called under your breath, trying your best to stop moaning, but you closed your eyes. Fuck, he made it hard. “Jungkook, stop.”

He instantly pulled away, looking up at you with dark, thundering eyes, but you smirked. His mouth and chin were red and shiny; he was a whole damn view.

“I need to lay down,” you breathed, reaching your hands to him, and he instantly got up and grabbed them, kissed them, and then you.

It was just a peck; it made you pout, but his pulling you in the direction of the couch kept you quiet.

He motioned for you to sit down and went to kneel in front of you, but you pulled on his hand to stop him and said, "Lay down."

“I thought you said—”

“Lay down,” you simply repeated, pulling the leftovers of your blouse from your shoulders.

It seemed to hit him then that you were fully naked in front of him, and he probably needed to sit down, judging by the way he eyed you from head to toe. It put a mischievous smile on your face, only you didn’t forget that he was fully clothed, and that simply wasn’t fair.

You kneeled next to him and reached for the first button on his shirt, starting what you guessed was a gruesome process, if only judging by the way he groaned.

“Let me just—”

“No,” you stopped him from pulling the shirt over his head and kept going.

You could tell how the imposed reprieve drove him crazy. His fingers were impatiently touching your sides while his eyes kept jumping between your heaving chest, your slicked core, and your playful smile.

“I don’t need to be naked to eat you out,” he finally said, and you chuckled. That was how long it took for him to gather a coherent thought.

“That’s true, but it’s not fair, is it?”

Your tone was sweet as you leaned to pull the shirt over his shoulders, and he swallowed, overwhelmed. “I guess not. But you told me to lay down.”

He was thinking out loud while you hummed, moving onto his slacks.

“I don’t want to lay down,” he argued with knitted eyebrows, and you chuckled as you pulled his boxers and pants down, pulling off his shoes so he’d be naked, same as you. “Let me keep going.”

You sat back on the couch with your heart in your throat, momentarily so hot and speechless your tongue became slack. Jungkook was absolutely stunning, the embodiment of a god from head to toe. You knew his shoulders were wide and safe, his arms powerful, and his hands reliable, but now his firm chest and chiseled abs gave a new definition to the word hot. Your mate was just as handsome as he was mouthwatering, and his only sin was not entering your life sooner.

“What a dream…” You spoke so quietly you doubted he heard you. You were entranced, so perhaps your actions showed better than your words.

You got on his lap, finally dropping your eyes to the appetizing shaft aiming right at you. Your hand wrapped around him firmly before you could even think; after all, there was nothing like touching to truly know, and oh boy. He groaned and let his head drop, and it made your guts burn with want. Your hand had a will of its own as you jerked him, playing with the intensity of your grip. He eyed you when it became too soft, and the absolutely fucked out look on his face made you want him a thousand times more, and you squeezed harder.

He groaned again, knitting his eyebrows in such a way you knew you had him.

But you stopped and pushed him by the shoulders to get him to lay back, making him open his eyes and look at you with a question in his eyes.

“You told me to let you,” you told him, unaware of the way your glistening eyes and dark long hair framed you like a goddess in his eyes.

So he mumbled something and fell back, unable to displease you in any way. Fortunately, you had his interest in mind because you shifted on top of him with your hands near his hips and your knees on each side of his head, and he sighed. The view of your wet cunt was an oasis, so when you dropped to his mouth, he latched on.

You arched your back instantly, barely keeping yourself in check. Fuck, was the way he licked you maddening, but you had other priorities. You kept your ass up but lowered your chest to his stomach, finally drawing near to your prize. Your tongue peeked instantly between your lips, but you held back, taking the view of his excitement for the treat it was. Until he groaned between your legs, a translucid drop of precome escaping his slit, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

You lounged forward to take his cock into your mouth, and his desperate groan ran a shudder down your spine. You didn’t know if it was because you had moved away from his mouth or because of the way you took him, but the latter was most likely.

Because his hands gripped your ass to pull you back on him, but not before he grunted a Fuck— like he’d bust his nut right then and there.

It made you even more hungry, and his taste didn’t help. It matched his strong, perfect self to a T; it razed your mind and changed your brain chemistry. You knew he’d claim you very soon, but even if he didn’t, nothing would ever taste the same, and you wanted it.

Your thoughts were clouded as you took him more and more, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat like it was nothing. The hunger was dizzying, the flavors invading your mouth addictive, and you wanted more and more and—

Your world was overturned so quickly it became a blur. Suddenly, you were pushed against the back of the couch and forced to let go of the candy in your mouth, only to fall on your back between the cushions and have your legs spread as a heavy body fell between them.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He was nearly growling near your face, pinning your hands to each side of your head, and you grinned, “What?”

“What?” He was in disbelief at the way you kept smiling so gleefully, “You want me to burst too soon?”

You let your head fall back to giggle euphorically, but then you bit your lip and tried sobering up, “We have the whole night.”

“No, not to claim you, I don’t,” his reply was instant. “No way I’m waiting, not even one night.”

Your lip was still seductively between your teeth, “You could, though… We could have fun in other ways… You could just make me feel good while you recover.”

Your smile was almost endearing; a proposition covered in honey, but he wouldn’t fall for it. He raised his hips and brought them close so that his cock aligned with your slit and slid, rubbing your clit.

You moaned with a flutter of your eyelashes, blushing and trembling so sweetly just for him, and he smiled, “Don't you have everything figured out? Aren't you a fucking tease?”

“What do you mea—”

Your laugh died in your throat when he pushed in, invading your warmth, unable to control the way he stretched you to accommodate his size. His groan was deep and vanished as he raised his head, showing you the veins on his neck, and you whimpered even harder. Your jaw slacked as he pushed to tuck himself in fully, and your whole body burned with the fit.

You had to suck for breaths, feeling so hot that sweat was inevitable. You closed your legs behind him, pushing him into you, and he groaned, finally looking down at you like you were his whole world.

He meant to come closer to you, but you placed your hands on his shoulders to stop him, glancing down between your bodies as your legs guided his hips. It was mind-blowing, almost unbelievable, but it was right there — his thick, hard cock disappearing inside you, pushing moans out of you, coming out covered in your slick just to push into you again. It was so delicious you melted into the couch, wrapping your hands around his neck to bring him to your lips. He was incredible, unbelievable, beyond your wildest dreams, and only getting better as he quickened his thrusts.

They weren’t remotely fast, but the sensory overload was almost a reality. You weren’t just burning for him; you were combusting for you both — establishing a bond that couldn’t be forged with anyone else. Your logical mind would have stopped to analyze what you were doing, weighing the pros and cons, but there was no rationale behind how you felt about him. Only raw instinct telling you and making you sure with every fiber of your being that it was right. You belonged in his arms, in that moment with him, and you were ready.

But his hips started slowing down, and your brow furrowed, confused but also hurt. You were ready, and he was stopping — were you in dissonance?

But a kiss on your lips, along with a sigh, made you realize that was not what was going on. He nuzzled you, with soft eyes on yours as he let your foreheads touch, and you knew it wasn’t that. He was ready, too.

“Hold on,” he rasped, placing his hands between your ass cheeks and the couch, and you wrapped your arms around his neck firmly.

He pulled you up with a grunt, holding you to him as he stood, still inside you while your legs closed around him. You clenched in your effort, making him grunt a second time, which put a smile on your lips as you bit his earlobe.

Despite your torture, he was resilient; he still turned and left the room, going up the stairs. It was hard, though, and he was weak. Your touches, kisses, nibbling his earlobe, and clenching around his cock were dizzying. He thought he’d make it to the first floor, but he succumbed over the last few steps. Your ass landed on the last step softly while he stumbled to his knees, and it was uncontrollable.

Your legs pulled him to you while your arms held him; your eyes and expression showed how much you yearned for him, which were his kryptonite. He couldn’t help but eagerly get on his knees and bury himself inside you again, letting your heat clench around him like a vice.

It was maddening, and the way your scent called to him was only the cherry on top of an otherworldly desert. Nothing had ever felt like you did; his nerves were on fire with every thrust, only to have him obsessing over sinking into you again and again.

You had fallen down the same spiral because you kept moaning and scratching his shoulders to keep him close, helping by pushing against his ass so he’d fuck you deep. He knew you’d drive him crazy, but fuck. He was about to claim you on top of the stairs.

“Wait wait wait,” he mumbled, hoping you’d help him fight himself.

You did, stopping the sway of your legs and kissing the sweaty side of his face endearingly to let him breathe. He did breathe, but his heart was melting — you were perfect and just for him. He couldn’t wait any longer.

With one final effort, he held you back up and carried you to his bed. He was able to lay you down gently, but that was the last of his ability. His lips pressed to yours, and in seconds, his hunger flared, devastatingly, completely overwhelming you.

Your chin had permanently dropped as he grunted to your cheek in tune with your moans. Everything shook: the bed, your limbs, your soul. The heat pooling between your legs as he fucked you wild, without an ounce of control, helped him slide even better and bottom out every time. The way he touched every sweet spot, flooding every sense with his groans, his scent and salty taste brought you pleasurable dimensions you didn’t even know existed. All you knew was that it was raw and crazy and everything you ever wanted.

He pulled away enough to face you, “Are you sure?”

You almost wanted to cry; how could he even think right now?

But in your heart, that was the last piece of the puzzle. You smiled with tears in your eyes, “Yes.”

You had barely noticed his pounding slowing, but you surely noticed when the rhythm became maddening again. Your moans pitched unbelievably as you sank your nails into his shoulders, begging him with your eyes. You needed him to come with you.

He waited a second longer, then crashed to your neck, and reality spun. The pressure inside your walls from his knot would have made you squeal, but it was his bite that made you scream. And as if that wasn’t overwhelming enough, your orgasms snapped and mixed, allowing you to squeeze him between your walls as the pleasure devastated you, making sure to milk every drop of his climax.

His cock kept twitching inside you, even after he had stopped grunting into your neck, and it made you sensitive. Still, you loved his weight on top of you and his licks over your mark. You brushed your fingers over his powerful arms and shoulders, sighing with contentment as he took care of you. Inside you, as your heart calmed down, something strong and unbreakable embraced it protectively. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes, holding back the tears — you were part of each other now. Fated to meet, fated to love; you were connected now.

“Did I hurt you?”

His voice was a warm whisper to your ear, and you shook your head, “No.”

He held you for as long as you kept your arms firm around him. Then, he pulled back to face you, your red cheeks, wild long hair, and glistening eyes. He sighed, “Is this how it will always be?”

You hummed and blinked up at him lazily.

“Are you always going to be such a fucking tease?”

Your eyebrows jumped in surprise, but then you started laughing. Finally, you bit your lip to hide a smirk, “I hope so.”

203 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 9 months ago

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How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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

Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

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tojisun · 1 year ago

Note

dbf!simon is very much dear john by taylor swift coded

my goodness?? no yea absolutely!! im??? WHAT???? i cant move on, this hurts terribly

toxic!dbf!biker!simon was sent to me so i can hurt all of us and yk what? im actually sorry for this one because dear gods simon is mean

!! made simon unlikeable (ooc, even) and im really sorry for that; suggestive; age gap; power imbalance // biker!simon mlist // prev - 01, 02

simon’s late.

of course he is. when was he ever on time? when has he ever prioritized you above all else?

he said he’d pick you up at six and promised that he’d bring you the helmet that’s only ever reserved for you. it’s a pretty pink one with a little skull painted on the right top of the shell, personally customized by simon.

“reminds me of you, sweet girl,” he whispered the first time he presented it to you, grinning as though he’s the only man who’s made you feel special; as though he knows he is.

he promised to bring his bike because he said it’s faster; because he said he’s got somewhere to bring you. some place, probably in the outskirts of the city, where he can spoil you. because that’s all you are to him anyway: a secret. a fling. someone who he knows he can always turn to.

and you should’ve known that simon’s promises are ephemeral. that all that they’re good for is to make your stomach swoop and your heart flutter, long enough that when the betrayal hits, it hits harder. you should’ve known that his promises are but cacophonies that get smothered in the wind because simon doesn’t follow through. he never has.

but you never learn, huh?

too busy being in love, too busy being starry eyed. too busy counting down the hours, minutes, seconds because for some reason, for some stupidly heartbreaking reason, you think he loves you back. you think that he even can.

you think that once simon comes, he’ll be all apologetic, begging for your forgiveness as he whimpers his i’m sorry’s and his i’ll do better’s on your forehead or on your cheeks or even on your lips. that he’ll cradle you in his arms like the precious jewel that you are, careful and tender, before helping you get on his bike.

but an hour has already passed and the next hour is just eleven minutes away from being completed, still, simon has yet to show up. your messages remained unseen and your calls continued to be unreturned.

you’ve bitten your lips raw, not enough to bleed but just enough that you feel the sting whenever you sigh. you’ve taken to walking around the lounge area of the library to stretch your legs out and to give your numb butt a break, occasionally bumbling towards the water dispenser to grab a quick drink, because you wished that all these little things can eat up time faster. you wished that if you just distracted yourself enough, then time will speed up and simon will finally come.

still-

“hello everyone, the library will be closing soon. i repeat, the library will be closing soon. please proceed to the checkout for those who want to bring home items, otherwise, thank you so much for coming in today! we open at 09:00 am tomorrow!”

oh.

you gather your things with a sigh, pretending that the back of your eyes aren’t stinging as tears begin to prick and pool. you ignore your trembling fingers as you swipe at your phone again, checking to see if simon’s called or messaged, only to feel the remaining pieces of your heart shatter at seeing nothing from him at all. you throw your phone back in your bag before zipping it close and slinging it on your back. you stomp out of the library, your breaths stuttering at the weight of your heartache.

you fall into a quiet autopilot as you get on the bus and trek back to the dorms. you remember that your mom had asked if you were going to come visit soon and you decide that perhaps what you need is a change of scenery for now so you dig for your phone just to tell her you’ll be home for the weekend, dutifully ignoring the desire to check if simon’s replied.

(it takes a heartbeat before you do check, thrums of morbid anticipation being chased away by the lack of notifications from him. this seals your need to flee back home.)

you mumble a hello to your roommate and to her girlfriend before locking yourself in your room to pack a duffel bag. you continue to pretend that you are not hyperaware of your phone as you stuff your bag with clothes, your laptop, and your books.

a knock brings you back to reality.

“hey lovie?” your roommate asks, her voice trembling from exhaustion.

“yeah?” you respond as you pad towards the door and open it for her. she smiles when she sees you. “what’s up?”

“someone’s downstairs, buzzing for you.”

“oh,” you say because you already know who it is.

“yeah,” she replies, standing up taller in sudden attentiveness, her previous sleepiness dispelled at hearing the dejected timbre of your voice. “you want me to chase him off?”

“no!”

you cringe at the ferocity of your reply, which makes her flinch, and you awkwardly clear your throat when the moment settles.

her girlfriend peeks around the corner to check on you two. “everythin’ alright?”

