#that slight beard and his innocent face does things to me

[sof4thompson]

He's proposing to me

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, dubcon, dark Ari, liar Ari, cheater Ari, mean Ari, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, slight voyeurism, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

𝐀/𝐍: So I wrote this quickly in the past few hours. It’s probably filled with mistakes as I have not reread it even once. But please do enjoy! And tell me what you think.

“Ari, no.”

You pout, but all that does is make him smirk. And it’s not like you’re strong enough to stop him as the beefy 6’6 brunette drags you into the locker room.

“C’mon, babe. Just a quickie while the rest of the team is busy.”

“But I’m not talking to you!”

Ari raises an eyebrow, reaching up to rub his thick beard while his other hand remains pressed to the small of your back. “Oh yeah? Is that why you came to watch me play? And sat in the front row and batted your lashes and gave me those fuck me eyes?”

Your jaw drops open, “You meanie! I did no such thing!”

But Ari uses that moment to shove you through the locker room door, locking it behind you before he pins you against it. And in a second, he’s all over you. This huge, hunky basketball player, his muscular biceps all sweaty from practice, his vest sticking to his toned body that you know all too well. He presses his lips against your neck, sponging wet kisses as he tries to unbutton your top to feel you up, “Just a quickie, honey.” He repeats, “I know how badly you want me.”

“I don’t!” You protest, albeit weakly. But you manage to press your arms against his hard chest and push with all your might. But you might as well be a fly combatting a rhino because of how much bigger he is than you. And yet, you continue pushing and batting at his chest, till he stops kissing you and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow and a mildly irritated look on his face.

“What’s your problem?”

“I told you, Ari! I’m not speaking to you.”

The beefy brunette rolls his eyes before backing away and peeling his vest off. You gulp, trying not to grow distracted by how hot his body is, how big and muscular he is, how defined his sixpack is. He’s the hottest guy on the basketball team. No. Scratch that. He’s the hottest guy on campus and it’s crazy to think that he’s crazy about you.

Ari sits down on the wooden bench by the lockers, taking up the whole area as he spreads out with his legs open and pats his beefy thighs. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you come sit on daddy’s knee and tell me exactly why you’re mad, sweetheart.”

Oh, he was so cocky sometimes! Ari had the worst reputation among all the girls in your college. An asshole. A player. A fuckboy. Your friends had warned you not to fall for his charms, they’d told you he’d prey on you. Take advantage of you because of how “innocent” you were. That’s what he did with everyone else.

But you were different! That’s what Ari had told you when he’d taken your virginity weeks ago at a frat party. You’d felt dizzy from the one singular sip of alcohol you’d consumed and had gone to lie down in one of the upstairs bedrooms. And not ten minutes later, you’d felt the bed dip and you’d opened your eyes to see the hottest upperclassman on campus sitting right next to you. The rest was history. But he’d told you how beautiful you were that night, how he couldn’t take his eyes off you. How he’d had a fight with his girlfriend and maybe you could cheer him up?

And he’d made you feel so good. The two of you had been fooling around ever since. It was crazy to you, how a senior as hot and perfect as Ari Levinson (captain of the basketball team and the most popular guy on campus) seemed to be so interested in a random freshman like you. And he’d done things to your body that no other fumbling boyfriend could ever figure out how to do before. Yes, in your eyes, Ari Levinson was a God.

Which is why you obediently perch down on his lap in the locker room, and the older boy smirks, pushing the neckline of your top to the side so he can play with your bra strap. You feel hot all over but try to remember why you’re mad at him, despite the fact that he’s so close to you and completely shirtless.

“Ari, you didn’t keep your promise.” You begin, but he’s already begun kissing up your jaw, pressing your body flush against his till you can feel his boner digging into your ass.

“Mm? What promise was that, baby?”

You try not to grow distracted by all the cut pet-names he calls you, or the fact that he’s kissing and touching you so ravenously, making you feel so beautiful and sexy and desirable because he of all people wants you so bad. But you need to stay focused and get your point across before he has you completely helpless underneath him.

“Well, you told me you were gonna break up with your girlfriend last week, but Wanda says she saw you hanging out with Sharon yesterday at the ice cream parlour.” You sniffle, “She said… She said you looked all cosy, huddled up in the booth with her. She even saw you guys kissing!” You shake your head and scrunch your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

“Aww, baby.” Ari coos, his heavy arms wrapping around you and cuddling you close, and you can’t help but cry into his bare chest. He was so warm and hairy and just so huggable, and his hand rubs soothingly up and down your back as he hugs you hard. “This is all just a huge misunderstanding.”

You look up at him, “It is?”

“Of course.” Ari says confidently, his expression not wavering for a second as he strokes your cheek. “I was at the ice cream parlour with Sharon, but I was only there to break up with her. And then we hugged it out and she gave me a goodbye kiss on the cheek. That’s probably what Wanda saw.”

“B-But Wanda says you guys were embracing for a long time.”

Ari blinks, and for a fleeting moment, something dark crosses over his features before they relax once more, and he gives you his winning smile. “Well, that’s because Sharon’s uncle died.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to tell you that since it’s kind of private, but since you wouldn’t let it go… Well, Sharon’s uncle died, baby. And she was really sad about it, so I gave her a long hug and comforted her.”

“Oh.” You pause, trying to makes sense of all this new information. Your friends had told you in the past that you could be gullible – but Ari wouldn’t lie about someone dying, would he? You look up at him, seeing his pouty pink lips smiling down at you gently while his big hands continue to rub over your back, slipping down under your top to do so. “Well that’s… That’s really sad, Ari. Is she okay?”

“Hm?” Ari’s too busy staring down your cleavage, and his finger hooks under your bra strap and snaps it lewdly against your skin, his pink tongue darting out to run over his lips. His usually blue eyes look blown out and navy, and he lifts your top over your breasts to give them a squeeze, “What’d you say, baby?”

“I said, is Sharon okay? Deaths within immediate family can be hard to deal with. Was she close with her uncle?” You can’t help but feel bad. Sharon had been Ari’s long-term girlfriend for a while, but Ari had told you that they’d been having a lot of fights recently and that he was meaning to break up with her. He’d told you that Sharon was insufferable and mean and that you were sweet and lovely. He said he wanted to make you his new girlfriend, but it would have to wait until he broke up with Sharon. And now he’d done it.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Ari answers distractedly, gesturing for you to lift your arms up so he can peel your top off you. You yelp in protest when he throws it across the room before expertly unclasping your bra with one hand. And your bra goes flying across the room as well, and Ari wastes no time in latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking harshly and making you throw your head back and gasp out loud.

His hand slips up to massage your other breast and pinch your nipple which is hard as glass. You pant, loving how you turn into putty in his hands as soon as he touches you. He’s just so experienced and makes your body feel so good with the simplest of gestures, and you can’t help but grab his long brown locks that reach down till the base of his neck, pulling hard at the same time he gives your nipple a hard suck, practically suctioning your whole breast into his mouth.

“Ah, Ari! Does this mean you can finally make me your girlfriend?” You ask, despite all the sensations your body is feeling. You’ve been waiting to be his girlfriend for weeks now. It’s been hard having to meet up with him in secret all the time. Waiting for him to text you late at night, or wait until the early hours of the morning when he shows up to your dorm room for sex. You want Ari to take you out on dates, hold your hand on campus and let everyone know that you’re his girlfriend now. And Ari had promised he’d do all of that for you. Was now finally the time?

“God, you have the prettiest tits, baby.” Ari murmurs against your breasts, pushing them together and burying his face in them, licking and sucking and biting the sensitive skin while you pant and wail. “You had me distracted the entire time I was playing. Kept looking at you jumping up and down every time I scored, fuck!” He drives his hard crotch up against your ass and you whimper, holding steadily onto his broad shoulders. “Felt like you were putting on a private show for me, baby.”

Despite your pleasure, you can’t help but feel indignance towards his lewd insinuation, “I was not!”

Ari smirks, “Oh yeah? You weren’t purposely bouncing your tits for daddy? I guess I forgot what an airhead you can be, not even realising how sexy your body is in all these tiny outfits that you wear especially for me, huh?”

“Ari!” You smack his chest. He could be so rude sometimes, a complete asshole! But he was also the one who’d called you beautiful when he’d taken your virginity. When he’d praised you for being the most sensitive, understanding and sweetest girl he’d ever met. Oh, as much as he made your blood boil with his lewd remarks, he also made butterflies flutter in your tummy with his words that were sweet as honey!

The captain of the basketball team smiles down at you, his blue eyes twinkling with lust as he leans back against the lockers behind him, folding his arms over his chest as he looks you over.

“Get up and turn around, baby. Daddy wants to see your ass.”

