#i love making images small it makes me laugh

[valentine-cafe]

Thinking about 781 Alessio getting pegged by afab reader.. Wanna see how bratty he gets while yk yk..

I NEED TO SEE THAT TOP GET TOPPED NOWWW

˖⁺. “ wanna bet ? ” : 

﹙ bttm merc boyfiend x top fem reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 alessio x fem reader !! 🍒  : ﹙ mercenary  ˖ immortal ˖ bad boy character ﹚

your boyfriend loses a bet to you and now is subjected to your pegging once more

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ pegging ˖ rough sex ˖ praise ˖ degradation ˖ manhandling ˖ handjob ˖ whiney alessio <3 | wc : 2.5k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: you are soooo valid for this ouuughhh thank you for this - as I always say - TOP THAT TOP !!

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

The shuffling below you persists.

Alessio had lost his bet and now, he was complaining about his loss. trying to evade his inevitable doom . . . the strap.

“Al— Alessio. Alessio—” Groaning out, you hold the man’s hips tight and shove him into the bed. Gritted teeth move to his ear and through them comes your voice: “You lost the bet, now stop squirming.”

All you get in response? a groan of frustration, packed with the sound of betrayal.

“You thought you’d win, I get it.” You sigh, leaning down against him to press your chest against his naked back to put the rest of your body weight down on him. While he maxed you out in that too, it make him go still a bit quicker.

Finally, was he going to listen???

“This is fuckin’ foul play.” he mumbles and huffs. You haven’t even gotten the strap inside of him yet.

While you would laugh normally at his pouty behavior, there was a tinge of irritation crawling up. and with it, even more arousal.

“Hey. Take the loss. It’s not the first time I’ve topped you! Come on!” It comes out as a whine, but at this point you couldn’t care. With a roll of his head, he looks back at you.

“You look like a wet cat when you look at me like that,” You crack, snorting at the image below you. “I never get to peg you. Alessio, please?”

His voice only comes out as a small groan and whine, head dramatically flopping down on the pillows. Black strands of hair draping around the fabric of the pillow.

“Fine.”

“You are acting like a sore loser.” After your little snicker, you adjust slightly, biting at your lip as you attempt to focus.

Until the asshole decides to shift a bit again. With a shit eating grin on his face. A frown takes yours in exchange and instead of shoving him down or whatever else your hands itched to do. Instead you give him a bit of a pout yourself and push yourself up onto your hands with a sigh.

“Come on ‘essio,” you exhale. A soft hand threads into his black hair. Combing out minimal knots and stroke some strands behind his ear. Before giving it a little kiss. “I just wanna make you feel good baby. . . please?”

It’s such a tender tone of voice. One that twists a chord within him and sends his nerves into a bit of a titter. Damn you. Damn you and all your soft-lover-softness.

A deep breath intakes his lungs. His heart squeezes at the kind gestures followed by the earnest words. By the gods, this man is in love with you. And you know it. The way that his shoulders slump and he lets out a long, exaggerated sigh before easing his hips into the pillow you placed below them — speaks for itself.

“Alright, querida. Alright.” Green eyes cast you a little look over his shoulder. One that speaks his vulnerability into words before his arms reach up and hug around his plush pillow. “You always make me feel good baby.” He mumbles into the fabric. Looking on ahead, as though the headboard was most interesting.

You smile. Knowing well it’s to hide his fluster. So you of course make it a little worse by giving his ass a small spank. Chuckling at his light yelp and string of Italian curses.

Your attention turns back to the strap fastened around you. You’d already lubed up the toy and him - but it wouldn’t hurt for good measure, right? Your hand grasps the bottle and pops it open, lathering another slew all over the toy and slowly biting your lip at the motion.

You’d admit. It was quite arousing. Coupled with the situation - you feel your clit throb against the little nub that is on the other side of the trap, flushed against you. Oh that is going to be fun once you’re fucking him.

“You lubing again?” He questions, tone pitched and brow arched.

“Know you’ve got tons of bottles around here anyway, I can waste a bit.”

He huffs at your joke and lightly groans as your fingers slip past his hole. Giving him another round of feeling around and making sure he’s open enough for you. Before you slip both hands to his muscular thighs and give a small squeeze.

“Ready?”

There is a moment of silence that covers the room like a duvet. You only get to tilt you head, before you hear the shaky: “Yeah,” emit from the man’s throat.

The soft smile that previously inhabited your lips turns into a grin. Your hips bringing themselves forward while you spread his asscheeks, rubbing the strap against the needy hole to make sure he is ready to take you.

It was quite clear he was about to make a small statement that it was okay and you could go— but before he got to, you had begun entering him slowly. Your clit throbbing hard when you heard the groan mixed moan that reverberated through the room. His thighs tensing against your hands.

“Fuck.” He hisses out, biting his lip, while doing everything he possibly could to not begin bucking up against you. “F— fuck— quer-querida!”

Oh and his moans, they were always so beautiful. You couldn’t help the stutter of your hips, and the small thrust you gave. Heavy breaths leaving your lungs, while you hold him close to you.

“Fuck Alessio, you are tensing like you haven’t been fucked by a strap before.” The small chuckle does not go unheard, and he can all help but whine at it. Too flustered to know what to say. Ears burning an almost crimson colour.

His fingers curl into the black casing and he presses his face into it as well. There’s a beat of silence as you begin slow, shallow thrusts. As though both of you knew that you weren’t going to be gentle. Not unless he asked.

You knew he’s always been one for the rough-loving in any case.

Slowly, your lips press down the back of his neck, down his upper spine before you slowly move your lips to his ear and kiss around the shell. So tender. So fake. With hands trailing up his sides in an affectionate manner, you murmur so gently to his ear.

“You might wanna hold onto that pillow baby.”

The man who’s always got a comeback barely gets a word in before you are using your strength to shove his hips into the mattress and start roughly humping yours. Fast. Hard. Just the way that you know he likes it.

The sudden shift widens his eyes and the cry that he lets out against the pillow is oh so sweet. That’s what he gets for being a sore loser. As if you have any intention of apologising, you reach around to palm along his dick. Softly. As though your hips are not battering against his ass wildly and pulling a series of desperate noises from his lips.

“Qu- Quer - i-ida-! Dios I can’t -”

And yet despite it his hips are trying tp fuck back into you. The sight has you grinning wider. Here he is. Whining about it being too much but so desperately chasing your fake dick. As if he’s eager to have his ass constantly brimmed with it.

“Whatever you say,” you muse. Reaching up to ruffle his already tousled hair. Before curling your fingers into it and using the leverage to fuck him with more intensity. Angling your hips and giving stuttered thrusts when you pull out halfway - if only to slam back in and pound him shallowly. Taking his breath and making him hiccup if only to inhale deeply and whine.

“F-Fuck -”

“Take it so well, who knew you were so good at taking cock huh?”

Your laugh above him would have gotten you a glare if it weren’t for your hips battering down on his ass. Quick, tempered slams filled with all the retribution for all of the times that he has had you in this exact same position -

His fingers curl around the pillow casing. His back arches as you shove a hand into his messy black hair and bury his face into the fabric. Fuck into him harder with your fake dick that has his eyes crossing to the ceiling. “F-F - hnng - hahh ngh! P-Please f-. . . fuck no please,”

Alessio’s sob into the pillow when your pace slows sends all sorts of shivers up your spine. It shoots straight to your head. A part of you wishes it was actually your dick. So that you could feel him clenching up around it. Another reminder of just how much of a bottom he can be when he finally relinquishes his power and control.

Your fingers curl into those messy locks before pulling his head back. You make sure to buck your hips firm yet slow into his ass. Chuckling at the way he squirms and tries to fuck back into you.

“Please? Please what baby? You want me to fuck you harder? Yeah?”

Slowing down your pace and listening to the way he begins whimpering for you to go fast again, you yank at his hair and bring his back close to your chest, while your hips grind hard into his ass. The faux dick rubbing against one of those good nerve bundles that has your boyfriend squirting with a bit of pre-cum.

“Say it.” You groan into his shoulder and bite, while a pair of fingers move to pinch at his right nipple. Hips thrusting slowly and shallowly against him. It is torture, you know it is. That’s why it’s fun.

“Ah! — aAH—gnhh! ” Gasps escape him, and they serve as a symphony to your ears. But it isn’t enough, is it?

“I wa— Ah! I wa-ngh—t you t-to—” Midway through the sentence, a moan rips out of his throat, before he continues: “fuck me harder— p-por- Por fa—favor— Querida!! ”

Oh, it has your breath stuttering and hitching, the slight taste of iron in your mouth begins to form, while you breathe hard, fucking him into the bedsheets with a new vigor. His dick twitches, and another squirt of cum bursts out of him, painting the bedsheets and his abdomen white. While his head drops and he pants. Sweatdrops dripping onto the bed.

As the rhythm between the two of you continue. You look down at him and give him a small chuckle, hand gripping at his jaw to make him look at you.“Open.” You murmur, tongue licking across his bottom lip.

It took little time for him to figure out what you were trying to do. And to deny your request in this moment? That would get him nowhere. So he opens his mouth, and allows a choked moan to escape him while you spit into it. Watching as he swallows it greedily, his prominent adam’s apple bobbing with a stutter.

“Yeah you like that don’t you? Fuckin whore.”

Your hips snap against his all the way. Making sure the toy’s buried to the hilt and you are pressing up against that spot that has him bucking his hips greedily into the pillow down below. A soft slew of sobs and chokes leaving his as his body tenses.

With a deep exhale and a grunt of effort, you slowly ease out of him before tapping on his thigh. “Turn over baby. Let me see you.” There was no way you’d be able to do the job yourself, as much as you wished to manhandle him. So instead you settle for him turning over shakily. Those emerald eyes that you love are shut tight.

So you stroke a hand along his face. Rub your thumb on his cheekbone and lean down to press soft kisses to his lips. “Look at me,” you mutter. Watching as his brows twitch. The muscles around his eyes slowly easing - but he’s taking too damn long.

You decide to give him some encouragement. Pushing back into him roughly and jamming your hips into his a few times, shallowly. Your jaw tight as you murmur above him in a strained, sweet tone. “Said open. Your eyes.”

The immediate response makes you smile and you reward him with a few soft kisses. Caressing his face as though you aren’t pounding the poor thing into the sheets. Making him whine and moan your name along with various other gibberish you cannot even begin to decipher.

All that matters is that you’re making him feel good. Your free hand joins the agreement by reaching down and cupping at his throbbing, weeping cock. Roughly jerking along to make him squirt all over once more. Arch his back so that the angle gives you the perfect opportunity to fuck him sore.

He cries again. A blush clear on his face, as he tries to keep his eyes on yours. It’s too fucking hard, they keep crossing. And you only laugh at the pitiful attempts of which he performs.

After a bit of grinding into his sore ass, you angle yourself and begin to roughen up your calculated thrusts. Trying to hold on as long as possible with the small part of the strap that taps against your clit. Pulling cum out of you more than you realise.

Your hand mercilessly stroke away at his dick. Until eventually, with the last thrust of your hips and your fingers pinching around the throbbing tip. Your pace slows as orgasms crash over him. His head thrown back into the pillows and blankets. While he moans loudly.

“That’s it— That’s it good boy” You pant, whining out. Watching as he paints your hand white, and you choke out a few moans along the line from how much your puffy clit is pinching and throbbing.

He looks up at you with his fucked-out gaze, admittedly he could go for much more, but he also wanted to check and make sure all was alright with you.

“F-fuck— hahh, mgh- thank— thank you, fuckin hell.” After catching his breath and gazing into your eyes. He watches you slowly pull out of him, the whines that emit from him make you wish that you had more stamina.

“Just. . . gods, let me catch my breath,” you murmur and wipe away the spit from your chin, while licking away at the cum stained hand after. The eye contact intense. “And then we get on to round two, yea?”

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[cyarikaplease]

wreck my plans, that’s my man

din djarin x f!reader

summary: You’re the daughter of a senator on Coruscant and you’ve been set up in an arranged marriage to another senator’s son for both your father and his father’s political gain. Your father hires Din Djarin to transport you to Naboo where you’re supposed to meet your fiancé’s family and prepare for the wedding. On the trip to Naboo you form a relationship together in secret but after you arrive on Naboo he’s hired to be your bodyguard up until the wedding. But will you actually go though with the wedding? That’s for you and Din to decide.

You gaze down at the sea of speeders beneath you as you stand on your balcony on Coruscant. The industrialized planet is a far cry from your home, Savareen. You never thought in your wildest dreams you would miss the deserts and the oceans of your home planet but now that you moved to Coruscant you’re missing it now more than ever. Your father decided he wanted a career in politics so he moved your family to Coruscant. You definitely could live on your own back home but your father wanted everyone together for his “political image” or whatever. 

You hear your father calling your name behind you so you look over your shoulder to find him and an unknown man standing across the room. 

“I want to introduce you to Senator Lokato,” he says. 

You turn to walk over to them, and notice that Senator Lokato is wearing the typical senator “uniform”; dark colored robes that go all the way down to the floor. Senator Lokato’s are a dark gray and your father’s are navy blue. It’s weird seeing your father trying to fit in with these types of people. 

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” you say awkwardly, not really understanding what your business was with him.

“I know you’ve been struggling to make friends and meet others your age here so we thought you’d like to meet his son.”

“...Okay,” you say hesitantly, following them down the hallway and into your parent’s living room. 

There’s a man sitting on the couch who you can only assume is Senator Lokato’s son. He’s about your age, maybe a few years older. He rises when he sees you and walks to meet you in the middle of the room. 

“I’m Valsi. Pleased to meet a lovely lady like yourself,” he says, giving you a suggestive smirk. 