“yeah,” you say, coughing. “i, uh. i got it, thanks.”

you wave off their concern as you snag your keys from the counter and slide into your shoes before taking the elevator back down. you worried your bottom lip again, your brows furrowed as reality rushed back into you—simon’s come to your dorm. simon’s come to you.

you play with your fingers as you step out of the building, your lungs constricting at seeing simon parked just a few feet away. his helmeted head is turned towards the entrance of your building, and even though he’s got his face hidden by the visor, you know simon’s seen you.

still, he doesn’t stand.

he doesn’t make any effort to come to you. so you stay there by the building, blinking your eyes at him, waiting for simon to come close. for simon to be the one to take that first step into apologizing—because why else would he be here if not for that? if not for a pitiful and pathetic apology which you will digest as you are starved of any inkling of affection from simon?

but simon continues to remain still and even if you are desperate for everything he has to give, a bigger part of you knows this is too much. so you turn, sniffling as tears trickle from the corners of your eyes, and move to walk back into your dorm building.

“love, wait!” simon calls, but you remain facing the building even as your ears pick up the sound of scuffed boots against gravel, speeding towards you.

you whimper when simon’s hand closes around your wrist, tugging so that you are facing him again. his helmet’s still on but the visor’s pushed up and you bite a whine when your eyes meet his stormy ones.

“i said ‘wait,’ sweetheart,” simon murmurs, his hold tightening before he tugs you ever so closer to him. close enough that you see the lines on his face and the lone scar that runs from the side of his temple before disappearing into the tresses of his hair. close enough that you smell a faint vanilla sticking to his leather jacket. close enough that you see a littering of faint hickeys on his exposed neck.

“fuck you.”

simon’s head rears, not expecting the vitriol from your voice. he barks out a laugh.

“where’d my sweet girl go?”

“i’m not your fucking sweet girl!” you snarl, shaking his hold off of you. “i’m not your fucking anything!”

simon sighs like you are being difficult on purpose. like you are the one at fault. like you are the one who made him wait for two hours as he hanged onto the promise that you whispered to him nights ago. like you are the one who didn’t show up and forced him to find his way back home even amidst his heartache. like you are the one who chose to fuck someone even when you knew he was waiting for you.

because simon knew. he wouldn’t be here in front of you if he didn’t.

and isn’t it almost laughable how you thought he was going to apologize?

“love, is this about-”

“just leave, mr. riley,” you breathe out, the fire of anger that burned within you was extinguished into quiet sputters of your agony. “i made it back anyway. you don’t have to be here anymore.”

simon huffs a humourless laugh, the sound almost resembling a growl instead. “oh, so i’m ‘mr. riley’ now?” he pulls you even closer. “what happened to calling me ‘simon’? or even ‘si’?”

he leans towards you, his helmet bumping your head. “what happened to calling me ‘daddy’?”

simon steps back far enough that your hand misses his head, a hit that would’ve been futile anyway given his helmet.

you choke on your sob, the sound ripping from the base of your throat and tumbling into the cool air. and even then, even amidst the display of your heartbreak, simon continues to just stare you down.

“fuck you,” you repeat, your voice a quiet rasp.

simon hums, his boots crunching against the gravel as he turns. then, he says, “call me when y’r ready to talk to me like a mature person, kid.”

you run back into your building, not bothering to respond to him or to watch him drive off. you barely make it into the elevator before you crumple to your knees, your head dizzy with the intensity of your misery, your heart shredded into pieces.

made myself tear up too yey!!! @prttyangelz u got me sobbing teehee <333

#suns.f #prttyangelz #dbf!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley #simon riley #suns #ask #PLEASE DONT GET MAD ST ME FOR THIS!! i just love dabbling into diff aus :((

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milkteahood · 5 months ago

Text

It’s been a minute lol. School has been keeping me very busy and very stressed lol.

Anyway, thought I’d share this absolute filth that’s been plaguing my mind.

As per usual, !!!minors do not interact!!!

Had this idea for pornstar!König x stalker!reader

You’re irrevocably obsessed with him, dumping a good chunk of your salary on every platform he’s part of.

It makes you happy he’s not very known yet. Almost as if he’s only yours.

But soon, just seeing him on the screen isn’t enough. Fucking yourself on the dildos you own is no longer satisfying. All your pathetic toys pale in comparison to the cock he’s constantly fisting.

It doesn’t take too long for you to find him. Especially not after he attached a zip code to his wishlist. You didn’t even think things through, just sneaked into his backyard one night and watched him through the window. He never showed his face on camera, so when you finally saw him, just walking around his kitchen, seemingly unaware about your presence, you almost moaned into your fist.

Unfortunately for you, being ex military leaves one with some sort of skills. After the first few nights, he realized you’re there. At first he thought you’re trying to rob him, but it’s been weeks and all you do is come look through his windows.

So one night, König finally decided enough is enough, and after you quietly sneaked back into his yard again, you found yourself in headlock, back pressed against this mountain of a man.

“Say Maus, what exactly is it you’re after?”

Oh how you almost moaned at that. And he caught on it, which only made him chuckle.

“Don’t tell me doll, are you here just for this?” he said in a mocking manner while pressing his bulge into your ass.

All you could do is frantically nod, pushing back for any sort of friction. You couldn’t even wrap your head around why you were doing this. Acting like a dog in heat. But oh, he’s even bigger up close, and he smells so so good. The whole situation making your mind go completely dizzy.

König on the other hand is very amused about the whole situation. Such a pretty little thing sneaking into his yard. But who is he to deny you, especially after all the lengths you went to. Oh, how the tables turned for you, no longer in control of the situation.

Safe to say König fucked you on every single surface of his house. By the end of it you couldn’t even think straight, being just a drooling mess beneath him. But the night’s still very young, and he needs to know exactly how you found him. And how knows, maybe he will reward you for being such a determined mess.

#könig headcanons #könig imagine #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig #könig smut #könig fanfiction #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #tw smut

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themareverine · 25 days ago

Text

WILD MAN

─ Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: Blizzards and pane glass windows—typical for a Thursday night at Laughlin City's favorite haunt. Until the Wolverine walks in, and hell hath no fury like a man ravaged by jealousy.

warnings: language, possessive behavior, angst, jealousy, implied sexual content, established relationship from my Mare & the Wolverine series.

a/n: i don't know what this is, really. went to write a different oneshot and it turned into this. guess my brain needed some jealous Logan. reposted from my deactivated account.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Inky midnights glare through the windows of Laughlin’s oldest haunt as the season’s thick, wet snow falls in an almost sideways blanket. The bar is flatlined, almost asystole. Heavy bass, thanks to Huey Lewis and the News, thunks from the stereo system like a jackhammer against her skull, trying to fill space that bodies aren’t.

Stale cigarettes and fried food in the air mingled with the highschool smell of sweat and testosterone, which may as well have been painted to the walls they were so familiar. Sticky floor, slick bartop, chipped tile in the bathroom—common ghosts for nearly eleven thirty on a Thursday night.

“Really comin’ down, ain’t it?”

It’s more the sudden spike of cold overflow from the tap that jars Mare McAffery from attempting to glance around her reflection from the pane glass window. Surprised, she startles, slapping at the tap’s toggle before her fingers curl around the chilled glass. Slick with foam as it sloshes over the rim carelessly to the mix of drinks that have already found their fate on the floor at her feet. It isn’t her night. The lack of business has her brain running, her thoughts anywhere but here on a Thursday night among the snow, cigarette smoke, and canisters of beer she needs to change in back.

She’d rather be home. Bundled in blankets, wool socks. Watching the kick of fireplace flames from the safe brace of Logan—just Logan. All of Logan. His arms, that absolutely breathtaking chest that ripples with life and hard muscle and heat. Feeling the rise and fall of his every breath, how the fresh wash of her hair tangoes with his heady scent of whiskey and cigar, wood and snow.

Feeling the warmth of his feet toying with hers under blankets as they stretch out towards flame, listening to the rich way he chuckles every time his nose brushes against the back of her ear. How his rough fingers pull through her cropped curls, teasingly carding as he dares to whisper about his day against the curve of her ear—-

She jumps when the edge of the bar comes up a little too quickly against her hip. Her heart shellshocks against her ribs like a violent engine. Feeling flushed, she bites the inside of her cheek. Lathes her tongue against the front of her bottom teeth. Praying to God the low light hides the color on her face seems fruitless, but it's there.

Reaching for a bar napkin, her smile is slow as she slides the beer in front of Laughlin’s foremost gossip, affectionately christened Flappin’ Jim by the town’s population. No less than four decades her senior, stringy silver hair peeks out from beneath a nearly-threadbare Carhartt beanie, stained with what could only be assumed was engine oil. Jim has owned the zip code’s only machine shop longer than she’s been alive.

She shrugs a shoulder when he mentions the snow a second time. “When isn’t it snowing up here?” The squared-off toe of her western boots scuff the floor cooler behind the bar as she reaches for Jim’s ever-requested cocktail straw, plopping it in the dark amber of his lager before his parted lips could continue, “I’ve seen my fair share of the white stuff—but never like this. You know how they say everything is bigger in Texas?” Jim chuckles, nodding as his tongue seeks out the straw, his gaze never leaving her, “Well, I swear to God, everything is colder and thicker in Laughlin.”

His laugh comes from his chest, phlegm from forty years of smoking Player’s. “Forget it’s your first snow with us, poor thing,” Jim waves a hand between the two of them, brows bobbing suggestively as his grin widens enough to reveal half-rotten mid-to-back teeth, “iffin’ you’re thinkin’ you need a ride home, darlin’, ol’ Jim’s got room for two on the old snowmobile—”

Her brain nearly melts at the absolute atrocity of a mental picture that statement provides. She could think of not a single thing worse than going to the door with Flappin’ Jim, much less riding an hour west on a snowmobile in little more than jean’s and a leather jacket. Laughlin’s poster child for bad decisions and alcoholism. Perfect.

Informing him of her lack of proper gear was the kind out. “Thanks for the offer, though, Jim,” her nose scrunches a little as she works at the try-a-hundred-times-a-day-but-still-nothing stain practically etched into the oak grains of the bartop, “Logan’s coming to get me, he knew the snow would be bad. Dropped me off this morning before work.” It’s nonchalant—surely women were dropped off and picked up by their boyfriend’s during bad snow in Laughlin.

Never mind working a double, Jim’s brows popped tall as if it were an entirely new concept straight out of a Stephen King skincrawler. “Wild Man’s comin’ all the way down the mountain in this shitstorm?”

His thumb goes over his shoulder, despite evidence of his claim hanging in the window to his three o’clock left. He whistles over his shoulder for his buddy, Kenneth, to listen up.

Kenneth’s head raises with interest, like a meerkat rising from his hole. “Lord’a mighty, Kenny boy—you was right, mus’ be better than’w thought!”

More vapid laughter has Jim, and now Kenneth, hacking up a lung from their respective seats.

Whatever population’s in the bar—eight souls —turns to look at her, snickering and the twist of their upturned lips all but nailing her to the back wall. Like looking from the outside in. May as well have all been pointing fingers at her—and, unsure whether her gaze should fall to Jim or past him to Kenneth, her raised brows opted to consider the older man sweeping his hat off his head.

Unwashed hair nearly glistening with what she can only assume is grease and oil, a thought that makes her stomach rise up to kiss the base of her ribs. His laughter turns raucous as his eyes skim over her, hazed.

Swallowing a splash of stomach acid, her brow furrows hard behind the bridge of her glasses.

“Pardon?”

Wringing the bar rag through her hands, Mare ultimately realizes how this makes her look. Tosses it aside. Stands a little taller, wants to look down her nose at Jim, but realizes she’s shorter than he is, perched on a stool. More wind howls, biting at the bricks, flecks of snow tick tick ticking against the pane glass windows outside in the dark. Working a double has never felt so dehumanizing—she could melt into the floor right now. Whether from the tired headache blooming behind her eyes or the full attention from the bar, she’s not sure.

A sharp smack! of Jim’s hand against the bartop makes her jump. “Oh come on, honeybunch,” the low accent matches every step that Kenneth, now, manages as he stumbles over to lean a plump hip against the bar. “E’ryone knows no mountain man like Logan Howlett comes off the mountain for just anythin’—‘less he’s gettin’ head,” Eyes skate her over her, visually-stimulated from top to bottom, ultimately parking at the cut of her tank top as he sloshes back the rest of his bottled MGM, “just how it works, sugartits.”

His eyes remain welded to her chest, but her jaw has long since lost its hinge. Any second now it would start creaking like a rusty gate, bone raking against bone. Opening and closing, like a fish choking on air. Slack and openmouthed, she blinks through the little flecks of dirt on the lens of her glasses, brain short circuiting to assimilate just how absolutely crude of a statement has just landed between her eyes like a stone to Goliath.

Words don’t find her for a full handful of minutes before Jim and Kenneth’s attention are drawn away. Onto other conversation, this time bear hunting stories and the back-and-forth of rifles. Throat burning, like the inferno sands of Moab. Every sticky string of saliva moisture in her mouth is tapped dry, she attempts to raise spit on her tongue, to swallow. Virginal heat chases up her neck like a predator, sinking teeth into her confidence. Fans across her decolletage and collarbones.

Queasy, embarrassment spins a weave down her spine and through her guts like a snake. Reminds her that wolves of the world so often hunt the lines of the innocent perimeters she’d fought hard to preserve—did everyone in town think she was sleeping with Logan? Like a broken record it spins, wobbling on the needle, screeching and clawing deep into the lines of her psyche.

Years as a preacher’s daughter had provided her a certain level of naivete, certainly—-never ignorance. Wasn’t dull to the world beyond innocence, outside the lines of the pure and spotless idea of Christ and His church. She knew the world was spiraling, hell and brimstone around every corner. All parlor tricks and open gates, brazen. Like a painted woman in scarlets and pearls—or a drunk on a barstool at quarter-too.

Mare hadn’t expected this level of forward. This, gall. Audacity. Snapping teeth of a big junkyard dog trying to look tough and scare her into shock—that’s what this was. Provocative, seeking a response. Gasoline on a snapping fire. Enough to make a harlot blush, and Jim knew it—it’s in the way he guzzles hops like his veins crave it, eyes following her even through the bottom of his glass.

He’d blurted what she’d suspected everyone in town to think, and for half of a breath, she wasn’t sure how to feel. Flushed and embarrassed, a given.

Defiance lands like an airliner in her blood. Surprising, but not wholly unwarranted. Jaw setting with force enough to shatter the world, the heel of her boot grinds into the sticky floor as she turns to busy herself with empties. Glass cries out as she stacks them in the crook of her arm, fingers grabbing for whatever she can manage to stalk back to the kitchen.

Her heart pistons between her ribs like it’s been dropped into an Indy car, eyes flitting to and fro behind the bar. Anger. There's lots and lots of anger.

For handfuls of seconds she scours for a response. Something smart, smarmy—will fly in the face of what everyone in this town had been thinking about her since her boots had hit the province.