You immediately obey. His deep, commanding voice always resonates with your submissive side, and your pussy throbs as you stand up and turn till your back is facing him. Shivers run down your spine when you feel his hand press against the small of your back, pushing you forward till you’re bending over, your ass pointed straight to his face.

“Now take this tiny excuse for a skirt off. And do it slowly.”

With care, you slowly slip the blue denim skirt with pink frills down your bare legs. Ari was right, you’d worn this slutty outfit especially for him – whether you wanted to admit it or not. You were addicted to him and the attention he gave you. Sure, you were mad at him, but that hadn’t stopped you from attending his basketball practice in these tiny clothes, hoping he’d pay you some attention. Which he had.

But it was all okay, and you didn’t even have to feel bad anymore! Ari had broken up with his girlfriend which meant he would make you his new girlfriend!

“Daddy, isn’t it great we won’t have to sneak around anymore?” You ask him cutely. But he’s too busy staring at your ass to answer. You step out of your skirt and shiver when you feel his hands groping your bare ass. You’re wearing a tiny candy pink G-string which barely conceals anything, and Ari’s going to town as he squeezes and fondles your butt to his heart’s content.

“You have such a cute baby ass.” Ari murmurs, pressing kisses on your fleshy cheeks as he keeps a firm grip on them, “Best ass I’ve ever seen, honey. I can always see it peaking out from under your slutty little skirts. I’m always itching to give it a smack and see how it jiggles.” H squeezes it roughly, “Tell me to hit you, baby.”

“Huh?”

“Tell daddy you want to be hit for being a naughty little girl and wearing slutty outfits.” Ari says, his voice deep with carnal lust.

“B-But.”

“Do it. Or I’ll take you over my knee and spank you twice as hard.”

You pout at his threat, but you know he’ll follow through with it. A week ago, Ari had seen you flirting with his friend Curtis. It was completely innocent on your part – you just liked to talk to people, after all! – but Ari hadn’t thought so. He’d reminded you that you were his, and that you couldn’t speak to any other man. And then he’d slung you over his knee and spanked you till your ass was raw and glowing with pain.

You swallow harshly, “Daddy, please hit my baby ass.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause I was wearin’ a slutty outfit.”

SMACK.

You’re almost knocked off your feet with the force of the slap, but it also resonates straight down to your cunt. And from your bent over position, you can see your slick dripping down your leg. God, the effect Ari has on you is insane. He plays your body like a fiddle, and knows exactly how to get you so wet.

He continues playing with your ass, slapping it and squeezing it and groping it. And you know he’d happily do this for hours if he had the chance. He’d actually done that once, when he’d come to your dorm room at 3 in the morning. He’d been high and horny as hell, and had asked you to lay on your stomach naked while he played with your ass and ate you out from the back for what felt like hours. Not that you were complaining – you were sure you’d fallen asleep and woken up several times to him still playing with your butt. It was clearly his favourite part of your body, and he’d even stuck a finger up there. That had woken you up and made you squeal, and Ari had just laughed and told you to stop being a baby…

Back in the present, you huff indignantly, growing impatient and hoping he’d get the message. But Ari’s in the zone, spreading your ass cheeks and practically making out with your asshole, muttering about how hot your ass is and how he’d tattoo his name on it if he could.

“Daddy! I’m getting’ sore!” You grumble, because your back is hurting from bending over for so long. Mercifully, the brunette chuckles, grabbing your arm and pulling you back up into his lap. But not before he grabs the flimsy lace of your G-string and rips it in half. You gasp although you’re not too surprised, and grab onto his shoulders as he helps you straddle him. And you both let out collective moans as your core nestles on top of his clothed dick that is hard and poking out against his basketball shorts.

“Poor baby,” Ari teases, nipping and biting against your neck as he humps up against you. “Weren’t you mad at me a second ago? And now look at you, naked in the locker room like you’re getting paid to be my personal slut.” He smirks, liking the sound of that as he can’t help but give your ass another rough squeeze, “The captain’s personal slut. You like that, baby? You like being my slut?”

You pout, “You said you’d make me your girlfriend once you broke up with Sharon.”

Ari sighs, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his hard crotch, “Are you still thinking about that?”

“Well, it’s what you said! And now you’ve broken up with her, so –”

“Honey, I will make you my girlfriend.” Ari chucks you under your chin until you giggle, looking up to meet his sparkling eyes. “But we gotta lay low for a while. You know, since Sharon’s uncle died. It wouldn’t be very nice for me to rub my new girl in her face, would it?”

You blink, “I guess not.”

“It wouldn’t.” He confirms. “Look, you’re my special girl and you already know that.” He gives you a quick kiss while his hand holds yours in place over his crotch. “I already told you I’ve never met anyone else like you, haven’t I? So of course, I’ll make you my girl, but you have to be patient.”

You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I can do that.”

“Good girl. Now take my dick out.”

Ari presses your hand inside his shorts, and you feel his dick – so hot and hard – as it pulses against your fingers. You wrap them around the base and pull him out, mouth watering slightly at the sight of his length. Under the bright locker room lights, he looks doubly huge. Every time you see it, you wonder how exactly he fits it inside of you.

You still remember your first time, with the party music blaring in the distance. Ari breathing sweet words against your ear, coaxing you gently while you cried like a baby. Clutching his huge body close to yours as he penetrated you for the first time, calling you his special little baby. Calling you his perfect princess, telling you how good and tight you felt around his daddy dick, promising you how good he’d take care of you. God, it had hurt so much when he’d stuffed himself inside you, but the pleasure that came afterwards was so beautiful and you couldn’t get enough of him since.

“So big, daddy.” You pant, feeling especially little as he holds you in his lap with his hard dick, so red and angry with pent-up lust, throbbing in your hand.

Ari bites his lip, gazing at you with hunger, “Yeah, baby? You like my big dick?”

“L-Love it!”

“Mm, you like how it barely fits inside you? You like how I break your little baby pussy in half every time I fuck you, huh?” He wraps his hand around your smaller one, making you run your hand up and down his length and jack him off.

“Yes, daddy, I love it! Love havin’ you inside me!” You say earnestly, and Ari moans out loud.

His phone vibrates then, and you snap out of your lustful reverie long enough to glance down at the bench where it rests. You see the name SHARON flash on his screen before he grabs it and throws it into his gym bag.

“She’s calling because she wants to set up a time to grab some of her stuff from my dorm room.” Ari explains smoothly when he sees your expression. “Don’t doubt daddy, baby. You know I’d never do you dirty like that.”

You’re all too ready to believe him, letting him lift you up by the hips before he slams you down on his dick. And one second your hole is weepy and empty, and the next you’re stuffed full to the brim with his thick dick. And Ari has to force you down to get it in all the way, his teeth gritted as he drives his huge monster length up your tiny pussy, and you feel like you’ll tear in half but in the best way possible. And all your thoughts and doubts about Sharon are forgotten as Ari completely manhandles you on top of his dick, and you feel so full and you gasp into his mouth as he grabs your face and kisses you sloppily.

“My slutty little girl,” Ari murmurs against your lips, “Coming to all my practices and cheering me on just so you can get your little pussy stuffed to the brim, isn’t that right?”

“N-No! OW! Yes, okay?! YES!” You can’t help but agree with him when he slaps your ass, before lifting you up with his strong arms and driving you back down.

“Tell me you’re my little slut.” He commands.

“I’m your little slut, daddy. Please!” You cry.

“Say it again.”

“I’M YOUR LITTLE SLUT, OKAY? PLEASE, DADDY!”

Ari loves to make you beg and you know it. You remember once in the past, he’d sauntered into your dorm room in the early hours of the morning. He’d sat on your bed like he owned it and lit up a joint, despite you protesting that smoking wasn’t allowed in your dorm. Well, that night he’d sat there and blown smoke in your face while he made you suck his dick. Lazily guiding your face with one hand while he held the joint with the other. And he’d made you beg him to fuck you, beg him for hours before he’d relented. He’d told you he loved playing with you, loved unravelling you till you came undone in his hands. Loved pushing you till the edge, till you were so submissive for him that you could cry.

And cry you had. Big, fat tears pouring down your face as you’d begged him to fuck you. To just put it inside you, even if it was just a little bit. “Just the tip, daddy!” He’d made you beg while your mouth was full of his dick. And you couldn’t believe that you, who’d entered this college as a virgin, were on your knees for the college senior fuckboy while he blew smoke in your face and laughed while you begged and begged for his dick that he’d made you addicted to.

But he always relented in the end. He always gave you that sweet release and then some. Ari was an extremely skilled lover, and he knew just how to make you come undone till you were pulsing around him, almost passed out with pleasure. And then he’d light another joint and when you’d timidly ask for a puff, he’d tell you that babies like you weren’t allowed to smoke. And then he’d laugh some more.

