#just cut thin and then glued in place

[a-single-tulip]

Hello all! In just a little less than two weeks, I'll actually be graduating from university! Yay! 🎉

This means that I actually got the chance to decorate my grad cap, so obviously I acted accordingly cause ofc I had to go for Star Wars with it.

It was both fun AND frustrating making this, but I'm super glad with how it turned out 😁

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

MIND READER

Summary: Your parents sent you to your older sister Jean Grey to spend more time with her. However, you had no idea that one of her colleagues would also want to get to know you, but in a much deeper way.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, age gap, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), little bit of choking, unprotected sex (p i v), loss of virginity, cum play, aftercare, kinda fluff

“C'mon sis, don't look so grumpy” Jean said to you as you make your way to the X-men Mansion. You sigh and roll your eyes with arms firmly tangled on your chest.

“It's gonna be fun…my friend's are nice” she keep tried to ease the situation, that you're going to stay in this school for gifted for a week. It was your divorced parents stupid command, to get closer to your sister. You would rather eat a moldy banana with mayonnaise, but unfortunately, you had no other choice. Not even the banana.

When you walk in, your eyes widened as you saw the enormous place from the inside. From the outside, it looked really boring and old, so you were pretty surprised that it looked really fancy. ���You're living in this?” you asked Jean and she nodded with a giggle afterwards. “Trust me, this is just the beginning” she said and you follow her through the halls.

You tried to avoid all the students passing by and you immidiately understood why it's called school for gifted. All of them were mutants. You didn't have to read everyone's minds to realize that, some of them were clearly obvious, because of their unusual physical form. Some of them looked pretty normal, but they were giving you a weird energy, not the typical one from a normal human.

“So, act nice and don't be mean 'kay?” Jean stopped at the last door on the end of the hall. You nodded annoyingly and put a fake smile, as soon as she opens the door and walked in. “Hey guys!” you peeked behind Jean and quickly scan all of the people that were in the room.

“So as I promised, I'm here to introduce my little siser!” She stepped aside to reveal you, making you anxious at all the eyes being glued to your face. You waved at them and suck your lips into a thin akward line. “So that's her!” a pretty tall man with a weird glasses on his eyes walked towards you, his hand in front of you. You claim his head and shake it, reading his mind without permission. *She's really just like her sister, beautiful* you made a disgusted face, trying to keep smilling.

“Hey, I'm Jean's boyfriend-“ “Scott Summers” you cut him off and finishing his sentence, leaving him speechless. Suddenly, you felt a painful ringing in your ears that Jean gave you as a warning. You promised her you wouldn't read these people's minds, but you can't help it, it's your natural instinct.

“How did you-“ “Don't worry about that” you cut him off, again, and quickly put a convincing smile. The next person who shake your hand was a blonde pretty girl, that looked really sweet. However, when you tried to read her mind, there was no thoughts about you, but about herself. She wasn't happy with herself, with her powers. You started feeling bad for her.

“Mystique” she smilled, even tho you knew it was fake. You wish you could help her, but this wasn't the best time and place to do that. Maybe another time. “Hey kid” a blue furry beast was approaching you and you startled by his deep voice and visage. “H-hey” you carefully grabbed his hand, which looked like a lego peace in his palm. “Hank McCoy” he had a white labotary cloak, which you inferred he was probably a scientist.

There were three other people in the room, Storm was radiating the sweetest energy. She was even worried about hurting you, when you were shaking her hand. One of the two men was a gentleman sitting in a wheelchair, who clearly informed you via telekinesis, that he could also read minds. His name was Charles Xavier, apparently he is the founder of all this. And the last but not least guy was looking pretty hot, like really fucking hot.

You felt goosebombs jumping all over your body when he walks towards you. His mischievous grin hits you right into your core, which started unexpectedly pulsating. “Hey kiddo” his deep voice tickled your ears and when you grab his enormous hand, your jaw dropped. Again, you read his mind without authorization. There was imagination of you, naked and being fucked by this man right in this room.

You flinched and released his grip. Your shocked face made that man scoff, before he leaned closer to your face. "Logan, nice to meet ya" he whispered before backing up onto his place, where he was originally standing. You were frozen, your mind was keep replaying that image of his, bended over a table that Charles was sitting behind.

You weren't even woken up by Jean's coughing, which was a clear indication that you should move. When that didn't happen, your sister decided to step in. “Alright! We should probably head away now...right sis?" Jean laugh and shake your body, when she grabbed your shoulder. You nodded, still speechless from Logan's thoughts.

"Bye! See ya later guys!" your sister led you out of the room and the moment the doors close, she tightly grabbed your arms and lower herself to your level. “Hey what's wrong with you?" you felt better now, so you finally answered her properly. "I'm fine" Jean was still firmly holding you, raising her eyebrow suspiciously. "You sure?" you nodded and gave her a fake smile, that convinced her.

Of course, she could read your mind and find out what's really going on in there, but both of you promised each other to not read each other's minds. You've honestly followed this rule since you were little, so why break it now?

“Okay, let me show you this place and then I'll help you unpack your things hm?” you nodded, not that you really have a choice, and walk beside her. However, the thought of Logan still hasn't left you. His soft hair shaped into ears of a beast, his sideburns that beautifully accentuated his face and his coffee coded eyes. God, his eyes were the second thing that stuck in your mind, after that deviant thought about you.

You were folding your clothes and putting them in the wardrobe right opposite your bed. Jean was helping you, using her mind to speed up the job. Few hours passed since you met Jean's colleagues and you still haven't stopped thinking about Logan. You didn't want to mention him in front of your sister, but your curiosity and desire got the better of you.

“So…um what exactly are Logan's powers?” There was pretty quiet silence, before Jean answered. “He has animal-keen senses, which includes healing factor and adamantium skeleton” you hummed and pursed your lips while nodding. Yoi were thinking for a second before asking again.

“So he's immortal?” “More or less... rather delayed aging, but we could easily kill him with our minds” Jean smilled while putting your shirt in the wardrobe. “Why'd you ask?” “Just curious…” surely you weren't just curious, but on the other hand you wanted to know what makes him so speacial to be on the same level as Jean. Seems like having a fury powers pays off.

“And how old is he?” your question caught your sister off guard and when the pieces fell into place, she dramatically gasp. “Do you have a crush on him?!” Fuck. Your eyes widened and you gave her a double look. “No! No I don't-“ “Look at me” Jean knows whenever you lie without using her powers, you always avoid eye contact and play with your fingers. Unfortunately, you did avoid eye contact and played with your fingers.

“I don't I just-“ “Look, I'll be honest with you, Logan is not a good guy,” you finally look into her eyes, when her voice changed into serious one. “He was hitting on me, even tho he knew damn well I was with Scott!” she threw her hands in the air, looking really frustrated while you just innocently stared at her and listen. “He's the type of guy that will use you, before he throws you away like a piece of trash” you incredulously raised your eyebrows. You tried your best to believe, that Jean was lying, but her face was dead serious.

“Really?” You squeal quietly with a disappointment in your soft voice. “Yes…” Jean sigh and came closer to you, when she notice how much that information hurt you. "I want the best for you sis and that's definitely not Logan" she grabbed your arms. "There are plenty of other handsome boys your age, who deserve you a hundred times more than he does" you nodded, even though you were refusing to trust her words. You didn't care about other boys, you cared about Logan.

"I understand, Logan's charm is irreplaceable" Jean acknowledged, making you smirk and nod in agreement. "But still…just don't fall for him 'kay?” you silently nodded, knowing that you already fell for him. You were aware that your sister was just trying to protect you and all that, because it's her responsinility, howerer, emotions cannot be controlled, neither can desire.

It was late at night, the moon was already glowing through the blinds of your room, which was lit just by a small night lamp. Your eyes were glued to small letters of your favorite book. You read word by word, line by line and paragraph by paragraph, until you turned the pages one by one. Time passed but your appetite for sleep was nowhere to be found.

You've no idea what time is it, but thanks to stars in the sky, which gave more light into your room, you deduced that it was pretty late. You naively thought that reading a book would make you tired, but that didn't happen. You didn't feel the slightest hint of tiredness as your mind was filled with thoughts of the man you were forbidden from your sister.

Every nerve in your body, every muscle wanted and still wants to feel Logan's hand like the first time, to hug him, to smell his scent, to feel him. You've probably never been so miserable like that for a man before. It's strange how much emotions can control you.

Since reading didn't help you fall asleep and you needed some sleep, there was only one possible way how to get tired. Coffee. For all the people you know, coffee gives them a boost of energy and wakes them up, but for you, it has the exact opposite effect. A good coffee with milk makes you tired, therefore you are always 100% sure that you'll fall asleep like a baby after it.

Since it was late at night, you didn't want to bother Jean to tell you the way to the common kitchen, so you quietly tiptoeed around the halls by yourself. It took you a while but your sense of direction did not fail you.

You peeked around the corner and besides a beautifully clean and cozy kitchen, you also saw Logan standing there with a beer bottle in his hand. At first, you thought you were just dreaming and already fell asleep, but it felt too real to be just a dream.

“Hey sweetheart” Logan greeted you when you caught his eye. "Hey" a quiet squeak left your lips, as were trying to find a capsule for coffee machine. “Lookin' for somethin'?” “Y-yeah a capsule…” Logan walked closer to you, leaving you breathless as the distance between you was almost immeasurable. He grinned, before his hand opens a cabin above you and handed you a capsule.

You weren't even able to say thank you when he stepped away from you. He insidiously left you full of anticipation just so he left you and don't do anything. You started to get to know his character, he likes to play with people and that's what makes him dangerous, but also so terribly charming.

You turned around and clicked the capsule into the coffee machine. You awkwardly waited for the coffee to be made, as the annoying noise echoed throughout the kitchen. You subtly glanced to the side and immediately dodged, when you noticed Logan watching you.

"Is there any reason you're getting a coffee at this hour?" he stepped forward, but leaving a fair space between. "I can't sleep" you chuckle as you realize how stupid it sounds. "And coffee helps?" you nodded and turned your head over to him. "No argument against taste" he takes a sip from his bottle, signing that his sleeping aid is beer.

You smiled before a soft exhale escaped your lips. You stared at each other and you couldn't help but read his mind. It was a view from third person. You and him in this kitchen just like now, except that you were sitting on the counter while Logan was hungrily kissing you and exploring your whole body with his hands. Your heartbeat raise and you almost melt at the image, when suddenly you went back to reality as a beeb sound from the coffee machine rang in your ears.

You subtly cleared your throat and poured coffee into the mug. But before you could turn around to get a milk from fridge, Logan overtook you. Without a blink of an eye, he was behind you and holding a cartoon milk box. "Need this?" he was standing so incredibly close, his breath was brushing your cold ears. You inhale shakily and nodded.

"Tell me when to stop" he whispered, pouring the milk into the mug already half filled with coffee. You started feeling your core pulsating, but as if that wasn't enough, his free hand touched your weist. You gasp, breath caught in your throat as his grip on your hip tightens. "Tell me when to stop" he repeated himself, his lips now touching your ear, the milk still pouring and his hand on your body slowly moved downwards.

You realize that his sentence had two meanings and wasn't just about milk. When the milk almost overflowed from the mug, he put it on the counter and finally had the opportunity to give you all his attention. Both of his hands were on you, one was going down, second up. You knew this was wrong, that you should've already stop him, but you couldn't. You wanted this, you needed this, you longed for this.

You could sense from his touch that he's being really careful and gentle, which is hardly against his nature. But he would do the sacrifice for you. One of his hand was already up your neck, hugged it lightly, so that he had you under control, while the other was getting dangerously close to your private part. Your eyes were keeping flickering, trying so hard to keep your vision clear but Logan's fingertips were leaving you breathless.

"Do you want it?" he groans, his low voice makes your pulsating faster. You nodded harshly, wanted to say something but all you could manage to do was just a quiet tiny moan. That was enough for Logan. His hand slides under your pajama shorts. He chuckle and moved his head even closer to yours, when he realized you're not wearing any panties. “Coincidence?”

Like everyone, you don't wear any underwear underneath your pajamas, because it's way more comfortable. However, you certainly didn't plan on deliberately not wearing panties, if something like this happened. However, Logan believed the version in his head, that you predicted the future and decided to not wear panties on purpose. Either way, the conclusion is the same, Logan has better access to your core.

You close your eyes and exhale softly, when you felt his cold fingers against your wet folds. "So wet, just because of me?" his rhetorical questions was turning you on even more. His dominance knew no bounds and so did his fingers, that were gently rubbing your labia. You bite your lips when he puts more pressure into his movements, trying not to look like a needy slut, even tho you were.

Everything around you started fading away, the only thing you could focus on was Logan and his fingers on your pussy. You could feel his growing dick trapped in his pants, poking your ass. Your instincts made you move your hips towards his fingers, rhythmically and without realizing provoking his dick. His breath started being cut off more frequently, you tortured him. You desperately wished you could read his mind right now, but you were too overhelmed to do so.

You lost yourself when he slowly insert his finger inside, finally making you whimper and throwing your head back, so you were leaning againts Logan's shoulder. “Oh you like that don't you?” He grinned, watching your scrunched face as he felt your throbbing arousal. His hips lightly rubbed against your ass, trying to feel some friction too.

You started seeing stars even so your eyes were tightly closed. Logan's handy finger was curling inside you, reaching that good spot you could never reach yourself. Wet juicy sound wafted through the kitchen and for a moment, you forgot where you are or what your name is.

“Good girl” he complimented you as he subtly slipped a second finger in. Stretching your walls while holding your neck tightly, showing who's in control, even though it was clear from the beginning. You were enjoying it so much, you had never felt such pleasure before. You move on your tiptoes as you felt the heat, spreading from your crotch to your whole body.

Logan's curling inside you picked up the pace, his hot breaths turned into chuckling, as he felt your clenching around him. "Come on baby" he supported you giving you a last straw. You left a load moan and cum on Logans fingers, before you relaxed and came back from your high. Your chest was moving rapidly, as you tried to catch your breath. Logan laughed and pulled his fingers out of you which he tasted and grunted. He didn't need to say anything to prove how delicious you are.

He released your neck and leaned his elbow on the counter, watching your red face. "You've never been touched before, have you?" he smirk, but before you could answer you heard a familiar coughing. You turn around and saw Jean, leaning against the doorframe. "What're you two doing here?" her arms were crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You had no idea how long she's been standing there, but you hoped not too long.

"Just talkin'" Logan saved your ass and wanted to leave the kitchen, but Jean grabbed his wrist and looked him deadly in his eyes. "Let me talk to you for a sec" she dragged him into the corridor without leaving him a choice. Jean pathetically thought she tricked you into not hearing their conversation, but she still doesn't realize how strong your telepathic powers are.

*Stay away from her* your sister angrily whispered to Logan, making you feel embarrassed, like you couldn't stand for yourself alone. *If you hurt her, I'll kill you* *Jesus calm down woman! Why should I hurt her?* You were deciding whether to leave or stay, but the second option seems better. You sip from your coffee as you were listening to Jean's confrontation. You couldn't help but think back to Logan's hand placement and even though it was just a few minutes ago, you missed it.

*If I ever see you with her again I-* *Don't worry, you won't, trust me* after that, you heard footsteps walking away. You quickly straightened up and peeked who walked first. When Logan made a quick eye contact with you, you got anxious. What if Jean really intimidated Logan and he meant all his words? But all these negative thoughts fell aside when he winked at you, before leaving your sight. You smiled and giggle under your nose, as you took another sip from your coffee.

"Fuck me sis" Jean breathed out, feeling exhausted like she just ran a marathon, even that it was just a stupid argument with Logan. You raised your eyebrows, your smile not leaving your face. "Somethin' wron-" "Are you serious?" you provoked Jean by pissing her off even more than she already was. "I told you to stay away from him" "Hmm no, you said not to fall for him and that he's a bad guy" you corrected her, keep smiling. She gave you a real nasty look that you've seen just couple of times. Now you knew you are fucked.

"Fine, I'm saying it now. Stay away from him, okay?" you wanted to pull up the fact that you are an adult so that she has nothing to command you, but you didn't want to piss her off even more. She already looked quite tired and it must've been pretty late. That's why you decided to be a good girl and submissively agree to her order. "Great...now go to sleep" satisfied with your answer, she exhaled and gave you another order to fulfill.

"Night sis" you walked past her, devilishly smiling while holding your cup of coffee with both hands. You knew that Jean was losing her temper with you, but you enjoyed it. On the way to your room, you could already feel the fatigue falling on you. But you still thought that if you didn't go get coffee, Logan's fingering would be plenty enough for a sweet sleep.

The next day went smoothly. You started smilling more, stopped being grumpy and helped with cleaning the school. All that happily surprised your sister, but she didn't complain at all. Your work was helpful. You mopped the floors, swept the dust and sorted the textbooks in a library. However, under normal circumstances, you wouldn't do these chores at all. Logan was your only and sufficient motivation.

Since the moment you woke up, you couldn't stop thinking about him. About his husky breath tickling your ear, his hand tightly holding your neck, his soft fingers curling inside you, poking your walls until you came. You couldn't stop thinking about him. Your highest record of the day was one minute, when there was uncleanable dirt on the floor and you had to go on all fours and scrub it with great force.

Your heartbeat raises whenever you met Logan in the hall, who gave you a slight smile and wink, creating a waterfall between your legs. The enthusiasm was so strong that you really volunteered to clean everything you could, even with joy. Logan brainwashed you so much without hypnotizing you in any way, he's really dangerous.

The whole day went by pretty quickly and before you blinked twice, it was dark outside again and the moonlight glittered nicely in the reflection of the flying dust. In addition to the high praise and involuntary hug from Jean, you also received recognition from Charles, which is said to be rare or something. Of course you appreciated that, but you didn't do it just for some praise. Your main intention was to meet Logan whenever and wherever you could. You were quite limited, since that order from Jean yesterday, but you always managed to throw a flirtatious smile at each other.

Just as yesterday, you were laying in your bed, reading your favorite book, which you've already read like five times. Even so, you get goosebombs all over your body, whenever you're done reading it. But today was a little different. You were already quite tired. After all, you were like a maid all day and you deserve a long rest, but your body needed something else. You need to feel Logan, at least see him, somehow interact with him. It felt like he was a part of you, of your body and without him, you wouldn't survive a day.