Maybe you would be flattered by his forward nature if he weren’t so… plain looking. He’s a little taller than you, a tad muscular and just so… plain. He’s got the kind of eyes that are just soulless and he bares a striking resemblance to his father. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” you offer politely. 

“Well, we’ll let you two get to know each other,” Senator Lokato says, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, have fun you two!” your father says a bit too cheerily before leaving with Lokato.

“Please, sit,” Valsi says… in your own home. 

You sit on the couch, keeping your body language tight and uninviting. The more you see of this guy the more you realize you’re not gonna want anything to do with him.

“I’m not sure what your father has told you but I have family on Naboo. We could raise the children there, of course. We can bring them to visit Savareen, too. But… a more civilized place like Naboo is better. And Coruscant is too busy for small children. Maybe we could relocate here when they’re older? But-”

“Excuse me?” you ask. You were zoning out at the sound of his monotone voice until he started mentioning children. 

“Well of course we’re going to have children?” he says, in a tone that makes it sound like you’re the stupid one.

“Of course we’re going to have children? We don’t know each other. I literally just met you today,” you snap back.

“Oh, I see. Your father didn’t tell you. We’re getting married.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m getting married to you,” you laugh.

“You can laugh all you want but our fathers already made a deal. We get married in a month,” he says, folding his arms.

The realization is settling in. Your father was trying to get you to “make friends” alright. He’s trying to sell you off to some man for his own political game. You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since your father has become a member of the Senate he’s been obsessed with perfecting his image and gaining more public approval.

“You might be okay being a puppet for your father but I’m certainly not,” you snap, getting up and storming over to the door. 

As you enter the hallway you see your father and Lokato who were clearly listening in on your interaction. You scoff at them both and stomp off your bedroom.

“She’ll come around,” you hear your father say softly before closing the sliding door behind you. 

You fall into your bed and start crying; the weight of everything hitting you all at once. Between being forced to leave your home planet, moving to a strange new place and now all of a sudden being shoved into an arranged marriage you’re feeling completely hopeless. 

Eventually you drift off to sleep, your own tears aiding you in the process. Your dreams are filled with your home planet and of travels all on your own, with no one forcing you to go anywhere or do anything. It almost feels too real because when you wake up you forget the horrors of reality for a moment. 

You get changed into a silky pale blue dress before returning to the living room. That was another thing about your father’s new found political life; your wardrobe was completely different. Gone were the days of flowy pants, boots and earth tones. Now your wardrobe consists of extravagant gowns, robes and jewelry. It’s all very beautiful and maybe just maybe you could enjoy your new look if it wasn’t being forced upon you. 

You find your father sitting on the couch, reading something on his holo-pad. When he notices your presence he looks up and shoots you a faux sympathetic glance. You sit on the opposite end of the couch silently, not even knowing what to say to the man who’s trying to strip you of your bodily autonomy. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. I just think this is what’s best for us. The Lokatos are very well off. You’ll be set for life,” he says, setting the holo-pad down on the table in front of him.

“You’re forcing me to marry someone I don’t know… let alone even love! I really don’t care how rich they are,” you say, folding your arms. 

“It’s for the best. Especially if you want to maintain this new lifestyle that you’ve become accustomed to.”

“You mean the one that you forced upon us? If I were up to me I would be home right now,” you fight back.

He sighs, not looking to listen to any more of your protests. 

“Look, Valsi left today to go visit his family on Naboo. After he gets some business sorted there you’re going to meet him. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ve hired someone to take you there, some Mandalorian. You leave tomorrow.”

You scoff and get up, retreating to your room where you go to bed again, wallowing in your own sadness until you decide to pack for the next day. Your parents call you for dinner but you decline, not wanting to see them but also too upset to eat. You go to bed that night and have a dream that this Mandalorian takes you anywhere else but Naboo. It’s a shame really. You’ve heard how beautiful Naboo is and under any other circumstances you’d be jumping at the chance to go. But when you’re going under the pretense of meeting your arranged husband and his family, you can think of a million other places you’d rather be. 

You wake up the next morning and get ready for your journey, the nerves brewing in your stomach. You meet your father in the living room again without saying a word to him. He sends for a servant to collect your bag before leading you to the docking bay. You don’t say a word to him the whole way there. He makes attempts at small talk, telling you how much you’re going to love Naboo and how you’re going to have such a good time. But you can’t be bothered to entertain him. 

You reach the docking bay and in front of you is a large ship; a Razor Crest your father tells you. The exit ramp opens and that’s when you see him walking towards you; a Mandalorian in full beskar, silver and shiny. He has a sort of confidence about him when he walks that commands the attention of anyone nearby. 

“Mando!” your father says happily as he stops in front of the both of you, “Thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“Half the credits, the other half after the job is done, right?” he says, making no time for pleasantries. His modulated voice scratches an itch in your brain you didn’t know was there. 

“O-of course,” your father stutters, pulling out a small bag from his robes. 

The Mandalorian takes it and nods with a slight tip of his helmet. 

“Let’s go,” he says curtly, turning and walking back towards the Razor Crest. 

He seems… unpleasant. And you’re going to have to spend several days with him alone holed up in this ship. Great. 

Your father goes for a hug but you rebuff him, walking to the ship without looking back. The servant follows with your bags and drops them off before leaving. The Mandalorian closes the exit ramp and retreats to the cockpit without saying a word. You follow him and sit in the passenger seat. You watch him prepare the ship for takeoff while he doesn’t say a single word to you. So offer some conversation.

“So… Do you always do stuff like this?” you ask.

“Stuff like what?” he replies, not looking at you.

“Transporting people around.”

“No. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Really? How’d you get roped into this?”

“Credits,” he says plainly.

“Hope that it was worth it…” you grumble under your breath.

He turns his seat around and the T-shaped visor practically burns a hole into you. You can’t see his face but you can feel his stone cold gaze and it sends shivers through you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re taken aback. Is he actually offended by your snide little comment?

“You’re bringing me to Naboo to meet my soon-to-be husband. The whole thing is a forced, arranged marriage. Did you know that?” you say defensively, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, I don’t ask questions like that. All I need to know is that I’m bringing a princess to Naboo and how much I’ll be paid.”

“I’m not a princess,” you scoff.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he says, turning to face the control panel again.

You let out an exasperated sigh and he finishes preparing the ship for takeoff. He straps himself in and asks if you’re strapped in, too. 

“You buckled up, princess?” 

“Yup.”

He takes off and you look at Coruscant below as you leave, pretending you’re going anywhere you want and not with some grumpy Mandalorian. 

Once you’ve left the atmosphere you ask, “So how long is it going to be until we get to Naboo?”

“About seven standard days,” he says nonchalantly.

Great. Seven days of being holed up in this cramped ship with him. 

He makes the jump to lightspeed and you’re enveloped in a cool blue glow.

“You can unbuckle now. I’ve set an auto pilot course for Naboo. We shouldn’t need to stop for fuel if all goes well.”

Pretty much as soon as he said the word “unbuckle” you were leaving the cockpit to go stretch your legs. You only half listened to the rest of what he’s saying. To be honest, you don’t really care for him. 

You pace up and down the storage area of the Crest for what feels like forever, wondering what kinds of weapons and gadgets he has stowed away in there. You sit on some crates and mess around on your holo-pad for a while. It’s really fucking boring and Mando isn’t one for small talk. 

He keeps to himself mostly, periodically checking in on you as you keep yourself entertained. He doesn’t really have an opinion on you just yet. He assumes you think he doesn’t like you but that’s just how he is with everyone; a little standoffish. He watches you as you pace the storage area and tries to ignore the way your hips sway when you walk; or the way your brows furrow when you read something on your holo-pad. You’re just so… cute to him, in your pretty dress that hugs your figure perfectly. In all honesty, he feels bad for you, too. Once he learned you were set to be in an arranged marriage his apathy towards you started shifting into something else. 

Eventually it’s the end of the first day cycle and he realizes you should probably get to bed soon. He sits beside you on a crate you’re reading your holo-pad on and says gently, “You need to sleep.”

He half expected a snarky response or some form of protest from you but you just yawn and let out a soft, “Okay.”

He leads you to the cot across the room in a little cubby. 

“It’s a little small but it should be alright for you,” he says.

“What about you? Where are you going to sleep?” you ask. 

His chest gets tight over your concern for him. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” you ask, not letting it go.

“...The floor? Or maybe in one of the seats in the cockpit,” he says reluctantly. 

“That’s ridiculous. Just sleep in here with me.”

His mind is spinning at the thought of sleeping on the cot with you. But he also wants to respect your personal space. You’re engaged to someone else whether it’s arranged or not.

As if you could read his mind you say, “We’re both adults here. I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. 

You excuse yourself to the refresher to change into your pajamas; a soft oversized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. He removes his armor and weapons in the meantime, leaving only his flight suit and his helmet on. You crawl into the cot with him and it’s a tight squeeze. You figure out the most comfortable position is him spooning you, his large arm draped over your side. You get a glimpse of his gloveless hand and make a mental note of his skin tone; the only indication you have of what he looks like underneath all the beskar. It’s large and calloused, most likely from years of working with his hands. 

“So… Do you ever take the helmet off?” you ask. 

“Only when I’m alone.”

“So if I wasn’t here right now, you could take it off,” you say, feeling guilty. 

He doesn’t say anything. If he answers with a yes you’re just going to feel bad. And it isn’t your fault. He chose to follow the creed. 

“I should sleep somewhere else. Just so you can take that thing off and have a chance to really breathe,” you say, starting to get up.

His arm around you tightens. He doesn’t want you to leave. It’s nice having someone else to lay with; to sleep with, regardless of the fact you’re engaged to someone else. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says softly, “I’m used to it.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes, mesh’la. Go to sleep.”

Mesh’la? What does that mean? You feel sleep overtaking you so you decide to ask in the morning. You drift off to sleep with the sounds of his modulated breathing soothing you.

He wakes up before you and admires how peaceful you look, eyes closed and lashes fanned out against your face. He could stay there for a while, taking in all of your beauty but he needs to get up and check on the autopilot. He gets out of the cot; careful to not disturb you. He replaces his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. He checks to make sure the Crest is still on course and tries to ignore the excitement brewing in his stomach.

You wake up in the morning and he’s gone. You’re shocked for a moment but then you remember he’s probably just in the cockpit. You get up and stretch before going to meet him in the cockpit. The blue light whizzing by around you makes it feel like it’s not morning; like no time has passed. You sit in one of the passenger seats, not saying a word to him. 

“How did you sleep?” he asks softly. 

“Good… How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he says awkwardly. 

“Okay well… I think I’m gonna use the refresher?” you say, more so in an asking tone. 

“Go right ahead,” he says, turning his seat to face you. 

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in his helmet and notice your bedhead. Feeling embarrassed you retreat to the refresher and spend a while in there, letting the warm water soothe you. You change into a new dress when you’re done, this one lower cut than the one from yesterday. You step out of the refresher and back into the storage area, almost bumping right into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize. 

But he doesn’t say a word, admiring your beauty once again; fresh faced with wet hair… and of course the hint of cleavage peeking out from your dress. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? you wonder, Did I do something to upset him?

“Y-you should eat,” he says, tripping on his words ever so slightly.

“Okay…You should, too.”

“Okay,” he says, turning to grab some rations for both of you.

“We just have to eat separately,” he says.

“Of course! Where do you want me?”

Against me, under me, he thinks to himself.

“You stay out here. I’ll go on the cot and shut the door,” he says.

You nod and he hands you your ration before going into the cubby and closing the door. You sit on the floor and lean back against it, wanting to feel close to him for some strange reason… And then you realize your own apathy towards him is melting away and changing into something else, too. But you can’t put your finger on what.

He sits on his cot and removes his helmet. You can hear the hiss of the modulator through the door and your mind races with ideas of what he looks like. 

“I’m against the door… I just wanted it to feel like we were eating together.”

His heart flutters. “That’s okay, mesh’la,” he says, using the nickname subconsciously. 

“No more princess, huh?” you tease, but also listen carefully to his helmetless, unmodulated voice. 

He almost chokes on his food at your boldness. “Well uh, you said you weren’t a princess…”

“That’s right. I’m not. But what does mesh’la mean?”

He has two options. He could tell you the truth… or he could lie. What are the chances of you meeting another Mandalorian anyway? But he doesn’t want to lie to you of all people. You deserve someone who’s honest and good to you.

“It’s… Mando’a for beautiful,” he says, wincing at your response. At least, you can’t see how flustered he’s getting. 

“Oh… thank you, Mando,” you respond. That’s the first time you’ve used any sort of nickname to address him. And he takes note of that.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“No! Not at all. You’re very sweet.”

He relaxes a bit and you two talk while you eat, getting to know each other a bit more. You could sit and listen to his unmodulated voice tell you stories for hours. But eventually you’re both done eating and you hear him get up. You stand up, too and hear the hiss of the modulator once again. He opens the door and you both stare at each other for a moment, both surprised at your connection and concern for one another. He goes back up to the cockpit and sits in the pilot seat. You grab your holo-pad and follow him, sitting in one of the passenger seats in silence. Except this time, it’s a comfortable silence. And that was the start of Mando’s mysterious, protective nature breaking down the walls you put up around you. 

You fall into a routine during the rest of your traveling days. You sit in the cockpit together in comfortable silence. You sleep pressed up against each other. Your touch and gaze begin to linger. You grow more and more comfortable with each other; so comfortable that you almost forget you’re on your way to meet your fiancé and his family. 

