#i want to let him out. but it's like i need permission

[yung-notorious]

ALWAYS SOME NEW SHIT, AIN’T NEVER THE USUAL! I FUCK YOU SO GOOD TILL I HAVE YOU DELUSIONAL! - ♡

— your roommates are gone, the apartment is yours, and you're laid up in bed with somethin' dangerous. all you need is him, his hands, and a little time to make the most of it. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose my chapter 8, porn with plot, situationship, morning sex, that good 'ol sunday dick, protected sex, dirty talk, body worship, sub/dom undertones, trust & boundaries, slight cum play, squirting, riding, fingering, voice kink, gojo kink(?), edging & milking, overstimulation, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 5.8K, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: lick me - sexyy red ft. lil baby

You knew Satoru was bullshitting when he said he’d be on the phone for a few more minutes. He’s been chatting away for an extra thirty, and you’ve already gone through your entire Instagram feeds stories and now the Tiktok burnout is starting to set in.

Exhausted from doom scrolling, you chuck your phone somewhere across the bed to snuggle deeper into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. You don’t have a single fucking clue what’s being said anymore with his ear now pressed against the phone, but whatever it is definitely isn't related to earlier’s conversation. You think you catch mention of the school’s football team and the names of people you don’t recognize, but at this point, you’re too out of the loop to care. He’s lucky you actually like being around him, because had this been anyone else you’d probably kick them out telling them to go the fuck home.

What’s even more surprising is that despite being bored out of your mind, chilling with him in bed while he talks on the phone is strangely confronting. You’ve had your share of intimate moments at your young age, but you’ve never simply laid up like this with a guy before. It’s domestic as hell— whatever the girls online call it— but you’re not pushing it away. 

Resting your head on his chest as he rubs your shoulder, you let the rhythm of his voice wrap around you like a warm blanket. There’s this cool boyish charm that comes through as he talks— a side of him you’ve caught glimpses of only a few times when he’s speaking to his friends. He’s more commanding and animated, yet somehow still a relaxed version of himself all together, nearly a polar opposite of how he is with you.

And you know what? That’s exactly how it should be, you’re not the one to be treated like a homie. And even though his friends do annoy the hell out of you when they’re together, seeing him be himself with them is undeniably attractive and lowkey turning you on. 

Shifting over onto your stomach, you tuck an arm behind his neck, hooking a leg around his waist, letting your free hand slowly trail down his body feeling him up. Stopping to rest your hand on the inside of his thigh, you look up, waiting for a reaction. 

When you don’t get one— he’s still chatting away— you decide to take it a step further, slowly creeping your hand up to cup his balls, palming his bulge. 

It only takes a couple good rubs for you to feel his dick harden beneath you. Feeling bold, you wrap a tight fist around his length stroking him through his briefs. All it takes is a couple tight ones for his thighs to widen up and you take that as permission to go further. 

Slipping a hand under his waistband to squeeze his dick, you watch him bite his lip, still ignoring you as he lazily stares up at the ceiling. He can try to act all cool and unbothered all he wants, but you know exactly how to melt his ice.

Taking charge, you rub your thumb carefully around his slit, your acrylic nail getting caught in the fabric of his briefs with each pressing circle. It doesn't take much effort before you’re feeling the wetness of his pre sticking to the pad of your thumb as you. Pausing to collect up what you can to wet his shaft, you grip your hand back around his length giving him more quick strokes.

Feeling more daring, you connect your lips to his neck, slowly peppering soft, wet kisses along his skin as you continue working your hand around his dick and balls. You’re finding some sort of fun in all this really, feeling him up in every which way you please while he lays beside you trying to act like he’s not bricked the hell up. 

You can hear every grunt that gets stuck in his throat and cracking of his toes each time you press against the underside of his tip. It’s kind of funny how you’re unsure who’s more of a slut now: you for daring to do this, or him for letting it happen while he’s on a call. Y’all are both some trouble! 

Just as you’re about to go for a gentle bite on his ear you feel the deep bass of his voice against your lips. 

“Choso— Choso…bro I’ma let you go…I’ll try to be over there later tonight. Alright, I'll talk to you later. Bye.” He ends the call to lean over— your hand still tightly wrapped around his dick— to drop his phone onto the nightside with a loud thud.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his composure, it’ll be his own body that will betray him every single time. Men, they’re so fucking weak. You probably could rob him with a fleshlight.

Falling back onto the mattress, he turns to give you a look before opening his mouth, and of all the things you expect him to say, it definitely isn’t, “Why’d you interrupt my phone call?”

“Because you talk too much.” You say smart, releasing him to wipe your hand clean on his briefs along the side of his hip. Sitting up on your elbow to rest your cheek in your hand, you hover above his face to stare down at him challengingly, awaiting his response. This could go one or two ways, but you know for sure either way ends with you getting fucked. 

"All I needed was a few minutes.” He murmurs, his hand glides up your chest stopping just below your neck before gently tracing your jawline with his thumb. 

“I gave you that, now I want your attention.” You cock your head. “Did you forget where you were at?”

"You have it— so now what’s up?" He asks, his tone still soft, eyes locked on yours as he tilts your chin up just as your hand slides over to squeeze his thigh.

“You know what I want…” You breathe, inching closer to his bulge. 

“Yeah?” He lets go of your chin, trailing his hand down your chest. “You don’t have to ask me— could have just pulled it out.” Eyes still locked on yours as you slip a hand under his waistband.  

Letting you go, he gives you space to slip under the covers, lifting his hips to help you tug off his briefs. The second they're gone, your hand is around him, leaning over to take him between your lips. You know exactly how he likes it— your mouth and hand wrapped tight around the tip, teasing him with just the right amount of pressure that’ll make his toes curl.

You know you're doing a good job when his hand resting at the back of your neck tightens, turning into a firm grip that keeps you exactly where he wants you. Not wanting to try your luck deep throating him just yet, you brace yourself with a hand on his thigh for balance, but soon find yourself running your hand along the muscle instead, grabbing on wherever please, feeling out their solid weight and smoothness. Even though his dick is the main event— hot, thick, and heavy in your hands each time you pull off to catch your breath— it’s his thighs that have your full attention. Maybe next time you'll leave a trail of bites and hickeys along them, marking him up good just because you can.

“Get in between my legs...” He throws the covers back making room for you. Without a second thought, you crawl between his thighs, and just as you’re about to shift down the bed to lay on your stomach, his voice interrupts.

“Uh-uh, sit up...” He whispers, and despite it being nothing more than a gentle correction, it still finds a way to make your stomach tingle. You can’t even lie, that bossy shit turns you up. Glancing up at him, you slowly prop yourself up on your elbows to part your knees just enough, arching yourself down low, nice and sexy in a way you know he’ll like. 

Bobbing your head up and down his dick, you lose track of every grunt and curse you pull past his lips. The wet, squishy sounds from each tight squeeze, paired with the clacking of your pretty nails around his dick, become a rhythm you get lost in until the growing dampness in your panties pulls you back in. Fuck, you’re going to have to speed this up because you really want to fuck now.

“Sloppy, baby. Make it—” His voice breaks off, caught in his throat as you pull off to throw a nasty wad of spit on his dick, watching as it drips down his length. “There you go…” He murmurs, a grin tugging at his lips. You don’t even need to look up to know he’s smiling. Anything for him, right?

“Gotta get the sides too. All of it. Just how I taught you...” His words make your stomach tighten. Glancing up through your lashes, you latch onto his shaft, tongue tracing long, slow licks along his length. The salty taste of him mixing with the slick of your spit as you pump the head of his dick with a tight fist.

“Sloppier…spit on it some more…get that shit wet for me…” He murmurs, bringing his hands down into your hair to gently pull back to keep out of your face. Taking a moment to lick his pre-cum and drool off your lips, you teasingly slap his dick against your tongue, testing its weight. Spitting down onto him again, you let it drip slow and messy before taking him back into your mouth, your lips wrapping tight around him. As you glance up, you catch him smiling down at you, and you can’t help but sheepishly smile back. You used to hate giving head, but for him— talking to you like this— you’ll keep going till he busts in your mouth twice. 

You swear everytime he looks at you like that, something inside you loosens up. You never thought sex could be like this— fun, messy, and so damn freeing. That it’s not just about getting him off; but letting yourself enjoy it too. 

Remembering the times he’s whispered for you to drop your innocence and open up awakens those butterflies in your stomach. It’s a mystery how in such a short time of knowing him, he’s managed to create a safe space for you to let go and push past the boundaries you once clung to— all without a hint of judgment. 

But no matter how amazing everything feels with him, there’s this nagging thing that won’t leave you alone—a constant reminder of how off this all this really is. No matter how hard you try to push it aside, the truth is starting to feel impossible to shake, and the longer you avoid the elephant in the room, the harder it becomes to hold it all together. It’s doubt that creeps in at the end of every night, makes you wonder if any of this is even real. But fuck it, you don’t have the time to make any sense of it right now. You can talk it out with Tink later, you have to get this nut in. 

"Ahmp!" You bite back a moan, caught off guard as his hand slaps your ass right when he shifts to sit up.

“Come up here…” He says, and without a second thought, you slide your soaked panties off to straddle his lap. Once fully seated, you wrap your hand around his dick, stroking him from behind your back, while your other hand rests against his shoulder for support. You can feel your wetness sticking against him, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to be a horny bunny and grind your sloppy wet pussy against his chest.

“You know where that condom at?” The question catches you off guard, making you pause— again, definitely not what you expected to hear. Someone’s full of surprises today, huh?

“Yeah, why?” You give him a confused look.

“It’s early, and I’m still kinda tired…I don’t wanna have to worry about pulling out. It be in the back of my mind when we fuck...” He says, warm hands smoothing along your stomach then up around your ribs.

Okay, cool, good to know at least one of you is trying to be responsible. Condom? Sure. Not a problem!

“I think it’s in here.” You lean over, trying to search in the top drawer of your nightstand without tipping over. “Hold me.” You warn, feeling yourself about to topple over. His hands quickly find your waist steadying you. 

“I got it.” You find it stuck beneath a pile of clutter you've been meaning to sort out.

Handing him the gold foil, you scoot back a bit, giving him space to do his thing. As much as you love the feeling of raw sex, there’s something seriously hot about watching him work a tight fist along his length, struggling to stretch the latex over his girth. And as if that wasn’t enough, the damage your sanity takes from his dick snapping back against his abdomen when he lets go is downright disrespectful. 

“Come on— ready?” He grabs you at your ribs, pulling you forward towards him, your breath hitches at his sudden eagerness. “You don’t need this…” He tugs at your shirt, and the second it’s off he’s grabbing hold of your boobs, squeezing them and sucking on your nipples like a baby. Never too tired to suck titties, huh!?

Taking your hand to guide his dick to your entrance, you carefully sink down onto the tip. Yet, no matter how many times you’ve done this, the feeling of just the head pushing through is one that’ll never get easier even with time. 

It’s harder this time around— his dick— no pun intended. After nearly a week of constant sex, you have no choice but to take him slow, inch by inch, feeling yourself clench around him as you sink down.

“Gimme a second…” You plead, pressing your hand against his chest to keep him from bucking his hips up. On a good day you could take all of him, but with the way he’s bricked up, you’re not trying to bite off more than you can chew. See, this is that early morning dick, It’ll be a lot more than hurtful words flying out of your mouth if he so much as attempts to push you down. 

“Take your time…” He teases, bringing both his hands to rub soothing circles along your jawline, fingers combing through your tresses around your nap. “Too much?”

“It’s enough— you’re not little.” You laugh, bouncing slowly on his length, giving your wetness a chance to moisten the condom as you try to fully take him in. It’s painstakingly slow working your sore pussy down his stiff dick, but guess this is the price you pay for letting him fuck you like a dog all week. 

“My bad…” He chuckles. “Here, come lay on my chest— hmm.” He pulls you into his arms. Slanging one around your back, he scoots the both of you further down the bed gripping a handful of your ass to help guide you down his length.

“It’s too dry…” You come back up, the friction of the condom becoming unbearable as you feel yourself drying up from frustration. This isn’t working.  

“I got you…” He brings two fingers to his mouth to wet them. Pulling out, he uses those same fingers to stroke your pussy, rubbing tight circles on and around your clit. Burying your face in his neck to stifle your moans, you feel yourself grow wetter as he whispers filthy praises in your ear, urging you on. 

“This better?” He lips brush against the shell of your ear. Your thighs quiver with each teasing stroke to your clit, the oversensitivity heightening your arousal. And like a slut you can’t do much but moan against his neck when you feel those same two fingers sink into your heat. Curling deep, giving himself a feel around your velvety walls.

“Mhm…” You nod, slowly rolling your hips down to ride his hand. The exploratory movements of his fingers driving deep, stroking your g-spot. “Right there…fuck…right there…” 

“I got you baby…I got you...” His palm presses against your clit as he drives his fingers even faster making sure to hit that sweet spot over and over, he’s so damn deep he could poke your cervix if he pleased. “…you’re squeezing baby, relax for me…there you go…how that feel, good?”

“Toru…I’ma fucking squirt…” You warn, already feeling yourself start to leak. Shit feels so fucking good he needs to publish a wikiHow on finger stroking pussy.

“Show me— go ‘head baby…you know I got you…” He exhales heavily, his other hand running through your hair to hold you close to him as he bullies your pussy like a pro, digging your coochie out so good, leaving her sorer than when you started. It’s a good soreness though, a sweet discomfort that’s nothing more than a reminder of how throughly he’s fucked you the past week. 

“Fuck— hmmmm!” You grip his hair tight, trying your damn hardest to hold back the moan that’s fighting to erupt from you, but it’s no use because all it takes is one final stroke to your g-spot and you're cumming harder than a bull.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, clenching down on his fingers so tight he has to pull them out. Taking his hands to strum your pussy to keep you squirting, your thighs shake with such a force you have no choice but to cling onto him for dear life. A wave of pleasure hits you so intense your entire body electrifies like static off an old box TV across your chest and shoulders. His fingers are pruney once he lets go, all gooed up and coated with sticky globs of your cum.

Wiping his fingers clean on your thigh, he effortlessly guides your soaked pussy all the way down his dick, and a sweet moan comes up your throat once you’re fully seated. You’re so damn wet you can’t even feel the condom anymore, if it was any darker in here you wouldn’t even be able to tell he had one on.

“Bet that rose can’t do it like me, huh?” He teases, two hands at your waist rocking you forward. “I got you making a mess. Wetting the bed all up...”

“Heh— please shut up…” You laugh, catching your breath. Because of course he’d make a joke eight inches deep in your pussy. No matter how good his dick is it’ll never take away from how corny he can be sometimes.

Regaining your strength, your hands find his shoulders again to steady yourself as you begin a slow pace bouncing on his dick. It starts off a lot sweeter this time, nothing like your usual. No creaking bed or pounding headboard, just the quiet sound of your soft moans and his low grunts filling the room. 

You’re fully lost in the moment when his hips start to move in perfect sync with yours, the delicious drag of his dick massaging your walls coaxes the softest, neediest whimpers past your lips. You’re so in love with his dick, you’re serious when you say you’ll fuck him up if you ever find out he’s sharing, because this shit right here makes no sense. It’s too damn good!

“More…right there…” You whine, needing to feel him deeper. Gripping your ass in response he presses his heels into the mattress, pulling your hips closer towards him to fuck up into you so well you have to put a hand to his chest to hold him back. 

You totally get the need for the condom now— thankful for it even— because with the way he’s fucking you this damn good you don’t think he could push you off quick enough before he’s busting his load. And as bad as you want it, you’d hate to dip into that hundred dollars he gave you to spend half of it on a Plan B. 

“Toru...Toru...Toru.." His name spills from your lips over and over as your brain goes fuzzy, slipping into a dizzy, dick drunken state. He's gripping you up just so right, and every stroke to your g-spot has you coming further undone, scattering every thought in your head until there's nothing left but his voice and touch occupying your mind. 

“You’re so fucking pretty baby…didn’t I say I’d fuck you everyday? Hmm?” His voice rings. 

“Thursday…Friday…Saturday…Sunday…” He murmurs, each day punctuated by a slow, deliberate thrust in sync with the roll of your hips. “You love this dick, don’t you?” He breathes, his hand coming down heavy giving a sharp slap against your ass. 

“I do…” You whine, almost like a declaration, as you pull his hands off your waist to guide them up your chest to cup your boobs, lacing your fingers through his to show him how to squeeze them just right. 