It was pretty late, when you checked the clock it shows an hour after midnight. All the students, including the teachers, are definitely asleep, except for you. Your sexual scenarios about Logan in your head couldn't leave you and your desire grows every second you think about him. If you could, you would have searched his room already, but the fear of Jean catching you again was bigger and kept nudging you in the back of your mind. What if she caught you durring the act? She would definitely send you back home and you can't risk that.

That's why you sigh with disappointment and decided to turn off the lamp and go to sleep, when suddenly your heard a soft knock on the door. You froze, deciding whether to go open the door or just shout from your bed. The first choice seems calmer and quieter. "Hey" you froze when you saw Logan standing in front of you. For a moment there you though his hidden power is mind reading too.

“H-hey” nervously with incomprehension in your voice you widened your eyes, that were filled with expectation. "I hope I didn't wake you up" he gave you puppy eyes that made your heart melt. Yesterday you didn't even have time to take a good look at his majestic face, which you saw properly when you met him for the first time.

"N-no I couldn't sleep anyway" you cough akwardly, your face still surprised from that shock. "Okay and um sorry to bother it's just…I ran out of toothpaste and I was wondering if I could borrow yours?" he shows you his toothbrush and empty toothpaste, looking at you through his thick eyebrows. You look down at the toothbrush, then back up into his chocolate coffee eyes, where you got lost for a moment.

“Yeah, sure come on in” you stepped aside and opened the door wider, leaving space for Logan to walk in. “Thanks, you're a life saver” you chuckle and close the door behind him. Adrenaline was starting to run through your blood at the thought of being alone with Logan in your room this late at night. If Logan could finger you in the kitchen last night, what can he do in your room now?

"Bathroom is?" "Oh right there" you pointed at the door right next to the massive wardrobe. He nodded and smiled, before disappearing in that room. You sat down on your bed, right in front of the bathroom door, staring at them, your mind filled with millions of scenarios about Logan. Was that a sign that he appeared in your room just now? Or did he do it on purpose? Or was that a fate? Those, maybe pathetic questions, filled your head together with the imaginations and your mind was a total mess by now.

You were so busy with your thoughts that you didn't realize how fast time was flying and suddenly, Logan emerged from the bathroom. You quickly shake your head and smiled at him. “Thank you” he smiled back and walk slowly towards you. Your smile fade away and your face turned into craving one. "But there's something else I need" he licked his lips, his eyes flicked from your bottom to your eyes. You knew what he was implying and you shivered with anticipation. "W-what is it?" you harshly asked, your heart beating really fast, in a moment you though it would even burst out of your chest.

“You know damn well princess” he put a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek. "Read my mind" he commanded and didn't need to tell you twice to do that. You saw an image of you and Logan, in the exact same place as you are right one, just with one difference. You were sucking his dick. Your eyes widened when you went back to reality, looking deep into Logans eyes, which were black, full of lust.

"Can you do that for me darlin'?" he rubbed your cheek as you were leaning into his touch. The warm from his palm spread all over your face. A flame of fire began to form between your legs, making your core pulsating and clenching around nothing. When you pit yourself together, you nodded and grab the waistband od Logan's pants. He watched your every move, his erection already twitching with impatience.

"That's right..." he whispered, caressing your cheek and hissed, as his pants fell on the floor and the cool air touched his dick. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him in his full beauty. You've never seen this in real life, moreover, so close and so huge. The thought of him being inside your mouth or inside you excited you, but also scared you at the same time. You licked your lips as your mouth filled with saliva.

"Come on, open your mouth" Logan slides his massive hand into your hair, scratching and massaging your head. You swallowed loudly before opening your mouth and approached his tip. “Grab it” he quickly ordered before your lips even touched him. Your eyes met his, as you wrap your hand around his base, making him breathe out loudly. "That's it, now your mouth" he gently, with a little bit of strength, pushed your head closer to his penis, till his pink tip was fully covered with your wet lips.

He kept pushing you forward, hissing. "Yeah baby...that's it" you were already halfway through, his tip touching your throat already. "Now your hand" you instantly understood his short sentences. You slowly began to stroke him off, but your mouth was stiff. Logan helped you, pushing your head back and forth. Your eyes were glued on his, as you were watching him licking his lips and quietly whimpering. “Mhm good girl”

Your eyes started filling with tears as the pace of your sucking and the strength of your hand quickened. Logan was slowly losing his senses as he tried really hard to reach his climax. His hips thrusting inside your mouth, slowly at first, but gradually speeding up. Your innocent face from tears, while you had his dick in your mouth, was driving him crazy.

"Yes...yes" he clenched his teeth, the wolf look on his face makes your panties soaked. "Ohh yeah" he threw his head back, your hot mouth felt like the best pussy he ever had. He couldn't last long, few more moves of your head makes him curl his toes and dropped his jaw. "Fuck!" that was his final moan, before he emptied his balls inside you, pushing your head so far, that your nose bumped into his lower stomach.

His heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room. He gave you a soft grin, gently wiping your tears from your blushed face. "You're so beautiful" Logan grunted, making you chuckle as you lick the remains of his cum from your lips. "But I'm not done with you" he got on his knees and gave you a lustful smirk. Before you could manage to recover from previous activity, Logan held your thighs tightly, spreading them far enough to make your pussy peek through the soft fabric of your pajama shorts.

“God..." he huffed as he saw your wetness already leaking on the sheets. "You are the muse of all my wet dreams" he groans as his face was dangerously fast approaching your core. "From the moment I saw you," his hands slides under your shorts. "I wondered how you taste" without a second thought, he tore off your shorts and tossed them aside. You gasped, adrenaline racing through your body.

Logan gave you one last devilish grin, before burying his face into your pussy. You immediately throw your head back and grab his silky hair, as you bit your lips tightly. His tongue was briskly without mercy moving around your labia, sometimes gently slipped in, but he always doubted only on the surface. You tried your best to keep your moans and whimpers in quiet, but it was impossible.

"Logan" you rolled your eyes as his nose poked your sensitive clitoris, pushing you further to the edge. Your hands tugging his kitty hair, whenever he find that good spot. However, this was all just a foreplay, as the real fun began when he finally slid his tongue inside you.

Your jaw fell open and you put your head back in place as you watched Logan's face. His sideburns brushing and tickling your skin, leaving red marks. His eyes met yours, they were so dark that you could see your reflection in them. You loose it all when he smiled at you, his teeth brushing against your core. He held firmly your thighs, as your natural instinct made you move your hips to the rhythm of Logan's tongue.

His groans send pleasurable waves into your lower stomach, sending you even closer to your orgasm. His clever tongue was stretching your walls, tasting your juice and sucking your skin as much as he could. He sense that you were close, not only because of your uncontrollable moaning of his name and not only because his animal instincts sensed it, but mainly because of your clenching around his wet hot tongue.

You tried to ride on his face, to finally reach what you desired all day and what you deserve, but Logan was too malicious to indulge it to you that easily. He removed his tongue from you just a second before you'd finally release. You let out a disappointed breath, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as you look at Logan.

"Not so easy princess" he climb on top of you, making you fall on the bed submissively. "I wanna feel you" he kissed you hungrily, not wasting any time and pushing his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself. You immediately started cooperating, not only with your mouth but also with your hands, which you wrap around Logan's neck.

His hands were traveling through your whole body, trying to memorize every inch of you just by a touch. Soft moans left your mouth matching with Logan's impatient growls. You were relaxed until you felt something poking in your inner thigh.

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, when you came back to your senses. You stopped kissing him and pushed him away a little. "What?" he whispered, his eyes full of lust but his eyebrows were furrowed, confused. You hesitate for a moment, whether to tell him or not, but every time you felt his tip against your private area, you heart skipped a beat and the stress level were rising incredibly fast.

"I am um...virgin" a really quiet, almost silent whisper left your lips and your cheeks started turning red. The embarrassment and shyness raced through your blood, as you waited for Logan's reaction. He chuckled, showing his bright white teeth. "I know" you gave him a confused expression. Your mind started wondering who told him that and started suspecting Jean. "I don't need to read minds to figure that out"

Before you could recover from Logan's words, his lips were on yours again. You were relieved that he took the information in stride and you weren't so nervous anymore. It wasn't long before his hands were under your t-shirt which was gone in the blink of an eye. Likewise, Logan's shirt also ended up somewhere on the floor and your naked bodies were firmly attached to each other.

Your heart was beating, your veins were pulsing and your core was already clenching around nothing, yet. After a long make out session, Logan pulled away from you a little. His eyes looked into yours and he could feel your fear and excitement at the same time.

"I'll take care of you" his palm cupped your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. You close your eyes and nodded, trying to calm your breath down. He really gave you the sense of security that you needed the most at the moment. Logan gently kissed you, before you felt his wet tip inserting between your labia.

You squeak between the kisses, the pain started increasing as Logan pushed deeper and deeper. "It's alright it's alright" he whispered, his lips still glued to yours as his hips moved forwards. Your face tensed while trying to ignore the pain. It felt like his dick is endless and he kept pushing, leaving no room for anything else inside you. Before long, he was fully inside you. Logan waited, the kissing sound filling the silent room and your walls got expanded.

It only took a few more passionate kisses and eager touches, before you got the urge for some friction and started really slowly moving your hips. Logan smiled devilishly as his lips were still firmly fixed on yours, a low chuckle left his throat. "Oh someone is eager?" he started moving his hips too, matching your motions. At first he moved slowly and carefully, his intention wasn't to hurt you but to please you.

His pace was smooth and gentle, whenever his balls touched your ass, you whimper as much as your vocals let you. Logan tried to keep kissing you, but when his thrusting started to pick up the pace, he couldn't focus on your lips anymore.

You lost all your senses the moment Logan's tip reached your cervix and started poking into it. His eagerness to reach his orgasm took over him so much, that he lost control of his hips. He was thrusting into you as fast and hard as he could, your moans getting louder and caressing Logan's eardrums. Your room was filled with nothing but synchronized sighs, wet clapping sounds and bed creaking.

“Jesus….fuck” it was clear from Logan's choppy moans that he was on the edge. His tip was twitching inside you, every vain was about to burst and drops of sweat from his forehead fell on your naked body. He looked like a wild animal and that only added to the atmosphere. You started feeling the heat in your lower abdomen and the need to pee was increasing. Your nails dug deep into Logan's back, while he was clenching his predatory teeth.

"C'mon darlin'" he caressed your cheek a few times, wiping your tears away. He knew you were close thanks to your clenching core that sends him even faster to his orgasm. One, two and on the third hard thrust, you tensed your whole body before you completely relaxed and cum on his cock. You arched your back and moaned loudly, tears falling from your eyes. Logan was still going, desperately trying to reach his orgasm too. Your face makes it easier to finally inject everything into you and before you recovered, he pulled out and cum on your stomach.

White sticky liquid was covering your stomach, while both of you tried to catch your breath. Logan collapsed next to you, closing his eyes and gaining some energy, before he hugged you and pulled you closer to him. You automatically cooperate and laid your head on his muscular shoulder. You were quiet, your nostrils were massive as you were still trying to catch up the oxygen that you lost during the previous act.

You looked up at him, admiring his red sweaty face, which still looked majestic. It didn't take long, until Logan locked his eyes with yours and smiled, as he rubbed your arm. "What're you thinking about hm?" without realizing, your smile fades into a neutral expression. You sigh sadly and break eye contact. "I'm thinking about Jean's words..." it was quiet briefly. "What words?" you were thinking, whether to tell him the truth or not. "She told me that you just going to use me and then throw me away like a piece of garbage..." you decided to tell him the truth, even if it might affect him.

"Really? Is that what she said?" he chuckled mockingly, making you look at him again. But your disappointed and thoughtful face didn't change. Logan sensed your worry and sighs. "Read my mind" he said with a low rough voice, waiting for you to do so.

You saw yourself and Logan, sitting at a checkered blanket in the middle of the park while Logan fed you with strawberries. You giggle, but it wasn't the only vision that warmed your heart. Suddenly you were at the cinema, holding hands and while you were paying attention to the movie, Logan was mainly watching you. The next vision was in the kitchen, you baking cookies together. You also couldn't notice the small detail, that you were wearing his sweatshirt. These were enough reasons to make you blush and conjure up smile from ear to ear.

"I don't want to use you and I definitely don't want to throw you away like a piece of trash..." he pulled you even closer. "I'm serious bub" Your teeth started showing, as you couldn't stop blushing. "I really like you like a lot and uh…” you cut his speech by kissing him. It was cute but a soothing slow kiss that reassured you both, that you meant it. When you pulled out, Logan tiredly grinned and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You just watched each other for a while, enjoying each other's presence while you were still naked and your stomach still dirty with Logan's cum. "You tried it on Jean even though she was in relationship?" you asked suspiciously. Logan chuckled and shook his head. "Yes but not anymore" "Uh huh" you jokingly agreed, making Logan furrow his eyebrows. “You don't bealive me?" "I do" you agreed provocatively.

Logan devilishly smirked and attacked you, making you laugh and giggle. After a short tickling and prodding, Logan finally stopped. "Let's get you clean up bub" he said after he noticed his semen still laying on your naked body. He picked you up like a princess and carried you to the bathroom, where you both showered with a few passionate kisses and ended up clean and fragrant under the covers.

You fell asleep in his arms, being the happiest person in the whole world at that moment.

You woke up thanks to the rays of the sun that annoyingly shines directly into your eyes. You inhale before looking up, smiling as you saw Logan's sleepy face. His hair was tousled and he smelled like home. You wanted nothing more.

However, this beautiful early morning moment was interrupted by footsteps approaching your door. You knew right away that it was Jean and before you could wake Logan, she quietly opened the door. "Good mornin'!" she whispered and smiled. You nervously smiled back, unfortunately broking your promise. You controlled her mind so that she wouldn't see Logan sleeping right next to you, naked.

It must've worked because she was still looking at you with a massive smile on her face. "I won't bother you anymore…just get ready for breakfast, then you'll go help me with books!" You grunted in annoyance before Jean finally closed the door, leaving you two finally alone.

You dropped your head and sigh. "You cunning woman" you heard a dark raspy voice next to your ear, before Logan showered you with millions of meringue kisses on your cheek. You playfully giggle, trying to push Logan away, but it was useless.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked after he finally let your face go. You nodded, giving him a questioning look that asked him the same. "Well, since I slept next to the most amazing girl in the world...I slept great" he gave you another passionate kiss, filling your stomach with butterflies.

You don't know how to say it or explain it to Jean yet, but the only thing you know 100% is that Logan fucks really good.

[aethersea]

I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!

[jayswhorex]

dick grayson's hands rested on your hips, feeling the thin fabric of the leather mini-skirt you had been dying to try on, "i dunno sweetheart it's pretty short" he says, laying his head on your shoulder. your giggles fill the dressing room as you try and admire the piece of fabric hugging your thighs. here you both stood in the changing of one of your favorite shopping centers in gotham.

you had asked dick if he could shopping with you and the man had no problem taking you out. the two of you were close friends, so this was nothing out of the ordinary other than the fact that the man was glued to him, even with you inside the changing room. he told himself that was just going to help you change, there was no shame in that right? but all those thoughts dispersed once you had answered his question "but it's kinda cute right, i need one for my date tonight?"

and there it was, the brief silence between you two that made it seem like there could be something more. any man with an ounce of shame or maybe some decency would've let go of you by now but instead, he gently began to kiss your neck as if what you just said hadn't fazed him. "date tonight? can't you skip it f'me doll?" he pleaded in a quiet tone, his hand now scrunching up the letter skirt and lifting it "dickie-"

he cuts you off with a firm squeeze of your hips, you could feel his body pressing against yours, his harden crotch pressing up against your thin stockings. you didn't have the will to push him away and to be honest, you didn't want to. "what? you can always reschedule" his kisses found a way to your shoulder "and if he's upset by that, then he knows he wasn't worth it" a small part of you found that to be a bit sweet but another part you remembered that dick knew exactly what to say to get you in bed and he was doing it right now "that's- that's not the point dick"

"when did he ask you out anyway," he asked trying not to lose his compromise, you were his friend there was no reason to lose his composure over this but fuck that he had all the reason to. "like about 2 weeks ago when you had to go back to blüdhaven for work," he thought in his own little way you and him were…something at least. and it wasn't the first time he'd ask for you to skip dates for him and it definitely was the first time he'd touch you like this and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

"so what about me?" dick's rough hands slyly moved to cup your ass, giving you a firm squeeze and without even giving you time to recover and be quickly reacher for your face forcing you to look at him through the mirror "m'not enough now?"

"dickie that's not what i mean"

"no i get it, i leave and you get a bit lonely" he teases, pressing his clothed cock again your thin stockings. a groan slips from his lips, feeling your ass against his cock. the two you had practically forgotten you were in a public changing room but that would back to bite you at a later time. watching from the mirror, you take in the image of dick unbuckling his belt. and his pants & boxers fall to his ankles. he takes his sweet time as he pulls down your stockings, watching you waiting patiently "you missed me, didn't you babe?"

you turned to face away but again he made you look at him, "yes, i missed you dickie" and with those words, dick held and waist and gently pushed into you, his hips rocking slowly, trying to find a rhythm. you held in your moans, but the few that did slip out were not intended. though they did give dick a bit more of an incentive.

you placed your hands on both sides of the mirror trying not to lose your balance as he thrusted in and out of you. one hand focused on making you look at the other the other, thumb stroking your clit. this was the worst part about sleeping with dick grayson. the more you let the bot fuck you, the harder it is to move on each time. "dickie please, a little harder, s'not enough"

"don't forget where we are sweetheart, there only so much i can do with making any noise" you huffed in frustration but you could tell dick himself was struggling not to let any groans but god you were so warm and tight, and even if he didn't make any noise, he was surely going to make a mess of you. he leaned in towards your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses on the neck, he wasn't going to leave any marks not yet at least. those were for later, if you were going to stay with him "if you skip that date tonight-"

"dickie i don't wanna talk about him right now" through the thrusts and slaps of skin that filled the room, dick heard you loud and clear. out of reflex, he lifted your left leg for a deeper angle, a position he knew you feverishly enjoyed. you didn't exactly take pleasure in telling him what you wanted him to do so always took it upon himself to do what he knew you needed. and you knew no other guy would replace him and he knew it too and he wouldn't let you believe that.

and just like that your phone rings, while dick grayson is balls deep inside you, fucking you in a public changing room for crying out loud and you're getting a goddamn phone call and before you have a chance to decline it, dick answers it and you just know you're absolutely fucked. but dick hips don't falter for even a second, he continues to fuck you against the mirror, with not even a hint of remorse laced in his voice.