But at night when you’re sleeping in Mando’s arms you don’t have a care in the world. You’ve grown so accustomed to sleeping with him that you know you’ll miss this when it’s over. It’s the same position every night, your back flush against his chest and his arm around your waist. And also… his hard length pressed against your butt and lower back. He wasn’t hard the first night most likely because he was so nervous. But as you both grew more comfortable you noticed the hardness more and more. You’ve never said anything about it. You didn’t want to embarrass him. 

But now it's your last night together. You’ll arrive on Naboo in the morning and your time together will be over. And you’ve come to the conclusion that you want Mando. Even if you won’t have him again after tonight. So when his cock goes hard against your back you push your butt into him, taking him by surprise. 

“...What are you doing, mesh’la?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” you ask suggestively. 

“But you’re engaged, mesh’la,” he says quietly, defeated even.

“But I don’t want him, Mando. I don’t even know him. I was forced into this blindly. And if I have to go be with him tomorrow… I want one last good time; one last good night with you.” 

“Okay, mesh’la. Anything for you.”

And with his approval you’re pushing your butt back into him as his bare hand grabs your hip. He pulls into you, cock pressing hard against you as you ache for more touch. You rest your back on the cot and he takes the opportunity to hover over you. His hand trails up your thigh and hooks onto the waistband on your shorts. He pulls them off in one swift motion before spreading your thighs apart. His large fingers tease your entrance which was getting wetter by the second. He swept his fingers up your core, marveling how ready you were for him. He brings his thumb to your clit before moving the helmet against your face so could whisper in your ear. 

“I bet you wanted this every night, didn’t you mesh’la?”

You whimper in response, the featherlight touch of his fingers driving you insane. 

“Please. I need more.”

“What’s that?” he teases, “Are you begging for me, cyar’ika?”

You’re too horny and frustrated to retain any sort of pride now so you nod, begging even more.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Mando, I need more.”

He plunges his index finger into you without warning, working your walls as your moans fill the small space.

“Look at you, cyar’ika. Already a mess just from one finger,” he purrs.

“What does that one mean? you ask. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear just as he slips in another finger eliciting a loud moan from you. 

He curls them upwards and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You feel your muscles tense up in anticipation of relief and you know you’re close to finishing. 

“I’m close, Mando,” you whine. 

“Din,” he says. 

“Hmm?” you ask, too far gone to form a complete question. 

“My name is Din, Din Djarin. Call me by my name when you cum, cyar’ika.”

All you can do is whimper in response. But that isn’t good enough for him. He stops swirling his thumb around your clit and slows his fingers inside of you. 

“What was that, cyar’ika?” he teases, moving his fingers painstakingly slow. 

“Y-yes, Din,” you say in between labored breaths. 

“Good girl,” he praises before picking up the pace again. 

Your hands grip the edges of the cot for purchase as you roll your hips against him, desperate for his complete touch. He rests on the back of his heels and brings his hand to your abdomen, right above where his fingers are inside you and where your g-spot is. He pushes his fingers against it inside you and presses down on your abdomen ever so gently, pleasuring your g-spot internally and externally. Between the three different spots of stimulation you’re at the brink of orgasm again. And this time he lets you have it, making a mess beneath you on the cot and soaking his hand down to his wrist.

“Din, I’m coming,” you moan, arching your back up against him. 

“That’s right, cyar’ika. Cum on my fingers. Just like that,” he says, bringing his helmet by your ear once more. 

Your cunt convulses around his fingers in rhythmic waves before eventually stopping. He watches you writhe in pleasure and feels a sense of pride knowing he got you to cum hard like that. He waits until you’re finished before pulling them out of you; you whine at the sudden absence. 

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. I’m gonna take care of you,” he says before leaning back and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. 

He slicks his cock with your release and you spread your legs wider to accommodate how broad he is. He grabs your hand as he pushes into you. You gasp at his length, filling you completely. He buries his cock into you down to the hilt and showers you with praise. 

“You take my cock so good, cyar’ika,” he says as he stretches your walls.

His other hand moves to your tit, thumbing around your nipple and worrying into a stiff peak. It pulls a deep moan from prompting him to explore your body and learn just what makes you melt. His eyes are locked with yours, even though you can’t see his. He tears away his gaze for a moment to look down at your cunt and the way it grips his cock moving in and out of you. He curses at the sight, mesmerized by it before fucking you relentlessly. You feel your core tense up again before washing you over with the biggest wave of relief. You know he’s at the edge, too. He goes to pull out but you don’t want him to, not ready for the fullness you’re feeling to go away. 

“I have an implant,” you say quickly.

And with that he drives his hips into you one last time before releasing his load into you, coating your insides. He cums with a loud groan, spilling out of the helmet. He lays down, keeping you inside him and pulls you against his chest. 

“You’re amazing, cyar’ika,” he purrs, hand trailing up and down your figure. 

You sigh happily in response. He goes to pull out but you stop him, telling him you want to fall asleep like this. He relaxes and settles against you, wrapping your arm around your waist. 

“Thank you for that, Din,” you whisper. 

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” he whispers back as sleep overtakes you both. 

You wake up to the sensation of his cock hardening inside you. You let out an involuntary moan and move your ass against him. He grinds back into you before waking up fully, hand gripping your waist tightly. You move back and forth with each other in a perfect rhythm, your ass colliding with his groin, plunging his cock into you as deep as it can go. He reaches forward and parts your legs slightly so he can rub your clit. You moan and lean back against his strong chest while he fucks you; the dual sensation taking you to the edge quickly. You cum simultaneously, pulling every last drop out of him as your cunt flutters around his cock. You’re feeling fuller than ever, between his length and having taken two of his loads. You’re going to miss this feeling so much. You’ve only had sex twice now and you’re already missing the feeling of him inside you. 

“You’re so dirty, cyar’ika,” he muses, hands roaming your body again, “Going to another man, full of my cum.”

“And wishing it was you,” you whine. 

“I know,” he whispers, “At least I got to experience this with you.” 

“Yeah…” you trail off, the realization of today settling in. 

“I guess I should go get ready,” you sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything but you can feel him exhale behind you. You lift yourself up out of the cot and strip your pajamas. He sits up on the cot and admires your naked form in front of him, fearing it’s the last time he’ll ever see it. He wishes he could just rip off the helmet and take an unobstructed mental image but he knows he can’t. You go get dressed for the day, feeling so angry and defeated about your situation that you don’t bother to shower and wash him off of you. If you’re going to walk into an arranged marriage you’re going to do it encapsulated in the scent of your lover and filled with his cum. 

Din reattaches his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. You gather your things and meet him there, sitting in the passenger seat silently. The gloom of the situation permeated the space and both of you were feeling it. This time the silence is sad and lonely instead of comfortable like it had been for the past several days. 

Naboo comes into view and you gasp at the lush planet. Why does this beautiful place have to hold such terrible implications? Din watches the way your face lights up as you admire the scenery. He received coordinates where to land prior to leaving and heads there. One the Crest is stationary and he gets up to help you with his bags, pulling you into one final hug before lowering the exit ramp. 

“Take care, ner alor’ika.”

“Hmm, what does that one mean?” you ask against his chest plate. 

“My princess,” he says softly, moving his hand to the small of your back. 

He pulls away and lowers the exit ramp. You see the unfortunately familiar face of Valsi and an older lady who can only assume is his mother. You walk down the exit ramp with Din as he carries your bags.

Valsi’s mom greets you with a cheery hello. She starts rambling on about how excited is to show you around. Din sets your bags down on the ground and Valsi calls for a servant to collect them before taking your arm. They lead you away and you look over your shoulder to get one final glimpse at him before he turns and walks to the crest, the exit ramp closing behind him. A pit forms in your stomach as you hear his engines power up. 

Valsi’s grip on your arm is tight and constricting as his mother shows you around. It really is a beautiful place; high vaulted ceilings decorated with elaborate paintings supported by strong columns. But you can’t admire the place without Valsi making a snide comment. 

“You won’t find places like this on Savareen,” he says, a dark smirk painting his face. 

“Valsi! Don’t be rude!” his mother scolds. At least she’s more polite than him. 

“Well, it’s true…” he says under his breath. 

His mother shakes her head and rolls her eyes before leading you outside. The garden is vibrant, green and full of life. Species of flowers you’ve never seen before lined up in neat rows with various sculptures arranged amongst them. Across the way there’s a shining, bright blue lake and in the distance mountains loom above casting their mystified reflection on the water’s surface. Minus the mountains, the lake reminds you of the oceans on Savareen and your heart aches. 

His mother goes to say something but she’s cut off by a blinding silver reflection walking across the garden. Your stomach lurches at the sight; Din Djarin walking towards you in a field of flowers. A giddy smile breaks out onto your face and you don’t care about Valsi or his mother’s reaction.

“You came back,” you say as he reaches you, trying to mask your excitement. 

“I’ve been hired by your father to look after you whenever Valsi is busy… up until the wedding,” he says.

“That’s ridiculous. We have plenty of guards here that can look after her,” Valsi retorts, narrowing his eyes. 

“Her father’s orders,” Din shrugs.

“Ugh, whatever.”

A servant comes out to the garden and motions for Valsi to come over to him.

“I have meetings I need to attend. See you for dinner tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand.

You pull back in disgust and he leaves to follow the servant inside.

“Feel free to explore on your own,” his mother says, “When you’re ready to be shown to your room, ask a servant and one of them will show you.”

“Thank you,” you smile. His mother really does seem like a nice woman. It’s a shame her son turned out the way he did. 

It’s just you and Din alone in the garden, standing in front of each other. You start walking towards the water and he follows you, admiring how the sun hits your face and how your hair catches the wind. You’re relieved to be with him again even if it’s only for a short time. You stop at the railing and rest your hands on it, leaning forward and looking at the rolling waves of the lake. The breeze blows your hair back and fills you senses with the scent of the flora around you. You look over at Din and wonder what it’s like for him under there. Does he ever miss the feeling of the sun on his face or the wind in his hair? Does he even have hair? You have no idea what he looks like. Can he smell things underneath the helmet?

“What are you thinking about, mesh’la?”

“What you look like… and if you can smell things through the helmet.”

His gloved hand on the railing slides towards yours, resting it on top. “Of course, I can smell, cyar’ika. I would fall asleep with you pressed up against me, smelling your sweet scent every night.”

Maker, you want him so bad right now. You inch closer towards him, barely keeping any space between you two.

“Cyar’ika…” he says nervously, “What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, resting your head against his chest plate, facing the water. You could stay like this forever, in his arms and surrounded by nature. 

But eventually you start to think that people might worry if you’re gone for a long time with him so you retreat back inside. You ask a servant to show you to your room. He leads you down a long hallway and stops at one of the doors. The room is beautiful, just like the rest of the mansion. You have a balcony that looks right out to the lake. Your bags are beside your bed and you turn to ask the servant about Din. 

“What about him?”

“Uh, Master Valsi never told me of any arrangements for him.”

“Well he is my bodyguard. I would like him to have a room not too far from me.”

“Very well, miss. I’ll get started on that. Dinner is in about an hour.”

“Thank you,” you smile. He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Din alone. He closes the gap between you and snakes his arm around to the small of your back. 

“Do you know how badly I want to take you right here, cyar’ika?” he whispers.

“I mean… we have an hour,” you say suggestively.

That’s all the clearance he needs. He pushes you down on the bed gently and pulls up the skirt of your dress to reveal no underwear.

“No underwear, cyar’ika? Iba’ etyc alor’ika.” What a dirty little princess. 

You moan at his words and spread your legs open for him, aching for his touch. He wastes no time bringing his fingers to your entrance and stroking it lightly, in awe of how wet you are already.

“How bad do you want it, cyar’ika?”

“So bad, Din. Please I can’t wait any longer,” you whine. 

He chuckles at your neediness and slides a finger in, curling it upwards against your walls. Barely giving you time to adjust, he pushes another in, anxious to get you cumming around his fingers. He brings his thumb to your clit and in no time he pulls an orgasm from you. You arch your hips up against him as your cunt convulses around him. He pulls his fingers from you after you’ve ridden out your high and releases his cock that was pitching a tent in his flight suit. He slicks his length with your juices and pushes into your cunt immediately, desperate for the warm, familiar feeling again. This is the first time you’ve had him during the day. And the light from the window and balcony across the room bathes him in the warm sunny glow. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him above you, inside you and in his full armor. It’s new for him, too. Not only are you also bathed in the afternoon light but you’re also in a bigger bed this time. And it allows you to sprawl out so beautifully underneath him. He leans down, effectively folding you in half and drives his hips into you harder. With this new angle you’re at the brink of orgasm and after one last forceful thrust you’re coming undone around him. Your muscles contract and release in a symphony, cunt fluttering around his cock pulling his own orgasm from him. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he slows his pace before pulling out of you carefully. He lays down on the bed and pulls you into him, the cold beskar a nice contrast to your warm, sweaty face. After a while of catching your breath he says, “You should probably go get ready for dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He rises and puts his cock away, grabbing your hand and helping you up from the plush bed. You undress and get ready to step in the refresher, making it even harder for you to leave him.

“I’m going to go retrieve some stuff from the Crest, cyar’ika,” he sighs.

“Okay,” you say softly, “See you after dinner.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him. You get in the refresher and clean yourself up, already missing him. You change into one of the dresses you packed, off the shoulder and a silky blue color before a servant comes to pick you up for dinner. He leads you to a large dining room, again with large vaulted ceilings. The table is so big and you’re sitting so far apart it’s barely like eating together. You’re sitting across from Valsi and his mother is at one end of the table.

“You’ll have to forgive Valsi’s father. He got caught up with some business on Coruscant but he’ll be here soon,” she says.