What Jim has actually implied—it burns. Like hot coals. For months she’d been walking the flames of the rumors; innocent little preacher’s daughter from the States.

“Y’even know how to spell ‘fuck’, darlin’?”

Far too busy brushing her dirty hands on the back of her jeans, Mare doesn’t even hear the squeak of Jim’s barstool swivel, “Well, I’ll be damned—if it isn’t the man of the mountain. How goes it, Logan?”

More snickering, and she about-faces, all-soldier as relief hitches itself like a wagon team to one of her ribs.

Jim’s brows bounce over her direction, his look provocative enough to make her want to vomit right there on the floor.

Continuing his thought, he scoots his empty to her with his knuckles, “Come to fetch our pretty little Miss Minnesota here, eh, boy?” Another wet cough grates across her nerves like nails to blackboard, “Looks like you were right, babygirl—s’told us you’d be makin’ your way in, Logan. Didn’t quite believe ‘er, but wonders never cease I reckon.” His nose scrunches as she passes him another pint glass, “Was about to keep little girlie here all to m’self.”

The line of her jaw twitches with how tight she’s clenching her teeth together, and it takes herculean will not to shoot off at the mouth—a trait she’s less than proud of. Thanks, Dad.

And it’s laughable how Jim is so quick to assume age, Logan’s raised brow in response shows it. At nearly 200 years old, he’s beyond surprise. Maybe, nearly. Closer than any part of her would like to admit, though nobody would know it—he doesn’t look a day over thirty-five.

A little tick of contained smile at the corner of his mouth is enough to make her forget her name. His dark eyes, calculating and deep, hold her gaze a few heartbeats. Logan reads her like an open book, an interested investigator—always has. She breaks first. Looks away, wiping at the sweat bubbling up on her brow.

His sparkling, steady eyes flash with something she can’t identify before darting back to Jim. Logan’s hum of suspicion is warm. Low, too low. Medicinal honey, going straight to the center of her femininity like nothing could. Lord, if it didn’t set every bone in her body to gelatinous flame—she sucked in a breath that stabbed at the mesh of her lungs as he settled against the bar.

He leans against the corner of the bar like he owns it, and he may as well have—out of the way and almost bleeding into the shadows of invisibility, he rests an elbow to the worn wood. A hand reaches to brush the wet of the storm from the sheepswool of his coat. Kisses of snow melt from his beard, ebony hair almost as quickly as they’d entangled—she doesn’t miss the blush that cold has left on his nose.

“Is that right?” Leaning a bit heavier on his arm, his lips tip up in an amused little way that sets off fireworks in the depths of her womb, reminding her of organs long forgotten. “Good thing I’m a man of my word.” Toe-over-toe she slips to a stop across the bar from him, reaching for a half glass that’s almost too cold between her sweating palms.

Logan pivots to face her, eyeballing her with a cool smile. Her usually-bright greeting is quiet, “Please sit. You’re ordering a whiskey.” It’s a demand, not a request.

Anything to keep her hands busy, to keep her from noticing how Kenneth hasn’t stopped ogling her tits since he sat down next to Jim, deep in his drink and fully, entirely out of his mind.

“Just one?” Let no man say Logan Howlett isn’t keen. “Hi.” And just like that, he changes gears. Keeps her guessing, like always. Mysterious as the shadow, bright as the sun.

Elbow planted on the walnut bar, his brows bounce as his finger crooks. Come.

Resting her hands at either side of his glass, she leans across the wood slowly. Considering him through low lashes, her heart swells at the way his tongue fills the pocket of his lower lip, considering. Hungry, almost. Possessive.

He makes her forget Jim, and Kenneth, and anything resembling breathing in flatline seconds.

Logan’s eyes flick to her mouth, in a tantalizing, only–the-stuff-of-Hollywood way as her bottom lip curls in, a little sheepishly. Nose to nose, the bite of cigar smoke lingering about his beard is dizzying—a scent of fresh pine clings to his clothes. He smells of snow and man, just as he should.

“Hi.” Little more than a breath and he closes daylight between them, lips brushing hers in a soft and slow hello. Smiling into his kiss, she sinks back to her feet behind the bar. Fingers curl into the wood beneath her palms.

Changing gears, Mare reaches for a bag of clean bar rags and begins folding. “How was your day on the mountain?”

His finger traces the rim of his whiskey glass and he shrugs a shoulder. “Peachy,” he takes a drink. She keeps looking over to Jim and Kenneth, who haven't stopped looking, and takes notices.

Logan's glass finds the counter again but his hand doesn’t lift from it, content to linger in the droplets of sweat. Simple, cleancut. Like always.

Then, “What’s wrong.”

It isn’t a question—as her eyes cut up from her work to look at him, his are open and waiting. Seeking. Ever since she’d known him he was always watching, waiting; seeking something.

He’d said once that he’d been looking for her all his life—her innocence. Purity. And it was no different, right now. Just now, he hunted the demons creeping inside her head, sitting invisible on her shoulder instead of the crisp light she usually carried. Nothing about him belies the name he gave himself, the name he carries nestled beneath his shirt on adamantium dogtags and numbers.

The Wolverine—her Wolverine.

The sound of it, inward and out, snaps like a whip even months later. It suits him in such a way she’ll never fully describe, that poetry could never adjective. Thirty-two days of her calling Logan Howlett her own and it felt little more than a fairytale, her own Cinderella story lost to fantastical girlish dreams and giggles. A little over a month since he’d asked if she wanted to “go steady,” since she’d giggled at him like a child, “Nobody says that anymore, Lo,” and his “Wanna start?” had her—has her, to this very breath—unable to think straight.

She lies.

“Nothing.”

Too quick to be truthful, she turns to replace a bottle of Bulleit, its glass lightly clattering against its brethren on the mirrored shelf. Her eyes flutter closed and she releases an uneasy breath, disappointed in her response—Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Never had, since she’d known him.

A snippet of the night she’d met him races through her brain like a racehorse. “You should let me take a look.”

“I’m fine,” She’d been too quick—too defensive. Good lies always bare a little truth in between their teeth, but—she’d always been a bad liar. A sheep amongst wolves. Or, rather, wolverines.

“Bullshit. Needs stitches, we both know it—you’ve been workin’ the cage long enough to know the difference. Can’t let you go without a look.” His look had been unmovable, like the earth. Understanding of her plight, her hesitance for an almost-stranger to look her over. Gentile as she’d sank low on a barstool to accept a beer from him.

Gentlemanlike, walking her through the steps—careful with his hands. Hands that hold her world, hands that could cut through stone. Aware of her nerves, but unrelenting all the same.

His dark eyes narrow at her just so, his nose scrunching a little as he checks her reflection in the mirror. Much to her relief, Logan drops the subject. And she can see, in the reflection, he isn’t all too thrilled with dodging the question.

Knowing what topic of conversation would be on the ride up the mountain didn’t take rocket science, and she wilts inside knowing that honesty hadn’t been her first blush.

Two thunks on the bar have her checking her shoulder. Jim, signaling for another beer.

“‘Nother here, sugartits—make ‘er tall and strong, gotta get me home in one piece, y’know.” Jim’s smile is toothy, lopsided as he goes to the effort to lift his ass out of his seat. Passing by without so much as a nod, she swipes the glass from out in front of him.

And before Kenneth’s hand is at his shoulder, Jim’s palm smacks across her ass cheek. Hard enough that it thwacks! against the pockets of her jeans.

It catches her off guard. Nobody had ever so much as ogled her ass to her knowledge, much less actually touched it—the pint glass falls from her fingers. Hits the boards of the wooden floor, the thick glass shattering to big pieces, low before her feet as if she’s some goddess worth breaking over.

A little breathless, she stumbles over her square-toed boots. Fingers curl into the wood until her knuckles are white. At first there’s anger, then embarrassment that hits her like an overloaded tractor trailer. Fluster ruffles her feathers like a wet hen, and she considers the broken glass at her feet.

Audacity to laugh at the red bouncing to life on her cheeks has Jim roaring with laughter, unaware of what sin he’s just committed—her fingers are brushing the first big piece of jagged glass when she hears the swivel of a stool. The thunk of boots hitting the floor.

And before she can even begin to piece together what she suspects, she pops tall from behind the bar at the exact moment Jim’s laugh becomes a strangled wheeze.

Collar snugged up too tight against his throat, Jim gags for air, tongue poking between fat lips as spit collects in the corners of his mouth. Breathing steadily, the crest and fall of Logan’s chest is evidence that he is on the raw and bleeding edge of composure—if his dark glare could be considered composed.

Brow little more than a hard line, his gaze narrows in Jim’s face as he leans in, lips curling in an almost animalistic snarl.

“Logan,” Mare’s hiss is low, eyes skirting about the eight bodies that have almost backflipped up from their seats scattered about the bar, “Logan. Please—put ‘im down.” Murmurs have overtaken the air like quiet demons, they are no longer their own spectacle.

Jim manages what sounds like the-hell-d’ya-think-yer-doin’, which produces a low rumble from somewhere in the base of Logan’s chest. Dark eyes cut to her, sweeping over her frame as she discards the chunk of glass to the small sink to her right. Heart pounding unlike anything she’d ever felt in her chest, bludgeoning the soft flesh of her lungs, she sucks in a stale breath that does nothing to ease the fire that seems to throb beneath her skin—sweat has replaced any semblance of chill in the room. Oxygen may as well be a hope. Tank top sticking to the flesh between her shoulder blades, her tongue nervously darts over her front teeth, eyes to Logan’s ironclad grip at Jim’s shirt collar.

Logan doesn’t relent. Instead, she notices the cord of muscle in his arm tighten. Even beneath the shield of a coat, the mask of humanity —and she knows. His opposite hand lifts in Jim's face, and she's counting heartbeats before familiar adamantium splits skin wide open, bleeding with rage.

Adrenaline snaps into her blood like a whip, and she’s around the bar at his side in no more than a heartbeat or two. Hands at his arm. Fingers curling into the denim of his clothing. Met with hard muscle, he may as well have been cut from marble—an Adonis of power and strength unlike anything she’d ever seen.

The white’s of Jim’s eyes are all but tracking, brimming with terror as Logan snarls—actually snarls—down into his face. Possessive rage clouds any semblance of humanity left in his face—it’s all Wolverine.

The Wolverine. Her Wolverine. Out from the shadows, out from any corner anyone had ever shoved him in—out to fight. To kill. For her. All for her, all for them, all for this.

She can’t put a full finger on the power of this honor, this…privilege. And that’s what it is, really—loving him is privilege. Is honor, only imaginable and dreamstate for girls like her. Everyday girls with little to offer, with little hopes for the next day other than to survive, to pray.

But Logan, somehow, had seen her—had seen her enough to care and care deeply, to his bones, adamantium bones he wars every second of the day to mummify, contain.

Truth of the matter hits her like a stone between the eyes—it doesn’t matter how deeply Wolverine is buried within Logan’s sarcophagus of self control, his ability to walk the lines of his anger. Logan would kill for her, over nothing at all. It’s right here, right now, plain as the nose on her face—splayed out like prey, easy prey ready for the slaughter.

Logan would, could, destroy a man over a simple drunken act of flirtatiousness. If it meant her pleasure.

What a position of power, indeed.

And Mare isn’t certain if it's love or power—if it’s even human.

Humanity wins. Logan's grip on Jim’s collar releases. Jim scurries away foot-over-foot, gasping for air, her realizing this is honestly much less complicated than matters of love, power. Both are players, but never common denominators.

A wolverine, after all, doesn’t fit into just one category—he’s both predator and prey. To something larger, to something smaller.

This is just, very simply, Logan.

Fisting and unfisting his fingers, he studies his hand as if it is otherworldly and not a part of his anatomy. After a few beats, Logan turns to face her. Jim is across the bar, a few hands clapping his back to check on him—as if he isn’t the offense of the entire situation.

Pressing into Logan, she rests her cheek against his chest, arms circling him in a hard embrace. He presses her close, a hand on the back of her head, chin coming to rest in her mess of curls. Breathing in his deep sense, her blood begins to cool—earthquaking in the base of her spine begins to dissipate. Colors of the room come alive again, the air suddenly all too breathable.

Her head tips back to consider his face—unreadable, mostly, save for the glimmer of light in the corners of his eyes.

The corner of her mouth tips up into a small tick, a heat she can’t describe hanging low in the base of her ribs as his hands lift to hold her face, delicately. As if he couldn't destroy her with a breath, as if he hadn't almost just culled mostly innocent blood.

Calluses rough against her cheeks, she presses into his touch. Firms up her arms around his middle.

“And there he is,” there’s no malice in her voice, only awe. Care. “Had me worried there for a second, bub.” Smallest hint of a smile at the return use of his favorite jibe from her sends her heart pitching across her chest, as if it’ll take residence on the other side of her ribs.

The line of his jaw relaxes and she nuzzles her nose into the front of his flannel, “Now I get why Riz says ‘no boyfriends at work’—you’re a walking OSHA violation, Logan Howlett.” Unsure if Canada has anything remotely similar to OSHA, she forgets the idea entirely.

He knows, he always knows.

Sighing into his chest, he fills up her senses on a full, deep breath. “And as much as I should slap you upside your thick head for almost slicing one of my best customers into tiny pieces, I have to say—I like the overprotectiveness,” her fingers gently brush through his beard, head tipped to the side like a curious pup, “a bunch. Like it a lot, Howlett.”

His fingers in her hair tip her head back to look up at him, again. A low chortle has her blood flaming deep beneath her skin. “Yeah? Seemed a little nervous to me, bub,” he emphasizes the use of the name with a smile, spinning one of her curls around his finger. A gentle tug as her nose scrunches in amusement.

She giggles at the sensation of his fingers playing through her hair, “Flappin’ Jim had what was comin’ to him, that’s all.”

“Maybe.” And without thinking, “Nobody’s ever stuck up for me like that before, Logan.”

And there it is, out in the open.

Like the soft underbelly of the mud turtles she’d spotted all summer—-vulnerable. It hangs between them like a prayer. Lines on his face pull into a surprised wrinkle for all of a beat, then something enters his expression she’s never seen before—sorrow, maybe. Compassion, in the way his head cants to the side as he studies her looking at her boots. Just standing there, like a fortress. Unmoving, and resounding. Saying nothing and everything all at once.

Logan’s finger dips beneath her chin to tip her gaze up to his. “Don’t ask me how, but somehow I knew that,” his palm moves to caress her cheek, pad of his thumb gently skipping over the curve of her bottom lip. “You’re worth stickin’ up for, darlin’—I’m honored to be the first one to actually show it.” Two fingers dip into the front pocket of her jeans, shuffling her a few steps closer, until her chest brushes his.

“And let’s hope I’m the last."

Her heart swells to new heights yet unsurpassed by science, maybe even prose. “Who am I to deny the Wolverine?” Lifting on her toes, her nose brushes the seam of his mouth before her arms curl around his neck, his hands soft at the flare of her hips. “I’m yours if you’ll have me, Logan,” biting her lower lip, she fights the urge to smile—can’t, never could.