"ahh no sorry, y/n is a little bit busy right now"

"how about she calls you tomorrow?"

"a date tonight? well i don't think i'll be done with her by then…"

his hand let go of your face and instead gripped your hip tightly, a shameless groan leaves his lips, as his cock slips in and out of your folds at a vigorous pace. your nails dug into your palm as you bit your lip, holding in the moans that threatened to escape. dick had no problem letting your little date on the other end hear him enjoy the hell out of fucking you senseless. a part of you felt embarrassed by the way he was acting but another part of you was feeling too good for you to really care. the both of you were reaching your high, and all took was his next words and you came undone in a second, "gonna fill you right up doll"

you the line cut off and instead of being enraged, you were very much relieved. at least you didn't have to stand up to another guy or dump them due to dick being a "cocky asshole", those were tim's words really but to be fair they weren't exactly wrong. he attention averted back to you once he put your phone down whilst he was still cumming inside you, a mixture of both your fluids seeping down your thighs.

"still need to buy that leather skirt?" he asked with a sadistic smirk spread across his face, he still had you trapped between him and the mirror. "it's not like you're busy tonight, right?"

[meg-girumi]

How did you make your head for your Mr puzzles cosplay? (I’m trying to make my own, and I want to get some ideas for the face mostly.

Ok! Lemme tell you how I made mine)

It's gonna be a long one so...⬇️

The head

1) Make the simplified 3d model

It's only base. Without knobs and vent

Here's the link (to open it you'll need pepakura viewer)

This link is pdf (just glue sides with identical numbers)

2) Print it!

I used high thickness paper, so It would be more sturdy

Next is a long one, so you'll need scissors (scalpel) and a lot of patience

3) Cut out pieces

And don't forget to number them (If you're using the program it will be easier to assemble)

4) Glue pieces together

5) Cut out the hole for the neck

6) To make head even more sturdier we will strengthen it with plastic (not necessary)

I used 3d pen and pla plastic and covered the whole surface of the head with grid

Sorry, no photo :(

7) Cover with thin foam

I used white, 3 mm one

This face didn't make it btw

8) Paint!

I used metallic paint and also painted edges black for the cartoony effect!

How to wear the mask?

For head to be fixed in place I glued polystyrene foam (I had few big blocks left)

And to how actually get it on head I made a door that holds on metal hinges

Knobs and vent

Knobs were made out of cardboard and covered with foam

Meanwhile the vent was created completely out of foam

The hat and antennas

The felt hat was found in the arts and crafts store

Yet couldn't say the same for antennas

Base was made out of cardboard and then covered with polymer clay

As to how I attached them?

✨ 3d pen ✨

And the last but definitely not the least

Screen

The screens glass was made out of palette made of plexiglass (that's also the reason why here it's green)

on the photo the same pallet but this one I actually used for paint

Faces were made using the same white foam and acrylic paint

For the screens to hold up I glued small clamps to the base. This thing allows me to change faces)

That's how mask looks from the inside

As to how I see through them

Yep there's a hole in the mouth, covered with black plastic canvas. Yes the vision is a bit blurry this way, but it's better than seeing nothing.

Ok, that's all byeeeee

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Treason | Azriel x Reader

Day 4: Blood w/ Azriel

Summary: You come home early from a trip, only to discover a particular Vanserra warming the bed in your place.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Smut, gay sex, naked men, HEAVY angst, cheating, blood, violence (punching), mentions of illness, does not have a happy ending. this is literally just heartbreaking.

A/N: well, azris is now something I’ve written for. this is literally so sad, but gotta have something for angstober, even if I don’t think angst is my strongsuit. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was late when you got home.

You were supposed to stay on your visit to Dawn Court a bit longer, but after falling mildly ill for a few days, you’d decided to cut it off a day or two early and return home. It wasn’t like you were too upset to go see your partner a few days earlier, even if the two of you weren’t mates, you were happy with what you had found.

Or at least you thought you were.

The House was dark when you arrived, the sentient home opening the door for you, quicker than normal, almost. As if urgent, trying to pull you along.

You didn’t want to wake Azriel, assuming he was asleep by now. He rarely got good sleep these days, getting up in the middle of the night to take flights, saying he needed to sort his thoughts. You didn’t blame him. His work wasn’t exactly the best for his mental state.

Sitting down at the table, you waited for the House to give you a meal, per usual, but it didn’t happen.

You waited a few seconds, pausing, and glancing around as if to see the reason for the delay around the room.

“House? Can I…have food?”

You whispered to the thin air, knowing you probably sounded stupid. Hesitantly, you knocked on the wood, raising a brow in confusion, waiting a few more seconds before getting up from your chair with a sigh, deciding that you could just get your own food.

You walked quietly over to the cabinets, hand closing around the cold metal that felt a bit warmer tonight. The House itself felt warmer, almost uncomfortably so. Maybe the House was just having an off day, you couldn’t think of any other reason for its strange behavior.

As if to prove your point, when you pulled on the cabinet, instead of opening, it remained stubbornly shut, as if glued by someone.

Maybe another one of Cassian���s “jokes”.

So you tried another cabinet, the one that held the bread, and it also stubbornly refused to open.

After trying cabinet after cabinet, drawers, and more, you discovered that everything refused to open. It was as if the Mother herself had just decided to make you go to bed hungry.

Sighing, you gave up, deciding to just eat in the morning, quietly starting to pad down the hallway, rolling on the balls of your feet to keep your steps silent, not wanting to wake anyone.

Cauldron knows Nesta would crucify you if you interrupted her beauty sleep.

It was then that you heard it.

The unmistakable sound of sex. Moans and grunting.

You could recognize Azriel’s voice, but not the other one in the room that you and he shared.

You froze in place, almost stopping breathing as a sick feeling twisted in your gut, different from the nasty illness you’d gotten in Dawn. No, this wasn’t a physical sickness, it was a mental one. You tried to convince yourself that your assumptions were wrong, that you were overthinking and this was all just a big misunderstanding.

That you’d be able to fold into Azriel’s warm, strong arms like nothing had happened after this, that he would still be your safe place.

An invisible hand, familiar but alien at the same time, urged you forward, whispering into your ear.

Keep going, it said.

You must see, it murmured into your ear.

It felt like the wind raking through your hair, a gentle caress that was there and gone, a sad melancholy that seemed to already know there was no happy ending to this story. You’d been doomed from the moment you stepped into the House.

And so you continued walking.

You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination or not, but the air seemed to grow thicker, suffocating, wrapping hands around your throat and squeezing until you were almost hyperventilating when you walked. It was warmer here.

Much warmer than the House usually kept it at.

The hallway seemed to stretch on indefinitely, and you walked and walked and walked until the door was standing in front of you, handle staring at you.

Laughing at you.

Your shaky palm enveloped the handle, turning, pushing, unveiling the scene in the bedroom.

In your bedroom.

Your bed.

The other male was below him. Red locks that had a silver gleam in the dim light were strewn above him like a crown on the pillow that his face was shoved into. His ass was in the air, back arched, knees pushing into the bed.

Azriel was bare just like the other male. Kneeling behind him. Hovering over him.

Inside of him.

His hips pushed forwards and backward, a rhythm that seemed to taunt you, a rhythm you’d experienced before, but never quite so frenzied, never so excited or eager like it was his first time all over.

His wings were flared out, casting a deep shadow over the Vanserra beneath him. The Heir beneath him.

The enemy beneath him.

The door had swung open, the knob finally hitting the wall, and immediately Azriel snapped over to look at you, eyes widening.

You didn’t even know if you were crying. Everything felt numb, like a dream you could reach but not quite hold. Your limbs tingled, some sort of anger, or maybe sadness building, an outburst.

You could feel it coming as you watched, eyes dead, face blank.

Eris groaned at Azriel stopping, turning his head to look at him, but catching your eye as he saw you. He inhaled sharply.

The room went cold.

The candle went out.

It went further than just discovering an affair, you knew.

Eris was from another Court.

A Court that currently wasn’t allied with Night Court.

Azriel was essentially committing treason, an act punishable by imprisonment or even death in severe cases. And with Mor’s past with Eris, and how close Rhys was with Mor? There was no doubt in your mind Rhys would be pissed. Mor would be crushed.

Not just treason of the Court, but treason of the family as well.

Azriel seemed to realize this, rearing back away from Eris, the redhead hissing as Azriel yanked out of him. The shadowsinger tried to approach you, pulling a towel around his waist to cover himself.

Another towel was laid on the floor.

They’d both taken a shower in your bathroom.

The bathroom you and Azriel had shared once.

That sick feeling in your stomach traveled up and up, metastasizing through your blood, reaching your head and a blind anger overcame you.

Your head felt white hot, molten, almost.

Magma filled your veins, but not in the usual way it had in the past with Azriel.

His lips were moving. He was talking, saying something. You couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears.

You didn’t bother trying to listen as that magma slid into your hands, your knuckles and fingers as your fist landed right on his jaw. Just like Cassian had taught you.

Just like Nesta had taught you.

He visibly recoiled, head spinning, Eris was on his feet now, baring his teeth.

You were yelling, words that tasted like iron and spoiled milk and rotten food that had been left out for too long leaving your lips, hands balled into fists again.

Something warm and wet was sliding down your cheeks.

Azriel kept saying something over and over, the same words leaving him, and it was only when a smarter part of your brain managed to finally listen, did you hear it.

“He’s my mate.”

You heard the choked sobs coming from him now and saw Eris rushing to him, trying to comfort him. The instincts in full control.

Then your senses picked up on it, your body kicking into overdrive and processing faster and faster now that your fight or flight had snapped.

They were mated. Freshly.

They had used your away time to seal the mating bond.

You knew you should feel bad for the crimson liquid dripping down Azriel’s nose from another punch you must’ve thrown, not even remembering properly anymore.

You should be happy for them.

But instead, you turned on your heel, walking out of the room into the hallway, only to see Cassian with bleary eyes walking over, visibly confused, and Nesta close behind.

But she knew. You could tell.

By that anger in her eyes that matched what you felt. The silver lurching in her icy blue eyes. She saw you, and murmured something to Cassian, him nodding, and she walked over to your side.

No words were said.

None needed to be.

She knew where you were going already. A place that was always safe, no matter what. The library door wasn’t locked like the cabinets had been. It never was.

You walked in, and that strange presence wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting. You walked and walked and kept walking, the labyrinth of bookshelves giving their condolences as you passed.

You only stopped walking when you reached a small nook, an area with windows of stained glass, moonlight gleaming through them and color splaying out on the floor, onto you and Nesta as you stopped and sat on the floor, back to the wall.

She sat next to you.

You leaned forward, curling inwards, only then breaking open and letting every shard of broken glass spill out of your eyes as sobs wracked your body, shaking you, cracking the stone foundation you’d built yourself on.

The sand that had felt like stone until the storm came.

Until you had to mourn someone who was still alive.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

[peachdues]

y’all horny.

Enjoy a cut smut scene from The Great War, featuring Giyuu’s unlocked creampie kink.

MDNI. Explicit sexual content below.

His eyes fixed hard on the single bead of white that dribbled out of her sex, trailing down the curve of her backside before staining the silk of the kimono spread out below her. Curious, he traced the path it left with his finger, smearing it against her skin.

“Can you feel it?” He sat back on his knees, eyes still glued to his fiancé’s glistening core. “Can you still feel me inside you?”

Her eyebrows drew together in concentration, and she shifted her legs, slowly relaxing one to lay flat on the floor, the other still bent at her knee.

Her eyes widened. “Yes,” and Giyuu felt something smug and prideful roar to life in his chest as he watched her thighs tense. “It’s warm; very warm.” She bit her lip. “But — I think it’s leaking out.”

“Does it — do you like it?” Giyuu’s gaze dropped back down to where another thin stream of milky white escaped down the underside of her thigh. “Do you like how it feels?”

He knew he most certainly liked how it looked — a corporeal reminder that she’d chosen him, waited for him to return and allowed him to make her his once more.

That she’d accepted him — all of him — without reservation.

Greedily, Giyuu danced his fingers along her inner thigh eager to seek her out once more. He glanced back up at his fiancé and saw that her cheeks had turned bright pink.

“Yes,” her eyes did not dare leave his, even as she mashed her lips together as Giyuu pressed the pads of his fingers against her entrance in an effort to keep his seed inside her. “It reminds me this is real, and not just some desperate dream I’ve conjured.”

“It’s real,” he covered her body with his, catching her lips in a feverish kiss, savoring her responding moan. “It is real, and we are here, together; and I will never part from you again.”

Against her hip, Y/N felt his cock begin to stiffen once more. “Let me show you,” he implored her, his hand skirting down the outside of her thigh, coaxing one of her legs to hook over his shoulder, before stretching to do the same with the other.

With his weight pressing down against the underside of her thighs, pushing her knees nearly to her chest, Giyuu reached between them and gripped his hardened length.

“Let me show you,” he repeated again. “Let me fill you again, my treasure. I will do it as many times as necessary — even if it takes all night — if only to show you how real this is.”

He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, and Y/N cried out, her hands flying to grip his hips as she urged him closer. Above her, Giyuu shifted so his weight pushed her legs flush against her chest, her hips lifting off the floor of his engawa. With a small whine, Y/N’s hold on his hips tightened and then she was pulling him into her once more, the slickness left behind by their previous climaxes allowing her to take him to the hilt without resistance.

Once he was fully sheathed within her warmth, Y/N adjusted her hold on him, moving her hands from their place at his hips to behind him, letting her fingers dig into the firmness of his backside as she held him flush against her.

“Fuck.” Giyuu moaned, bracing his arm against the wood over her head. Y/N’s knees were almost resting near her ears, yet she only pushed harder against his rear, her nails sinking into his skin in a silent command to move.

His groin pressed flush against her core, the former Water Pillar began rolling his hips, each movement pushing his cock deeper and deeper into his beloved’s euphoric heat.

“I’ll show you,” he promised her, their foreheads pressed together. “I’ll show you how this is real.”

He ground against her, hard, prompting a stifled squeak from the Shrine Maiden below him, her eyes large and locked with his.

Giyuu’s voice dropped to a growl. “And I’ll show you how you’re mine.”

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Tonight you are mine

Warnings: somno (James is a freak,) very slight dubcon, brief mentions of cutting you, written with the intent to be afab reader but there's no penetration, thighjob, James being a perv.

Word count: 839

A/N: hii! I'm so sorry if there's any errors. I didn't proofread, and I'm not the best writer. I also don't write smut often so I'm sorry if it's bad. Despite that I hope you enjoy it.

James had come later than usual, and normally you're sitting in your shared room waiting for him. Greeting him with a low, "hello James." While looking up at him with tired eyes and a soft smile. Today you were snuggled up in bed, back facing him, completely unaware that he even came in. He shed his coat and gingerly peeled the cover off of you. You were wearing one of your skimpy sleep sets. A white camisole and a pair of matching shorts.

You always looked divine, but being wholly oblivious to the world made you irresistible. You were completely vulnerable. His hand brushed over the exposed skin of your thigh, and you stirred slightly but remained asleep. A heat began igniting within him. You were so soft— so pliant. He half expected to see the indent of his hand when he pulled away. Unfortunately, it wasn't there, and James thought about seeing the skin split instead. The idea of deep red blood staining your body brought a grin to his face, although that would be saved for another day.

For now, he unzipped the fly of his pants, and pulled down his underwear just enough to allow his cock to spring to life. A fat dollop of precum beading at the ruddy tip. He shuddered, and wrapped his hand around his length. His hand began working at a steady pace, occasionally running his thumb over the slit. A low groan tumbled out of his throat, and his eyes flit over to you. He expected you to rouse, to rub at your sleepy eyes and ask him what he was doing, but you didn't. You were still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the debauchery happening next to you.

This elicited a louder groan from him, and he realized he couldn't take it anymore. He needed something that wasn't his own calloused hand. He needed something warm, and that's exactly what what you were. He laid down next to you, shuffling closer, and the heat radiating off of you was addicting. He wanted to bite you, to rip the clothes off of you and take what he wanted. He refrained, only because you're so enticing when you sleep and he wanted to enjoy it as long as he could.

It seemed like even unconscious you were a tease. Your legs were practically glued together, and he's certain if he moved them to get access to where he wished to be most you'd wake. He knitted his brows together, pushing his lips into a thin line, contemplating what his next move should be. Then an idea struck him. he made quick work lining himself between your thighs, and the precum still coating his length would hopefully help lessen the friction. He didn't rush to get to the part he was waiting for, deciding to tease himself. He slowly thrusted his hips forward, and although it ached from the lack of real lube. The discomfort was gladly welcomed.

You murmured something unintelligible, and attempted to shift your body as if to change position. This was swiftly thwarted when James pressed a firm hand on your hip, forcing you to be still. He was finally getting an ounce of relief and he couldn't have that ripped away. Not now. He was just starting to have his fun. His arm wrapped around your front, holding you in place to prevent any attempts to run away. He started fervently rutting into you, uncaring if he woke you now.

Throaty growls and muffled grunts tumbling out of him as he worked himself to relief. Your entire body is jolted forward with every snap of his hips. You wake up confused, and the slick feeling of something sliding between your thighs only worsens your frazzled state. "James," you call out, your voice hoarse from lack of use. The sound of your hushed voice yanks a whine from him. "finally awake, my dear. Don't mind me, go back to sleep," He hums, pressing a kiss to your nape.

You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut when you reach an understanding of the situation, "you couldn't wait until I woke up?"