You feel so incredibly fucking sexy bouncing on his dick, riding him like it’s been a while and you miss him. You’re trying your hardest to keep it classy for him, but with one more slap to your ass, you’ll be begging him to take the safety off and hit your pussy raw from the side till it goes numb. You hope he’s loving this shit, because you’re not letting him get up in you for at least a week after this one. Your coochie needs a break!

“I wanna cum…” You whine, searching his face for permission, but he doesn’t hear you, too focused on working his own nut out.  

“I wanna cum…” You whine again, your hands come down to press against his chest to grind your pussy down hard on his dick. You got him buried so deep inside you the weight of your hips are holding down his. 

“You tryna be done already?” His hips still, falling flat as he watches you chase your orgasm all on your own.  

“No. Just don’t move…” You plead, trying to keep him from messing up your rhythm as you hit that sweet spot like a drum. It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to rise up your body, making your face flush hot and your heart rate pick up. You’re almost there! 

“Don’t move— don't move— I’m close…fuck…ahh” You babble out, toes curling. Almost there, you’re almost there!

“Damn boo…” The pet name rolls off his tongue effortlessly, bringing you into focus, your eyes meeting his right as he wraps a firm hand around your neck holding you in place. You got him pussy drunk acting rough and nasty just how you like it.  “When you start taking dick like this? You showing off for me today?” 

“Mmmm— fuck me after I cum…” You say through a smile, his thumb brushing gently underneath your chin. The look in your eyes clear— you’re trying to get broken off like a Kit-Kat. You want it rough, and you know he’ll deliver. He’s got you. 

“Say that again?” He asks as if he can’t understand a word you’re saying. There’s no denying that your voice turns him on. But it’s cool, you have no problem spelling it out for him. 

“I said I want you to fuck the shit out of me after I c— ahmp!” You yelp, a wave of giddy pleasure washing over you from the sting of his heavy hand landing across your ass again.  

“One more time for me?” He pulls you forward, a devilish look in his eyes waiting for you to soften into submission in his hands. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad.” You whine, voice dripping with so much need. You don't give a fuck how you sound right now, his dick drilling your pussy deep, it’s thick head messaging against your puffy walls. “I wanna feel all of it— oowww— mmmm— Fuck! You feel so fuckin— ahh good!—” You moan out, each and every one of his deep strokes punching the words from out of your chest.   

“You don’t want it.” He taunts, a smirk tugging at his lips daring you to prove him wrong— to show him just how badly you want it— to beg. The sudden shift in dominance sends your heart racing, and you find yourself rocking your hips even faster.

It’s this dynamic that you love the most: how one minute he’s soft and tender, talking you through with the filthiest yet gentlest whispers, and the next, commanding and rude, giving you the space to surrender completely and embrace your submissive side. It’s the perfect balance of give and take, and with him talking in your ear nasty like this, you’re more than willing to give it all up and let him lead. 

“Yes I do— fuck…fuck…” You moan breathlessly, lost in the wave of pleasure taking you under. “Make me cum…” You look down at him with those needy doll eyes, the kind that silently beg for more, even as you roll your hips slow and deliberate like the little minx you are, teasing him just enough that you know will drive him wild. 

Every move is a silent challenge, a tease, a true test of his strength and you’re doing it because you know exactly what he wants, and he’s already right there ready to meet you. His hands find your waist again, gripping you firmly, and that awaiting spark of dominance lights up his eyes as he pulls you in close.

No one but him can bring this side out of you, the one that craves to be taken, to be pushed to the edge. You know he’s been holding back, waiting for you to push him there, and now, you’ve done it. His hand then tightens around your frame, the tension in his body radiating through every inch of him, and that tells you everything you need to know; you’ve got him right where you want him, you can let go. 

“You not gonna run?” He presses, but you know your answer is meaningless. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried. 

“No—” You whine, the sound barely escaping your throat as you bounce, the strain in your knees starting to intensify with each movement as you chase your orgasm. 

“No, what?”  Another good grab to your ass, this time with two hands and enough grip to bounce you on his dick himself, fucking up into with a force that causes you to fall forward, nails digging into his shoulders as you cling onto him. “Tell me baby…go ‘head.”

“Fuck…Gojo— Go— AHMP!” Another heavy slap to your ass before you can catch your breath to repeat it. “I’m not gonna run Gojo— I'm not gonna run—”

“You know I love hearing you say it…” He beathes heavy, one hand now threading through your hair to grip your tresses tight, the other fucking you down his dick. “You gonna cum on this dick? Yeah?”

“Yes! Fuck— Fuck— Gojo! Gojo!” You choke out, orgasm fully taking over each and every one of your senses. 

“Again baby…come on…this your dick right…” He breathes, voice low and hot in your ear, hips bucking up fast as another heavy slap comes down to your ass. “Don't run from it…don’t run from it.”

“Fucckkkk— Oh my godddddd! Keep going! Keep going! Don’t stop! Yes! Yes!” You cry out, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you can feel the rim of the condom scratching against your entrance. The intensity of your grip threatens to pull it loose as it’s already slipped off some. 

“Mmmmm— there you gooo~“ He coos, sensing you reached your climax seeing the way your jaw goes slack and your grip around him tightens. 

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You’re begging like slut now throwing your arms around him to tuck behind his neck. Feeling you lose yourself, you take your fingers to work them up to brush along his undercut, anything to try and keep you grounded.

“Kiss on my neck…yeah…just like that for me— “ He moans, as you press your lips against his skin, licking hungry, wet, and sloppy. “Just like that…”

“Where you want me to nut?” His question meets your ear with urgency, the pace of his thrusts quickening in such a way that you can tell he’s close to cumming.

“Anywhere…I don’t care—” You gasp, words spilling, your body trembling with anticipation. Stupidest fucking question he could ask right now. He can bust it on your tits, ass, pussy, or even your face. You don’t care as long as his hot cum drips off your body, ready for him to scoop up and feed to you like you’re Suki.

“Shit!— Get up! Get up!” He groans, lifting you up just enough to pull off the condom to jerk his dick. 

“Gimme your hand…” He takes yours to grab his length, wrapping his large hand around yours, guiding you as you both help work his nut out. Both of your bodies are hot and sweaty, and his heavy breathing is perfectly in sync with yours. Your thighs coming down from a trembling mess.

“Like that baby….mmmm…you gonna kiss it when you're done?” He hums through a smile, head thrown back in pure bliss. It doesn’t take more than a few tight strokes for you to feel his dick pulsate, his hot cum spills out running down both your knuckles sticking your fingers together. 

“Oowww— it's so much!” You giggle, endorphins still having you feeling like you're on cloud nine as you watch amazed by the amount of cum he’s spilling, feeling a warm milky streak run sticky down the back of your hand. 

“Fuck—” He exhales, chest heaving as he starts to come down from his climax. His arms drop limply to his sides, but you stay right where you’re sitting on his chest, reaching back as you keep working the cum out of his still hard dick. 

You can feel him twitch with every pull as you coax the last drops of cum from him. There’s just something so sexy about the way his breath stutters and his toes crack as they curl with each slow tug…like you’re draining him of every ounce of cum he has left.

“That’s it…baby…that’s it…alright that’s it…stop…” He warns, voice strained and his face balling up, eyes shut tight as he tries to fight back a guttural moan. You feel his abs tense up underneath you, throwing off your balance but you take a hand to his chest— now flushed red and glistening with sweat— to hold him steady, fist tightening around his dick to jerk him quicker. 

“Uh-uh, there’s more, look…lemme get it all out for you.” You tease with a playful laugh, tightening your hold around him. “Just relax, it doesn’t hurt.” You purr, your voice dropping low and sweet. More cum spilling with every pull. 

“Oh my g— Yooooo! Stop! Stop! Stop! Bro! Stop!” He gasps, body jerking involuntarily from not being used to the overstimulation. His hips shake under your grip as if trying to escape, but he’s trapped under the weight you’re pressing down on him.

“Bro!? I’m not your bro!” You scoff with a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at the fucking nerve to address you by anything other than something ladylike! Goofy ass, now you’re really not letting up. He must have you confused for someone else. 

“I swear to god,  if you make me nut again— Fuck!” He growls, head tipping back as he wraps a tight hand around your wrist trying to stop you.

“Satoru, you don’t scare me— let go!” You mock, your hand steadily working his dick, grip unwavering even as his strength weakens less and less from every stroke.

“What happened to all that shit you were talking, hmm?” You pause, watching him closely. “Bet that hand can’t do it like mine?” 

“I’ma fuck you up after this…I’m so serious…watch.” He breathes out, a shaky laugh breaking through, his grip on your wrist loosens completely as he gives in, letting you milk him for everything he’s got. He’s probably dead serious too, but the way his fine ass is squirming under you is too entertaining to give a damn. And to be honest, that just sounds like a promise for round two and that’s not striking fear in your heart— or pussy. Ain't no fun when the rabbits got the gun now is it? We can go till the fucking bed breaks boo, y’all got all the time in the world today!

“Schhhhhoooowwww— oh my god!” He groans, his plump lips parting with a low, desperate growl. “Alright c’mon, chill! Stop!” 

“Keep lying telling people I snore, and I’ma tell your friends you moan like a bitch." You taunt, leaning closer. Pressing more of your weight down on him, your strokes turn into slow teasing massages around the tip of his dick with your palm. 

“You still mad over that?” His eyes open meeting yours as his hands grip the sheets in an attempt to hold back from cumming. He can try to look intimidating with those blue eyes all he wants, but they aren’t moving you.

“I don’t get mad, I get even.” You bite back with a whole lot of sass, letting his dick go the moment you feel your hand start to cramp up. He jerks slightly, caught off guard by your sudden release. “Told you to stop trying me.”

“Clean yourself up~” You shoot him a look, wiping your cum-sticky hand off his chest as you ease yourself off his body and slide off the bed.

“Fuck you…” You hear him mumble under his breath with a laugh as you search the sheets for your phone, panties, and top before making your way to the bathroom to pee.

“What!?” You give him a look back, the fakest mean scowl you can muster up right now. 

“Nothing— Fuck…” The back of his head hits the pillow again as he exhales deeply. 

"Oh, okay! Like I won’t sit my ass on your chest and kill you. Talk to me nice." You fire back playfully, slipping on your top after giving up on the search for your panties— probably somewhere tangled up in the sheets.

Finding your footing, you cross the room to unplug the diffuser you left on throughout the night. With a gentle click, its light shuts off. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind you, leaving him to figure out what the hell just happened. You too are going to need a few minutes alone to yourself after this one. 

[interruptedtrance]

Hold my hand (oscar x reader x lando)

Smut; 18+

contains: the boys being needy, masturbation, pet names

the boys finally return to you after an exhausting triple-header.

masterlist

“welcome home!” you say while running up to your boyfriends to give them each a kiss, “i have missed you both so much”.

once all of you pile into your shared room, oscar, as the last one in, closes the door, while lando is still tugging you along, now into the comfort of your bed. you shuffle into your designated spot in the middle, turning your back to the older boyfriend while gently guiding one of his arms across your middle, and using your other arm, to lift the covers, you invite your other boyfriend to join.

“likewise” they answer in unison, dropping their bags, and adjusting so one can hug you from the back and the other from the front. “let’s go to bed, it’s already late” lando mumbled while yawning, making both you and oscar yawn in return.

carefully removing himself from the hug he locks his fingers with yours and with a gentle but firm tug makes you follow him to the bedroom, making you glance back at oscar, outstretching your hand, you silently invite him to join you both.

“thank you, baby” oscar whispers before he kisses your lips.

lando pouts “no fair, why didn’t i get a kiss”, making you sigh, you turn around and softly put your lips together, in the meantime oscar moves closer to you, his chest now pressing against your back, and his firm arm squeezing you closer to him, making you pull away from lando.

“no fair, he got a longer kiss” oscar teases, making you smile in return, turning your head towards him and puckering your lips, which he eagerly accepts into a kiss. you tried gently prying your head back, in hopes of breaking the kiss, but it just made oscar follow and deepen the kiss, your cheeks now burning, finally understanding what they wanted from you.

finally separating to catch your breath, you look at him and nod your head, giving him approval to go further, kissing you quickly on the lips, making your teeth touch, he both mumbles an apology and thanks. oscar’s warm hands now at the hem of your shirt, while lando’s intertwine with your underwear, they both, at the same time, rid you of your clothing.

“i need you closer” oscar whines into your neck.

oscar moves in between your legs, gently grabbing them and placing both of them on his hips, he aligns himself with your entrance and with one move bottoms out, pulling a whine from your lips.

he gives you a second to adjust to his length, while peppering your face with kisses making you smile tiredly at him, which he takes as permission to move. gently he rocks his hips against yours, making himself groan and pulling silent moans out of you, which only makes lando move his hand down to his growing member.

“how?” you ask, lightly laughing, he just whines in return grabbing your left palm and intertwining your guys fingers together. now you understand how clingy the distance has made your boyfriends. so you trail your right hand down lando’s abs, to his member trying to replace his hand.

he grabs your hand with his other, and like oscar intertwines your fingers together, softly squeezing your palms together, making you glance over to him, where he catches your lips in a gentle but passionate kiss.

[delilahsturniolo]

casual — m.s

in which . . . you get your virginity taken from your best friend matt, after he finds out you’ve never had sex.

warnings . . . smut, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex and more.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“i know what you tell your friends.”

“it’s casual, if it’s casual now.”

you were currently over at matt’s house, it was just the two of you chilling together in matt’s room. you were both bored out of your mind, so you decided to play a classic game of never have i ever

“okay…my turn.” you exclaimed, sitting up. “never have i ever cheated on a test!” you asked, grinning. matt lightly chuckled, slowly putting a finger down. you still had all 10 fingers, you hadn’t done any of the things matt had asked.

“come on y/n, these are lame questions.” matt rolled his eyes, you only shrugged your shoulders.

“what? i don’t know what else to ask.”

“let’s spice it up a little at least?” matt questioned you, tilting his head to get a better look at you. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“spice it up how?” you asked, a little intrigued but nervous at the thought.

“we can start by letting me ask the questions.” matt smiled teasingly, you huffed and agreed.

“okay…go ahead.” you said, putting your hands up again. matt was determined to get you to put at least one finger down, there was no way you were this innocent.

“never have i ever…kissed someone?” matt asked, putting one of his fingers down. you stayed completely still, your finger not going down like matt had expected.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “you’ve never kissed anyone?” he asked you, a puzzled expression on his face. you shook your head. “no…” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.” matt teased.

“am not!” you replied back.

“alright…never have i ever had sex?” matt knew what your answer was going to be, he just wanted to confirm. matt put his finger down, but you didn’t move yet again.

“i didn’t know you were a virgin.” matt expressed, looking up at your face, that was completely flustered.

“i know…it’s embarrassing isn’t it?” your voice got softer, matt immediately shook his head.

“no no no, not at all.” matt reassured you, your body language was tense and hesitant. you didn’t really want matt to know you were a virgin, you just never found the right person, having sex was a huge fear of yours.

“i’m just…i’m just afraid.” you whispered, your voice weak. matt’s expression softened at your words.

“that’s completely normal, it’s okay to be afraid.” matt spoke back to you, a hint of care and concern laced in his voice, he had such a soft spot for you. however, he was stone cold to everyone else. everyone else but you.

you nodded, looking down at your lap. you stayed quiet, not knowing what else to say. that was, until matt spoke up.

“i could…maybe help you get over that fear?” matt requested, his voice barely above a whisper. your eyes widened.

“what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he was saying.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want-“ matt started speaking, but you quickly interrupted him.

“no no no! i want to.” you abruptly replied, fiddling with your gold necklace as you and matt locked eyes for a moment.

“are you sure?” matt asked you, confirming that you were okay with this and that he wasn’t pressuring you.

you trusted matt more than anyone in the world, so you nodded your head. matt scooted closer to you on the bed, gently grabbing your waist.

“i need to hear you say it then.” matt told you, his voice deep and seductive. you felt so attracted to him, even though you both were best friends. it didn’t feel weird though, not at all.

“yes please.” as soon as those words came out of your mouth, matt smiled, feeling reassured that you trusted him. his hands gripped your waist once more, gently laying you down on the bed.

matt hovered over you, his hand cupping your cheek as he gently pressed a light kiss to your face before placing his other hand on the hem of your shirt.