You nod and eat together in silence before asking, “What about-”

But Valsi cuts you off, “The Mandalorian? The servants will bring him his own food to his room.”

You think about Din eating alone in his room and feel sad for him, wanting nothing more than to sit against the door and talk with him while you share a meal together. Valsi raises his eyebrow at your concern for him but drops it, going back to eating his food in silence. Eventually the three of you are finished and you excuse yourself to your room.

“Thank you so much for the tour and thank you for having me in your home,” you say to his mom, looking past Valsi.

“Of course, dear. Have a good night.”

And with that you rise from your chair and walk back to your room, anxious to see Din again. You spot a servant in the entryway of the house and ask, “Where is the Mandalorian’s room?” careful not to use his name.

“The same hallway as you, miss. But all the way at the end.”

You tell him thanks and start walking a little faster, climbing up the staircase and heading towards the hallway. You reach the end and knock on his door, but you get no response. You wait a little before knocking again… but nothing. Maybe he’s already asleep? Maybe he’s still in the Crest? You wait for a sign of his presence before retreating to your room, feeling a little defeated. You get ready for bed and change into your pajamas, slipping into the soft bed and wishing Din was here with you. 

You drift off to sleep but don’t stay asleep for long because you feel someone on the other side of the room. You hear the clink of metal and the sheets rustle as the person sneaks into bed with you. You turn over to see Din getting into bed with you silently. 

“Din! What if someone comes in?”

“I won’t stay the whole night… I just couldn’t sleep without you.”

You feel a sense of relief, for you too have grown used to the feeling of him against you every night.

“Okay,” you say softly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

You wake up early in the morning with Din still at your side. He’s still sleeping so you pull yourself away (even though it’s hard) to watch the sunrise over the mountains and the lake. The sun peeks over the mountaintops cloaking everything in a warm, amber glow. You lean over the railing of the balcony, resting your elbows on it and placing your head in your hands, admiring the stillness of it all. No one telling you where to go, no Valsi dragging you by the arm, no father that doesn’t listen to you. Just you and your lover on a peaceful morning after just spending the night together. You hear Din get up and walk behind you, hooking his hands on your hips. It’s early enough that you don’t care about anyone seeing you together. You’re probably the only ones awake. He slides your sleep shorts down and you stand on your tiptoes for him. You feel the leather of his gloves trail up and your entrance before he pulls away to take them off. You hear the them hit the floor and he replaces his hand, bare this time. His fingers tease your core, playing with you until you whine for him, getting sick of the teasing. You stand on your tiptoes even higher, arching your ass against his groin. 

“Right here, cyar’ika? What if someone sees?”

“No one will… and if someone does, oh well,” you sigh. 

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles before plunging a finger into you. 

You moan at the sensation and arch your back more, desperate for more of his touch. He slips another finger in and works your walls, preparing you for his cock. Before you could cum he pulls them out of you, whining at the empty feeling. But before you could complain anymore you feel his cock push into you slowly. You sigh at the feeling of being full once again. He grips your hips and pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your soft and hushed moans surround you as you do your best to keep quiet. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming around him, gripping his cock like a vice. He erupts his load into you, filling you with the familiar feeling of his cum soaking your cunt once again. He pulls out of you and brings you up into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The cold feeling of his chest plate presses against your back, slick with sweat from this morning’s activities. You stay there for a moment, holding each other and watching the rest of the sunrise. 

“Ni ka'tayli gar darasuum,” he says softly.

“Hmm?” you ask, still feeling blissed out.

“I love you, alor’ika. And I know that’s unfair to you because you’re engaged to someone else but… I can’t help how I feel.”

You turn and face him, gazing up into his visor and shocked that you just got a confession of love from him. But deep down… you feel the same way. And it hurts so bad because you know in a month you’ll be married to someone else.

“I love you, too, Din,” you say. 

He pulls you into him and strokes your back gently. You close your eyes and relax but you’re interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes, miss,” you hear a servant say.

“Kriff, they’re probably going to your room next,” you say, pulling away and looking up at Din. 

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I can just say I was sleeping before when they bring my food.”

You sigh and nod before going to get ready, changing into another dress. Din hugs you from behind one last time before returning to his room. You leave and walk to the dining room for breakfast to find Valsi and his mom sitting, talking about wedding preparations.

“Well, Valsi,” his mom sighs, “You’re already giving barely enough time to plan this wedding and now you want to move it up?” 

“Mhm. As soon as possible. Next week.”

She sighs again, “Fine, let me go alert the help of my son’s rash behavior.”

She gets up and leaves. You look at Valsi with a confused expression on your face.

“We’re moving up the wedding?”

“Mhm,” he says, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He looks down at you with a truly sinister look in his eye. 

“One of the servants alerted me of your little activity with the Mandalorian this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised. You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Your mouth falls open and a pit forms in your stomach. 

He continues speaking and grabs your chin, “So you can mess around with your little Mandalorian play thing for now. But once we’re married, you’re mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Don’t really want this getting out to the public, do you? Think of your father’s reputation once everyone finds out you’re cheating on another senator’s son with a Mandalorian of all people.”

He releases his grip on your chin. “Alright, go run to him and tell him the news. But later today you’re looking for a wedding dress,” he sighs, returning to his chair. 

You push out your chair and leave the dining room at once, tears forming in your eyes. You don’t stop until you reach Din’s room, knocking on the door and calling for him. You hear the hiss of the modulator through the door; he must’ve been eating. He opens the door and you collapse into him, letting the tears flow.

“What happened, cyar’ika?” he says, rubbing your back.

“Someone found out about us and told Valsi… he moved up the wedding to next week,” you sob. 

You feel him tense up against you. “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Take me away from here,” you say softly.

“I… can’t. I’m sorry, cyar’ika. They’re members of the Senate. They’ll have everyone in the galaxy after us.”

You sob even harder, feeling completely hopeless. Not even Din can save you from this. You pull away, just wanting to wallow in your sadness alone.

“I think… I need to be alone.”

“Cyar’ika-”

But you don’t listen. You turn on your heel and walk back to your room, collapsing into bed and letting your tears overtake you. You drift off to sleep but your nap is interrupted by a servant waking you up, telling you it’s time to go pick out your dress. 

You leave with the servant and Din, who says nothing to you. They take you into the city and drop you off at a dress shop with enough credits. They wait for you out front while you make your selections. You couldn’t care less about your wedding dress and what it looks like since the marriage is a sham anyway. You pick the first one you see, pay and leave. You meet Din and the servant outside, ready to be done with being in public so you can go back to your room and wallow in sadness. You return back to the mansion and make a beeline for your room, tossing your dress on the dresser before falling into bed. You cry yourself to sleep and miss dinner, waking up the next morning with puffy eyes and an upset stomach.

The next several days feel monotonous, an endless cycle of pretending to care about wedding preparations and crying in your room. Valsi’s father and your family arrive on Naboo a few days before the wedding. Surprisingly, your parents invite the few friends you had on Savareen before you moved away; the best thing to happen to you in days. You’re happy to see them again but you wish it was under different circumstances. Din still hangs around, checking in on you in your room occasionally but you still hold some animosity for him for not being willing to get you out of here. 

It’s the night before the wedding and you hear a soft knock on your door. You open to see Din and despite your disdain for him you let him in. He sits on the bed gingerly, seeming nervous. You fold your arms, getting ready to speak first. But surprisingly he does.

“I just wanted to see you one last time.”

You sigh. In all honesty you wanted this, too. 

“Me, too,” you admit, sitting down next to him and looking down at your hands. 

He reaches over and palms your thigh. You pull off your dress before laying down on the bed and opening your legs for him. The dim glow on the lamps reflects off his beskar as he moves to your underwear, hooking the fabric with his fingers and pulling it off. He brings his finger to your cunt, teasing you lightly, taking his time with you on your final night together. You whine at his delicate touch, aching for more. He pulls off his gloves and feels just how wet you are for him, wanting to hear you beg for him again. 

“Please, Din. I need you,” you moan. 

On command he slides his finger in, pumping it and out of you slowly. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

It’s been days since you last had him and you missed him so much. You writhe under his touch; just from one finger. He marvels at your body, the plush skin of your thighs and how you arch your back in pleasure. Aching for more he pushes another finger in and brings his thumb to your clit. He rubs small, quick circles around it and curls his fingers, pulling an orgasm from you in no time. You soak his hand down to his wrist as your cunt grips his fingers. He waits until you’re done riding out your high before removing them from you and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. He lubricates his length with your release and aligns himself with your entrance, taking your hand one last time as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation of him filling you up completely, burying his cock into you balls deep and grazing your cervix. His hands move to your waist pulling you into him as he thrusts into you. Your moans fill the bedroom and you couldn’t care less about anyone hearing you right now. He looks down at you in complete adoration as you take him. Din feels his cock tense up and his balls tighten. He’s at the brink of orgasm but he wants you to cum with him. He slams his hips into you harder and faster, sending you over the edge. Your cunt flutters around, pulling every last drop of cum from him as he fucks you through your release. He slows and pulls out of you, laying on the bed next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck one last time, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize every last detail about him before you never see him again. 

“Yooba solus mesh’la,” he whispers. 

You sigh against him, never wanting this moment to end. But it’s getting late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Reluctantly, you pull away from him and he gets up. You lead him to the door and give him one final hug. 

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, alor’ika,” he whispers against your hair.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back. 

After one final look at each other he leaves, returning to back his room. You put on your pajamas and crawl into bed, silently crying before you fall asleep. 

You wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in your heart. Din’s surely gone by now. What reason would he have to stick around for the wedding?

Servants knock on the door and tell you they’re here to help you get ready. You get up to let them in and they begin to work on your hair and makeup. You put on your dress and look in the mirror. You look beautiful but you don’t feel beautiful; getting ready to marry a man you don’t love while you’re full with the seed of another. 

The servants escort you down the stairs and you see your parents. They tell you how beautiful you look and how happy they are for you. You give them a faux smile, trying to fake any ounce of happiness you can muster.

Soon, it’s time for the ceremony and you look out into the garden from the house at all the guests. It has to be a large wedding of course, filled with some of the most important people in the New Republic. You see Valsi at the end of the aisle, looking annoyed like he’s just waiting for this to be over. You walk down the aisle with your father and start to feel sick to your stomach at all of the eyes on you. He hands you off to Valsi who takes your hand, a little too tight. The officiant begins reading the wedding passage and your ears start ringing. You don’t even listen to what he and Valsi are saying, missing your cues to speak several times. You can sense Valsi getting annoyed with you, his brow furrowing at you as you trip up on your vows again. Before you can finish you hear a loud, “Stop!”

You rip your gaze from Valsi to see Din standing in the aisle. He doesn’t even have to continue calling for you. You immediately run towards him and into his arms, ignoring the protests of Valsi and your family and the gasps from the guests. You hear Valsi call for the guards and Din draws his blaster. He places one hand on the small of your back and begins firing once the guards do. 

“Run, cyar’ika! To the docking yard!”

You turn and bolt. You hear Valsi shout, “Don’t let her get away!”

Din follows you, shooting his blaster at anyone chasing after you. Between the adrenaline rush of escaping and being fired at you push yourself harder, desperate to get away. You reach the docking yard and run straight to the Razor Crest. Din opens the exit ramp and ushers you inside, firing his blaster a few more times at the guards before following you inside. He closes the ramp behind him and rushes up the ladder and into the pilot seat, preparing the Crest for takeoff hastily. Not before long you’re taking off, staring at the beautiful planet beneath you but feeling so grateful to be leaving. Once you left the atmosphere Din jumps to lightspeed. He turns to you and grabs your hands. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt, cyar’ika?”

You shake your head no, still panting from the chase and replaying it in your head. 

“How are we going to do this, Din? They’re going to send everyone after us.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’re going to Nevarro where I have some people who’ve agreed to hide us. But there’s one thing… you have to become my riduur.”

“Your what?”

“My wife; my spouse.”

Without hesitation you tell him yes and he sighs in relief, worried that you didn’t want to escape one marriage by entering a new one. He lets go of your hands and brings them to the edge of his helmet. You immediately throw your hands over your eyes and ask, “What are you doing?!”

“Don’t you want to see the face of the man you’re marrying, cyar’ika?”

“...I can do that?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he chuckles but his heart swells at the idea of you agreeing to marry him without seeing his face; at your devotion to him. 

He pulls off the helmet and you hear the hiss of the modulator. You slowly remove your hands from your face and see Din, staring back at you. Brown, curly hair, a little matted from the helmet, a strong, prominent nose, two frown lines perched between his eyebrows, slightly patchy facial hair, and warm brown eyes scanning your face for any sign of approval. He’s beautiful; more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined.

You crash your lips against his and entangle your hands in his hair, reveling in the feeling of his bare face pressed against yours. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against his. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, cyar’ika. I’d do anything for you… I love you.”

“I love you, too, Din,” you say, kissing him again. 

He rests his hand on the back of your neck, continuing the kiss until he pulls away to check the coordinates on the control panel. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, watching him in the blue glow from hyperspace. He turns his face towards you again and smiles, the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. That’s your man. 

[bidolatry]

sandwich posting. vvvvvv yummy sandwich

[snowyfrostshadows]

It's all fun and games until it isn't

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[lunariarts]

It took some searching, but I'm almost certain this is the thing you talked about

waaaarrk my beloved!! you have found them one of my dearest weird images I've collected

I spent so many years sending this to people or just quoting it at all the homoerotic sleepovers. Oldest legacy of weird bullshit on my computer

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

prev. | next

KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[gilverrwrites]

I love imaging Dick, Tim, and Damian sneaking around trying to meet Jasons new gf because they just wanna be involved in his life and they know if they they leave it to Jay they wont meet her u til they're married with kids 😭

AND ‘omg us meeting Jason’s siblings when’

AN: Ngl I love this idea too, its so shitty of them but they have the best of intentions.