"not when you're so alluring when you sleep," he muttered, the feeling of his breath against your skin making you shiver. His pace had mellowed out, signaling his imminent release and a part of you wishes you were awake to help him from the beginning, but that's now in the past and all you can do now is lay here while he uses you to get off. A few minutes later, he came in thick ropes, shamelessly grunting in your ear as he rode himself through his orgasm. It runs down your thighs in rivulets, and slips down onto the mattress. Any other time, you'd get up to wash yourself off, but today you lie there.

"When you're ready please wipe that off of me, I don't want to wake up dirty," you huff, feeling the soft waves of sleep overtake you again. He chuckles at your request, pressing another kiss to your shoulder this time, "Of course, my dear."

[alavestineneas]

i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene   Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

-

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

-

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being  seen  made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

-

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors.  ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,''  Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods.  ''I'll take you,''  it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there.  ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,''  she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you  done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

-

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

-

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

-

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister?  Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

[amourtoken]

I will be the brave soldier that tackles this concept that others may be too afraid to tackle 🫡

I was gonna do one big post for the whole group but the Noah part took over so I'll split it into individual parts for you. Here's some stepbro Noah for you 💀

Anyway let's get into it I feel like im virtually stalling lol. Apologies if this is insanely long it may or may not be the longest thing I've ever written so forgive me if it's rambley or not that great.

CW: stepcest, mean/annoying ass Noah, oral (M receiving), dacryphilia, choking, spit, belly bulge, raw sex, facials, squirting, fingering, nipple play, mentions of breeding, Dom Noah ftw always, oral fixation, slapping (just in general, face and pussy yk), and if I missed any others pls let me know

*NSFW below the cut, MDNI*

♡ The day Noah moved in to your dad's house was the worst day of your life unbeknownst to you at the time. He seemed tolerable at first but it took zero time for him to become a raging asshole that lived to torment you it seemed. He always blasts music late at night, is constantly yelling while playing video games with those obnoxious ass friends of his that like to come over and somehow act even more unbearable and he has the audacity to walk around YOUR house like he owns the place when he's only been here for a few months. What a cunt.

♡ Noah loves teasing you as well. He's got a couple years on you and is SUBSTANTIALLY larger than you so somewhere in the back of his mind he feels like you're easy to manipulate and manhandle the shit out of cause he's older, bigger, stronger, ect. He likes the way your voice pitches up in a yelp when he walks by and smacks your ass hard enough to bruise, he couldn't resist, not while you had those little shorts on. He also doesn't think twice abt it being "weird" or anything, he really doesn't even see you as a relative at this point, you're both grown and you've known eachother for like 6 months at the most. The fact his mom wanted to bang your dad has no effect on his life aside from the fact he had to up and move to your city.

♡ every time your parents give you two the house alone, it usually goes one of two ways. Either Noah invites those previously mentioned friends over and you get to listen to them practicing new songs in your living room until your head throbs from the volume or Noah invites some random tinder girl over to fuck half to death while you get the pleasure of listening to it through the thin wall that seperates your rooms. You've done everything to muffle the noise, but the incessant rhythmic slamming of his headboard right against the wall is similar to water torture. If you didn't care about privacy (unlike him, he frequently throws your bedroom door open while you're changing or walks in on you fresh out of the shower) you'd storm into his room and tell him to shut the fuck up but unfortunately you're a nicer person than he is so you suffer for a while longer.

♡ you end up confronting him the next night while he's on a game with his friends (again being eye twitching levels of loud and annoying). You had the decency to knock but when he opens the door he's got his hair tied up halfway, shirtless, and shorts sitting so fucking low on his hips you can see the light trail of hair that runs up his lower stomach to his navel. You hate that he's your type because shouldn't that be weird? He's your step brother, that has to be weird right?

"Yknow if you take a picture it'll last longer, right? My eyes are up here."

♡ Noah apparently clocked your staring and he has this stupid smug grin on his face that you hate. Ultimately how can he be upset for you staring at him when his eyes are always glued to your tits or ass whenever he has the chance?? He has no shame. It's not that he's upset at you, but he knows deep down you're fighting something he gave into ages ago, and he's got you wrapped around his finger whether you like it or not. You can't stand him, or is it that you want to hate him so you don't have to admit your other feelings?

"Can I help you or are you just gonna keep staring at my cock? I'm kinda fucking busy."

♡ he's always been this brash and it still somehow shocks you every time. You hate he's not really wrong, you wouldn't have been looking if his dick didn't leave a scarily large print in those shorts he was wearing. No wonder all those girls he brings over are so fucking loud. You didn't realize you still hadn't said what you came over to say, it felt like your voice was trapped in your throat especially when you looked up at him and those pretty brown eyes of his. God you fucking hate him, you hate that you're jealous of everyone that gets to spend time with him and all of those girls he's brought over to fuck and never say a word to again. He's an asshole but fuck if he isn't a pretty one. You feel like this is wrong but everything about him is wrong so what's new.

"If you want a taste you can just ask."

"Come on baby don't act like you don't think about me how I think about you. I've heard you playing with that little pussy and whining my name before, so you can't really fake hating me now, huh?"

♡ you're literally standing in his doorway dumbfounded at this point. He knew? Oh.

"Bet I could fuck that uptight attitude out of you. Maybe that's all you need, some good dick."

oh!

He shifts from where he's leaning against the doorframe to palm himself through his shorts and your heart feels like it's actually trying to escape your ribcage. Is this even real??? You came over here to bitch at him for being a loud inconsiderate asshole and he's trying to fuck you? Why doesn't he feel like this is wrong, why don't you feel like this is wrong? Why do you have this childish crush on your literal stepbrother? You feel dizzy. Noah has you right where he wants you though, he's been onto you the whole time and he could've just been nicer to you but who doesn't love a good hatefuck? He figured if he broke you down enough he could build you back up into the perfect little in home cock sleeve he knew you really wanted to be. He's fucking gross I need him but he's not wrong, is he?

♡ your eyes flit down from his eyes to his hand that's wrapped around his clothed cock again and you thought your knees would give out. How does that even fit inside anyone?? No wonder his dates sound like they're in a slasher film, they probably feel like they're getting split down the middle. You don't have much more time to think cause he's pulling you into his room and forcing you onto your knees in front of him.

"You're so much nicer when you're not bitching at me for fucking everything. Always wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours anyway, can't talk with your mouth full can you?"

Noah laces a large tattooed hand through the hair at the back of your head and you wince at the sting. You feel like your brain is just empty now, honestly this whole thing feels so much like a dream you're not fully convinced it's real, that you're actually letting your stepbrother smear precum on your lips with the tip of his big cock. It's even more threatening when it's not straining against his shorts, the tip is a pretty pink and there's a big thick vein running up the underside. You can't even fit your hand around it entirely, and you're so wet over it you're sure you can see through your pajama pants.

"Open."

♡ you do as you're told and Noah tugs your hair a little more to angle your head back. He's clouded up your brain so much you barely react when he spits directly onto your tongue, reaching to smear the mess around with 2 of his long fingers. You're looking up at him with big puppy eyes that water pathetically when he slides those two fingers down your throat, thrusting them in and out deeper each time to see how well you take him. He laughs when you gag and your eyes water as he sinks his fingers as deep as he can get them, you're such a fucking mess it's pathetic but that's exactly what's making his cock twitch. You're exactly how he needs you.

"gonna be a good girl for me? Let me fuck your throat and maybe I'll make you cum after if you're good."

you squeeze your thighs together to try and get some friction when he slaps his cock on your tongue, he's so fucking heavy and thick you really don't know how he expects to fit anywhere in your body let alone your mouth. Regardless, you try. You reach up to brace your hands on his tattooed thighs and focus on kissing and licking all over the tip, looking up at him when you wrap your lips around it to see his head fall back in a deep sigh. Sure he's gotten head before but something about this situation just makes him so much harder. The hand in your hair tightens and he slowly starts thrusting into your mouth, shallow at first but as you start taking more of him and it gets messy, he starts going much harder.

♡ Noah's fucking your throat so hard you have fat tears spilling down your cheeks, you're trying so hard to take him well but when he sinks in to the hilt and holds you there until you're clawing at this thighs and whimpering around his cock cause you can't breathe you can't help but pull away to catch it.

"God you're such a fucking slut."

He punctuates the phrase by landing a slap on your cheek. Not hard enough to really hurt you but definitely enough to sting. Normally you'd be upset but right now? Fuck you're almost begging him to do it again.

Once you catch your breath you open your mouth expectantly and he's right back to it. This time he has both hands tangled up in your hair while he's fucking your throat. Thank God no one's home cause he's not even trying to be a little quiet, deep moans and growls freely flowing from his mouth. You can't help but feel a little proud of yourself, normally you don't hear him make much noise when he's fucking whoever he's brought over but he's being pretty damn vocal right now. You can tell he's close by the way his thrusts falter and right before he cums he pulls out to paint your face. Whatever doesn't land on your tongue he gathers with his fingers and makes you suck them clean.

♡ you'd think he'd need a while to get hard again but no, he honestly didn't ever stop in the first place. Noah's dragging you up off the floor and nearly ripping your shorts down your legs and shirt off your torso immediately, he's seen you naked on "accident" but now that he really gets to look at you and feel you, fuck it's so much nicer. He steps back to admire your bare form but he can't go 3 seconds without teasing you. He runs his hands up your body to massage your tits and tease your nipples, pinching and playing with them until you're whimpering and teary eyed again.

He "apologizes" by leaning down and laving his tongue over the sensitive skin, making you arch against him and you can literally feel him smiling against your skin. He doesn't pull away before leaving a few dark hickeys on the underside of your tits, admiring his work after.

You don't get much of a break for long before he's picking you up and tossing you onto his bed. You can't help but notice it's neatly made (or was) before he drags your attention back to him by slapping his tip right against your clit, making you yelp. Apparently he liked your reaction cause he did it again, this time with his hand instead and with a little more force. Your voice broke into a whimper as he started rubbing circles on your clit with his fingers to ease the sting from the slap. He's mean but he still wants you to feel good.

"Can you say please? I wanna hear you beg for my cock before I give it to you, gotta know you really want it."

that smug look returns when his name and various pleads spill from your lips while he's sliding his fingers through the slick mess at your entrance, spreading the wetness around and dipping into you just enough to feel how tight you are around his fingers. He's reeling over the thought of how tight you'll be around his cock.

♡ like I said he's mean but he still wants you to feel good, he knows you need some kind of prep before he gets to fuck you. His free hand is slowly stroking his cock while the other is teasing your entrance, gauging your reaction. He starts with just one finger but quickly ends up fucking 3 into you, watching your back arch pathetically off the bed while he curls his fingers right up against that spot inside you that makes black spots flood your vision. You're squeezing his fingers so tight he knows you're close. The hand on his cock comes up to play with your clit and you feel like there's a literal fire lit in your belly.

"Gonna cum for me baby? It's okay, you can. Just let me make you feel good, need you see you fall apart for me."

Your legs are shaking, you're panting and squirming. It really feels like too much and right before you cum you're begging and pleading Noah to slow down cause it's just too much but he doesn't, if anything he's picking up the pace. The sound of your wetness is almost as loud as your moans for him and it only gets worse when that coil in your belly snaps and you nearly scream. You're arching off the bed and clawing at anything you can grab, you've cum before on your own but you've never felt anything this intense and sure as hell never made yourself squirt so this is a first. Noah is elated, his forearm and sheets are fucking drenched but he couldn't care less about the mess he's achingly hard at the fact he got you to squirt at all.

Noah reaches up and makes you clean your mess off his fingers, sliding them down your throat again just to feel you gag around them.

You're so sensitive and your brain is so fuzzy you can barely hold your head up, your chest rising and falling quickly while Noah sizes his length up against your tummy and groans at your size difference. His tip lands right below your navel, fuck, he's gonna demolish you. He's practically dripping like a faucet at this point and can't wait to be inside you, he's wanted this since you two fucking met. Noah leans over you to spit directly on your pussy before spreading it around with his tip and prodding at your slit, he's not even inside and you're whimpering about the stretch just from him resting against you.

"Can I hear you say please one more time, baby?"

♡ you enthusiastically answer, pleading for him to just fuck you and he takes the chance gladly. You knew the stretch was gonna be a lot but fuck when he actually sank balls deep your whole body ached. You were so fucking full it was unreal. You thought he couldn't get deeper but he crawled over you to push your knees up next to your ears and the moan you produced was pornographic. His tip was pressed right against your cervix and every time he thrust into you he knocked against it, it was painful at first but once the initial sting of the stretch wore off you've never felt better.

You swore you could feel him in your stomach he was so deep, and the sound of his hips smacking against yours was filthy. There was that familiar sound of his headboard hitting your shared wall but thankfully this time you weren't annoyed by it, if anything it drove you further.

Noah's moans started out deep in his chest but as he got closer they pitched up almost into whines, he was bucking his hips into yours like an animal in heat and his nails were sinking into your hips hard enough to bruise. He only leaned back a bit to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze, cutting your moans and whimpers into pathetic strangled sounds.

"F-fuck- fuck fuck- 'm gonna cum- so fucking hard- tell me you want it- fuck, tell me you want me to fill this pretty pussy up-"

Youd never seen or heard him so disheveled but fuck if it wasn't hot. You didn't hesitate to beg for him to cum inside you, it made his head spin at the thought. God this was wrong but he couldn't help but imagine how pretty you'd look carrying his kid either. Noah pulled back just enough to have you in normal missionary, you wondered why but when he pressed his hand on your lower stomach you figured it out pretty quick. He could feel exactly where he was inside you and was rutting against his hand through you like you were nothing more than a toy. He only stopped so he could grab your hand and have you feel as well. His dick made a noticeable bulge in your belly every time he thrust into you, and it only made you ache at the thought. He really was ruining you for anyone else.

♡ Noah slid a hand between your bodies to tease your clit while he picked up the pace of his own sloppy thrusts. He was gonna cum but he needed you to cum with him. The hand on your throat absentmindedly tightened and you were seeing black spots flood your vision already but when he sank as deep as he could possibly get and whimpered as he came you couldn't stop yourself from toppling over the same edge. You thought you'd never cum so hard in your life earlier but now? This was really it. You sank your nails into his arm hard enough to draw blood while you convulsed under him, breaking into sobs of his name while he ground his hips into yours.

Noah pulling out left you with a horrible emptiness and you almost begged him to stay for just a bit longer. He was considering it himself but his thoughts were cut short when you both heard the front door downstairs open.

Shit.

Noah nearly threw you out of bed, scrambling to pull his shorts back on. Your clothes were strewn everywhere and you didn't have time to hunt for them so you picked up the first shirt you could find off his floor and put it on before racing back to your own room. Thank God you made it quick cause Noah's cum was still dripping down your thighs.

-

*also just saw the rb but tagging @somebodyllelse cause I almost forgot 😭

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!” 

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.” 

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander. 

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.” 

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights. 

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

[lovifie]

For my dear @lyralein (@support un-naughty my girl, you coward!!) and her mastermind of a mind, that came with the (correct) thought that Mr. Alex Keller would be a big shot at French porn. And et voilà! ✨The porn✨ (and when I say porn, I meant it. There is no plot.)

Monsieur Keller

Smut | 4320 words (Back to the masterlist)

Working for the CIA has granted Alex the opportunity to visit a multitude of countries, to meet unbelievable people and to push his limits on uncountable occasions.

In a couple too many times he has been at the verge of death, buildings collapsing, missiles flying a tad too close for his liking, friends turned enemies in the blink of an eye… But after all, that's what he signed up for.

Plus, sometimes, it also had some advantages.

Like meeting you.

And hearing your voice so sweetly call for him. “Monsieur, Keller!”

He whips his head around towards the sound of your voice like a dog well trained, turning to look at you standing on the porch of the little palace you lived in.

He drinks you in, standing barefoot on the first step of the short stair, pretty white summer dress accentuating every curve of your body and moving along the jiggle of your body as you effusively waved your hand at him.

He takes advantage of the distance, enough for you to not be able to tell the ungentlemanly places he rests his eyes at. The top of the dress, pulled to the center in a bow and pushing your boobs together calling him in like a siren's song.

He doesn't peel his eyes away from you, unable to do so; walking up to where you stand smiling like an angel upon him.

You shouldn't be calling him. The daughter of the owner of the wine yard shouldn't be talking to the lowest class of the employees. Alex's body is covered on a thin layer of sweat from working outside under the sun, hands grimey with dirt and clothes less than appropriate to be talking to you.

Still, when Alex slightly kicks the stairs to remove the loose dirt from his boots to not bring it inside, you are quick to jump at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him under the shade.

“You shouldn't be working at this time! It's too hot!” You reprimand him, the french accent obvious on your tone making him smile.

“Désolé, mademoiselle…” He attempts to excuse himself, cutting himself short when he sees the offended expression on your face at his french.

“Where did you say you are from again, monsieur Keller?” You ask, trying to switch the language to English again.

Alex looks at you, trying to remember what his last lie was so he can match it. “Quebec.”

You nod, raising your eyebrows at the doubt he is actually from Quebec but choosing to indulge him on his lie. You point to the washbowl on the table, a kind smile still on your face as you order him. “Wash your hands and face, I'll get us something to drink.”

And with that you disappear into the house, letting him the full view of your behind as you walk away. He turns again towards the bowl, using the fresh water to wash off the dirt from his face and hands, cleaning under his nails to make sure not a crumb of dirt has the chance to pollute you.

The door creaks when you open it again, a small tray on your hand that you quickly set on the table beside him. An unnecessary intricate jar full of iced lemon water with two just-as-intricate glasses beside it. But the first thing you grab is the small towel with your family initials embroidered in it.

He picks it up, patting his face and hands dry and checking he did a good job at cleaning himself before handing it back. You drop it on the table, slightly bending forward to pour the water on the glasses, and Alex's eyes are glued to the curve of your ass.

The heat of the summer hits you too, no matter how much of a local you are and he can tell by your clothing choices. The dress you are wearing is so dainty the beauty marks of your skin are visible through the fabric, as well as your lack of underwear.