Back in the present, you’re moaning like a wanton whore while Ari bounces you up and down on his dick, and it feels like he’s piercing you open from the inside out while he murmurs dirtily in your ear. And the small locker room is filled with the lewd sound of panting and skin slapping against skin, and you almost don’t hear the loud knocking on the door and the doorknob as it rattles.

“Hey, Levinson! When are you and your side chick gonna be done? The rest of us have to change!”

You head snaps up but Ari presses his lips against yours, his kiss swallowing up all your suspicions.

“It’s just Curtis, you know how much of a dick he can be.” Ari murmurs against your lips, grinding his hips in just the right way that has you feeling that delicious feeling. He moves you up and down at lightning speed, like you’re just a ragdoll that weighs nothing in his strong arms. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head when you feel your clit rubbing against his pubic hair, making you clench around his dick and causing him to swear profusely.

“Goddamit, baby, so good. Your pussy’s so tight and sexy, baby.” He squeezes your tits harshly, twisting your nipples and adding to your bliss as you feel your pleasure mount up.

“G-Gonna cum, daddy,” You whimper, and earn another slap to your ass.

“Not yet, dumb baby. Not unless daddy says so.”

But you can’t wait, you just can’t! Ari had told you once it’s because you were a virgin and knew nothing about sex, nothing about holding your orgasms. He said he’d found it cute how you could never hold it, how you always chased your release selfishly. But you just couldn’t help it! He made you feel so good! How could he expect you to hold anything?

The invisible rubber band snaps inside you and you explode, your slick walls pulsating around his dick as you cum. Waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making your legs feel like jelly as Ari continues to bounce you up and down. His abs and thighs are covered in your cream, and his eyes grow distracted as he stares at the mess you’ve made. And you sob and cling to him, feeling so needy and overwhelmed as he continues to fuck you.

“What a stupid little baby you are.” Ari mocks, slapping your cheek condescendingly while you gaze dazedly up at him. “First, you dress up like a little attention seeking tart just to get me to fuck you, and then you can’t even play by your daddy’s rules, can you? Always so needy, always cumming without permission. Baby, one of these days I’m gonna fuck you in front of my friends just so they can see how badly you take instruction. Maybe that’ll straighten you up, huh?”

“Nooooo…” you cry weakly, pounding at his chest because you feel overwhelmed as he continues to piston his hips up and pierce into you.

“The whole basketball team’s gonna watch me fuck my little slut next time you cum without permission.” Ari says through gritted teeth before he suddenly throws you off his dick. And you gape, staring in awe at his pink dick completely coated in your sticky cream. But not for long, because Ari mauls your naked body till you’re bent over the bench on your hands and knees. He gives your ass three hard smacks, the force of which would’ve knocked you over had his other hand not been holding you in place. And then he shoves himself back into you, fucking you doubly harder than before.

“Oooh my god!” You squeal and you hear him smirk.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me.”

And then he well and truly shifts into jackhammer mode, thrusting into you so hard that his hips become a blur. He grabs you by the hair and pulls you upwards, till your back is against his hairy chest and you can feel him biting against your neck. He gropes your breasts lewdly, pinching your nipples as he angles your head to face forward.

“Look at that, baby.” Ari coos, and you gape at the sight of yourself getting fucking like a whore. He’s made you look into the huge full-length mirror that takes up one side of the room. And you can’t believe how much bigger Ari is than you, like a giant dwarfing you completely as he fucks you. As he completely breaks you in half and mocks you as he does it. “Look at you, getting what you deserve. This is what you wanted, huh? You want me to make you my girl, huh baby? Well that means you let me fuck you whenever and however I want, you got that?”

“Y-Yes, daddy, yes, yes, yes!” You cry, ready to agree with whatever he says as you begin to see stars again.

“Whatever daddy says goes, you got that?” He holds your head in place, forcing you to watch as he ruins you. Forcing you to watch the sweaty mess you’ve become as this beefy, giant of a man has his way with you. “If I tell you I want you to lick my cum off the floor, you’ll do it and say ‘thank you, daddy’, won’t you?”

“I will!”

“And if I tell you I want to fuck your ass, what’re you gonna say sweetheart?”

“Do it!” You sob, delirious and ready to agree with whatever he says. He’s making you see stars like no one else could, forcing the pleasure out of your body through his expert hands, his fat dick and his dirty, controlling words. You love how Ari has the upper hand, how he has control over you in every single way possible. He’s older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you, and he holds you at his mercy and you love it. You get off on it. And you’d do anything he’d tell you to.

“That’s my good little slut.” Ari praises, and you can hear the wolf whistles and hoots through the door of the locker room. You know his friends are on the other side, and you know the walls are thin. You know they can hear every little thing, from Ari’s dirty talk to the sick slap of your skin against his to your wanton moans. You see Ari’s expression in the mirror, and he looks smug and proud, like he’s the king who’s on top of his world right now.

His hand snakes down to rub your clit, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your sob, loving how well he knows your body. How he circles your clit with his finger before pinching it, rubbing it sensually like only he knows how to. And all the while holding you in place while he fucks the living daylights out of you.

“And what if I want you to service my friends, honey? You’d do that too?” Ari whispers darkly in your ear, casually running a hand through his long brown mane as if he hasn’t just said the dirtiest thing in the world. His gaze is locked on yours, gauging your reaction. And why does your pussy clench around his dick when he says it? He laughs mockingly, “What a fuckin’ slut you are, baby. You’d service the whole basketball team, wouldn’t you? Shake your little baby ass for all of them and let them tuck money into those slutty little panties you always wear?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan pitifully, grabbing his forearm as he continues to play with your puffy bundle of nerves. “I’d do it for you, daddy. Fuck, don’t stop! I’d do anything for you!”

“Damn right you would.” Ari boasts, holding you tightly in place against him as his hips continue to move. And you’re sure you’d have fallen down to the ground had he not been there to hold you up. Like a propped-up doll, ready to do her master’s bidding. “And then I’d fuck your ass in front of all of ‘em, so they’d know you belong to me. My slutty little plaything to do with what I please. Remember that.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’ve blacked out for a few seconds. You squirt violently around his dick, milking him as you whine and scream his name, thank him for fucking you so good, making you feel so addicted to his cock as the searing pleasure courses through you. And that’s when you feel his heavy load release inside you, burning you from the inside out.

Ari never wore condoms with you. He said he wanted his pretty baby to feel him raw.

And you can feel him, alright. Every bit of his thick cum as it overflows inside you. Trickling down your thigh because you can’t hold it in, there’s way too much of it. Your legs give out underneath you, and Ari hoists you up into his arms like you’re his little baby. Trembling in his giant arms as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his hairy chest. His dick is still inside you, pulsing out the remainder of his load which seems to be never-ending.

“Attaboy, Levinson, you fuckin’ dog! Thanks for the show!”

You hear the voices laughing and hollering from the other side of the locker room door, but you’re too fucked out to care too much, only focusing on Ari and how big he is as he holds you close.

“Daddy,” you whimper, feeling needy. And Ari presses your face with soft kisses.

“You were so good for me baby,” He praises you, “So good for daddy.” And then he grows distracted by his cum as it trickles out of you, swiping it up from your pussy and pressing it into your mouth. You’re so exhausted but you lick it clean, hoping to impress him. He watches you suckle his finger dry, and you can feel his dick hardening inside you again. “I’ve got you trained so well, baby.”

You look up at him needily, “Am I your girlfriend now, daddy?”

Ari chuckles, setting you down on the bench as you try to catch your breath. He already looks like he’s ready for round two, standing tall and barely having broken a sweat, his dick almost fully hard once more and slapping against his abs. He gives you a condescending pat on the head before pushing his shorts off.

“Soon, baby.” He says before making his way to one of the stalls. He turns and shoots you a wink. “Come join me in the shower once you can walk.”

THE END AKFHSDLANA

I’m so nervous yall! i wrote this so spontaneously and it is the first time in a long time that i have posted an ARI FIC!!! please please let me know what you think! please reblog and leave feedback! let me know what you think of ARI! Is he gonna make her his gf?? is he a good guy??? HOW WAS IT??? let me know!! thank you ily all bye hehe

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @howellatme @sapphossongbird

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

When I’m up against the wall Paul, you’ll find I’m at my best

McLennon

Setting: get back sessions/recording of the Let it be album

Paul McCartney x John Lennon

Word count: 1276

Warnings: smut!, slight swearing, mclennon smut

It’s been a tense couple of days. The group is having a hard time coping with all their feuds. John and Paul are constantly bickering at each other while George and Ringo are left unseen.

Paul seems to be the one attempting to take charge so that they can make their album.

John is pretty frustrated, considering he and Paul haven’t been even remotely close enough lately. Of course with Yoko around all the time it’s not easy getting some time for just the two of them.

Although, Yoko isn’t the only reason they haven’t been engaging in anything special, but Paul sure thinks so.