Damian

A boy no older than 14 with eyes that pierce the soul was not what you'd expected to find on Jason's couch the very first time he'd left you alone there. Jason had to dip out unexpectedly early, and had promised you run of the place until he got back so you'd slept in as long as you could and were on your way to make breakfast when you're greeted by the hell-child.

Once your initial fright wears off you realise you recognize him from a photo Jay had showed you which makes you feel slightly more at ease.

“Good morning? Damian right?” You offer as you pass him, be-lining for the coffee machine, you're gonna need caffeine if you're meeting any member of Jay's family for the first time. “Can I get you anything?”

“Alfred says it's unbecoming to sleep past 9.” Besides the initial glare he'd graced you with as you emerged from the bedroom, he doesn't even look up at you, his eyes glued to the pages of a book. Like brother like brother, you guess.

“Oh, well. Good thing Alfreds not here then.” You add a small laugh, trying to inject some humour to the situation. Damian does not respond in kind. “Is that a no? I think there's some chocolate cereal around here somewhere.”

“What do you do for work that allows you to be in my brother's home in the middle of the day?”

Jeez this kid is no-nonsense. “Or I could make pancakes, I make really good pancakes.”

“And tell me what exactly are your intentions with my baby brother?” Baby?

“I think there's some chocolate chips around here somewhere. Jason says you like chocolate. Chocolate pancakes?”

“Do you always avoid questions?”

“Are you always so intense?”

He slams the book closed and you nearly jump on the spot. He finally looks at you, really looks at you and as you stare back his features begin to soften slightly.

“I’ll have a coffee.”

You're certain from the sly look on his face that he's probably not allowed coffee. He certainly doesn't need any. But screw it, he's not your kid and if it gets him to like a little, you'll take the risk.

So you pour two coffees and join him on the couch. His questions do not cease until Jason returns about an hour later. He couldn't care less about the coffee, but he does care about Damian breaking in to interrogate his partner and immediately kicks Damian out.

Dick

Dick finds out about your existence from one of Damian’s letters, and he's subtle but pushy about meeting you. Not that you're aware. He keeps ‘dropping by’ Jason's apartment ‘just to see his lil brother’, no other reason but is told to get lost or downright ignored anytime you're there, until he decides to cut out the middle man and turn up at your home instead.

“Let me tell you, you are a hard person to get a hold of.” He informs as he invites himself through your front door.

“Um, hello Dick?” As you stare at his lush hair and sculpted abs you wonder what Alfred feeds these boys.

“Yep! I can't stay so I’ve gotta make this quick.” he gestures for you to come closer, speaking in a playful, conspiratorial whisper. “Jay doesn't know I'm here.”

That would be why he can't stay, Jason is due at your door any minute now.

“But you two seem to be getting pretty serious and I think it's important that we all get to know each other. You following?”

You nod, and he gives you the perkiest, most genuine smile. That or he has that exact look practised to a T. From what Jay tells you, either is possible.

“So, Barbara and I, that's my wife” You nod once more, you're aware of Barbara also. “have booked a table at Casa Gotica for Thursday night. We need you to get Jason there without letting on that it's a double date.”

“I don’t know.” you finally give your nodding head a break. “Jay and I don’t lie to each other.”

“Right. I can't begrudge that. Very glad to hear he's picked an honest one.” He takes a moment to straighten his thoughts, but his moment is cut short but the echo of Jason’s combat boots approaching your door. Dick’s eyes rapidly scan the room for a secondary exit before he settles on an open window. “Don't think of it as lying, think of it as omitting the truth. Whatever you have to do just be there for 6.30. Oh, and it's great to meet you!”

“You too.”

“Thursday, 6.30!”

Before you can agree he’s gone, presumably scaling the side of your building as Jay steps inside.

Tim

Tim was actually the first to be aware of you and your relationship with his brother, however, the very real possibility of being gutted by Jason for snooping in his personal life was too high for him to make a move.

But you seeking him out is a different story; or rather, you being the first to say hi when you bump into each other in line at the grocery store is different. It would be rude not to respond to your attempts at initiating a conversation.

“Hello, hi, are you Tim? You don't know me but I’m Jasons partner. Its so great to meet you.”

“I know who you are.” He states rather ominously, eyes darting around behind you. “Is he here?”

“No, but he's picking me up after.” His shoulders visibly ease.

“Cool cool cool.” He’s suddenly much more personable. “So, I hear you're into…”

That chatting doesn't dry or lul at all as the queue dwindles and both buy your groceries. He waits with you until you get confirmation from Jay that he's on his way. He's easily the chillest sibling you've met thus far.

When Jason arrives he gets out of the car to open the boot and passenger door for you as always, but not before he thrusts his phone in your face. “Where is he?”

Displayed on the screen is a selfie of Tim with you in the background, you absolutely do not remember it being taken.

[silkythewriter]

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

[fxrheisenn]

Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

[chrissturnsfav]

𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓊𝓅 | 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

you give chris a little fashion show to show him what you got at the mall, and it grows difficult for him to contain himself when you try on the lingerie you bought to wear for him.

ᰔᩚ smut, bf!chris, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), dom!chris, fingering, use of pet names, creampie, titty sucking

ᰔᩚ w.c. 2,623

chris is playing fortnite on his computer, his hands swiftly clacking against the joystick as his gaze is fixed only on the screen. his face is filled with anticipation and eagerness as he works with matt to win the game while wearing a headset on his head.

you enter his room carrying several shopping bags and grinning excitedly, interrupting his game. chris looks away momentarily, his once-determined visage softening as he sees you.

"hi baby, how was the mall?" he asks, his eyes darting from you to the screen while he keeps clicking the buttons on his controller at a fast pace.

your smile widens as you glance down at the large bags in your hands and then back up at him, "good, i got so much stuff," you speak with excitement in your voice.

chris scoffs, nodding while looking at his computer screen before looking at the bags in your hands, "yeah, i can tell."

you set the bags down on the floor next to his door, plopping down on the couch in his room while watching the game unfold on his screen.

chris turns around to look at you for a second, speaking with slight want, "why don't you give me a show or somethin', ma?"

you furrow your brows, giggling softly, "like a fashion show?"

chris nods, his eyes back on the screen as he kills an opposing player. he looks back at you again with a smirk, "yeah, wanna see you in those pretty clothes i paid for."

you pause to think, picturing the two sets of lingerie you purchased especially for him, and then a tiny smirk appears on your mouth and a suggestive thought occurs to you, "okay, yeah," you say nonchalantly.

chris' smirk softens, nodding as he licks his lips, "that's my girl."

you give him a soft laugh in awe, a small blush coating your cheeks at his words as you scoop up the bags, enter his bathroom, and shut the door.

as chris goes back to his game—his voice muffled on the other side of the door while he talks to matt on the discord call—you decide to save the lingerie for last and first try on a jumpsuit from aritzia you picked out.

you pull on the tight, jumpsuit. your tits slightly peek out at the top as you begin adjusting the tank top straps on your shoulders. admiring your appearance in the mirror, you boldly smile at your image. the jumpsuit defines your curves with its stretchy, black fabric, hugging your figure in all the right places.

you step out of the bathroom and chris immediately turns his head to look at you, raising his eyebrows and taking you in up and down. he smirks, licking his lips before his eyes land on your face and he speaks, "damn, that's real nice."

i smile sheepishly, spinning around in a circle before facing him again, "you like it?"

chris nods, the smirk still on his lips as his eyes dart from his computer screen to your face, fingers still clicking rapidly at the controller, "'course i do, i love it. looks good on you."

your smile grows and you nod, "good," you say softly before walking back into the bathroom to try on the next outfit you bought.

you try on the rest of the clothes you bought, chris loving each one more than the last each time you come out of the bathroom. he's already feeling himself getting excited in his pants over the thought that you used his credit card to buy all these clothes for yourself.

he loved making you happy, seeing you happy. though you had a slightly over the top shopping addiction, he didn't care. he'd let you reach his credit limit if you wanted, he just wanted to make you happy.

back in the bathroom, you smirk excitedly as you pull out one of the lingerie sets from the victoria's secret bag. it's a pretty baby pink two piece set. little white bows are embroidered into the lacy fabric, the bra pushing your tits up vulgarly along with a matching garter on your thigh. after you slip on the thong, you admire the innocent looking set in the mirror before turning to the door.

you creak open the bathroom door slightly, peeking your head out the crack, giggling while you look at chris.

chris turns his head, furrowing his brows as he looks at you, "what?"

you smirk before stepping out of the bathroom, taking a few steps towards him.

chris' face falls, his already hard dick beneath his sweatpants growing even harder as he takes in the set on your delicate body. his eyes slowly trail up and down your body, tilting his head to the side with a dangerous smirk, "you look fuckin'..."

your smirk on your lip grows, taking in chris' reaction, "what?"

"hold on, matt, one sec," chris says into his mic before muting it and sighing as he turns back around to look at you, his game chair swiveling with his motion.

"damn. you look sexy. sexy as fuck," he says hoarsely, desire slowly filling up his body and he can feel his member dripping with precum in his pants.

you scoff, the smirk still on your face as you lick your lips and speak suggestively, "i have another one you might like even more."

chris raises his brows, snickering, "lemme see it, ma."

you nod, walking back into the bathroom and closing the door. chris can't help but notice the way your fleshy ass jiggles as you move, grunting under his breath at the sight before he snickers and turns back to the game to unmute his mic, "my bad," he says nonchalantly to matt.

in the bathroom, you change out of the set, putting it back into the bag before pulling out the other one. you laugh quietly as you hold it up in your hands, noticing that this one is slightly more revealing.

when you put it on, you admire your reflection in the mirror confidently. this one is a lacy white set, small see through designs laced into the bra that ties in the middle, creating a sexy touch. the thong ties along your waist in an innocent looking bow in the middle. they are also embroidered with see through designs, the fabric that covers your center is see through with tiny white hearts.

to make it even better, it even comes with a sexy, matching garter belt, see through white lacy stockings up to your knees and tiny bows embroidered into the material of the garter and stockings.

you know chris is going to go absolutely feral.

when you wordlessly step out of the bathroom, a confident look displayed on your face, chris whips his head around, his breath hitching in his throat when he sees you. his cock becomes impossibly harder, making a very obvious tent in his pants. his eyes trail slowly all over your barely covered up figure and he bites his lip when he sees the see through fabric on your core.

"so. what do you think?" you ask, purposely giving him a really slow 360 spin, your ass jiggling ever so slightly when you move and chris bites back a growl.

chris scoffs when you face him again, licking his lips with lust filling his eyes. he smirks at you, turning around to speak to matt through his mic, "yo, matt, i'm not feelin' great right now, gonna play later," he says nonchalantly. he doesn't even give poor matt a chance to respond before he disconnects the call and turns off his computer.

chris stands up, his gaze fixated on your poorly covered tits spilling out of the beautiful bra as he slowly treads towards you. you can already feeling yourself filling with desire, your cunt growing wet with every second.

he stands in front of you with his face inches away from yours. he looks down at you with a wicked smirk on his face, your lips parted and eyes lustful as you look up at him and anticipate his actions.

"seems like you really know what i like, huh?" he asks hoarsely, the lust evident in his voice.

you smirk up at him, nodding, "mhmm," you hum.

chris' smirk deepens while he speaks in a voice just above a whisper, "mhm, 'n i'm gonna show you how much i love this on ya."

chris gives you no time to respond, pushing you onto his bed and hovering over you, his hands on your waist causing your breath to hitch and body flow with desire and lust.

he begins peppering slow, sloppy kisses on your neck, lightly nipping at the skin that makes your eyes flutter shut and lips part, fingers toying with his hair.

"gonna make ya feel so good..." he mumbles against your skin, sending a vibration through your needy body, "look so pretty, baby...so perfect."

chris pulls the string on the tie on your bra, his fingers moving behind you to unclip it and toss it somewhere on his bed, licking his lips at your perfect tits and immediately kissing them.

you let out a breathy whimper, your hands tangled in the brunette locks in the back of his head as he swirls his tongue around your hard nipple, his other hand squeezing your free tit roughly.