It causes Alex to swallow a groan at his reaction over such a small detail when he feels his dick stir on his pants at the thought of pulling your dress up. His hand moves on its own, creeping closer and closer towards the flimsy material keeping the touch of your skin from him.

You turn around, filled glass in hand, jumping when you feel his hand rest on the curve of your hip but still, you look at him with the warmest smile on your face. You look down to where his hand is placed, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So pretty…” He mumbles, grabbing the glass on your hand without moving his other hand.

“The dress?” You ask, warmth rising to your cheeks at his touch while you try not to break the contact with his blue eyes.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows for a second confused before softening his expression. “...yeah, pretty dress.”

He is the one to break eye contact, dragging his eyes over your body, down to the hem of your dress. He bends forwards, glass still on his hand as the other moves to rest right where the dress ends.

Teasingly, he walks his middle and pointer fingers up your thigh, flicking the skirt up with each step and exposing more bare skin of the leg, while you watch on with bated breath.

He looks at your face again, so he doesn't miss your expression when he finally lets the palm of his hand rest on the softness of your thigh; dangerously close to your core.

“Monsieur Ke- Monsieur Keller!” You call him, trying to sound scandalized when he starts to close his hand, the fat of your inner thigh being squeezed.

But no matter how appalled you try to look, leaning back against the table; Alex notices how you slightly pull your thighs together, pushing his hand towards the middle in the process.

He turns his wrist in one swift motion, with the palm of his hand resting on your cunt. Making you jump to wrap your hand around his wrist, keeping his hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together.

His index finger moves between your folds making you whine as you close your eyes, your hold on his wrist losing strength. It doesn't take long for him to feel wetness dribble over his digit. The feeling making you unclench your legs, allowing him more space between them.

The arousal slowly dripping from your core allows him to slide more easily his finger along your folds, making it easy for him to probe at your entrance, making you close your eyes as little moans and whimpers start to fall from your lips.

Such delicious sounds making him thirsty, but not for the glass of water on his hand. He tries to set it down on the table, but unable to peel his eyes from your pleasured expression he knocks it down making the water run over the surface of the table.

It snaps you out of it, finally pushing his hand away and you stand, turning around to pick up the glass. “I- I better clean it up.” You hurriedly say as you place the glass back on the tray as well as everything else on the table.

He tries to call your name when you turn, but his words die on the back of his throat when he sees the wet fabric of your dress stuck to your plush ass. And it is enough to have him walk behind you, following you inside the house and into the kitchen just a couple of steps behind you.

“You were right, I shouldn't have been working…” He says, making you turn once more with a surprised expression on your face. “I think I might be overheating, mademoiselle...”

You look up to him as he walks closer to you, unable to say anything, intoxicating on his proximity. And when his hands finally wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest and his lips crash against your, the only thing you can do is kiss him back.

He moves his hands up, cupping your face as he hums at the satisfaction of finally feeling your lips against his. Then takes one more step forwards, keeping you trapped between the countertop and his body.

You can feel his groin pressed against your abdomen, feeling it grow and harden with each swim of his hips against your body. The need to feel his skin under your touch making you pull his shirt out of his trouser so you can bury your hand under, your nails dragging over the firm muscle of his waist.

His lips pull apart from yours to kiss his way down your neck, sucking your taste in and letting his tongue roam flat against your skin, feeling your pulse rise up at his actions.

One of your hands moves to the back of his head, tangling your fingers with his hair as you push his face into your neck. “Alex…” You softly moan when his tongue presses on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He shushes you, smile appearing on his face. “Now, now, sunshine… Where did Monsieur Keller go?” He asks, pulling back, standing to his whole height as he lets his hands rest on the counter behind you, caging you in. “Let's not lose our manners, alright?”

You nod, mimicking his movements when he does; you mind already getting driven by your body and not your brain. You follow his gaze when he looks down and see his hands pulling your dress up again. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs trembling with anticipation and he knows that if he pulled them apart they would be glossy with your arousal sliding down.

He chuckles when he sees you look so bashful, averting his eyes but still unable to look away from him, needing to see what his next move will be.

To your dissatisfaction, he lets the dress down; which makes you look at him with questioning doe eyes when he steps back. You are about to question the reason for his change of heart when you see him pull the chair from the kitchen table.

He turns it, sliding it until it's right in front of you. You look from the chair to his face, questioning his plan; and instead of answering your unspoken question he simply sits down, pushing it even more forward. He pulls your dress up again, stuffing the hem of the dress into your cleavage as if it was a napkin to keep it away from his meal.

He pushes down on your chest with the same movement making you lean back on the counter, propped up on your elbows and with a seamless movement, he slides his hands behind your knees and effortlessly moves then to rest over his shoulders.

The surprise of the movement combined with the way he presses his tongue flat against your folds takes every ounce of strength away from your body making you lay flat on your back.

He groans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, his fingertips sinking into the fat of your thighs around his head when he dives in again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, catching at your clit with a flick.

It makes your thigh tremble, threatening to close; which only encourages him further. Repeating the motion, feeling them flex on each side of his head; his hearing getting muffled with each stripe he licks.

But no matter how tightly you suffocate his skull between them, he can still hear loud and clear the moans and whines dripping from your lips.

He finally opens his eyes, not even aware that he had closed them as soon as he got a taste, letting the rest of his senses enjoy your body. But once he opens his eyes, he can't close them back.

From between your legs, the first thing he sees is your abdomen flexing at the feeling of his mouth lapping at your clit, your back arching at the attack of his tongue. The dress that he so carelessly stuffed on itself, sliding out of your cleavage with your movements. He wishes he could undo the bow keeping your boobs from his prying eyes, but not yet, not when he can prolong it and savor every minute for longer.

The only thing he doesn't love it's that he can't see your face, your head falling back; only letting him see your chin. He wishes he could see your face, see the product of his work in the shape of a pleasured expression just the way he's listening. But he'll see it later, when he's buried deep into you.

For now, he buries his tongue as deep as he cans into your cunt, feeling your inner walls clamp down on it when his nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he shakes his head. It makes you spread your legs, urging him deeper with a hand on his head. You manage to prop yourself on your free elbow, looking down at him. With your fingers tangled on his brunette hair and his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh to keep you close.

His pupils are blown, two black voids looking at you when you finally manage to make eye contact with him for a fraction of a second; before it is the last drop throwing you over the edge.

Your legs closing against his head again, unable to muffle the moan of his name as you come down from your high. His head is pressed so tightly against your cunt he can't even breath, but he would so gladly die there.

The moment your legs free his head he pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling your smell in the way. He kisses the inner side of your tight leaving a wet spot and then stands again, standing between your legs licking his lips like an animal after eating.

The sight of your body, sprawled and fucked under him, get his dick impossibly harder. Then you raise your hand, using your thumb to collect the juices left on his mustache and before you can pull your hand back to lick it yourself, he grabs your wrist keeping it close and sucks your finger into his mouth. His scorching hot tongue cleaning the juices from your hand without breaking eye contact, it makes you whimper softly; cupping his face with your thumb still inside his mouth and you pull him closer.

“Monsieur Keller…” You whine, calling him like a moth to a light. “Please…”

“I know, love, I know.” He says once he pulls your finger out and he kisses you softly, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hands find their way around your waist pulling you closer and you circle his hips with his legs.

He picks you up, just for a second before sitting back down on the chair with you on his lap. Your hands rest on his shoulders, being you the one to kiss him this time. He can feel you grind your hips against him, the softest whine falling from your lips at the feel of the rough material of his jeans against your sensible cunt.

He moves his hand down, undoing his belt so he can pull his length free. You wish you could see it, but the dress serves as a tent when it slaps against his abdomen. The little wet spot of his seed turning translucent the fabric so you can see the red tip underneath, angry with the lack of attention.

You raise your hips, letting him slap his length against your folds; your arousal getting it slicked and desperate for the feeling of your warm walls engulfing him like a vice.

But he's not the only one desperate for it, and the moment his tip catches on your entrance you pull down in a swift motion taking all of him in, moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling. His hands rests on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Stay there for me, sweetheart.” He moans, head falling back over the backrest of the chair. “Just keep it in for me, fuck…”

His hips move in the smallest thrust, the movement would pass unnoticed if it wasn't for how deep it reaches inside of you. He finally pulls his head back up, coming face to face with your chest. And no matter how pretty the dress is or how good it looks on you, it's the only thing keeping him from seeing you and it's time it goes away.

His hands grab each side of the bow, easily getting it undone and groaning when your boobs finally spill over. He hugs your middle, burying his face between your breasts taking your aroma in before he starts to lap at them.

Licking, sucking and biting every centimeter, his hips immobile making you whine pathetically at the delicious torture of both his attention and the lack of it.

You whine his name again, needing more than just his mouth on your chest. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Just let me taste you some more…” He tries to say, words dying down on his throat when you begin to move your hips.

“T-tu… tu es… trés…” He tries to say again, so enamored with the feel of your tight cunt around his cock it makes him switch languages.

He doesn't get to finish his attempt before you push your hand over his mouth, pushing his head back. “Enough with the shitty French, Monsieur Keller…” You moan, the feeling of his length hitting every sweet spot inside of you getting ruined by his continuous butchering of your language.

He apologised against your hand, doing it again when you beg him to fuck you, your thighs getting tired of the cramped position. He pulls your dress up, pulling it off your body, finally having you completely exposed to him. His hands roam your body, getting distracted from his original plan.

Only remembering when you whine his name again, picking you up to lay you down on the kitchen table like the most precious and delicate piece of art. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes.

He spreads your legs, laying his dick flat against your folds, sliding it in between making the two of you moan softly. It finally gives you the chance to catch a glimpse of his length.

The droplet of precum slowly falls over your mount of venus when he glides forwards, allowing you to see the glistering layer of your arousal mixing with his.

He moves you to lay on your side, moving your leg up, your knee almost touching your shoulder when you prop yourself up on your elbow. And at the same time he buries himself to the hilt, the double stretch making your mouth fall open as you look at him, a deaf moan waiting to be spilled.

“Big stretch, sweetheart “ He grunts as he sets himself inside of you, bending down to kiss your open mouth. He might have already been inside of you when you were both sitting down, but the new position has you feeling it all again as if he didn't.

The moan finally comes to life when his hand meets his shaft, collecting the fluids flooding for your cunt to wet his thumb and rubbing soft circles around your clit. You moan his name, your hand grabbing his shirt to ground yourself.

“Fucking hell, sunshine… Taking me so fucking good…” He moans, hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “Fuck… This cunt was fucking made to take me, love. Fucking perfect, you are. My fucking perfect sunshine.”

His thrusts start to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin getting louder and louder; only overshadowed by the song of moans falling from one mouth to the other.

He is still almost completely dressed, his pants still over the curve of his ass. So slowly sliding down with each snap of his hips, the belt clinking with each movement. It works as proof of his desperation to be inside, no matter how uncomfortable the clothes are, it is not worth it wasting time on taking it off.

Not when your cunt is sucking him in so deliciously, each rub at your hooded clit making you clench around him; urging him impossibly deeper. His shaft dragging along your wall, caressing each and every sweet spot inside of you.

It has you closing your eyes with your eyebrows furrowed, an expression that would make him think you were in pain if it wasn't by the loud moans of his name leaving your lips like a mantra.

“Open your eyes, please, sweetheart… Look at me, love.” He moans, moving his free hand to cup your face so you will look at him. Resting his forehead against yours, your breath hitting his chin. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum, sweetheart, please.”

You finally open your eyes, looking right into his when he slightly moves back and it is like an arrow went through his heart. He notices how your free hand grabs the arm on your face, not wanting to let escape any kind of contact and his heart melts when he notices you lay your face on his hand, kissing his palm.

Such a small gesture that has his blood rushing to his head making the tip of his ears blush, as if he wasn't balls deep into you. But he feels his ball tighten with the want for release, and he can't miss the opportunity to feel you come undone around his dick.

So using every ounce of self restraint he pulls the hand from your face away, moving it back to where you are connected, rubbing his thumb over your clit making you mewl.

He can feel you get tighter and tighter as your orgasm approaches, making it harder for him to move freely at the immensely pleasurable feeling.

It's only when he finally feels you unclench, your head falling back in a silent cry and your legs shaking slightly; that he feels you cum, your arousal spurting out of your drenched cunt with each thrust of his hips.

He groans, having missed your fuck out expression when you let your head fall and deprived him of the desired sight. So he moves his hand from your clit, moving it to the back of your head to move it forward so you look right at him.

And you look so beautiful, if he died right there he would die happy, so he can't help himself when he bends forwards, kissing you sloppy and nasty with his horny brain.

The last thrusts of his hips hard and deep making you bounce and whine, moaning softly and long when you feel him spill deep inside of you. A shiver running down your spine at the warm sensation, your hand on his shirt falling down to help you support yourself.

And it's when you pull apart from the kiss, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat, your chest rising at an unsteady pace and your cunt still pulsing around his length that he realizes how deep under his skin you have buried yourself.

He can't keep living like this, not able to sleep in the same bed as you every night, waiting for another opportunity like this, hoping everyday will be the day. He needs to see your smile everyday, to have your number, for you to have his surname, everything. Absolute smitten with you, enamored even. Falling so deep in love after such a short period of time, his heart aching at the thought of pulling away, how could he not love you when you are so obviously his soulmat-

“D'accord! That was a good one, let's wrap everything up, tout le monde!” The director shouts, bringing the situation down on Alex.

He suddenly realizes everyone around the two of you, the cameras, the crew, the assistants, the director.

The whole vineyard owner's daughter plot of the porn movie was a bit odd from the beginning, but when he laid his eyes on him he didn't give a damn about the plot.

Being a CIA agent had made Alex live in strange situations, but starring on a porn movie in a foreign country had to be the top one.

He barely remembers how this was related with the mission, something about some suspicious money being moved along with the crew. But in all honesty, he would also move all his money after you.

Especially when you clench for a last time around his girth, the aftershock of you orgasm that makes him groan as he finally pulls out. “Sorry” The two of you mumble, chuckling at the echo and blushing like you didn't just fuck eachother brains off.

He helps you stand back on your feet, his hands resting on your waist and unable to peel his eyes away from your face.

“Are you alright, Alex?” You ask, rubbing his biceps in a consoling way.

And you look at him so softly, almost unaffected by the whole ordeal, that it sends Alex into a spiral. Were those noises you were making real? Was the way you were clinging onto his shoulder true? Would you moan his name just like you moaned his surname?

He needed to know the answer to those questions, and there was only one way to find out.

“Y-Yeah, don't worry about it, love.” He says making you smile wider. “But I was wondering… do you know any good restaurants in the area? Maybe one you wouldn't mind having dinner at with me?”

[whore4abby]

could you do a abby x model reader i could just imagine abby being at our runways and just thinking about she’s gonna do to us after our show (i love ur writings btw!!!)

driver roll up the partition please; abby anderson x runway model!reader

warnings; smut - semi-public sex (back of a chauffeured car), fingering + cunnilingus (r!receiving), nipple play, mentions of a strap-on, tiny mention of a daddy kink, mdni

wc; 1.2k

as the night draws to a close, you walk out gracefully onto the runway for your final appearance of the night. your hips swaying side-to-side as you make your way down the cat-walk, creating a hypnotising rhythm that matches the beat of the music in the background.

the delicate material of your skimpy lingerie is almost see-through, your tits visible beneath the thin lace. the hem just barely covering your nipples as well as your ass also being on display as the lacy panties are cut into a minuscule thong.

the front row seats are so close to the runway, giving your wife an unobstructed view, letting her see every detail of your body. abby subtly leans forward to get a better look at you as you walk past, her thighs spread and her eyes glued to you as she drinks in the sight of your gorgeous body.

you make the conscious decision to put on a little show for her. walking with a bit more sass than usual, hips swaying with confidence. you look back over your shoulder, letting her really get a good look at you. she tries shifting in her seat but it does little to alleviate the mounting arousal she feels. her eyes are glued to your body, never once taking her eyes off her beautiful girl.

you finish the show feeling exhausted but so, so proud of yourself for all the hard work that's led up to this very night. the applause still ringing in your ears as you step down from the runway and hastily make your way backstage, desperate to see your wife, but before you can even start to search for her amidst the rush of people, you feel a familiar hand caressing your bare waist. “hi pretty girl~” she whispers and leans in to kiss your cheek softly.

“hi abs…” you smile at her, resting your hands on her forearms and feeling her muscles flexing due to her fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. the heat and desire between you is so intense that you feel like you might burst at any moment. she tugs on your arm, her fingers digging into your skin. “c'mon….i can’t wait any longer~” she growls into your ear, moving a hand down to grope your ass before pulling it back up to rest on the small of your back.

she throws your trench coat over your shoulders, you quickly slip your arms into it and wrap it tight around your exposed body, fingers fumbling to haphazardly do up a couple of buttons around your midsection. shouting a quick half-assed apology to your stylist as abby quite literally drags you away. “would you fuckin slow down!?” you scowl, stumbling behind her on your stupidly tall stilettos.

as you walk out of the venue, multiple flashes go off, fans are calling out to you for pictures, but abby keeps her massive arms around you and tries to shield you from any rogue questions and the horny comments from the onslaught of paparazzi.

you both finally make it to your designated car, abby shoves you in, not wasting a second before she she quickly follows suit, clambering in behind you and swiftly locking the door behind her. she mumbles briefly to the chauffer and slams down the partition just as the car starts to pull away from the sidewalk. the sound of soft music and the rumbling of the engine filling the small space between the two of you.

you feel her hands travel along your spine, pulling you under her and she leans in to catch your lips with hers, abby’s tongue pressing up against your lips before it slides into your mouth. her hands instinctively unbuttoning your coat and throwing it into the footwell.

abby takes your hand and places it on the bulge in her pants. of course. of-fucking-course she's wearing the strap-on. “you feel that….? imma have you creaming down my cock when we get home~” she growls into your ear.

your breath comes out in rapid pants as her hand slides between your legs, rubbing and teasing at your inner thighs as she whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe as she grinds against you. “you’re so fuckin sexy~”

she pulls away and starts popping the clasp at the back of your bra and yanks it down your shoulders, your tits spilling out. she gazes at your exposed chest, licking her lips before reaching out to tweak and pinch your nipples. “god i love these tits~” she gives them a firm tug, rubbing over them with her thumbs. you squeak out in surprise and she laughs at you in pity, moving to grip your ass with her rough hands, slapping the squishy fat and making you cry out. “abby…mmm fuck~”

“these little panties are cute at all, but they have to go…” you whine as her hands start to travel down, slipping her fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. she curses under her breath as she gets a look at your pussy, wet and desperately waiting for her fingers.

her fingers slip over your slick entrance and she slides her middle finger inside, stretching and preparing you for more. “so eager for my fingers…you really are a slut for me…” she taunts, sliding her ring finger in beside it, scissoring her fingers teasingly. you moan loudly at the sensation, praying the music mutes any of your noises.

she thrusts in and out slowly, rubbing against that sweet spot inside you that always makes you cum hard. “ohhh abs….feels so good~” the cold silver of her wedding band repeatedly coming into contact with your hot pussy has your back arching into her. “you like having daddy’s hand here?”