His kiss is hard. Fast, hungry—rough in the way God Himself intended for man. It’s everything the poets ever described a kiss to be, probably more. Infinitely more, mostly because it was her kiss. Hers, and hers alone. Right here, right now, even if the stars couldn’t see.

He’s a little breathless when they part. And God, if it doesn’t take her apart.

“Y’know, Logan—Jim was right about one thing, before he ran his fat mouth off.”

He chuckles. “Hm?”

“You really kinda are a wild man.”

#hugh jackman #wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine x oc #x men #xmen logan #xmen wolverine #xmen #mare writes #james logan howlett #james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #logan xmen

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coquettetoji · 1 year ago

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{💌} ARMIN ARLERT MOODBOARD

★ general armin hcs ★

— sweetest soul who is 100% down to earth, will scold you for not recycling your fork into the correct trash can and will pick up plastic / any trash on the ground

— nerdy golden retriever boy, and is the biggest people pleaser

— played hockey growing up and in college, he’s a right winger

— reads a shit ton of books, will press pretty and colorful flowers he finds outside into the book spine to save it

— is academically and naturally smart, gpa is a strong 4.2, majors in business, economics, or biology, some smart shit like that ( will grow up to be that hot rich dad every single mom wants )

— SLEEPER BUILD 🗣️🗣️AND A V LINE🗣️🗣️

— hands are big but they’re like bony and soft, he also plays piano so he’s good with his hands *moan*

— his most used app is spotify, google classroom, and messages

— lana del rey coded. i will argue with anyone who thinks otherwise.

— listens to cigarettes after sex, clairo, and this one random 63 hour playlist called ‘band cafe soft jazz music’

— speaking of cigarettes, armin also smokes cigarettes (ik i’m sorry) but this guy is a student athlete, ofc he’s gonna have to de-stress somehow

— drives the newest model of a white range rover with beige interior

— 6’1 teddy bear with attachment issues

— speaks french fluently

— so so so soft spoken like you will never see him yelling at another person, even when he’s frustrated

— also doesn’t like cursing, will give someone a quick glance if they cuss but won’t mind it

— has a gold chain around his neck, yes the slutty kind

— came from old money 🤭🤑, he dresses like it too i’m talking quarter zips, sweaters, khakis, and neutral colors, wears his gold thin wire framed glasses occasionally

— knows all girl shit bc of his little sister (who he adores) he learned how to take care of her so he’s really reliable when it comes to treating girls right

— his phone case is the apple silicone one that’s cream color, keeps one of his credit cards in the case behind his phone

— phone screen is him and his puppy ( spot the difference game for everyone 👍 )

— every woman he knows or did a favor for all say “his mother raised him right”

— the most organized person ever, his whole pantry would labeled and organized like khloe kardashian’s

— eren and armin are 100% that black cat golden retriever duo, take a wild guess on who is which lol

— 2 deep dimples on his cheeks that pop out when he smiles, also has light freckles dusted on his nose n around it, has the straightest whitest teeth + an adorable smile **he’s so grateful for braces existing

— overall the most genuine human out there, no detection of fuck boy here 😁😁😁

{💌} new message from mica

armin is actually my baby i love him so much i need me a soft spoken tall nerdy blonde white boy in my life now

#armin x reader #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x y/n #armin fluff #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #aot moodboard #armin headcanons #aot smau #aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #armin x you #attack on titan x reader

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mommycitas · 6 months ago

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Teach me

summary; Your gym teacher is assigned to teach your class sex ed, you were left a little "confused" so you stayed after to ask some questions.

pairing; Teacher!Negan x Student!Reader

Pronouns/Name; She/Her , Y/N

AN; I wanted to do a song fic but I couldn't find a freaking song so here is porn w NO PLOT U NASTY FREAKS >:(((, jk love y'all pls enjoy <33 CXX First time I've written smut btw!! Hope its good XDD Also!! In the story it is mentioned that "ever since he saw you" I just want to clarify y/n was 18 at the time and there is no illegal business here!! CXX

Warning; Age gaps, 18 yo reader, Negan is 40ish. Sex, p in v, unprotected sex, oral m receiving, fingering, orgasm denial. NOT PROOF READ!!

Word count; 1.3k

!! MINORS DISCOURAGED !!

As your alarm goes off, shrug up in bed and turn it off. Getting up you checked the date and realized it was the sex ed day for your senior gym class. Cringing to yourself, as if any senior doesn't know what sex is. But suddenly you remembered who was teaching sex ed, internally grinning to yourself you threw on the shortest shorts you owned and a tank top that rested right above your belly button, displaying your navel piercing. With a zip up jacket so you don't get dress coded, you grabbed your bag and headed to the bus stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had gym last period, so you had to wait. Gaining many a stare from your classmates and teachers, not all good but not all bad. Before you knew it, it was already time to go to gym. You were always late to that class and today wasn't going to be any different. You sit in the bathroom brushing out your y/h/c hair and spritzing some perfume all over your body, suddenly you hear the bell ring and gather your belongings and make your way to the gym. You push open the door and see all your classmates gathered on the bleachers.

"Nice of you to join us" Negan chuckles looking you up and down "well you know me Mr. Smith." you say trying to brush off the attention on you. You take a seat in the front middle, your eyes boring into your teachers whenever he made eye contact. He noticed the way you bit your lip when he was talking about the male reproductive system, and the way you sucked gently on your middle finger when he was talking about the female reproductive system. He noticed how he was only talking about balls and fallopian tubes are you still rubbed and pressed your thighs tightly together. And he especially notice the way your eyes drifted down his body and lingered when he his shirt was tugged up ever so slightly and you could see his v line running into his grey sweatpants.

Negan was internally thanking the gods above when the bell rung, he couldn't take that class with you in it anymore. How midway through you asked to go to the bathroom and you were swaying your hips in just the perfect way to make his pants feel tighter. "Alright class, that's all for today, let me know if you have any questions." He was thankful when you left without a word, nervous you would have some weird question that would make him internally explode. He walked to his office before shutting it and sighing.

"Mr. Smith, I had a question." you say getting a visible reaction of surprise from him. He walks over to the desk you are sitting at "Holy shit Doll, don't go around spooking people like that." "Sorry Mr. Smith." adding a flirty lustful tone in your voice before grabbing a pencil and gently biting on the eraser. "What was your question?" "Well... I was just a little confused about the diagram you showed us." you walk over to to sit on the desk in front of him. "What confused you?" You can tell he's getting nervous as you bore into his eyes yet again.

You smile to yourself as you stand and start taking your shorts off, leaving you in a pink thong. "What are you-" you cut him off before he has the chance to get another word in "I was confused about the parts?" You sit up on the desk and spread your legs and move your underwear to the side. He stares you directly in the eyes not daring to look down "What's this part?" you play dumb as you point at your clit "I'm not doing this Y/N." you pucker your lip out "Teach me, please.." You whine. Leaning forward you grab his hand and move it towards your heat. "I just wanna know all about this pretty pink pussy, don't you wanna teach me?" You watch as he sighs and steps closer to you "Well doll.. that's your clitoris." He says as he slowly starts rubbing circles around you. You moan as you point to another spot "And this?" "That's your vaginal opening" He shifts down and sticks one finger in getting a rewarding loud moan in return.

You wrap your hands, that are quite small compared, around his as he quickens his pace and adds another finger. "Oh fuck! I'm gonna-" just as you're about to hit your peak he removes his fingers "There, now you know." just as he's about to reach for your pants and hand them back to you, you quickly shout "Wait! I had umm another question." he smirks as you plant your feet and cup his own area. "What's the male anatomy like?" You play dumb yet again before dropping to your knees and start pulling his sweats down "Doll, I could get into a lot of trouble for this." "Well you're already half way there, please finish it for me." He could never say no to you, ever since you walked into his class the second semester, he has dreamt of this very moment. You let out a little gasp as his manhood springs out of his boxers. It was so much bigger than you thought. You've definitely sucked dick before but, not any quite this big. Not to mention it was long AND thick

You bring a shaky hand to your mouth and spit on it, wrapping the spit covered fingers around as far as they would reach. You look up and give him a nervous look when you realize your hand doesn't even full wrap around it was that thick. You see him giving you a devilish smile, as if he was saying you never should have even came in his office. You gave him a few pumps before kitten licking his tip, gaining a guttural moan from him. Popping his tip into your mouth you continue to pump with your hand and now your mouth. Barely even making it half way down his dick, you feel his hands intertwine in your hair and push you as far down as he can, causing you to gag and cough. You feel him twitch in your mouth as he adds another hand to your hair and starts rocking his hips back and forth. Staring up at him you see him throw his head back and grunt before letting out a loud moan. You feel hot ribbons of cum coating the back of your throat. He carefully lets go of your hair before bringing you up to your feet and lifting you up on to the desk. He lifts your legs so your feet are wrapped around his neck, he rubs his manhood back and forth on your pussy before pushing it balls deep. Letting out a guttural moan, lifting his shirt to play with his happy trail. His thrusts getting harder and faster, working magic on your g-spot. As you feel your core tightening you throw your head back and plead with him not to stop, doing as you wish he continues with a quickened pace, feeling the knot in your core snap you scream out his name before his shoves his fingers down your throat “Shut up Doll, don’t want to get me in trouble do you?” he grinds his hips a few more times before you feel that same warmness all through your cunt. He pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants before handing you your own.

“Thanks for the lesson Mr. Smith” you say trailing your hands from the top of his abdomen to his waist. “Come back anytime you need another you.” he laughs “Oh i’ll be back for sure.” teasing him as you walk out of his office.

#negan smith #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #x reader #twd x reader #jeffrey dean morgan

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billthedrake · 9 months ago

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ACCOUNTABILITY (PART ONE)

Story idea generously provided by @talesfromunderthemattress.

Jim McCready didn't like starting his work day at 6:00, but he'd been dedicated to his CrossFit routine, and the flex schedule allowed him to carve out a couple of hours in the middle of the day. Besides, he realized he could bang out most of his work emails pretty quickly first thing in the day, as he had his coffee, without the distractions of the office or some "crucial" issue coming up.

He was in the middle of one of those emails when a light knock came from the direction of his office door.

His eldest son, Ryan, stood there, tall and bed-headed, wearing just a pair of gym shorts and one of his dad's beat-up hand-me-down Auburn fraternity T-shirts that had become his favorite. Ryan was a football jock, a senior in high school now, and Jim was impressed at how much his kid was filling out that old T.

"Hey Dad," Ry said, his voice still thick with his morning grogginess. Even Ryan's voice had gotten deeper over the last few months, a reminder to Jim that his boy would be off to college very soon.

Jim pushed his chair back. He was already in his business casual for the office, khakis, loafers, button-down, quarter-zip sweater, and the cross necklace barely visible beneath the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

"Hey buddy, what's up?" he asked. When he was younger he used to chastise any of his four kids when they interrupted him at work. But a church seminar on spiritually guided parenting made him shift his focus, to put family first.

Ryan got a shy grin. "I just wanted to be honest with you... and I guess you're gonna realize pretty soon, if you haven't already..."

Two and two clicked for the middle-aged father. "Oh," he said. "I take it you're talking about the app?"

The nervous smile got a lot more nervous. "Yes, sir," his son answered. "I had a weak moment this morning.... you know..." The football tight end shuffled on his feet a little.

His father wasn't exactly happy. He'd convinced Ryan to install the accountability app on his phone. Covenant Watch. It pinged Jim anytime Ryan looked at a porn site or material flagged as sexual. Jim had even set up the same, installing Covenant Watch on his phone. Becoming accountability buddies with his son in the goal of a purer lifestyle. James McCready believed in practicing what he preached.

He'd only received two pings from the app before. Once was a mis-coded site, not porn. The other was a slip up. He and Ryan had a heart-to-heart talk about it, about temptation. And then they prayed. That was four months ago.

Something felt different now, but Jim couldn't put his finger on it. "Anything you need to talk about, buddy?"

Ryan laughed. "No, sir, I'm good. I mean... I'll do better. I promise."

Jim nodded. He believed his son. Ryan was a good kid. Good student, great athlete, devout Christian, head of his FCA chapter at school. And yet, this was Ryan's second accountability slip up.

"All right," the dad replied. "And Ry... thanks for being honest with me, buddy."

Ryan nodded. Maybe more chastised than his easygoing teen demeanor let on. "That's what accountability buddies are for, right, Dad?" He gave his father a longer look, then said, "Well, I'll let you get back to work, sir."

***

It was three days later. Ryan had fifth period free as a study period, with an arrangement to help out Coach Mitchell. Today he was actually studying for his AP biology test while Coach did some paperwork.

The phone buzzed in his pocket. He almost expected it was his best friend Braden Whitmore, but the dude had already gotten detention once for using his phone during Mrs. Clemens class, and even a dumb jock like Whitmore knew not to be that stupid to tempt a second infraction.

It was a banner notification from Covenant Watch. James McCready, 8 flagged sites, 14 flagged pages.

Ryan's heart beat excitedly. As he pulled up the accountability report, his suspicions were confirmed. Dad was looking up the videos Ryan had jacked off to Monday morning. Figures he would, the football jock reasoned. That's what accountability was about. If he didn't want his Dad to know he was watching porn, Ryan knew he shouldn't watch the stuff to begin with.

But Ryan had only watched a couple of videos in his moment of hormonal weakness. It had been a really great stroke session. While the church didn't have a problem with masturbation, their teachings made pornography the forbidden fruit. Just watch those videos of young jocks fucking some hot college chick was enough to make Ryan's palm feel extra amazing.

His teen dick was boning up fast now, and he placed the Bio book on his lap to hide his hardon from Coach, who was engrossed his work anyway. Taking one good look to make sure it was OK to pull it up, Ryan scrolled through the full Convenant Accountability Report.

His father had first watched the ones Ryan had, but then continued to watch more of the Hot Guys Fuck videos on PornHub. Like five of them.

"Hey Coach," Ryan spoke up. "Mind if I find the restroom?" Mitchell wasn't as strict in study period as some teachers, but safer to ask.

"Yep, McCready... you know where it is."

Ryan tried to play it cool, but it was like he couldn't get to that men's room stall fast enough. He shut the door and took his perch on the toilet seat and unzipped. Ryan pulled out his phone and ear buds. Helpfully, Covenant Watch had a link to the offending site, so it took just seconds to pull it up. He almost wasn't even thinking that Dad would be aware he watched it. Ryan just needed to see.

It was a hot one all right. The dude was jacked in that collegiate jock way. HUGE dick, too, thick and veiny.

At times like this the football player was glad his father had left his foreskin intact. Slowly, Ryan worked his shaft with his bare fist as he watched part of one video, then another. Then another. All with the same model/star. Dad clearly was into this stud, and the idea made Ryan's balls twitch with excitement. His hunk of a father had undoubtedly jerked off to the very thing Ryan was watching now.... tugging at that nice long Dad cock, working out a heavy, manly load... And then in the middle of the video a second buff dude entered the scene and started tonguing the dude's balls along with the chick.