"chris..." you mumble softly, need evident in your voice making him chuckle against you, "got such pretty tits, mama, so perky 'n shit."

chris moves his lips down just below your boob, leaving tiny hickies and bruises in your skin and he kitty licks them gently, easing the light sting.

he bites his lip and plays with the cloth teasingly as soon as he reaches the garter on your waist, "'n this little thing y'got on, tsk..." he starts, scoffing between words, "makin' me go crazy..." he mutters, pulling it off your body.

chris' fingers slowly run over your needy core, laughing darkly at how sopping wet you are, "look at you...love when y'get so wet f'me...always so fast." his words and slight touch make you shiver, letting out a whimper of desire.

he pulls your sheer thong to the side, revealing your glistening center and bites his lip at the sight. he runs his thumb through your achy folds, humming in amusement at your reaction, "hmmm, so sensitive."

chris begins rubbing painfully slow circles on your puffy clit and you arch your back in response, letting out a sharp gasp while your eyes immediately roll back.

chris watches you intently with a soft smirk, pushing his middle finger in you with ease while still rubbing slow patterns on your bundle of nerves.

you whine at how slow he's going, letting out a shaky exhale, "chris, please...f-faster..."

chris snickers and doesn't quicken his pace, his finger continuing to slowly pump in and out of you as he leans close to your face, "nah, want you to cum on my dick, not my fingers, baby," he whispers hoarsely in your ear.

he pulls away, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet squelch and you look up at him, watching as he sucks your arousal off his fingers with a soft hum, "tastes so pretty," he purrs.

he leans close to your face again, a hand on your tit and the other fiddling with the button of his jeans as he presses his lips against yours, slickly slipping his tongue in your mouth.

your hands tangle in his hair, tongues massaging each other and you let out a small moan into his mouth when you taste your slick on his tongue.

he snickers against your lips as he unzips his zipper and pulls away, pulling his jeans and boxers down to rest just below his hips, his hard cock leaking with precum springing up.

he positions himself over you, palms pressed against his sheets on either side of your face as he looks down at his dick, slowly pushing it into you and grunting lowly, "fuuck..."

his action makes your back arch, your eyes roll back, and your brows furrow while letting out a moan of pleasure and relief.

he picks up a fast pace quickly, swinging one of your thighs over his shoulder to allow you to feel him deeper. you let out a heavy squeak, "o-oh! chris..."

chris hums in pleasure, panting slowly as he moves quickly in and out with you, lewd, wet sounds along with your moans sounding like music to his ears, "yeeeah, look at you...look so pretty all fucked out on my cock," he grunts darkly, staring down at you through half lidded eyes.

you begin panting loudly, your eyes squeezed shut as you let out lewd noises that chris loves, your hands around his neck stroking the hair behind his head. you feel so full, so aroused by him.

chris moves one of his hands to your bouncing tit, squeezing at the flesh and occasionally pinching your nipple. your fucked out face is pushing him closer to the edge, deep, small groans leaving his lips as he relishes in the sensation your sweet pussy gives him.

your walls begin clenching around him as you get closer, "mm, yeah, pussy feels so good, squeezin' me so tight like that," he groans quietly. "so close already, aren't you?"

you continue panting quickly, hands gripping his hair tightly as your head throws itself back, "m-mhm...f-feels s-so...so deep, chris," you mewl softly.

chris smirks at you, moving faster and deeper into you. one of his hands moves to your stomach as he watches his bulge move in and out of you while pressing down on it, "yeah? feel me right here?" he purrs in a low grunt.

you nod your head, your thighs beginning to shake at the immense pleasure he's giving you, face all fucked out for him, "y-yeah...yeah," you whimper.

"mhm, tell me how good 'm makin' you feel, ma," he growls hoarsely, moving a hand to grip your thigh on his shoulder while it shakes, holding you steady, "wanna hear ya say it."

"s-so good! you...y-you feel s-so good," you breathe out shakily following by a squeaky moan, "i-i'm so...so close..."

chris smirks down at you, moving his hand from your stomach to your hip to keep your almost trembling body stable, "atta girl, yeah? gonna make a mess, baby?"

you nod and before you can get words out, you're sharply gasping. the pressure in your tummy erupts, causing you to throw your head back into his pillows while your face contorts. your cum milks chris' dick deep inside you while you yelp out, "u-uh! ooohhh, chris!"

chris snickers at your climax, fucking you through it as he speaks hoarsely, "there ya go, there it is. love when y'make those pretty sounds f'me."

you pant quickly, chris' thrusts growing more messy and uncoordinated while he grunts and his fingers dig into your skin. you know he's close by the marks his nails leave in your skin.

"fuuuck, you're gonna make me cum," he grunts followed by his eyes rolling back. he gives you one last thrust before he curses under his breath, twitching inside you and painting your walls white with his cum.

chris pulls out of you while panting, you stare up at him with lazy eyes, breathing deeply as he watches his seed drip out of you and he smirks, using a finger to push it back into you, "fuckin' take that shit," he breathes out.

he pulls his finger back out, looking down at you with a now softened smirk, "you okay, mama?"

you nod with a lazy smile, catching your breath, "mhm, i'm okay. you were perfect."

chris smiles gently, leaning down and leaving a soft peck on your lips, "just couldn't help myself, that outfit was too gorgeous."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i had so much fun writing this this was also inspired by something i saw on tiktok, it was chris on stream and it said something like "pov: you're giving chris a fashion show while on stream." also i hope the way i explained how the lingerie looks wasn't too confusing :/

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[prael]

Touch

Kinktember Day 9: Spa

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist

"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.

"No, why? Is she famous or something?"

"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.

"Did you get her name?"

"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"

"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."

"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"

And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."

A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.

As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"

"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."

"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.

"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"

"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.

The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."

"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.

"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.

"I serve, not control."

"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."

"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."

"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."

You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.

With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.

"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."

"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.

"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.

There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."

You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.

As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.

You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.

She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.

Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.

Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.

"Now, your body, Dani."

Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"

"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"

Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.

"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."

Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.

Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—

Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.

"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.

She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.

"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."

"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.

"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.

"I just sit?"

"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"

"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.

You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.

"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.

"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.

"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.

You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.

"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."

"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.

You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.

"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.

You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.

"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."

She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.

She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.

"Dani, the towel..."

"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.

"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."

You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."

"Miss— I—"

"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.

The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.

Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.

She hums in delight.

With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.

There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.

When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.

"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.

"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.

Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.

You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.

Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"

You agree.

You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.

"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.

Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.

The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.

Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.

She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.

You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."

Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.

One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.

Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.

"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"

You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.

"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."

That's all it takes.

How could you deny her?

Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.

"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.

"Never," you bluff.

Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.

"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.

Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.

"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."

She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.

You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.

"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.

Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.

You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.

"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.

"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.

She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.

You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.

It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.

More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?

You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.

She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.

You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."

"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."

"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."

"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."

Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."

Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.

Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.

Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.

Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.

Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.

Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.

She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.

Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.

Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.

The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."

You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.

The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.

Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.

Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.

"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.

Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."

And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.

She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.

You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.

You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.

"Dani, fuck," you groan.

"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."

Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.

"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.

She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.

Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.

"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."

In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.

"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.

Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.

She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.

You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.

"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.

So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.

Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.

Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.

She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.

Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.

Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.

"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.

Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.

Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."

This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.

You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.

Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.

It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.

Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.

You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.

Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.

"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.

"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."

[emberwhite]

I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

[sadesluvr]

By Your Side

Sometimes you don't realise how much Bruce needs you.

A/N: Title based off the song by Sade! The Sade/Nirvana song choice is just to show your different personalities...We love needy, loverboy Bruce :3 Minors/Ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 2.6K

“Master Bruce is in his usual spot, I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“I know... Thank you, Alfred. Take care of him for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“I’ve been doing this for years. You go and have fun...And might I say you look stunning as ever, Miss.” 

You flashed Alfred another smile, kissing his cheek before you left in search of your boyfriend – Bruce Wayne, and The Batman himself. From the moment you’d began dating, Alfred had been nothing but kind to you, to the point that you saw him as a father in-law rather than your boyfriend's butler. Granted, it was easy for him to trust you; you’d been in all the same circles as the Wayne’s growing up and had even gone to school with the boy himself, hence a mutual understanding of what each other needed. 

Bruce wasn’t that much of a public figure; you kept your relationship hidden (as much as possible). Wayne Enterprises sometimes needed good PR; you were more than happy to step in. Yes, there was a business side, but there was also a lot of love, and it was perhaps that innate trust and understanding that propelled the man to reveal his identity to you. You hadn’t run, screamed, questioned or cried: merely accepted and moved on. 

Tonight was one of those nights; a charity gala was to be held, and somebody needed to make a public appearance.  

You’d been into the Batcave many times. It wasn’t your favourite place in the building; it was a little cold and lacked the classic feel of the Gothic architecture in the main tower, but you found yourself strangely comfortable in it. Probably because it was Bruce’s space, and you felt like you knew him on a deeper level. 

Goosebumps peppered your skin as you entered the floor, heels making a distinct clicking sound as you walked in, stopping halfway. As always, the man was glued to his screen, and you thought it best not to disturb him. No matter how nice you looked. 

“I’m heading out. The chauffeur’s going to be here in twenty.” 

Bruce pursed his lips, slowly withdrawing his gaze from the screen to glance up at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he gave you a once over. Even with the hair in his face, you could tell that there was a flurry of emotions within his wet blue eyes; disappointment, annoyance...intrigue.  

“...Tonight? Why?” he said, his voice soft and shaky. 

“Because I have to,” you sighed, a small smile on your face as you shifted your weight. Bruce was far from being a child, but sometimes he walked the line between being an eight-year-old, and an angsty teenager, something that you were more than understanding about given his life circumstances. “It’s for charity. I’m also going on your behalf.” 

He seemed uncomfortable at this; blinking as he diverted his gaze back to his screen, eyes roaming the pixelated words and images absentmindedly before turning back to you, jaw tight and ticking. 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Alfred took care of all the transport,” you said matter-of-factly. “There’ll be lots of people there. I couldn’t get kidnapped if I tried.” 

Bruce didn’t laugh. You should’ve anticipated that. 

Sighing, there was a distant smile on your face as you got closer, placing your hand on his own and giving it a small squeeze. His hands were a little cold and slightly calloused, and you tenderly rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, careful not to agitate him with your rings.  

“Would you feel better if you drove me?”  

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice stern, but his. “Not tonight. If people know you’re with me it only makes you more of a target.” 

Removing your hands from his own, you took a deep breath and sighed, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip in frustration. God knew you loved Bruce, but God also knew he was stubborn; way too stubborn for his own good. The rational side of you knew that it was because of his trauma, but in the moment you didn’t feel like coddling him. 

Great, now you’d ruined your makeup.  

You were going to fix it, and then you were going to the gala.  

“That’s too bad, Bruce.”  Was all you said before you disappeared, spinning on your heels as you strutted out of the room without as much as giving him a second glance.

You could feel his impenetrable gaze on your back as you did, either cursing you out in his mind, fantasising about you, or somewhere in between. The lighting of the Batcave was perhaps a little too dim to see the entirety of your dress anyway. 

Strolling into the bathroom, you switched on the light before taking a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. There were hints of condensation along the mirror and bath tiles from the shower you'd taken earlier, the faint smell of your oils and body lotions sticking to the fibres of the hand towel.  

You picked up a cloth and hastily wiped at the glass, just enough so that you could see your face and the outline of your body. Gently, you ran your fingers over your hips and waist, trying desperately to smooth out the material before you rummaged in your makeup bag, pulling out the liner and running it over your lips. The precision in which you performed the ritual told you that you were perhaps more interested in the aesthetics of it all, rather than the actual charity itself.  

It was a transaction really – and in truth you had the same mindset as all the other rich Gothamites. You may have been dating the heir to the Wayne throne, but were an ambassador first, and that meant appearances had to be made. It kept the business happy, and Bruce too, leaving him free to do his vigilante shit as much as he pleased. 

Once you were happy with how you looked, you gave yourself a once over, contemplating whether you should go for another spritz of perfume, only to be interrupted by Bruce himself. He’d poked his head inside the doorway, watching your motions from behind.  

Catching his eye in the mirror, you relaxed your shoulders and spun to lean against the edge of the sink. He took that as a sign to come in, closing the door behind him with two fingers as he did, glassy eyes roaming your body before focusing on your face. The muggy air of the bathroom seemed to catch up with him instantly; his black strands frizzy and unbridled, some clinging to his forehead in the process.  

To an outsider, one would’ve never been able to tell that this was a happy, healthy couple – friends from the same tax bracket – let alone Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the city. He was wearing one of his muted t-shirts with sweatpants to match, and looked a little spent, stubble around his chin and bags under his eyes; whilst you were dressed as if you were ready to walk a fashion show in Milan. 

But you were fine with it. In fact, you rather liked it. 

“Are you here to apologise?” you said matter-of-factly, smirking as you folded your arms over your chest. 

“That’s a nice dress,” Bruce said, ignoring your statement. “Where’d you get it?” 

“I bought it. It was on auction.” 

“Why didn’t you let me pay for it?” 

“Because if I told you what it was for, I wouldn’t be wearing it now.” 

Bruce hummed, nodding his head as he diverted his gaze before looking back at you. He took a step, outstretching his hand to run his fingers along the fabric, tracing the shape of your body as he did. The act, though small, sent a chill down your spine, as if you were being touched by him for the first time.

He always seemed to have a way with his actions; they were gentle and somewhat apprehensive, but they always had intent. Your eyes fluttered shut as he buried his face in your neck, his hairs tickling your bare skin as he eventually pulled you into a hug. Momentarily, you remained still, listening as his breaths steadied before you touched him back, wrapping your hands around his waist. 

There was a soft whistle that came from his nose as he embraced the scent of your perfume, and soon his pout became an imperceptible smile – to you, at least, who was faced away from the mirror. You always managed to bring him a sense of comfort; a grounding reality to the mania of his double life. 

His grip on the small of your back tightened as he spoke into your ear, voice somewhat muffled. 

“I need you...” he crooned. “Stay.” 

“Bruce...” you sighed. “The driver --” 

“Forget about him,” Bruce insisted, maintaining his grip on you as he angled his head to look at you. His pink lips were wet and parted, and his eyes were wide. “Stay with me. Please.” 

Perhaps it was the lighting, but he seemed less grumpy and instead soft, almost like a boy who didn’t want to be left on his first day of school. Sighing, you scanned his features as you cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the eagerness to step out in front of the cameras and into a grand hall filled with socialites indescribably slip away.

Admittedly, even though you spent a lot of time in the tower, you’d hardly seen Bruce over the past few weeks – whilst you worked tirelessly through the day with PR reps and funders, he did the same at night; in his own way, of course.  

You were used to it, and it was a relatively peaceful routine, but sometimes you wondered if tonight was your chance to switch roles; for you to be the woman in black, and for him to ponder about what was happening outside. 

You didn’t want to hurt him. That was never the intention. 

Rubbing your thumb over his skin, you pursed your lips before pulling him into a gentle kiss, with the man holding your waist in place with his hands, legs and pelvis trapping you between the sink and his body.