“mhm~” you whimper, biting your lip and looking down to watch her fingers disappear into your cunt before reappearing again, covered in your syrupy juices.

she kisses her way down your body, stopping for a couple seconds to lick at your hard nipples before trailing her lips down your tummy and down between your spread legs. abby smirks and leans down, swirling her tongue around your clit before moving to slurp at your slit. “fuck….can never get enough of this sweet cunt~” she tilts her head back and moans at the taste of your juices, closing her eyes to wholly focus on licking and teasing your pussy.

she lets out muffled moans and gasps as she tastes you, her fingers still rubbing and teasing your g-spot. you watch as beads of sticky sweat drip down her neck and disappear down into the collar of her dress shirt as you reach back and place a hand on the foggy glass to steady yourself as abby continues her sloppy assault on your cunt.

she continues to lap up your juices, curling her fingers inside you simultaneously until she has you cumming on her tongue, “nnngghhh….abby~!” you weave your trembling fingers into her hair as she keeps messily eating you out long after you’ve already cum. she eventually slows down and drags her fingers out of you and comes back up to be face-to-face with you.

you giggle lazily, eyes half-lidded as you gaze at her, “mmm, look at you~” she groans as she takes in the sight of you. all fucked out, laying against the leather seats of the bentley, panties round your ankles and your pussy absolutely soaked with your own slick and her saliva.

an; anon thank u sm for this request i had LOTS of fun writing it😵‍💫😵‍💫 and thank u for the nice words about my writing, it means a lot !!!!

[catandrabbitt]

Late

you arrive back at the beach later than expected after a game. chishiya can’t help but to assume that you’re dead

yandere! chishiya shuntaro x reader

warnings: mentions of supposed death, manipulation, aggressive behaviors from chishiya, references to sexual activities but nothing happens, mentions of drugging but once again nothing happens

The blonde feels his patience running thin and his heart getting heavier. Every minute that passes by without you showing up only worsens his anxiety.

He has no right to be irritated. He knows that, but he can't help himself.

You had left to play a game earlier tonight, and still hadn't returned. The players that had come back to The Beach have already filtered through, and the only ones left in the hallway were Chishiya and Kuina.

"Chishiya, don't you think we should head back? It's getting pretty late—" Kuina was cut off by the bitter male.

"I didn't ask you to stick around. Go back if you want but I'm staying here." He snapped back, turning away from her.

Kuina knew that the blonde had a soft spot for you, loved you even. But she'd never seen him react this way before. Even Niragi had never managed to get him this worked up. He was practically bristling.

"She's intelligent and strong. I'm sure her car is just running late." Kuina said quietly, taking a hesitant step towards Chishiya.

The male didn't respond, choosing to ignore Kuina.

Kuina didn't know what to say. Chishiya usually kept his infatuation for you under wraps, but the way he was acting was worrying her. She feared what would happen if you did return tonight. Chishiya had already used his executive powers to move your bedroom next to his so that he could keep an eye on you.

"How about I stay and wait for her to come back? You need to get some rest." Against her better judgement, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Chishiya's shoulder.

Kuina flinched when the blonde turned around and shoved her hand off of him, an annoyed sneer on his face. "Don't touch me." He practically hissed at her. "Go back to your room, Kuina, and leave me alone for the night."

She swallowed thickly before lowering her hand, turning around, and heading back into the hotel.

A few more minutes passed, and Chishiya began to feel a soreness in the back of his throat. He was beginning to get choked up.

He shouldn’t be reacting this way. You weren’t a couple, but Chishiya was so infatuated by you. He couldn’t bare the thought of anything happening to you.

The sound of an engine coming closer pulled him from his thoughts. Hope blossomed in his chest as he saw headlights coming up the hotel driveway.

His eyes were glued to the car as the players pooled out, grumbling about a 'late game'. The last player to exit the car was you.

Relief flooded his system, but so did anger. How dare you scare him like that?

"Y/N." His cold voice called out, catching the attention of the tired girl. He noticed you had a cut on your cheek, and a deeper cut on your arm.

"Hey, Chishiya." You breathed out, clearly exhausted. "Late game tonight—"

"I don't care." He cut you off, his feline eyes narrowing into slits. Your eyes widened at his tone and blunt statement, and immediately noticed that he was angry.

"What's wrong—?"

"My room. Now." He said firmly, before turning around and beginning to walk inside. You were confused, but followed nonetheless. You were neighbors, after all, so there wasn’t anywhere you really could go.

You trailed silently after the fuming blonde, wondering what could have possibly set him off like this. He was usually so calm and collected that it was concerning to see him act this way.

"Chishiya, what happened? Did—" He cut you off once more by practically ripping his door off the hinges.

"Get inside." He ordered through grit teeth. You stared at him for a few moments, trying to get a read on him, before deciding it was pointless and hesitantly trailing inside. You heard the door slam behind him as he entered after you.

The two of you stood in silence. Chishiya had his hands in his pockets and you had your arms crossed.

"What the hell was that, Y/N?" Chishiya finally said, his eyebrow twitching.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Chishiya said lowly, stepping closer to you. "Coming back from your game late and nearly giving me a heart attack? I stood outside for almost an hour, waiting for you to return."

You scoffed, feeling a twinge of annoyance that he had the audacity to be mad at you. "I can't help that my game ran longer than it was supposed to. I didn't strike you as the type to care, anyway. Since when have you concerned yourself with other people's deaths?"

Chishiya was practically chest-to-chest with you at this point. While he was a generally shorter male, he still had a height advantage over you by a few inches.

He didn't answer you for a few moments, only glaring down at you.

"You reserve no right to be mad at me." You said, quiet enough for him to hear. "You'd sacrifice me if you had the chance just to save your own ass."

You shoved him away from you, going to leave his room. However, Chishiya caught your wrist and pulled you back towards him, wrapping his arms around you.

"You're wrong." Chishiya muttered, pushing your back into the wall where he now had you pressed against. "We're meant to be, Y/N. I can't help that I care about you."

"'Meant to be'?" She almost scoffed. "Ever since I've known you I got the vibe that you hated me, and now you're spouting this bullshit? Get a grip, Chishiya. You're manipulating me." You tried pushing him away again, but he only pressed you back into the wall.

"I'm not. You're mine, and I'll be damned if I let the games or anyone else take you from me." His breath was hot against your face. You had never seen Chishiya this riled up.

You didn't know what to say. You avoided his fiery gaze for a couple moments, before he sighed and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Allow me to bandage you up." He uttered after a few seconds, pulling away from you and tugging you towards his bed. "Sit."

You obeyed his simple command as Chishiya entered his bathroom. You could hear some cabinets opening and closing, items being shuffled around before he returned with a first aid kit and some napkins.

"Since when do you know how to tend wounds?" You raised an eyebrow, an attempt at trying to lighten the mood.

He glanced up at you, an unimpressed look on his face. "I'm a doctor." His statement was cold and blunt. You practically felt relief that he was finally back to acting how he usually does, rather than the side of Chishiya you saw moments prior.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Chishiya bandaged your arm and face up and cleaned up any blood, and you just watched him.

Your eyes trailed his figure as he got up to put the first aid kit back into the restroom. When he came back, you stood up. "Thanks for the help, doc. I think I'm gonna head back to my room for the night."

When you made a move for the door, Chishiya intercepted you, standing in front of the doorway.

You sighed, fed up with him tonight. "What has gotten into you tonight, Chishiya? Sure, my car was late, but—"

"Stay with me tonight." He stated, not breaking eye contact with you. "Don't worry, we won't do anything if you're worried about that. My bed has more than enough space for us both."

You would stay with him regardless. He could only hope that you’d stay willingly, so that he wouldn't have to use force on you.

"Please." He added after a few moments, for good measure.

There's a small, sadistic glint in his eyes that makes you uneasy. His behavior tonight was making you on edge.

Finally, you sighed once more and crossed your arms. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Definitely." There was no hesitation with his response.

"Alright then. I'll stay for tonight." You accepted, ignoring the voice in the back of your head saying that this was not a good idea at all.

"Glad to hear it. I wouldn't have wanted things to get nasty." Chishiya gave you his signature sly smirk. "Go ahead and get comfortable."

You made your way over to his bed silently as he heads off towards the bathroom. You were pushing your nerves down, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay.

While he was gone, you contemplated rushing out the door. However, you knew that if Chishiya really wanted you to stay tonight, he’d either drag you back or just stay in your room.

You had barely made it under the blankets by the time Chishiya emerged from the restroom, a faint minty air surrounding him now. He got on the bed from the other side, slipping under his blankets.

You let out a squeak as Chishiya's surprisingly strong arms wrapped around you, effectively pressing you against him as he snuggled farther under the blankets. One of his hands gently rubs against your back, the other brushing against your hair.

"Chishiya..?" You whispered, a little nervous at the sudden contact.

"What? Not a big cuddler?" You could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

"It's not that. I just didn't expect you to be a big cuddler." You replied, cautiously wrapping your arms around his waist. If you could see his face, you would have seen the way his face reddened at your acceptance.

He actually smelled really nice, like fresh rain and peppermint. This might not be so bad.

Your head snuggled deeper into his embrace, much to his enjoyment. Very soon, you began to fall asleep in his arms, surprisingly relaxed.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed. Chishiya felt the way your breathing slowed, how your grip loosened ever so slightly on his waist.

He hummed, watching your chest rise up and down rhythmically. "Y/N?" You don’t respond, confirming that you were already fast asleep.

A cruel smile that he had been suppressing all night makes it's way across his face.

Finally, he got the chance to fall asleep with you. And even better, cuddle. He hadn't meant to scare you when he got mad, but he couldn't help it. If he lost you, he didn't know what he'd do, or if he could even handle it.

It's okay. It all worked out well in the end.

Chishiya smirks at your still-tight cling to his waist.

Maybe too well.

He's glad that you agreed without too much of a struggle. He sighed and pressed a ghost of a kiss to your cheek.

Of course, on any other night he could have dragged you from your room and forced you to fall asleep with him, but imagining you thrashing around and trying to get away from him left a bad taste in his mouth.

If you had walked out of his room tonight, he would have had to drug you or hurt you to get what he wanted.

He prefers this scenario much, much more, with you as a conscious and willing participant.

Maybe you two would have to do this again.

[goblinontour]

He’s My Man

and I love him like nobody else can

warnings: smut, just normal fucking, parasocial, obsessive, possessive behaviour, the usual

word count: 10.3k

The club was thick with bodies, shadows moving against shadows. The kind of place where it was easy to get lost, to blend in with the noise, the drinks, and the haze of cigarette smoke. But not me. I didn’t come here to disappear.

I came to watch him.

From my seat at the bar, I had the perfect view of him, all sharp cheekbones and dark allure. He was onstage, fingers gliding over his guitar. His voice, that velvet murmur, wrapped itself around the room like a secret shared with every soul present. But only I knew the truth. He was mine.

He didn’t know it yet, but he was. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I watched him like I always did, and the fantasy played out the same way in my mind: our eyes would meet, he’d smile — just for me — and we’d fall into step, into each other, as if we’d always been connected. There was something between us, wasn’t there? Some unspoken bond I couldn’t explain, but I felt it. Deep down.

But then, somewhere in the back of my mind, a whisper: He doesn’t see you. He doesn’t even know your name.

I silenced it with another sip of my drink. The bitter burn of whiskey washed down the truth, letting the lie sit comfortably on my tongue. I was his, and that had to mean something, right?

The set was almost over. Alex crooned the last few notes of a song I couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears. He was standing under the harsh glow of the stage lights, his silhouette cutting through the smoky air like a living dream. I couldn’t look away, even as I saw the other girls edging closer to the front of the stage, their wide eyes glued to him, hanging on every word, every strum of his guitar.

They didn’t know him like I did. They couldn’t.

But then, did I?

The whisper came back, louder this time, gnawing at the edges of my fantasy. I gripped the glass tighter in my hand, refusing to let it take hold. I was his. I had to be. He’d just never said it. Yet.

The set ended, and he gave a quick wave before disappearing off the stage. The crowd began to thin out, voices rising as people ordered their last drinks, sharing laughs and fleeting moments. I didn’t move. My eyes stayed on the door to the back of the stage, waiting for him to come out, waiting for the moment he’d see me, like he was supposed to.

Minutes passed. The ice in my glass had melted. The crowd was mostly gone, but I stayed glued to my seat, the remnants of a buzz still coursing through me. Maybe I should leave, slip out into the night and pretend it was just another evening where he didn’t notice me. Again.

But then the door creaked open.

Alex stepped out, casual in his black jacket, the sleeves slightly rolled up, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He wasn’t performing anymore. He was just himself, and the sight of him — offstage, real, so close — made my heart stutter.

He walked toward the bar, and the rational part of me screamed that he wasn’t coming for me. He didn’t even know I existed. But what if…?

I turned my head slightly, pretending not to notice him as I sipped my drink, trying to act indifferent, like I hadn’t been waiting for him all night.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice was low, barely above a murmur, but it cut through the noise of the bar and struck me straight to my core. Slowly, I turned to face him. He was standing right next to me, waiting for me to answer.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. For a moment, the reality of the situation — of him, actually noticing me — left me mute. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. 

“N-no.” I stammered finally, my voice catching in my throat. “Go ahead.”

He slid onto the stool beside me, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and cologne. I could hardly believe this was happening. My brain couldn’t catch up to the moment. I’d spent so long thinking he was mine — somehow, in some way — and now, here he was, inches away, and I didn’t know what to say.

Alex took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, the smoke curling between us before he turned his eyes on me. They were dark, unreadable. For a second, I swore I saw a flicker of recognition, but it was gone before I could hold onto it.

“Good show tonight.” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Thanks.” he said, his eyes drifting over me with mild interest. He leaned back, taking another drag, completely at ease.

I tried to read him, to find a trace of what I wanted so badly to believe was there — that connection, the one I had been telling myself was real all this time. But there was nothing. Not really.

I swallowed hard, the whiskey no longer enough to dull the sharp edge of reality. He didn’t know me. Not like I thought. I wasn’t his, and he wasn’t mine. It was all just a fantasy, a dream I’d built up in my head while he moved through his own world, oblivious.

But for now, I could pretend. Just for tonight.

He turned to me again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

I nodded, unable to trust myself to say much more.

He didn’t know me. Not really. Not at all. 

But in this moment, under the soft hum of bar lights and the fading echo of his music still ringing in my ears, it almost felt like he did.

And that was enough.

It started with that night. The one where he finally noticed me.

I’d spent so many evenings watching him from the shadows, believing we were connected in some unseen way. And then, as if the universe had finally tilted in my favour, he’d asked to sit next to me. For a moment, my reality had collided with the dream I had been spinning in my mind for so long. He noticed me. He spoke to me. And that was all it took to blur the line between fantasy and something more.

That night, I went home buzzing with a sense of victory. He had looked at me, really looked at me. I told myself that it meant something, even as a part of me — the part I tried to ignore — whispered that maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe he was just being polite. But no, I told myself, he had noticed me, and that meant I was no longer invisible to him. I clung to that idea, let it wrap around me like armour.

The next time I went to see him perform, things were different. I stood in my usual spot at the back of the room, but this time I wasn’t just another face in the crowd. When his eyes swept over the audience, they landed on me — and for the briefest of moments, they lingered. My heart raced. He remembered me.

Or so I told myself.

We had been talking after his sets for weeks now. Always the same scene: the noise of the bar surrounding us, voices blending into an indistinct hum, but all I could focus on was him. 

Alex leaned against the bar, his posture casual but commanding, like he owned the space without trying. Because he did. His fingers wrapped around a glass of something dark, the ice clinking softly as he swirled it. He turned his head slightly, looking at me with that half-smile of his, the one I told myself was just for me.

“You always stick around after the shows.” he said, his voice low, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. Teasing? Curious? It was always hard to tell.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, even though every nerve in my body was buzzing just from the way he was looking at me. “Guess I like the music.”

He smirked, and his gaze lingered on me just a little longer than usual. It was subtle, but I noticed. I always noticed. His eyes darkened in that way they sometimes did when we talked, like he was really seeing me. Like there was more going on beneath the surface.

“Yeah? Is that all?” His voice was smooth, his words slow, like he was drawing them out just for the effect it had on me. And it worked. My pulse quickened.

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t trust my voice. Instead, I sipped my drink, letting the whiskey burn down my throat as I gathered the nerve to say something — anything — that didn’t make me sound desperate. But before I could, he stepped closer, closing the distance between us just enough for me to feel the warmth of his body.

He smelled faintly of cigarettes and something else, something heady and intoxicating, like he was his own brand of danger. His eyes met mine again, and this time, I couldn’t look away. There was something in the way he held my gaze, something that made the rest of the room fade into the background. 

“You know,” he said softly, “I see you. Every night. Always watching.”

My heart skipped a beat. He noticed me. All this time, I had convinced myself that he was aware of me, but hearing him say it was different. It made it real, more real than anything I’d imagined. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“And I’m watching for you, too.”