Ryan was coming, blasting hard. Cum splattered on the tile floor in front of him, and the rest dribbled down his first.

"Fuck!" he hissed then caught himself, glad no one else was in the restroom during the middle of fifth period. Hurriedly, he cleaned up and flushed the tissue paper down the toilet. The video was still running and Ryan was about to shut it off, when it occurred to him that his Dad would know he watched it. He knew he could in a pinch pass it off as being an accountability buddy, just seeing what Dad had clicked on. His Dad probably wasn't dumb, but it's not like his old man hadn't done that to him.

But, fuck, a part of Ryan didn't want to get off easy. He clicked on the "Bisexual" tag and scrolled till he found a hot looking one. Then hit play. He didn't even need to let the whole thing run. He had to get back to Coach Mitchell's office pronto, anyway. But this would be enough. His Dad would know.

Ryan shut the video and stuffed his phone and earbuds back in his pocket. He washed up and made his way back. Now he was trying to play it cool in a different way, trying to calm his breathing and hoping that he hadn't totally fucked up.

***

Jim could barely look Ryan in the eye that evening. The father could not believe he'd been so incredibly weak that afternoon, but it had been a slow day at the office, and just, well... he was horny as fuck. He'd actually jerked off on Tuesday just looking at the names of the websites Ryan had watched. That's before the guilt had sunk in. He should be leading his son away from sin, in Christian stewardship.

Then that afternoon guilt gave way to horniness. He'd watched more. And not even thirty minutes later, Covenant Watch was sending its accountability report.

The thing that had caught him off guard now was that Ryan was doing his best to act cool. Jim knew his son was nervous as fuck, as nervous as he was, but every body language signal his son sent out over dinner or as he helped his Dad cleanup and do dishes was "it's cool, Dad."

The tension was still thick as they were alone in the kitchen. Ryan broke the spell, leaning in to whisper, "You mad at me, Dad?"

Jim shook his head. For all the emotions he was feeling he wasn't upset at Ryan. He had to wonder why he wasn't. "No..." he replied back in an equally soft whisper. "It's just we shouldn't have done it."

Ryan gave a grin, though it was more of a supportive one than a cocky one. Jim never felt as much as he did now that his eldest was all grown up, 18, fully sexual. "I know, Dad... it's just... knowing you were looking at those sites, too..." He didn't finish his thoughts be he didn't have to.

"Not my proudest moment," Jim said. "This stays between us?" He KNEW he shouldn't be asking his son to cover for his own shortcomings as a man and a father. Accountability had become conspiracy. But he also knew he didn't want Kelly knowing what he'd done. He'd rather lose face with Ryan than that.

"Course, Dad," Ryan said. "I guess that means I'm not grounded or anything..." OK, now that cocky smirk was there.

Jim had to laugh. "Nah, kiddo, you're not grounded."

The conversation had cleared the air a lot. Jim felt better, and as he got ready for bed that evening, he reflected that his own lack of conjugal connection with his wife had put him in the mindset where he'd stray. Not that he was blaming Kelly for any of his shortcomings. But the idea of the no-porn pledge was to channel his male desires into marriage.

But Kelly rebuffed his attempt to initiate sex that night. Any other night, it would have felt normal. Marriage was a partnership and both people had to want sex. That night, though, it was like Jim McCready was looking for a lifeline. Looking for his wife to save him from more debased desires.

Those desires came hard and heavy, as the father tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. They continued even as he finally entered his deep REM sleep. And they were there when he woke up at 5 in the morning, rock hard as he'd ever been.

Jim lay awake thinking about the bisexual scene and how he wanted to watch more... how he got excited by the two guys kissing, or one dude sucking the other one. This wasn't the first time in his life that he'd had gay fantasies, but they seemed surprisingly strong now.

He looked over the clock. Earlier than he got up, but not too early, he decided. He slipped out of the bed and found some sweats to put on. He went to start the pot of coffee and then made his way to his home office and shut the door.

Last night everything had seemed clear in his head. He'd implied to Ryan that they'd stop this escalation. Only this morning, he was horny as fuck. Moreover, the more he replayed last night's conversation with Ry, the last he was convinced that his son saw it as a stop to things.

Already, Jim was pulling up Pornhub on his phone. With his heart beating, he clicked on the "Straight" selection on top and changed it to "Gay." The algorithm did the rest. The page filled with thumbnails of hot, muscled collegiate-jock looking guys. Handsome, clean-cut. Jim turned down the volume on the phone and pressed play for one...

***

Ryan woke up and when he looked at his phone there was a Convenant Watch notification. 27 forbidden sites accessed.

"Dad, you naughty fucker," he said aloud as he sat up in bed and looked at the full report. Already he was pulling down his briefs and taking his morning wood in hand.

***

Jim was a little disappointed that Ryan only watched one of the videos. Then he started getting freaked out. Maybe the gay video was a step too far. They'd shared some bi-ones, but this was different. As he got dressed for work after showering, his whole body shook. What if Ryan wasn't gonna keep this between them? If his son told anyone, Jim was royally and truly fucked.

But as he walked into the kitchen, everything was normal. His family was there eating breakfast. Ryan had gone through a phase of skipping breakfast or maybe just grabbing a breakfast bar, but now he was working out a lot and had football, and the kid now was eating nonstop.

"Morning, Dad," his daughter Olivia said as Jim came in and poured his second cup of coffee for the morning.

"Hey Princess," he winked, then Kelly greeted him, but mostly laid out the plan for shuttling the kids from practice that afternoon. Her bossy planning mode used to annoy the hell out of Jim, but now he appreciated how his wife kept it all running. They had four amazing children, who were growing up fast.

Some faster than others, Jim thought with a gulp as he looked over at Ryan, scarfing down eggs, sausage, and toast. At least the kid wasn't giving him the silent treatment or even seemed bothered.

It out the door time, now. Kelly took the two youngest, Sara and Mitchell, while Ryan would drive Olivia to the high school they both attended. Jim went to his office to retrieve his hard drive and papers to take in. He took one final check around to make sure he'd cleaned up the cum from earlier. It had been a big load, for sure.

He heard a knock.

"Hey Dad." It was Ryan's voice. Quiet, almost as his son stepped in and shut the door softly behind him. "Just wanna say, sir, you have good taste." Ryan had his normal polite kid demeanor, but that smirk coming back.

That caught Jim off guard. Ry's words but more than that his nonchalant approach. "Yeah, buddy?"

Ryan nodded, like he was getting turned on a little just talking to his father like this. "Oh yeah... I mean, I couldn't make it through one before losing it." His eyes locked with Jim's for a second. It turned the father on, and yet he also felt the earth was opening beneath him. Swallowing him to Hell. "Anyway... catch you later."

"Yeah," Jim croaked in reply. Mad that he couldn't be the responsible dad. Mad that he was letting his libido drive things. "Have a good day, son."

#drakestories

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absurdthirst · 1 year ago

Text

Dirty Secrets {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Suspicions of infidelity, thoughts of murder (It's Dave 🤷🏼‍♀️), invasion of privacy, bondage, derogatory language, thigh slapping, plugs, double penetration, cum play, vaginal sex, anal fingering, mentions of fisting.

Comments: You're hiding something, possibly an affair. Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night and changing your passwords. Your husband, Dave York, is going to get to the bottom of what is going on.

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave’s jaw clenches, nearly breaking from the force as the door creeps open slowly, the urge to speak, to let you know that he is awake and aware of you sneaking back into the bed is strong. This bitch….It’s not a very nice thing to think about you, the woman that is his wife, but it's justified. Instead, he stays still, keeping his breathing even as the covers shuffle and the slight jostle of the mattress indicates that you are climbing back into the bed. Thinking that he is still asleep and you are not bothering him.

You’re cheating on him. It’s the natural conclusion that all of your latest changes in behaviors lead to and it sits in Dave’s craw like a festering wound. He’s never cheated on you. Not once. Not when pretty, fresh faced interns look at him like he’s a fucking God as he walks around the DIA hall, eager to get his coffee or do anything else he would want, including getting on their knees for him. Not when he’s out of town - fuck, out of the country - on business where you would never find out.

His wedding ring has stayed on his finger and his cock has stayed zipped up in his pants. Looking wasn’t a crime, at least not in his opinion and Dave York likes to look. But he never once crossed a line into what would break your heart or his wedding vows.

It’s galling, infuriating, that he would be faithful and attentive, as much as he can be when he has a high pressure job with frequent travel, two little girls who want daddy’s attention when he gets home, and a honey-do list that never ends and you would cheat on him. He had thought that the two of you were building a future, working as a team to have the life that the two of you talked about when you were dating. It seemed as if the stars were finally aligning.

It had started small, something that he had originally overlooked. Your passcode on your phone had changed. Needing to get into the damn thing to look at the dance recital schedule you had forgotten to text him, he had frowned when the code you had for as long as you’ve had a smartphone hadn’t worked. He had almost asked you for the new one, thinking you had just changed it but something had told him to stay quiet.

That was when he started watching you. Carefully observing the body language and your habits that were as well known to him as his own. You don’t live with someone without knowing them and their routines. Not unless you just don’t give shit.

You were on your phone a lot more. Biting your lip to smother your grin as you type away furiously. Phone tilted away from him as the two of you sat on the couch together. Not angled enough to be dramatically noticeable but enough that he couldn’t see what you were writing, or to whom.

Then there was your laptop. Another changed password that he discovered this time when he deliberately went to log in. Making him scowl at the screen for a moment as he contemplates smashing the damn thing in a fit of anger.

When you were on the computer, if he came home or entered the room without alerting you, you would practically slam the lid shut when you noticed him. Jumping guiltily and rushing away from the damning evidence of your infidelity to kiss him.

He’s poured over the cell phone bill. Looking for a pattern of numbers that you have recently started dialing but there’s nothing glaringly obvious. It would take but a moment to crack into your phone if he really wanted to and it’s coming to that now.

You had slipped out of bed nearly an hour ago. One hour downstairs while you communicated with whoever you had met. Who the hell were you cheating on him with? Why were you cheating? What wasn’t he doing to fulfill your needs? No, he didn’t always bring you flowers or chocolates when he was coming home from trips, but he tried to make time for date nights, arranging for the next door neighbors daughter to watch the girls so he could take you out.

He fucked you often. Even if it was a quickie in the shower before the girls got up and the chaos of the morning started. He would never have said that your sex life was lacking, even if it had slipped into the comfortable routine that time brings rather than the thrill of something new. He had assumed that was normal, but apparently it wasn’t good enough for you.

You flip and flop for a moment, your sighs soft and Dave opens his mouth in the dark. Nearly confronting you and demanding to know what the fuck you are doing. He feels you freeze, obviously sensing him ‘stir’ since you thought he was asleep, but Dave just gives a small snuffle and adjusts his position before he falls silent again. Feeling you move again a few moments later after you feel like he would have fallen back into a deep circadian rhythm.

“I love you.” The words are whispered in the dark, not meant for Dave to actually hear them but he wonders exactly who those words are for.

****

He should feel guilty about lying to you. Telling you that he was going to be late coming home from work tonight, but he actually has no plans on going to work today. He’s used a rare sick day, often only taking them if the girls were sick. He would and could video conference from the home office if he needs to, instead of making you take off from work. That way it wasn’t unbalanced since you would have to care for them if he was out of town.

Instead, he leaves like he normally does, guiding the car around the neighborhood and parking down the street where you wouldn’t notice him. Watching for when you and the girls leave for the day so he can go back to the house.

Eyes narrowing as he watches you herd the two children - his children that you had birthed - into the car and climb in. The expensive SUV that you had insisted that you didn’t really need but Dave had wanted you to have. The safety rating was top notch and it had given him peace of mind. There are plenty of unfortunates in the world he lives in, the one that he had hoped you and the girls would never experience, and he hadn’t wanted his wife and children to be in anything but the best.

It’s insulting, he’s decided. He knows you know what he does. It’s unspoken, but it’s there. You know about his time in the military, you met him right before that fucking building came down on him and the team. You helped patch him back together, figuratively and literally. Your beautiful smile and promises of more exciting activities once he had recovered had fueled him through hours of painful physical therapy. He had seen the flash of understanding when he announced he had been offered a position in the DIA. There is a reason you kiss him like it might be the last time every time he goes out of town. You know what he is.

So it’s demeaning that you would believe that you were capable of fooling him. To think that you could outsmart someone who pulled people’s lives apart for a living. He had more experience lying that you could ever imagine but he had never thought he would be lying to you.

Cameras and security systems are already disabled, not wanting to alert you to him coming back home as he pulls into the driveway. His teeth nearly grind to pieces as he shuts the door to his car and tries to look nonchalant as he walks up the walkway. As if he’s forgotten something rather than searching for the trigger to implode his marriage.

He might kill the man. Seriously. He might kill the man who has touched his wife when he learns who it is. He’s morally gray enough to not lose sleep over it and have a sense of pride at ridding the world of the man who had ruined his children’s life. Because while he would never touch you in anger, things between the two of you would be over. No amount of couple’s counseling would ever allow him to trust you again.

Your laptop is sitting in the kitchen, obviously where you had left it last night. He stares at it for a good three minutes, brooding and blood hammering through his veins until he has to take a couple of slow, measured breaths to calm himself down.

Once he sits down and opens the device, it takes less than five minutes to get into it. He wasn’t exactly setting a speed record but there was some hesitancy in his fingers as he poured through the possible passwords you might use. In the end, it is the girl’s birthday and it makes him huff in disbelief as the screen changes into your screensaver - a picture of you and him wrapped up on the couch and smiling. Dave ignores it and opens your browser to check the history. “What have you been up to, baby?” He sneers, eyes hard as he starts to dig through your computer.

****

“Come on girls.” Surprised to find Dave’s car in the driveway, since he had said he would be home late, you pull into the driveway and park. Your plans change with him home now and that makes you huff slightly to yourself. It’s not that you were disappointed that he was home, you would never feel that way, but you had been looking forward to a couple of hours on your computer without interruption once the girls went to bed. It was hard to find time that wasn’t interrupted nowadays.

“Girls!” Dave comes out of the house, smiling widely as they tear off towards him, happily yelling ‘daddy!’ as only they can - at ear splitting volumes. You are slower, taking your time and gathering the backpacks along with your own bag out of the car before you close it up and hit the locks.

He scoops them up, making them laugh and squeal when he kisses their cheeks and necks playfully. Juggling them in his arms in a routine that always makes them happy.

“Well this is a surprise.” You offer, smiling at the scene. “We were expecting to see you in the morning, weren’t we girls?”

It might be your imagination but Dave’s eyes flicker with something dark before he nods. “Plans changed.” He tells you, shrugging slightly as if it’s no big deal. “Now girls, Rebecca is going to watch you two tonight. You’re going to have a sleepover at her house.”

