#so ​i could hold your hand but keep you at arm’s length

[wendysimp]

Secrets Out! Ep.2 (Leaked?)

Karina X Male Reader (Slight appearance by Aespa)

Tags: TitFucking, Ball sucking, Deepthroat, Spitting, Teasing, Videotaping, Quickie

~~ Be Sure to read Episode 1 here!

(3rd Person POV)

~ In the girls locker room

“You’re lying. That guy is a total loser.”

“Yeah, and a dick that big? It just doesn’t sound real.”

“I-I think he’s really cute.”

“Of course you think that Ning. But I’m serious! He just fucked Seulgi unnie and Wendy unnie in the backseat of the car!”

“His own step sister?!” The three of the girls were in complete shock with what they just heard.

A moment earlier before their chat, Karina drags her friends into the locker room to tell them about what she had just discovered in the parking lot. You, Seulgi and your own step sister Wendy having a threesome in the backseat.

“Yes! His own step sister!” Karina pulls out her phone. “Here look at this!”

She taps the play button, letting the video play for the girls to watch. Their eyes widened as they watch Wendy riding your cock while Seulgi rides your face.

“H-He’s actually fucking her.” Giselle spoke.

“Seulgi unnie is riding his face.” Winter followed up.

“Y/n’s… big cock.” Ning bites her lip making the girls look at her.

“Ning!” They all say, but she didn’t care and grabs the phone, skipping ahead of the video till it showed Wendy and Seulgi giving you a sloppy blowjob while recording themselves.

“Look! S-Such a big… fat… cock.” They all look back at the video, this time they put their focus on your dick.

The length, the thickness. They start to feel hungry. Hungry for your cock as they keep on watching. Karina starts to feel her panties getting soaked once again.

“F-Fuck! Again?” She bites her lip and looks down. The girls look at her and laugh.

“You’re getting wet huh?” Giselle teased.

“N-no! Shut up!” She defended herself but couldn’t hold back the blush.

“It’s okay if you are,” Winter chuckles softly. “I am too, I can’t lie.”

“Eww!” Giselle scoffed. “Let’s head back to class.” She grabs her bag as Winter and NingNing follow.

“I’ll be with you guys in a bit… I need to find Y/n and have a taste of him myself.” Karina whispered the last part to herself. They nodded and head to class.

Meanwhile, Karina was searching through the halls and all over the school, trying not to get caught to look for you but had no luck.

“Where could he be?” She thinks but then had an idea of where you could be. “Got it! The library! That nerd usually goes there at this time to do work.”

She quickly makes her way to the library, searching every section then finally spots you in the corner. She smirks wildly, knowing this was gonna be a perfect time. She walks up to you, taps your shoulder which makes you slowly turn your head.

“Hey nerd.” She says trying not to draw attention with the people around by staying as quiet as possible.

You sighed. “What do you want Karina? I’m busy doing my work.”

She sits next to you. “Well that can wait. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Get it over with already. I don’t like to be disturbed.” You put your attention back to your school work.

“Geez, calm down nerd. Look, I’m not gonna waste time here so let me just ask you something.” She looks at you. Thoughts of the video running through her mind.

“I’m not gonna do your homework for you.”

“It’s not about that idiot! It’s about something else.” She hits your arm.

“First off, ouch! And second, what could you possibly need from me?” You were curious. She would usually approach you about doing her homework or try to annoy you.

“It’s just a simple request.” She smirked which kinda creeped you out a little.

“Okay? What’s up?” You asked while she leans closer, your heart starts pounding. Is she about to kiss you?

“Can I maybe see… your cock?” She whispered. You froze up after her sudden request, the pen in your hand drops straight down to the floor.

“M-My what now?” You gulped. Did you hear correctly?

“Come on Y/n, you heard me.” She whispered more in a seductive tone while placing a hand on your thigh. She’s crazy you thought to yourself.

“N-No, are you crazy! I’m not showing you my stuff, that shit is weird!” You say trying not to be so loud.

“Oh that’s weird?” She smirks and takes her phone out. “Is it more weird that you fuck your own step sister.” She shows the video of you and your stomach drops.

“H-How did you get… delete that!” You try to take her phone but you were too slow. She giggled and teased you some more.

“Nope! You either show me your cock… or I will leak this video out and people will see how weird YOU really are.” She threatened.

This is fucked! You couldn’t figure out what to do. You can’t have that video getting leaked!

“Okay fine.” Those words make Karina’s smirk grow even bigger. This girl is crazy! I mean… she’s kinda hot but that’s not the point.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” She teased you more.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with.” You get up, looking around, making sure no one’s around. “We gotta be quiet and be careful.” You whispered.

You undo your belt while Karina watches, biting her lip as she couldn’t wait for the grand reveal. You bring your hands down to the waistband of your pants, then slowly pull them down until…

*Slap*

Your dick sprung out, landing right on her face. She gasped at the size of your cock as it rests across her face.

“Oh… m-my… fucking… god.” You can feel her breath just between your balls and under your shaft sending shivers down your spine.

The scene was kinda hot. Actually, really hot! She grabs onto your dick, slowly stroking it while she was still amazed by the length and the feel.

“I-I thought you just wanted to see only.” You groan as you grip the table.

“You like this don’t you?” She completely ignored your words.

“Y-Yes.” You didn’t want to give in. But man it was so damn hard.

“I can see why even your step sister would fuck you. She’s very lucky I should say.” She giggled as she keeps stroking you before planting a kiss on your tip which was enough to make your knees weak.

“F-Fuck Karina!” You moan quietly, leaning your head back.”

Without any warning, she puts your cock into her mouth. Her soft moans vibrate around your shaft while your body tenses up. She takes you inch by inch trying to get use to your size.

“Mmm… so… big.” She slurped then pulls away. She spits onto your cock and strokes you making sure you’re completely soaked. “You like that nerd?”

At this point you couldn’t take it. You tangled your fingers in her hair and push her back down on your cock, making her bob up and down your wet cock.

“Just shut up and keep sucking bitch.” You groan as you make her deepthroat your dick, causing her to gag a little.

Instead of resisting, she let you do it. It was almost like she was allowing you to do that. Her saliva mixed with your pre cum drip down towards your balls. You pull her off your dick as you griped onto her hair.

“You fucking nerd,” She tries to catch her breath as she looks up at you. “Making me choke on your big, fat cock.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You smirked as you smack your dick against her cheeks.

“I didn’t like it… I fucking loved it!” She sticks her tongue out and grabs your hard shaft to slap your tip onto it.

You groan out in pleasure as you watch her go down and suck on your balls while your cock is resting across her face.

“F-Fuck yes suck those balls.” Your eyes trail down and you bite your lip.

She pulls away. “Looking at my tits huh?” She looks down then back up at you. “You fucking perv. You think about my tits don’t you?”

“I would be lying if I said no.” Karina rolled her eyes.

“Mind telling me what you think about perv?” Her hands continue to stroke you.

“What your tits feel like in between my dick.” You grip her hair as she places more kisses all over your dick.

Karina was satisfied with your answer, and it only made her feel hotter. She takes her hands off your cock and moves back a little, taking off her hoodie.

“It’s only fair I show you my tits.” She pulls her pink crop top off, dropping it on the floor.

You look as your jaw drops. Her cleavage on display as her bra holds her big breasts together. Every little movement she makes, they bounce and jiggle around. You felt like you were being hypnotised.

Karina laughs as you stare for what felt like hours. “Look at you. You wanna see these tits huh?” She teased playing with the straps of her bra.

“Fuck yes.” You say almost instantly.

She takes off her bra, taking her time so she can tease and make you want more. Her big, soft tits are finally out, waiting to feel your touch.

(Y/n’s POV)

I lick my lips, reaching my hands over as I get a good grip on Karina’s tits. So fucking soft, so fucking big. She moans softly as she feels my touch.

“You like them?” She smirked, looking up at me.

“They’re amazing.” She smiles more at my answer while I keep playing with her melons. You then pull her onto your lap as you wanted to get a closer look.

“Ohh look at you,” She giggled. “Addicted already?” She teased.

“Maybe.” You dive in, rubbing your face in between her tits as she squirmed a little while holding you close.

I keep playing with her tits until she pushed me back against the chair, getting off my lap and onto her knees. She grabs onto my shaft and slaps the head against her tits.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She looks into your eyes, turning you on with the way she addressed me.

It’s funny how Karina went from being a bitch towards me, to wanting more of my cock and calling me daddy. It just doesn’t seem real but I’m not complaining.

“I love it baby.” I grinned.

I can tell when I called her that it turned her on as she puts me between her tits and lets her spit drip down and onto my tip. She tightens the grip on my dick with her huge jugs, moving up and down slowly.

I moan softly. “Oh fuck, Karina! Your tits feel so fucking good!”

“I’m glad you like them daddy.” She winked.

I watch as my cock pops in and out between her tits before Karina sticks her tongue out, licking my tip every time she was close enough to lick it.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum Karina!” I groan out.

“Cum for me daddy! Cum all over my tits.” She bites her lip as she was in desperate need of my cream.

She moves faster, she grips tighter while I grip the chair as I feel the sensation from her tits.

“I’m c-close baby.” I lean my head back.

I felt her reach for something and I look down as I see her phone in her hand.

“Would you mind recording? I wanna send this to my girls.” She asked with an innocent yet naughty smile.

“D-Don’t they hate me?” I grunt.

“After I send them the video, they won’t.” She hands me the phone. “Come on, please?”

Was it a good idea? What about the video she has of me, Wendy and Seulgi? I’m sure she can keep it a secret right? Ah fuck it!

“Fine.” I take the phone and start to record her cupping her tits together.

“Thank you daddy.” She smirks and moans sexily then shortly looks into the camera after waving a little. “Hey girls! His dick is so much bigger in person than on video.” She spits down on my cock again.

Did she… show them the video? Oh god. Let’s just hope nothing spreads around. I gotta be careful.

“Ahh fuck! Keep moving those big tits.” I groan.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She breathed, moving more seductively.

“I love it baby. Keep going, you’re doing amazing.” I stroke her cheek. I guess Karina loves the way I praise her by the way she looked at me with a grin.

“I want your cream daddy!” She moves faster and faster. I was getting close, I tried to keep the phone as steady as I could but it was a little difficult.

“Y-You want it? Fucking take it!” You groan trying to stay as quiet as possible. The sound of her melons slapping against me.

I shoot my first load, making a mess all over her tits.

“O-Oh fuck! So much daddy! I-I… oh my!” Another load right across her cheek and around her mouth. “Fuck! This is the best load ever!” She smiles, gathering some of my cum from her tits before seductively sucking her fingers.

“You like the taste of daddy’s cum baby?” I smirked as I try to catch my breath. This view of Karina was fucking amazing to see.

“You taste so good daddy. I might want more.” She winks at you then looks at the camera. “Sorry girls, maybe I’ll invite you next time.” She wanted to tease them. She blows a kiss then grabs her phone.

“Soo, there’s a next time?” I bite your lip.

“Maybe.” She looks at me and grins again. She cleans herself up with some wipes she had in her bag before cleaning my cock with her mouth. “God you taste so good Y/n.” She kisses your tip.

I moan softly and smile and the both of us fix ourselves up, putting back our clothes that we had taken off.

“You’re not gonna leak the video right?” I asked.

“Mmm…” my heart was pounding. I can’t have this video get leaked. If my parents see it, they will flip out. Especially my mom! “I won’t.”

You let out a sigh. “Thank you.” I tell her and she smiles while sending the video to her friends. “You single?” You push your luck.

“No Y/n!” She glares at me. “You might have a chance though.” She moves close to me.

“Oh I’m gonna make you mine, just wait and see.” I pull her close. Both of our faces inches away.

“I like your confidence Y/n.” She looks into my eyes.

“Will you let me kiss you?” I whispered then see her face as she blushed.

“I don’t know try it.” She challenged. I lean in and kiss her deeply and passionately as I held her hips. She returned the passion back and moves her hand behind my head.

We pull away, out of breath as we were smiling like idiots. She’s really a whole fucking package.

“I guess I’ll see you around nerd.” She giggled and bites her lip softly.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Still calling me that huh? What happened to daddy?” I teased and she blushed, hitting my arm. “I’m kidding, I’ll see you around Karina.”

We both exchanged numbers and we both go our separate ways. Man I really am a lucky guy. Little did I know, a little misclick would cause some little problems in the future.

(3rd Person POV)

*Ding*

A girl takes out her phone during class, turning it on without alerting the teacher. She opens the link as it takes her to a video that shouldn’t be seen. She gasps quietly.

“W-What the fuck?! Is that Y/n?!”

End Of Ep.2

To be continued!

A little short but I’ll try to make them a bit longer. Hope you guys enjoyed this one. You guys can also help with this series by suggesting ideas and idols you want to see, so be free to send me a dm or inbox me!☺️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Vows 1

Warnings: blood, violence, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: Your wedding day is crashed by an unexpected guest.

Character: Kraven the Hunter

This is part of my wedding drabbles but will lead to other fun ideas.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You sisters fuss with your veil. You’re impatient. You’ve been all and dreading for longer. You are to walk the same plank your mother walked to your father. The promise made by another that you must keep. 

Important men toy with insignificant women. They move them like pieces on the board. For their wealth, for their legacies, for their most basic needs. For those who proclaim power, they hold little over a broom or even a brush. 

You have no illusions. You understand what is expected. You will do what you must and hope to find a sliver of content. Even just a corner to hid when you need. 

“Vlad is not hideous,” your mother mutters for the dozenth time. She’s still trying to coax you as if you ever had a say. 

“I hear his father is cruel,” your sister Myra tuts. 

“Any man in his position must have that reputation,” your mother insists. “To men, but we cannot say for how he treats his wife. Or his son. Have faith, have faith.” 

Cruelty is a scale. A word against a stike, a look against a slap. Yes, there could always be worse. They could always do more. 

“There will be no need for cruelty if you are dutiful. If you are the kind-hearted daughter I raised,” she comes to you as you turn, away from the tugs and tweaks of your sisters’ obsessive hands. 

“I hope he isn’t,” Salima says and squeezes your hand. 

You reach for your veil. It will be easier to hide. You cannot muster an ounce of happiness. You are not a joyful bride, just the promised one. 

Before you can pulls the layers forward, there is a startling boom. It shakes the house and your sisters cry out shrilly. Your mother hollers for them to calm and storms to the window. You follow and peer over her shoulder. The gates are consumed in smoke, black and twisting like a crow’s talons. 

“What is this?” She hisses under her breath. “Where is your father? Ozzy cannot do this.” 

“Ozzy?” Mira whines. That is to be your father-in-law. Why should he act against your family when this wedding is to join them? 

“It cannot be,” Salima argues. “I saw him earlier. He is here.” 

“That makes no difference--” 

There’s crashing through the halls. The curtailed screams and thrashing of metal, wood, and bodies. Unseen carnage making its way through the house, barreling up the stairs, bouncing against the plaster. 

“We must go,” your mother grabs you and your sisters follow her to the door. She sweeps out, dragging you away from the calamity as it gets closer and closer. Her grip is iron, her steps faster and faster. 

“Mother,” you murmur. 

“Hush and come. There is a way your father built.” 

She takes you around the corner as another man yelps in agony. What is happening? Why? You clack on your heels, your sisters treading on your skirts. You reach back with your free arm and they latch on. Your fear swells to tremours. 

“In,” your mother opens a door concealed by the body length mirror between standing vases. “Go and do not stop.” 

She shoves you through, your sisters after you. You turn to protest, “mother, you can c--” 

She slams the door and she is gone. Her footsteps go as you and your sisters search for a catch. There is no mechanism on that side. The uproar continues, louder and louder. 

“We have to go,” Myra insists. “We cannot...” 

You gulp as your lip quivers. In the dark, you silently exchange unseeing glances. You turn and continues forward, descending the twisting staircase, the walls so narrow that you must take them single file. 

You reach the bottom and follow the tunnel on and on until you hit a door. You feel along the edges and find a latch. You twist it back. It takes all three of your bodies to push the door out. You stumble onto the grass and your dress is stand by the mud as you land on your knees. 

You look back as you sisters sprawl next to you. The house is away from you, far above, as you’re beyond the trees outside the walls. By the river that flows through the ravine. 

Myra rises first, then Salima. You struggle amidst the layers. They help you up and you run arm in arm. You follow the river south, away from your father’s home. You must find Edgar. He will know what to do. 

There’s a long crack and the snap of a twig. You stagger back as a shadow ripples in the air and you and your sisters watch the branch fall before you, blocking your path. You cling to them as a figure lands on his feet and crunches down the bark until the whole thing snaps. 

The man’s eyes are as yellow as an animal’s. His hairline and nose are smeared in blood, his hair thick with it, curling at his chin. He tilts his head with a wolfish curl of his lip. He steps off the branch as his tongue pokes out under his teeth. 

Your sisters whimper. You heave and bring them close. “Please,” you plead. 

The man comes closer and closer. It cannot just be him. He cannot have done this alone. You look around, expecting others to appear. They do not. 

“Please, please, we are only women,” Myra quivers. 

He prowls forward as he ignores her plea. His eyes are on you. She moves to stop him and he flings her aside. Samira snivels, “please, don’t--” He shoves her to the ground and stops before you. He looks you up and down. 

“It is your wedding day, yes?” He smirks as his eyes blaze. “Who am I to disappoint the bride?”  

He offers his hand. You look down at it, the blood along the lines in his palm, the callouses. You peek down at your sisters. He could do worse to them. And to you. 

You put your hand in his, “after all, no groom could be disappointed in you.” 

[imloyaltoscoups]

silver lining | jeon wonwoo

You barge into the living room, your eyes locking onto Wonwoo sitting comfortably on the couch, glasses perched on his nose. Without a word, you plopped down beside him, grinning mischievously.

“Wonwooo, look! Look!” you chirped, sticking out your tongue.

His gaze lazily shifted toward you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took in the glint of the tongue piercing. Slowly, he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You disappeared for two fucking months,” he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance. “And this is what you come back with?”

“Tehee~” you giggled, playing with the piercing by swirling it around your teeth.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, clearly unimpressed. He reached out, squishing your cheeks with both hands, forcing your lips into a pout.

“This was the big surprise you wouldn’t shut up about?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, a mix of irritation and something... else. His thumb brushed against your jawline, and his tone turned low and velvety. “You ghosted me for months. For this? For a fucking metal?”

“Mmmph!” You mumbled through his hold, your cheeks still squished. You managed to get out, “It needed time to heal!” You demonstrated by swirling the piercing again, the faint clicking sound audible.

Wonwoo’s eye twitched. “That’s your excuse?” His annoyance hadn’t faded, and suddenly, he leaned forward. “Let me see how healed it is, then.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours, his movements firm and demanding. You gasped, startled, but he took full advantage, slipping his tongue past your lips. The sensation of him toying with the piercing sent jolts through you, leaving you breathless and pliant.

Your arms went slack as he deepened the kiss, his lips tugging slightly at yours before pulling back just enough to speak.

“Still dazed, huh?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lips, now slightly swollen. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he added, “Let’s test this thing out properly. You know what to do.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sultry suggestion making your already-jelly legs turn to mush.