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. His voice had dropped to a murmur, so low I had to lean in just to catch it. But I didn’t mind. Being this close to him felt like stepping into a dream. His eyes traced my face, lingering on my lips, and my breath hitched. 

Before I could say anything, his hand found its way to my wrist, fingers brushing lightly against my skin, sending a shiver through me. I looked down at where he touched me, then back up at him, my mind racing. Was this happening?

“Alex.” I whispered, not sure what I meant to say, but his name felt right on my lips.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to my lips again before returning to mine. It was slow, the way he leaned in, and suddenly, everything around us fell away. The chatter, the music, the clinking of glasses. It was all distant, like white noise. 

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and inviting. Time stretched, suspended in the space between us, and for a split second, I wondered if I had imagined it all. Maybe this was just another one of my fantasies, another trick my mind was playing on me.

But then he kissed me.

It was soft at first, almost tentative, like he was waiting for something — for me to respond, maybe, or for me to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. His lips were warm, gentle, and I melted into the kiss without hesitation. My hands found their way to his jacket, gripping it as if it was the only thing keeping me grounded in the reality of the moment.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly, everything I had ever imagined paled in comparison to the way he tasted, the way his lips moved against mine. There was a quiet intensity to it, like he was letting me in on a secret, something meant only for me. His hand moved from my wrist to my jaw, his thumb brushing lightly across my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, needing more.

I let my hands roam, searching for the connection I craved. My fingers slipped under the edge of his jacket. He was so warm, so solid beneath my touch. I shivered as my palm made contact with the firmness of his back, the heat radiating from him almost overwhelming.

He responded with a soft, pleased smile against my mouth, the corners of his lips curling up in a way that told me he was enjoying the effect he had on me. The warmth of his skin under my fingertips seemed to heighten every sensation. 

His smile deepened, and I felt a surge of pleasure course through me. He liked how I reacted to him, how my touch made him feel as if he was the centre of my world. His body pressed closer, the warmth and firmness of him melding with the softness of my touch, making me shiver once more.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his eyes were darker than before, full of something I couldn’t quite name but felt deep in my bones. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, and I felt that connection — stronger than ever, undeniable.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough, like he wasn’t sure if he had made the right move.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. I was still reeling from the kiss, from the fact that it had actually happened, that this wasn’t some dream I would wake up from. All I could do was nod, my fingers still clutching his jacket like I was afraid he might disappear if I let go.

Alex smiled then, a small, knowing smile, like he had just confirmed something for himself. He leaned in again, pressing a quick, soft kiss to my lips, and my heart fluttered. 

“Good then.” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and satisfied.

I stared at him, my mind spinning. The moment I had been dreaming of for so long, the one I had built up in my head until it felt like it could never actually happen — had just happened. He had kissed me. He had kissed me.

And in that moment, the fantasy I had lived in for so long seemed to blend seamlessly into reality. 

I had convinced myself that he was mine, and now, for the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realise it too.

I became more confident, more certain that what I’d felt all along was real. We were connected. 

I convinced myself that the way his smile curved when he saw me was different from the way he smiled at anyone else. That the way his eyes darkened when he talked to me was a sign of something deeper. It was slow, almost imperceptible at first, but day by day, he became more mine. And I became more convinced that I was his.

The other girls — the ones who always crowded the stage, hoping for a glance, a moment of his attention — they didn’t matter anymore. Not to him, and certainly not to me. They didn’t see what I saw. They didn’t know what I knew.

But sometimes, late at night, when the crowds had gone and it was just me sitting alone in my apartment, I wondered. What if it was all still just a fantasy? What if every look, every word, every smile was just something I was building up in my mind? What if he didn’t feel the connection I did?

But then, there were moments that shattered those doubts.

One night, after a particularly soulful set, he came straight to me. He didn’t even pause to greet the others hanging around, waiting for their turn to bask in his attention. He just walked to where I stood, his eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I felt certain. This was real.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.

The world stopped. My breath caught in my throat, and the whisper of doubt that always nagged at the edges of my mind fell silent. I nodded, words escaping me as he took my hand, pulling me through the back entrance and into the cool night.

As we walked, our shoulders brushing, everything felt surreal. I didn’t even care where we were going. All that mattered was that he was here, beside me. That he had chosen me.

We ended up at a quiet bar, tucked away from the rest of the world. Over drinks, the conversation flowed easier than it ever had before. He asked about my life, my interests, his eyes flicking over me with a kind of curiosity that made my skin tingle. And as the night wore on, the way he leaned in closer, the way his fingers brushed against mine, everything confirmed what I had always believed. He was mine. Finally.

We fucked that night.

It felt like the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had dreamed about, fantasised about, until it had become something I thought I would never truly have. But here we were, in the dim light of his apartment, the night wrapping around us like a secret we didn’t want to share with the world.

The air between us was thick with something unspoken, a tension that had been building ever since he took my hand and led me away from the bar. I could still feel the warmth of his palm against mine, even though we were standing inches apart now. His eyes were locked on me, dark and unreadable, and my heart was racing, anticipation and nerves colliding in a way that made my skin hum.

Neither of us said a word at first. There wasn’t a need to. The way he looked at me said enough — the way his gaze roamed over me, like he was memorising every inch, every curve. It was intense, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. This was real. He was real. 

Alex was the first to move. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm before trailing up to my shoulder, then my neck. His touch was gentle but deliberate, like he was taking his time savouring the moment. I leaned into his hand, my eyes fluttering shut as his thumb traced the line of my jaw. 

“You good?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But good didn’t even begin to cover it. I wanted him, had wanted him for so long that it felt like a physical ache. And now, with him standing so close, his breath mingling with mine, I felt like I was on the verge of something big, something life-altering. My fantasies, the ones I had built up in my mind, couldn’t compare to this moment. They had always felt distant, intangible. But this? This was flesh and blood. Heat and skin.

Without another word, he pulled me closer, his lips crashing into mine with a hunger that stole my breath. The kiss was rougher than the last, more urgent, like he couldn’t wait anymore. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melted into the heat of his body, letting the reality of him overwhelm me.

My fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak. I had kissed him before, but this was different. There was no hesitation, no holding back. It was raw, intense, and all-consuming. And I wanted more.

“Alex.” I gasped against his lips, my hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed me back against the wall. “Please.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing with something dark and primal. “Please what?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

“Just...don’t stop.” The words tumbled out before I could think about them, and his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

He didn’t.

Clothes were discarded in a blur of movement, his hands everywhere, rough and demanding as they explored my skin. Every touch sent fire racing through my veins, burning away any doubt or hesitation I had left. I wanted him, needed him, and the way he touched me made it clear that he felt the same. His mouth was on my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, kissing, biting, leaving marks that would linger long after this night was over. Each one felt like a brand, a claim, as if he was marking me as his own.

My head spun with the intensity of it all. It was fast, too fast, and yet, I didn’t want it to slow down. I wanted to lose myself in him, to drown in the feeling of his hands on me, his lips against my skin, his breath hot and heavy in my ear.

When he finally pushed me down onto the bed, I barely had time to catch my breath before he was on top of me, his body pressing me into the mattress. I could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against my thigh, and it sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. 

“This what you want?” he asked, his voice rough and breathless as he hovered above me, his eyes searching mine. 

I nodded, unable to form coherent words. “Yes.”

He smirked, leaning down to kiss me again, slower this time, but no less intense. “Then take it.” he murmured against my lips, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself between my legs. 

And then he was inside me.

I had imagined this moment so many times — how it would feel, how he would look, how he sound sound, how it would change everything. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. The way he filled me, stretched me, the way his body moved against mine with a rhythm that was both familiar and foreign. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

He was rougher than I had imagined, his thrusts hard and fast, his grip on my hips almost bruising. But I didn’t care. I wanted it. I had waited for this, dreamed of this, and now that it was happening, I didn’t want him to stop. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and the sounds he made sent shivers through me.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” he groaned, his forehead pressed against mine as he moved inside me, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Better than I imagined.”

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as I gasped for breath, the pleasure building inside me like a storm, wild and uncontrollable. “Alex,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper, “Please-”

He cut me off with another kiss, his lips devouring mine as he thrust harder, faster, his body relentless in its pursuit of release. I could feel him unravelling, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter between us, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we both fell over the edge.

“Come on.” he growled against my lips, his voice raw with need. “Let go.”

And I did.

The release hit me, crashed over me with a force that left me trembling, my body clenching around him as I came, his name a broken cry on my lips. He followed moments later, his hips jerking against mine as he buried himself deep inside me, his own release tearing through him. 

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, could feel the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, and for the first time, I felt...satisfied. Like I had gotten everything I had ever wanted.

He pulled out of me slowly, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, his arm draped lazily over his forehead. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin in the soft light filtering through the window. The room was quiet, save for the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in a while.” he murmured, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His voice was low, rough around the edges, but filled with an unmistakable satisfaction.

A flicker of pride surged through me at his words. The fact that I had made him feel that way, that I was the one who could leave him this undone, sent a thrill racing down my spine. I propped myself up on one elbow, my eyes tracing the contours of his body —  his chest still heaving slightly, muscles relaxed, his skin flushed and glowing in the afterglow of our time together.

He looked perfect, lying there completely bare, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way I’d only ever dreamed of seeing. His hair was tousled, falling in messy waves across his forehead, and a lazy smile still played on his lips, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, he was just mine. All of him. Every inch of his skin, every beat of his heart. He was laid out before me, not the Alex Turner everyone else saw, but a man, open and real. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of possessiveness, knowing that right here he was mine in a way no one else could claim.

I reached out, my fingertips brushing lightly over his chest, tracing the lines of his ribs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. He let out a soft hum, his eyes opening just enough to catch my gaze.

“What?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Admiring your work?”

I smirked, biting my lip as I continued tracing the path down his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tightened under my fingers. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made my heart skip a beat. His hand found mine, gently pulling it up to his lips, where he pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

He shifted beside me, his arm still resting over his forehead as his body relaxed further into the mattress. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, catching mine, and he gave me a small, almost apologetic smile.

“I get tired after I come.” he said, his voice soft but matter-of-fact, as if it was something he’d said a thousand times before. “I’m probably gonna drift off soon.”

His words hit me harder than they should have. It wasn’t cold or dismissive — it was just him being honest, letting me know what to expect. But still, I felt a twinge in my chest. I had wanted this closeness, wanted to feel like I was part of something real with him. Now, as he told me he’d likely fall asleep, I couldn’t shake the creeping sense of doubt that began to stir. 

I turned my head to look at him again. His eyes were already starting to close, his breathing steadying. He was beautiful, so unguarded in this moment, but it felt like a door quietly closing between us. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all I’d ever get, this fleeting, intimate moment before the reality of who he was and what we were would sink in.

I had gotten what I wanted. I had him. Was that all it was? He looked peaceful, content, like he had just had a good time and that was it. But for me, it was more. It had always been more.

“Alex?” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

He didn’t respond.

I bit my lip, staring at him for a long moment before turning back to the ceiling. 

After that first night, things changed.

I wasn’t standing on the sidelines, hoping for him to notice me anymore. He saw me. He expected me. And when the lights dimmed and the crowds filed out, I was the one he came to. 

It was always the same. After each show, I didn’t have to wait at the bar or linger by the stage door. He knew I was there, knew I was watching him. It felt like the connection between us solidified with every night I spent waiting in the back of the room, watching as he played for the masses but always, somehow, played for me. I had started to feel like I was a part of his routine — part of his world. The whispered doubts that had haunted me began to quiet, though they never fully disappeared. 

He could have anyone, but he chose me. And that thought, that truth, was something I couldn’t quite shake, even when I was with him.

Sometimes I’d catch myself wondering, why me?

Maybe it was because I wanted him so badly. Maybe it was because I made it clear from the start. I watched him, studied him, knew him in ways those other girls didn’t. I’d seen him when the crowd’s cheers faded and the exhaustion settled in, the way his fingers trembled slightly after long nights of playing, how he’d close his eyes and let his head fall back as the world outside slipped away. I knew his habits, his tells, the moments when he craved quiet or when he wanted something more.

Or maybe it was because he needed to be wanted. And I, well, I wanted him more than anyone else did. I had made that clear from the start.

Still, the doubt lingered in the back of my mind. He was Alex Turner. He didn’t have to settle for anyone. He could have anyone in the crowd, any girl who looked at him with starstruck eyes and a racing heart. So why did he keep choosing me?

It was hard to shake the feeling that, despite everything, I was still just one step away from slipping back into the shadows of his life. But each time I thought that, each time the doubt began to creep in, he’d show me otherwise. 

He fucked me often after his shows. It became our thing. I no longer had to pay for tickets or find excuses to hang around backstage. 

“Good set tonight.” I’d say, leaning against the wall as he made his way through the throngs of fans, his eyes locked on me.

“Yeah?” He’d smirk, his voice low and rough from hours of singing. “Glad you liked it.”

And then we’d leave, out the back, away from the crowds and the noise, his hand gripping mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t long before I stopped going back to my own place after those nights. We’d head straight to his, the quiet of his apartment a welcome contrast to the chaos of the venue. And once the door closed behind us, the tension between us would spark to life, like we were picking up right where we left off the last time.

He liked it rough. Hard. Fast. There was no hesitation in the way he touched me, no holding back. His hands on my skin felt like a claim, like he was branding me with every touch, every kiss, every breathless word murmured into my ear as he pressed me against the wall, the bed, whatever surface was closest.

Some nights, it was frantic. He’d push me onto the bed, his fingers already working to pull off my clothes as he muttered something low, something I could barely catch over the rush of blood in my ears. Other nights, he’d take his time, his hands roaming over me slowly, his eyes drinking me in. But no matter how it started, it always ended the same way: his body pressed against mine, his breath hot and heavy as he fucked me, hard and deep, the world outside slipping away until there was nothing but him.

He never asked me to leave afterward. Not anymore. It was understood now. After, we’d lie in the quiet, our bodies tangled together, the hum of the city outside just a distant echo. Sometimes, he’d talk, just little things, nothing heavy. He’d tell me about the next show, the band, his music. Other times, we’d just lie there in silence and I’d watch him sleep.

And each time, as I lay there beside him, my head resting on his chest, I couldn’t help but feel like this was it. This was the life I had dreamed of, the one I had convinced myself was always just out of reach. But now, it was mine. He was mine.

After another show, back at his place, the quiet of the night settled around us like a thick blanket. His guitar was propped against the wall, the remnants of his music lingering in the air. 

We’d slipped out the back, like always, avoiding the stragglers hanging around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man they’d spent the night fantasising about. 

I watched as he sat on the couch, leaning back, eyes closed, exhaustion seeping into his posture.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence, “they all think they have a chance with you.”

His eyes opened, knowing. “Do they?”

I shrugged, sliding onto the couch beside him. “Doesn’t matter. You’re my man.”

He smirked, reaching out to pull me closer. His fingers brushed along my arm, sending sparks through me. “Am I?”

I looked into his eyes. There was something playful in his gaze, a challenge that made my heart race even faster. I nodded, letting my fingers rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my touch.

“Yes.” I said firmly, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “You’re my man.”

He arched an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. His fingers continued to trace light patterns on my arm, making it hard for me to concentrate. “Am I?” he repeated, his tone dripping with teasing uncertainty.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Yes, Alex. You are.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. He didn’t let go of me but continued to playfully challenge me, his voice low and teasing. “How do you know? Maybe I’m just here for the sex.”

I pulled back slightly, trying to maintain my composure. “If that were true, then why are you here, holding me?” I countered, my voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability.

He looked down at me, his expression softening, the playful edge of his smile fading into something warmer. “Fair point.” he admitted, his fingers gently stroking my arm. “But are you sure you want me as your man? What if I’m just a passing phase?”

I met his gaze, my eyes locking onto his with a sincerity that made my heart ache. “I’m sure. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

His hand continued its gentle, distracting path. “And what if I don’t agree with that?”

I lifted my head to look at him, trying to read his eyes. “Then you’d be wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow, his fingers now brushing lightly against my collarbone. “Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

I sighed, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “Because I know you. I see the way you look at me. You can’t fool me.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” I said, my voice resolute. “You’ve made it pretty clear.”

He pretended to think it over, his fingers moving deliberately slow, making it nearly impossible to stay focused. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I might need more convincing.”

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a playful glint of my own. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Tell me again.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re my man, Alex. No one else has this place with me. You’re it.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then his eyes softened. He pulled me fully into his embrace, his arms wrapping around me securely. “I’m your man.” he murmured, his tone more tender now. “You win.”

I smiled, my heart warming at his admission, feeling a rush of satisfaction. He held me close, his fingers gently caressing my back, and I felt a solid, reassuring sense of rightness. He was mine. And he acknowledged it. That connection, that undeniable bond. We didn’t need to say much. The world outside could talk, speculate, wonder, but it was clear as day to us. He was my man, and no one was taking him away.

Not now. Not ever.

As we sat there on the couch, the weight of the night hanging between us, I couldn’t help but let the question that had been gnawing at the back of my mind slip out. I turned to him, my eyes searching his face, tracing the sharp angles of his jawline, the way the faint light cast shadows across his tired features.

“Why me, Alex?” I asked quietly, my voice barely more than a murmur. 

He opened his eyes slowly. “What do you mean?” 

“You could have anyone.” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I felt ridiculous the second I said it, but it was the truth. “I mean, I see the way they all look at you. You know that, right?”

He shifted, sitting up a little straighter, and for a moment, I thought he might brush off the question, make some joke to deflect like he usually did. But then, he leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart pound.

“They don’t know me like you do.” he said softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “They don’t see everything. You…you’re different.”

I scoffed lightly, but his words held me in place. “Different how?”

He leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers trailing absentmindedly across the fabric as he spoke. “You don’t just want me because I’m up there on stage.” he said, “You see the rest of it. The shit that comes with all of this. The stuff no one talks about.” He paused, his eyes flicking down to where our hands were almost touching, like he was considering something. “And you still stick around.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. I had wanted him, yes, but I hadn’t thought about it like that. I had seen him — really seen him — after the lights went down, after the crowd had dispersed. I had seen the exhaustion, the strain, the quiet moments when it was just us. And I’d still been there, always waiting.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I said, my voice steady as I looked him dead in the eye. “You’ll never get rid of me.”