He’s been growing out his beard recently, and he knows how good he looks. Wearing black turtlenecks and suits to match his "grown up" look. He looks amazing and not only does he know it, he knows that John knows it too.

Paul has caught John eyeing him a few times when he thought he wasn’t looking.

One day John and Paul are just playfully talking about what to do with the album and such. They often have talks like this but this time there is something unspoken between them.

Then suddenly John says “When I’m up against the wall Paul, you’ll find I’m at my best.”

The words hung in the air.

Paul is surprised at Johns remark but he scoffs it off considering they’re not only in front of a lot of people, they are also on camera. But he wanted to push John against the wall right there and then.

John can tell he hit a spark for Paul by saying something so risky yet so innocent for everyone else.

~

Johns comment from earlier stayed with Paul throughout the day.

The idea of having John up against a wall really spoke to him. He felt his pants tighten around his crotch as his bulge grew bigger. He wasn’t visibly turned on but his mind was racing with unholy thoughts.

He was constantly looking over at John when they were playing, attempting to assure himself that John was on the same page he was.

It had been such a long time for them both.

John felt Paul’s eyes on him as he was strumming the guitar. He thought that maybe, Paul wanted him as much as he wanted Paul. He knew he couldn’t resist that sexy beard of his.

Imagining them kissing and Paul’s beard itches against Johns cheeks. Oh how bad John wanted to jump up from his chair and take Paul in his arms and kiss him passionately.

All throughout the rest of the day the pair of them were making eye contact every few seconds. The tension grew larger between them. It used to be an aggravated tension but it was soon turning very seksual.

Paul sat playing the piano while John was packing up his guitar.

George and Ringo and the rest of the crew had left only a few minutes earlier. Yoko was the only one still there.

“That damn Yoko” Paul thought to himself. Maybe he had read too much into the situation. Maybe John was just slow at gathering his things and maybe he was just going to leave with Yoko.

But before Paul could spiral further down that path he heard John tell Yoko to leave because he wanted to go over a few lyrics and ideas with Paul.

Yoko left soon after and then there they were. John and Paul, finally alone.

Paul got up from the piano and began walking towards John, whose back was turned to him. John heard Paul’s footsteps getting closer, and the knot in his stomach tightening with suspense.

Then, John felt Paul’s hands lightly tough his back. Stroking carefully as John turned to face him.

“Care to tell me what that comment you made earlier meant, love?” Paul asked with a smirk across his face. And before John could muster up a response Paul pushed him harshly against the wall behind him. “Because I think you wanted something like this didn’t you eh?”

Paul’s hand travelling up to Johns chin while the other held him in place.

John let out a slight groan as Paul pushed his lips against his. Ramming Johns body even harder into the wall.

The bulge in Paul’s pants pressed into Johns as their kiss grew more passionate. Moans escaping them both as their clothed cocks rubbed against each other.

As foreseen by John, Paul’s beard felt incredibly good to tough and feel.

Their lips parted for a few seconds, giving them time to look into each other eyes and admire the closeness they had.

It didn’t take long before Paul started pulling off Johns shirt. The chilly room making his nipples hard. Paul then went on to remove his own shit and trousers, leaving him in his boxers.

John started unbuckling his belt as Paul watches eagerly. They were both hard as fuck and it showed.

Paul slid a hand to the brim of Johns boxers and pulled them down in a swift motion. Removing his own soon after.

“Let’s see how good you really are against this wall then love, turn around for me yeh”

John turned his back to Paul again, exposing his ass to him. Paul leaned forward and his hand went around Johns neck and into his mouth.

“Suck” Paul exclaimed. “Don’t want yer asshole hurtin too bad now do we?”

And so he did, he sucked Pauls fingers until they were plenty wet with John’s spit.

Paul drew back his hand but stopping right at John lower back. He bent John even further towards a 90 degree angle, but not fully.

Without warning Paul pushed a finger inside him. John let out a loud moan at the sharp pain. Although it quickly turned into pleasure as Paul’s finger moved more rapidly.

He suddenly added another finger and started stretching John out.

John let out moan after moan, the feeling he had been yearning for so long was finally coming to him. He felt Paul getting impatient to fuck him.

“Please Paul, Please fuck me!” John was practically shouting. And before John could muster out anything else Paul slammed into him. His hard cock thrusting deep inside of him.

John’s face was being pushed harshly into the wall and it caused him to shout even louder, but he loved every second of it. They both did.

One of Paul’s hands went to John’s hair tugging roughly, the other went to John dick as he starter jerking him off.

John’s senses were flying and the overstimulation was almost too much to bear.

Paul’s picked up his pace slamming even faster and harder into John now that he had adjusted properly. All the while still jerking off John.

They were letting out loud moans as they both felt their orgasms approaching.

Paul pulled John’s hair ruthlessly as he started coming undone. His cum shooting into John. That was the final straw for John as he came in Paul’s grip.

They were now moaning messes, attempting to gather themselves. John turned to Paul and their lips intertwined once again.

“Yer so fucking good at that Paulie”

“Well you weren’t half bad either John, I reckon we could do this again” Paul smirked.

Paul started getting dress when John grabbed him and pushed him to the wall.

“Next time we’ll se how good you do” John let the words hang as he left the studio, leaving Paul very horny yet again.

~

Hope this was enjoyable, I wrote this when I was half asleep😅

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #28

Plagued 🐀 / Movie(/TV) Star 🎥

echo is back from hiatus @athl0chunk  is it just me or is does ben get bigger with every season of bake-off | trella 💃 @howlatthemoonpie i think its every episode at this point lol

til-u-wobble 🔁 shhhyoudidntseeme

[Two images of Bake-Off judges Ben Kenobi and Satine Kryze on set in the iconic tent. The first image is several years old; the tent’s pastel banners indicate that it’s from the first series. Here, Ben and Satine both smile as they pose in front of a baking station. Satine is a tall, slender white woman with a wavy blonde updo who is wearing a dark teal dress and jade jewellery. Ben, a white man whose dark blonde hair and beard verge on ginger, is slightly taller and wears fitted dark jeans and a charcoal-grey sweater with a blue chambray collar popping out at the neckline. He is slender but for a slight paunch around his middle. In the second image, they stand in a similar pose, though this time they’re smiling at each other, rather than the camera. Satine looks largely the same, while Ben is much, much heavier. His smile emphasises his round cheeks, and his double chin is just visible beneath his beard. He wears a dark green sweater and his jeans are of a similar wash to the first picture. His clothes fit him well and don’t attempt to hide his plump belly and thick hips. One chubby arm rests around Satine’s shoulders. He’s too round for his other arm to sit flat against his side. The purple of Satine’s dress is just visible behind Ben’s bulk, as if she has her hand in his back pocket.]

#omg he got enormous 😍 #you’re so fat (affectionate) but to ben kenobi specifically

3,240 notes 

cheezitenjoyer 🔁 plumpeachpear

plumpeachpear:

SWISS ROLLS …….. ben walks into the tent looking like THAT and they’re going to look these 12 innocent people in the eye and tell them to make SWISS ROLLS???

#oh amidala we’re really in it now

59 notes

unduly persecuted for my correct opinions @lumixnara well i WAS going to have a nice evening watching bakeoff with mum but NOW i guess i will have to walk into the sea ….!

—

kallie 💖💛💙  @springform_pan  putting this out there now: the ship name for ben and satine should be #cremepatandchill | Rafa Martez @cheetochopsticks  omfg yes

h/c dumpster denizen 🌈 @bikewheels2thicc  i can’t believe Anakin hasn’t made a Big Ben joke yet?? low hanging fruit and he DUCKED

norra 👽 @ignorra_me  not me learning to bake so my man will look like that 😩

Roo Page @pageroo  omg they are sooooo married #cremepatandchill | Roo Page @pageroo  the bickering!!! the Looks!!! @bakeoff my little banter-loving heart is so happy #bakeoff🧁 | Roo Page @pageroo omg and it turns into a little cupcake when you use the hashtag 😭 ADORABLE

sinning📍super hell @my_assive_mass  ok i cannot be the only one thirsting over ben kenobi’s tight shirts tho … that popped button has me WET | sinning📍super hell @my_assive_mass  yes i logged into my horny alt to tweet this WHAT OF IT

✨ Sugi ✨ @SoSugiSays  i just want ben kenobi to raw me while i shove pastries into his mouth is that too much to ask | ✨ Sugi ✨ @SoSugiSays  cannot express how deeply i hope that they never make ben kenobi do one of those reading thirst tweets interviews bc the things i have twote about that man … i am not seeing heaven … | farrah @my_onaconda_dont  NO because i just know he would get so red and flustered :>

time-to-size-up ​​🔁 stretchmarks-r-us

[An image of Barriss Offee standing at her Bake-Off station. She is wearing a white T-shirt, a light brown apron, and a black hijab. She is squinting at the sheet of paper holding the technical challenge instructions, which she is holding less than a centimetre from her face.]