Wonwoo’s intense gaze stayed locked on yours, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk. His hands moved deliberately, trailing down to the buckle of his belt, the soft metallic clink echoing in the otherwise quiet room. You wet your lips waiting for his next move.

“You’ve had your fun showing it off,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Now, let’s see if it’s as useful as you’ve been bragging.”

Your breath hitched as you watched his fingers expertly undo the buckle, sliding the leather strap free with a deliberate slowness that made your stomach flutter.

“Wonu…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled darkly, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear. “What?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re the one who disappeared on me, showing up with that little surprise. Shouldn’t I get to enjoy it properly?”

You swallowed hard, unable to respond, your cheeks burning as you bit your lip.

He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he took in your expression, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, sliding the belt free and tossing it aside. His fingers moved to the button of his jeans, popping it open effortlessly.

Your eyes darted to his hands, then back to his face. His expression was calm, but the smoldering intensity in his eyes told you he was anything but...

“Unless you’re going to keep me waiting again,” he said, raising an eyebrow. The playful taunt in his tone sent shivers down your spine. “And we both know you’re not very good at that.”

His words snapped you out of your daze, and you bit your lip, you settle yourself in between his legs. You felt your throat go dry as Wonwoo’s already hard length sprang free, standing tall and proud before you. Your gaze flickered up to his face, his hooded eyes burning with anticipation and the faintest smirk curling on his lips.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. “Show me what you’ve been hiding this whole time.”

You licked your lips, your tongue flicking out just enough for the piercing to glint under the dim light. Wonwoo’s eyes darkened at the sight, his jaw clenching slightly.

Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips parting to tease his tip with the piercing first. The cool sensation of the metal made him hiss, his head tilting back slightly.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his hand instinctively tangling in your hair, guiding you as you began to swirl your tongue around him.

You took your time, letting the piercing drag along the sensitive underside of his shaft, drawing low groans from him as his grip on your hair tightened. Each movement of your tongue was deliberate, adding pressure and flicks in just the right places to make him twitch.

“That… tongue of yours,” Wonwoo gritted out, his voice strained yet dripping with approval. “You really know how to use it, don’t you?”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration making him curse under his breath. As you took him deeper, your piercing brushed against his most sensitive spots, leaving him gripping the couch tightly with his free hand.

“God, you’re—ah—so fucking good at this,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth. You kept your rhythm steady, your eyes glancing up to watch him lose his composure, his chest heaving and his lips parted as soft curses tumbled from them.

“Keep going,” he rasped, his voice laced with desperation. “Don’t stop…”

You obliged, swirling your tongue and letting the piercing glide over him until his hips stuttered and his breathing grew ragged.

You suddenly pulled back for a moment, letting your lips leave his shaft with a soft pop. Wonwoo groaned at the loss of contact but didn’t have to wait long as you tilted your head lower, your warm breath grazing his sensitive skin.

His eyes widened slightly, and he cursed softly under his breath when your mouth found its way to his balls. You gently sucked one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while your piercing added an unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hissed, his hand tightening in your hair as he let his head fall back against the couch. “You’re gonna fucking kill me…”

His reaction spurred you on, your tongue lapping at him teasingly before you moved to give the same attention to the other while your hand continued to stroke his slick, throbbing cock. His thighs twitched slightly under your touch, and the deep groans you pulled from him sent heat coursing through your body.

After lavishing him with attention, you moved back to his cock, taking him into your mouth once more. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, the combination of suction, your tongue, and that piercing driving him wild.

“Fuck—just like that,” he groaned, his voice strained as his hips bucked slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth. “I’m close…”

You didn’t slow down, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself as you took him deeper, your tongue working him in all the right ways. The sound of his groans grew louder, more desperate, until finally, his grip on your hair tightened, and his body tensed.

With a deep, guttural moan, he came, his release hot and messy as it spilled into your mouth and onto your face and clothes. You pulled back slightly, gasping softly as you felt the warm stickiness on your skin.

Wonwoo opened his eyes, his chest heaving as he looked down at the sight before him. You, with your lips swollen, his release dripping from your chin, and your clothes slightly stained, had him groaning again.

“God, look at you,” he muttered, his voice still thick with desire, a smirk tugging at his lip as he swipe his thumb across your chin to gather a stray drop before bringing it to your lips. “You’re a fucking mess.”

You smirked, licking his thumb clean, your tongue flicking out with a playful glint of your piercing. “Well, you’re the one who made me this way,” you teased, sticking your tongue out to show off the piercing once more.

Wonwoo chuckled breathlessly, leaning back on the couch, his gaze never leaving you. “Remind me to thank whoever convinced you to get that piercing,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

....... ≿━━━༺WONWOO༻━━━≾ .......

[echo-riot]

jealous ambessa x gf reader. ambessa treats reader rude & cold because of jealousy and the reader doesn't understand why and gets sad. thanks :3

✞⛧ The Storm Beneath (Ambessa X Reader) ✞⛧

Warnings: Emotional tension and miscommunication, Angst with a comforting resolution.

Ambessa Medarda was a woman of great composure. A Noxian General, a tactician, and a force of nature who could command a battlefield without breaking a sweat. But in the confines of your shared life, that composure seemed to crumble whenever a particular emotion clawed its way to the surface: jealousy.

At first, you didn’t notice. Ambessa had always been a little reserved with her affection in public, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the room, calculating. So when her demeanor toward you shifted from warmth to something cold and curt, you chalked it up to her having a bad day.

“Are you all right?” you asked her one evening as she sat at the dining table, her focus locked on the drink in her hand instead of you.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Are you sure? You’ve been distant lately.”

Her golden eyes flicked to you, unreadable and sharp. “Not everything is about you,” she said flatly before rising from the table and leaving the room without another word.

The sting of her words settled deep in your chest. Ambessa was never one for flowery declarations of love, but she’d always treated you with respect, even in moments of frustration. This coldness was new, and you couldn’t understand where it was coming from.

The days that followed were no better. Conversations were short and strained, her responses curt and dismissive. When you reached for her hand, she would pull away under the guise of being “busy.” The distance between you grew, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, she seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length.

One evening, after yet another cold interaction, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ambessa, what is going on with you?”

She barely looked up from the papers she was reading, her expression impassive. “Nothing is going on.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You’ve been cold, distant, and—frankly—rude. Did I do something to upset you? If I did, just tell me.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might actually answer. But instead, she stood, gathering her papers. “I don’t have time for this.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart sinking under the weight of her indifference.

The breaking point came a week later. You were out at a gathering, one of Ambessa’s political obligations that she insisted you accompany her to. The room was filled with important faces and hushed conversations, but you couldn’t shake the tension radiating from your partner.

You’d been speaking with a diplomat—a kind, older gentleman who’d taken an interest in your thoughts on trade routes. The conversation was light and pleasant, and for a moment, you felt at ease.

But when you turned to find Ambessa, her expression was like thunderclouds. She was watching you from across the room, her jaw clenched, her hand gripping her glass tightly.

When you approached her, the frost in her gaze sent a chill down your spine. “Having fun?” she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, frowning.

She shrugged, her lips curling into a humorless smile. “You seemed rather engrossed in your conversation. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

The insinuation in her words hit you like a slap. “Are you… jealous?”

Ambessa scoffed, her voice low and venomous. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Her words cut deep, and for the first time in your relationship, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t understand what I’ve done to make you treat me like this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ambessa didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling small and hurt in a room full of strangers.

The drive home was silent. Ambessa sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. You stared out the window, your reflection a pale ghost against the dark glass.

When you arrived home, you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the door closed behind you, you turned to her. “Why are you doing this?”

She froze, her back to you. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing helplessly. “Being cold, distant, and—” Your voice cracked. “And making me feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Ambessa turned slowly, her expression a mix of anger and something else—something softer, almost vulnerable. “You think you’re not enough for me?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” you said, tears streaming down your face now. “You’ve been treating me like I’m a burden, like I’m not worth your time. I don’t understand why.”

For a moment, she just stood there, her broad shoulders tense, her hands clenched at her sides. Then she let out a long, shaky breath and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and rough

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden apology. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her golden eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been unfair to you.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why have you been acting like this?”

Ambessa hesitated, the unshakable general suddenly looking unsure of herself. “Because I was jealous,” she admitted finally.

Your heart twisted at the admission. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the way people look at you,” she said, her voice tight. “The way they talk to you, like they’re trying to steal you away from me. I know it’s irrational, but I couldn’t stop it. And instead of talking to you about it, I… lashed out.”

You stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Ambessa, no one could ever take me away from you,” you said softly. “I love you. Only you.”

Her shoulders sagged, and for the first time in weeks, the tension seemed to leave her body. “I know,” she said, stepping closer. “But I let my fear get the better of me. And in doing so, I hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

You reached for her, your hands resting on her chest as you looked up into her eyes. “I just want you to talk to me,” you said. “Don’t push me away when you’re feeling like that. I want to help you, not fight with you.”

Ambessa’s hands came up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I promise,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll do better. I’ll talk to you next time. No more walls.”

You nodded, leaning into her touch. “Good. Because I can’t stand this distance between us.”

She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she could physically erase the pain she’d caused. “Neither can I,” she murmured into your hair.

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had your Ambessa back—the strong, steady presence who loved you fiercely, even if she didn’t always know how to show it. And as you stood there, wrapped in her arms, you knew that whatever storms came your way, you’d weather them together.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 5: The Gift (Come Fly With Me)✨

Boo! Surprise chapter! This idea was sparked by some conversations I had with the bestie @citrusbatsandhoneybees along with some great ideas from @rosen-und-mondlicht, I hope you enjoy this one <3

P.S.: There is a little time skip between this chapter and the last!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer wants to give you the best birthday present he could think of, something that you and him can finally share together...

Warnings: 18+, smut, light wing play, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, clone shenanigans, pegging, biting, multiple orgasms, little bit of angst

"Happy Birthday, angel."

Lucifer's soft words caused you to stir awake. You peaked one eye open and saw your darling husband smiling down at you as he hovered above you, twirling your hair with his finger. You moaned and covered your head with the heavy sheets. You kept telling yourself that you would stop falling asleep without any clothes on since you always woke up freezing in the morning. But you and Lucifer went at it for so long the night before that you both ended up passing out almost immediately! But such is the price you pay when you marry the most beautiful creature in existence!

"Noooo," you whined playfully, "too early. Too cold."

Lucifer chuckled while he uncovered your head and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek. "It's never too early to start celebrating!"

Lucifer was absolutely terrible at keeping secrets, especially when it came to you. You could tell from his chipper tone that he had something extraordinary planned for your special day, even though you told him there's nothing he could give you; you already had him, that was more than enough. Lucifer pressed himself against you, spooning you and draping an arm and a leg over your frigid body. "Plus, I can always warm you up, you know," he teased.

"Oh, what a generous offer," you rolled your eyes at him and laughed. "But maybe you're right, we should probably head to the hotel. I'm sure Charlie spent a lot of time with some sort of surprise party or..."

"Actually, love," Lucifer cut you off, "I was hoping we could have breakfast first."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well, we can! But I'm not all that hungry right now, I hardly ever eat in the morning."

"Oh, I know," Lucifer's hand traveled down the length of your arm to your elbow, finally letting it fall to your hip. "I, on the other hand, am starving," he whispered sensually into your ear.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you realized what your insatiable lover was insinuating. "Was last night not enough for you, Luci?"

"I promise you that for as long as I exist, I could never have enough of you," he responded softly, his thumb rubbing loose circles on your skin.

Your cheeks were practically burning now. Even after all this time, the incarnation of temptation itself never failed to make you swoon. It felt as though you found yourself crushing on the devil all over again as if you weren't already his beloved wife.

Lucifer's hands remined on the curve of your hips, his golden eyes almost pleading for a response. You knew he would never do anything unless you gave him permission; just one of his amazing qualities. You took a hold of his hand and guided towards your core, leaving  no doubt in his mind. You smiled and nodded, watching his face practically light up. His fingers wasted no time finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between your folds, starting with small rhythmic circles. A sharp gasp fell from your lips as your body fell prey to his ministrations once again. He knew your body like it was his own, all that mattered to him was your pleasure. It wasn't long before you felt two of his blackened digits slip slowly inside you. Effortlessly, Lucifer pumped them in and out of you; he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction to just being fingered. To him, it was the most adorable thing; he wanted nothing more to bring you pleasure. Especially on a day as special as this. After a minute or two, he withdrew his fingers from you and wrapped his forked tongue around them, licking up every drop of your delicious slick. It drove him wild.

"I adore the way you taste, love," he cooed as you mourned the loss of his fingers, a tiny whimper escaping your throat. "Aww hon, don't guilt trip me like that! Come on, why don't you have a seat?"

Before you could respond, Lucifer swiftly moved your body on top of his, your legs now spread around his eager face. He beamed up at you before trailing kisses up the length of your thighs. Your breath hitched as his lips found your needy clit.

"Gaa-aaahh...Luci..." you managed to choke out as the devil began to lose himself in your taste. Words were useless now, there was no stopping him once he started. Not that you ever wanted him to. Your gripped his soft golden hair with one hand as your other reached for the headboard to steady yourself from his relentless motions. Your mind was beginning to fog again, it was difficult to even form any coherent words. Even in your daze, you managed to turn around and noticed Lucifer's lower half still concealed by the comforter. It didn't seem fair to you that you were getting all of the special treatment while your poor husband was left neglected. Without warning, you removed your hand from the headboard and threw off the sheets to reveal Lucifer's very noticeable erection. A small gasp left Lucifer's lips, but that did nothing to deter him from his actions.

"O-On second th-thought..." you mumbled out, "m-maybe I am a little hungry..."

You raised your hips from Lucifer's face to try and turn around, wanting to give him the same feeling he was giving you. But before you could even move and inch, the man beneath you forced you back down onto his desperate mouth. You yelped in protest, trying and failing to break out of the angelic grip he had on your hips.

"Mm-mmm" he mumbled into your skin, shaking his head.

"L-Lucifer!" you chastised him. "What are you doing? Don't you want-"

"No," he answered softly. "I-I mean, yes! But not right now...stay here..."

You raised your eyebrow. Lucifer was never one to turn down the feeling of your lips on his cock. And he knew how much you loved to bring him to the brink with your tongue alone. "I-I thought I was the birthday girl. I don't think y-you can say no to me, legally speaking."

Lucifer chuckled as he peppered small kisses on your slick folds. "I promise I will give you whatever you want today, no questions asked. Just...later. For now, your pleasure is the only thing I care about." You were about to say something back before he peered up at you with pleading eyes. "Please...Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine!" You sighed but conceded. Lucifer was nothing if not selfless; given that it was your birthday, you shouldn't have expected anything less.

"O-Oh alright," you pouted, "but I'm going t-to hold you to that promise!"

"I would expect nothing less from you, my queen," Lucifer grinned. "Now, where was I?"

Lucifer's ravenous nature took over once more, reveling in your taste. You found your hips bucking against him almost involuntarily. Unraveling you was his favorite pastime, one of which he would never tire. His lips worked furiously against your swollen nub; your breathy moans only egged him on. With little warning, you came hard against his eager mouth, gripping his hair as your walls contracted repeatedly. Your husband relished the taste of your orgasm, humming gleefully and licking you clean.

"Good girl," he praised, pressing soft kisses to your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. He gingerly took a hold of your hips and placed you back down onto the mattress, peppering kisses along your cheek and jaw. "Now if you'll excuse me, my queen, I need to take a VERY cold shower." You dared not look at what you could only imagine was a throbbing erection between his legs. You wouldn't be able to resist helping him out otherwise. Lucifer rose from the bed and started to make his way to the bathroom, but not before you caught his wrist.

"Can I at least join you?" you asked, batting your eyes. Lucifer gave you an amused look and raised an eyebrow. "I really don't want to spend my birthday covered in sweat, Luci! I promise I'll behave! You have my word." You signed an X symbol over your heart before raising your hand to signal your honest intentions. Your lover chuckled lightly, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You're right," he responded, trailing his hand down against your cheek. "I can't say no to you. Just give me a minute or two, alright? I really DO need a cold shower!"

You nodded in agreement and waited patiently as Lucifer fought to get his body under control again. Just as you promised, your shower was uneventful, taking turns washing each other's hair and bodies. Small intimate moments like these were some of your favorites. Being naked together in a non-sexual way proved just how much trust and love the two of you had for one another. And it could only grow stronger. When Lucifer was washing your back, however, you started to hear him humming to himself, tracing the lowest space between your shoulder blades with his free hand.

"That tickles, you know," you chimed in, breaking Lucifer out of his trance.

"O-Oh! Sorry, love, I didn't mean to do that. Got a little distracted." He sighed, not in disappointment, no. More like...he was daydreaming.

"Oh yes, my back is mesmerizing, isn't it?" you teased.

Lucifer laughed with you. "I'm glad you finally admitted it! It's about time someone else appreciated the perfect form of the prettiest woman in the realm!" Your face felt hot once again. You would never understand how Lucifer could manage to fluster you even after being together for a while now. "Actually, I was thinking about your gift this year."

You hummed. Lucifer always managed to outdo himself for every one of your birthdays, even though you always had to remind him not to go overboard. A brand-new wardrobe full of the most expensive clothes, the countless number of shimmering necklaces and earrings, the song he wrote and performed just for you; you couldn't help but think it was way more than you ever deserved.

"You know you never need to get me anything, right?" You turned your head to the side and smiled softly at him. "Not that I don't adore what you give me, but I have everything I could possibly need and more."

"Darling, you deserve more than everything," he responded as he continued to trace shapes along the skin of your back. "but this year, I think it's important that I tell you what I want to give you."

You paused, tilting your head in confusion. This was bizarre. The man was the worst at keeping secrets, but somehow he always managed to surprise you with his extravagant gifts for your birthday; he would never say a peep!

"It's okay Lucifer, you don't have to tell me! I know you like to keep me guessing and I don't mind-"

"No, this is different," he said cutting you off. "B-But it's not bad! Am I making it seem bad? God, this is the worst start to a pitch for birthday gift ever, huh?"

You could only laugh. The poor thing tended to stress himself out over the littlest things. You turned around and embraced him as the hot water from the shower rained down on your bodies.

"You're silly," you chuckled. "Of course, I know it's not going to be bad; it's from you!" You watched as a faint gold color dusted his cheeks. It was the cutest thing; if you could fluster him all the time, you would. "Let's finish up here and you can tell me all about it, okay?"

The angel smiled and nodded, pushing some fallen strands of damp hair behind your ear. You turned off the shower and tried to make your way to your closet before his charcoal hand took a hold of your wrist.

"This is going to sound a just a little suspicious, but don't get dressed just yet." You raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, don't give me that look! I promise there's a very good reason! Here!" With a quick snap of his fingers, you found your body and hair were now perfectly dry with your favorite robe appearing around your body. "There you go! To prove there are no underlying intentions, I've shielded myself from your temptations!"

You rolled your eyes as he snapped himself a robe. "Do you know how easily I can remove this?" you asked playfully as you teased the tied-up straps of your garment. "And yours?"

"Hooonnnnneeeeyyyy," Lucifer whined. "I literally just got myself to calm down, please don't make me take a cold shower again!"