Frowning in confusion, you watch as the girls cheer and hug him before throwing themselves from his arms and practically flying across the manicured lawn towards the neighbors house. You huff when they don’t even look back. “Bye!” you call out sarcastically at them only to receive halfhearted waves from the neighbors porch. They love sleepovers with Rebecca, apparently more than their mom.

“Why is Reb-”

“Inside.” Your eyes widen slightly and your stomach clenches at the way the word is growled at you. Turning to find Dave already marching back up the steps to go into the open front door of your house.

Slightly alarmed, you hurry after him only to have him quickly close the door and the click of the lock sounds louder than it is. Like the proverbial cell slamming shut and you find that your pulse has sped up.

“Dave, what’s going on?” You demand, hanging up the girl’s bags and your purse before you move to take their water bottles into the sink. Feeling him trailing after you like a dark spector. It makes you worry, wondering what the hell has gone wrong that Dave needs to send the kids away and immediately lock the door. Turning, you find him watching you almost like he's trying to figure out what your secrets are.

He doesn’t speak, making you squirm slightly and you feel your skin start to burn under the intensity of his gaze. It’s as if he’s…waiting.

The thing is, you know what Dave does. You’ve never gotten into the specifics of what all his job entails, but there have been bruises, cuts, signs of a skirmish. You know your husband is completely capable of handling his shit. And yet, he’s never once raised a hand to you, or even raised his voice really. Not in anger. Dave is wound tight at times, but he doesn’t take his shit out on you or the girls, but you’ve seen the darkness that lurks around the edge of his eyes. The way they can go flat and emotionless, looking like a stranger for a moment before your Dave comes back to you.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you aren’t sure why. Making you shuffle slightly as you try to remember if you’ve forgotten anything. It’s not your anniversary but maybe he’s told you something was happening tonight that you are supposed to remember. But why wouldn’t he just tell you?

“Everything alright?” Of course you were going to break. Dave arches a brow, his intense look not changing except to take on a challenging edge.

“You tell me.” Okaaaaay, this is slightly suspicious but then he keeps talking. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your stomach plummets and your heart starts to gallop in your chest. Your eyes flickering over to your laptop and Dave hums. “Mmmhmmm.”

“Did you-”

“Did you think you could keep this from me?” He asks quietly, voice dropping down several octaves. Making your eyes widen at the fucking authority in his tone. “Answer me.”

“I can explain…” Except, how do you explain this? How can you possibly tell your husband what you’ve been doing?

“Can you?” He purses his lips at you, folding his arms across his chest as he asks. Almost mocking you. “You can explain?”

“It- it’s just-” Your cheeks could fry an eye and you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes sliding away to look at the laptop again. “They’re just stories.”

****

“Daaaaave.” Your plea is low, practically whimpered and Dave chuckles as he watches you twist against the straps that have you tied to the bed.

After he had wound you up, teased you with the fact that he had read everything that you have written, there had been a frantic urgency to the way that he had dragged you upstairs. An urgency that has been missing from your sex life.

“Shut up.” The slap to your sensitive inside thigh stings and makes you moan, body on fire from anticipation and embarrassment over how wet you are from this. “You asked for this.”

You hadn’t asked for it, not out loud. Unable to voice the desires that swim around in your head and set fire to your cunt, you hadn’t been able to give voice to them to the man who had known your body better than anyone. So you had written them down.

Expressing yourself through sexy stories, made up fantasies and encounters to work through the desires that you often masturbate to. Not because Dave is a bad lover, he’s always been good about making sure that you feel good in bed with him. It just….wasn’t everything you needed.

Now he’s hovering over you, darkness clouding his eyes and that blank expression is focused on you for the first time. It makes your heart race again, this time in a very specific kind of way. The kind that makes your cunt ache and your thighs try to close to get some kind of friction on your clit.

His body prevents that. Thighs spread wide as he keeps you splayed open and his cock bobbing enticingly with a heavy bead of precum pearling up at the tip. Not quite leaking down like the other smears of wetness but getting close and you swear that you’ve not seen him this hard in a long time.

“Slut.” He chuckles darkly, “writing fucking filthy stories and thinking that I wouldn’t notice. You know what I do, what I am. You wanted to get caught. To have me read what you crave and not have to say it out loud. To pretend that you are innocent and good when you’re just a nasty whore.”

Biting your lip, you take the verbal abuse that Dave is spitting at you, ashamed at how good it sounds coming from his raspy baritone. Just like you had always imagined it. Dave could, and would talk dirty in bed but he had never called you names and it’s not something you could ask for despite being able to talk to him about anything.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Dave hums, fingers brushing over your clit again before he slaps your thigh again. Once more in the exact same spot makes you hiss. He wants welts to raise up on your skin, to give you the things that you have written about in your stories in exacting detail.

Giving him an insight into what you wanted in the deepest, darkest parts of your soul. The things you wouldn’t say aloud despite the conversations about ‘spicing things up in the bedroom’.

There is a moment where his eyes soften again, fingers stroking over your thigh as the heat from the three swats starts to set in. He hadn’t been gentle and he can feel the way that your skin prickles with goosebumps.

There is a moment where he thinks you aren’t going to answer him, that you want your thigh slapped again but then you nod. Eyes heavy lidded and already lust blown as you pant. Your tits lift with every heaving breath and he’s barely touched you.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asks, not wanting an answer from you really, it’s all rhetorical because he’s going to do what he wants. “Fist you?”

The way you squirm has him grinning, the skin of your lip between your teeth and you can’t quite meet his eyes. “Oh I read it all.” He hums mockingly, not mentioning that he had to jerk off because of your steamy words. He got turned on reading your dirty little stories. Whoever Jack Daniels or Marcus Pike was, they knew how to fucking having fun. “No need to be shy, I know you get off on the thought of me shoving my fist inside you, or having my cock inside you along with a toy.”

He picks up the toy he had pulled out of your drawer, holding it up to show you what he could potentially do for you. It’s a plug, one that he’s never seen before and it intrigues him. You obviously have some toys that you use for yourself when he’s gone and right now, he’s going to use them on you.

You tug on the restraints, feeling your heartbeat drumming under your skin every time you tug and meeting the resistance. The limited movement and the feeling of being helpless is one that you’ve always wanted and now you have it.

You had shocked him, which was rare for a man like Dave. He has seen so much of the world at its worst and the woman he had imagined to be slightly innocent in some things was anything but. “I’m going to push this inside your tight little ass and then I’m going to fuck you.” He promises. “Later we are going to train that tight little cunt to take my fist in it. Aren’t we, baby? You’re going to be my little slut?”

“Dave-”

“Daaaaavvvve.” He pouts his lips, mocking you with a devilish glint in his eyes. “No? You want to see how many fingers I can get inside you now? Maybe I’ll fuck your ass while I’m working you open.”

Your whimper makes his cock twitch. Watching you pull at the restraints is thrilling in a way that he had never tried to imagine with you. Separating the Dave York for work from the man who came home to his family had been deliberate and yet you want some of the man he had to be to survive.

His fingers trail over your skin, watching as your breathing hitches and he grins before he leans down and presses his lips to yours softly. “Don’t worry, baby.” He coos, “I’m going to give you exactly what you need.”

****

He takes his time. Showing you how methodical he can be as he works his fingers in and out of your grasping, leaking little hole. Every gasp you give when he brushes up against the smaller plug that is nestled inside of you makes him chuckle. Mocking you for being so sensitive, even while his fingers are curling up inside you.

Three, three of his fingers are stretching you out and you don’t know how you will possibly take more. They are thicker than the two that he normally uses, pushed deep just to the edge of being uncomfortable. Making you squirm and bite your lip, watching his eyes as he stares at you. The slightly mocking light in his gaze urging you to take just a bit more.

“Maybe your dildo in your ass, right baby?” Dave grunts as he starts to scissor his fingers, wanting you to be stretched out. His chest is heaving, watching you so wantonly beg for him. Wanting him to fulfill those dirty little fantasies that you had hidden from him. If you had just told him what you were thinking about, he could have done this sooner. Would have done this sooner.

The plug vibrates. He had learned that when he had slid it inside you and felt the little switch underneath the silicone that covers the flared base. Now buzzing away inside you and making you whimper his name while his fingers push as deep as they can go. The wrecked moans pouring out of your throat makes him want to fuck it. Imagining how good it would feel around his cock. You’ve blown him plenty of times, but this time it would be like you had written about. He wouldn’t let you control the pace or how deep you take him. He would.

“Baby please.” Your plea is breathless, gasped out as you tug on the restraints again. Pouting at him like he is torturing you. Dave grunts, leaning down and kissing your jaw, biting your chin.

“I’ve got you, you can take it. I know you can, baby. Such a good slut for me.” He praises, feeling your soaked walls contract around his fingers like a vice. “You just need to cum for me so I can fuck you. Replace these fingers with my cock.”

A fourth finger tries to push inside. Making you wince and whine while your hips jerk back from his touch for the first time since this little game started. Dave’s eyes immediately find your face, watching as he pulls that finger back, making sure that you are comfortable. Your safe word in his mind if you should need to say it, but he wants to make this good. This isn’t about him controlling you as much as you putting your pleasure in his hands.

Once your body relaxes, you start to push down again, your hands flexing around the straps and itching to touch him. To urge him for more, begging him with your eyes to let you cum as the vibrations of the plug and the curling of his fingers draw you close every time he rolls his wrist.

“Fuck.” The noises you make are vastly different from the normal soft moans and gentle cries that you give when your husband is touching you. Some of that is due to not having the kids in the house, not worrying about little ears hearing. The majority of it is from the pure pleasure that is rolling through your body and making you ache.

You are getting what you’ve always wanted, what you’ve secretly needed. Too scared to say it out loud for fear of being rejected, or mocked. Or worse, your husband thinking there was something wrong with you. You had never imagined thinking that he would be into it.

“Come on baby.” He urges you, eyes dark and blown wide as he watches you. “Cum for me. Want that pussy creamy when I fuck you full of me. Stretched out on a dildo and my dick and squealing.”

That pushes you over the edge, arching up into his touch and obeying his command with ease that just seems to shake you apart at the seams. “Dave!” Your scream catches and breaks in your throat, cascading through you and making you shudder.

“That’s it, oh fuck sweetheart, you look so good cumming.” He praises you, nearly cumming himself as he watches you. Enjoying the way your chest rises and falls, your body shakes and your cunt clenches around his fingers.

It’s exquisite when he pushes into you, the feeling of being so full is a sensation that you’ve never imagined you would get. Two toys just doesn’t do it. It doesn’t feel like Dave. Nothing could feel as good as he does, the heat, the throbbing. Making you shiver and moan like the little slut he keeps claiming you are. You are a slut, his slut. You will be anything that he wants you to be as long as he keeps touching you like this. Giving you what you have craved. “I’m- it’s so much.” You whimper, eyes rolling back in your head. “So full, fuck Dave I’m so full.”

His chuckle rolls over you like a dark wave, filling your ears and senses with the pleasure that he is pulling from this. He’s enjoying himself, the smug smirk on his face when you finally open your eyes to find him looking down at you.

“Yes you are.” You are stretched out, the little plug in your ass swapped for a smaller dildo so you aren’t pushed too far, but he could imagine a bigger toy inside you. Pressing against him through the thin skin. “You are going to take everything I give you, baby. You’re gonna take it and you’re gonna love it.”

You will, you trust Dave. He’s your husband, he’s got your best interests in mind and so far he’s been amazing. Completely in control and still giving you what you need. His thrusts start to speed up now that you are slightly relaxed. Groaning as he starts a rhythm that takes your breath and leaves you unable to do anything more than to watch his jaw clench and flex as he fucks you.

Grunting every time he buries himself deep and gasping when he pulls out of your grasping cunt. It feels amazing, every nerve alight with pleasure and you feel like your nipples are hard as diamonds as the scrape against his chest. Heightening the sensations and making it even better as he stuffs you full with the tilt of his hips pushes the toy deeper inside you.

“Dave, oh fuck, Dave.” You moan, unable to do anything but take it since you are still restrained. “Please, baby. Please.”

“Shit.” He hisses as he starts to rock his hips faster, chasing his high and pushing you towards to yours. “You dirty fucking girl, you love this.” He grunts. “If you - fuck - if you weren’t my wife I’d get another guy to fuck you with me.” He bares his teeth. “No one else touches you. You’re mine.”

“Yours.” You pant, nodding as he continues to wreck you. “I’m yours baby, only yours.”

He growls, pleased with your answer. “I’ll give you what you need, I’ll take care of my little slut.” He taunts.

He will, he is. It’s all you can think before your entire body seizes up and you cry out hoarsely. Stars bursting and your entire world exploding on an atomic level and your vision whites out.

Dave groans your name, pushing deep two more times before he is cumming. Filling you with hot spurts of his seed as he pants out your name again and relaxes against your body. Breathless as he tries to catch his breath so he can take care of you. You had kept secrets from him, secrets that he had thought were going to change your marriage. And they have - for the better. He has been very pleased to learn your dirty secrets.

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfic #dave york imagine #dave york fanfiction #dave york equalizer 2

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silverzoomies · 4 months ago

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silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

#peter maximoff headcanons #headcanons #long post #txt #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #asks #anon #i hope this layout works idfk what i'm doing lmao

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streetlightyeri · 3 months ago

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the misspoken chapter ; scott miller

chapter I of the 28 series

“you took a train to the south side of boston, you showed me where your old man stayed.”

w.c: around 7000

warnings: misogyny, extended writing of being trapped in an elevator, mention of pregnancy in medical setting, not well proofread.

Aspen rested her head on Scott’s shoulder as the Red Line railcar thundered back up across the Charles River. His arms were folded across his chest for the beginning of the ride, but his sleepy girlfriend had wedged her arms through his, intertwining her fingers into the hand closest to her. He busied his other hand with grabbing the sliding tupperware of leftovers her parents weighed them down with. It was a short train trip; Scott wasn’t sure how she was able to fall asleep and get so comfortable so fast. It must’ve been her plan from the moment he saw her heavy blinks after dessert.

When they finally got to their stop, he flexed his hand she was holding before shaking it, the movement making her grumble and lift her head. He pressed a chaste kiss to her hair before standing, her arms still wrapped around his. “This is our stop.”

She stood and let him guide her back to the street where the cool air started to wake her up. He let go of her hand to reposition himself on the outside; he flexed his hand in the absence of hers, but her warmth found him again quickly, without him having to ask.

They finally made it back to their shared apartment, their soon-to-be alma mater shining in the distance.

The two met when she overheard him bitching at an undergrad she was just helping about how he messed up a line of code and didn’t deserve the second chance to correct his homework for something as simple as a parenthesis. When the student asked what he could do to learn from his mistake, Scott looked through stacks of paper and pulled out a piece with lines of letters and numbers printed on it. “Find whoever this is, and hope they have pity on you to teach you.”