“can i?” matt asked you once again, you nodded. he slowly pulled your shirt off, trying to be as gentle as possible.

he unbuttoned your jeans and unclasped your bra, leaving you just in your underwear. you allowed him to do all of this, just because it was matt. you wouldn’t let anyone else do this with you.

matt smirked at the wet patch present on your white laced underwear. he leaned in to you, pressing kisses and sucking on your neck, leaving marks as he trailed kisses down your body.

you moaned lightly from feeling matt’s touch, your moan was music to matt’s ears.

as matt’s hand trailed down to your panties, he looked at you, silently asking for permission. after you said yes, he slipped your underwear off and threw it to the side.

“y/n? can i ask you something?” matt’s gentle voice beamed throughout the room. “hm?” you mumbled, looking up at him. you were completely naked beneath him, his blue eyes locked with yours.

“have you ever touched yourself?” he asked you. you shook your head. “no…is that bad?” you whispered, looking at him with worry in your eyes.

“not at all love, that’s okay!” matt reassured.

you started feeling slightly overwhelmed. this was really happening, you were about to lose your virginity. it was all hitting you at once. matt noticed the worry in your eyes, he immediately took his hands off of you.

“hey hey hey, what’s going on? what’s wrong?” matt asked you, worry present in his voice. you bit your lip, your hands shaking.

“matt—i’m scared.” your voice wavered as you looked up at him. matt’s gaze softened even more, he gently rubbed the side of your arm.

“y/n…it’s gonna be okay. i’m gonna take care of you, i won’t hurt you, i’ll be as gentle as i can. if you’re ever uncomfy with something i’m doing tell me, okay?” matt quietly explained to you, you nodded your head, feeling better immediately.

“i can talk you through it if you want?” matt requested, you agreed, knowing it would make you feel better if he was talking to you.

“please.” you murmured, matt nodded in understanding. he gently parted your legs, his hands caressing your inner thighs.

your breath hitched as his thumb circled over your clit, it was a weird sensation, but it felt so good. you moaned softly, his thumb gently collecting your slick.

“i’m gonna stretch you out mkay? let me know if you need me to stop.” matt assured, his eyes not leaving yours once. his finger plunged into your pussy, his pace slow and steady as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

“o—oh my g—gosh..” you moaned out, your back arching against the bed as matt quickened his pace slightly, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

you felt the burn of the stretch, but it quickly disappeared and turned into pleasure as your moans filled the room.

“mm..feel good?” matt mumbled, his voice wavering. you were so attractive in this state, he could do this for hours.

“s—so good..” you whimpered as he added another finger. matt pulled out his fingers from your core, sucking them in his mouth with a loud pop.

he quickly took off his pants and boxers, his dick springing out. your eyes widened, how in the world was that going to fit?

“matt, how exactly are you going to fit!?” you spoke frantically, sitting up slightly. he chuckled lightly as he applied lube to his length and spread some against your folds.

���it’ll fit lovey, don’t worry okay?” he gently pushed you back down, taking your hand in his as he softly kissed your temple.

“if you don’t like it make sure you tell me, yeah?” matt spoke, squeezing your hand in reassurance and comfort.

“first, i want you to take a nice deep breath f’me okay sweetheart?” matt instructed, exaggerating his breaths so you could copy. you took a deep breath like he asked, matt nodded in satisfaction.

“ready?” he asked you when you finally relaxed, looking down at your face as you smiled and nodded.

you both locked eyes as he slowly slid in, eliciting a mix between a gasp and moan as he did so. it hurt a lot, but you were slowly adjusting to the new feeling.

“you okay?” matt checked in on you, watching your face contort. “want me to pull out?”

“no no…just feels weird.” you express. matt nodded, gently pushing a hair out of your face as he did so. “i know, it’ll feel like that for a bit.” matt chuckled.

“can i move?” he asked, you nodded. you gasped as matt pushed further into you, it felt like you were in a whole different world, the pain quickly went away and turned into pleasure.

“matt..feels good.” you moan out, matt smiles, slowly beginning to thrust into you at a moderate pace, not going too fast. he squeezed your hand, making sure you were okay in between.

“shit baby—takin’ me so well, such a good girl..” matt praised, continuing his slow and steady thrusts as you felt a knot in your stomach form.

your whimpers and moans beamed throughout the dimly lit room, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head almost.

matt leaned into you, grabbing your face gently with his hand. “is it okay if i kiss you?” matt asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay.” you smiled, your first kiss had to be with matt, he was the only person you’d want it to be with.

matt nodded, his thrusts as gentle as ever as he cupped your cheeks. both of your eyes fluttered closed and matt leaned into you, his soft and moisturized lips connecting with yours.

he groaned into the kiss, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. you let matt guide you, but you eventually got the hang of it. you felt matt’s stubble against your cheeks as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip.

without warning, you could feel the knot in your burst, so did matt. you came with one last moan of matt’s name, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

matt pulled out of you, wiping the sweat on your forehead away. he kissed your temple and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“did so good for me pretty, took me so well…s’proud of you.” matt whispered with love and care in his voice.

“thank you matt.” you whispered back, your hand tangling into his hair. matt shook his head.

“don’t thank me, love.” he replied, picking his head up and looking at you, he attacked your face and neck with kisses, making you squeal in excitement.

“i’m no longer a virgin.” you smiled stupidly at him, matt laughed at how cute you looked right now.

“come on, let’s clean you up.” matt spoke, still laughing a little as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! ✨

[creamflix]

christmas event looks so kewl! can i have sukuna + mistletoe (naughty) please? 😽😽

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

SUKUNA has never understood your fascination with christmas. 

the baubles, the garlands, the lights strung across the tree — it all seems excessive and nonsensical to him. when he catches you draping the tree with shiny ornaments, your tongue peeking out in concentration, he’s half-tempted to ask if this is some kind of sacrificial ritual. 

but he keeps quiet. mostly because watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly feels... oddly satisfying.

the mistletoe, though? that’s where things get complicated.

he first notices it dangling from the ceiling in the entryway. you don’t bother explaining it, brushing past with a knowing smile, leaving him to squint suspiciously at the strange green plant. 

“warding off spirits?” he mutters to himself. “what kind of pathetic charm is this?”

of course, his assumptions are shattered after an admittedly frustrating deep dive into google, of all things. the man searches everything from “green thing christmas ceiling” to “magic christmas plant meaning” before finally landing on an answer. 

and when he learns the truth? his mood sours instantly.

a kiss. it’s some absurd tradition that demands he kiss you underneath this thing. 

you’re his; he doesn’t need some ridiculous plant giving him permission. but then again... maybe it’s not so bad if it’s an excuse to remind everyone else of that fact.

the next time you catch someone entering a room under mistletoe, sukuna is already there, arms crossed, posture tense. his crimson gaze flickers between the plant and the unsuspecting victim like a predator sizing up its prey.

“don’t even think about it,” he growls lowly, stepping deliberately into their path. his presence alone is enough to make them reconsider, slinking away without so much as a glance in your direction.

“suku!” you scold, but your amusement betrays you.

“don’t ‘suku’ me,” he snaps, scooping you into his arms and positioning you directly under the mistletoe. “you think i’m going to let anyone else get near you? this is my right.”

his lips claim yours in a possessive kiss, fierce and unrelenting, as if marking you all over again. and when you pull back, breathless, his lips merely shift to your jaw, trailing downward in a heated path.

“sukuna,” you murmur, half-laughing, half-scolding. “that’s enough! it’s just a silly tradition.”

“no,” he grumbles, hands sliding to your waist and tugging you closer. “it’s a tradition that involves my human. and if some stupid plant demands it, i’m not going to stop at one kiss.”

his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and you can feel his sharp teeth scrape teasingly against your skin. one of his hands creeps beneath your shirt, splayed warm and possessive across your back.

“kuna, stop! your hands —”

“my hands are exactly where they belong.” his voice is a low rumble, a mix of defiance and desire. but he finally relents, letting out a dramatic sigh as he pulls away, though his hands linger at your waist.

“fine. you win. for now.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love it.” his smirk is smug, but there’s something softer in the way his thumb brushes against your hip, his gaze lingering on your face.

truthfully, he still doesn’t understand half your human traditions, but if they involve you — your laughter, your blush, your kisses — he supposes they aren’t so bad.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[moomiewoomie]

First time — Nicholas Alexander Chavez

MINORS DNI!! SMUT!! unprotected p in v, both virgins, implied late teenagers 18-19 years old, female receiving fingering, light hearted, nipple stimulated, missionary, giggly sex, size difference, size kink, tentative.

a/n: this is a bit rushed and not proof read, I hope you guys like it. FEEL FREE TO LEAVE SUGGESTIONS!!

you sat across from each other on his navy sheet glad bed, you where both sat cross legged holding hands. It was all extremely intimate, despite the nerves and the awkwardness. You both sat in silence, neither of you wanted to make the first move. you were both far to nervous. you realised quickly that if you didn’t make the first move sex would never come. after a moment of hesitation you lean in and press a slow tentative kiss against his lips. the kiss lasts for a few seconds before you pull away to speak. “are you nervous?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and he nods his head. “yeah… this means a lot to me” he whispered gently, a shy smile spread across his flushed face. you nod you head, understanding him. you felt the same way. “me too, I’m kinda shaking” you giggled, a touch ‘embarrassed. you bring up your hands to show him how they shook. he let out a little chuckle and leans in to press a soft kiss against the very tip of your nose. “your shaking like a leaf” he pokes fun at you playfully

you snort and gently hit his shoulder, he gives you a half hearted scold. the tension seemed to float away when you two began to speak. you guys fell silent and you decided to get the ball rolling once again. “wanna help me get my clothes off?” you ask gently, a shy smile spread across your pink lips. Nicholas eyes widened and he nodded his head eagerly.

with shaky hands he begins to slowly unbutton your blouse, button by button your little white lace bra is slowly revealed. he gulped as he pushed the soft fabric off of her shoulders. “your turn” you giggled, once he was done you begin to pull off his own shirt revealing his lean chest. he reaches his hands down and begins to unbutton your jeans and then he pushes them down, you lift up your hips to help him pull down her pants. Next you unbuckle his belt and he helps you shimmy off his jeans.

you sit infront of each other in your underwear, his erection is incredibly visible through his black boxers. you look him up and down and let out a little giggle. “You look good” you whispered gently. A shy grin spread across his face and he looks away from a moment unable to hold your gaze, he was clearly extremely flattered and from the erection in his jeans, he was clearly turned on. ”thanks… you look…” his voice turned off. He couldn’t seem to put it into words how beautiful you looked in your little lace panties and bra.

he reaches a hand out tentatively and gently traces your bra strap with his index finger, he looks up at you for permission as his hands snake around to your bra clasp. You know your head and with a little struggle he manages to unhook your bra, he wasn’t proud to admit that he had practice before especially for tonight. Your bro dropped the ground and Nicholas’s jaw dropped. His atoms Apple and he stared almost in awe at your breast, he’s seen tits in magazine and porn but never in real life. 

with a little hesitation, he reaches a hands up. His hand hover over your breast for a moment and he looks up at you for consent once more. “Go ahead…” whispered gently and he goes ahead. He gently cups your breast, fuck. He begins to gently need your breasts always playing with them like a toddler would play with a toy, he had this huge satisfied grin on his face. You lean in and whisper gently “can you try sucking them?” he looks up from your breast and not his head eagerly. He dipped his head down and begins to slowly suck on your pebbled pink nipple.

You bite down on your tongue and close your eyes as you savour the feeling of his hot mouth working against your pink nub. nicks cock throbs painfully against his boxers, he slips a hand down and begins stroking himself slowly to relieve some built-up pressure. You notice and your hand down, your hand joins his. You begin help him jerk himself off.

His hips began to buck up into yours and his hand. “oh god… y/n” he groans as you begin to stroke him faster. it isn’t long before his face was scrunched up in this incredibly hot mix of concentration and pleasure. his hands dug into the sides of the pillow either your head. “Shit, I-I’m… gonna… oh god” he gasps as he spills his load all over your stomach. after a few more bucks and thrusts he stops fucking your hand, he pants as he catches his breath. “you came before we could have sex” you pout, he reaches a hand down to cup your face.

“give me a minute, I’m already getting hard again” he chuckled sheepishly. the erotic sight of your stomach painted in his cum was enough to making his semi hard on a raging boner. “Your happy” he tease him. he reaches his hands down to grab onto your inner thighs, he pushes your thighs wide apart and settles between your spilt thighs. one hand lets go of your squishy thighs and pulls aside the crotch of your lace panties. Nick suppresses a groan when he sees your glisten pink folds.

I bits down on his bottom lip and begins to press the tip of his penis against your entrance. he looks up to you once again to seek consent. “mhm… that’s okay” you reassure him. he nods his head and scrunches his face up in concentration. “this might hurt.” he warns you, he had admittedly did some research for tonight. he slowly pushes the tip of his penis into your wet snatch, you let out a gasp of pain when he stretches you out. your nails came out to dig into nicks back muscles.

“do you need me to stop?” worry was written all over nicks face when he asked you if he needed to stop. you wince but you shake your head, you can power through. “No… no” you whisper weakly. he lets out a small hum and continues to slowly push his member deeper and deeper into you until he was half way in. “can you rub my clit?” you asked gently, you always felt comfortable suggesting things like that around him. “shit. Yeah of course” he nods his head dipping a hand down to begin rubbing your pink sensitive nub.

that feels good, so good. the pain of him stretching you out gets more and more bearable until it starts to feel good. The tip of his penis begins to press against your special spot, you let out a surprised gasp at the sudden pleasure you were feeling. he stops and looks down at you, his finger pausing on your clit. “are you okay?” He asked. Worried that you gasp was a gasp of pain. “no silly, that feels really good” you praise him. “Oh” he chuckles sheepishly before continuing.

Nichola begins to speed up, he’s using all his strength to stop himself from cumming right then and there. his face crunches up in concentration. “I-I’m trying really hard not to cum” he grunts. you let out a little giggle and whispers back to him. “Me too”, you both laugh. he leans down and presses a slow kiss against your lips so he can muffle his own groans and moans. it’s not long before his finger on your clit gets to you and you begin moaning against the kiss too.

his thrusts grows almost erratic, like he’s trying his hardest not to thrust himself deep into you. His face scrunches up in pleasure and his mouth drops open. “Fuck I’m close” he groans, you nod your head in agreement and begins to buck your hips up to get more friction against his finger. “Yeah, same” you breath out weakly. your nails dig into his back muscles as his finger speeds up on your clit and his penis rubs against your special spot. your back arches off his bed and his hand digs into your hip.

“Shit!” he gasps, you both reach the edge together. his body tenses and his balls tighten as he suddenly pulls out his cock to spill all over your stomach. his fingers continue on your clit so your came cum too. your eyes widened and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. you both stare back at each other with widened eyes, your moans turns into pants as you try to catch your breath.

“god…” he whispered using gods name in vain.

[revelboo]

How in the fuck are you pumping out these fics THIS QUICKLY

Guessing you’re new here? I type these short forms pretty quickly if I’m not busy

Stand Too Close Pt 9

IDW Prowl x Reader

• He’d hoped after, he’d be over it. If anything, he made it worse. Because now he can’t stop thinking about how horrified the other Autobots will be if they find out. What Optimus will think of him. He’s supposed to be looking after you, keeping you safe.

• “Stop staring at me like that,” you mutter, wrapping your blanket firmly around yourself. Even with your back to him, you can feel his optics on you. Feel that answering heat spark through you that whispers that something is very wrong with you. How else can you can hate him and still want him. “And that is never happening again.” The words for you as much as him.

• “You weren’t complaining when I was inside you,” he mutters and you glare at him over your shoulder, face reddening. But you don’t argue with him. You can’t when he’d heard those sounds you’d made, felt you holding onto him. Door wings flicking, he swallows a laugh. Wonders if you’ll be taken away and given to another caretaker when Optimus realizes what he’s done. It’s what he’d wanted originally, but now it just makes him angry. As messed up as it is, he enjoys arguing with you. Pissing you off just for fun to watch those angry eyes flash.

• “A moment of weakness.” That’s all, even if for such a stuck up jerk he fucks like an animal. Even if for a short time, you felt like you’d seen the real Prowl. And that the composed, in control bot is all an act. Inhaling slowly, you tip your head back to stare at the ceiling. Anything but seeing those optics back to being pure ice. You’re still naked under the blanket, shifting to rub your thighs together and feeling his excess there. “I like you better angry.”