You giggled, agreeing to let him have his way. For now. The two of you walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "So, tell me, Luci, what's this gift you're so worked up about?"

Lucifer smiled softly and took a hold over your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your supple skin. "Well, it uhh...it involves my magic. Which is why I think it's important that I tell you beforehand. Because what I want to do, what I want to give you, is permanent. It can't be undone. So, if you're not one hundred percent on board with this, then your gift will be whatever else you desire!" He fell silent and held your face in his hand.

You don't know why, but you started to feel your heart beating a little faster, you could almost hear the blood pounding in your ears. You weren't scared, no. Maybe excited? But that didn't seem to be right either. The few seconds of silence was killing you. You had to know what he was planning. "What is it, Lucifer?" you asked, not being able to wait any longer.

He let out a deep breath before answering. "My love, would you like to fly with me?"

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected response. "Well, I mean, sure! We go flying all the time! I like seeing the rings from above, and you holding me so close is always a nice bonus. Is there something special about this trip?"

Lucifer only shook his head. "That's not exactly what I'm asking, sweetie. I mean, would you like to go flying with me? With your own set of wings?"

Oh...

Oh!

"H-How?" you stammered. "I didn't even know that was possible..."

"Well, luckily for you, your husband is a seraphim!" Lucifer announced proudly. "Only the highest-ranking angels can use magic this powerful! That is...if that's what you want. I-I can always come up with something else if you don't want them! I'm just now realizing that I did not plan ahead...if you give me a minute I can-"

"Lucifer, slow down!" you held is hands tight. "You didn't even give me a chance to answer, goofball!"

He smiled sheepishly, taking a few deep breaths. "Right, right, I'm sorry. You know me, chronic overthinker! So...is that a yes, then?"

You nod. "Yes, it is. I would love to have wings, Luci, to be able to fly with you."

Lucifer shot off the bed with excitement, taking you by the wrists and twirling you in a circle, a fit of giggles erupting from the both of you. When you finally stopped, he gazed into your eyes longingly before pressing a single kiss on your cheek. "You're absolutely sure, right? Because after I'm done, they'll be a part of you forever."

You smiled and returned a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sure. They'll be a part of me just like you are. Forever."

You could almost see the tears welling up in Lucifer's eyes as you spoke. He leaned in close to you, his breath hot on your ear. "For all time. Here, come with me." He walked you over to the center of the room, and with a snap of his fingers, created a large wall of mirrors that encircled the two of you. "Just to make this less scary, I want  you to be able to see what I'm doing. Think of this as like...getting a tattoo!"

You let out a small shaky breath. "Will it hurt?"

"Somewhat," Lucifer replied, "but not too much. Embedding angelic magic is a bit of a tricky process. I won't be able to stop once I've started, so I want to check with you one last time...do you want this?"

"I do," you answered unwaveringly. "Besides, you know I can handle my fair share of pain," you winked at him.

Lucifer quickly pressed his face into your back while he gripped your shoulders, trying and failing to hide his blushing face. "Why do you have to say things like that?! I will not fall for your devious tricks, temptress! You can't distract me!"

You couldn't contain your laughter as your husband desperately attempted to get control of his thoughts. "The day's still young, hon."

Lucifer rolled his eyes as he lifted your robe off of your shoulders. You helped him by letting the garment fall to the small of your back. You stared at the mirror and watched as the angel began to glow, a faint light encompassing his body. It was a rare sight for you, it felt impossible to look away.

"Deep breaths for me, love," he said. You did as he asked. "Good. Keep as still as you can for me. This will only take a minute."

His darkened finger pressed into your skin and began to move slowly. His touch was hot. Very hot. But not to the point of being unbearable. You winced as you felt your skin being burned by his magic. It was difficult to tell what he was doing in the different reflections around you, so you decided to focus on your breathing, deciding distracting yourself from the pain was the best option.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

"Your doing so well," Lucifer cooed, "I'm halfway done." His finger shifted over to the other side of your back and began the same process. You smiled weakly even though it felt like you were being branded by a hot iron. Lucifer could tell you were in pain; your silence was his indication. He knew you were focusing all of your power into keeping as motionless as possible and doing your best not to scream.

Without moving your body, your brough your hand up your mouth, biting down on the base of your index finger. He had warned you; he had told you it may hurt, but this was not the level of pain you were expecting. And just before a cry of agony threatened to escape your throat, it stopped. The pain was gone. A single tear rolled down your cheek that was immediately wiped away by Lucifer who had rushed in front of you to embrace you.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he begged, "I know that was a lot. But it's over now!"

You let out a heavy sigh, your body relaxing after being constricted for what felt like hours. You wrapped your arms around Lucifer, stroking his golden hair. "It's okay, Luci. I'm okay," you reassured him. "Just a little more than I was expecting..."

Lucifer began to press small kisses to the top of your exposed breasts. "Sometimes I forget that you're not invincible," he admitted. "Guess I lied to you when I said it wouldn't hurt that much, please forgive me."

You smiled and placed a quick peck to the top of his head. "You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie. I agreed to it. But like you said, it's over now, no need to wallow in the past."

Lucifer smiled in relief before leaning in to kiss your soft lips. You held him there for a bit, placing your hand behind his head as your tongues became entangled. Lucifer pulled away from you, much to your dismay, and chuckled. "So impatient," he breathed against your lips.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," you replied.

Lucifer hummed softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Do you want to see what I've done?" You nodded, finally taking a peak in the mirror, expecting to see that your back had been burnt to a crisp. But it wasn't, it looked perfectly normal. Except, of course, for the two new crimson markings that now adorned your skin. From what you could tell, they looked like two large gashes, as if someone had carved your skin with a knife. A hot, burning knife laced with poison. Thankfully, you no longer felt any of the excruciating pain that you had felt moments before.

"You know," you finally spoke up, "for the amount of pain I was in, you would think they would have been bigger!"

"Hey now!" Lucifer shot back playfully, "I already feel bad enough for having to hurt you like I did!"

"You know I'm teasing, Luci," you cooed. "I do have a question, though. Why don't you have the same markings on your back?"

"Ahh, good question!" the angel exclaimed as he helped readjust your robe. "I was created as an angel; my wings are inherently a part of me. I do have markings, but I can hide them!"

"Oh," you sighed. "Am I allowed to see them?"

Lucifer smirked. "Is this just a ploy of your so you can see me naked? You've been rather ravenous today, you know."

Your hands flew to his waist, bringing him flush against you. "When you have the prettiest angel in existence as your husband, how could I not be?" Once again, his cheeks turned a pale-yellow color at your compliment, burying his face in your chest and letting out a small squeak of embarrassment. You stroked his hair, doing your best to console him. "But no, I am actually curious! I've never gotten to see them. I'll be on my best behavior!"

Lucifer flashed a toothy grin at you before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips once again. "Oh, alright. I believe you. And who am I to say no to my queen?" He stood up straight and turned his back to you, undoing his robe and letting it droop off of his shoulders, letting it fall to his waist. His pale white skin changed before your eyes. While once there was nothing, now displayed identical markings to yours. The only different was that he had six slits, three on each side.

You reached out your hand before pausing. "Are they sensitive?" you asked.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side. "They're...more tender than anything. The wings themselves are sensitive, but you knew that already," he winked. He was right, you were very much aware of how Lucifer reacted when you stroked his wings in the past. You adored the sounds he made when you ran your fingers through his feathers and-NO! You promised to behave. You shook those less than pure thoughts from your head and pressed to fingers into one of Lucifer's markings. Strangely, they felt a bit warmer than the rest of his body, but it was a nice sensation, nonetheless.

"Beautiful..." was the only word you could utter upon seeing these markings on your husband’s body.

Lucifer chucked and fixed his robe. "You flatter me too much, darling." With another snap of his fingers, all of the mirrors surrounding you had vanished. "I could say the same thing about you! And I will! Because you are so so SO beautiful!" Without warning, he scooped you up bridal style and began peppering kisses all over your smiling face. He carried you over to your closet before setting you back down. "So, are you ready for your first flying lesson?"

"Right...f-flying..." It completely escaped you that you would actually be using you wings to fly. It's not like you were afraid of heights; Lucifer and you have flown together countless times. the only difference being that you were always cradled in his arms. What you feared was the falling.

Lucifer sensed the trepidation in your wavering voice and softly squeezed your hand. "I won't let anything happen to you; I promise. I'll be with you every step of the way. Wait, no...flap of the way? You know what I mean!" You smiled and let out a deep breath. He kissed you on the cheek before leaving to let you change. "Don't worry about your outfit too much, love, your wings won't tear anything up! Magic is neat like that, huh? I'll meet you out on the balcony!"

As soon as you were alone, you picked out the most practical outfit in your wardrobe. Dresses and skirts weren't going to cut it this time, you didn't need to give all of the Pride ring a free show. You picked out one of your favorite shirts and a pair jeans before heading out to meet Lucifer. And just as he said, he was standing right over the balcony that was connected to your bedroom, now fully dressed in his signature white and red outfit. You stood beside him and gripped the metal rail; the only thing between you and a nasty fall to the hard ground. The hot wind of Hell blew through your hair, whipping it back and forth, blurring your vision a bit. This was real, this was about to happen. You were about to fly.

Lucifer placed his hand on top of yours and smiled. "I'll go first, okay?" You nodded wordlessly, watching the angel climb the rail, now towering above you. "Watch and learn!" he exclaimed as he leaped down with a load cheer.

Show off, you thought to yourself.

It was only a second before Lucifer appeared in front of you once again, his large red wings spread wide as he hovered in the air. "Okay, you don't have to do exactly that," he joked, "but once you learn, you'll be able to do that and more with ease! Now, let's see those new wings of yours! All you have to do think of them and POOF! There they are!"

"Alright..." you nearly whispered. You closed your eyes, imagining yourself with a set of wings. An image flashed in your mind; you saw their shape, their size, their color...they were beautiful. Your eyes flashed open, as small gasp escaping your throat as your new wings fluttered behind you for the first time. Dazzling golden feathers glistened, your eyes drawn to their sparkle. Your eyes followed the white base of your wings from your shoulder all the way down to where they hung above the floor. You were awestruck. You could have sworn the feathers were made of real gold, but when you touched them, they were as soft as chinchilla fur. Arguably, they were even softer than Lucifer’s, which you didn't think would be possible! It was a weird sensation; the feeling of running your fingers through them. You didn't expect them to feel like they were apart of you, but they were. And you loved them. You couldn't hold back your smile, the utter joy you felt in that moment.

"Oh, golly..." Lucifer said softly, unable to pull his eyes away from the sight of you. "Sweetheart, they're...wow, you look absolutely gorgeous. I didn't think you could be any more beautiful then you already are. I stand corrected! Uhh, no, hold on...float corrected! I really have to think before I speak."

You chuckled as he hoisted you up onto the balcony railing without warning, a squeak escaping your throat in the process. His grip on you never wavered, holding you firm so you couldn't lose your balance. Against your better judgement, you looked down from your high altitude. You regretted it immediately. You shot your head back up, Lucifer looking longingly into your eyes, a soft smile spread across his lips.

"I'll keep you safe, my love," he insisted. "Can you try moving your wings for me. Slowly now..."

You nodded and did as he said, allowing yourself to feel and embrace your new body. Your wings moved back and forth lethargically. For some reason, they felt more powerful than they appeared. Your wings could carry Satan himself if they wanted to! Your worry started to lessen more and more as you grew to understand how much force they could really generate. You began to move them faster, creating stronger gusts of wind with each pass. After another moment you felt your that your feet were no longer touching any surface. Lucifer beamed, his hands loosening as you floated higher and higher. Until at last you were left to your own devices.

You were flying.

"I-I...I did it!" you exclaimed!

Lucifer flew up to you and gripped your hands tightly. "I knew you could!" Lucifer waved his hand over the Pride Ring as if he were presenting it to you. "The sky is yours, my angel, give them a go! I promise I'll stay close by just in case."

Your heart pounded in your ears; fear being replaced with exhilaration. Up here, your felt like you could do anything. With a powerful push from your wings, you were off, speeding past Lucifer and heading straight towards Pentagram City. You knew Lucifer could fly fast, but he was always more careful when he had you in his arms. You reminded yourself to scold him once you got back because this feeling was beyond imagination. You couldn't contain your laughter as your sped through the vermillion red sky. You could see everything from up here! From the Hazbin Hotel on top of the hill to the V Tower in the Entertainment District. It was magical, you would have stayed in the air there forever if you could.

Lucifer snuck up on you, soaring just above you and hanging upside down, his face parallel your yours. "You're a natural, sweetie! You caught on quick!"

You kissed his upside-down lips in response, watching a goofy smile spread across his face. "This is just...this is amazing, Lucifer! I really don't know how to thank you."

"You don't need to," he replied, "your happiness is thanks enough. Now the question is...do you want to do a little sightseeing? Orrrrr...we could have some fun!"

You tilted your head. "Fun?"

"How about a race!," he suggested. "I saw the way you moved; it was hard to keep track of you! Who knows, you may even beat moi!"

You rolled your eyes. "I highly doubt that, hon, but let's give it a shot!"

"Yay! Great! Okay uhhh..." Lucifer scanned the surrounding area. "First one to the Embassy wins!"

"Ok, you're on!" you challenged. You lined up side by side, your eyes locked on your goal. "Ready...set..."

"GO!" Lucifer yelled as he took off towards the building, leaving you floating there.

"Hey, no fair!" You called out, your voice falling on deaf ears. With all your might, you thrusted yourself forward, your wings propelling you forward at a pace you didn't think possible. You smirked as you began to catch up to your cheating husband with little effort. You ducked underneath him, pulling yourself from his line of vision if he were to look back. And wouldn't you know it, he did!"

"Sorry, love, you gotta be...wait, where'd you go?" Lucifer slowed, giving you the opportunity to soar right past him. "Woah!" you heard him shout, laughing as you came closer and closer to winning the rigged race. Within a few seconds, you managed to land successfully on top of the golden building. You turned around ready to taunt him, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Lucifer?" you called.

"There you are! What took you so long?" Lucifer turned the corner hidden by the roof, strolling up to you with a shit eating grin on his face.

Oh, that little...

"You're such a cheater!" you accused playfully. "Since when were portals allowed?"

He gasped and looked offended. "Me? A cheater? You wound me with such accusations, sweetheart! And besides, it's not like we set up any rules beforehand that didn't allow a few detours."

You huffed in annoyance. "Guess I should know you really aren't one for rules."

"Never," he confirmed, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I want a rematch!" you demanded. You looked up to where the glowing light of Heaven shown in the sky, your lips forming into a grin. "Let's see who can fly the highest!” You spread your wings out as far as they could stretch and gave Lucifer a quick wink. “Go!"

"Wait, honey, don't-" but it was too late. You took to the air in a flash, racing to the top as fast as you could manage, leaving Lucifer in the dust.

"What's the matter, Luci, afraid you'll lose this time?" you shouted down to him. He called back to you, but it became hard to hear him the greater the distance you created. Did he say "slow down?" No. You weren't going to let him trick you again. You were going to win whatever it took! You were going to-

S̸̹̰͙̥̃T̵̨̾͋̈́̀̓̈́̃̑̎̓̕͜Ȯ̴̞̫͉̳̙̝͐̂́͒̀̃͆̽͝P̴̛͚͉̤̳͖̪̝̾̂͘!̷̡͖͎̠̮̥̜̟̦̦̫͛̌̃͌̍̌̋

You froze. And it seemed as though all of Hell below did as well. It go quiet, too quiet for the likes of the Pride Ring.

The King had spoken.

You hovered there in the air, letting Lucifer catch up to you. His demonic features were out on full display, his eyes a deep crimson red. It took you a moment to realize that you were trembling. Lucifer had never lashed out in anger for anything, not once. Hell, he never even raised his voice at you.

What had you done?

Tears started to form in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheek. That was until Lucifer embraced you as he had finally caught up to you. You flinched when you felt his arms around you; something you had never done before. Were you...afraid of him. All of these thoughts became quiet when you heard him quietly sob into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he bawled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I-I didn't...I mean, I'd never...God, I'm so sorry." You felt his tail wrap tightly around your leg while his claws were threatening to pierce your skin with how tightly he held onto you. "Please tell me you're alright..."

"It...It's alright, Lucifer." you voice was barely above a whisper. "And so am I." You pulled away from his embrace, watching as large tears fell down his distressed face. You've never seen him like this before, even during his darkest days when he would refuse to get out of bed. You freed one of your arms trying to wipe the tears away. "Lucifer, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you like this, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Love, you did nothing wrong," he answered, finally letting you go and reverting back to his normal form. "This was all my fault. My mistake. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I don't understand."

Lucifer sighed, doing his best to regain his composure. "There's something I didn't tell you. I was so blinded by joy that I'd forgotten to warn you. And it almost cost me everything." He grabbed your hands, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. You looked at him puzzled, not truly understanding what he was implying. "After what happened in Eden, Heaven wanted to be certain that I could never return. I did everything I could, I pleaded with them. But they didn't listen to me. When they cast me out...when I fell, I tried to fly back. I was desperate, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I thought I could somehow reason with them. But..." Lucifer fell silent, his expression falling with every passing second.

Your heart hurt. Lucifer hardly ever brought up his fall, or Heaven for that matter. You knew it was painful for him to talk about. What almost happened that had caused this sudden change? "What did they do to you?" you asked quietly.

Lucifer flew back from you a few feet, looking up towards the realm he once called home. "Stay right there," he said to you before flying up higher. Something happened after only a moment. A long and glowing golden chain caught Lucifer around his ankle, tethering him to Hells surface far below. He couldn't move anymore; he was made completely immobile. That was until he floated down back towards you. The chain had completely vanished. And it became clear to you. Why he had screamed, why he held you the way he did, the deep regret and remorse he was feeling...was for your protection.

"They chained you here?" you asked, your voice laced with rage and disgust.

"Yes," he spoke dejectedly. "They made sure my magic could never breach beyond this realm. My realm...And you...you're body flows with my magic now. I-If you would have gone even a little bit higher, with t-the speed you were flying...I-I..." he trailed off. He didn't have to finish his sentence to understand what he wanted to say.

You hesitated wanting to push the subject further, but you couldn't hold back the fury you felt in your soul. "What happened when you tried to go back?"

Lucifer took a deep breath before continuing. "I didn't know that chain would appear. So, when I flew up, it caught me after a certain threshold...I became damaged. “My leg was..." he paused, not wanting to continue his thought. You were glad that he didn't. "And my healing abilities could only do so much to fix it. Angels can only be damaged by other angels or their magic. Have you ever wondered why I carry around a cane with me?"

If you were honest, you never did. All you thought was that it was just an accessory of his, something that made him stand out. Never once did you think it was an aid for him. For as long as you were with him, he never indicated that he was ever in any sort of physical pain.

"I haven't had to properly use it for a long time now," he explained. "I'm practically back to the way I was before that all happened. But I keep it with me as a reminder..."

"Lucifer..." You didn't know what to say. What could you say? You were sad for him, angry for him. What Heaven had done to him was beyond forgiveness.

"But you...you weren't created as an angel," he continued. "If the same thing that happened to me were to happen to you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. And now...now your truly trapped hear because of me."