Aspen scoffed from behind her computer screen, recognizing the paper. She never understood why they had to print out coding homework, but Dr Muher was weird. Scott’s eyes narrowed in her direction; the other two students using Dr Muher’s TA’s Study Hour quickly gathered their things and bolted out the door.

“I’m sorry, is another student’s struggle funny to you?”

Aspen stopped typing and shut her laptop as though she had all the time in the world. She interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them. “No, just that you’re using my work as an example and you don’t even know what I look like.”

Scott looked between the paper and the girl and before letting out his own scoff. “Yeah, I will not believe this is your work.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Why not? Please enlighten me.”

“This is too advanced to be a junior’s work.”

“This is a junior level class, is it not?”

“Yes, but-”

“The name on the paper is Aspen Lee, is it not?”

The TA’s hand tightened around the paper in anger at being defied.

She stood, palms resting on the table. “Why don’t you say what you’re thinking? That it can’t be me because I’m a girl. You’re the TA, why is it my job to teach my peers? I know the army doesn’t pay you shit, but that isn’t my fault. You don’t see my name on a fucking building here, and I’m not making it someone else’s problem.”

She zipped her backpack and wrapped her laptop in her arms. Just before she was out of the door she turned back, hand on the doorknob, “And by the way, his work is missing a bracket, not a parenthesis.”

A few weeks later, after very fiery glances being thrown between the two, Dr Muher called the two to her office hours. She sat with perfect posture as she looked across to the two biggest headaches of her entire teaching career, both with their arms crossed and scowls set deep in their faces. “I will not have my TA and my highest performing pupil glaring each other down every second of my class! I do not care what animosity you have for each other, but your rivalry is causing a rift to form in my classroom. You will both give apologies in front of the class for the way you two have behaved.”

Scott went to speak, but the stone coldness of Aspen’s voice lowered the temperature in the room, “No.”

Dr Muher pulled her head back in a mix of surprise and disbelief. “I’m sorry Ms Lee, but did you just say ‘no’?”

“I’m not apologizing when this is his fault.” She jutted her thumb in his direction.

He let out a groan, “What are you, five?”

Aspen rolled her eyes and swallowed hard, standing from her chair and throwing her bag over her shoulder. The professor held her hand up to Scott, warning him to stop, before turning her gaze back to Aspen, freezing her in place. “Ms Lee, I will not tolerate the environment you two have created in my classroom, you must understand this.”

Aspen’s voice was throaty, years of anger seeping into her words. “Why is it me who always has to ‘understand’? And speaking of ‘understanding,’ I thought you of all people would! You are the only woman on this goddamn computer science faculty, you know what it’s like having to prove yourself, downplay yourself, humble yourself, just to make the very essence of you palpable for the men in this field. You’re trying to tell me my work was good enough to rub in another student’s face until he saw that it was me who did it? And you expect me to just lay there and take it? I will not apologize to my peers for something that is not my fault, especially when I have yet to hear an apology from him! And if proving the point that the woman always gets the worse end of the deal requires me failing this class, that is something I am willing to do.”

Seven days later, Scott had not apologized and neither had Aspen. She was missing from all three following lectures. Just seeing her name as he transcribed attendance from everyone’s clicker made him grip his pencil to near breaking. After that third lecture, Scott was sitting at his desk in Dr Muher’s office, grading freshman coding assignments. He nearly threw his laptop after the 4th student in a row couldn’t make a circle turn 360 degrees. When Aspen walked in, he pressed the 0 key on his keyboard so hard that the student’s grade input as 000000000/10 and tanked their grade to a negative seven.

Her backpack hung off one shoulder, and she had a single piece of pink paper in her hand. She didn’t acknowledge Scott as she handed the paper over to the professor.

Dr Muher pulled her glasses off her head and perched them on her nose, pretending as if she needed to read what the paper said to know that the Pepto Bismol pink paper was a drop slip. She dropped the paper on her desk with a sigh, “Ms Lee, you are aware that dropping my class this close to the end of the year will impact your financial aid and your transcript?”

“This class isn’t even for my major, I took it as a free elective.”

The professor blinked, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, “Remind me again why you are taking junior level C++ and are a . . . what major?”

“I’m here for coastal engineering. My programs are in MATLAB and Python. I just needed the A from this class. I’ll get it elsewhere. So, can you sign the slip?”

Dr Muher sighed again and sprawled her signature onto the slip. When the door shut behind Aspen, she turned to Scott, pointing in the direction Aspen disappeared to with the end of her glasses. “Fix this.”

The first flurries of winter were falling around Aspen as she made her way across campus and into the student union. The snow was a month early; it was only the beginning of November. It was early morning, the first class section still multiple hours away. She paid for a coffee and redirected herself to the elevators to go to the study rooms on the top floor.

An irritatingly tall man in a military uniform walked up next to her, freshly showered but still flushed from a workout. “May we talk?”

Aspen gave him a side glance, refusing to turn to him and have to look up, continuing to walk down the breezeway. “No.”

That made him falter. Scott pursed his lips and took a deep breath, summoning all of the patience he never knew he possessed. He took two steps to catch up with her, shoving his hand in the door of the elevator she had already made it to. His teeth were grit as he spoke, “Please, may we talk?”

“Why, Dr Muher threatened to give you a bad review to your Lieutenant?” She made eye contact with him through the mirrors that surrounded them as the elevator slowly ascended.

“You have to be such a dick all the time?”

Aspen finally looked at him, eyebrows lifted and eyes widened as if to say “oh, I’m the dick?” but couldn’t finish her sentence, the jolting of the elevator before it stopped prevented her from finishing. The fluorescent light above them flickered; the two turned their heads up towards it. “You have got to be fucking joking.”

She was nearest to the buttons, the two having left enough room for a squadron of kindergarteners to stand between them. Aspen pressed the open door button, hoping the stop was a fluke and the pair just hadn’t realized they were already at the 3rd floor.

The door did not open.

“Shocking.”

Aspen swung her head to glare at him. “And if we pressed the emergency call button and hadn’t pressed that, what would we have done if that was the fix?”

Scott narrowed his eyes back at her, shooing her away from the buttons. She tried to resist but his arm pushing her backwards against her shoulders was too strong and she stumbled to the corner he just vacated. His finger hovered against the emergency call button. “No smart comment about how I might tell whoever answers that there’s only one person who needs help?”

“What would they do when they came? Pry open the doors to get you out then snap them back shut and cut the cable line to let me fall to my death?” Aspen swiped open her phone with her free hand but only an SOS signal shined back at her.

Scott mumbled out a Jesus Christ at the morbid quip before pressing the button. The two sat in tense silence for a few seconds before a voice cracked through an unseen speaker. “University Police Department, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Staff Sergeant Scott Miller, a civilian and I-” Scott saw Aspen mouth civilian to herself and quietly snort out a laugh, “are in an unmoving elevator in the student union breezeway.”

Aspen rested her head against the wall with her eyes closed while he continued the call. The mirrors reflecting off each other creating infinite Scotts was too much for her to handle.

“Please prepare to be there for up to multiple hours, as we need to ensure there is nothing wrong with the wiring due to the weather. It is pertinent that you do not open the doors from the inside; the elevator may resume working on its own and can be deadly if one of you is caught between a floor and the elevator.”

The voice clicked off just before it could hear the two of them say, “Hours?”

Then the light went out.

It took only a half hour for Aspen to suck her coffee dry and begin to lose body heat. The breezeway elevator shafts were connected to the outside, meaning whatever temperature was outside translated to the inside. The box was slowly becoming an ice locker. Scott was still warm, fully dressed in his three uniform layers that kept in his body heat from his post-workout shower. Aspen looked through her bag multiple times, hoping to find an extra scarf or gloves but was out of luck each time. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together before putting her hands in her armpits. She kept her head down to blow warm air onto herself.

A camouflage jacket hit her body before falling to the floor. She looked at Scott, who was sitting on the opposite corner of the elevator, feet planted and knees up. She lifted a brow in question.

“Put it on so you don’t die of hypothermia. If I get saved and you’re dead, the military police are going to have my ass.”

Aspen was still shivering under Scott’s military jacket. The metal of the elevator was absorbing more of the cold air from outside and turning the cube into a certified meat locker. She pulled out her textbooks and stacked them on the floor so the two of them could avoid putting their cores near the cold metal. She didn’t want to admit that it was Scott’s idea, but he had little to offer for them to sit on aside from cold, sweaty clothes in his duffle bag.

She curled into his jacket, trying to seal in any warmth left from him. Her knees were pulled to her chest and she dipped her head to meet them so her hot breath warmed up her skin through her pants.

After a few minutes, Scott noticed a decrease in her shuddering breathing movements. He nudged her side. “Are you still alive, Lee?”

She let out a grumble. “Yes, Miller. I think I am alive because if I was in hell, it wouldn’t be this cold.”

He snorted, “Going to hell, eh?”

She peaked out of her cocoon, only one eye visible to him. “If I die and you’re there, then yeah, I’m in hell.”

“What were you going to say?” Aspen asked, her voice muffled.

“What?”

“What you were chasing me to say.”

Scott sat in the silence that followed for a while. “I wanted to apologize.”

She pulled her head out the cocoon she made, brows knit in surprise.

It looked like it pained him to say it, but Aspen could tell there was sincerity in his words. There was no need for him to be as truthful as he was being. “I was an asshole to you that day in study hour, but I feel like you put words in my mouth. It made me angry - livid, so I figured if you saw me as the bad guy, I might as well let myself play the part.”

“What words?”

“You said I inherently valued your work less because you’re a woman - it isn’t and never was true. I knew that whoever Aspen Lee was, she was a woman, or at least identifying as one, according to MIT’s gradebook. The part that I couldn’t believe was that you were already there, helping him. I heard the way you spoke to that student, the way you pointed out his mistake but didn’t make him feel bad for it but didn’t baby him either. You knew that you were right and were unapologetic about it, but not mean. I’ve spent my entire time in the STEM field learning to cope with being belittled and scolded for a mistake. I think it’s why I do so well in the army - it’s the same shit.

“The company I work for outside of the military wants me to recruit talent in coding, C++ specifically. When I first saw your work, I thought you had to be a graduate student. I think that belief, that refusal to admit that someone younger than me could be so good at something I do day in and day out, prevented me from finding you. I’ve been trying to figure out who you are for months now. Dr Muher refused to introduce us, said something like we were too alike and would either bite each other’s heads off or . . .” Scott trailed off and cleared his throat, blinking away whatever memory came with what he just said, “All of that being said, I understand why you took what I said the way you did, especially here, at this school, but I would never devalue someone’s work based on their gender. What you heard in my voice wasn't misogyny. It was jealousy.”

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Aspen, causing her to hide her face again. She spent so many hours burning with hatred over him only to be wrong. “I guess I’m so used to being seen as someone who’s here to meet a rich man then do nothing with my degree once I graduate that I struggle to see people’s true intentions. And, there’s nothing wrong with doing that, but I’m just so tired of people seeing me and thinking they know my future while my male peers get asked what their aspirations are. Dr Muher is such an inspiration for me, and I felt so betrayed by her, like she was doing exactly what everyone else had. When I was in elementary and high school, I was in a STEM magnet school, and I felt so out of place, but when I’d go visit my grandmother in Oklahoma over the summers, I felt like I couldn’t belong there either. So, I’m sorry for my reaction. I think a lot of my anger was projection. But I am not sorry for the emotions I felt after."

Scott nodded, taking in her words. He extended a hand, “Truce?”

She wiggled her hand back into the sleeve of his jacket and shook it. “Truce.”

The door creaked and the elevator rumbled after a man shouted what Aspen thought was gibberish or possibly a German sneeze. SNECF. Her head shot up while Scott was already fully up and standing. She followed suit. The doors started to pry apart, the butt of a crowbar sticking out; whoever was prying was grunting with the amount of force it took. Scott kicked his steel toe boot into the crack the man made and positioned himself to push one side out, forcing the mechanisms in the elevator to open the other as well. The face of a plump man in a fire suit peered down at them. He was belly down on the ground, only a small sliver of the elevator was open to the 3rd floor. The rest of the door was blocked by the shaft.

He reached his hand out and waved her up, “Come on, Miss. We’ll get you up first.”

She abandoned her belongings but tried to take the jacket off herself to hand back to Scott but he shook his head, nodding in the direction of the fireman. “Least of my worries right now, come on, get up.”

She understood this was not a time for joking, nor was she in the mood for it, watching as Scott held open her only exit with his body. Aspen lifted her hands and the man took hold of her forearms, pulling her up with the help of another fireman. When she made it out, she felt like she entered a sauna. The heater on the third floor was working overtime, and she was thankful for it. She breathed out a sigh of relief, but her brow knit when she noticed the man who helped the fire chief get her out pick up an industrial fire extinguisher and take a few steps back from the elevator.

All she could see was Scott’s head, but through a tiny sliver of mirror she had access to, she saw a million versions of Scott take a shaky breath and reposition himself in the elevator doors, starfishing himself through them, palms out against the doors. Aspen looked between the two firemen, one who was not helping and another who was face to face with Scott and only held a crowbar between the doors. She quickly made her way over to the doors, but before she could grab a door and help keep it open, the man with the fire extinguisher grabbed her by the oversized jacket and flung her into the opposite wall with his full force. Her temple collided with the drywall, the thin material crumbing around her head as she collided with the stud. Scott leveled him with a glaze that Aspen couldn’t tell was anger or thanks. “If you two aren’t going to help, at least let me.”

“It is too dangerous, Miss.” The man who grabbed her said.

“You guys said you wouldn’t get us until it was clear.” She rubbed at her temple, grimacing as she pulled back and saw her hand coated in red.

No one responded.

Scott hoisted his legs up, holding the doors open with nothing but his hands and the crowbar, his knees rising to his chest. He took a second to breathe before lifting his legs to the patch of floor and sliding his body out, belly down on the floor. The second he let go, the doors snapped the crowbar in half with a ferocious thunder. Then the elevator fell down the shaft with a deafening crack, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. Aspen quickly wrapped her hands around Scott’s bicep, helping him off the floor, opting to not mention the bloody handprint she left on his shirt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing cold.” Aspen immediately shrugged off his jacket and tried to hand it back to him. He dug in his pants pockets and pulled out a cloth, pressing it to her temple, hard. The two firemen were calling in the rest of UPD and whoever else the school deemed in need to handle the fallen elevator. The man who flung her earlier took position at one end of the hallway while the chief took position at the other to direct any passersby away.

He grabbed her by the shoulder with his free hand and walked her away from the gaping elevator shaft. He finally took his jacket from her as she took over applying pressure, sliding his arms through and trying not to react as the smell of cherry vanilla perfume filled his senses and as though there wasn’t a patch of her blood on the collar. Scott barely had time to zip his jacket back up before a man rounded the corner, shouting Scott’s name and title. It was clear he knew who was speaking; his feet shot together as he pivoted, his posture correcting itself, his chest puffing out, and his hands coming to his side.