• He almost does laugh at that, because you don’t realize that he’s always angry. Always on a razor’s edge to maintain control. And he’s so tired of it, but he’s the one that everyone looks to. The infallible tactician who never makes mistakes or loses his temper. It’s what’s expected of him and that weight is slowly breaking him. “Not all of us have the luxury of being able to throw a tantrum.”

• “I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Smashing things just for the sheer pleasure of watching them break is good for the soul sometimes.” Because sometimes the only way to get over your issues is to destroy something. It’s something you’ve gotten good at over the years. Not only burning bridges, but delighting in it. He’s staring at you when you look at him and there’s understanding in the wry twist of his lips. If you’re fire, he’s gasoline. No matter what, this isn’t going to end well. You’ve never been good at doing the responsible thing, though.

• You’re not joking, even though you’re smiling reluctantly. If he really let loose, though? You’d run if you knew half the poison in his processor. Every injustice, every senseless death, if he was let off his leash to act without conscious, he’s not sure what he’d do in retaliation. Or if he’d want to stop. Because if he were free to eliminate threats covertly? Without running them past Optimus for permission that will never come, he’s not sure if there’s any line he wouldn’t cross to end this war. Anything he would destroy. That’s why he needs to stay in control, because he’s scares himself and that fury is always right there demanding action.

Previous

[penpatronuswhump]

I’m angry at Eddie.

Right now I want the version of him who raised his voice when Chris stayed up late to play video games (and - for once - it’s not just because he was totally hot when he was so stern).

Moving to El Paso is - forgive me - a cowardly choice. He’s actually running away from his responsibilities, not relocating closer to his son.

He’s acting like Shannon, actually.

He’s letting his parents win. They’re spoiling Chris.

And Eddie is - forgive me - being a poor role-model for his son.

Has he even once asked, “When do you want to come home” or said “I want you to come home” to Chris? Let alone something like, “I will be picking you up and bringing you home on Saturday and, no, that is not up for debate”?

It’s been enough time. He’s given Chris enough space. Now is the moment when he should inform his child that he will be returning home where they will go to therapy together and work out their issues as a family.

And when his parents put up a fight, he should say, “I am picking up my son. I do not need your permission to bring him home. Chris is returning to LA.” And when they fight harder, he has his rights.

I want to shake Eddie and remind him that he’s not powerless. He is the authority in this situation. He is Christopher’s father. Chris is a child and it is Eddie who decides where he lives.

Coddling Chris, being overprotective, letting him call the shots and not talking about what happened is only making things worse. It will be painful to talk to Christopher about Kim and Shannon and his grief but that’s better for them both. Eddie wants to avoid that pain. I get that. But in doing that he’s teaching his son that we just ignore the elephant in the room instead of confronting it. Frank would not approve! Ha.

Eddie should inform his parents and son that he’s on his way to El Paso to bring Chris home. He should put Buck in his truck and drive.

And Chris will be mad. But, later - maybe years later - he’ll understand that was the right choice.

[dubina-dawkins]

FORD MUSTANG '66 BACK SEAT

~2k words (i got carried away :p)

pairing: teen! dean winchester x teen!virgin! reader

> your uncle got you a perfect 18th birthday gift - white ford mustang '66, and dean is in awe. not only because of the car, but because of the birthday girl too

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! f! masturbation mentioned, loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (done by professionals don't try at home), softdom! dean, afab! reader, really fluffy and gentle, lots of kisses i mean how do they still breath, may be kind of continuation (but not a direct one but after some time yk) of my previous work with teen! dean and teen! reader, reader is hunter btw but this is mentioned less, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

"Are you kidding...he gave you that baby girl? Damn it, your uncle has taste!" Dean laughs, approaching the vintage car from the bumper, palms wide on the cold metal. He stares out the windshield, then walks around the car in a circle before turning back to you, one arm around your shoulders.

Your birthday was literally, like, a week ago? But since your uncle was busy, he didn't get you a present until yesterday. And today Dean was here on your call. Secretly from dad, of course. Sam's at school somewhere, so there's no need to keep an eye on the kid, so, uh...

"Uh-huh. A useful gift for hunters, huh? Especially since uncle let me hunt alone or with you now... Cool stuff. And even though I'm a bit of a machine builder 'cause I'm always helping him, I think I'm gonna need some help, you know..." You start, turning so that your fingers slip into his messy hair, and Dean laughs.

"If you want me to drive this hottie until you get your driver's license-"

"Bingo!"

Dean laughs, his hands finding a place on your ribs as he pulls you into a tender kiss. The touch of his lips on yours was always too gentle, and it was infuriating sometimes. Knowing Dean, he could have done so much more. Just cared, I guess?

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Knowing Dean freakin' Winchester, it was easy to see that he loved you very much. Well, loved you as much as he could. Sometimes it was a fight, but not a big one - hell, you're only 18, what the hell is there to fight about?

Especially since you now had official permission for alone time - soon you'd be hunting together, which meant lots of adventure, blood, sweat, and lives saved. Sometimes that last point was purely functional, and yet. Just you and him.

You couldn't call yourself an innocent Christian girl. You hated the church, God and angels with all your soul after all you had seen and gone through. They're in, they're out, it doesn't make much difference. So sinning didn't seem like a bad idea. Especially when you're just getting back from a walk with Dean in the night, when he's running away from home in his father's car - let's just say he wasn't promised his own car until he was 21 - and the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, ribs, waist and hips still hangs in space...

Then your fingers traveled south, stroking first the lower abdomen, then the labia, then the wet passage, and finally up to the clit.... you could've sworn your panties hadn't been dry after any encounter with your boyfriend. Dean's wink or a glance at your neck, your waist, and you'd be drowning. God, why's he so pretty all the time?

"Okay, now..." Dean pulls back and walks around the car to open the door and land in the driver's seat. His eyes glisten, and you can tell he's enjoying this immensely. Somewhere along the lines of his favorite movies and listening to Led Zeppelin.

His strong palms grip the steering wheel, and he leans back to keep it at arm's length. And Dean laughs again, stroking the leather of the steering wheel with his thumbs. "Pretty one, that's for sure..."

You land in the backseat, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. Without even hearing his question, you smile and fold your hands in your lap.

"I can't get used to the fact that it's all, like, mine. And I'm kind of scared to sit in the front. I guess it'll pass with time." You don't have time to finish the sentence when he gets out of the car, and a few moments later he's standing in front of the open backseat door.

"Then I should join you," he laughs, jumping to you, putting his hand on your lower back. You shriek and laugh, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is long, sensual, and at some point Dean's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wide, and he pushes you back against the seats, towering over you. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him wide-eyed, doubt flickering across his face instead of a smirk.

"Uh...I hope you've-...you've already had someone, right...?" he gently takes you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you only blush.

"Well...no?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and frowns, stroking your thighs with his thumbs, the same tenderness he used to stroke the steering wheel of your Mustang. Yeah, well, considering you were a hunter too, you didn't have much of a chance for a relationship...

"Ah, so...I get to be first? Woah..." he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him even more, but it scared him too. However, he smiles and bends towards you, not allowing you to give an answer, his lips pressed against yours again. He places one hand on your chin, gently, two fingers opening your mouth for his tongue as his other hand creeps down to your stomach, stroking it.

"God, you're so- aah, fuck..." Dean sinks down between your legs, unzipping the fly of your jeans and pulling them down your legs. When his teeth snag the elastic of your panties, you whimper, putting your hand on his head, and he laughs. "Shh, not yet."

He looks at your glistening, wet folds, and God, it means everything. Dean licks his fingers - though it wasn't necessary at all, you were fucking soaked - and gently presses his thumb against your clit. When that elicits a soft moan of his name from you, he chuckles.

"Are you okay, baby?" He whispers, kissing your stomach, and gently pulls up your t-shirt. He kisses your collarbones while his free hand works on the clasp of your bra.

But God, you're too good to respond with anything but a whimper. You take off your shirt, and he pulls off your bra, and for a moment he just stops, staring at you. A low growl escapes Dean's lips. "You're so beautiful for me, baby..."

He brings his hand back to your pussy, gently stroking the space next to your passage, and your already tight walls tighten around nothing. He whimpers at the mere sight, pressing his lips to your nipples. Every sensation is new, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. You put your arms around his neck, one hand creeping up to his disheveled hair, the other reaching down to his back.

Dean throws off his leather jacket and flannel, leaving only a T-shirt, and the cold material of his amulet burns your skin as he leans in again to leave kisses on your skin. "It might hurt now. Tell me if you need me to stop..." But you both know that neither you nor he wants to stop it.

Dean rises to capture your lips again in a kiss, and his middle finger slides into your channel, and you let out a loud sob at the sensation. His fingers are different, feel completely unfamiliar. And it's too exciting, especially when he gently pushes his finger deeper, and your core squelches so lewdly that you blush.

"De...feels so good," you whimper, hugging his shoulders, your hands in fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm trying, love," he laughs against your lips, his finger stroking your walls in a circular motion, and you grind against his hand - at which point Dean presses his hand to your stomach and begins to move his own finger inside, discreetly adding his ring finger as well.

You arch your back, and he kisses your cheek. "So good, you're so good, baby. So good at taking me like a good girl," your walls clench around his fingers at his praise, and Dean groans at the sensation - the bump on his jeans getting noticeably harder as he muffles both his and your moans with a kiss.

You feel bratty, pulling your hands to his belt, and Dean growls against your lips. "Can you handle this? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart," he pulls his own jeans down, tossing them off his legs somewhere on the back of the driver's seat, followed by his T-shirt. Your fingers stroll phantomly over his waist and hip bones as he slides his fingers out of you with a squelch of your walls, and you whimper unhappily.

"Please, Dean-"

"Shh, shh, shh..." He strokes your cheek, bending down to kiss your swollen lips again, and his free hand guides your palms to the waistband of his boxers, and you obediently pull that down, letting him away from the kiss. Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, and Dean chuckles shyly.

"Whoa..." you lick your lips, and purely out of interest, you touch your fingers to the tip. His shaft throbbed, and Dean let out a high-pitched whimper as his precum began to glisten under your finger.

"Baby, let's not make any more comments," he picks up your hand, intertwining your fingers, and gently positions himself between your thighs. Dean can't resist the opportunity to rub me against your swollen clit, and you synchronously make almost identical sounds - something between a high-pitched moan and a sob.

"...Are you sure?"

"Dean, shut up and get to work."

He laughs, leaning down to your face again. "That's my girl."

And he pushes into you in one, slow thrust, inch by inch, swallowing your moans of pain and pleasure in another kiss. God, a little more, and your lips would have turned blue.

He pulls away from your lips, arching his back, and catches your hands in his, intertwining your fingers again. Dean hisses, squeezing your hands. "So fucking tight...just for me, huh...?"

He doesn't just fill you up - his hardness overwhelms you, and you feel complete for the first time in your life. Your fingers grip his hands as if your whole life depends on it. "F-fuck, it's so huge-"

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to tell me that," he leans to you again, kissing your cheek as his hips move and he begins his slow pace. His thrusts may be measured but they're precise, each time his tip taps harder on that most sensitive point inside you, and it seems there are more stars in front of your eyes than there are in the night sky.

"You're doing well, baby...So tight, so wet, so pliable, just, just for me..." He whispers into your ear as his thrusts become less controlled, more needy. Your walls quiver and his length throb more and more inside-you're both close, and that knowledge drives you insane.

"D- yaaah, Dean, I'm close-" He doesn't answer anything, just presses his lips against you again and roughly penetrates your mouth with his tongue, his palms gripping your waist hard enough to bruise it, but one hand does drop down between your bodies to caress your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And this is it, you cry out his name, your walls tighten around his cock, and he hisses, with a loud pop of your bodies releasing his length from your heat.

But you don't let him out that easily.

"My turn," you grin weakly, your hand taking his erection in your fist, giving it a few quick strokes, and he fucks your fist like he's in heat, nuzzling his face against your neck, making a moan so pathetic it's even cute.

"I love you so much...Baby, baby, sweetheart, fuck-" He whispers frantically, and with one final thrust, shots of his seed crash into your palm, your side, and the leather of the seats. Dean wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, pulling you close, his face finding its place in your hair as he exhales hoarsely. "So fucking much..." he says, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by your locks.

There were tissues in the glove compartment, right?

a/n: still love my baby. still a tooth rotting fluff. your honor I'm sorry!! was working on reqs but i just thought of this idea and couldn't get it out of my head so that's it.......

[insidekatmind]

Between rival hearts~ Noni Madueke and Trent Arnold (love triangle)

The sound of footsteps echoed through the England locker room as the players prepared for the upcoming match. However, that night it wasn’t the preparations for the match that dominated their thoughts, but something much more personal. Two of the team’s brightest stars, Noni Madueke and Trent Alexander-Arnold, were completely taken with you. What had started as a friendly relationship between teammates was quickly evolving into something much more complicated.

For two days, you had kissed both of them, but you hadn't made a definitive choice. Your heart didn't know what it wanted anymore, and what had begun as an innocent game was now turning into a war between two men who both had the same goal: to win your heart.

That evening, in the locker room, the tension was palpable. While the other players were preparing, trying to ignore the growing conflict, Noni and Trent found themselves face to face, their jaws clenched, their eyes full of anger and frustration.

"This isn’t right, Trent. You know it," Noni said, his voice thick with anger. "You think you have the right to...?" His sentence trailed off as he stared Trent in the eye, a mix of defiance and resentment.

"I don’t need your permission, Noni," Trent replied coldly, but with a spark of disdain in his eyes. "If you’re scared to compete, maybe you should back off. It’s clear she prefers me."

Noni hissed and took a step toward him, but was stopped by another shout: "Enough!" It was Jude Bellingham, who, although not directly involved in the love triangle, couldn’t stand the drama unfolding before him. "It’s not a competition. You both should stop acting like children. She’s not a trophy."

Trent didn’t flinch, shooting a quick glance at Jude. "Don’t worry about it, Jude. This doesn’t concern you." Then he turned back to Noni. "She’s made her choice. Maybe she’s just too shy to admit it, but I know she prefers me."

Noni let out a sharp laugh, but it wasn’t funny at all. "You’re trying to convince yourself, Trent. I don’t believe you for a second." He glanced at the other players, who were watching the scene in silence, almost entertained. "And where is she? How can she tell us who she prefers if she’s not even here?"

Suddenly, silence fell, as everyone in the room considered that question. Where were you? No one really knew what you were thinking, but Noni and Trent both seemed certain that you were the center of their worlds.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Noni continued, looking at his teammates. "This isn’t just about kisses or attention. It’s about who can make her feel special, who can give her something the other can’t."

Trent took a step forward, as if he wanted to confront Noni directly. "And who decides that, you? Or maybe her? Because I know I’m the one who makes her feel alive. And you, Noni, just seem like the guy who wants to play the nice guy, while I’m the one who makes her feel desired."

The other players started looking nervously at each other. The tension was so thick, and Jude, trying to maintain calm, stepped forward, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "Guys, stop. This isn’t going to get you anywhere. Why don’t you try talking to her directly?"

But in the heart of the argument, there was still the question no one dared to ask: *Who will you choose?*

It was a delicate situation, a clash of hearts and desires. The passion between Noni and Trent was now evident to everyone, and no one could ignore the longing they both felt for you. But it wasn’t just a battle of pride between them; there was also your heart to protect, slowly breaking under the pressure of having to make a decision.

And all you knew was that, as dangerous as the game was, you still hadn’t decided which side to stand on.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours: it's so easy to bite with your hands pinned (2/16)

Summary:

After fantasizing about it, Rosalind can't stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ancunín. Maybe Shadowheart is right, maybe she should just do it to get it out of her system.

Pairing: Astarion/named f!Tav Rating: explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter tags/warnings: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v intercourse, blood/blood drinking, creampie/no breeding (full list on ao3)

Yayyyyyy chapter 2! I've been absolutely going through it personally, but your comments and kind words have brought me such joy. My goal will continue to be to upload Sunday/Monday so if I miss a day, I give you full permission to yell at me. (But please be nice, I'm very sensitive.)

Read it on AO3. ~ Masterlist (coming soon.) ~ Office Hours playlist on Spotify.

“Shadowheart, I think I fucked up.”

Rosalind picks at the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup as Shadowheart grabs her latte from the counter. Her best friend’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she fixes Rosalind with a cautious look. They had met six years ago while moving into adjacent apartments. Shadowheart was already working at BGU in the Divinity School, and a few years back she helped Rosalind get an interview with Volo in the theatre department.