You couldn't help but squeeze his hands in defiance. "No," you said firmly. "Lucifer, please don't say that! You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me." With newfound determination, your wings carried the two of you higher until those golden chains stopped you from moving any farther. "I've never felt more free than I do right now. You may think I'm trapped here now, and even if that may be the case, I'm trapped here with you, not because of you. You are my freedom." You held his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly. "And you are my Heaven. Now tell me...what's better than being stuck with the person you love and adore the most for the rest of time?"

Lucifer laughed lightly, bringing the two of you farther and farther down. "I don't know how you manage to always make the worst situations more beautiful, but you do. But I love that about you, always able to see things on the bright side..." He returned your kiss from earlier with his own, this one more passionate and desperate, feeling as though he could have lost you. You smiled into his kiss, loving the familiar ways that he showed affection. He was hungry as if he was trying to devour you. The adrenaline was kicked into high gear and you wanted nothing more than to match it. Your hands and well as his began to roam over each other’s bodies as you still hung in the air, completely filtering out the blood curdling screams and fiery explosions below.

"Do you want to take this somewhere else, hon?" you teased breathlessly.

"I most definitely do," Lucifer smirked, "flying lessons are over for today." Your husband snapped a portal open and dragged you inside it with a laugh. The two of you landed on your king-sized mattress as your tongues continued to fight for dominance over the other. "No one out there should get to see you like this. For my eyes only..."

You positioned yourself on his lap, grinding softly on his bulge that began to grow more and more with each passing second until he was moaning in your mouth. "Luci, remember that promise you made earlier? The one where you said I could have anything I want?" Lucifer gulped and smiled sheepishly. "I think that time has come."

“I always keep my promises,” he whispered against your lips before diving back into again, his hands making their way under your shirt and up your body. “But I only ask one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keep your wings out for me,” the man asked sweetly.

You nodded in agreement, running your fingers through his hair. “I never had breakfast you know. Think I should have something to eat, Luci?”

With a knowing smile, Lucifer snapped your clothes away as well as his own, too impatient for his own good. You crawled out of his lap, eyeing up his now very erect member. Licking your lips, you shifted onto your hands and knees and crawled in between his legs. You began to press small pecks to his leaking tip; his breath hitched and he became putty in your hands. With a small giggle, you fully wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, savoring the delicious musky flavor. His soft moans off the walls in your room as he gently gripped your hair. You loved the way his body trembled when you had him like this; legs spread, his cock invading your mouth, unable to speak coherently. Pure bliss.

“Aaa-aahhh, baby, f-fuck…” Lucifer stammered. “Y-You always make me feel s-so good. B-But I shouldn’t be the only one feeling l-like this.”

You felt his hand graze the base of your wings. You moaned around his cock at the sudden jolt of pleasure. No wonder he asked you to keep your wings out…he wanted to make you feel what he’s felt every time you do it to him.

And fuck, did it feel amazing.

But you didn’t want to be distracted, so you decided to pick up the pace. Your tongue began swirling around his tip at a rapid pace, forcing yourself to take him deeper and deeper until he was nearly hitting the back of your throat. Lucifer cried out as you mercilessly worked on his length.

Just then you heard the snap of his figures again, followed by a lustful sigh.

“You’re leaking s-so much hon,” he murmured. He was right, of course. But how could he know? He couldn’t see…wait.

You lifted your head up, causing Lucifer to whine at the loss of your mouth. Turning around, you could see a mirror had been placed behind you on the bed, giving your lover a perfect view of your aching pussy.

“Enjoying the show?” you mocked, stroking his cock languidly in the process.

“Very m-much…” he teased weakly. “And I could definitely go for another bite. So, if you want to…”

“No way,” you cut him off, “I’m not moving until I have my fill.” You leaned in and pressed your lips to his ear. “Unless, of course, you just can’t help yourself.” It was an open invitation, a challenge. And he knew that all too well. Being the king of Pride, he never turned down one of those.

You went back to work, deep throating his cock just like before. But you only got to bob your head a few more times before you felt a separate pair of hands grip your waist. You smiled, realizing you got exactly what you were hoping for.

Your lover had duplicated himself.

Wordlessly, Lucifer’s doppelgänger pressed his mouth into your cunt without warning, causing you to nearly scream. The clone’s tongue dug deeper and deeper inside you with every pass, while your Lucifer refused to let up on your wings. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You knew you weren't going to last much longer at this rate with both of them making it their mission to push you over the edge. Luckily, as soon as you felt Lucifer begin to twitch in your mouth, you knew he was a goner. But once the clone behind you began to use his figures to circle the sensitive bud between your legs, it was over for you.

You choked out a scream as you came hard on the other Lucifer's tongue who happily lapped up your juices. And as if on cue, Lucifer bucked into your mouth with a broken cry, gripping your wings as his hot seed slipping down your eager throat. Maybe the taste of you was enough to drive him to the brink. You swallowed all of him happily, making sure to get every last drop before releasing his still erect cock.

"Was that good, Luci?"

"Y-Yes," he whimpered, leaning in and closing the gap between the two of you. "It's always more than good with you. darling. I think the other me made a mess, though." True to form, you noticed a puddle of cum on the bedsheets behind you from the clone who had vanished. Smiling, you used a figure to scoop up some of the sticky substance only to lick it clean. Lucifer's hands flew to his face in embarrassment. "How many times are you gonna fluster me like this today?!"

"Well, at least once more," you replied seductively. "I do have one more request." You slipped off the bed and made your way over to one of the drawers in your nightstand. You pulled out your favorite strap and a small bottle of lube and presented them to Lucifer. "Let's take a ride, shall we?"

"Y-Yes! Oh, fuck yes, please!" Lucifer's excitement was adorable, especially when you watched him take his position on all fours, bearing his supple ass to you.

"Good boy," you praised as you smeared some lube onto your fingers. You prodded at his tight entrance before pushing in your slick fingers little by little until you were as far inside of him as you could reach. The angel whined into the bed sheets as you spread your fingers inside of him, opening him up and preparing him for what came next. Once you felt he was fully prepared, you slipped on the strap and sat back down at the head of the bed. You squeezed some more lube onto your hand and ran in up and down the plastic shaft with Lucifer practically drooling at the site. With a curled finger, you summoned him over. But before he could line himself up, you stopped him.

"Nuh uh, wrong way, Luci," you corrected him. "You had your fun with the mirror; I'd like to have a turn now." Lucifer whimpered a bit but complied, shifting his body so that he was now faced away from you. You then took a hold of his hips and guided him down ever so slowly onto the strap. Pleasured whines from Lucifer continued until he bottomed out on you. You stared into the mirror, leaving small kisses on Lucifer's back. "Aww, look at you, baby! You look so cute sitting on my cock like that. Are you ready to move?"

"P-Please..." he begged.

"Go ahead, Luci, I'll help you." With that, Lucifer began to shift himself on your strap, sliding up and down slowly at first but picking up speed not long after. Your hands remained on his hips as you helped him stay fully sheathed as he rocked his hips. Lucifer moaned with every movement, his cock slapping against his stomach with every thrust. Lucifer shut his eyes as he lost himself. But that wasn't going to fly for you. "No, no, honey, open your eyes. I want you to look in the mirror. Watch yourself ride my cock." He did as you asked, looking directly at his reflection with the most fucked out face you've ever seen on this man.

"I-I...oh ffffuck...too much. S-sweetie, please...please, I-I'm gonna cum...please, s-so close...please say I c-can cum." His pleading was music to your ears, you've never heard a sweeter sound. Your lips continued to mark his back, his shoulders, and his neck, nipping softly at his arctic white skin. One of your hands flew from his hip to his pulsing cock, stroking him in tandem with his thrusts.

"Go ahead, Luci, cum for me. I want to watch you cum for me."

Not even a moment later, Lucifer let himself release more of his hot cum into your hand with a broken scream, his hands digging into your thighs for support. You pumped him lazily, letting him ride out his orgasm as his movement on your strap slowed and eventually stopped. His body fell back against your own, his breathing heavy and labored. He turned his just enough to be able to kiss you softly, soft "thank you's" falling from his lips.

"You did so well," you cooed. "You make the most adorable faces when you cum, you know that? Are you ready to clean up now?" You helped him of your strap, laying him down gently on top of you as you laid down flat on the bed.

"N-No," you mumbled. "Not yet. Not done." You were shocked at first, but surprisingly, you could still feel how hard Lucifer's cock still was pressed against your stomach. Before you could respond, Lucifer clawed the strap off of you and tossed it to the side. He slipped between your legs, lining himself up with your soaking entrance. "May I?"

You nodded. "Yes, please." Lucifer smiled and pushed the head of his cock into you. A sling of curses left your mouth as your husband sank into you inch by inch until he was enveloped fully by you. He wrapped his arms under you, bringing you as close to him as possible as he kissed you in a fit of passion.

"Allow me to make love to you properly, like you deserve," he breathed against your skin. "Allow me to apologize again." His hips began to grind against you, his impressive length hitting every single sensitive spot you had.

"A-Apologize?" you questioned hazily. "For what?"

"For earlier," his voiced was barely a whisper. "That v-voice I used. I-I could tell it frightened you. It broke my h-heart when I saw your face." His thrusts were more erratic now, his concentration wavering. "The last thing I want i-is for you to be afraid of me. And I'm s-so sorry I that used that on you."

Your hands found his face and held it gently. "L-Lucifer, it's okay, r-really! I-I...oh fuck...don't stop...oh...my...God..."

"A-Are you sure?" he asked pleadingly.

"Y-Yes, of course I am! I understand why y-you had to. You were protecting m-me, just like you said you would. W-Why would I be mad at you for keeping your promise?"

Lucifer smiled wide, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts became unrelenting, your cunt contracting around his cock. "I-I don't deserve you. H-How did I end up so l-lucky...ssshhhhiiiittt..." You felt his tail coil around your thigh, constricting it in a way that let you know he was on the verge of losing himself in the feeling of you.

"I love you, Lucifer," you said emphatically. You were close, so close. The coil in your abdomen was on the verge of snapping once again as Lucifer refused to slow his rut into you, burying himself deep within you with every thrust of his hips.

"I love you too, darling. F-Forever. Mine forever."

With your declarations of love, you came together with loud and unapologetic moans. Your walls fluttering around him as he painted your gummy walls white with his cum. As the last of his seed spilled into you, Lucifer collapsed on top of you. You remained sweaty and breathless messes for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness you shared in that moment.

Your fingers ran through Lucifer's hair as he hummed in approval. "Thank you again for the wings, Lucifer. I really do love them. I can't wait to go flying with you again."

Lucifer stared at you and stuck out his tongue out playfully. "Well, why don't we take another shower and fly over to the Hotel? Charlie may or may not have planned a surprise party for you. But I am sworn to secrecy!"

You giggled and kissed the angel's forehead. "Come on, then. Let's not keep her waiting!"

****

Happy one year anniversary of Lucifer's first official appearance on Hazbin! <3<3<3

@ask-theradio-demon @sonicwind-01 @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj

@bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @the-other-soup @orbitinglumps

@ramenkitten @blaackbiird @lucisaspen @pvppybun @6esiree

@seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht

@heavenlyraindrops @atapeworm @ag-cookiebat800 @victoriousvic @meesachan

@rand0m-1diot @lonelynmisunderstood @redvexillum @yourmom132 @liveontelevision

@luci-lover-forever @lolalovesmorningstar @moonlight-readings @nayomi247 @citrusbatsandhoneybees

@yve-barr @s1nfu7h0r53f7y @leviskittywh0re @thornwolfy235 @qu1cks1lversb1tch @writteninlunarlight-years

@lauruoriii @annybah @jayyyayaysblog @sweet-radio @diffidentphantom

@sunflower-reaper @activesplooger @damsel-loves-machines @redfoxwritesstuff @shae-mermaid

[crescentflics]

MINORS DO NOT ENAGAE. 18+

Random short blurb..

Trigger warnings: stalking, slight cnc? I think? Mask kink, mentions of panty stealing

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Summary: Ghost face Rafe has silently gotten into your house and you, unaware, are sitting in your vanity chair in front of your mirror, blindfolded. He watches you touch yourself while he jerks off with your panties behind you.

WARNING: I intend to post dark smut. This piece is DARK. Be warned that my page will get dark and ALL my work may be uncomfortable for some viewers and it is NOT intended for minors.

Enjoy XoXo

______________________________________

Rafe had only ever seen her out in public one time before he began watching her. Just one glance and she was his greatest obsession. Anywhere she went, Rafe was somewhere in the distance. He couldn’t help it, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

But she was so fucking dumb. He’d gotten into her house so easily, he almost wanted to laugh. He made his way quietly up the stairs, hot underneath his mask. Just incase she saw him, he wasn’t ready to give up his identity. He still wanted to play with her.

He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d broken into her home to steal her panties. He made his way upstairs to her bedroom. And to his surprise the door was wide open.

The curly haired brunette was sitting at her large brown vanity, legs hanging over the arms of her vanity chair. The girl had a blindfold over her eyes, she was dressed in lingerie that was a deep shade of red. Lace patterns swirled around her skin leading to an opening at her cunt for easy access.

Rafe watched her fingers press a small vibrator against her clit in circles, her body writhed gently in the chair, her pussy soaking and lips panting. His cock was hard instantly. He palmed himself through his jeans, teasing himself further until he slowly unzipped his pants and pulled his thick cock out.

Rafe locked his eyes on her parted lips, he wanted to walk over and slap his slick tip against her lips. The thought made his cock throb and he wrapped his large hands around his length. He wanted to groan at the pleasure of pumping through his hand.

He squeezed tightly, imagining the feeling of her dripping pussy swallowing him whole. He reached into his back pocket with his free hand and pulled out a pair of her purple lace panties. He wrapped them around his cock and stroked harder.

If the girl opened her eyes, she’d see Rafe standing tall in the door way, masked head thrown back in silent pleasureexposting his Adam’s Apple. His muscles would be clothed in a fitted black T-shirt and would flex with the motions of his slow hard thrusts around his dick, under the mask he his lip between his teeth, trying to keep his groans low as he pictured her.

He straightened his head again and stared at her perfect body in the mirror, her moans we’re growing louder and her pussy was starting to drip onto her seat, she pushed her hips desperately into the toy.

He wanted to punish her for leaving her doors open for anyone to come in and see. He could grab her by her hair and bend her over her vanity. He stroked his cock faster.

Pull her wrists behind her back and hold her down tightly enough to bruise her. He’d pound her pussy so hard. His breathing grew heavier despite his efforts.

He pictured the way she’d sound. The way she’d look taking such a thick dick so deep. He wanted to fill her with his cum, he wanted her to belong to him. He needed her pussy around his dick. The thought of breeding her tight hole pushed him over edge and he couldn’t help but groan quietly when he released thick cum on her pretty panties.

The girl froze in her mirror. He decided with a smirk to drop the panties there and disappear before she could spot him.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Six: Endurance

Chapter WC: 8,685

A/N: This chapter was supposed to just be about the boys, but I couldn't help but throw in a little extra treat. Also I'm going to put up a poll about the cover of this fic today, please vote if you can!

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Hyperspace, 21 BBY

After a whirlwind of meetings and introductions, and far too much talking, you were finally aboard the Oracle and on your way to Bothawui. You’d never in your life met so many people in such a short time, and while you were sure some would argue that was part of being a general, you couldn't help but feel drained and exhausted by the constant barrage of faces and names.

Thankfully, Booker was there to help, acting as a buffer between you and the rest of the world. He was surprisingly good at it, keeping everyone at arm's length while still making it seem like you were the friendliest and most approachable general anyone had ever met. It was a skill you had no idea he possessed, and one you were more than happy to take advantage of. The men respected him, and as far as you could tell, they didn't resent your presence. Even if you were starting to become undeniably cranky and snappy.

After a day and a half, however, things had finally begun to settle down, and the routine had started to take hold. You were still meeting and greeting and making friends, but the constant barrage of faces was finally becoming manageable, and the ship's crew and officers had stopped jumping at the chance to shake your hand. And while the men were still eager to introduce themselves, the novelty of a new general had begun to wear off. Which was a relief, considering how little sleep you'd gotten in the last forty-eight hours.

"What about green?" Booker asks, his gaze never leaving the datapad in his hands. "That would look good."

You give a noncommittal hum from somewhere in your chest and shift in your seat, trying desperately to get comfortable. The two of you have been in the conference room for the better part of the evening, discussing everything from supplies to battle strategies. And while you were enjoying his company and the chance to talk, it's getting late, and your body is screaming at you to rest.

“That’s fine,” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

“Or maybe something darker. Black?”

“Great.”

You close your eyes and lean back, the soft whirring of the ventilation system a welcome distraction. You listen to the gentle rhythm, the sound slowly fading into the background as your thoughts begin to drift.

The last couple of days had gone by in a blur, and it was only now that you were finally able to slow down and catch your breath. There had been a dozen meetings, a hundred questions, and a thousand decisions, and it was starting to take its toll. You hadn't realized exactly how much planning went into war until now, and the grey hairs starting to sprout from Obi-Wan's temples are beginning to make a lot more sense to you.

Your thoughts turn to him, and you can't help but wonder how he's doing. The two of you had spoken a few times, the conversation focused more on your respective divisions and the status of the war than anything else. You’d tried to keep the tone light, avoiding the topic of what had happened between the two of you. But even the briefest mention of Rex had caused a flash of sadness to pass over his face, and a twinge of guilt had twisted your gut.

The two of you were struggling, but both of you were trying your best to move past it. That was all that mattered. At least for now.

As for Rex, you'd messaged him a few times since you left, but the two of you had yet to have a chance to comm each other. The men had kept you busy, and he'd had his hands full with the 501st. As much as it pained you to admit, the distance was probably for the best. At least until you figured out exactly what it was that you were doing. Or rather, what it was that you were not doing.

“…And I was thinking I could paint a giant target on my armor and put myself on the front line. What do you think about that, sir?"

You blink, snapping back to the present, the image of Rex's face fading away. You glance at Booker to see he's staring at you, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Uh, sorry, what was that?" you ask. Booker lets out a dramatic sigh and sets his datapad on the table.

"I was just saying how nice it is to have a general who listens," he drawls. "Really pays attention to every single word."

"I'm listening," you mumble, stifling a yawn.

"Right," he replies. He crosses his arms, his gaze never leaving your face. "You're tired."

"I'm fine," you tell him. The lie is weak, even to your own ears, and you let out a frustrated groan, running a hand over your face. "Okay, yeah, I'm tired. Sorry. I just—"

"Need some sleep?" Booker finishes, his voice gentle. You shake your head, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes.

"No, no," you mutter. "It's fine. We can keep going."

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and gives you a look. It’s not quite a glare, but it's close, and it’s so like Rex that it's startling. For a second, you're thrown back to the night in your quarters, Rex kneeling in front of you, the two of you staring at each other as he gently coaxed you into letting him take care of you. Then his words, his reminder to focus on your men and not your demons, ring through your mind. And suddenly, you're feeling a little less stubborn. A little more open to listening.

"Fine," you grumble, crossing your arms. "What do you want?"