He let out a breath of laughter, the sound low and warm. “I don’t want to.” he murmured, his hand sliding across the back of my neck. 

For a moment, we just sat there in the quiet, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear. I watched him, the way his lips curved just slightly, like he was holding back words he wasn’t ready to say yet.

“Is that it?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Because I stick around?”

He chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch. “It’s more than that.” he said, his voice softer now, his eyes closing for a brief moment as if he was gathering his thoughts. “It’s…I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But when I’m with you…” He opened his eyes again, looking at me with that same intensity that always seemed to unravel me. “It makes me feel good.”

There was something raw in his words, something unguarded that I hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t the untouchable man on stage anymore. He wasn’t the image the world saw. He was just Alex, sitting here with me in the quiet of his apartment.

“I think you just like that I let you take the lead.” I teased, trying to break the tension, a playful smile tugging at my lips, but in the back of my mind there was a lingering concern that it might just be the truth. 

He laughed, his hand tightening slightly on the back of my neck. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, “but you’re forgetting how much you like it, too.”

I bit my lip, feeling the heat rise in my chest as his words washed over me. He was right, of course. He always had that power over me, the ability to pull me in, to make me forget everything else. And right now, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, I knew exactly where this was heading.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know what you’re doing.” I whispered, my voice breathless as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes locked onto mine. “And what am I doing?”

“Making me forget why I asked in the first place.” I shot back, my voice wavering between teasing and serious.

His grin widened, and he leaned in again, his lips hovering over mine, just above, the warmth of his breath mingled with my own, creating a tantalising, intimate closeness. His hand moved to grasp mine, guiding it to his lower abdomen, and then further down. When my fingers brushed against him, I felt the undeniable firmness of his body responding to our closeness. 

“Maybe that’s because it doesn’t matter.” he whispered. — And because your dick is hard — “I’m here. You’re here. That’s all that matters.” 

He noticed the way I reacted, his eyes darkening with something that looked like satisfaction. Sometimes it felt like I was a means for him to feed his ego. “Feel that?” he murmured, his voice thick with the same desire I felt. “That’s all for you.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling around him instinctively, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “I can tell.” I managed, my voice a soft, shaky whisper.

His lips finally brushed against mine, the contact soft but laden with a lingering promise. “Yeah…” he whispered against my mouth. “Just remember, it’s always for you.”

I nodded, my heart racing in tandem with the thrill of the moment, as his hand guided mine back, leaving me with the tangible proof of his desire for me. It was clear now, more than ever. And I melted into him, my body responding to the familiar heat of his touch.

The kiss deepened, his hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me onto his lap as his other hand gripped my thigh. Every touch, every movement, was filled with that same intensity that always set me on fire. And as his lips moved against mine, I couldn’t help but think that maybe he was right.

He pulled back just enough to search my eyes, his breath warm and uneven against my skin. His fingers, still tangled in my hair, tugged gently as his other hand slid higher up my thigh, dangerously close to where I was already aching for him. 

For a moment, the air between us hung heavy with anticipation, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rustle of our breaths. He leaned in again, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, his voice low and full of that familiar roughness that made my heart race.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered, his tone teasing, despite the answer being painfully obvious. 

I bit my lip, nodding, my body already responding to the heat in his words. But it wasn’t enough for him. He tilted his head, pulling back slightly to look at me, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as his hand slid further up my thigh, fingers brushing the sensitive skin between my legs.

“Say it out loud.” he murmured, almost commanding. “Tell me what you want.”

My breath hitched in my throat, the sensation of his fingers hovering so close, but not quite touching, driving me insane. “I want you to fuck me, Alex.” I managed to whisper, my voice trembling with need, pathetically so. 

His eyes darkened at my words, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He let his hand drift higher, his fingers brushing over the thin fabric of my underwear, teasing me just enough to make me shiver.

“Slow?” he asked, his voice low, like he was savouring every word. His eyes were locked on mine, watching every flicker of desire that crossed my face. “Do you want me to fuck you slow?”

I nodded again, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to keep some semblance of control over my own self.

“Yes.” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Slow.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine again, the kiss slower this time. His hand slid under the waistband of my underwear, his fingers finally finding their mark, and I gasped against his lips as he began to move, slow and purposeful, just like he promised.

“My girl…” he murmured against my mouth, his voice a low growl that made my entire body shudder. “I’ll fuck you slow…until you’re begging me for more.”

And just like that, all the teasing, the tension, the careful restraint from earlier disappeared. His fingers moved with agonising precision, drawing out every ounce of pleasure as he watched my every reaction, the darkness in his eyes deepening with every gasp, every soft moan that escaped my lips. He wanted control. And he had it. Completely.

Maybe none of it mattered. Not the doubts, not the questions. Not why he chose me. All that mattered was that he had, and that he kept choosing me, night after night.

And I would keep choosing him, too.

He slid his hands under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I could do nothing but cling to him as my body reacted to the heat radiating from his. He pressed his lips against my ear. “If I’m gonna fuck you slow,” he whispered, his breath hot and teasing, “I want to do it in the bed.”

The words alone were enough to unravel me completely. I felt like I could have died right then and there, and it would’ve been fine — because in that moment, I believed he cared for me. There was nothing I wanted more than to freeze time, to stay wrapped in that sliver of tenderness forever.

He carried me to the bed, setting me down carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. He reached for my clothes, I didn’t resist. He took his time, pulling my shirt over my head, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. His gaze grew more and more perverted as each inch of me was revealed, his hands sliding over my bare shoulders, down my arms, until I was completely exposed to him.

His hands lingered at the waistband of my underwear, his fingers tracing the line of fabric before he peeled it away. He stood up then, his eyes roaming over my body, taking me in. I shivered under his gaze.

“Your turn.” he murmured, filled with a quiet demand. “Take mine off.”

I swallowed, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for his belt, the cool metal buckle contrasting against the heat of his body. My fingers fumbled, but he just watched, patient, a small smirk playing on his lips. I undid the button of his jeans, sliding them down, my hands moving over the hard lines of his legs, the firm muscle beneath the fabric. 

When I finally peeled his shirt off, revealing the bare expanse of his chest, I felt my breath hitch again. His body was perfect and I never got over that despite how many times I’d seen it — his skin warm and smooth, muscles defined but not overwhelming, a lean strength that radiated through every inch of him. The soft light cast shadows over his toned abdomen and it made him look almost unreal. His skin was flushed, his body responding to me as much as mine responded to him. 

I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the warmth, the way his heart beat steadily beneath my fingertips. He let me explore him, watching with a mix of intensity and amusement as I touched him, drinking in the feel of his bare skin. His breath hitched too when my hands trailed lower, grazing over the line of his hips, and a deep sound rumbled from his chest.

“You obsessed with me?” he asked, his words dripping with arrogance, like he already knew the answer. 

I didn’t even try to hide it. How could I? He was right. Every part of me was drawn to him — had been for longer than I cared to admit now. The way he looked, the way he touched me, how he made me feel like I was the only one in his orbit. 

I swallowed hard, not breaking eye contact, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes.”

The admission hung in the air, and I saw something flicker in his eyes — satisfaction. His smirk softened into something more dangerous, more possessive, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. 

“That’s why you’re here.”  he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. And as his hands roamed over my body again, I knew I’d let him do whatever he wanted. 

Because, in truth, I was obsessed with him.

He didn’t rush. With the same deliberate slowness that drove me wild, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, sliding them down his hips. Every inch of him revealed sent my heart racing. His body was a masterpiece of lean muscle and sharp lines, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away as his underwear slipped lower and lower, finally pooling at his feet.

He bunched the fabric in his hand, not breaking eye contact for a second. Slowly, he brought it up to my face, the scent of him — musky, rich, intoxicating — hitting me all at once. It filled my senses, wrapping around me like a drug, sinking into every corner of my mind. I inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of his skin still clinging to the fabric, the smell filling me all the way to the back of my head. I felt dizzy, high on it. I couldn’t get enough. 

He watched me closely. “Breathe me in.” he whispered, his voice commanding. “You’re addicted to me, aren’t you?”

I didn’t need to answer. He knew. I just nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Every part of me was drawn to him, to the heat radiating off his bare skin, to the intoxicating scent that made my head spin. I wanted him — needed him — in a way that felt almost primal. And he knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing, how every move, every word, made me want him more.

He watched me as I breathed him in, his eyes blooming with a satisfaction that rippled through the air. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. 

He tossed the underwear aside, and in the momentary silence, the room seemed to close in around us, leaving just him — his scent, his touch, the weight of his gaze on me. 

He reached for me, his fingers tracing the edge of my jaw before tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. “Say you’re obsessed with me.” he murmured, his lips barely an inch from mine. 

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing under his touch. “I’m obsessed with you.” I whispered, feeling the weight of my own words wrap around me like a confession. 

He smiled, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip before he kissed me again — consuming. His lips were soft but commanding. He knew exactly how to drive me to the edge without even trying.

“I fucking love it.” his smile widened into a grin, sharp and dangerous, and he let out a low, throaty laugh that sent a pulse straight through me. There was something wild in the way he said it, like he was feeding off the power he had over me, and it made my heart pound even harder. 

He pushed me back on the bed, his hands firm but unhurried as they guided me down. The mattress dipped beneath me, and I barely had time to catch my breath before he was climbing over me, his body hovering above mine, all muscle and heat, close but not close enough to touch. His knees pressed into the mattress on either side of my hips, and he looked down at me like I was something he was about to devour.

His hands found my wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against the bed as he lowered himself, his lips brushing over my neck, my collarbone, every inch of exposed skin. My body arched up toward him, desperate for more contact, for the overwhelming sensation of him against me.

“I fucking love how obsessed you are.” he whispered against my skin, his voice rough, like he could barely control himself. His teeth grazed my neck, and I gasped, feeling the flare burn even hotter between us. “Makes me want to fuck you harder every time.”

The weight of him, the sound of his voice, the way his hands held me down — it all mixed together in a haze of want that left me dizzy and breathless, completely at his mercy.

His body pressed closer, skin against skin, and I could feel every inch of him. He shifted above me, adjusting himself, and I felt the tip of him at my entrance. There was a pause. It was almost suffocating. His eyes locked on mine, watching for every flicker of emotion that crossed my face.

He sank into me slowly. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, his lips parting slightly, and I could see the tension through his body as he fought to keep control, to hold back. His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed in concentration. Every inch of him filled me, inch by agonising inch. 

A low groan escaped his lips, and his head dipped down, his forehead pressing against mine as he buried himself deeper. 

“Fuck.” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with pleasure as he finally settled inside me, fully. His eyes opened, locking onto mine again, his pupils blown wide. He looked wrecked, but in control, like he was balancing on the edge of losing himself, but he wouldn’t — not yet.

And then he started to move. Slow. Just like he promised. 

Each thrust was measured, intentional, his hips rolling with a precision that drove me wild. His gaze never left mine, watching me with a kind of intensity that made me feel like I was the only thing that existed for him in that moment. It was different from anything before. There was something almost tender in the way he moved, something I hadn’t expected. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin as he continued to fuck me.

With each slow thrust, I felt myself slipping deeper into something I hadn’t prepared for. Falling for him. Falling into a kind of love that was dangerous, consuming. It was the kind of love that blurred the lines between obsession and devotion, between wanting and needing. And as he moved inside me, I could almost pretend — pretend that this wasn’t just sex, that it wasn’t just a game of control and power. 

I could almost believe he was making love to me.

His lips hovered over mine, close but not quite touching, and his breath ghosted over my skin as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good.” The way he said it — like I was the only one who could make him feel like this — made my heart clench painfully in my chest.

I was his in every sense of the word. 

We lay tangled in the sheets, bodies still warm from the night before. It was one of those rare moments where neither of us had anywhere to be — no shows, no crowds, no pretending. Just the two of us, in the quiet of his room. 

He was on his back, one arm draped lazily behind his head, the other resting on my hip, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on my skin. I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly with each breath. For once, he seemed relaxed, like the weight he carried around had slipped off for a moment. It felt...peaceful.

“You awake?” I asked softly, my voice cutting through the stillness.

He turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small, sleepy smile. “Barely,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded but not quite ready to close again, “but yeah.”

I shifted closer, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart. “You can’t fall back asleep this time, can you?”

He chuckled, a soft rumble vibrating through his chest. “Don’t want to.” he admitted, his hand sliding up my back, fingers brushing through my hair. “If I sleep now, I’ll be up all night. And that’s worse.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” I said, a little softer, like I was letting the thought slip out without meaning to.

“Yeah.” he muttered, his thumb idly tracing a path on my shoulder. “Comes with the territory, I guess. But right now…” He trailed off, shifting slightly so he could look at me. “Right now, I’d rather stay awake with you.”

It was strange, having this moment with him in the daylight. Everything always felt so fleeting with us, like it could be gone in a second. But right now, with no darkness to retreat into, it felt...different. Like we were just two people lying in bed because we wanted to. 

“You like this?” I asked quietly, almost unsure. “Just...being together.”

His fingers paused for a moment, and I could feel him thinking. “Yeah,” he said after a beat, “I do.”

“I do too.” I smiled against his skin, letting my eyes close for a second. It was more than I usually got from him. 

But then, after a long silence, he spoke again, his voice different this time — quieter, almost hesitant. 

“I don’t think I can love you.” he said, the words hanging in the air between us, heavy and almost feeling final.

My breath hitched in my throat, but I didn’t pull away. I stayed there, my head on his chest, listening to his heart. It hurt. God, it hurt more than I wanted to admit. But somehow, I wasn’t surprised. I had always known, deep down, that this was how it would be. He wasn’t the type to give all of himself to just anyone. Anyone like me. Not fully.

“I know.” I whispered back, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to act like I was okay with it. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, not really. But I had told myself for so long that just being with him was enough, that I could live with the scraps of affection he gave me. And maybe I could. Probably. I didn’t need him to love me back. Maybe just being here, in his bed, feeling his arms around me, could be enough. 

“I don’t mean to hurt you.” he added, his voice almost regretful. “But...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love you the way you want me to.”

I closed my eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath, letting his words sink in. It was like a knife twisting in my chest, but I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him know how much I wanted more, how much I had hoped for something beyond just this.

“You don’t have to.” I said softly, my fingers tracing idle circles on his skin. “I’m here. That’s enough.”

He was quiet for a long time after that. 

Just when I thought he wouldn’t say anything else, he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper.

“Sometimes...I feel like I want to love someone.” he admitted. “Like, really love someone. Not just be loved.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I saw something vulnerable there, something deeper than the guarded expression he usually wore. He was letting me in, even if just a little bit.

“But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to love me that way.” I finished for him. 

He nodded slightly, his eyes soft enough that I couldn’t feel hurt by it. “Yeah.” he said. “I don’t think I can.”

Despite the pain twisting in my chest, I still wanted him. 

Even if he couldn’t love me the way I wanted, I still wanted to be here, in this moment, with him.

Because I loved him like nobody else could.

a/n: It’s based on the song with the same title (from Luvcat). Well, what I came up from the song and excluding the whole murder part of it. It’s a lot of yapping. I quite like it. Also, I see him as a solo lounge singer here.

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[vmbrq]

how do u think some of the scream guys react to a more bimbo esque s/o….. cus i already KNOWWWW some of them *cough cough* charlie *cough cough* WOULD FW IT, LIKE IDKK AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON ETHAN ?? obsessed loser boy x oblivious girly bimbo ??? SOOOO 🤭🤭 and i just know they’re silly little perverts too so they would get all squirmy just from her accidentally flashing them as she bends down to pick up like a flower out of the grass or smth😭😭 IDK I JUST THINK ITS CUTEEE 🤭

(also omg idk if u do anons or anything but like …… if u do …. can i be 🩷 PLEASEEEE if not thats okay😁☝️ ANYWAYS OKAY BYEEE)

yes, i do anons !! so you certainly can <3

AND IT IS CUTE :( ethan would be STRESSED LMAOO practically glued to your side or standing behind you to make sure you don't accidentally flash anyone. he would also be one of the first to volunteer to fix the straps on your sandals or tie your sneakers for the same reason. he also takes advantage of any opportunity to tutor you, even if most of your sessions end up with you in his lap with your lips on his. he's such a sucker for you, too, so weak to the way you whine his name or gaze up at him, all sweet and adoring, and ask him for a kiss. he could be holding a cardboard box he can barely see over, and he'll still be awkwardly angling his body and bending forward to give you a quick peck on the lips.

charlie would be so fond of just observing you, whether it's admiring your side profile while you touch up your makeup or watching how your animated expressions reflect your thoughts as you try to work through homework on your own. plus, he knows that half the time, you have zero clue what he's talking about when he rambles on about the specifics of media, but he adores the effort you put into trying to understand. and even if you've given up on trying, you still sit there with a smile and give him your full attention, bc you just like hearing him talk.

both of them would be obsessed with the way you have no concept of personal space when it comes to them, your brain consisting of nothing but tv static as you get right in their face or press up close to them. you're shameless with your affection, and you never think twice about how out-of-place they appear at your side.

mickey and billy would adore how easy you are to mold into their perfect, unwitting accomplice, taking all of their explanations in stride and rarely ever questioning them. there's a certain freedom that your presence allows, since they know that you don't even blink or think twice about the thin layers of blood embedded beneath their fingernails or that strange scent that clings to their clothes when they kiss or hold you. oh, they accidentally cut themselves? oh, that smell is just the gasoline from their car? okay. after all, all you need is to trust them and let them do the thinking. all you have to do is sit on their laps and look pretty for them.

mentions of smut under the cut ; minors dni

all of the sex jokes when they're around end up flying right over your head. you're so naive, so sweet, so easy to manipulate until you're bouncing on their cock and creaming a pretty, white ring at the base because it's "the best way to get rid of your stomachache." they stick out like a sore thumb against the decor of your room, but sometimes, when you've got their head resting on your chest with your fingers combing idly through their hair, or when they're sprawled on your bed lying about not peeking through their fingers while you lotion up your bare body and reflexively reach for the shirt they lent you three weeks ago, they feel as though they fit right in.