“Do I need to kill someone or help you bury the body?” she says with a sly smile, and Rosalind groans, almost too ashamed to admit it. She has complained far too much about Ancunín for what happened last night not to be exceedingly embarrassing.

“No, not that,” she begins, then takes a sip of coffee to brace herself. “You know that snotty Renaissance Lit professor I’ve mentioned?” They tap their phones on the turnstile censor and file through one at a time.

“Yeah, the one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart looks over her shoulder as she asks the question, and she’s treated to Rosalind’s dramatic eye roll.

“I’m not always going on about him,” she grumbles, and Shadowheart’s laugh reverberates off the metro walls.

“You absolutely are, but continue,” she smirks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Okay well let me at least show you what he looks like before I lose service,” Rosalind preemptively defends herself, pulling out her phone and searching for the BGU English department faculty page. She scrolls down to Ancunín’s portrait and turns the screen towards Shadowheart.

It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. Suddenly she gasps and looks at her friend with wide eyes. “Rosalind, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t!” Rosalind shouts, perfectly scandalized. Then, in a much lower voice that ultimately gets drowned out by the roar of a train flying by, she says, “I just thought about it.”

“What?” Shadowheart shouts, pulling her scarf in a little closer to protect herself from the wind cast off by the train.

“I just thought about it!” Rosalind shouts back, wishing she had just waited to speak.

“Thought about what?”

“Fucking him!” Of course, she shouts this last bit just as the train has fully passed, which means everyone else waiting on the platform hears her clear as day. Rosalind hides her flushed face behind her cup, praying that no one from the school is also taking the metro today.

“And?” Shadowheart looks at Rosalind expectantly.

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Rosalind scoffs and looks down the tunnel at the train’s headlights in the distance in order to avoid answering her question for a second longer. “I mean, it was my imagination, so like good I guess?”

“Well sure, but would you want to do it in real life?” As Shadowheart answers, the train comes to a screeching stop and the two of them board, snagging a two-seater as far away from both entrances as possible. Shadowheart pinches her knees together and places her bag delicately on her lap.

Rosalind sighs heavily before answering. “Man, I dunno. I’ve never really been into the idea of hate sex, at least not since Aradin.”

Shadowheart makes a face of abject disgust. “He doesn’t even know how lucky he is that I’ve never been in the same room as him.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more appreciative of having someone so eager to commit murder for me,” Rosalind laughs, putting her hand on Shadowheart’s knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Rosalind looks out the window at the other platforms whizzing by. 

“I think you should go for it,” Shadowheart says suddenly, and Rosalind chokes on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” she coughs as she wipes her mouth.

“What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you can just go back to hating him like before, and at least then you won’t need to wonder anymore,” Shadowheart says matter-of-factly. She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described the literal nightmare scenario.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” Rosalind gapes at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” Shadowheart flashes a coffee-stained grin and Rosalind pushes her face away.

“Maybe not, he could be terrible for all we know,” she replies smugly as the train slides into the University stop. They funnel out with the hoard of students and other professors who also get out onto the platform. “Man, Shade, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” Rosalind teases her as they trash their empty coffee cups.

“Listen, you’re closer to getting some than I’ve been in months, it’s not that good out here for most of us,” she groans.

“Hey, if I end up getting lucky, maybe he’s got some pretty colleague he can hook you up with,” Rosalind says with a shit-eating grin and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

Rosalind and Shadowheart split ways in front of the student union, each of them heading to their respective sides of campus. Rosalind goes directly to her office and immediately closes the door — usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary today. She can’t look at his face right now. She can’t possibly look him in the eye.

She spends the majority of the day locked in her office, double checking the hallway before leaving to teach Voice and Speech. She even avoids the main office for fear of running into him there. 

When 5:00 rolls around, she takes a peek outside her door to see most of the other professors leaving. To play it safe, she decides to work until six so she can be absolutely sure he’s gone by the time she leaves. She passes the time by absentmindedly grading weekly reflections. It’s only when she realizes that she’s read one paragraph about Miss Julie about a half dozen times, she figures it’s time to leave.

She pokes her head into the hallway, but can’t tell from this angle whether or not his door is closed. She grabs her bag and coat, takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the stairs. It’s only when she approaches his office door that she realizes it’s open. 

Fuck.

It’s fine. She can just walk past it and get to the stairs and then she won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice her walk by. It’s fine. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears nonetheless.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as Rosalind passes his door. Are you fucking kidding me? She turns to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even bother looking up at her. Prick.

“Yes?” she asks coldly, not budging from her spot in the hall. He glances up and looks at her over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. Rosalind wants to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

Rosalind takes a tentative step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s somehow warm and inviting. She can barely see the walls from being covered corner to corner in overfull bookshelves. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room — significantly nicer than the university-issued ones. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it, honestly. Two chairs face his desk, but they’re covered in a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave like the ones in Rosalind’s office. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea. 

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. Rosalind stands still, clutching her bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes she’s not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. She can feel the heat in her cheeks rising. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels her to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk. He leans casually on the edge of it, facing her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Rosalind watches him carefully, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Rosalind blinks at him, the conversation immediately not going in the direction she expected. She still feels so much shame about last night that it takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

He sees the gears turning in her brain and decides to continue. “It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leans back on his hands, stretching out his lithe figure to impossible proportions. Rosalind’s grip on her bag slackens and she can’t help but drag her gaze over the length of his body. He looks back at her quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses. Now it’s his turn to give the once-over, and Rosalind feels practically naked before him with the way he leers at her. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward her, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. She retreats while holding his gaze until her back is flush against the door. 

No escape now.

He gets precariously close and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s at least a half foot taller than Rosalind, and he looks down on her with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in her face has fully reached the tips of her ears now, and her breath comes out ragged. 

“I’m sure I—” she begins, but it comes out thick and raspy. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” she finally manages with all of the composure she can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t drastically increased in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into her. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter escapes Rosalind as she presses her thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let her respond. 

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my piece and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. He’s giving me an out, she realizes. He’s saying that we can both laugh at this as an embarrassing moment and never bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand… Rosalind thinks back on her conversation with Shadowheart and swallows thickly.

“You’re not mistaken,” she manages to choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts her chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command makes Rosalind’s knees go weak and she withers under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” she says more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time she notices two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains why he could track Rosalind’s heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating. 

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing her roughly, hands twisting in her hair and one knee sliding up between her legs. He pushes her against the door, lifting her up onto her toes. She’s desperate just to keep up as he devours her, her hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment she lets him take her.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away as they both breathe heavily, air cycling between their lungs. Rosalind’s head is full of a thick fog and she can’t see straight. His hands are still in her hair, tight but not pulling — yet. Why do I get the sense that might not last long?

He drops to his knees and she nearly doubles over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of her black denim skirt, inhaling again. Her fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from her fantasy. At this point she’s just trying not to collapse. 

He looks up at her, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up her skirt and his thumb runs across her pussy, barricaded by sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” She bites her lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of her tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, she can’t stop the cry from escaping her throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in her ears. Her knees buckle and he grabs hold of her hips, hiking up her skirt to get better access to her dripping cunt. He presses a finger past her panties and slips it into her, and she gasps at the stark temperature difference. 

“Gods, fuck,” she groans under her breath, and she runs a hand through her hair as her head drops back against the door. He presses his nose into the flesh of her lower belly, licking and kissing it as he slides in a second finger into her. She can feel her legs beginning to shake as he pumps into her, stretching her out. She grasps the handle of the door trying to brace herself on something. When her hips begin to subconsciously roll against his hand, he yanks his fingers out and she whines at the sudden emptiness. 

“Someone’s needy,” he sings as he stands before sucking her arousal off his fingers. He pulls her into another searing kiss and the taste of her lingers on his lips. He grabs her ass and digs his fingers into her flesh, spreading her cheeks until she gasps into the kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up her legs and wraps them around his waist. She yelps in surprise; he’s significantly stronger than he looks.

He carries her over to that incredible mahogany desk, plopping her down on the hardwood and sending books and papers tumbling to the floor. He presses his bulge into her mound, this time the sound of both of their groans mingling pleasingly. He tears at her chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down her chest as she throws her head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing her top, though she’s certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. She can hardly bring herself to care as she paws wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of her. He pulls down the lace cup of her bra with his teeth and starts sucking on her nipple, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She arches into him, his hands working her like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that she pictured last night. Instead, Rosalind has been reduced to shambles, begging for his satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” she stutters, and those devilish eyes lock onto hers again. He snakes his way back up her chest and bites her lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks her stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against her. She squirms, trying to pull him closer but he’s got her arms locked in his grip. His lips leave hers and ghost over the flesh of her neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across her jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from her in return. By all the gods, Rosalind hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement makes it clear that he won’t bite unless she wants him to.

But holy hells does she want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” she gasps, and she’s almost certain she can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get inside me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to her, but she’s well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves her panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into her simultaneously, drawing out her cry of both pain and pleasure. She wraps her legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. She feels his mouth filling up with hot blood just as her cunt fills up with his dick. 

His pumps are slow, taking his time as he swallows gulps of her blood. The obscene slurping noise mixed with his heavy breathing and occasional grunts that tickle her ear send her reeling. She’s always had a sensitive neck and more than enjoys the occasional hickey. But this is a whole new level of pain mixed with pleasure. His lips grow warm with her blood and she bucks against him, her whines getting swallowed by his curls. Her hands cup his ears, and she’s unable to stop herself from playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from her neck, looking absolutely feral with her blood dripping down his chin, which only sets her off more. 

“Please, I-I need more,” she whimpers breathlessly, angling her hips towards him and trying to get him to thrust faster.

“You eager little thing,” he growls, and the animalistic sound pulls another desperate whine from deep within her. He pushes her back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath her knee high boots, pressing her thighs against her chest. He begins to pound into her properly, sending her hurtling towards climax. She grabs onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching her out as he keeps her feet up by his shoulders. The heat begins to mount in her core and she knows it won’t be long before she comes. But at this point she’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m—” She finishes before her sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks her body, if anything, he fucks into her harder. Just as she’s barely come down from her climax, he pulls out and yanks her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from her back. He pushes her skirt up to her hips and grabs a hold of her ass, his nails digging into the part of the tights still in-tact. He slides into her again with a groan, and already she can tell that she’s working her way up to a second one. Her bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs her hair, pulling her head up and arching her back into him. 

She desperately wishes that she could see his face because she can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. She tries to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on her hair remains tight. But even if she can’t see him, she can still hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in her is enough, and her own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism. 

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and she can feel his climax, setting off a second for her. The throbbing of his cock matches that in her cunt, and she holds onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over her. Once the ripples have settled he pulls out, and she can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down her leg. She silently says a thankful prayer for her IUD.

They’re both panting as he collapses onto her back, planting a half-hearted kiss on her spine. She weakly pushes herself up off the desk and sees the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. She turns around to relish in his appearance. Her blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. She reaches up and wipes the remainder of her blood off his chin. He smirks and gives her a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

“That was good,” she murmurs through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[anifever]

i cant hold it in anymore!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!!1!1 i <3 johnny cade so much, could you do some hcs for him please?

Johnny Cade Dating HCs ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : What I think dating Johnny would include 😋

A/N : He’s so gorgeous it makes me sick, also sorry this is kinda short

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦴 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ Ppl need to stop mischaracterizing him as an innocent femboy puppy twink I’m gonna cry

୨ Anyways

୨ Watching stray cats together and labeling each one as the gang members

୨ ^ Dallas is a black and hissy one 😇

୨ There’s literally no doubt that he stays at your house almost all the time

୨ Definitely has a room of his own or just sleeps on the couch

୨ Stargazing every few nights in the lot

୨ He learns a lot of the constellations from some book Pony had lying around to try and impress you

୨ He’s an insanely good listener

୨ If you need to pour your heart out and rant or simply gossip about something, he’s your guy

୨ He never interrupts- not just because he’s quiet, he’s just taking it all in and being respectful

୨ He always stands up for you whether it’s to some rando, Soc, or one of the guys bothering you (even though he def gets nervous the same way he did when he stood up to Dallas for Cherry)

୨ But like he doesn’t care because it’s you

୨ He whistles random tunes to try and help you sleep and also just in general when he’s bored

୨ He cannot take compliments for the life of him (using the word life lightly)

୨ He either just brushes it off or gets awkward

୨ Say anything about his looks in public and he gets sheepish and starts kicking a rock LMFAOO

୨ He ties you makeshift rings out of flowers

୨ He always asks you for permission before doing stuff like kissing, etc

୨ Helps you tie/untie your shoes even if you’re perfectly capable

୨ He does random stuff for you without any hesitation

୨ Oh you dropped a pencil? He’s got it. You take him shopping with you? He’s carrying the bags. You want something that you’re definitely closer to? He’s getting it for you anyways.

୨ There’s a lottttt of comforting and reassurance being done considering all he’s been through

୨ You and Two-Bit would gladly join eachother in yelling at or fighting his parents

୨ You always patch him up after he gets jumped or has altercations at home

୨ He usually just lets his wounds heal by themselves, but nope, you make him let you help

୨ Anyways, you’re one of the only people he can fully relax around without feeling constantly on edge

୨ Like you see that boy with his shoulders slumped and stress free- very rare occurrence

୨ Sometimes you beg him to not put grease in his hair so you can freely play with it

୨ He’s a little shy most of the time but the longer you’re together he gets more sly

୨ He’s taking after Dallas…

୨ Like he musters up the courage to do the stupid arm around shoulder thing while you guys are watching a movie and thinks it was so clever

୨ He’s constantly admiring you

୨ You could be in pajamas and he’d be staring, but he’ll be extra star struck if you dress up even slightly

୨ Cue Dallas making jokes about him catching flies

[arpicityandneed]

Give it Up Pt. 1

18+ Dark Content. f!reader. step brother!Bucky. college student reader.

~

Dear Diary, Is it bad that I had that dream again? Fuck its been going on for years but it still makes me wake up wet and aching to be ruined. Its always the same. He sneaks into my room to find me touching myself (I'm always touching myself before bed every night lets be real) and just locks the door before coming over to move my hand away. "No touching my pussy without permission, sis. Do I make myself fucking clear?" "Yes." Every time he teases me, circling my clit light enough that I can't cum. "Yes, what?" No matter how guilty it makes me it also makes me want to cum so hard. "I won't touch your pussy big brother."

"Bucky!! Mom said she found more gift wrap, you can leave it." Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin, tearing his gaze away from the raunchy words in your neat handwriting. You'd filled page after page and the diary was nearly full. You liked free use, roleplay where he blackmailed you into being his slut, humiliation play, anal.. the more he flipped through the pages the harder he got.

"Bucky!! Did you hear me?" You called again, sounding so sweet and innocent like you usually do. Except now he knew the truth.

Innocent my ass.

"Yeah sis, I heard ya!" He called back tucking the book back into its hiding place behind the towels in the hallway closet.

When he came back into the living room you were on your knees, arranging the presents under the tree and looking every inch like the casual college student. But now that he knew what was really going on in that head of yours? He couldn't stop looking for outward signs of your perversion.

"Something on my face?" You asked when you noticed your brother staring at you with a weird intensity.

All Bucky could think about was painting your face with his cum in response. He had to shake himself before he could smile somewhat normally.

"Nothing. So about the tree.."

~

He never caught you writing in the diary, but new pages kept showing up every few days when he checked the closet. So he started to plan. Because there was no way he was going to be able to rest, your words had invaded his dreams.

Every spare moment was spent jacking his cock until he blew his load all over his fist, thinking of you and your filthy fucking fantasies. You'd written that you were technically still a virgin since you didn't think all your toys counted. The thought of you fucking your own ass with a fake cock usually is what got Bucky off more often than not. It agonized him wondering which hole to fuck first. Because he knew your pussy would be heaven too. Had to be attached to such a wicked girl.

If he was going to be tormented by this then you were too.

It started small, little touches that you wouldn't bat an eye over. Hands on your hips to help you reach the top of the tree, tucking a curl behind your ear, a kiss to the top of the head.

But then he ramped it up, a hand a little too high on your thigh until you were squirming and making excuses to move. A slap to your ass with a joking grin and a distracting question to leave you flustered and flushed. Lingering a second too long after kissing your cheek before pulling away and acting like nothing happened.

It was slight, but he could see it now. The faraway look in your eye and the way your thighs clenched together every time. You were lost in your own head thinking something depraved and god he needed his hands on you for real.