"For you to get some rest," he says. You frown, and he holds up a hand, his expression shifting to a stern look. "Sir, you've been up for 16 hours.”

“I haven’t—“

“I’ve been keeping track," he tells you, cutting you off. "And as much as I enjoy your company, the men need you well-rested and alert. Not half-dead and sleep deprived."

Your jaw clenches, the urge to argue rising, but you force it back down. You know he's right, and the fact that he's willing to call you out on it, no matter how gently, is a testament to his character. And as much as you hate to admit it, you can feel the fatigue beginning to creep in, the desire to curl up and hide tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

You give a small sigh, and he flashes you a smile.

"Alright," you relent. "I'll turn in."

You stand and stretch, letting out a soft groan. Your spine pops, and you roll your shoulders, working the kinks out of your neck. You can't help but feel a little embarrassed by the fact that Booker has been keeping tabs on your habits, and while part of you wants to call him out for it, the other part of you is grateful for the concern. And you suppose that a man who's always looking out for his brothers will most likely be just as vigilant about looking out for his superior officers. Just as Rex was. Is. Will be.

The thought of the Captain sends a stab of pain through your chest, and you grimace, forcing the memory aside.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else?" you ask. You gesture towards the datapad on the table. "There's still a lot we have to go through."

"I'm sure. Besides, I'd rather you be well-rested for drills tomorrow."

You frown, the comment catching you off guard. "Drills? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he says as he stands and walks around the table, stopping beside you. "Figured it'd be a good idea. Get a feel for the men. See how they perform."

"I don't—"

"You're their commanding officer, sir," he interrupts, and he rests a hand on your shoulder. "You need to know what they're capable of. So do I. And the best way to find out is by putting them through their paces. That way, we can make sure they're prepared."

His tone is light, almost teasing, but his words are serious, and there's a glint in his eye that leaves no room for argument. And as much as you want to protest, the truth is that he's right. You need to see the men in action, to test their abilities. To see where their strengths and weaknesses lie. And the only way to do that is by testing them yourself.

You let out a resigned sigh and offer a small, grateful smile.

"I guess I'm gonna need to get some rest, huh?"

"That's the plan," Booker says. His hand slides off your shoulder, and he reaches over, picking up the datapad. "C’mon. I’ll walk you back to your quarters."

The two of you start down the hall, and Booker continues to fill you in on the details, his words fading into the background as your mind starts to drift. You're barely listening, and the only thing you can focus on is the gentle rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps beside you.

He seems different somehow, a little more serious, a little more thoughtful. You can tell the reality of command is settling over him, and while you're sure he's struggling with the responsibility, you can't help but be impressed by his composure. It's as if his personality has shifted, the uncertain, reckless cadet morphing into a more serious, responsible soldier. He's taking his role seriously, and the thought is comforting.

As the two of you round the corner, your comm chimes, the sudden sound making you jump. You stop and pull the device out, checking the message.

Rex: Hey. How's it going?

Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the screen. Then, with a sharp breath, you type out a response, your fingers flying across the keys.

You: Good. Busy. Tired. But good. You?

Rex’s answer comes almost immediately.

Rex: Same. Glad to hear it's going well.

There's a pause, and a new message appears.

Rex: Can we talk?

Your heart leaps into your throat, and a flood of emotions wash over you. Excitement, anxiety, fear, anticipation, they all crash over you, a tidal wave threatening to drown you.

You type out a response, hesitating before hitting send.

You: Of course.

Another message pops up.

Rex: Comm me in 15 minutes. Don't forget.

You let out a quiet laugh, and you glance up, realizing Booker is staring at you, a small smile on his face. You flush, embarrassed, and you slide the comm back into your pocket, clearing your throat.

"Sorry," you mutter. "That was a friend."

"A friend, huh?" Booker asks, his tone teasing.

"Yes, a friend," you reply, giving him a sharp look.

"Well, your friend should have waited until morning," he tells you. "You need rest."

"He knows," you say, your voice softer than intended. Booker raises an eyebrow, and he glances at the pocket where your comm is sitting. Then his expression changes, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Ah," he says. "I get it."

You feel your cheeks burn, and you turn, continuing down the hall. He's following, his strides long and easy. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, and the urge to snap at him is strong. But the truth is, you don't have the energy, and you're too focused on the promise of speaking with Rex to care.

You turn down another corridor, and Booker falls back into step beside you. He’s still watching you, but he doesn't speak, and you're thankful for the respite. You need a few moments to compose yourself, to collect your thoughts, to calm the flurry of emotions running rampant through your body.

Finally, you come to a stop in front of the door leading to your quarters, and you turn, looking up at him.

"Thank you," you tell him, your tone sincere. He grins, and he gives a slight nod.

"You're welcome, sir," he says. "Get some rest. Try not to stay up too late."

"What—"

Booker turns on his heel, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Have a good night, sir. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Before you can respond, he's gone, disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the empty hallway. For a moment, all you can do is stare, and it's only the sudden chime of the chronometer that snaps you out of it. You pull the comm out of your pocket and unlock the door, stepping into your quarters and typing a quick message.

You: I'm here. Are you ready?

A response appears a few seconds later.

Rex: Whenever you are.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart, and you tap the button on the screen, connecting the call. There's a second of static, and then the sound of Rex's voice fills the room, his tone warm and familiar.

"Hi."

The single word is enough to make you smile, and you settle on the edge of your bed, taking a moment to steady yourself.

"Hey," you say. "It's good to hear your voice."

"You too," he replies. There's a slight hesitation, and you can hear the sound of him taking a breath. Then, a hint of worry in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," you reply. You let out a quiet laugh. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You've been busy," he replies. There's another pause, and the air shifts, a feeling of apprehension falling over the conversation. "I didn't want to interrupt. Thought you might be getting tired of hearing from me."

"I'm never tired of hearing from you," you tell him, and the words are out of your mouth before you realize what you're saying. You blush, heat spreading across your face, and you're glad he can't see you. "I mean...it's nice. Talking to you."

You wince at the words, a flash of embarrassment rushing through you. That didn't come out right, either. You've barely said anything and you've already made a mess of things. And if the awkward silence coming from the comm is any indication, he's not taking it well.

But as the moment stretches, a spark of frustration ignites inside of you. It's not as if anything has changed between the two of you. Yes, the conversation is a bit uncomfortable, but that's only because you're trying so hard to keep things platonic. If you'd simply act natural, relax, let the conversation flow naturally, it wouldn't be so hard.

You take a deep breath and let the annoyance fade, replacing it with determination. You're not going to let this become a barrier between the two of you. If he can talk to you as a friend, so can you. And if that's all you can be, well, that's fine.

Besides, there's no reason why the two of you can't enjoy each other's company. Even if it's not quite what you want, even if it's not the kind of relationship you crave, the time spent together is still meaningful. It still matters. It's still something that brings you both comfort and joy.

And if the friendship is enough, well, that's better than nothing.

"I agree," Rex says, breaking the silence. His voice is gentle, and you can almost hear the smile in his words. "Even if you do sound tired."

You roll your eyes, letting out a scoff as you lean down and start to undo the buckles on your boots. "I'm not that tired."

"Sure," he drawls.

"I'm not," you reply, a slight note of indignation in your voice.

"Then why are you taking off your boots?"

You pause, caught off guard by the question. "How did—?"

"I can hear the buckles," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's pretty loud."

You let out a quiet sigh, your cheeks burning, and you set your boots aside. Your armor comes next, then your belt and tabards. The weight disappears from your shoulders, and you lean back, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"Alright, maybe I'm a little tired," you admit. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the mattress against your back.

"Just a little," he teases.

"Shut up," you mumble, a small grin on your face. "You know you're just as bad."

"I never claimed otherwise," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "How're things? The new legion treating you well?"

You close your eyes and let out a quiet hum, shifting into a more comfortable position. You can hear the concern in his voice, and you're glad that he's checking up on you. Even if it's for a brief moment.

"They're great," you answer, your voice soft. "A little eager, but that's expected. We're working through it."

Rex chuckles. "Sounds about right. Give 'em a few weeks. They'll figure it out."

"I hope so," you reply.

There's a moment of silence, and you find yourself drifting, the warmth and safety of your quarters lulling you into a sense of comfort. You yawn, your body sinking deeper into the bed, the weariness of the past few days beginning to catch up to you. You know you should get ready for bed, should take a shower and brush your teeth and change into something more comfortable, but the thought of moving is too exhausting.

"I can let you go, if you want," Rex offers, and the hint of reluctance in his voice makes you smile. "I know you're tired."

"No, I'm fine," you say. You open your eyes, blinking away the fatigue. "I'd rather talk to you. Even if I'm half-asleep."

Rex lets out a soft chuckle. "That doesn't bode well for the conversation."

"Doesn't matter," you murmur. "I like talking to you."

There's a pause, and you can practically hear the surprise in his voice. "Yeah?"

You let out a snort, and you roll onto your side, pulling the blanket up over yourself. "Yes, Rex, I like talking to you. A lot."

The admission leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you're suddenly grateful that he can't see the blush that spreads across your face. You wince, the embarrassment hitting you full force. Maybe the lack of sleep is affecting you more than you thought. You should have kept your mouth shut. At least until you weren't half-delirious.

"I like talking to you too," Rex replies, his voice soft.

"Good," you say. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, settling in. "Then let's talk. Tell me how the 501st is doing."

Rex begins to tell you about the men, his voice low and soothing. The new men he picked up on Kamino, his concerns about their training, the adjustments he's made to the command structure. He keeps the details light, avoiding anything too technical, and his words drift through the room, lulling you into a drowsy, contented state.

After a while, he trails off, and a moment of silence settles over the call.

"Are you still awake?"

"Mhm," you murmur, the sound muffled by the pillow. "Just resting my eyes."

"Right," he says, the doubt in his voice apparent. There's another pause, and you can hear him shift, his breath catching slightly. "Do you... do you mind if I keep talking?"

You give a slight shake of your head. "No, not at all."

"Alright," he says. Another pause, and the hesitance is back. As if he's worried about saying something wrong. Something that will break the spell. "I don't want to keep you up."

"I'm listening," you assure him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, and he falls silent. For a moment, you wonder if the call has dropped, or if the connection is bad, or if the battery on his comm has died. But just as the thought enters your mind, his voice cuts through the darkness, soft and gentle.

"I've missed you," he admits. "More than I expected."

Your chest tightens, and you open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It's strange, how a few words can cause such a visceral reaction, but the feeling is undeniable. It's as if a part of you is waking up, stretching, reaching for something.

It's only been a few days since you've seen him, but the longing is already setting in. The need to see his face. Hear his voice. Feel his presence. It's a need that grows stronger with every passing moment.

"I've missed you too," you reply, your voice a whisper. "More than I probably should."

Rex lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah."

There's another moment of silence, and you find yourself drifting, your thoughts beginning to slow. It's only the sound of his voice that keeps you from falling asleep, and you can't help but wonder if he's doing the same. If he's staying awake just to listen to the sound of your breathing.

"Are you still with me?" he asks.

"Yeah," you mumble, turning onto your side. You adjust the pillow, propping it up, and curl onto your side, hugging the soft fabric. You can feel sleep starting to claim you, and you're not sure how long you'll be able to fight it. "I'm here."

"You should get some sleep," he says, his voice gentle. "You're gonna need it."

You hum softly, closing your eyes and letting the darkness consume you. "Only if you promise to stay with me. Until I fall asleep."

There's a brief pause, and a wave of self-consciousness rushes through you. But before the doubt can take root, he speaks.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, his voice warm. You can hear the smile in his words, and the tightness in your chest loosens, a feeling of calm washing over you. "Close your eyes. Get comfortable."

You let out a quiet hum and obey, snuggling deeper into the blankets, pulling the sheets up around your shoulders. You can hear the soft sound of his breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He's lying in bed too, just as tired and worn out as you are, his comm tucked under his ear.

For a moment, neither of you speak, and the quiet that surrounds you is comforting, a blanket of calm settling over the room. It's nice, being able to simply exist, to be alone with each other, no words needed. And while it's not exactly the same as being in the same place, being in the same bed, it's enough. For now.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a low rumble. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"Do you think..." He trails off, his words fading. You open your eyes and peer at the comm, waiting for him to continue. When he does, his voice is hesitant. "Do you think the war will ever end?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink, trying to process his words. In truth, you're not sure if the war will ever end. There's a part of you that hopes so, a part of you that wants peace more than anything, but there's a darker, more cynical part of you that's beginning to doubt it. That's beginning to wonder if the fighting will ever end. Or if the galaxy will be trapped in a never-ending cycle of war and destruction.

You let out a small sigh, closing your eyes once more.

"I don't know," you murmur. "But I hope so."

"Yeah," Rex replies, his tone distant. "Me too."

There's a brief silence, and you can hear the sound of fabric shifting. You imagine him rolling onto his side, adjusting his blankets, getting comfortable. Then he clears his throat, his voice barely audible.

"If it does end, though, I..." He trails off, and a slight note of uncertainty creeps into his tone. "I mean, will we...?"

He doesn't finish, and the question hangs in the air, unspoken. Will we still see each other? Will we stay friends? Will we still talk? Will we still care about each other? The thoughts race through your mind, and a knot forms in your stomach, the possibilities making you dizzy. You can't bear the thought of losing him, of losing what you have, and the mere idea of him not being a part of your life makes your chest ache.

The truth is, you need him. You need him in a way that's different from anyone else. A way that's beyond the platonic, beyond the physical, beyond the romantic. You need him because he understands you. He sees you. And the thought of being without him, of not having him by your side, of not hearing his voice, is too much to bear.

The reality of it is enough to snap you out of your stupor, and a rush of courage flows through you.

"I hope so," you whisper, the words barely audible. "I want us to."

A soft laugh escapes him, and you can almost hear the relief in his voice.

"Good," he murmurs. "So do I."

"Good," you sigh. You close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to finally pull you under, and the sound of his breathing washes over you, carrying you deeper into the darkness.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, how long the call lasts, or if he even stays awake. But the last thing you remember before the blackness claims you is the gentle hum of his voice, the quiet, steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

Your comm is still on when you wake in the morning. It lies face up on your pillow, and when you check it, the screen is still active, the call still connected. You smile and bring the device closer, and when you hear the sound of a soft snore, your heart stutters. He's still there. He stayed.

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, staring at the comm, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Then, as carefully as possible, you tap the button on the side, disconnecting the call. The screen goes dark, and the sound cuts off, leaving you alone in the silence.

You set the comm aside, and as you climb out of bed, you can't help but wonder how many more moments like this you'll get to have. How many more late-night calls, how many more stolen hours. How many more nights spent curled up next to the comm, his voice filling the air.

You know the answer, and it's not a pleasant one. You're going to be on the front lines, constantly in motion, constantly fighting. And if the war drags on, as it seems likely to, the two of you will be spread apart, the distance between you increasing exponentially. And even if somehow the universe sees fit to grant the two of you a respite, there's no guarantee that it will last. No guarantee that it will allow you the chance to truly enjoy each other's company.

You stand, shaking the thoughts away. It doesn't matter. What's done is done. And whatever happens, whatever the future holds, the two of you will make it work. You have to. Because the alternative is too painful to contemplate.

And if the only time the two of you can spend together is in the form of a few stolen moments, a few late-night conversations, a few whispered words, well, that's better than nothing.

With a sigh, you haul yourself out of bed, determined to start the day with a clean slate. It's going to be a long one, and the last thing you need is to let the negativity consume you. So, you push the doubts and fears and worries aside and get dressed, the familiar routine calming your nerves.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, and a quick trip to the mess hall, you make your way to the hangar. There’s a commotion as the troops work together to clear out the space, and a flurry of activity fills the air, the sound of metal boots echoing throughout the room.

Booker is standing near the entrance, a datapad in hand. Like most of the men, he’s dressed in the lower half of his armor, leaving the black undersuit visible. He glances up as you approach, and a grin spreads across his face, his eyes bright.

"Good morning, sir," he greets, his voice loud enough to be heard over the din.

"Good morning," you reply, and you give him a tired smile. "You're chipper today."

He laughs and sets the datapad on a nearby crate, crossing his arms. "I'm always chipper, sir. Just like you're always grumpy."

You glare at him, but the look only makes him laugh.

"C'mon," he says, jerking his head towards the open space. "We're ready to go."

You follow him across the hangar, weaving through the sea of troopers, and a moment later, the two of you are standing in the middle of the room, the men forming a large circle around you. There's a hush as the group gathers, and Booker turns, addressing the troops.

"Listen up!" he calls, his voice booming through the room. The men immediately straighten, their attention focused on the pair of you. "Today, we'll be conducting drills. Hand-to-hand combat and weapons training."

You step forward, and you raise your voice, addressing the men. "I know most of you have had basic training, but today will be different. Today, I want to see what you can do. Who has the fastest reaction times. Who has the best accuracy. Who can take a hit and keep going. We'll go through each of the weapons, and we'll spar. Everyone. Even me."

You pause, allowing the men to absorb your words.

"It's important that you're well-prepared," you continue. "Because once we reach the battlefield, there's no room for error. Every second, every movement, counts. So, let's get to work."

The men immediately scramble to various stations, grabbing blasters and helmets and other equipment. You watch as they work together, passing gear between each other. They're efficient and organized, and the sight is enough to ease some of the pressure. At least you know these men will be able to handle themselves.

After a few minutes, everyone is suited up, and the hangar is filled with the hum of blasters and the sound of shouting. You glance at Booker, and you share a knowing smile. Then, without another word, the two of you move, heading towards the nearest station.

It's a good three hours before the first break is called, and by the time it is, the entire hangar is hot and sweaty and exhausted. The men gather around, their chests heaving, their faces covered in grime. And, while some are showing signs of weariness, most are smiling and joking with each other, their spirits high.

You're leaning against the wall, sipping water and watching the troops, and Booker is sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting behind his head. The two of you watch as a few soldiers begin to spar, and the rest gather around, cheering them on.

"They're doing well," Booker observes, his voice soft.

You nod, watching as a trooper manages to land a kick, sending his opponent staggering. The sound of their laughter fills the air, and you can't help but smile.

"Yeah," you agree. "They're a good group."

The two of you fall silent, and you find yourself thinking about Rex, wondering how his men are doing. Wondering how he's doing. The image of his face, the soft sound of his voice, fills your mind, and the memory is enough to send a warm tingle down your spine.

"So," Booker begins, pulling you from your thoughts. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow, and he gives you a look. "Still regretting that promotion?"

You roll your eyes and turn, leaning against the wall and crossing your arms. You stare at the floor as you consider his question. After a moment, you give a slight shake of your head, letting out a quiet laugh.

"No," you admit. "Not anymore."

Booker smiles, his eyes sparkling. "Good."

The larger of the two clones lands a solid hit, sending his opponent to the ground, and you wince at the sound of impact. But the men are laughing, and a few seconds later, they're helping their fallen comrade to his feet, clapping him on the back. Blood streams from his nose, but he doesn't seem to care, a wide grin on his face as one of the men steps forward and ruffles his hair.

"Is that Dash?" you ask, pointing at the clone with the bloodied face. Booker glances over, and his expression softens.

"Yeah," he replies. "That's him."