Aspen took a step back as a man in his mid fifties approached. When he was about 6 steps away, he spoke again, “At ease, soldier.”

Scott’s hands came to rest behind his back and Aspen averted her eyes. It felt weird seeing Scott so obedient, so tame. Her wandering eyes found the elevator shaft; if she focused she could feel the cool breeze coming up it. It was pitch black in the gaping hole in the wall, the other elevator sitting pretty and untouched. No doubt there was caution tape already put up in the breezeway. She was certain that there would be crazy rumors about the incident on the school’s YikYak page.

But as she stared at the shaft, all her brain could play was different imagingings of Scott pulling himself out of there a second too late and going down with it. Her mind conjured up scenarios that made no sense: him headless, him bodiless, all different ways of him dead. All because he let her out first. She must’ve been staring for a while because when someone touched her arm, she blinked hard and turned to see Scott looking down at her.

“Sergeant Miller, bring this lady to an urgent care. No school affiliated doctors.” He turned to walk away but hesitated, turning back to Scott. “Get yourself checked too, while you’re there. Report back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She tried to protest, but his commanding officer had turned to another soldier who came up, giving orders.

“You okay?” He glanced between her and the elevator shaft.

She gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I think so. You really don’t have to bring me to urgent care. I’m fine. It’s just bleeding a lot because it’s on my temple.”

He pursed his lips, eyes flickering from hers to the drywall dust sitting in her hair and the roll of blood down her cheek. He didn’t think she was aware there was a strip of blood on the exposed stud. “I cannot ignore an order from a commanding officer.”

The urgent care physician had eyes the size of saucers when he was taking down the reason for this visit. He started with Scott who kept a clenched jaw and flared nostrils nearly the entire time. He received a clean bill of health and a hand written and signed note stating he was allowed to continue duty as needed. Aspen on the other hand was given a doctor’s note excusing her from classes for the rest of the week for a minor concussion, only after a few too-nosy questions.

“I do want you to avoid screens and long periods of staring at boards and notebooks, so I’ll write a note excusing you. But Miss, are you pregnant?”

“I was stuck in an elevator for four hours, not an orgy.” Aspen was annoyed. She had already told the nurse that she was not pregnant and had to deny a urine test.

Scott let out a choked sound in the back, but the doctor pushed. “Exposure to the cold for that long can have an effect on a fetus. Are you positive you’re not pregnant?”

Aspen let out a scoff of disbelief. “Exposure to the cold that long can have an effect on me. How many times do I have to say I’m not pregnant until I’m believed? So unless you’re about to get on your knees and pray over my virgin womb for the second coming of Christ, then just write the fucking note.”

Scott gave her the keys to his truck once the doctor finally discharged them. He swiped his card as she climbed into his passenger seat. He joined her a minute later, their printed visit notes in hand. He handed her hers and she glanced over it and snorted before reading out loud, “Miss Lee presents to the clinic today with complaints of a possible concussion and extended cold exposure. Voiced complaints of mild double vision, ringing in bilateral ears, and nausea. Denies any slurred speech. Upon examination has poor eye tracking ability and has laceration on left temple. Cleaned and bandaged.”

“Sounds normal.”

“Yeah, until: Patient is argumentative and vulgar. Pregnancy status remains unknown.”

Scott took his hand off the gearshift, turning to her. “No way.” He’d glanced over his report earlier and the doctor had referred to him as ‘pleasant,’ something he hadn’t been called since his great-grandmother was alive.

Aspen held out the paper for him.

“You’re sure?”

She let out a belly laugh, shaking the paper for him to grab, “I think we were one more ‘are you pregnant?’ away from you watching me have a pap smear. No, I don’t care if you look.”

Scott looked over the report, “I’m taking you to a different urgent care.”

She waved her hand to dismiss the idea, adjusting in her seat to try and escape the beaming sun that came from behind a cloud. He reached out and pulled down the visor before producing a pair of sunglasses. “I’m fine.”

“If MIT sees this, they’re going to try and weasel out of any blame. You need to see a doctor that isn’t going to write off valid points as you being argumentative.”

She inspected the sunglasses, trying to tell if they were actually going to stop UV rays. “If MIT wants me to piss in a cup to prove my unborn child didn’t stop the elevator, I will. But right now I just want my bed.”

“You need to see a-”

She turned to him, fast. “What I need right now is to be alone because quite frankly everytime I see your face my brain plays the sight of you almost dying this morning all because you let me out first. I am holding onto my composure with the thinnest thread of humor right now. Please just take me home.”

She turned back in her seat and put the sunglasses on, hoping it would hide the welling tears in her eyes. Scott didn’t quite know how to react, so he just let her direct him to an apartment building near campus. When he parallel parked, she took a deep breath and went to take the sunglasses off.

“Keep them.”

She lowered her hand back down. “I just realized all of our stuff was in that elevator.”

“I’ll see if anything was salvaged and see if I can get it to you. You have a way to get in?”

“Yeah, my roommates don’t have class until 10, so at least one should be there. I’m in that one.” She pointed to a window on the 3rd floor with a Christmas tree in the window despite the fact it was nowhere near the season for it. A beat of silence passed. Aspen couldn’t find the courage to look at him. “Thank you. For everything, I-”

He held his hand out. “Don’t.”

More silence followed that Aspen didn’t know if it meant she was to leave.

“See you next Monday?”

She gave a small smile before nodding, “Yeah, I guess see you next Monday.”

She was freshly showered and no longer smelling like Scott Miller’s stupidly attractive cologne. She swiped open her phone and lowered the brightness, busying her mouth with biting her thumb nail, and typed in what she hoped was the spelling of what she now knows was a command.

SNECF

Nothing besides a few Polish articles about sunscreen.

SNECF command

Nothing aside from dog training and a targeted ad about Polish sunscreen.

SNECF military

Jackpot. But in a bad way. Aspen locked her phone when she saw it and processed what it meant.

SAFETY NOT ESTABLISHED, CIVILIANS FIRST. This command is given amongst first responder and military personnel when a situation may be dire or serve as a threat to life and/or property, but civilians are present and informing them of said situation may cause panic that would worsen or in some way prohibit the ability of personnel to adequately perform safety evacuations or further assessments.

She saw Scott before the next Monday. He knocked on her door three days later. One of her roommates opened the door and waved him in. He wasn’t sure if that meant this girl had no sense of self preservation or if that meant Aspen had explained what he looked like - or possibly even shown the horrible photo of him on the MIT ROTC webpage - to them. The apartment was clean, if a little dilapidated. They had a small Roku TV as the centerpiece of the living room, a tapestry of a shirtless Marvel or DC or some other superhero pinned above the couch with thumbtacks. The area above the cabinets in the kitchen were decorated with empty liquor bottles. It reminded him of the house he shared in undergrad. “She’s in the room with the pink door.”

Sure enough, down the hall, there was a room with a hot pink door decorated with My Little Pony stickers. It didn’t seem to match any of the other door styles in the apartment and didn’t fit in the doorframe currently. The edges of it were sawed and sanded down poorly. He knocked.

Aspen’s voice responded. “Why’d you knock? Just come in.”

Scott assumed she thought he was one of her roommates. It wouldn’t have been fair to walk in. “It’s Scott.”

Shuffling ensued, but after a few moments the door opened to Aspen, still dressed in her pajamas. She gave an uneasy smile, “Hi.”

Scott held up her backpack and smirked, his dimple popping, as he tapped her door with his knuckle, “Hi Pinkie. I was able to convince UPD to give your things back from evidence.”

“My roommate’s boyfriend fell through my door, and I got the Landlord Special. Be careful, Pinkie Pie will give you a splinter.” She took her bag from his hand and opened the door more to let him in. She sat on the edge of her bed, motioning for him to sit wherever. He opted for her desk chair. Aspen pretended to not notice the way his legs spread and his arms crossed. “UPD has an evidence locker?”

“It was mostly confiscated scooters, but yes.”

“God, the only thing UPD does that benefits this campus is infiltrate the scooter gangs. I shouldn’t have to fear for my shins walking to class.”

“They do also save people from elevators.”

She snorted, still sorting through her bag to make sure everything was there and undamaged. “The fire department did that.”

“Then the fire department threw you into a wall so hard you cracked the drywall and got a concussion.”

“My mother would classify that as a symptom of my hard-headedness.”

“She’s got that right.” He muttered. Scott was met with an attempted pillow to the head. Instead, it grazed him and knocked down her pencil cup. He pivoted in the spinny chair to clean it up and to gather his thoughts as he was once again clouded by her scent. He should’ve just given the backpack to her roommate and left, but no - he needed to see her. And good thing he had.

“Just know that hit the other you I see.”

His brows furrowed. For a mild concussion, she should’ve been far on the mend by now. The weeklong excuse was liberal to ensure she was fully healed. “Still have double vision?”

He turned back to her after putting the cup back in order. She shrugged, placing her laptop back in its home at the charging dock on her nightstand. “Nothing worse, just continuous symptoms. double vision is only for stuff not in front of my face, though.”

“So most things on Earth?”

She placed a finger to her lips and shushed him. She went back to looking through her bag, squinting at different items such as chapstick and lip gloss. The room was only illuminated by a floor lamp by her bed, casting the entire room in a warm glow. That response wasn’t good enough for him; he stood from his spot and walked over to her, arms crossed as he hovered over her. When his shadow cast over her, she looked up, head tilting all the way back to take him in. He held a small flashlight in his hand that he produced from one of his many pockets. “Hello?”

“Let me see your eyes.”

She jokingly tucked her hair behind her ear. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Aspen.”

She gave a little pout but repositioned herself so her feet were touching the floor as he widened his stance to bring himself closer to her. He reached a hand out but stopped short of her jaw. “Are you okay if I touch you?”

She nodded, too nervous to give him her usual snarky comeback. She had curled herself into his jacket in a broken down elevator and was half asleep in his passenger seat after the urgent care, but this was somehow the most intimate moment the two shared. His hand was warm and calloused, rough against the skin Scott was sure she had a 10 step skin care regimen to maintain. He turned the small flashlight with the other hand to the lowest setting he could manage. He slowly ran the light over her eyes, watching her left pupil fail to shrink, staying wide. He tried to ignore the two butterfly bandages on her temple. When he finally let her go, she could barely see his jaw tense amidst the white splotches in her vision from the light. She blinked and looked around the room, trying to escape the splotches but they followed wherever she looked until they dissipated a few moments later.

“You need to go to the doctor again. A real office, not an urgent care. ER preferably.”

She huffed, “Not this again.”

“Really? ‘Not this again?’ Your concussion is bad. You need a CT scan.”

She laughed out loud at that; his expression stayed serious. She held her hands out around her room. “I can’t afford to live in an apartment where I have a normal bedroom door. You think I can afford an ER visit for them to tell me that I need to rest for the next couple of days?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No. I’m fine. And speaking of-” She reached to dig in her bedside drawer, producing a wad of twenties. She held it out to him. “For the urgent care copay.”

He shook his head, his arms crossed across his chest. “It was $60 dollars. And I’m definitely not taking your money for it when I think that doctor’s a total quack.”

She ran a hand through her hair, “Please take the money, Scott.”

“Not unless you go to the ER.”

She leveled him with a stare. “I’m not saying this to be difficult. I do not think I need to go to the ER. My symptoms haven’t gotten worse, just persisted, which isn’t unheard of from what my Harvard premed roommate tells me. They check on me periodically and make sure I haven’t asphyxiated in my own vomit. Please just take my word.”

He took a deep breath through his nose to ease his emotions. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned about this girl he considered his number one pain in his ass a mere 4 days ago. All he said was “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card that had his name and ROTC office phone and scribbled his personal phone number on the back and placed it on her nightstand, next to a full glass of water and a pack of gum. “Call if anything happens.”

She blinked at him, reclining back on her palms on the bed. “Where do you get these things from? A cloth, then a flashlight, now a business card? And you kept your wallet in your pocket and not in your duffle bag that day. Very convenient. Very Mystery Mousekatool of you.”

“It’s called being in the military. Everyone should have that on them, sans business card.” He took a seat back at the edge of the bed, showing he was only staying for a few more minutes.

Aspen nodded. “Speaking of being in the military, why’d you join?”

“As you so eloquently put it, my name’s not on a fucking building. And Kansas isn’t really known for its rich families who can send their kids to MIT as legacies.”

She sighed, understanding all too well. She readjusted to recline against her pillows. “Too bad you didn’t get stuck in an elevator before the recruitment officer found you. I got a refund check for the semester’s tuition already, along with a promise of all-costs-covered for the next three semesters.”

He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “You civilians have it so easy. I got a letter stating it was a ‘hazard of the job’ for me, so they will be providing a refunded copay for the urgent care visit that may take 6 to 8 weeks to process.”

She had to suck in her lips to keep from laughing out of shock. The two talked for another few minutes, Scott skirting the topic of what he reported back to his commanding officer (there was no way he was going to tell her that his captain asked how his “girlfriend” was doing and when informed that they were in no way a couple, was told “she should be - she makes you a lot nicer”). They got a few more subjects in before Scott noticed her responses getting slower and mumbled, her eyes fluttering open and closed, fighting sleep until she couldn’t. He quietly stood and turned her lamp off, making sure not to touch the edge of the door before he shut it behind himself.

The same girl he saw earlier was still in the kitchen, prepping her dinner. Another girl in maroon scrubs sat in the chair at the bar, a piece of pizza in one hand as she scrolled on her phone in the other. Both girls glanced at him when he closed the door before making eye contact with each other, having a silent conversation that Scott knew was about him. He figured if they were already talking about him, it didn’t hurt to interject. “Has she been doing okay?”

The first girl pointed her knife at the girl in scrubs, deferring to her. She put her pizza slice down in the box. She nodded as she finished chewing. “Yeah, for the most part. But if her symptoms stay this prominent for another day or two, I’m taking her to the ER.”

He raised his eyebrows, feigning as though he hadn’t tried to talk her into going a few minutes earlier. “ER?”

“I’m more concerned about the vomiting and nausea. She can’t keep anything down. I’m scared she’s dehydrated.”

“If she needs to go, call me, my number is on her nightstand. I’ll take her. I can tell them what happened.”

She tried to subdue her lifting brows and growing smirk. “Will do.”

Luckily, Aspen was on the mend the next day, her vision combining into one big picture again and her nausea slowly subsiding. She was back in class the next Monday and back in Dr Muher’s class for the first time in a while. Students murmured when she walked in, but settled quickly. She gave Scott a smile and took her usual spot four rows back and eight seats in. As Scott graded papers during the class, he found himself searching the faces of the massive class, continuing to land on Aspen’s, except instead of trying to incinerate the other with their gazes, she gave a small smile before turning back to the lecture. After everyone filed out, Dr Muher walked over to his desk, her heels clicking deafeningly on the tile floors. “I told you so.”

Scott fixed her with one of his famous glares.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Just remember what I said, you’ll-”

He shooed her away with his hand. “‘-either bite each other’s heads off or get married.’ Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

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