~

Christmas Eve was the last straw. You had a party to go to, something with some asshole called Walker who Bucky didn't know but didn't like on principle. But when he saw how you were dressed? A deep green excuse of a dress wrapped around your body like it was molded to your curves, and stopped mid thigh. Your tits were nearly spilling out before you quickly covered up with a jacket when your mom came closer.

"I'll drive you." Bucky said close enough in earshot of your parents that your mom agreed instantly, just like he'd wanted.

"But mom, its a date, why would you do that to me?" You whined. But your mother just smiled brightly at you.

"Keep complaining I'll have him pick you up too." You groaned and glared at Bucky playfully, mumbling as you walked outside. "Lets go then."

~

Bucky's car smelt like him, and the leather seats seemed to hug you back. It was always too intimate for you and you hated that he was clearly enjoying himself.

"You didn't have to say it so damned loud. You know how she gets." You complained as he blasted the heat before starting to drive, just snorting at you.

"Who knows if this guy is even worthy of you sis? It's my job to protect that pretty little pussy of yours." He spoke casually, but the way his eyes cut to yours was boldly intentional before he turned his attention back to the road was hard to misunderstand. This was him making a move.

"Bucky! What- you can't just-" You spluttered completely caught off guard.

"Can't just what? Talk about your pussy? You talk about my dick enough in that black book you keep in the closet." And just like that you were throbbing between your legs from being caught, the embarrassment making your clit throb along to your heartbeat. All the previous teasing touches flooded your brain, and you groaned as you hung your head in embarrassment. Had you really not noticed the way he'd been hunting you?

"We're gonna make a quick stop before your party sis. Gotta give your gift." His words were a purr, and you would later deny you ever whimpered from his voice alone.

"You better not give it up to any guy but me unless I say its alright, you got that? Can't just have you spreading your legs for anyone I don't approve of. You're my little sister and its my job to protect you" He continued to give you the big brother lecture, twisted as it was. And as much as you hated it, since you knew the bastard was doing it on purpose just to highlight how taboo it was for you to want him, your mind was running wild and you were drenching your panties.

You should've been ashamed of yourself, but all you wanted was for him to pull over and fuck you over the hood of his car.

~

Steve's studio apartment was practically Bucky's as well and you knew this, but still the fact that your brother had a key turning the lock without even having to stop kissing you made you realize how often he was over here.

"So this is how you dress when you're not doing the innocent college sweetheart routine." He groaned as he palmed your ass cheek through your dress, his erection pressing into your hip with no remorse. "Might have to fight Walker if he sees you in it though."

"Don't care about him," you gasped as he kissed down your throat and sucked a hickey into your skin. Every touch of his made your desire burn brighter, driving you insane like his fingers had on the drive over tracing the slit of your pussy over and over without touching your clit.

"No, you're saving yourself f'me right?" He unzipped your dress slowly, like he was unwrapping a present. Your matching black bra and panties looked sinful on you.

"Bucky," you mumbled shyly as you tried to cover yourself.

"Don't hide from me. If we're gonna do this sis, you play by my rules." His voice was rough and husky but completely serious as he watched you. And your clit throbbed from his words, your hands falling to your sides as you let him look.

"Good girl." The praise made you wanna preen under his attention. "Now take it off. All of it."

You unhooked your bra easily, watching how Bucky's eyes were locked on your tits as soon as they were free. He twirled his finger when you reached for the band of your panties so you turned and let him see exactly how much he affected you as you bent over.

The weight of his gaze threatened to break you before he even laid on a hand on you. You heard his foot steps circling you as you straightened up, trembling with anticipation. Wondering where he would touch you first.

His arm snaked around your waist before pulling you closer, his mouth sucking hot kisses up your neck.

"B-Bucky," You moaned brokenly in his arms, clinging to him like you'd always wanted to.

"You have no idea what your little book did to my brain baby. Can't stop thinking about all the ways I can ruin you, especially now that I know how much you'll like it." Bucky started walking you to the bed, never letting you out of his arms as he bite and licked and marked your throat.

Then you were airborn with a squeak bouncing on Steve's bed as a tiny box bounced with you. It was wrapped with a bow and had your name on it. "Is this?"

"Open it." Bucky started to tug off his clothes, and you were torn between finally getting to see his cock and the present in your hands. But curiousity got the best of you and you opened it, the mistletoe with a tiny bell attached jingling as you lifted it out of the box.

"You hold onto that. Drop it or shake it if you need me to stop, or something happens that you don't like." Understanding dawned on you, even as it made you clench your thighs together. "Unless you drop it, I'm not stopping. Even if you beg for a break, or make me work for it. I'll fuck what's mine."

"Bucky.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, taking in everything he'd said as finally, he unbuckled the belt of his jeans.

You closed your fist around the mistletoe tightly.

"Knew you'd like that, perv."

a/n: This is getting way too long so I'm going to save the smut for pt 2. please comment and reblog!

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

Last Hope

Pairing: AnakinXFem!Reader

Warnings~ NSFW, Dark Theme, Psychological manipulation, Power dynamics, BDSM themes, Angst, Canon divergence

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is running out of options. The Jedi Council has sent him to you. He doesn’t want your help, but you are the only one left who can keep him from falling too far. In a game of control and defiance, you’re his last hope.

Notes: Little somethin’ somethin’🤭 I’d like to write a whole BOOK about them but I’ll let y’all tell me if it’s worth it. As always, banner at the end by @cafekitsune !

~

Enjoy 🖤

~

The room was sterile. The Council sat in a circle in the center, their robes shifting like ghosts in a cavernous, cold room. The hum of the air seemed to steal all warmth, all life, from the space. Shadows clung to the corners like secrets, but their faces—detached, disassociated—were illuminated under harsh lighting. No one spoke at first, as if the weight of the decision had already crushed the life out of them. And it had.

"Anakin Skywalker," Master Windu began, his voice a low rasp, "has proven himself to be... unreliable."

A pause. The room tightened like a fist around the words.

"Unorthodox," Obi-Wan added, barely a whisper, but it carried the sting of a reprimand. "Dangerously so."

The soft buzz of the air returned, heavy with the lack of fear and disappointment.

"Slipping he is," Master Yoda's voice cracked through the silence, old as time, yet still absolute with the sting of truth. "Too close to the edge. The dark side... waits for him."

So this is why I’m here, you thought. You were part of the machinery, an unseen piece of the puzzle, but always necessary when the Jedi couldn’t keep their prodigal sons in line. The Council had her in their back pocket, only pulling her out when their precious Jedi grew too unruly.

"A test," Windu said. His eyes were sharp as they locked with yours. "The same as before. Anakin Skywalker will need... guidance. From you. Like you once did for Obi-Wan. It’s already been decided, there is nothing more to say at this point."

Your eyes flicked over the Council. All of them—distant, cold. One by one, their eyes turned away. The truth wasn’t theirs anymore.

"Then consider it done," you replied, your voice soft yet stark. "He’ll come. They always do. We both know what happens when a Jedi doesn't follow the rules."

The room fell silent again.

Your role was set. His punishment had been decided.

~~~~~~

Anakin wasn’t used to being told what to do, in battle or in life. And certainly not by someone like her.

Her eyes didn't twinkle with the promise of submission. No. They were cold, calculating, like an executioner who knew his work was necessary but hated it all the same. She stood there, calm as death itself, under the dim lights of her ‘sanctum’- as she called it.

He walked in without permission, not bothering to wait for an invitation. His boots hit the ground hard, the thud echoing in the room. "So," he sneered, crossing his arms. His presence seemed to fill the room, every crack and cranny filling with his superiority. "This is what the Council thinks will solve my problems? Not a Jedi. Not a Master. Just… you.” He spat the words out like it was bitter. Like it tasted wrong in his mouth.

You had seen men like him before—heroes in their own minds, lost causes in the making. It didn’t phase you anymore—not that it did much to begin with, but even less nowadays.

“You think too much of yourself,” you reply, voice flat. “You think too much in general, and that makes you, Skywalker, a problem.”

His nostrils flared, a fire sparking bright in his eyes. “I don’t need you to fix me. I don’t need fixing. You think you can control me?" he said, his voice low and challenging, as his shoulders tense.

You smiled, but it wasn’t kind and your gaze never wavered. You tilt your head, the faintest smile curling at the edges of your lips. "Control is an illusion," you say softly. "But understanding... that’s something else entirely. Tell me, Skywalker. How much are you willing to sacrifice to maintain your power?”

His lips parted, and for a second, you saw it—the anger, the desperation. And just underneath it, that flicker of fear he was too afraid to confront.

Got him.

“You’ll come to me willingly, in the end,” you say, voice a whisper of a promise. You stepped forward, slow and deliberately, meeting his broad stance. “Not for the Council, and not because you’re broken. But because you need someone who’s stronger than you. Someone who knows your limits better than you do.”

He laughed, that hollow, bitter sound, as he shifted his weight. “I’ve fought wars, faced enemies most would run from. I’ve been trained by the best. No one knows my limits better than I do.”

“No one,” she agreed, “is willing to push you the way I will. So… shall we begin?”

~~~~~~

The door to her ‘sanctum’ slid open with a whisper of metal, and Anakin stomped inside, his boots hitting the floor with deliberate thuds. The air was thick with tension, heavier now—like a storm that had been brewing. He was here again, whether he wanted to be or not.

This time, he came with a plan. He wouldn’t be anyone’s puppet. Not hers. Not the Council’s.

You stood in the middle of the room, your posture as poised and perfect as ever. Your sharp eyes locked on his the moment he entered. She’s wearing that outfit again, the same one as before, all black and smooth, some kind of material that water would just flow off. He thinks, before shaking his head to focus on the words he had practiced before coming in.

“I’m fine,” he establishes, his voice steady, but even to him, it sounded hollow. He stopped midway across the room, trying to stake his ground. "I don’t need you."

Your lips curved, just slightly, a smile full of disbelief. “Really?” Your voice laced with knowing, but your expression remaining calm. “Then tell me, Anakin, why does every fiber of your being scream for something more? Why do you feel so... unsettled?”

He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Every time he tried to hold your eyes, his focus and his thoughts scattered, and he found himself lost in that damnable calm of yours.

“You’re losing yourself,” you continue, as if you had seen it all before. You stepped forward, closing the gap he had tried to place. “And that scares you. You’re losing the thing you thought you had a handle on, that piece of you that made everything make sense. But you can’t stop it. Am I getting warmer?”

The words hit him like a physical punch. His breath came faster, chest rising with every inhale as he crosses his arms over himself. You watch him closely, your gaze never leaving his face. There was no cruelty in your eyes, no mocking. Just an understanding so deep it unsettled him even more.

“Thought so,” You counter to his silence, your voice almost a whisper now, but it carried the weight of a ton. You stepped even closer to him, narrowing the space between you. Your presence is suffocating, even if you were inches smaller than him, and your closeness makes his chest tighten.

“Kneel, Skywalker.”

[mivalyn]

° • . Knot me up, please . • °

18+, mdni!

Alpha Hawks x omega male!reader

Cw: knotting, anal fingering, anal sex

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,277

The Number Two Hero, Hawks, soared above the city as the last rays of the sun painted the skyline in hues of gold and crimson. It had been an unbearably long and taxing day, one filled with high-stakes missions and political meetings that drained every ounce of his energy. Yet, the thought of coming home to you, his Omega, his mate, was the one thing that kept him going. He longed for the simple comfort of shedding his boots, slipping into the familiarity of his home, and wrapping his wings around you, cocooning you in his love and warmth. The vision of holding you close, listening to your soft breaths as you nestled into him, was what had carried him through the grueling hours.

As he finally touched down on the balcony of your shared apartment, the weight on his shoulders lightened slightly. He opened the sliding glass door, and instantly, your scent flooded his senses. But something was different. The usual soothing sweetness of your pheromones was sharper now, richer, almost intoxicating. It struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Heat.

The realization made his heartbeat quicken, an urgency overtaking the fatigue in his body. He let his bag drop carelessly by the door, his boots abandoned mid-step as he moved toward the bedroom. His wings flared behind him instinctively, his body acting on pure instinct. When he pushed open the door, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks, his golden eyes softening with a mixture of affection and desire.

There you were, curled up in the center of the bed in one of his oversized shirts, clutching it tightly to your chest. Your face was flushed, your eyes glassy and filled with a need so palpable it pulled at every primal instinct within him. The sheets around you were tangled, evidence of restless hours spent trying to manage the unbearable ache coursing through your body. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and yearning, melted away every ounce of stress from his body and replaced it with an overwhelming need to comfort and protect you.

“Hey, baby,” Hawks said, his voice soft as he approached the bed. He lowered himself to sit beside you, his hand brushing tenderly through your hair. The small, needy whimper you let out at his touch sent a shiver down his spine. He hated that he hadn’t been there sooner.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and guilt. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since this morning…” you admitted, your voice trembling and thick with emotion. Tears glistened in your eyes as you clutched his shirt tighter, pressing it to your nose to inhale his scent. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are…”

Hawks’ heart ached at your words. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his wings spreading wide before folding around you in a protective embrace. “You could never bother me, baby,” he whispered, pulling you gently into his lap. His strong arms encircled you, his warmth enveloping you completely. “You’re my priority. Always. I would’ve dropped everything the second I knew.”

You sniffled against his chest, your body trembling as the heat surged through you. The ache was unbearable, but his presence, his touch, offered a semblance of relief. Hawks’ hands moved to stroke your back, his fingers firm yet gentle, grounding you with every touch.

“It’s okay now,” he soothed, his voice low and calming. “I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, your trust in him absolute. Hawks leaned back slightly, his hands moving to the hem of the shirt you wore. “Let’s get this off first, yeah?” he said softly. His golden eyes searched yours for permission, and when you gave a small nod, he carefully lifted the shirt over your head, revealing your flushed, trembling body. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but Hawks was quick to fold his wings around you again, shielding you from the chill.

His hands explored your body with reverence, his touch both soothing and electrifying. When his fingers brushed against your cock, already hard and aching, you let out a shaky breath. He wrapped his hand around you, stroking slowly, his movements precise and unhurried.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his other hand slid over your backside, his fingers finding your slick entrance. He pressed a finger inside, moving gently, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that made you whimper and cling to him.

“More - please, Keigo,” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation. Hawks’ heart clenched at the sound, his need to provide for you overriding everything else.

“Anything for you, baby,” he promised, adding a second finger. He worked you open carefully, his movements deliberate as he searched for that spot inside you that would make your body sing. When his fingers found your prostate, a choked cry escaped your lips, and your body arched against him.

It wasn’t long before the pleasure overwhelmed you. Your release spilled over his fingers, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Hawks withdrew his fingers gently, bringing them to his lips to clean them with a playful smirk. But his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but love and adoration as he looked at you.

He stood briefly, shedding his clothes with practiced ease. Each piece revealed more of his lean, muscular body, and your eyes drank in the sight of him. When he returned to the bed, he pulled you back into his lap, his hands steadying your hips.

“Now,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, his hands firm on your waist as he guided you down onto his cock. The stretch was slow and deliberate, his golden eyes watching your every reaction as he filled you completely. The fullness made you cry out, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he stilled to let you adjust.

When you gave a small nod, he began to move, lifting and lowering you on his cock with a steady rhythm. Each thrust hit deep, the pleasure overwhelming as you clung to him, your moans filling the room.

“K-Keigo - more, please,” you begged, your voice laced with desperation. “I want your knot - I need it.”

Hawks groaned at your words, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck as his movements quickened. “You’ll have it,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “You’ll have all of me.”

The sensation of his cock thickening inside you was almost too much, the stretch pushing you to the brink. Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your body tensing as pleasure tore through you. Hawks followed moments later, his knot locking him inside you as he spilled his release deep within you.

He held you close, his wings wrapped protectively around you as you both came down from the high. After a few moments, he carefully cleaned you up, his touch tender and reverent.

Once you were both settled back in bed, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lulled you into a peaceful sleep, safe and cherished in his embrace.

[baekhyunsbestie]

expanding on baekhyun beating it to his so's pics to say imagine him facetiming her in the middle of it cuz he needs to really see herrrr and ur like hi bby wait why is ur face so concentrated and also why is ur arm moving up and down underneath the camera and OH o_o

omgggg i can picture this sooooo vividly it hurts 😭😭😭😭 i literally had to write about it!!!!