The clone looks over at the sound of his name, and his face lights up, a wide smile spreading across his face. He raises a hand in a wave, and you give a small nod, acknowledging the gesture. You'd forgotten how young he was. You hadn't seen him since the battle of Kamino, and the memory of him standing before you, his hands twisting nervously, is suddenly fresh in your mind. He's taller now, more confident, but there's still a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

"How's he doing?" you murmur to Booker, turning your head so that the men can't see your lips move.

"He's good," Booker answers, his voice low. "He's got a lot of potential."

You nod, watching as Dash takes a few steps forward, stopping in front of the two of you. The rest of the men disperse, returning to their sparring and their shooting, and the three of you are left alone.

Dash's smile is a little less enthusiastic now, and a light flush creeps across his face. He stands awkwardly, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet shifting nervously.

"General," he greets, giving a slight nod. "It's an honor."

"How are you, Dash?" you ask, keeping your tone friendly.

"I'm good, sir," he replies. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and it comes away smeared with blood. "You?"

You give him a smile, trying to hide the concern on your face. "I'm fine. Are you alright? Your nose is bleeding."

Dash blinks, seemingly surprised, and he brings his hand up, pressing a finger to his nose. It comes away red, and he glances at his hand with a frown. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and after a moment, he simply shrugs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, looking embarrassed.

"Hey," Booker cuts in. "Why don't you take a seat?"

He pats the spot next to him, and Dash nods, sinking to the floor. You settle beside him, your back against the wall, and you hand him a towel. He takes it gratefully, pressing the cloth to his nose.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice muffled.

"No problem," you tell him. You glance at his face, studying the injury. His nose isn't broken, and the bleeding has slowed, but the bruise is already starting to form. "Who were you fighting?"

"Screwball," Dash answers, gesturing to the clone. The man in question is currently sparring with another trooper, and the two of them are locked in a fierce battle. You watch, impressed, as Screwball manages to knock his opponent's feet out from under him, and a few seconds later, the soldier is on his back, the larger clone straddling his chest.

Dash lets out a snort, and he shakes his head.

"That was fast," he mutters. "He's good."

"He is," you agree, your eyes never leaving the fight. Screwball has managed to pin his opponent, and he's using his weight to his advantage, holding the man in place. After a moment, the soldier slumps, signaling his surrender, and Screwball leaps to his feet, a broad grin on his face.

"You're not so bad, yourself," you add, glancing at Dash. He meets your gaze, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You held your own."

His cheeks turn a deep red, and he ducks his head, a soft laugh escaping him. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder, and his blush darkens.

"Thanks, sir," he mumbles.

"Just telling the truth," you say, shrugging. "You're leaving yourself open, though."

Dash's eyebrows furrow, and he turns his attention to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Your left side," you explain. "You're leaving it open. If your opponent is fast enough, they'll be able to get a shot in. Like this."

You swing your leg out, and the tip of your boot connects with his ribs. It's a gentle kick, but he flinches, hissing in pain. He doubles over, clutching his side, and you offer an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," you say. "I didn't mean to hit that hard."

"It's fine," Dash says, his voice strained.

"Try again," you instruct, getting to your feet. Dash takes a deep breath, and he rolls his shoulders, shaking out his limbs. He plants his feet, his fists clenched, and he squares his shoulders, ready for the next blow. You take a step back, and you swing your leg, aiming for his right side this time.

He doesn't flinch, and he's able to block the kick, his forearm connecting with your shin. He grunts, and you grin, impressed.

"Good," you tell him, taking a step back. "Better. Now, try the same thing, but switch sides."

He nods, and he plants his feet again, his arms held loosely at his sides. This time, he's quicker, and he's able to deflect your kick, his hand coming up and grabbing your ankle. You yelp as he twists, yanking your foot off the ground, though the maneuver doesn't catch you off guard. You let your body fall, landing on the ground, and you twist your leg, freeing yourself from his grasp.

You leap back to your feet, and the two of you begin a series of kicks and blocks, your bodies moving in sync. The other troopers stop to watch, and a few of them begin cheering, encouraging Dash to keep going. After a few minutes, you slow, and the two of you circle each other, panting. Dash's nose has stopped bleeding, and his eyes are bright, a wild grin on his face.

"Not bad," you pant, a smile on your own face.

"Not bad?" Dash echoes. "I think I won."

"In your dreams," you scoff. You wipe the sweat from your forehead, and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. "Again. You're still leaving yourself open."

Dash frowns, and he glances down, studying his posture. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and after a moment, his expression changes, his face brightening. He moves his left arm, tucking it behind his back, and he takes a defensive stance, his hands up.

"Like this?" he asks, his eyes shining.

"Exactly," you reply, a note of approval in your tone. "Now, try blocking me again."

He nods, and you lunge, swinging your leg. His arm snaps up, and he blocks the kick, a loud grunt escaping him. You pull your foot back, and he takes a step forward, his arms raised. The two of you continue the exercise, blocking and dodging, until finally, you decide to end the fight with a final move. 

You feint, and Dash reacts, his eyes narrowing. He blocks your kick, but his guard is down, and you take advantage, grabbing his arm and yanking him off-balance. He lets out a startled yelp as you twist, using your momentum to pull him over your shoulder, and a second later, he's on his back, blinking up at you. 

The room erupts into cheers, and you extend a hand, helping him to his feet. His face is flushed, but his eyes are bright, and he grins, shaking his head.

"Wow," he says, a little breathless. "You're fast."

"So are you," you reply. You dust your hands off and give him a wink. "Keep practicing, and you might actually stand a chance against me."

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks still pink.

"I'll do my best, sir," he promises.

"Good," you tell him. You glance around, and a small crowd has formed, the men watching the two of you. You raise your voice, addressing the group. "Alright, everyone! Back to work! Let's go!"

The men scatter, and the two of you watch as they return to their training, the hangar filled with the sound of their voices and their laughter. Dash turns too, but Booker catches his arm, holding him in place as another clone emerges from the group, striding towards the three of you. You recognize Wise instantly by the sour look on his face, and you can't help but smirk.

You'd been more than a little surprised to learn that Wise had volunteered to be the chief medic of the 419th Brigade. Not that you doubted his abilities. He'd certainly shown his worth as a skilled healer, his knowledge of anatomy and physiology rivaling that of the Kaminoans, but a part of you had assumed Kamino would want to keep him. It wasn't every day a clone with his talents walked out of the facility.

Yet, here he was. And for some reason, his presence made you feel better. Like maybe if he was here, it meant something. Like maybe you weren't completely screwed.

"You okay, Wise?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Wise shoots you a glare, and he crosses his arms, his expression sour.

"This place is a goddamn zoo," he grumbles. He points at Dash's face, the blood still visible despite the attempt to wipe it away. "What happened to you?"

Dash shrugs. "Sparring."

Wise snorts derisively, and he reaches out, grabbing Dash by the chin. He tilts the clone's head to the side, examining the wound, and his eyes narrow.

"I told you not to do anything stupid," he grumbles.

Dash grins and shrugs again, clearly not bothered by Wise's scolding.

"It was a good fight," he replies, a slight note of pride in his voice. "I learned a lot."

Wise rolls his eyes and releases his hold on the younger clone. He turns to you, giving you a slight nod, and you raise an eyebrow, surprised by his show of respect.

"General," he says. His voice is gruff, and there's a hint of hesitation in his tone. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

Your eyebrows furrow, and you exchange a confused glance with Booker.

"Sure," you reply, turning your attention to the medic. He jerks his head towards the far side of the hangar, and the two of you start walking, leaving Booker and Dash behind.

As soon as the two of you are out of earshot, Wise stops, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I wanted to apologize," he says, his tone low.

"For what?"

"For the way I treated you," he answers, meeting your gaze. His eyes are filled with regret, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. "Back on Kamino."

You blink, taken aback by his admission. It's not as if you were a stranger to rude behavior, and compared to what you'd endured and dished out over your lifetime, Wise's attitude had barely registered. If anything, it had been a bit refreshing. The fact that he felt the need to apologize, however, is unexpected.

You study his expression, searching for a hint of sarcasm, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. There isn't any.

"It's fine," you assure him. "I didn't exactly make a great first impression, either."

He lets out a huff of air, and he gives a small shake of his head.

"Yeah, well," he mutters. "You're the General. It wasn't my place."

There's a long pause, and you lean against the wall, watching as the troops begin their exercises once more. You can feel his eyes on you, and after a moment, you turn, meeting his gaze.

"How did you end up here, anyway?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Wise snorts and leans beside you, crossing his arms across his chest and resting his back against the wall. He lets out a short sigh, and his gaze falls, focusing on the floor.

"The longnecks weren't thrilled," he admits, his voice low. "But they didn't really have a choice. Commander Booker and Captain Rex had spoken on my behalf, and the GAR had approved my transfer."

"And you're okay with that?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug, his expression thoughtful.

"It's better than scrubbing floors and being under constant surveillance," he says. He shoots a glance in your direction, and his lips twitch. "And as far as generals go, you're not so bad."

You can't help but laugh, and you nudge him gently.

"Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence," you reply, grinning. You tilt your head, giving him a playful look. "So, we're friends now, right?"

Wise scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile creeps across his face.

"Hardly," he mutters, and he turns, his eyes scanning the hangar. He clears his throat, his voice returning to its usual gruffness. "Now, get back to work, General. Some of us have actual things to do."

Wise pushes away from the wall, heading back towards Dash and Booker, and you follow, the two of you falling into step. As the distance between the group and yourselves lessens, the medic's demeanor shifts, and his usual scowl is firmly in place. Dash seems immune to the effect of his glare, too focused on the conversation he's having with Booker. A conversation that, judging by the blush on his cheeks, seems to involve you.

"Green is good, but I think she would look better in yellow," Dash says, his voice hushed. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, kid," Booker replies. "I'm not sure if yellow is her color."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?" Dash glances over, catching sight of Wise, and he grins. "Hey, Wise, what color would you say the General looks best in?"

"Don't drag me into this," Wise grumbles. He comes to a stop beside the pair, and his gaze lands on you. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking him the question, and his expression is completely deadpan. "Yellow."

He gives a short nod to you and Booker, his gaze lingering for a moment, before striding past, disappearing into the sea of troops. You watch him go, unable to hide the smirk on your face, and Booker's expression is one of pure shock. Dash, meanwhile, looks pleased. Very, very pleased.

"Um..." he begins. He clears his throat, and his eyes dart to Booker, his expression hopeful. "Commander?"

Booker blinks, and his lips twitch. He claps Dash on the shoulder, and the younger clone nearly buckles, a sharp gasp escaping him.

"Dash thinks our color should be yellow," he announces, and Dash lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. You raise an eyebrow, and Booker gives a noncommittal shrug. "Personally, I think it's a little bright, but..."

"Yellow's not bad," you concede, glancing around the hangar. Anything would be better than the white and gray you were currently surrounded by. "We could probably do with a little color around here."

Dash studies you for a few moments longer, and his eyes light up, a broad grin splitting his face. He turns on his heel and rushes to the nearest trooper, and he begins speaking rapidly, pointing in your direction. The soldier nods, and a moment later, he's jogging off, disappearing into the crowd.

"What are they doing?" you ask, glancing at Booker.

"Not sure," he replies. "But I'm guessing the kid's got an idea."

The two of you watch as Dash speaks to another clone, this one older and taller. After a brief conversation, the man nods, and the pair begin making their way through the hangar, stopping in front of various squads. They speak to the soldiers, gesturing towards you, and a few minutes later, the men begin nodding, some of them even laughing. When Dash is finished, he hurries back towards you, his eyes shining.

"Well?" you ask, and he flashes a broad grin.

"It's settled, sir," he announces, his chest puffed out.

"Oh?"

"Gold," he replies. He nods, as if agreeing with his own words. "Definitely gold."

A surprised laugh escapes you. The Force must be playing a trick on you. There was no other explanation for it. Because it seemed that, somehow, the universe had aligned itself to bring the clones of the 419th together, all for the sole purpose of giving you a headache.

"Gold," you repeat, and Dash nods, a slight look of concern on his face.

"Yes, sir," he says, his voice quiet. "Is that...is that alright?"

"Why?" you ask, unable to keep the incredulity out of your tone. "Where did you get the idea?"

"It's because of your lightsaber," Dash tells you. He points at your waist, and your gaze drifts down to the weapon attached to your belt. "It's yellow. Or gold, really. We should match."

"My lightsaber?" you echo, staring at him. His cheeks flush, and he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, yeah," he mutters. He drops his hand, and his eyes land on your saber. "The way it lights up the room...it's like...it's like it's filled with the sun itself."

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Instead, you stand there, stunned, an unexpected swell of emotion rising within you. You don't know why, but his words, his sentiment, touches you. In a way you never would've imagined.

It's a strange feeling. You're not used to it, and you're not entirely sure how to process it. No one has ever compared your lightsaber to the sun before. Your yellow blade is one more thing that's different from most other Jedi. Another piece of evidence to mark you as an outsider. For Dash to see something else, something unique and special, is...nice. Nice and unexpected.

"Okay," you say softly, giving him a small smile. "Gold it is."

A few of the men let out cheers, and Booker claps his hands, raising his voice.

"Alright," he calls. "Back to work!"

The troopers scatter, and the noise level in the hangar returns to normal, the sound of laughter and friendly banter filling the air. Booker gives a satisfied nod before he turns to you, his expression serious.

"You okay?" he asks, lowering his voice. "You look like you're about to cry."

You glare at him, though the effect is lost. There's a stinging in your eyes that you can't quite shake, and you turn your head, pretending to study the troops. You take a deep breath, pushing the feelings aside, and a few seconds later, you manage to regain control.

"I'm fine," you reply, a hint of annoyance in your tone. You turn back to Booker, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. You roll your eyes. "And I don't cry."

He snorts and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the men. The two of you stand in companionable silence, watching as the squad leaders guide their troops through the motions. A short distance away, Dash is practicing his sparring skills with Screwball, a smile on his face.

After a while, you glance at Booker, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I think we'll be alright," you murmur.

Booker's gaze remains focused on the men, but his expression softens, and the corner of his mouth curves upward.

"Yeah," he agrees, and he nudges you gently. "We will."

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[tiny-maus-boots]

A/N: i know its been so long! I'm sorry! I hope anyone still is waiting enjoys! Also as always thank you thank you thank you to @chloes-yellow-cup and @kimmania for always encouraging the wording. I love you awesome nerds.

Beca

“Now I've never played dress up before but I'm pretty sure it actually involves putting on clothes at some point…”

Not that she was complaining at all. Beca was firmly of the belief that a no clothes rule should definitely be enforced. Chloe trailed a fingertip down her spine as she circled around the necromancer. It made Beca’s knees weak and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound that would likely embarrass herself for all eternity.

Which could potentially be a thing when dealing with vampires. She wasn't yet sure how that worked exactly. She knew something was different about her now. And she wanted a second to process and explore the newness but what with the trauma, and the drama and the imminent doom, and all the sexy times it just didn't fit into her busy schedule.

��Just trying to decide what would look best on you.”

“Considering everything you pick out ends up on the floor I'm thinking you might not be the best judge.”

“It’s not my fault you look best naked in our bed, Beca.”

There it was again. Our. Beca tried to fight the smile that crept across her face but gave up when the cool length of Chloe’s body pressed against her back and arms wrapped around her.

“This is different when you're not using me to bait Aubrey into feeding.”

Chloe hesitated a moment before she dipped her head to brush a soft kiss over her bite mark. The brunette’s knees finally gave out on her and she probably would have collapsed into a puddle of Beca on the floor had Chloe's arms not been wrapped so securely around her.

“I can never express how deeply I regret the way that played out. I hadn't ever meant for her to feed on you, I just needed her to wake up and save you. Save all of us.”

“It’s okay, I don't mind taking one for the team on this. It was the right thing to do. Plus…I kinda liked it. Which makes me question all kinds of things about myself now so that's fun times to unpack.”

Chloe’s eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement and Beca had to blink past the heart eyes she knew she was giving. She cleared her throat and pointedly kept the vampire’s hands from roaming. If she let Chloe get handsy now Beca would happily let the world burn around them.

Chloe pouted at not being allowed to explore Beca’s lithe body. ”You’re no fun.”

”I’m fun. I can be lots of fun. I can fun your ass off. But also we kinda sorta have a rebellion to execute and an ancient vampire to heal. It’s the pits but on the other hand freedom is pretty amazing.”

”Chloe…are you certain this is in fashion? I know things have changed but this seems an obscene amount of exposed flesh.”

”I’m standing here almost naked and she’s the one complaining about being exposed?”

Chloe chuckled softly in her ear which helped her hormonal issue be exactly zero percent better. Beca lightly slapped at the vampire’s grip and extricated herself entirely so she could sift through the pile of discards for something she liked.

“Let’s see it Aubrey.”

”If you’re sure…”

They both turned as Aubrey stepped out of the closet in a dark red deep V halter dress that was slit to the hip on each side. She was bare from neck to navel and hip to ankle. Whatever article of clothing Beca had been holding fell from her suddenly numb fingers.

”Boobalas…” Beca’s eyes zeroed in on said target instinctively.

Aubrey looked down and covered her chest with her hands in an attempt at modesty. Chloe’s fangs lengthened and she stepped forward to gently tug blonde’s hands down.

”Oh I’m very sure about you in this dress. But you should take it off. For comparison reasons.”

Aubrey gave the redhead an exasperated look and turned toward the full length mirror with a critical eye. She turned back with a slight flourish and nervously fussed with the gauzy front panel of the dress.

“What do you think, Beca? Should I change?”

”I love leg.” Truthfully she loved everything Aubrey was showing off. “Chloe’s right, you should take it off and we should get in bed. Doesn’t have to be in that order of events.”

”You two…thank you. But we have work to do.” She let her own gaze drift over Beca’s mostly naked body and smirked. “I like your outfit.”

”Yeah I’m really rocking the wanton hussy sex slave vibe. But I still fail to see how this will help us in any way.”

Chloe held out a pair of tight low slung leather pants and a matching vest for her. Beca hummed a soft approving noise and held the pants up to her waist. They were more her style than anything else she had tried previously and she wondered how long Chloe had that outfit in mind for her despite making her try on everything else.

“Did you save these for last so you could watch me undressing?”

Chloe gave her an impish grin and shrugged innocently.

“It’s important because everything we do, say, and even wear means something. Aubrey isn’t dressed in fighting leathers, her heart is exposed. This says she either trusts the company she is in or she doesn’t view them as a threat. It will be the same with you exposing your neck and arms. I too will wear something revealing by vampire standards to show solidarity and unity with you both.”

”So it’s a power play?”

”Partially. Also it’s just hot. Very very hot.”

”So what are you wearing?”

”You’ll see.”

It intrigued Beca and she made a small sound of interest when Chloe ducked into the closet to change.

“Okay then. So question, what do we do if the Great Clans don’t want to join our Country Jamboree?”

Aubrey looked helplessly at the pile of makeup on Chloe’s vanity. She picked up a jar and sniffed tentatively at the contents before pushing it aside and picking up something else.

“Face paints have come a long way, I hardly know where to begin.”