Despite your mini dispute, you were immediately in sync, lips intertwined as they danced against each other whilst Bruce’s hands made their way up to the zipper behind you. Skilfully, he tugged at the material, watching as the fabric slowly split apart, undressing you until you were left in your underwear; chest practically bare other than some pasties glued to your nipples. 

You cast your gaze to the floor as the dress pooled around your ankles, unable to have a chance at mourning the night you were supposed to have as Bruce cupped your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head to look at him. 

“Beautiful.”  

He said simply, his blue eyes scanning your features before he began to kiss you again, his lips making their way down your neck and along your collarbone. You laced your fingers in his dark strands, biting your lip as you felt his erection against your bare thigh before tugging at his shirt. He twitched, his resistance coming from the scars that adorned his back; some from your own doing, but most from his nights of vigilante work.  

“It’s ok, Bruce,” you said sweetly, squirming against the ceramic. “I want to see you too.” 

He cast his gaze to the floor before softly exhaling, peeling off his shirt and discarding it on the floor next to your dress.

Running your fingertips up his spine, you let out a soft moan as he cupped your breasts, his hands uncontrolled as he felt his way along your body, eventually sliding down to your folds and slipping a finger in. He prodded and poked, gently pulling you apart as you coated his fingers with your juices, his lips still on your skin as he began to jerk against you, grinding his erection on your lower torso. 

Instinctively, you snaked your hand inside of his sweatpants, giving his clothed cock a few languid strokes before pulling them down by the waistband. Groping at your ass, Bruce lifted you off the sink and onto the adjoining counter, hastily aligning himself with your entrance.  

“Bruce...I’m sorry. Forgive me?” you whispered, shutting your eyes as his wet tip prodded at your entrance. It was a rather misplaced, emotional message for such a sexually charged moment, but you found it necessary. Here; with his face in your hands and your bodies just about to become one, there wasn’t a better moment. Coherent words seemed to evade the both of you, but the message was clear – you were by each other's side, always. He knew you were one of the few people who got him, understood him; really, and you knew that deep down, he was just scared. 

You were willing to work through that. 

It was bliss when he entered you. He’d gone in raw, cock stretching you so perfectly and making you feel whole. He let out a heavy sigh as he savoured the feeling before beginning to roll his hips, murmuring into your neck as he held onto your legs, making sure they stayed apart.  

Jostling about, your calves struck the cabinets below ever so slightly as he found a comfortable pace. His breath was hot against your own clammy skin, and he smelt faintly of leather and sweat…which only turned you on more. 

Bruce groaned your name, his breaths laboured and ragged as he motioned his hips in and out of you, pelvis colliding with your thighs and producing an obscene slapping sound. He gripped onto your waist, angling your hips so that he could take more of you, desperate to consume you in any way he could. He didn’t want to let go – he couldn’t – your love was just too strong, too womanly to lose hold of. 

To some it made him weak, but he felt it gave him balance. 

“God…” you whispered, clasping his face in your hands, forcing him to watch you come undone. “Don’t stop…” Bruce’s eyes were half lidded, occasionally flickering down to the small gap that joined the two of you, hypnotised by the way you covered his pink cock in a shiny sheen, with the sex organ virtually disappearing in you. 

He nodded, lips wet and parted as you pushed hair from his face, allowing for you to take in his features at his most vulnerable. Even though the room had become steamy, and the lights were slightly obscured, Bruce was as handsome as ever. His usually clenched jaw hung free, and the dark circles around his eyes didn’t look so depressing. 

There was just something about intimacy that changed the way you see people. 

“B-Bruce…” you crooned, locking your legs around him as you noticed his thrusts becoming sloppier. “Cum inside me…Please.” 

He wasn’t going to say no to you, nor was he planning to pull out anyway, especially not tonight. He called your name once more before he began to pant, blue eyes locking with your own as he came inside of you, ropes of his seed filling your pussy to the brim. He was pent up, so desperate that you wondered if his protectiveness earlier on in the night had just been because he was horny. 

“I love you…” he whispered, twitching as he came down from his high. “You know that?” 

“I do.” You nodded sincerely, words evading you as your chests fell against the others’, still entangled in each-others arms as your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily focusing on the others’ breaths and gentle caresses on bare skin. 

You didn’t care about the dress, or the gala, or the fact that you were going to have to run out for Plan B in the morning – simply the fact that it had been the first time he’d directly said ‘I love you’. 

Bruce knew he meant it with all his heart.

[ultralightpoe]

JUNO - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Gah, here we go again with the bucky fics since he looked so damn good in that trailer! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4215

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT.....and more smut.

Requests: OPEN

Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event

[Thank you for the gif @ayo-edebiri ]

Enjoy!

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it

Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

-

You were a terrible terrible person, this was a fact. It would be put on whatever wikipedia page they made for villains as soon as people figured it out, which considering the rage building in your body would be any moment now. Why were you a terrible person? That’s easy to explain. 

There was a time where everyone avoided your boyfriend like the plague, when the Winter Soldier cliche had been stuck to his image like a nail in a tire and everyone treated him like crap. And who stayed by his side? You. Not that it was ever about keeping score because you just wanted what was best for him. But now that people are all about kissing his ass since he had some new found fame? You wished things would go back to the way they were. And that made you a terrible person. 

Who would want things to go back when your love was treated terribly?

But then you see girls like Montana clinging to his side and that little green monster in the pit of your stomach begins growing and growing until it leads to moments like now, with you standing at the bar clutching your glass like it was the only thing tethering you to this earth. 

Yet another gala was being thrown, this time it was ‘Rockstars for Schooling Funds’ and Bucky was required to attend for PR. And attend your man did. The jacket, the tie, the pushed back hair and the hot ass glare. 

From the second you saw him ready for tonight you were ready to pull him into the bedroom and never leave, your skin grew hot just remembering the feeling of his hands roaming your body as you tried to lead him into the bedroom. He obviously didn’t fall for it and now you were here watching Montana hold onto his arm as she laughed at something he said. 

As if sensing your glare he turns to catch your eye, and you know that he was surveying your safety by the sharp look in his eyes and all you can think was ‘God bless your dads genetics’.  But you refuse to break for him, so you shrug and turn back to the bar ready to order yourself another drink. 

Best thing about wearing a dress like the one you were wearing tonight? Attention.  Within seconds the men at the bar were clamoring to buy you a drink, crooked smiles and lame pick up lines. The prized contender? The southern man with kind eyes wearing his very own black cowboy hat. 

This could be fun. 

“What’ll it be?” He drawls and you have to fight off the blush filling your cheeks just at the sound of it. 

“Hmm, I haven't decided yet.” You flirt, batting your lashes for a second. “Think you can help a girl out?”

“There’s the ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.” He reads off the little menu, looking up to you from under his hat, giving a smooth wink and you huff out a small laugh. 

“Would it be worth my time?”

“It’s the best on the menu from what I can see.” As if on cue you both look out to the crowd around you at the gala, with loud music and cheesy rockstar costumes, and whilst he is trying to make a point your eyes roam for a familiar head of hair. But the group that Bucky had been sitting with for the past 30 minutes was now short a member, your man. “Who would want to waste time with any of these cruds when you could have a real drink sugar?”

But the words were lost on you as your eyes traced over the room in a hurried panic. Where did he go?

But then your nose fills with a familiar woodsy scent as a familiar arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip that has the cowboy standing straight up in his own panic. 

“Yeah Doll, how bout a real drink?”

-

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

-

That little green monster building in your stomach? Now she had a fire pal burning straight through your skin at the image of the icy glare Bucky managed to send in the cowboys direction, the fingers on your waist tightening and digging into your skin. 

“I was just talking to my friend here about drinks.” You hum out, watching his jaw tighten as he continues to glare. “What do you know about drinks?”

The cowboy, who you now knew to be a foolish man since he still stood in that spot, lets out a smooth chuckle. “Considering he’s holding an old fashioned I would say not much, Sugar.”

“Really? I always thought that the old fashioned ways worked in seduction. At least they did for me.” Bucky all but growls out, pulling you closer to him. “Now how bout we ask the gal. Do my old fashioned ways work?” 

As if to prove his point he presses his thigh between your legs just a notch and squeezed at your waist, you were lost. 

“No words? Hmm? Interesting.” He smiles, “Think you need a break from the crowd?”

He doesn’t waste time waiting for an answer, rather he keeps his grip on your waist as he leads you through the large gala, keeping the glare on his features that has people backing away to avoid his anger. You however basked in it, and as he lead you into the bathroom with the slam of the door and an easy movement to lock the door. 

You got right to work, hopping onto the counter and wiggling a bit as he turns back to you. 

You look up at him through you lashes, kicking one foot out a bit to expose your leg to him. “I mean not that I don’t love this vibe, we didn’t pack the handcuffs baby.” 

“Oh so the pretty girl thinks she’s funny.” He chuckles, stepping forward and moving his hands to the top of your thighs to squeeze before pulling you forward harshly. “In case you haven’t realized it, this is the moment where you start giving me reasons to give you what you so badly want.” 

Words failed you as his palms roamed your skin, rubbing soft circles to begin pushing up your dress. 

“Oh, I’m the one in trouble here?” You huff, leaning back as he pushed his way in between your thighs. “Funny, here I was thinking of granting you mercy.”

“Oh that’s how we are playing it, huh?” And just like that he is pressing the pad of his flesh thumb right onto your core, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you tried to close your legs out of instinct only for him to press you down with his metal hand. “You were saying, sugar?”

“Oh…” You moan, back arching as he circles his thumb with a smug smile, leaning into you to pull your lips into a fervent kiss. It draws your breath until your gasping into him for air, your hands woven into his hair to keep him there and save you all in the same go while he teases at pulling your panties down only to pull back in a matter of seconds leaving you there to try and catch your breath. 

Seconds away from achieving your high only to be left stranded leaves you whining and leaning forward to get him back into your arms. 

He tsks at you, pushing you back gently as you continue whining. 

“What will you give me?”

“Anything.” You gasp out, kissing at the wrist of the hand holding you back, nipping at the flesh of it as you reach for him metal arm to pull you back in. He gives in a little, allowing you to press your hips into his so release some of the pressure. “Please baby.”

“Then how about you behave for the last hour, and we’ll go home and get you sorted. Yeah?”

“Fine,” You snip out, tracing your hand up his metal arm before making it to his collarbone and pressing your hips further into his. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

-

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might”

-

And you feel like a fool for making that promise as he leads you through the crowd once more, this time with a pressure begging to be released in your lower belly as he keeps his metal hand on your lower back. The chill of the metal while your body is ablaze has you reeling, reaching a hand back to keep a hold on him. 

You think of all the things he can do to you as he talks with the Galas president, digging your nails into the sleeve of his tux as you push your thighs together a bit, leaning your nose into him to inhale his scent as he talks with a bold presence. 

When that Montana girl comes back you learn that she is an assistant for the program and that little green monster leads you to nip at his ear in front of her before kissing at his neck to leave a lipstick mark. 

He looks at you for a moment, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before turning to talk to her some more but it’s too late, you’re already in a haze. The green monster and the red flame have mixed to make their very own monster. 

So you pull him in by his tie, pressing your lips to his ear and whispering the words you knew would break him. “Gimme me a baby.”

-

“Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

-

It was the one secret weapon you’ve never used, but have always known about. 

Back in the beginning of the relationship while you were learning the ins and outs of eachother you noticed how much he loved the pill since it hadn’t been too popular back in his day. He loved the freedom it gave him to mark you as his, but you also noticed the lingering gaze on your stomach and or the intent look he gave when you took the pill. 

But you had never been ready for a kid, you wanted to save that for that someone special who you could raise them with. But you knew that Bucky was it, you knew that he was your touch for life. Why not give in?

And the thrill of giving in the second his eyes meet yours makes it worth it, seeing the heat as he pulls you in so tight you might as well be one person. 

“Come on baby, one of me is cute but two though?” You whisper, leaning up to bite at his lip before his hands come up to pull you into a feral kiss as he begins to lead you out the doors. 

-

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself, hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

-

“Easy there.” He grunts out the second you press him into the seats of the limo, straddling him with ease as your nails rake down his chest to begin tracing the buttons of his shirt. “I might feel objectified.”

“I don’t give a shit,” You gasp, ripping his shirt open before attacking his chest with kisses. You take to kissing his chest, dragging your lips from spot to spot in order to mark him as much as you can as he pulls you down to move his hips into your with a groan. 

Your eyes flutter closed at the heat that crosses through your body at the sound, whining out a bit as he begins to grind into you, pulling you up from his chest with a swift pull to lock your lips together as the limo makes a turn. 

The kiss was feral, teeth gnashing, thigh clenching kiss that has you gripping his shoulders and pushing your hips into his a little quicker. Biting down onto his lip when he stills your hips with his hands before pulling back. 

“You gonna let me lock you down?” He whispers, rubbing your hip as he moves you with ease until your legs are splayed over his lap and he can reach between them to pull more moans from you. “Gonna let me keep you forever?”

“Yes….” You whine out the second he begins rubbing at your core once more, this time with the metal hand. The chill of the metal over the fabric is driving you crazy and you press your hips up for more pressure and as a sign you want the panties off. 

He is quick to oblige, pulling his hand to the waistband of them and ripping them off in one easy movement before pushing his fingers back to ease one into your center. “I’ll give you anything you want. But you already knew that when you said I could give you a baby. Didn’t you?”

And just like that he pushes two more fingers in, curling them in a fluid motion as his lips press into the pressure point of your throat. He works his fingers in a fast paced motion as you close your eyes and give into the feeling, letting him suck and bite at your neck as much as he wanted to. 