18+/MDNI!! | wc: 1.6k+

you and baekhyun have each other’s locations shared, as couples and loved ones often do these days. he’s currently out of the country for a packed schedule and won’t be back for a few more days. you’ve both adjusted to the chaos of his life, as hard as it can be. but the bond you share? unshakable, no matter the distance or time apart.

tonight, though, he’s lying alone in his hotel bed, missing you more than usual. he knows you had plans with your friends, a rare night out you’ve been needing for a while. he checks the time: 11:30 p.m. back home. too early for you to be back, and he knows it.

still, he can’t help himself. he checks your location.

still at the bar.

he exhales, sinking deeper into his pillow. he doesn’t want to bother you. you deserve this—an escape from the stress that’s been weighing you down. he’d rather you enjoy yourself than feel guilty for being out late.

so instead, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram, likely to doom-scroll through endless posts, letting the minutes slip away as he waits for you to get home safely and for the comfort of your nightly goodnight call.

but then, your story flickers onto the screen, pulling him in, a sudden spark in the otherwise dull scroll.

the first post is a mirror selfie: hair falling just right, effortlessly perfect, makeup soft yet glowing, and that simple black dress—one of his many favorites—clinging to your curves in all the right ways. when he notices the timestamp, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you sent this to him first. it’s a small gesture, but it makes his heart swell.

the next slide is a quick clip of you and your girls, all glammed up, drinks in hand, raising your glasses with laughter as the music blares in the background. your happiness is so tangible, so infectious, and it warms him to see you this carefree.

then, there’s a repost from your friend. it’s a grainy but adorable video of you and her dancing, swaying in sync with the beat. the way you playfully twerk on her, both of you giggling uncontrollably, is far from suggestive—just two besties reveling in the moment.

but baekhyun is a man. and men? they think with their dicks.

his mind wanders, lingering on the way that dress clung to you, the way your body moved. and now, no matter how much he tries to focus on how happy you look, he’s suddenly cursing the miles between you, wishing for the kind of proximity that doesn’t involve a screen.

he checks the time again: 11:37 p.m.

the urge to reach out to you—text, call, anything—burns hotter with every passing second. he’s jittery, restless, the kind of edgy that leaves his leg bouncing uncontrollably. would you even answer if he called? the thought gnaws at him. god, he misses you. he misses the nights you’d stumble out of bars, dialing him with drunken, slurred words. how you'd insist you weren’t done drinking because the only thing left on your menu was him.

shit. the memories alone have him stiffening in his bed, blood rushing south faster than he can stop it. the sound of your drunk giggles, your uninhibited honesty spilling out between hiccupped words. the way your hands would roam without permission, needy and brazen. he exhales a shaky breath. the ache in his boxers is unbearable now.

he can’t take it anymore.

his fingers unlock his phone, navigating to the photos app to access the hidden folder only you know about. his secret stash. a digital gallery of you: alone, with him, under him, and on top of him. his free hand drifts to his leaking cock as his thumb swipes through the memories.

you knew about this folder, of course. you had your own—filled with matching treasures. you both had this shared indulgence, a mutual obsession. pictures and videos from every angle: your hands clutching the sheets while he buried his face between your thighs. you straddling him, his camera catching the perfect view of your curves. shaky, raw footage of backshots, his hands leaving fiery-red imprints on your skin as you moaned his name into the mattress.

you needed these to survive the nights apart, a remedy for the distance that stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

truthfully, even if you saw each other every day, you’d still keep these folders. you both had a thing for cameras, for the thrill of capturing your rawest moments together.

his fist wraps around his length, the other clutching his phone as he presses play. it’s a video of you riding him, your hips grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. the camera shakes slightly—it’s shot from his perspective, the faint tremble of his arm betraying how badly he was already losing it then.

his lips part, breath hitching, and his heart pounds loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. but it’s not enough. it never is. he needs more.

he needs you.

he taps the screen, fingers shaking as he hits 'facetime.'

you answer on the second ring.

it’s 12:55 a.m.

your face comes into view, filling the screen with a teasing smile as you nudge open the door to your shared penthouse. the faint hum of city lights spills in behind you, but all your attention is on him. one glance is enough—his brows are knitted together, lips slightly parted, the cool glow of his phone illuminating his face and glistening off his glossy lips. you know exactly why he’s calling.

“hi, baby,” you slur, voice syrupy with just enough bite, “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too, my angel,” he exhales, his voice barely more than a whisper, chest rising and falling in measured, aching pulls. from where you stand, you see everything—the way his shirt clings to his body, damp in all the right places, the faint quiver of his lips holding back words he’s too desperate to say. the sound of his breath, uneven and needy, fills the air between you. his gaze burns, molten and consuming, pouring his hunger into every inch of your skin.

you giggle, a sound light and teasing, as you saunter toward your shared room. "i can tell, lover."

his smile is shy, almost boyish, but not enough to stop the slow, steady stroke of his hand over his aching length. "home already?"

you nod, a quiet hum slipping past your lips as you step into the closet, the soft shuffle of your feet muted against the carpet. your fingers trail over the familiar fabrics until they find your favorite pajamas. as you pull them from their place, you cross the room to the dresser, propping your phone against its edge. the glow of the screen bathes the space in muted light, capturing him on the other side—his hand moving with practiced rhythm, his flushed face a picture of unguarded bliss, every gasp and twitch drawing you deeper into the moment.

"ya looked so beautiful tonight. fuck—" his words falter, the shaky gasp making your thighs press together. "y’know i love that dress on you. can’t believe i wasn’t—hah—there to fuck you in it."

you grin, a wicked curl tugging at the corners of your lips. “i could keep this dress on a little longer for you if you’d like me to, baekhyunie,” you purr, your voice a delicate weave of honey and innocence, teasing just enough to leave him craving.

his breath hitches, a sharp exhale breaking free as his head falls back, throat exposed in a display of surrender. “hah— fuck, s-say that again,” he rasps, eyes clenched shut like he’s bracing himself against the tidal wave you’ve unleashed. his hand moves faster now, the slick sound of his strokes filling the space between you.

you tilt your head, feigning naivety, your eyes wide and sweet like sugar dusted cherries. “huh? say what, baekhyunie?” your voice lilts with mock innocence, the act so it’s almost cruel.

as you shift, the delicate strap of your dress slips, baring your shoulder and collarbone—a canvas of temptation. soft, lickable, and oh-so-bitable. baekhyun's gaze sears through the screen, his mind unraveling with reckless fantasies, aching to bridge the distance and claim you, over and over again, losing himself in you until the sun rises.

the sight of you, the way his name drips from your lips—it’s his undoing. his rhythm falters, the once-steady motion of his hand becoming erratic, desperate. he’s unraveling, and you can see it in the furrow of his brow, hear it in the staggered cadence of his breath. you lean closer, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper.

“gonna cum f’me, baekhyunie?”

the way your voice softens his name, rolling off those plush lips, breaks him into pieces. the sensation crashes over him, an overwhelming rush that leaves him shaking, the heat of his release spilling in thick, white streaks across his toned stomach, splattering his shirt in wild, chaotic lines. your name escapes him in a breathless murmur as he rides the last tremors of his high.

you smile, satisfied with the mess you’ve made of him, the power you wield with nothing but your voice and a knowing glance.

as he comes down, his chest heaving, baekhyun peels his ruined shirt off, using it to clean himself up. when his face reappears on the screen, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure.

[pastelwitchling]

Continuation to chapter 146.

***

              Alex stretched along the length of his bed, moaning into the pillow. The heat of his blankets provided the most comfortable cocoon, especially with the storm continuing to rage outside. Alex cuddled deeper into the warmth, heaving a deep sigh as the rain pelted the windows and the wind howled. He loved storms. He loved the smell of rain still seeping into his space, stronger than ever.

              When he opened his eyes, he realized why.

              Alex narrowed his eyes, lifting his head inches off his pillow to look around the room before he looked back to Michael leaning against his doorway with his arms crossed. He was still wearing the sweats Alex had given him, and Alex thought he’d never looked more comfortable himself.

              “Why didn’t I hear you?”

              “You’re exhausted,” he said, and shrugged a shoulder. “And I’ve been here a while.”

              He frowned. “Doing what?”

              “Watching you sleep,” he said easily.

              Alex’s head fell back onto the pillow with a sigh. “Some might call that creepy, Guerin.”

              “With your damn military training,” he said, and the bed bounced as Michael plopped down by Alex’s foot, “I never get the chance.” He put a hand on Alex’s blanketed calf. “You’re always up before I am.”

              Alex clenched his jaw and moved his leg out from under Michael’s touch. “What time is it?”

              “Seven,” he said. “I would’ve let you keep sleeping, but you need to eat. C’mon, I made dinner.”

              He turned his face into his pillow. “You made dinner.”

              “Yeah, I’m a pretty good cook.”

              “I know,” Alex grumbled bitterly, “Maria told me all about it.”

              Silence fell heavily over their heads, and suddenly, the heat of Alex’s blankets and the smell of rain turned a little bit suffocating.

              “Come eat,” Michael said quietly. “I made your favorite.”

              He paused at Alex’s head, reached out to touch his hair, and paused with his fingers hovering just over the strands, as though waiting for permission. Alex turned away from his hand and sat up, reaching for his crutches as Michael stared at the empty space where Alex’s head had been before his hand fell limp to his side, and he plastered on the easy smile that fooled neither of them.

              “Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes,” he said. “Do I know you or what?”

              He followed Alex into the kitchen, the smell of spices and butter making Alex’s mouth water. He sat down in the same chair he’d been in since that morning when he’d given up on his work for the day and said he was going to take a nap, with the secret hope that Michael would leave while he was gone and that Alex wouldn’t have to watch him go.

              “This looks amazing,” he admitted, sliding onto a stool. Laid out before him were platters filled with roasted chicken drumsticks, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, freshly-baked bread rolls with huge slabs of salted butter, and sautéed vegetables. In no time at all, Michael filled a plate for him. “How long have you been doing this?”

              “Not long,” he said, sliding into his chair across from him. Alex tried not to think of that being his seat. “Things move a lot faster when you can move things with your mind.”

              “You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble,” he murmured. “I have frozen pizzas.”

              He felt Michael’s eyes on him. “I wanted to cook for you.” He smirked. “It’s not like I get the chance to do this a lot either. Why? Want to kick me out into the cold already?”

              Alex fought the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to bother yourself.”

              Michael’s smile dimmed, and something in his eyes sharpened. “You’re not a bother, Alex. You never have been.”

              This time, it was Alex who’d pretended he hadn’t heard. He instead busied himself with piling a piece of chicken and some mashed potato onto his fork, coated in gravy, and moaned around the mouthful.

              “Marry me,” he said, without thinking.

              “Yes,” Michael said, looking like he’d done nothing but think about it, but his eyes were twinkling and his smile looked so pleased and genuine that Alex could only blush as he piled more food onto his fork. When he went for seconds, Michael looked like his lifelong dream had been fulfilled.

              By the time dinner was over, the storm had raged even harder and Alex had insisted on doing the dishes while Michael went about lighting candles all over the house. “Safer than electricity right now.”

              When he was finished, Alex’s room was cast in candlelight and shadows, and Michael leaned a hip against the sink as Alex finished drying the plates and putting everything away. He tilted his head and smiled. “Now what?”

              Alex hummed, looking around. “I don’t really know.” He checked the time and found it was near eleven. “I usually go to sleep around now, but I just woke up.”

              “Wanna watch a movie?” he offered, and Alex sighed, taking another look out the window. The storm was stronger than ever, there was no way he was letting Michael go back in this. It wasn’t like he was encouraging bad behavior or anything, Michael wasn’t safe heading back in this mess. Alex was being responsible, subtly protecting the man he loved.

              He might as well enjoy the few hours they had together.

              “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

              Michael smirked and took a step closer. “How about a romance?”

              “How about an action film?” Alex deadpanned, and Michael’s smile widened.

              “Nervous about watching romances with me, Private?”

              Alex pursed his lips in an effort not to smile, and this time he was sure he failed. “Get the damn TV on.”

              An hour and a half later found Alex and Michael seated on opposites sides of Alex’s couch, Alex’s head on the throw pillow between them. At some point, Michael’s hand fell onto his head, idly playing with his hair.

              “I thought you weren’t sleepy?”

              Alex mumbled incoherently, his eyes fluttering to the soothing feeling of Michael’s fingers between his strands. Michael chuckled low under his breath, brushing Alex’s hair back from his forehead. He felt a blanket levitate itself up his body and settle under his chin as the Avengers’ theme music played in the background.

              He was drifting off, he knew he was drifting off and something told him that this time, Michael really would be gone when he woke up. Michael’s hand fell to his waist, fixing the blanket where it had started to slip off, and—caught somewhere between reality and dreams, between a place where he woke up alone and had nothing but rain as company, and a place where the smirking, snarky, beautiful, wonderful cowboy he loved with every fiber of his being and soul sat across from him and they ate together and watched movies every night—Alex caught his hand.

              He said something near-silent to his own ears, but which he felt with every part of his being. He had no idea if Michael heard it or not, because before Michael could react, Alex was drifting off, dreaming of the same thing that he’d asked Michael for.

              Dreaming of Michael staying.

              Alex woke in the middle of the night, too comfortable to ever move again. It took him seconds to realize that he wasn’t lying on the couch anymore, but curled up on Michael’s chest, between his legs. Michael’s arms were loosely wrapped around Alex’s shoulders, the rest of Alex covered in the thick duvet from his bed. His face felt warm, every inch of him heated so perfectly that he had trouble believing this wasn’t their usual life.

              Here, together.

              Feeling truly restful for the first time in forever, Alex snuggled deeper into Michael’s body, the tip of his nose pressed to the hollow of his collarbone, and breathed him in his as he fell asleep.

              He woke again to the feeling of Michael’s hands in his hair, brushing the strands from his brow, rubbing up and down his spine. His eyes fluttered, even as his body melted deeper into Michael’s, and it took him a second to remember where he was. He groaned, dropping his head onto Michael’s chest, eyes shut and face heated for reasons that had nothing to do with the blankets.

              “Don’t say anything.”

              “I didn’t,” Michael whispered against Alex’s crown, but Alex could feel his smile.

              He squirmed. “Stop smelling me.”

              Michae chuckled. “Okay.”

              A pause. “Seriously, stop it.”

              He burst into laughter and thoughtlessly ran a hand down Alex’s back and up again, leaving goosebumps in his wake and making Alex shiver. “I’m not the one that squeezed you in the middle of the night, am I?”

              “Please,” he groaned, pushing his face into Michael’s chest to rub it, trying to properly wake himself up. “I don’t for a second believe you didn’t move me.”

              “I may have strategically slid underneath you,” Michael said shamelessly, digging his fingers into Alex’s shoulder blades and massaging him in a way Alex refused to admit felt good. “You clung on all by yourself.”

              “Oh gee, when you put it like that,” Alex mumbled, trying not to moan at the feeling of Michael’s hands on him, “it puts everything in perspective.”

              Michael hummed, and again, Alex could hear his smile. The kind that unfurled slowly and lazily, the kind that looked easy and like it was coming from Michael’s very core, the kind that made Alex’s toes curl and his heart hammer in his throat.

              “Does this feel good?” he asked, his hot breath against the shell of Alex’s ear as he continued to massage lower, his voice like gravel and sending electricity down Alex’s spine. “You like the way my hands feel on you?”

              Alex opened his eyes, inhaling sharply, and the world—which had started to sound muffled compared to Michael’s deep timbre—came back into clear and sudden focus, and he pushed himself up with a clear of his throat. He avoided Michael’s gaze, yet he could see Michael’s smile dim out of the corner of his eye. And still, he wouldn’t let Alex go. The tips of his fingers hung onto Alex’s shoulders, his arms stretched out, and instead of falling away, he followed Alex up so that he was still touching him.

              Alex swallowed, casually leaning further back until Michael’s hands slid off, and pushed himself off the couch. “What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

              For a moment, Michael didn’t answer. Then, “Almost eight.”

              Alex stumbled as he whipped around, wide-eyed. He caught himself on the coffee table, but Michael was already on his feet, catching him with a hand on his waist. Alex ignored the warmth of his touch and how close he was in favor of checking his phone screen for the time. Michael was right; it was almost eight.

              “The hell . . .?”  He rubbed the back of his head. “Did I take a hit or something?”

              “Weirded me out, too,” Michael murmured, his voice unusually quiet, and when Alex looked up, he realized why. They were mere inches apart, and any semblance of humor on Michael’s face was gone as he searched Alex’s face as though trying to reacquaint himself with constellations he’d always known.