“Yeah they no longer contain lead, wild concept, right?”

Beca smiled softly at the scene before moving closer to help. She had difficulty remembering that the vampire was still learning to adapt to modern times when she seemed so confident about who she was. But times like these, where she was unsure and vulnerable…they hit Beca right in the feels.

”Don’t worry. I got’chu, Horny.”

It was oddly intimate, applying makeup on Aubrey. It made it hard not to lean forward and kiss her and keep kissing her. Which would completely undo the work she was trying to do. Luckily Aubrey picked up the conversation as she sat patiently for Beca.

”In answer to your question, I don’t think it will come to that. They come here in search of their queen. They will follow you where you lead.”

Beca paused in the process of applying. She knew they were coming here to defend and protect her but it didn’t seem real. So much of her life had been solitary and not by choice. And now people she never met were riding to her rescue. What if some of them had doubts? What if some of them were as scared of her as the vampires were?

”Yeah…but what if they don’t?”

”It doesn’t matter if they don’t. I will follow you, Beca.”

Having the support of the queen of the vampires. What an insane thought. Beca put down the lip liner slowly and gently bumped foreheads with Aubrey.

”As will I and the rest of the free vampire nation.”

Beca and Aubrey turned at the sound of Chloe’s voice and froze. Chloe looked ethereal in a strapless deep blue gown of layered gauze embroidered with a delicate pattern of silver vines. She looked like an actual princess and Beca was robbed of the ability to speak.

”Well?”

”Wow…”

”Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”

“That’s a you look amazing wow. You look like a princess.”

Aubrey was too silent and Beca glanced at her trying to gauge her reaction to Chloe’s dress. Chloe smoothed the front of her dress nervously at the blonde's lack of response.

“You're starting to worry me, Bree. Is…is my dress not…”

“It’s perfect. You Chloe, are perfect. In every way.”

There was a soft look shared between them that held centuries of love and adoration. Beca didn't feel a part of it but she didn’t feel excluded from it either.

She thought that might feel awkward or out of place in a relationship with two people that had been in love with each other long before her ancestors were even born but she didn’t. It was comforting and she realized it was part of the reason she had fallen in love with them. If they could love each other that much, after everything they had been through, maybe they could love her forever too.

“So this is it? We're ready to face the Clans?”

“Not quite. Chloe, do you have my lock box?”

“Of course. It's in the safe behind Sal.”

Beca snorted of unsurprised amusement. “Of course you have a wall safe behind your minotaur's head. That's so Dracula campy.”

Chloe gave her a squint eyed look and went to retrieve the box. Aubrey watched the minotaur head warily, her lip curling slightly on reflex every time Chloe touched it. Beca couldn't help but chuckle at it.

“You really hate that guy.”

“He put a mark on Chloe. I would end every minotaur that walks for the insult.”

“Yikes. While I don’t disagree on the insult part we could maybe talk about this whole genocidal streak ya got going here. Turning over a new leaf, remember?”

Chloe placed a heavy metal box on the vanity between them and handed Aubrey a key. Beca reached out and touched the scarred, battered texture of the hammer marks and engraved runes.

“How old is this thing?”

“Old. It belonged to my mother. A gift from my father upon learning of my birth.”

Beca yanked her hand back immediately and gave the demon box a wary look. Aubrey fit the black glass key in the lock and twisted it. It clicked and popped easily as the tumblers dropped into place. Beca made an interested sound at the smooth movement even after all this time.

“Demon craftsmanship, am I right?”

The vampire lifted the lid with a reverent grace and removed a small leather pouch. Chloe inhaled sharply at seeing it and Beca wondered what she was missing. Aubrey shook the contents out and kissed the two rings that fell into her palm.

“When Harun and I joined and I was cast out of the Council, we created a new crest. One meant to be a symbol for a new way in a new world. I thought these ideals had died with him. But they live in you, Beca, because you, Chloe, kept them alive. It would mean a great deal if you each bore them now. Until we can create a new crest to symbolize our union.”

Beca reached for the larger of the two rings, surprised when it felt tingly and warm in her palm as if it recognized her. She traced a fingertip over the stylized M set in the top right corner of the shield design. M for Michile, her Clan of one. She couldn’t explain why that felt so significant now. She had been alone her whole life and it had bothered her, but now, now she was part of a legacy that had started with a man that shared her blood and wore this ring. Now, She had something to live up to. Now, she had a purpose.

Aubrey’s soft voice shook her out of her thoughts and she raised her head to look at the other women.

“Perhaps something of Chloe's choosing will complete the coat of arms?”

“Oh! Wait…I have…”

Chloe gave the ring she had slid on her finger another soft look of wonder and flipped open a satin padded jewelry box on the corner of her vanity. The vampire removed a small silk pouch and spilled the contents into her hand.

She smiled and lifted a delicate platinum herringbone link bracelet with a minotaur head charm with matching necklace and pendant. It was a perfect offering to symbolize Chloe.

“Can I fasten this on you?”

Beca blinked in surprise and nodded quickly. The necromancer handed her ring to Chloe to thread on the chain and lifted her hair out of the way. The new weight settled comfortably against her chest and she touched it with as much reverence as Aubrey had displayed.

Beca frowned slightly when she realized she had nothing to offer them in return. No token or symbol of who she was or what she may have accomplished in life. Aubrey felt the slight shift in her and reached out a pale hand to hers.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t have anything to give you guys. I never had something like this…I mean. I've never done anything to commemorate or anything. I'm only known for running away and the only things I own are that pile of clothes over there and a rusted out Chevy I bought off a redneck for half a bottle of Wild Turkey and a box of shotgun shells. I don’t have anything precious to give you.”

Chloe cupped her cheek gently, her thumb brushing over Beca’s jaw in a light caress.

“Beca, you are the gift you've given us. Your trust and love mean more than gold and jewels.”

Jewels. Beca reached up and touched the small stud in her ear. The only thing of real value she actually owned. A pair of diamond studs she had purchased from a real fancy jewelry store and not out of the trunk of someone's car. She had been so proud selecting them from the display and laying out her carefully arranged and smoothed bills on the counter. It had felt like she had purchased a toehold into a world she could only observe from the outside. It had taken two years of saving every cent she had but she had earned her wealth such as it was and wore it with pride everyday.

“Wait…” Beca removed each stud and held them out nervously. “I know it's not fancy or life altering but they're a part of me. A part of my struggle I guess.”

Chloe smiled softly and took a stud to pierce through her lobe without hesitation. Beca had to smile when the other woman sat down next to Aubrey at the vanity and started styling her hair in braided sections tight to her head on one side to display her earring openly.

Aubrey chuckled softly and took the other stud from Beca’s hand.

“Harun once made a similar speech to me. Only his fortune included a three legged goat named Hoppy that head butted him incessantly even as we exchanged vows. He traded from a butcher for a new cleaver because he couldn't bear to see Hoppy harmed.”

Beca rocked on her heels and laughed. Okay at least she was doing better than a three legged goat.

“Guess it's a Michile thing to be a broke bitch.”

Aubrey looked at her and blinked in surprise.

“I was going to say it is a Michile thing to share all that you have without restraint. That is who you are Beca Mitchell. That you give of yourself so willingly, down to your very blood, that is the most precious of gifts any could ask for. Chloe and I will wear this token of your bond with more pride than a bejeweled crown.”

“She’s serious about that. There's an actual crown in that demon box.”

Beca couldn't stop herself from the quick peek in the box despite the heaviness of the conversation.

“For real?”

Yep. That was a crown alright. It didn't look like anything Beca would ever wear. Mostly because she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a torture device. It was a delicate circlet of thorns from the same black glass the key had been made of, set with deep red rubies like fresh drops of blood.

It was beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Beca could feel an aura of magic around it that made her a little uneasy. She took a step back from the box and curled a hand around the ring around her neck. It pulsed coolly against her palm as if reminding her it was there with her. Beca focused on the faint tingle of energy and pushed it gently with her power.

The energy swelled and slid over her fingertips and settled into her skin with a familiar throb. Power rose in her, unbidden and unchecked, making both vampires start and stare at her. Beca could feel them all again. Every necromancer and elder from the Michile line, she could feel echoes of all of them. Magic she had never known or experienced filled her mind and body in an overwhelming and painful burst and she cried out seconds before her body locked and she dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks.

The pain ebbed as quickly as it had surged and she found herself cradled in Aubrey’s arms seconds before she passed out.

[cravingpepsimax]

listening to against the kitchen floor and WOW this is EXTREMELY stancest. specifically post-canon and from ford’s guilty pov. goddamn

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: you tell Logan not to hold back anymore. And who is he to deny his sweet girlfriend anything? This is just porn without plot

Wrote this with Xmen/X2 Logan in mind but you may picture whichever Logan suits your needs

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), oral (f receiving), fingering, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, creampie, choking, the claws make an appearance (duh), Logan is obsessed with his girl, established relationship

WC: 3.2K

A/N: SOMETHING SHORT SHE SAID. I need to be put down. I am feral over this man. Seeing DP&W got me acting tf up. It put me back into my Logan obsession so I rewatched all of his movies. And now I need him. So here you go. Might write more with him soon. For now is this.

Follow my reading blog to stay updated with my works if you’d like to see more @midnightreadinglibrary

You were sweet. You were, oh, so sweet. Such a pretty sweet thing. You were so going to be the death of him. Playing with the strings of his sanity, of his composure. Worst of all, you were doing nothing at all to make him go insane. Other than love and care for him that was.

He tried, he really did, he tried to keep himself under control when he was with you, and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far. But god, today, today you were going to make him loose his fucking mind. He had decided to visit you, unannounced he stopped by your apartment. And what did he find? You, in the kitchen, in nothing but a red flannel, his red flannel. Speechless, he was. 

Logan stood in silence, blinking slowly as his eyes took in every part of you with growing intensity. Your legs were bare, your ass barely covered by the length of his shirt and you seemed rather happy like this. Is this what you did when he wasn’t around? And why did the sight of you suddenly wake deep within him an overwhelming need to ruin you? 

Almost as if the intensity of his presence got your absentminded attention, you turned your head to find him standing in the entryway with an unreadable expression. And though a little bit flustered by his unannounced visit, you welcomed him with a soft smile.

“Hi Logan.” You greeted him with glee, all but skipping over to him to greet him properly, of course. You were standing on the ends of your toes and throwing your arms over his broad shoulders while he just stood in ominous silence, only a deep exhale leaving his lips. “Are you okay baby?”

“Yeah.” His voice strained with restraint as he fought the deep urge to throw you over the nearest flat surface. Instead he simply placed his hands on your hips, squeezing unevenly as he gave you an eyebrow raise. “New shirt?”

“Oh,” Your lips fell open in a bit of embarrassment and you laughed softly, flustered as you looked down at the shirt that was clearly not yours. It kind of smelled like him still. “Yeah so, my washer broke, I don’t know what happened to it, and I couldn’t find anything comfortable so… Does it bother you?”

Did it bother him? The only thing that was bothering him was his already hard cock straining against his jeans. 

“A pretty girl in my clothes? I would be fucking stupid.” 

The way his words left his mouth made you laugh. But the look in those hazel eyes was anything but humorous. Animalistic and full of need. Your lips curled up into a smile as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Messily and intensely his lips moved against yours as his hands squeezed and touched everywhere he could, as if he didn’t know which part of you he craved to feel more. 

“You’d look prettier on your back though.” He muttered against your mouth, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. You were more than happy to comply.

A string of giggles left your lips as his lips tickled over your stomach. You laid flat on the soft covers as Logan settled between the warmth of your thighs. He pried your legs open, fingers digging into your skin as his sharp canines lightly nipped at the plush flesh on your inner thigh. You gasped, though overwhelmed with excitement.

“Logan.” You scolded him, knowing you would have a mark there, but the sound of your voice turned into a delicious whine when he pressed his nose into your panties, inhaling that oh so intoxicating scent of yours. 

An almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.” He pressed a hard kiss to your hole, the bridge of his nose bumping your clothed clit. The sudden pressure had you gasping for air, your chest pounding with anticipation.

Your panties were off your body and thrown over his shoulder in a split second, his lips latching on to your clit with reckless urgency. One would think this man hadn’t seen you in weeks, when he had seen, and taken you only two nights ago. Alas, that was one the things you loved the most about Logan, his unending need to touch you, to feel you, to be all over you. You thought he would get tired eventually, but his drive was almost animalistic. He never had enough, though he often held back for your sake. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy with abandon. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls. It annoyed him at times, the way your hips moved and lifted off the mattress with sensitivity as he fucked you with his tongue, when his nose brushed against your clit. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and pressed your knees against your stomach, holding you down and spreading you open for him to do as he pleased. 

“You squirm too fucking much.” He huffed, but there was a slight bit of amusement laced in his tongue.

Your response came in the form of a whimper, a pathetic sound that only grew louder when two thick fingers replaced his tongue inside your wet hole. He looked up at you with pure primal need as his fingers worked your tight walls, crooking against that one spot that had you crying.

“Please, please Logan.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? To be ruined? You didn’t know. 

Logan raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up into a tiny smirk as he moved his tongue back to your clit. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting into your pussy as he ate you like a starving man. 

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and crying, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” Were you making any sense? No. Did he care? Fuck no. Seeing you so desperate, so consumed with pleasure, a complete and utter mess for him, it snapped something in him. Deep inside the most perveted and secluded corner of his mind, he liked it. And though he shouldn’t, he wanted more. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit. You were writhing on the mattress, nearly crying as you had no option but to take it, it wasn’t like you could run away, not with the way his free held you down, one hand of his was stronger than all of you combined. All you could do was sob and pull at his hair as he dragged out your orgasm. 

“L-Logan.” You pleaded weakly, throat dry as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, chest glistening with a layer of sweet, lightly clinging to the fabric of Logan’s shirt. All you could see was his dark hair before his eyes met yours. The look behind his eyes was indescribable but it had you clenching you around nothing when his fingers left you. 

Your thighs twitched in aftershock when his mouth left you. You felt him press his forehead against your thighs, his hardened breath fanning against your hot skin for a long second. He needed a second to calm down, keep himself under control, he couldn’t let his primal instincts get the best of him.

You ran your fingers along his face, threading through the hair along his cheek and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind. His fingers were on your hair as his mouth took yours with growing urgency. You could feel him through the roughness of his jeans, brushing against your clit in ways that made you dizzy. You needed him, and you needed him bad. You reached down, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, but before you could undress him he was pulling back, rough fingers holding your wrist.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.” He was breathing hard, chest pounding as he looked at your confused face. 

“Wait, why? What's wrong?” God, you were too sweet, too kind for him, he couldn’t do it. 

“I just… Shit.” He closed his eyes, jaw set as tried to control his clouded mind, but he could only do so much to restrain all of the filthy things he craved to do to you. The way you were looking up at him, eyes big with concern, gentle hands holding his face, preventing him from going anywhere. “I think we should stop. I should stop.”

“Oh… I mean.. We can stop whenever but.. Why? Did I do something wrong?” You were sitting up, and the sadness and disappointment in your pretty eyes made him curse at himself.

“No. No. Fuck, no. I’m the problem. I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He finally admitted it, words leaving his chest with heaviness. Your face remained the same, confused.

“Well, why would you? I never asked you to.” It finally dawned on you what he meant, and you were unbothered, if anything the look on your face was of eagerness. With malice, you threw your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“Sweetheart..” He was warning you, voice rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, one last attempt to keep his composure before it was inevitably too late.

“I won’t break Logan. I trust you. And I want it.” Your last words came out with sharpness, a grueling intensity that had him groaning under his breath. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, almost as if to emphasize your point. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. 

With an uneven breath he was sitting up on his knees, white undershirt thrown to be forgotten somewhere in your room. And you were happily delighted as you watched him toss his belt aside and undo his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants with a strained groan and you were holding your breath in anticipation, legs open and welcoming him. His eyes were dark with pure raw desire as he settled between your legs, cock hard and heavy as he kicked the rest of his clothes off like it had insulted him.

“Don’t fucking hold back.” You snapped at him as he held himself up on his forearm, his other hand holding himself against your entrance. Your words shot straight to his cock and his lips curled up into a grin.

“Hold on, pretty.” He rumbled, chest heavy as he sank himself into your wet cunt in one single thrust.

Your lips fell open, eyes instantly rolling at the delicious feeling of his thick and heavy cock splitting you open. It was an intoxicating feeling you couldn’t get enough of; you were fucking sure he had ruined every other man for you. Not that it bothered you. 

The pace he set was grueling from the start, one hand braced on your pillow beside your head and the other on your thigh, rough fingers feeling up and down the skin as he drove his cock in and out of your walls. Sounds of pleasure left your lips almost immediately as the sting of his cock had you dragging your nails up and down his back, leaving red angry marks that healed in a split second. He absolutely adored the burning sensation your nails left on his skin, over and over. 

It was brutal, the way his hips drove you into the mattress as he fucked the life out of you. You did ask him to, you realized that perhaps your lack of restraint when it came to him would indeed be the end of you today, but at least you’d die happy by his cock. His forehead touched yours, eyes on your chest as he forced the buttons of his shirt open. His hand immediately cupped your breast, squeezing and he forced your body up and down on the mattress with each relentless snap of his hips. You cried out, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed his cock, unable to do much other than take everything he had to give you. His hand traveled up your chest to your exposed neck, fingers sprawled over your throat but not putting pressure. 

“Yes. Please, yes, do it.” Delirious, cock-drunk, fucked out, you might have been all of those things, but you were perfectly aware of him surrounding you, caging you in, consuming you. And you wanted all of it.

“Fuck, pretty.” His lips brushed yours as his fingers lightly squeezed your throat. He could feel the air leaving your tightening throat, and the way you squeezed his cock in response had him creasing his eyebrows with pleasure. “This what you wanted? You just wanted it rough, huh?”

You were nodding your head, breathless as blood rushed to your face, the lack of blood flow making you all the more delirious. Absolutely lost, so deep within your pleasure that your brain wasn’t working anymore. All that was consuming your mind was Logan, his scent, his sounds, the tip of his cock brushing that spot that had you squirming. You didn’t even realize tears were coating your cheeks, so lost that your moans had turned into cries. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” The hand on your neck moved to swipe away your tears as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in an attempt to bring you back to reality, the gentle gesture a juxtaposition to the ruthless drag of his cock. “There’s not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

He adjusted himself above you, his chest pressed against yours, thick hairs tickling your skin with each deep stroke. There was a bit of smugness on his pleasured expressions, seeing you so utterly out of it, his cock being the reason. Seeing such a sweet little thing coming completely undone by his hand gave him a sense of satisfaction that made his cock twitch. 

He held your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back with pleasure, the crease in your eyebrows and your soft lips parted as filthy sounds left you. It was the prettiest of things.

“It just feels so good, huh? Can’t even talk.” he huffed a laugh, his nose brushing against yours as his free hand found your swollen clit and you were gasping as your thighs shuddered, sweet release building. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how good it feels. ‘Cause this sure feels so fucking good to me.” 

“Mhmm!” It took your brain a long minute to register his words, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything when his cock was making you feel so good, when you could feel your release so close. “Feels so good—Please, need it. Logan please.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girl anything? 