#me and the girls analyzing every gifset of ben kenobi for The Jiggle™ 

233 notes

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Dr. Pudge @bibfortuna normal people at 2am: sleeping me at 2am: so you can actually tell that he’s gaining weight during the season by looking at how in s5e1, his sweater is smooth/unrumpled, but by s5e6 there’s a lump over his belly where the button has come undone under his sweater. in this essay i w

borkus (derogatory) @jaspermcknives  ben kenobi looks like he eats all the bakes himself and honestly i love that for him. we stan a fat king

kiera 🦢 @dimple_simp  OH MY GOD DID HE BURST A BUTTON ASFJDLASFLKJFA;S | thot cross buns @karinathegreat  look at satine lOOK AT SATINE

peli @pelicantweet yeah i’m into GBBO G ben’s Gut B ursting B uttons O ff

vintage lesbian @kallmeklaya oh satine is not beating the little freak allegations this week

—

Fat Bucky Truther @letta_turmond oh that chair is a choice he is STRUGGLING … 😳🥵 ben my man it is time to size up

poggle the lesser @pillsburythighrolls  SO THEY??? CHOSE??? NOT TO EDIT THIS OUT??!!? LIKE?!?! THIS IS NOT LIVE TV?!?!?! | jinx 🏳️‍⚧️ (xe/xir) @peach_gobbler  they did that for us 😭😔✊ | poggle the lesser @pillsburythighrolls THANK U POST TEAM WE ARE EATING TODAY | jinx 🏳️‍⚧️ (xe/xir) @peach_gobbler  yeah and SO IS HE

Jen June 🏳️‍🌈🌌 she/her @thefatkosmos  the bake-off chair thing isn’t funny, it’s fatphobic. if your show is backed by a massive international streaming giant, you have no business not providing your stars with furniture they can safely and comfortably use, never mind FIT IN. 🧵 1/?

eleni @vanillaxxxxtract  a short recap of tonight’s bake-off episode 🙈: 💁🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♂️🖋🍩👩🏾‍🍳📏🥐👨🏼‍🍳🎪🥮🧑🏽‍🍳👱🏻‍♀️👨🏻‍🦰🪑💥🙇🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♂️🌟👩🏾‍🍳😅😰😱😳🤯🥵😵 | eleni @vanillaxxxxtract  yes the end of that is me having a horny meltdown what about it you can’t stop me from living + livetweeting my extremely trashy truth

thelovehandlehandler 🔁 slurpin-and-glurpin

ratsummer:

satine. bestie. i love you and i need you to know from the bottom of my heart that everyone watching bbc2 rn knows exactly what your kinks are

#EVERYONE WATCHING BBC2!?! EVERYONE WITH NETFLIX GIRLIE #WE CAN ALL SEE YOU!!!

520 notes

korkie @korkryze guys can you please make it through ONE episode of bakeoff without getting weird about my aunt

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jedi mind trix [she/they] @beatrixbaking omg they literally got him like a giant reinforced chair holy shit  | siri @hey_siri AND HE’S STILL OVERFLOWING IT

projectguttenberg 🔁burpsmakemeblush

onlyalittlevanilla:

Ok but I actually do want to talk about Ben Kenobi from GBBO bc I think it’s cool that they don’t really treat/shoot/talk about him differently even though he’s gained weight. I can count on one hand the number of fat people I’ve seen on TV who tick all of the “actually fat not just Hollywood fat,” “well-dressed and respected and not treated as a slob,” and “considered to be at least generally handsome by the narrative” boxes at once. And it’s so refreshing to (a) see a celebrity chef who actually looks like they eat/enjoy food and (b) see a fat person get to talk about and eat and enjoy food on TV without it being stigmatized somehow! If I had to guess I’d put him around 350-ish lbs (~158 kg or 25 st for my non-USAmerican followers) and that just feels REVOLUTIONARY for mainstream TV! If he were in a sitcom he would get pigeonholed into some stupid weight loss storyline like that poor beautiful girl from that other show and here in the tent he just gets to be an expert in his craft and have insane chemistry with his costar who obviously thinks he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread and I LOVE IT. 

#YEAH LIKE #im gonna need whoevers running bakeoff right now to start doing every other genre of television #put fat people in everything and LET THEM BE HOT

5,391 notes

doublechinsforthewin 🔁projectguttenberg

onlyalittlevanilla:

Ok but I actually do want to talk about Ben Kenobi from GBBO bc I think it’s cool that they don’t really treat/shoot/talk about him differently even though he’s gained weight. I can count on one hand the number of fat people I’ve seen on TV who tick all of the “actually fat not just Hollywood fat,” “well-dressed and respected and not treated as a slob,” and “considered to be at least generally handsome by the narrative” boxes at once. If I had to guess I’d put him around 350-ish lbs (~158 kg or 25 st for my non-USAmerican followers) and that just feels REVOLUTIONARY for mainstream TV! If he were in a sitcom he would get pigeonholed into some stupid weight loss storyline like that poor beautiful girl from that other show and here in the tent he just gets to be an expert in his craft and have insane chemistry with his costar who obviously thinks he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread and I LOVE IT. 

doublechinsforthewin:

NOT TO MENTION that how refreshing it is to (a) see a celebrity chef who actually looks like they eat/enjoy food and (b) see a fat person get to talk about and eat and enjoy food on tv without it being stigmatized somehow?? And idk it just gets me that they have clearly made accommodations for him (ie chair, more fans during hot weather, fiddly stuff on edges got rearranged after he bumped into Jocasta’s jar of flour) rather than having him lose weight or something. His contract must be absolutely insane but clearly someone is fighting for him and I love when you can kind of see it bleed through from behind the scenes

#like it means so much to me #as a very fat person who also bakes for a living #my personal headcanon is that satine is his pit bull for stuff like this but obviously i have no proof lol

5,394 notes

Jen June 🏳️‍🌈🌌 she/her @thefatkosmos okay, you know what, they did ok with this. they listened, took accountability, and got the man a decent chair. good for them.  | Jen June 🏳️‍🌈🌌 she/her @thefatkosmos  the bake-off chair thing isn’t funny, it’s fatphobic. if your show is backed by a massive transatlantic company AND a streaming giant, you have no business not providing your stars with furniture they can safely and comfortably use, never mind FIT IN. 🧵 1/? | Jen June 🏳️‍🌈🌌 she/her @thefatkosmos should it have taken a whole ass twitter debacle instead of like. literally anyone on set clocking that his chair was too small? PROBABLY NOT, but. yanno. hollywood 🙃

d0ugh-duchess 🔁 dontjuststandthere-bustanut

[An image of Ben Kenobi and Satine Kryze on the set of Bake-Off, discussing who will win Star Baker and who will be eliminated this week. Satine, a thin, blonde, white woman, sits in a delicate white chair with curly armrests at a round table draped in a robin’s egg blue tablecloth. Ben, a fat white man with strawberry-blond hair and a beard, sits across the table from her in a much sturdier-looking white chair without armrests. Between them are the four remaining contestants’ bakes from today’s challenges. Satine’s chair is pulled in close to the table, and her elbows rest on the tabletop, but Ben sits back in his chair, his ample belly filling his lap.]

#ngl i kinda miss the eps where he was still trying to fit into that teeny little lawn chair 😅 #listen im a simple woman with simple needs and mainstream media fulfills NONE OF THEM #pls don’t drag me for this that’s why i put in the tags #god can’t see it if you put it in the tags!

4,677 notes

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484 by tummyrollsss

The Great British Bake-Off RPF

No Archive Warnings Apply, Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Weight Gain, Light Angst, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Fluff, Established Relationship, Body Worship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Stuffing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, (feedist version), Burping, Hiccups, fat Ben Kenobi, like he’s FAT fat, you have been warned, dom!Satine Kryze, making that a tag, i just think she’d like to be in charge!, the author’s barely disguised numbers kink, no beta we die like ben’s chair

After the chair fiasco, Satine wants to see how much bigger Ben can get before the season is over.