              “Waking up before you did for once,” he said, his eyes darkening the longer he traced the small moles on Alex’s neck, his stubble, the tips of his hair now too long and falling over Alex’s eyes. He used the hand not on Alex’s waist to brush the strands back. “Made me realize I’ve never seen you sleep. You looked . . .” he exhaled shakily, eyes shutting tight with the force of his feelings as he pressed their foreheads together hard enough to bruise. “Like even while you were dreaming, you trusted me to keep you safe. Like you couldn’t have wanted anything when you woke up but having me there.”

              “Guerin—”

              “I know,” Michael breathed, arm tightening around Alex’s waist and pressing their bodies together. “I know, Alex, I know I know I know.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “I know it hurts, I know I scare you, I know it’s hard, I just . . . let me hold you a little longer. For now, I’ll settle for that much, Alex. Please.”

              Alex didn’t move for a long time, resisting the urge to shudder as Michael cuddled deeper into the crook of his neck, like he was trying to absorb him. Then, slowly, he raised his arms and carefully caught his wrist with his other hand at Michael’s back, gently hugging his waist. Michael inhaled deeply, and buried himself deeper into Alex, and Alex dared to tightened his hold a little, hugging Michael back. They stayed there in the middle of Alex’s living room for what felt like hours or days or years, just holding each other, Michael keeping a firm and steady arm on Alex’s waist, taking on most of his weight so that Alex wouldn’t get tired standing on one leg.

              Michael seemed to have no intention of letting Alex go, his breaths deepening as though he would’ve been perfectly content to just fall asleep, standing right there. His hands on Alex were like furnaces, and Alex tried not to let his eyes flutter at the warmth, but it happened. His focus lapsed for just a second, but it was a second too long. He got too comfortable, his head too drowsy, his body too lax that his knee buckled for the briefest moment. Michael held him tighter to steady him, and started to move away.

              Alex swallowed the objection in his throat, but it only lasted the length it took Michael to bend down and hook an arm under Alex’s knees.

              “Whoa—Guerin!”

              “I got you, hang on,” Michael chuckled under his breath as he carried Alex into—Alex blushed at the realization—his bedroom. He set him down gently on the bed, the mattress dipping under his knee as he hovered over Alex, massaging his thigh and making Alex gasp.

              “S-Stop, I’m—I’m fine,” Alex tried. What was wrong with him? Why was he stammering?

              Michael’s lips quirked into the barest smirk, amused, as he continued to rub into Alex’s thigh with such attention, and it did not help with his blushing. “I know,” he said, “but you kept moving your leg even while you slept. I wanted to rub you down all night, but I didn’t want to wake you. You just reminded me.”

              Rub me down? Alex’s heart thrashed at the thought . . . until his mind caught the other part of Michael’s sentence.

              “All night? What do you mean, weren’t you asleep?”

              Michael’s fingers slowed for just a moment, his smirk dimming to something soft and guilty and embarrassed and shy. Quietly, he confessed, “I couldn’t sleep at all. I kept worrying that . . . if I slept, I’d find out all of this had been a dream. Couldn’t stand it.”

              He said the last part with half a shrug, as though he wasn’t affected, but Alex could feel the slight tremble of Michael’s fingers on his thigh, the way he dug in a little harder, held on with every press of his hands as though making sure Alex couldn’t push him away.

              Alex stared, but Michael seemed unwilling to look at him this time, focusing intently on massaging Alex’s thigh. Alex knew that kind of focused determination, knew what it looked like when Michael was panicking on the inside that he’d said or done something wrong, knew what it looked like when he was afraid of meeting Alex’s eyes because he’d just hit him with a remark he knew was cutting.

              In the past, Michael had always been trying to push Alex away, unwilling to look at him afterwards because he’d been unwilling to see the betrayal and hurt Alex never managed to hide. Not from him. This time, it seemed Michael had frightened himself by accident.

              Alex caught his wrist, halting him from any more rubbing. He saw Michael swallow, hard. Bracing himself.

              “Sit down next to me,” Alex found himself saying, unable to regret the words. Not as Michael’s eyes widened ever so slightly, the hope unmistakable in his sharp, soft inhale.

              Alex half-expected him to say, “Really?” or ask if Alex was sure, but thankfully, he seemed just as aware of the fragile trust as Alex was, and without a moment’s pause, slid onto the bed without taking his eyes off Alex, sitting against the pillows, their thighs pressed together.

              They sat there like that for a long time; the rain still pouring outside; thunder rumbling softly and echoing around the bedroom; nothing but the soft sound of Michael’s hand on Alex’s thigh, thoughtlessly (or maybe very intentionally) now feeling the muscle as though unable to pull away.

              “I like this,” Michael said quietly into the small space between their mouths.

              Alex’s eyes fell to Michael’s lips briefly before he finally settled his head on Michael’s shoulder, settling in for a long, quiet morning.

              “Me, too.”

              They both drifted off, which meant that eventually, they both woke up to find themselves facing each other. At some point, Alex had been laid down. As it was Michael’s arms tight around him, his own hands on Michael’s chest, he had a feeling he knew what had happened.

              “You really like me sleeping on you,” he said into Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s eyes, half-lidded, darkened, and his smile stretched, lazy and alluring.

              “I really do,” he said shamelessly, his voice deep and amused.

              “You’re not even going to try to deny it?”

              “I like touching you,” Michael said, his hand slowly going up and down Alex’s back, lowering further down with every stroke. “Is that shocking?”

              Alex licked his lips. “No,” he said, “it’s not.”

              Michael’s eyes had followed Alex’s tongue, and they stuck there now. The amusement on his face vanished, turning hungrier. “I like touching you more than anyone. I’ve never wanted to touch anyone the way I’ve wanted to touch you.”

              “Michael,” Alex warned, or tried to, but it came out sounding more like a whine. He couldn’t help it. Michael was too damn close. He’d been too damn close for longer than either of them have ever been, and it was messing with Alex’s head. Still, he only wanted to get closer.

              Michael’s hand slid lower, his pupils expanding to swallow the green that Alex loved as he leaned in closer, closer. The tips of his fingers inched beneath Alex’s waistband, feeling the dip just above Alex’s ass cheek. Michael’s eyes shut like he’d found the treasure he’d spent his whole life searching for, breathing out a curse against Alex’s mouth. Alex swallowed thickly, the heat climbing his neck and rapidly turning his face red. Michael’s grin returned, eager and happier than Alex had seen him in too long.

              “I love how easily you blush,” he breathed. “Hottest thing ever. I’ve jacked off so many nights to just the thought of how sensitive your body is.”

              “Michael—”

              Michael’s breathing was turning rapid and shallow, pressing their foreheads together, one foot reaching out to Alex’s left, rubbing their toes together. Meanwhile his hand was reaching lower, down to the back of Alex’s thigh and up again, clutching his ass cheek and pulling at it.

              “Imagined how easy it is to get you hard,” he laughed, breathless, lost in the memories of their heated nights together. “A few touches . . . a few dirty words,” his eyes opened only halfway, completely swallowed by his pupils as he watched Alex with heat and sheer adoration. “That’s all it over took.” His eyes drifted down to the bulge between Alex’s legs. “That’s all it ever takes.”

              “Because it’s you,” Alex whispered before he could help himself, and couldn’t regret it. “Because it’s your hands and your mouth and your dirty words, Michael. It’s you, jackass, of course I’m easy.”

              Michael looked momentarily stunned, his expression one of wonder and hope and fear—fear that what he was seeing, what he was hearing, was all a dream. It was that look that made Alex reach out, had him hooking his fingers into the front of Michael’s borrowed sweats, moaning at the feeling of the sweaty, wiry hair there.

              That sound seemed to reverberate through Michael’s body, and he shuddered, moving closer. “Baby,” he groaned, slinging his leg over Alex’s thighs, keeping just enough distance between their hips for Alex to keep his hand between his legs. Michael’s own hand came around Alex’s front, his open mouth brushed Alex’s own, the two breathing each other’s air. When they took each other in hand, they groaned loudly, but Alex was already stroking him from tip to root, the hard, wet heat of him.

              “This isn’t happening,” Michael cursed, eyes closed, heart hammering. “This isn’t happening . . . this is too good . . .”

              Alex pushed his free hand into Michael’s curls, gripping at the root and pulling hard, anchoring him, keeping him there with him.

              “Touch me,” he begged, trying to show Michael that it was real, they were here, together. “I need you, Michael. Please, touch me harder.”

              “Yes,” Michael’s jaw hung open, “yes, yes . . .”

              There was nothing but the sound of wet skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room, Alex and Michael’s muffled grunting and moaning into each other’s mouths. In no time at all, their clothes were discarded, Alex’s legs around Michael’s hips as he drove into him over and over, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Michael’s hands on Alex’s ass, lifting his hips higher as he rolled his hips, thrusting his hard length into him. Alex’s hands roamed Michael’s hairy chest, rubbing his palms over Michael’s nipples.

              The day wore on and, with it, Michael and Alex’s hunger for each other. Michael took Alex from behind, keeping his hips up as he drove into him, leaving him to come untouched. Then Michael had Alex bent over the edge of the bed, groaning into the nape of his neck as he thrust into him like a beast. If Alex had suspected that Michael had been satisfying himself with someone else during their time apart, it was dispelled with the way Michael held him; like he couldn’t physically let go. He felt like a starving man who hadn’t had a bite to eat in centuries and was finally having his fill.

              He had one hand on Alex’s ass cheek, the other at his hip, his powers keeping Alex steady on his hips as he rode him. Michael’s head hung back, his strong neck on full display.

              “C’mere,” he urged, his hands on the trail of hair leading down Michael’s naval, rolling his hips and taking Michael to the hilt before rising again. “I want to kiss you.”

              Michael complied, pushing up at once as though he’d been waiting for permission, and caught Alex’s mouth in an openmouthed kiss, tilting his head and deepening it with every press of their mouths. He thrust up with every kiss, leaving Alex whimpering, the bed creaking. It seemed unreal that it ever ended, that they both came with enough force that their bodies simply refused to work afterwards.

              “I’m dreaming,” Michael said afterwards, when Alex’s head was on his chest and he was wrapped tightly in Michael’s arms. “M’dreaming, I’ve gotta be dreaming.” A pause, then Michael cursed, “I hope I don’t wake up, I never wanna wake up.”

              Alex couldn’t help it. He smiled against Michael’s nipple, pressing an openmouthed kiss there. Michael’s gasp was almost inaudible, and he shuddered, pulling Alex closer. It was impossible. Alex was already almost halfway on top of him, but it never seemed close enough for Michael.

              “Closer,” Michael squirmed, still panting hard. “I need you closer.”

              “I’m as close as I can get,” Alex chuckled, and Michael groaned in complaint, still trying to pull Alex on top of him, his legs bracketing Alex’s. “Guerin, you won’t be able to breathe!”

              “I don’t need to breathe,” he said, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulders, the other around his hips, grasping an ass cheek and keeping their hips pressed together. “I just need you closer.”

              Alex’s smile softened as he rested his chin on Michael’s chest and looked up at him. Michael was watching him right back, memorizing every inch of Alex’s naked skin, his face, his eyes. Alex couldn’t help but memorize him, too, so in love with every part of him. His stubble, his strong nose, his plump lips, and his eyes that turned the color of honey when the sun hits them just right . . .

              The sun. That’s when it hit him; it had stopped raining.

              Michael seemed to realize the same thing, the unspoken agreement between them that whatever this was—whatever they were allowing themselves—would end the moment the storm did. Alex felt Michael’s panic in the way his heart raced against him before he saw Michael’s breathing turn even faster.

              “N-Not yet,” Michael said, begged, his hands scrambling over Alex, trying to hold on. “Not yet, not yet . . . please, Alex.”

              Alex swallowed. He hated this fear Michael had, he hated it more than anything. He hated it in himself, but he hated it worse in the way it swallowed any peace and joy in his love’s eyes. He’d wanted, more than anything, for Michael to want him the way Alex wanted him, for Michael to love him in the same way. It only now occurred to Alex that Michael’s eyes never carried that happiness unless they were together. He wracked his memory for a moment of genuine joy he’d seen in Michael since Maria, and he couldn’t find it.

              They’d both suffered enough from their mistakes. How much longer was Alex going to punish them both?

              “Michael,” Alex leaned up on his elbow. Michael misinterpreted the tone, and shook his head, catching Alex around the waist and sitting up with him.

              “Just to the end of the week,” he whispered, urgent and desperate and trying not to panic and failing miserably. “Th-the day, just let me stay till then, let me make sure you have a real dinner, and . . . and . . .”

              Alex moved to straddle him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Michael’s breathing didn’t calm, clearly not knowing how to interpret this, but he clung to Alex, keeping them pressed together.

              “We’ve got time,” Alex said into the crook of his neck, cuddling deeper into him. “We’ve got all the time in the world, baby.” Michael tensed, and Alex stiffened. “U-Unless you . . . don’t want to stay—”

              “I want to stay,” he said at once, before Alex could even finish. “I want to stay here with you. I want to stay here forever, I want you to be my husband and to spend the rest of my life taking care of you. I want you to love me back, I want you to love me so much, I want you to love me as much as I love you. I want to be yours, and I want to stay right here, next to you, and I never, ever want to stop touching you. I can’t breathe if I’m not touching you, Alex, I can’t breathe without you.”

              Alex said nothing, his eyes burning.

              Michael’s hold on him tightened, his voice uncertain. “Alex?”

              Alex sniffled, and Michael straightened, squeezing him unbearably tight. “I do love you so much. I’ve always loved you so much. You’ve always been mine, Michael. No one else’s.”

              Michael said and did nothing for a long time, then slowly shook his head. Alex realized he wasn’t even kind of worried that he would be rejected. Sometime during the storm, it hit him how much he trusted Michael to be there. To want to be there.

              “M’dreaming,” Michael whispered, sounding dazed. Worse, as his grip turned bruising on Alex, his voice cracked. “I’ve gotta be dreaming. God, I hope I never wake up.”

              “I’m real, Michael,” Alex said, his eyes burning. “I’m right here. We’re right here, we’re together.” He clenched his jaw and buried his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, his voice muffled. “We should never have been separated in the first place. This is all my fault.”

              That seemed to wake Michael up, and he leaned back just far enough to take Alex’s face in his hands. “Don’t you dare,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I know what I did, Alex, I know I betrayed you, I know I almost killed you. Don’t pretend you’re the only one who ran, don’t you think for half a second that I didn’t shatter all of your trust in me because I swear, I am going to spend the rest of my life earning all of it back.”

              Alex’s lower lip trembled, stunned. “M-Michael . . .”

              Michael’s expression was pained as his thumb brushed Alex’s cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t even realized had fallen. His smirk was small and self-deprecating, and he whispered, “I really screwed up. I never thought I would, not with you. I always knew I’d mess everything up with everyone else, but never with you. You were supposed to stay safe.”

              Alex covered Michael’s hands with his own, holding his gaze steady. “Michael,” he said, “do you love me?”

              “More than anything,” Michael breathed without missing a beat.

              “Do you want to stay with me?”

              “I’d do anything,” he swore. There was no question in his voice, his eyes. Even as his brain tried to tell him he didn’t deserve Alex, Michael’s instincts pushed him to keeping Alex regardless.

              “Then just stay,” Alex whispered, rested their foreheads together. “Stay with me. Please, just . . . let it go, Michael. Let’s let the bad go, okay? I just want to be with you, I just want you to stay, so please—”

              “I’ll stay,” he said at once, letting his arms fall to Alex’s waist and wrapping tightly around him. “I’ll stay now, I’ll stay forever, I’ll stay however long you’ll let me—no, that’s a lie, I’ll stay even if you tell me to leave.”

              Alex burst into weary laughter, simultaneously sad and afraid and hopeful and overjoyed and so, so overwhelmed with feelings. He’d always been so good at managing those with everyone else. Not with Michael. Not with his exception.

              “I’ve never wanted you to leave,” he said. “I’ve never wanted you to let me go.”

              “I’ve never let you go,” he promised. “And I never will, Alex. You’re mine. I’m never giving that up.”

              Alex curled in deeper, breathing him in. Maybe it was because he knew that he’d never need to endure the cold of another storm again, not when his favorite scent in the world was right here in his arms, but a pain in Alex’s chest that he’d lived with since he’d enlisted after high school finally, finally, faded. For the first time in too long to remember, Alex finally felt at peace.

              “Good,” he exhaled, settling deeper into his love’s embrace. “That’s good.”