Logan moved his free hand to one of your thighs, holding it and bending it so that one of your knees was damn near next to your head. He drilled into you, fucking you into the matress and rubbing harsh circles on your swollen clit until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess, filled with the neverending bliss of your release. 

“That’s it, atta girl.” He pressed his lips to your bruised lips, swallowing the pathetic sounds of your orgasm as he continued to chase his own. Your release seeped through his cock as his hand left your clit. He braced himself on the pillow beside your head he continued to fuck you into his release. “You’re doing so well sweetheart, take it just like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you sobbed, the hairs at the base of his cock grazing your clit as he abused your hole. Desperate hands latched on to his hair as you held him, simply taking everything he had to give you. He was close, so incredibly close, composure completely gone from his body as he chased his release with selfish abandon. He dropped his face into your neck, sharp canines nipping at the soft skin, surely to leave a mark or two.

“Please Logan. Come in me. Please, I need it—” Though broken, in between pathetic whimpers you pleaded to him. And if he had any self-restraint left it was fucking gone.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was purely animalistic, a feral growl and the sound of metallic sharp claws rang in your ears next to your head. You gasped in pleasant surprise, moaning at the thought of him losing control like this. It should concern him, it should. But he couldn’t give one fuck. He coated your insides with his release, eyes closed and eyebrows creased into this twisted expression of rapture. With a couple final thrusts he pumped you full of himself until you were leaking around his cock. Only then did he still his pistoning hips. 

“Fuck.” You heard him grunt in your ear, followed by the sound of his claws sheathing back into his knuckles. Your eyes widened with aftershock and your wash chest was heavy as you panted. 

Logan lifted his head from your neck to look at you, heavy breaths leaving his chest as he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“I… I didn’t mean to..” He trailed off, though slightly apologetic as he caught a glimpse of the three punctured holes on your pillow, he did not regret it one bit. You were quickly shaking your head at him, a tired smile on your face.

“Don’t be. That was like, so hot.” You bit your lip, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you pulled him into a kiss. He hummed, hand beside your head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You owe me some new pillows though.”

“Yeah? Might owe you more than that then.” A smug smirk replaced his concern as he rolled his hips, making you aware of his still hard cock, hot and heavy in your walls. You gasped, wide eyes meeting his own. “What? You thought I was done with you?” 

With a hold of your arm he flipped you on your stomach, the sudden movement making you whimper. But the thought of him taking you over and over sure had you eager in anticipation. Though as his cock sunk into your cunt once more you were beginning to wonder just how much your curiosity was going to cost you. Surely a whole day in bed tomorrow would be in order. He was so going to be the death of you. Little did you know, you were already going to be his.

[yueebby]

12:03 pm  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo tries to convince his first years that he was able to pull you.

contents. fluff, crack??, whipped!gojo, mentions of having a kid, he is SO in love with his wife it's disgusting, the first years are sick of their teacher

“[name] sensei is a good looking woman, isn’t she?” yuji remarked, nonchalantly propping his feet up on the desk. “you think so too, right gojo sensei?”

a sly smile played on the corners of gojo's lips, eventually blossoming into a wide, dreamy grin. “good eye yuji! she's undeniably the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

megumi, seated at the desk beside yuji, couldn't hide his grimace.

nobara's expression mirrored that of a disgruntled sea urchin. “dream big, you two. she’s way outta both of your leagues.”

“she is, isn’t she?” gojo sighs dreamily, his gaze far away. a dopey grin settles over his face; like a man walking on air. it was deeply unsettling to the first years to see a grown man behave this way.

megumi rolled his eyes and muttered his disapproval, choosing to ignore his sensei, who had casually seated himself backwards on a chair.

gojo propped his chin with both of his palms, leaning closer into the first years students. “do you think i’d stand a chance with a woman like her?”

megumi buried his face in his hands, audibly groaning in response.

“a sensible woman like that and you? fat chance.” nobara deadpanned, squinting disapprovingly at her teacher. her negative comments elicit a grunt from the snow-haired man.

yuji’s eyes flit nervously from kugisaki to gojo. 

“sensei! i think you have a chance with [name] sensei!” yuji tried to reassure his white haired teacher, offering a thumbs-up. gojo responded by affectionately ruffling yuji’s hair.

megumi couldn’t help but speak up. “she’s a married woman, you know,” he mutters to his friend.

yuji’s eyes widened,  “you’re kidding! who do you think got the honor?” 

“but she’s so young!” kugisaki exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. 

their discussion is cut short when the shoji doors of the classroom slide open abruptly.

with hands on your hips, you stood sternly before your first year students and their teacher, an air of authority about you.

satoru couldn't help but gulp; you were indeed captivating when you were upset. it’s not his fault that you look so cute when your eyebrows furrow and you puff up in anger.

“i waited for half an hour in the courtyard to start today’s lesson and yet here i find my students, along with their sensei who should be in kyoto for a meeting.” a wry smile graced your lips, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. the three first years bowed their heads in shame.

yuji thinks this is the first time he’s seen his teacher nervous. a bead of sweat appears on the side of gojo’s face.

“honey!” he quickly stands up and walks towards you. with every step he takes, nobara’s face scrunches up at his disgusting conduct. 

“don’t.” you warned, raising a finger up to keep satoru at an arm’s length. he respected your wishes to some extent, grasping your hand and placing it within the hold of his own. the diamond on your ring finger glistened as satoru toyed with it.

gasps filled the room as yuji and nobara observed the display of affection. just how inappropriate could their sensei get, and why were you allowing it? what would your husband think?

satoru tenderly caressed your hand in his, cradling it as he leaned in closer. “please forgive me; it was an honest mistake.”

“honest mistake my ass. yaga told me that this is the second meeting you’ve skipped out this month,” you stated, peering fiercely into his blindfolded eyes. satoru’s cocky demeanor wavered, replaced by a nervous chuckle.

“the first time was when i took you to naha, remember?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “and if i remember correctly, you enjoyed our night out,” your eyes widened, recalling the romantic trip satoru had organized. 

feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you attempted to pull away, but his grip on your hand tightened.

“forgive me?” his voice softened, lips curving downward, giving him the appearance of a dejected kitten.

a sigh escapes your lips. he was going to be the death of you.

“fine. but this is the last time,” you warned, “and you owe me for covering for you.”

satoru straightened up, nodding fervently. “have i mentioned how much i love you?” wrapping an arm around you, he placed a kiss on the top of your head, despite your futile attempts to stop him.

“this is…” yuji’s jaw dropped.

“so inappropriate! shame on you!” nobara’s chair makes a harsh screech with how fast she leaves it to come to your aid. 

“kugisaki–” you attempted to calm her down, but she clung to your elbow, desperately trying to pry you from satoru’s embrace.

satoru’s hold on you tightened as he wrapped his other arm around your frame, pulling you close. he plops his chin on top of your head and resists nobara’s attempts to free you. like hell he’s letting anybody take his girl, not even his own student.

“crushing on a married woman is one thing, but to openly flirt with her– ” kugisaki struggled. you tilt your head in confusion. 

satoru’s strong arms flexed as he fought to maintain his hold on you. he nuzzled your neck. “’m fine right here,” he inhaled deeply, as if trying to take in as much of you as possible.

“[name] sensei! how can you stand there and let this man disrespect your marriage?!” nobara implored, wide-eyed, disregarding all respect she had for her teacher.  “how will your husband react when he finds how gojo sensei behaves around you?” she looks desperate, and you want to laugh at the sincerity behind her actions. you get it now.

only your idiot husband would pull a stunt like this.

“i hope your husband can fight because i’m willing to fight him to the death for your hand,” satoru mutters from your neck. you take your hand from nobara’s shoulders to shove the six-foot-three giant away.

“you seriously didn’t tell them, satoru?” you ignored his whiney protests as you created distance between the two of you. 

“tell us what?” kugisaki demanded. yuji was on the edge of his seat, nervously watching the unfolding scene, while megumi put his head down in embarrassment.

satoru looks at you with a deep frown on his face. uncertainty clouds your mind as his silence forebodes something. wetting his lips with his tongue, he quickly closed the gap between you, too fast for you to escape. a secure hand rested on your lower waist as your husband dipped you down to deepen the kiss. 

had you not been so absorbed into the kiss, you would have heard the scandalized gasps from your students.

you managed to place a hand on his chest to separate yourselves, “satoru, stop.” his eyes remained fixed on your lips, but he complied.

“yuji, nobara.. satoru and i are–” you hold up your ring finger for display.

“happily married!” your husband finished for you, a triumphant smile on his face. he squeezed you close, throwing up a peace sign. “been madly in love since i met her!” 

“what– no way! you pulled her?!” nobara spluttered, head whipping from satoru to you, unable to wrap her mind around the revelation.

yuji’s jaw is still on the floor, “megumi, you knew about this?!”

the sea urchin looks the other direction, avoiding his friends’ judgemental gazes.

“they… raised me.. sorta..” he mumbles under his breath. your heart melts at his confession. unlike you, the other first years don't take too kindly to his comment, as they start shaking him by the shoulder and starting their own interrogation.

“and we did a good job too! don’t you think we’re ready for our own?” satoru smiles down at you jokingly, his hands snaking around your waist and his hands sneaking onto your stomach. he leaves a couple of soft pats. 

“you’re cuter when you’re quiet, y’know?” you whispered. taking advantage of your students' attention on megumi, you place a single finger on his lips, hoping your husband does not notice the way your face feels like it is on fire. 

he does.

“no need to be shy now,” satoru said, grinning wolfishly, “we’ll continue this at home.”

your face flushes even deeper.

unbeknownst to you, the first years had fallen silent, observing how gojo whispered in your ear, successfully turning you into a flustered mess. perhaps they should give more credit to their sensei.

notes. not proof read (oh no). this was just a random scenario that has been plaguing my mind during halloweekend so i typed it on my phone at a party LOL this is me desperately trying to get out of my writing slump

[wcnderlnds]

bad idea right? | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: what happens in the squid game bathrooms, stays in the squid game bathrooms ・❥・word count: 1.2k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex. female reader. swearing. ・❥・ authors note: i haven't wrote smut in months so you'll have to forgive me if this is awful <3

It had started off like any normal day in the Squid Games. You’d woke up, got traumatised by the day’s game, cast your vote and then ate the meander meal they’d gave you – sandwich and a drink. Nothing out of the ordinary except today had been the day you had officially met Thanos. You had seen him around – his purple hair was hard to miss – but you’d never really spoke to him. In fact, most of the time, you kept to yourself but this game had meant that you had to pair up with people. There had been one moment where you were struggling to find a group when suddenly a flash of purple hair grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into a room with him and a few other boys. From that moment on, he had stuck by your side during the game even kicking out one of his closer friends. Why he had latched on to you, you had no idea but you couldn’t have been more thankful. If it wasn’t for him, you’d surely have been eliminated by now.

The moment you’d got back to the main holding area, he pulled you into a giant hug. His arms engulfed your body, pressing you flush against him as he rambled about how glad he was that you were safe and how he wanted to be with you and not his friend.

Somehow that had led to where you were now — locked in a bathroom stall with your back pressed against the cool wall, the pants of your sweatsuit down your legs. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d even got into this predicament. Maybe it was the feel of Thanos’ body pressing against yours, maybe it was the attention from the most handsome guy in this place — you had no idea. All you knew was that Thanos was on his knees, his mouth between your thighs devouring you like a man possessed.

His tongue flattened, licking a long stripe up your folds. Your fingers tangled in his purple locks, tugging on them as his tongue swirled around your clit, flicking the sensitive bud. The moans falling from your lips were breathy as you tried to keep quiet. The last thing you needed was to get caught. Having sex in the bathroom was surely grounds for elimination. 

“You’re fuckin’ dripping, baby,” Thanos mumbled against you as he lapped up your juices. “You taste so good, Senorita. Could do this all day.”

His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and licking along your folds before he dove the muscle into your tight hole. A gasp emanated from your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair even tighter as he fucked you with his tongue. 

“Fuck, Thanos,” you panted. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you, wiping your juices from his lips with the back of his hand. Damn, could this man get any hotter? He rose to his feet, hand sliding to the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he shoved his into your mouth, tangling with yours. Moaning into the kiss, Thanos used his free hand to pull his own sweatpants down just enough to free his aching cock.

“Jump,” he mumbled against your lips. Instantly, you obliged. His hands caught you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His length brushed against your folds causing a shudder to run through your body. Was it just this place? Because you had never wanted someone so badly before in your life. Never had you felt so desperate. The lingering fear of death was probably a factor – making you crave as much intimacy as humanly possible. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget all about these games, senorita.”

Before you could even reply, he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing into you with one hard thrust. His hand flew up to cover your mouth, hiding the loud moan you’d let out at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you. He drew his hips back until he was almost all the way out then thrust back in, hard. He set a fast past, withdrawing his hand from your mouth so he could grab at your hips. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough he was sure to leave bruises but you didn’t care. The feeling of him pistoning in and out of you, the draw of his cock along your walls was enough for you to feel like you were in heaven. Nothing else really mattered in that moment.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Taking me like a champ,” he groaned, his eyes glancing down to watch his dick move in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the bathroom stall. His hands slid down your back to grab your ass, pulling your body into him as he fucked into you to take him deeper. 

“Oh, right there, right there,” you whimpered as he hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars. Thanos smirked, covering your whimpers with his mouth as he picked up his pace. He made sure to angle his hips so he hit that sweet spot over and over again to the point you were a whimpering, moaning mess babbling nonsense about how good he felt inside you.

Your hands clawed at his back, head thrown back against the wall as he pounded into you with animalistic speed. He was like a man possessed, fucking you with an inch of your life to bring you both to ecstasy. One of his hands reached up into your hair, yanking your head back roughly. “Come for me, Senorita. Show me who’s making you feel this fucking good.” 

He could feel your walls clamping down around him, bringing his own climax closer. He redoubled his efforts, covering your mouth once again sensing how close you were. His body felt like it was on fire as he thrust his hips relentlessly against yours. His forehead rested against yours as his grunts came more frequently, trying his best to keep quiet himself. Then, he felt it, his balls tightening as he toyed on the edge of ecstasy. 

“Oh fuck,” you cried out, though it was a mumbled against his hand. Your body shook as your orgasm crashed over you, hips bucking wildly against his. The feeling of you coming undone around his cock finally pushed him over the edge.

“Shit, I’m coming. Fuck,” he groaned, burying his head in your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin as he thrust into you one last time, hips stilling as he painted your insides with his release. After a few minutes, he finally caught his breath back, pulling out of you with a hiss. He tucked his softening length back into his pants, leaning back against the wall on the other side of the stall. His eyes watched you as you pulled your own clothes back on. Both of you knew this had to stay between you, if anyone found out they’d surely use it to get you eliminated from the games.

Your fingers ran through your hair trying to at least make yourself look presentable before you went back into the pits of hell. “Well…”

He held his hand up. “No worries, gorgeous. Maybe if you’re lucky, we can have a repeat of this after the next game.” He unlocked the door, his arm outstretched to let you out first. “That’s if you make it this time.”

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

NEXT

[hxltic]

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched away from him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

[fakebwitch]

reader being obsessed with rafe’s biceps and he wants to please her

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

rafe is obviously aware of how fitnessed and perfect his body is, and he also knows how obsessed you are. when you two fuck your hands are always somehow on his body, from when you ride him, holding yourself on his muscular legs or placing your hands on his chest, or when y’all are doing missionary, your nails dig into the skin of his back as he thrust hard inside you or tighten around his biceps.

speaking of biceps, they were your favorite thing. I mean, you loved every single thing about his body, his back, his shoulders, his abs, his thigh but biceps would do it for you everytime. you would drool every time you see him wearing one of his short-sleeved polo shirts, putting his muscular arm in perfect view, your eyes would carefully observe every single contraction, asking him to open a simple bottle of water or fix something that you had voluntarily broken just to enjoy the sight of his arms at work.

you loved having his strong arms holding you close to him, there was nothing that made you happier when at night, after a long day, his arms wrapped around your figure pulling you towards him, his grip firm as the heat of his body began to expand to yours.

rafe wasn’t stupid, he noticed after a short time your continuous eyes on his biceps, how you somehow tried to always have a hand on them and how you wanted rafe’s arms always around you. he was always ready to tease you about it, you would laugh everytime trying to hide your flushes.

obviously this obsession of yours grows when we talk about sex. having him chocking you while pounding into you, watching at the way his biceps flexed made you clench around his length, or when his fingers were buried inside your tight hole, you would force yourself to keep your eyes open even though all you wanted to do was to throw you head back just to watch the way his arm was contracting at the speed he was using and his veins on full display.

one day he proposed you something that left you in disbelief, not like you have never thought about something like that before but hearing him say it to you was totally different. you had stopped from grinding onto his bulge, looking at him with wide eyes while he just looked at you with his usual cocky smirk, your pussy clenching around nothing just at the idea.

“you’re just so obsessed princess, bet you wouldn’t mind riding it instead of grinding on my dick, would you?” he had proposed to you, his gaze fell down indicating what he was referring to, your hand tight around his biceps. you stared at him for what seemed like hours not knowing what to answer, suddenly you felt like you wanted to disappear. “don’t get shy on me now baby, use your words mhm?” he incited you, his hand moved from your hip to rest on your cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb on the soft skin as you rested your head on it, enjoying his warm touch.

“yeah… i would- i would love that” you answered, you didn’t even know where you had found the courage to accept something so dirty but that you wanted at the same time so much. rafe’s grin widened even more noticing the shyness in your voice, he could feel that you were insecure about it, he was quick to put his lips on yours in a small kiss. “don’t worry baby I got you, just use me like you prefer” he whispered to you a few centimeters from your lips, you bit your lip hearing such words, your most perverse dream was coming true.

“uhh f-fuuck… rafeee” you gasped moving your hips quickly, your head thrown back while you fully enjoyed the pleasure of your clit in contact with his contracted muscle, your moisture scattered all over the area, sliding along the elbow. “I know baby I’m here, keep going” he incited you, he looked at you from below with eyes full of lust groping his cock in the pants, a mess of his own pre cum in his boxer while enjoying the scene of his pretty girl rubbing herself on his biceps.

“i’m gonna- gonna..” your voice broken as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to reaching the peak, your legs began to hurt and your movements slowed down, you felt tears forming at the corners of your eyes worried that you wouldn’t be able to reach your orgasm but rafe was right there, and without you being able to say anything else he put a hand on the back of your thigh, pushing you to continue rubbing yourself on his biceps.

“there you go baby… make a mess all over me”. In no time you reached your orgasm, an almost pornographic moan came out of your lips as your movements stopped abruptly, your cum began to drip on his skin. slimy sounds filled the room while rafe helped you ride your orgasm with some other small push, before you fell in the place next to him, your legs tingled from the effort you had subjected them to.

“that’s it princess, was it good?” he asked you observing your fucked-out expression then moving his gaze to his arm, completely covered with your wetness.

“the best fucking thing ever.”

[yawnderu]

Ex-husband Simon never truly goes away. 

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

His eyes flutter shut as your delicate arms encircle his shoulders, hugging his body closer to yours, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. Despite it all, you’re placing all your trust in Simon one last time.