Language: English   Words: 19,302    Chapters: 10/10    Comments: 31    Kudos: 303 Bookmarks: 55    Hits: 7,721

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toastwithextrabutter 🔁 thebstandsforbbw

thequeerfeedress:

me seeing “gay representation” on tv: thats not me

me seeing sat!ne kr¥ze quietly lose her shit on gbbo every week: shes just like me fr

849 notes

obiroundkenobi 🔁 himboswithhiccups

[A photoset of six screencaps from series 5 of Bake-Off. The photoset is captioned “Satine Kryze gracefully white-knuckling her way through feedist hell 1/???” Top left: Satine and Ben Kenobi listen as Kit Fisto describes his signature bake. Ben’s big belly rests on the counter of Fisto’s baking station. Satine looks perfectly normal except that she is clutching a rolling pin for literally no reason. Top right: Ben cutting himself a sizable second slice of Barriss Offee’s pineapple upside-down cake with his free hand resting on the plump curve of his belly. Satine, just visible behind him, is smiling with her mouth while her eyes do a thousand-yard stare. Middle left: Ben smiles good-naturedly as he brushes powdered sugar from near the hemline of his sweater and accidentally reveals a sliver of the bottom curve of his belly, straining against the pale blue button-down he’s wearing underneath. Satine is all the way across the tent, but she’s looking at him nonetheless. Middle right: Satine and Ben sitting across from each other at the judges’ table after the showstopper, mid-conversation. Ben is very clearly too big for the little white garden chairs but is valiantly wedged in despite the fact that the armrests are basically lost in his side rolls and his hips are so wide that they’re overflowing the seat. Ben is carefully leaning forward to pull a plate toward him, while Satine holds a knife and fork and has cut the petit four on her plate into about eighteen pieces. Bottom left: Ben with his eyes closed in pleasure after taking a bite from one of Steela Gerrera’s signature hazelnut-cardamom creme brulees. Satine is looking on perfectly affably, but host Anakin Skywalker is looking at her with one eyebrow pointedly raised. Bottom right: Ben and Satine sit at the judges’ table, a split second before that really obvious cut. Ben is spilling out of his little garden chair and his face shows a look of slightly panicked surprise. Satine is just starting to jump up from her own chair, one hand thrown out toward Ben like a life raft. The fingers of both her hands are splayed wide, and although it’s not verified by the episode’s subtitles or closed captions, her mouth forms a word that looks a lot like “Fuck!”] 

#god is she dying up there i would be dying #shoutout to satine kryze for living out all of our kinkiest dreams #we love you queen #bakeoff #creme pat and chill

6,905 notes

chouxpersizeme 🔁 thickfrosting

thickfrosting: 

god i hope they just. let bakeoff keep (d)evolving into a feedist wonderland afjalskdfj. last week: wildly obvious camouflage bc ben popped a button on air. this week: unsubtle cut bc bens chair (?!?) broke (?!?!?!?!) when he sat down. next week: satine rubs bens belly and he burps onscreen. during the final they reenact The Cake Scene from matilda. lets keep this going for the love of god this is the most alive ive felt in months 

#RIGHT THOUGH I FEEL INSANE #feels like watching yuri on ice as it was airing #us every week: THEY DON’T MEAN- THEY CAN’T- THEY’RE NOT GONNA -??!??! #yoi creators every week: lmao fucking WATCH US #looks meaningfully at netflix #WELL??? ARE YOU GONNA?!?!

3,879 notes

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Things They Carried: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Cole is back in Dean's life, not to kill him but to ask for his help. A worm is making its way through people and eventually through Cole, giving you the perfect opportunity to get the chaos you're craving.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

There is a fireplace in the living room of the cabin that Dean wants to use to get it hot in here, but there is no wood available. The only wood available is out back in the shed.

"Go get some wood," Dean says to you.

"No. You're the one who wants to save him. You do it."

"Fuck, Y/N! There's no way I'm leaving you alone with him!"

"What, do you think I'm going to kill him?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Dean, if I wanted him dead, he would be."

"Go get the wood," Cole says to Dean. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, he'll be fine," you smirk.

Dean has no choice but to go a few yards away from the cabin where the shed is. As soon as he leaves the cabin, you stand up with a smirk. This is just what you are looking for. You rub your hands together and close your eyes to focus. When you open them, they're bright red with magic. You create a ball of red magic and shoot it outside the cabin into the darkness.

"What are you doing?" Cole asks.

"Bringing you something that will make you feel better." Less than five minutes later, a ragged-looking man walks into the cabin. His hair is long and tangled, he has an overgrown beard, his clothes are torn in most places, and he walks with a slight limp. You grab the man's shoulder and push him toward Cole who catches him before he can fall. "Kill him."

"Excuse me?"

"You're thirsty, right? I say skip a few steps and go right to the source you're craving. Kill him before I kill you."

"No, I'm not going to kill an innocent man!"

Your eyes shine bright red just as his eyes do. You're manipulating his mind without even lifting a finger. God, you love magic.

"I said kill him."

Cole grabs a knife from Dean's stash of weapons and turns to the man who is clearly scared. Cole tries to resist your magic but you're too powerful for even the toughest of minds. Dean walks in right as Cole raises the knife, and he drops every piece of wood he's holding.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

Dean runs over to Cole and grabs the knife from his hand, pushing him away. Cole knocks into the table and falls on his ass, and that's enough to break him out of his trance. Dean drops the knife and walks over to you with an angry look on his face.

"You're not doing this here." He grabs your shoulders in a tight grip and pulls you into him. "Not now. What the hell is the matter with you?"

You turn to look at the stranger who looks around in a confused daze. Your eyes shine red as does his, and he grabs the knife Dean dropped on the ground. He stabs himself in the neck where his carotid artery is, and he falls to the ground in a pool of his own blood. You push Dean away from you and grab his jaw as tightly as you can. He struggles to get out of your grip but you hold him close so he can't.

"Just because I'm legally married to you and you're the father of my children does not mean I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your head. That's strike two. Don't let it get to three."

You shove him away from you and go back to sitting on your fur throne. Dean rubs his jaw where your fingers just were, but he stays silent. He knows better not to challenge you right now. You look down at the dead man at your feet before looking at Cole. He's staring at the blood with a hunger he's trying to fight.

"You know, for whenever you're feeling thirsty," you smirk and cross your legs once again.

"Cole, don't do it. I got the wood. You're going to be okay."

Dean grabs pieces of wood and throws them into the fireplace. He grabs the kerosene, douses the wood, lights a match, and throws it on the wood. Dean's phone rings and he looks at you with tears in his eyes. He hates leaving you alone with Cole knowing what you just pulled but he has to take this call.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Sammy," Dean sniffles and turns so you don't see his tears.

"What happened?"

"She killed someone. She lured someone here with her magic and wanted Cole to kill him. She did it instead. She... How I can still pretend that she's my wife? I honestly don't know if she's past saving."

"We're going to get her back. You heard Cas. You're doing everything you can to help her."

"Yeah," Dean scoffs and wipes his tears away.

"How is Cole doing?"

"We're dehydrating him. Sweating out the worm. Everything has a weakness, right?"

Dean thinks about you and wonders if you have a weakness. You're not afraid of anything. You don't have emotions to make you afraid. Maybe it's not about targeting your feelings. Maybe it's about targeting your magic. All magic has a weakness. He has to figure out what it is.

"Yeah, if it works," Sam says, bringing Dean back.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, l do, Dean. We know how to end this."

"Yeah, plan 'B' for 'bullet', but we're not quite there yet so just hold tight. How's Jemma?"

"She's barely holding on. Look, Dean, Kit is gonna come to and when l got here, it was bad."

"We're on the clock. I got it." Dean looks at Cole who is shaking from how hard he's fighting the urge to grab the dead man and drink his blood. "Hey, don't focus on that, man. You're doing great."

You get up and grab a water bottle from the bag. It's lukewarm but you use your magic to make it ice cold. You open it and take a swig, making sure to gasp in pleasure from the sensation.

"Damn, that is good water. Do you want some?" you ask and hold it out to Cole.

Dean slaps the water out of your hand and it goes flying across the room. Cole watches it hit the wall, and you smirk at Dean.

"My dad had something inside him, too, right?" Cole asks and looks up at Dean from his spot on the floor. "Do you think this is what he felt like when he turned?"

"Maybe. I mean, he was human before he was a monster."

"I get it. I get why you did it, Dean. My dad wasn't my dad anymore. If l go down that same road, I want you to do that to me, too."

"That road? That means giving up. If you think that's where you're headed, then you've got it ass-backward. You're gonna fight harder than you ever have. Do you understand me?"

You grab another bottle and drink some of it, making sure to tip your head back so Cole can watch the water go down your throat. His hand twitches and he immediately stands up. He walks past you, steps over the dead man, and sits down in a wooden chair.

"Dean, will you do me the honor of tying me to this chair?"

"Yeah."

Dean walks over to him and takes some rope out of his stash. As he's tying him up, Cole looks over at you and the water in your hands.

"Do it," you whisper, barely audible.

Cole punches Dean in the face and jumps up from his seat. He lunges for the water in your hands, and you all but hand it to him. Dean lunges for his friend and fights for the bottle of water. Cole gets a gulp before Dean is ripping the bottle away from him. He pushes Cole to the ground and takes out his gun.

"Come on. We both know you're not gonna do it," Cole laughs.

"You are gonna sweat this one through."

"I can't, Dean!"

"Yes, you can. Listen to me. Yes, you can. Think about your family, hmm? Your wife and your kid. Do you hear me?"