And once you reach your high he merely speeds up his movements until your shaking in his lap. 

“Atta girl.” He grunts, pulling his fingers up to suck on while you blink at him, still shaking from that orgasm. 

“I love you.” You murmur to him, leaning on for a gentle kiss. He laughs into it, rubbing at the back of your neck in a sweet gesture before putting your torn panties in his pocket and looking to see how close you are to home. 

-

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

-

The calm ease he had built up for the rest of the limo ride was quick to vanish the second the limo pulled up to the curb, pushing the door open and pulling you out so quickly your legs swing until he pulls you up so you can wrap them around his waist. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You giggle, letting him carry you inside until the front door closes and he can set you down to lock it. Even in the mix of all this he can never slack on your safety, and you were sure that once he spent all your energy he would come down here for one last safety check. 

You let him do what he needed to do, walking to the kitchen with a fleeting look to him before grabbing a glass of water to sip on while you waited, legs still a little shaky. But you don’t have much time since he comes around the corner into the kitchen, leaning on the fridge with a small smile as he watches you every movement. 

“Everything locked up and safe?” You ask, moving one step closer to him.

“Yes.” He responds, the deep voice causing a shiver to move down your spine as he takes a step similar to yours without taking his eyes off you. 

“I think it’s so hot you know.” One of his eyebrows raise at your words, the small smile turning into a smirk. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in this world as protective as you.”

He merely hums back, taking another step closer as his eyes roam over your body. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. And I was thinking that you deserved an award.” 

“I do?” You almost laugh at how innocent the question comes out, but you don’t have time since your already turning to press yourself into the counter, pushing your hips out and pulling your dress up to expose yourself to him as he audibly growls. “Have we every tried this before?”

-

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might”

-

His hands are upon you in an instant, rubbing at your hips as his body presses into yours to kiss at the back of your neck, and you realize that he is still wearing his undershirt and pants. The metal of the belt buckle digs into your back as you reach back to undo his belt. 

You hear him undo it and get ready, pressing your forehead into the tile of the counter as he grabs your hands and begins wrapping your hands together with the leather belt. And you should be embarrassed at the moan that fills the air once you realize what he is doing before he undoes his pants and you feel him press at your center. 

He’s quick to press in, and you both your moans fill the air as he presses his forehead into the exposed skin of your back before beginning to rut himself up into you. With every aggressive push of his hips into yours the doors of the cabinet on the counter shake, the cold tile of the counter hitting your hip over and over and over as he claims you for his own. 

With one hand holding the belt that is biting into the flesh of your wrists and the other holding the counter to keep you both stable he stands straight and lets free. Every harsh threat is followed by his grunts and your moans, the sound of skin slapping filling the room before the hand from the counter comes to hold your hair. 

It’s feral, and hot. And the feeling of his flesh hand pulling at your hair has you tightening around him enough that he can’t fight his own moan. 

And the second you hear it you are coming undone around him, shaking harshly as he keeps you held up before you collapse, continuing his thrusts until you reach the peak of the high once more and spasm around him. 

Once you come down, panting heavily and keeping your forehead pressed into the cold tile, he works on undoing his belt to release you as he pulls himself out of you and pulls his pants up. 

You are quick to turn on him, tears in your eyes partly due to the intense orgasm and the fact that you still haven’t gotten what you wanted. “Baby please….”

“Easy doll.” He whispers, pulling you into his arms to wrap himself around you, picking you up easily. “You’ll get it. Don’t you fret.”

-

“Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

-

He carries you into the bedroom bridal style, setting you down at the foot of the bed before leaning down to grab the end of your dress and pull it over your head, kissing his way up your body so slowly you feel like you might just die. By the time the fabric is over your head he throws it to the side, his gaze meeting yours in a tense blaze. 

You knew within an instant that he had gotten serious, and as you kept your gaze on his he let your hands roam until you begin pulling his undershirt off before you reach to undo his waistband. “What’s that look for?”

“Did you know….” He keeps his voice to a whisper as he kicks off his shoes and shucks off his pants, pulling off his socks and throwing everything to the side before moving his hands to either side of your cheeks. “That it’s not actually proven that the amount of orgasms a women has is connected to their ability to conceive.”

“Yeah?” You smile, waiting for him to get to the point 

“I did a lot of research.” He says proudly, “So though the amount of orgasms I give you don’t end up mattering in the end…..they sure are fun.”

And you can’t fight the loud laugh that escapes when he gently tackles you onto the bed, making it bounce a bit as he pushes your thighs open with his hands and pressing them into you by the backs of them. 

“You ready doll?”

“Always for you sergeant.”

-

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)”

-

He keeps the eye contact, soft and open, as he slides himself between your folds to use your past orgasms as his lubricant before pressing into your center and moaning a bit as he pushes himself in. Whereas the romp downstairs had been feral and fast this one started slow, allowing him to kiss at your face as you adjusted to his size this time. 

His weight presses you into the bed, and your hands find purchase at his back so he can pull himself back before pushing his hips back into yours. Slow and precise, every pull he left a kiss and every push has just enough friction on your core that has you arching your back. 

It had been years of him learning your body and by this point he knew how to play it like the back of his hand. It was his and he liked keeping what's his cared for. When you arched a little more he knew he should speed up, and when you closed your eyes he reached a hand down to grip at the fat of your ass, fingers digging in as he readjusted you both for more pleasure. 

And once you came around him, spasming and moaning loudly, all bets were off. 

-

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

-

His entire weight comes down, crushing you beneath him not that your complaining. Between the warmth of his skin and the mix of your sweat with his you both have traction to move as his thrusts turn wild. 

Over and over at a speed he hadn’t reached with you before, his eyes are clenched shut as he ruts into you, overstimulating you as you begin to sob from the pleasure. Your entire body shakes with every intense hump. 

Between his thrusts you meet your peak once more, screaming out as his own thrusts become erratic and harsher. 

By the time he finishes he leans down to your ear so you can hear the heavy moan that escapes him as he fills you to the brim, shaking and pinching you with his metal arm. And his release seems never ending as he continues to thrust, until you are both completely spent and collapse into the cool sheets. 

-

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)”

-

You had managed to fall asleep and only woke up at the realization that he wasn’t near you, vision blurry as you looked around. He had cleaned you up and tucked you in with a glass of water on the nightstand, but his side of the bed was  empty. 

So you sit up, ready to go check on him, until you realize how sore you were and stay on the bed to listen for him. You hear the sound of him shuffling around downstairs to check all the locks before he begins climbing up the stairs. 

You know he makes the noise for you, otherwise he would be as stealthy as an assassin. 

By the time he enters the doorway there is a small smile playing at his lips while you open your arms and pull him in to lay with you. 

“Goodnight.” You whisper. 

“Goodnight, Doll.”

-

“Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

-

The waiting was the most dreadful feeling. 

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub with the test sitting on the counter between where you sat and where your husband sat in the hallway with the back of his head laid against the door. 

It was silent but not in a malicious way, more of a calming way as his metal hand whirred before the alarm on your phone goes off and you both shoot up to look. 

“Is it…”

“I….”

And you both lean to look at the same time to see just how well those new positions took.

-

[ssahotchnerr]

I hope you meant it to be dropped here 🥺

So, about jealous Y/n: I had been thinking about this after seeing the episode where Beth (that runner-woman?) appears. I thought about the scene, with "y/n" either getting to know he was handed a paper with a number

Or maybe Aaron and "y/n" had been running together and Beth approaches without any care and reader just is like: 🤨 watching the interaction, lol

knowing you

🤭 cw; JEALOUS fem bau!reader, teasing banter (hehe r and aaron are sooo in love), suggestion/sex allusions (i'm blushing), based off of aaron and beth's first interaction in 7x10 wc; 1.3k

"Okay, okay." You panted, coming to a stop. You directed your voice forward, loud enough for Aaron to hear you, a few feet ahead. You resumed walking, slowly, hands on your hips. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked as he met you halfway, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "Can't keep up?"

"I can keep up jus' fine." You insisted, still catching your breath. The afternoon breeze blew into your face, cooling the sheer layer of sweat that had collected. "Just... not for a prolonged amount of time. There's a," Another staggered breath, "difference."

"Is there?" He asked humorously. His chest rose up and down, regulating his own breathing as well. "I can easily go another mile or two.

"Fantastic. I'm so happy for you." You quipped sarcastically, causing him to laugh and a smile of your own pulling at your lips. "And that's why you're the one participating in the triathlon. Not me."

"You know..." He began proposing in a light tone of voice, eyebrows raised wittingly. "There's still time for you to sign up."

"You know, you're funny." You bantered back, a pained expression pulling onto your face at the mere thought. You shook your head, "I think my time is better spent cheering you on from the sidelines, along with the others. And then reviving you afterwards."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. All banter aside, he switched tactics, softening to a sweet sincereness. "I appreciate you accompanying me. Seriously. You know you don't have to run with me, although you do inspire me to persistent. Gotta impress you, keep you interested."

"Please, as if there's anything you could do to cause me to become uninterested." You poked a finger at his chest. "And if running means I get to spend an extra hour with you, I'll gladly accept. Besides, there's something in it for me too. Makes it all worth it."

"And what's that?"

You looked around, spotting a park vendor supplying drinks, playfully brushing his question aside. "Want a water?"

The warm glint in his eyes lingered, admirably amused. One that read: you were the most difficult person he'd ever met, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Sure, sweetheart."

"I'll grab it," you began walking, "You stay here. Catch your breath."

Aaron grabbed your hand the moment you had stepped a foot away, smoothly drawing you back with just an equally suave grin. Once in reach, he placed his lips onto yours, interrupting your growing smile.

Your nose scrunched when the two of you parted, "You're all sweaty."

"That's never been a problem before." His smirk returned, the wet cowlicks draped over his forehead bringing a multitude of images to come to mind.

This is why you ran with him. You'd never deprive yourself the hot visual, one you'd never get tired of. The overexertion, the sweat, the defined athletic wear clinging onto his body, the heavy breathing too.

You playfully rolled your eyes, granting him another kiss before you trailed off. You steadied your breathing again, in attempt to slow your heart rate a second time.

Retrieving the waters couldn't have taken you more than five minutes: waiting in a small line, supplying cash, issuing a thank you. But when you turned back towards Aaron, your feet already moving to their own accord, you stopped short - suddenly. As he wasn't alone.

He was talking to some woman - brunette, in workout clothes of her own. Her backside was facing you, so you couldn't see any specific features; to determine who she was, a familiar face or not.

You tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of jealousy filling your body, drawing the conclusion that she wasn't an old friend rather quickly. It started from the bottom of your stomach, crawling up your spine, spreading widely to your limbs.

Could it be harmless? Sure, that's what you were telling yourself, until the woman in question handed him a small piece of paper. She began to retreat - finally - causing a breath of relief to escape you, until Aaron calls after her.

When she turns, you're able to see her face. She’s cute, all smiles and outwardly confident. She responds to whatever he said, follows it with a laugh, before continuing her jog. 

You bit your lip, returning to Aaron with a bit more urgency, your ponytail gliding swiftly between your shoulder blades.

"Here," You handed Aaron his water, your gaze moving past him and continuing to watch her leave. As if she can feel your stare, she looks back. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn she gave you a cunning smirk.

Your jaw clenched, nothing but that red-hot jealousy overtaking you. It blocks out all of your surroundings - Aaron's going on about something, but you don't hear him. He's muted, fuzzy, far away. You don't realize he's talking to you until he says your name, with a tad more volume.

You startle, blinking, "Sorry, what?"

"I said, do you want to go again? Or we can take a slow, evenly-paced walk back." His lips turned upwards humorously, taking a drink. "More your speed."

He's attempting to resume the ongoing, fun banter to draw your focus elsewhere, knowing you.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, nobody." He shrugged, securing the cap. "She just, er, handed me this." He explained carefully, holding up a small piece of paper.

He did it quickly; again, making it as nonchalant as possible. But even at the heightened speed you're able to see her number scrawled across the surface.

You immediately impede forward-

"Sweetheart," Just as he expected - he grabs your arm, holding you back from any impending confrontation you were set on.

"She gave you her number?" You looked at him, perplexed. The audacity. "Did you see the way she looked at me? She probably saw us kiss and yet-"

"I know, I know." He comforted, his voice a deep contrast compared to yours, hardening the more you spoke. He can practically feel you vibrating in fury. "Hey, it's okay. I'm discarding it, of course." He crumbled it in his fist, "Have zero need for it."

"But that doesn't excuse what she just did." You try to look past him again, but he uses his body to shield your view. "And I don't like it. Not at all."

"You're right, it doesn't, but it's okay." Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering his next sentence into your skin. "I'm yours. Nothing changes that."

"Damn right you are," you huffed, crossing your arms. Despite the distance (she's almost long gone by now), you're at the ready to grab Aaron, to kiss him fiercely if she ever so lightly takes a peek back.

"Forget about it, and I don't mean that in a dismissive way. Look at me when I say this," He tossed the paper in the nearby trash, grabbing ahold of your shoulders instead. "I'm uninterested. Unfazed. Utterly in love with you and greatly anticipating showing you how much once we're in the privacy of home. Preferably in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards."

He manages to pry a smile out of you, a blush forming at your cheeks, although it doesn't dissolve your pout just yet. "But..."

"But what?" He asked gently as he releases his hold, swiping his thumb across your cheek soothingly.

"What if she can run faster than me." You mumbled pitifully. You said so half jokingly, half seriously.

Aaron laughed warmly, spanning an arm over your shoulders and pulling you directly to his chest. "I highly doubt that."

"You promise?"

"With every ounce of me."