"I appreciate the talk, coach. Honestly, all l can think about is slicing your wrist and drinking you like a fountain. Guess that makes me a monster, doesn't it?"

"Don't make me pull this trigger," Dean begs.

"You want blood? Dean is right there. He's for the taking so take it," you say and step out of the way. "He won't shoot you. Right Dean?" You look at him and smirk. "You won't move a muscle."

"What are you--why can't I move? Y/N!"

Dean tries to move his legs to run but can't. He tries to move his arm to get the gun away from Cole but can't. Cole gets up on shaky legs and Dean starts struggling against your magic. Cole takes a step toward Dean but stops. He tips his head back and you and Dean can see the Kahn worm slide up his throat. Cole chokes and gags until he spits out the worm onto the floor. Knowing Cole is going to be fine, you release the hold you have on Dean, and he immediately stomps on the worm to kill it.

"Yay, everyone is saved," you say sarcastically and sit back on the fur chair. "Except for that guy."

"Are you okay?" Dean asks, choosing to ignore you for now.

"Yeah. Thank God. Thank you," Cole sighs in relief.

Dean pulls out his phone and calls Sam.

"Sammy, we did it. Cole's alright. Get Kit over here as soon as you can."

"It's too late."

"Awh, Kit died. Too bad for you," you say and get up.

Cole looks distraught at the news, and he looks at Dean to see if it's true. With one nod of his head, Cole buries his head in his hands and cries. Sam makes it back to the cabin where he and Dean start putting the tools and weapons back into the car. Cole, after having a moment to himself and after calling Jemma, joins them outside.

"Hey, Cole. Listen, for whatever it's worth, I really wish it hadn't ended this way," Sam sighs.

"Yeah, me too, Sam."

"Kit was going to kill her."

"I know. Jemma told me everything. A soldier goes crazy and attacks his wife. She had to kill him or at least that's the story that she's got to tell. I guess I've seen it all now."

"Some. Not all."

"I just want to go home and see my family. I want to thank you, Dean, for keeping me standing." He looks into the cabin through a window and sees you watching them. "You had some obstacles but you did alright."

"Don't worry about her. We'll deal with her. You take care of yourself, you hear?"

"I will but I still hope I don't see the three of you anymore. No offense."

"None taken," Sam chuckles.

Cole gets into his jeep and takes off down the road, and you leave the cabin to join the brothers' side. Sam sighs and slams the trunk closed.

"Don't blame yourself for Kit, man."

"I can't help it, Dean. It feels shitty."

"I know it does."

"I tried. I really did. I just couldn't save this one."

"You know, you can do everything right, and even still, sometimes the guy still dies." Dean looks at you and he sighs. "Start her up. I'll be right there."

Sam takes the keys and gets in the passenger seat while Dean walks over to you with angry eyes.

"Come on, Dean. What did you expect of me?" you chuckle.

"I don't know, Y/N. I don't know who you are anymore. In fact, I don't want you in my life until you're back to normal. What you did today was out of control. You are becoming what we hunt!"

You can't help but laugh at him. His bravery amuses you. You step closer to him so that your toes are touching, and you lose your smile to show him how serious you are.

"What are you going to do about it? What power do you have over me?"

Dean leans closer to you.

"I'm gonna find that cure and shove it down your throat."

"You do that and I'll still be soulless. I'll find those children of ours and skin them alive in front of you. Stop looking for the cure. I don't want it. It's you or them. Pick one."

You shove your shoulder into his shoulder as you walk past him toward the car. You slide into the back seat and put your headphones on, a clear sign that you don't want to talk to anyone. You put on the loudest song you own and stare out the window. Dean swallows down his fear that you'll hurt his children to spite him. He gets behind the wheel and starts the drive back to civilization.

"Hey, I might have found something on the cure for the Mark," Sam says after an hour of driving. Dean looks into the rearview mirror to see you with your headphones on and playing a game on your phone. "It could help."

"Sam, we have checked every website, okay? We've checked it twice. Sammy, when we work a case, there's always that point when we have to face the truth, right? Even if we don't like it. Well, the truth is there's no way around this. We saw what happened to Cain, okay? I'm not happy about it, but l have to move on." He looks at Sam with tears in his eyes. "I am begging you, Sam, okay? Please drop it. Please."

He'd never be able to live with himself if his children got hurt because of him.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

okokok because this gq shoot is already one of my favs from chris ok so hear me out:

seb comes along to every interview, premiere and event chris goes to. he's happy to watch his boyfriend mingle with the reporters and answer their questions, just happy to be around chris, talking to his publicist when he's busy off getting his photo taken. but when it's shoot day?

seb brings his camera.

he literally has a whole folder in his phone with hundreds of photos of chris posing for another camera, and others of chris just sitting there, looking perfect and handsome as ever, some of him taking sips of water from a straw and close ups of his mouth wrapped around it (because he's just so beautiful and seb likes getting detailed shots). chris doesn't know that seb has those photos but he finds it endearing that seb likes coming along to these shoots that can sometimes last hours and produce only a few decent shots.

seb will look at the photos when chris isn't around or when he's missing him, looking at the slight pout of his lips chris does when he's posing, the different angles of his jawline that make it appear even sharper, the cherry red of his lips, the mischievous sparkle in his eye. naturally, seb is going to have a visceral reaction to these photos and the thoughts that come along with them, but like hell is he going to let chris know he jerks off to photos of him not even doing anything. just sitting there and looking like he always does, maybe with a little more product in his hair or some lining up of his beard. he'd never let chris know the simplest of poses get seb off.

but he doesn't have to, because seb eventually gets too desperate one day when chris is out - shopping for gods sake - and starts touching himself. he's so wrapped up in feeling good that he doesn't notice chris has been standing in the doorway watching him fuck his fist to a photo from a fresh shoot, one where they used less natural lighting and shadows to make the hard lines of chris face stand out and the veins running from his hands to his forearms stand out.

sebs imagining being manhandled by those hands when chris does just that, striding into the room and taking sebs wrists, growling out something about being 'so desperate he couldn't even wait a few hours?' and sebs cheeks burn with further humiliation when chris spots the photo of him on his phone, scrolling a few more times and seeing more of the same type of pictures.

chris promptly reminds seb that he shouldn't need to look at photos of chris to get off because he has the real thing right here, right now, warm and solid between his legs.

"How about I give you a reminder of what you get to come home to every day, huh? These pictures can't touch you, can't fuck you like you need so badly. But I can - will you let me do rhat for you, baby? Let me make you feel good?"

chris starts kissing him before seb can reply and, yes, of course seb fucking wants that.

sorry if this was long lmao

-arch

related to this new GQ shoot

ARCHIE YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO BE SORRY ABOUT THIS!

Why, how, and WHY is the idea of Sebastian jerking off to "normal," "regular," "innocent" photos of Chris so fucking hot??

Oh, right, because that level of desperation and being head-over-heels crazy for someone is fucking obscene! That's why!

You can not change my mind, Chris says that to Sebastian and Sebastian straight up moans into his mouth. Jesus Christ.

There's no way he could forget that real life Chris is better than any photo, but he will take every reminder Chris is willing to give him. He will take anything Chris wants to give him 😏

How dare you write something so hot? Do it again.

I love, love, LOVE this idea. Sebastian being around, constantly unable to drag his eyes away from Chris. Sebastian being reduced to an absolute needy mess with and without Chris present. Chris getting possessive against himself. Jesus. This is too hot, hot damn!

THANK YOU for sending this my way 😮‍💨😮‍💨

And might I offer you my own thoughts about the GQ shoot here, and here?

[khawthorneofficial]

Fragments, on the Muses (an Ancient Greek sapphic love story)

Chapter One- Acantha

Content warning for explicit language and references to SA/abuse

I never thought I would have much agency in how my life went. I was born the youngest child and only daughter of an Athenian politician called Evander and his wife, Melora. My mother had survived through birthing my six older brothers, but she passed away giving birth to me. Father was always distant with me growing up, and on some level I think he blamed me for her death.

When I was young, I’d played with my brothers a lot. We’d wrestle or race each other barefoot, and I remember wishing so that I’d been born in Sparta, where that kind of thing was acceptable. As it was though, any time that my father caught me tussling with my brothers, he’d just look me up and down, cluck his tongue, and just send me off for the maids to clean. I got along great with the maids, since they were the only other women in the household, but I wasn’t allowed to actually be friends with any of them. They weren’t even permitted to tell me their names.

As my father aged, he started to prime my brothers to follow his footsteps and go into politics. But I was left alone. Since I was the only girl, there wasn’t much I could do for my father’s reputation. Well, there was one thing- I could always get married. When my father married my mother, she’d been sixteen years old, and he had been twenty or so years her senior. They’d been married for about thirteen or so years before her death. I expected similar, to be wed at around fourteen or fifteen to a man in his thirties. But little did I know just how drastic the difference would be.

I was only twelve years old, not even having bled for the first time, when my father called me into the main room of our house. I came running up to him in bare feet- of course they were bare. I was a child, and I found sandals restricting, so I always ran everywhere in bare feet. My father and the servants always scolded me for it, saying that I would turn the soles of my feet permanently black with dirt. When I came into the room, my father was sitting in his high-backed chair, his face stern. Another man stood next to him. The man looked vaguely familiar, I thought I might have seen him at banquets my father had hosted in the past. He was tall with a weathered, tan face and dark curly hair and beard.

“Acantha,” my father said. “You remember Leonidas, my colleague.” I looked up at the man, finally placing his face. He didn’t utter a word, instead choosing to acknowledge me with a silent nod. I could feel his dark, hawklike eyes panning over my body. It made me feel uncomfortable to say the least.

“I do,” I said. “But what does a visit from a colleague have to do with me?”

“Because Leonidas,” my father said, “is not here on political business, but other business that we have discussed extensively. I called you here, Acantha, to tell you that in a month’s time, you will wed Leonidas.”

A violent shudder ran through my body and I felt as if I would vomit in my own mouth. Leonidas looked to be about my father’s age, which meant he had to be at least fifty, at least four times my age if not five or six. My father explained that he’d been married twice before, but both of his wives had passed away from illness without bearing him any children. Leonidas, like all men, desired sons, and he hoped that, once I began to bleed, I would give them to him. I hated the idea of carrying a child and giving birth, loathed it with my entire being. I was too small and slight to accommodate a baby.

Leonidas stood and walked closer to me.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your father assures me this will be an excellent match. I will do my duty as your husband if you’ll do yours as my wife.”

“But I don’t want to marry you,” I said. I was still a child- innocent and naive. I spoke my mind. It didn’t matter to me that talking back to my future husband was a grievous mistake. Leonidas threw back his head and laughed.

“Poor, sweet, girl,” he said. “You know well that it isn’t the fashion for women to pick their husbands. My wife passed away a few months ago- we’d been married for sixteen years, but not a single child, let alone a son- and last night at a banquet I talked to your father and our colleagues about how I was in the market for a new bride. Your father volunteered you instantly. ‘My only daughter is coming up on a marriageable age,’ he said. ‘You should wed her’.” I bit my lip. It wasn’t unheard of for a girl to marry at twelve, but it certainly wasn’t common.

My father cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, “you may be dismissed now, Acantha. Leonidas and I have other matters to discuss.” I nodded, turned tail, and ran. But instead of returning outside where I’d been playing, I ran straight up to my room, where I threw myself on my bed and cried.

~

A month passed, and the day arrived that I was to be married to Leonidas. I lay in bed, contemplating pretending to be sick so that I wouldn’t have to go, but the maids practically dragged me out of bed. The soles of my feet were soiled back from an outside run the night before, which I knew would be my last, so the maids held me down and scrubbed them clean. Then I was dressed in an elegant white silk dress and jeweled sandals. My father had asked the maids to tailor the dress specifically for me, since I was still quite a bit smaller than my mother had been when she married, and her dress, though it was still perfectly preserved in a carved chest of olive wood, was far too big to fit me.

I stayed dejectedly silent the entire time the maids were dressing me. Once I had been fully clad, they turned their attentions to my face, making it up. Then we went by chariot to Leonidas’ home.

“Make the most of it,” my father told me on the chariot ride there, tucking a lily blossom behind my ear- coincidentally the flower sacred to Hera, goddess of marriage. “This wedding is taking place whether you want it to or not, so you might as well try to be happy in your new life with Leonidas. I do believe he’ll make a fit husband for you.”

“Very well, Father,” I said, staring down at my sandal-clad feet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn sandals. I took my father’s advice and tried to get used to the fact that I would soon be married. I mulled over the words my husband in my mind over and over again, but they just didn’t feel right. Leonidas was more than old enough to be my father, perhaps even my grandfather, and yet I, a mere girl, was expected to be his wife and give him children.

Our chariot stopped in front of Leonidas’ hall, and one of his servants, a boy of maybe eighteen, came out to meet us.

“Are you guests for lord Leonidas’ wedding?” he asked, looking us up and down.

“We’re here for the wedding, but we’re no guests,” my father said, getting down from the chariot and then helping me off. “My daughter Acantha is to be Leonidas’ bride.”

“Oh, very well,” the servant said, turning to another of the servants, an older woman who stood in the doorway. “Kindly inform the master that his bride has arrived.” The woman nodded and stepped inside the house.

Once Leonidas had been informed of my arrival, he came out of the house to greet us. I felt incredibly small in his presence.

“Hello,” he said in that gruff voice of his. “Once the rest of the guests have arrived, the wedding party will escort us to the temple of Hera. There, the marriage rites will be held. After that, we’ll all come back here for a feast.” I nodded carefully.

“Yes, sir.” He cracked a grin.

“Sir? I see someone has finally had a change of heart. Perhaps you shan’t be such a difficult wife after all.” He invited my father and I inside, and I took my first look around my new home. It was so much larger than Father’s, which surprised me since Leonidas lived alone apart from his servants.

One by one over the next hour, the wedding guests began to trickle in, until eventually Leonidas declared us ready to go to the temple. I rode in my father’s chariot one last time.

Leonidas and I stood at the altar, and I could feel his dark eyes boring into me like a hungry animal’s, like he couldn’t wait to tear into me. I bit into my lip so hard that my teeth broke skin and I tasted blood. The actual rites were a blur. I said everything that I was supposed to say and I didn’t object.

After the ceremony was over, I plucked the lily from behind my ear and dropped it on the temple floor, crushing it beneath my sandaled heel. Then I went to join my new husband in his chariot for the ride back to his- no, our hall.

I sat next to Leonidas at the head of the table for the duration of the feast. He at least tried to make a show of being tender, running his fingers through my hair and feeding me little bits of food, but the entire time he kept his thick, muscled hand clamped on my childish stick of a leg, the fingers twitching in a way that told me he was just itching to tear my dress off and ravish me.

I looked across the table to my father with pleading eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. After all, I wasn’t his problem anymore. I’d been married off. I belonged to my husband now, and I couldn’t just go running back to my father.

Leonidas must have noticed me staring down at my sandals. He slid his leathery fist under my chin and tilted my face up towards his, kissing me on the mouth. I wanted to cry, but I knew I had to stay strong. I could cry all I wanted tonight, but for now, in front of everyone, I had to put on a brave face.

~

The feast lasted for several hours, but after a while the guests started to trickle out of the hall until finally it was my father’s turn to go. He didn’t even bother with saying goodbye, just looked at me standing next to Leonidas with a look of satisfaction on his face.

Once he was gone, Leonidas guided me back to the bedchamber.

“This is going to hurt,” he informed me. “But it’ll be over quickly. Try not to cry.”

I bit my lip. I’d always been told my first time with a man would hurt, of course, but it felt so much worse to hear it from the man himself- my new husband. It felt so wrong to say still. This was Leonidas, my father’s colleague- not my husband, never my husband. The word husband itself felt dirty in my mouth, but in that moment I knew what I had to do to survive. Leonidas could make my life hell if he wanted to, so I lay down prone on the bed where he could do what he wanted with me.

“Of course, my husband,” I said, choking back a sob.

At least Leonidas was right about one thing- it was over quickly. My first marital blood came before my first menstrual blood, and I wanted to cry, but I kept it inside, at least until he was done. He came away with that same feral look on his face, like a wild beast that had just slaughtered its prey. When I dared to look lower, I saw the blood of my maidenhead staining his thighs, which made me want to cry even more.

“Cry all you want now,” he told me. “As long as you do your duty as a wife, how you feel about it doesn’t matter.” He threw my dress back at me like nothing had just happened and turned to walk out of the room.

~

The days seemed to pass in a slow crawl now. I could mostly do what I wanted around the hall in the daytime, but at mealtimes I sat next to Leonidas at the head of his table and every night, I was called to his bed. However, a few months after our wedding everything changed once again when my first woman’s blood came.

It appeared in the middle of the night, staining the white sheets of our bed pink with blood. I didn’t notice it until I woke in the morning. Leonidas had already up and gone without seeing it, so I called in a maid to clean up the mess. I knew what this meant, and I knew that I couldn’t let Leonidas see it. If he knew my blood had come, he’d no longer be content to make our nights quick. He’d start expecting for me to give him sons any day now. So I hid it. Lucky for me that night, he came home entirely too tired for our normal routine, so he went to sleep immediately. I slept with a wet rag pressed between my legs so the newly cleaned sheets wouldn’t stain and give me away.

Through some sheer luck, I somehow avoided being found out by Leonidas for my first two or three cycles. I’d tell him I was under the weather and couldn’t please him tonight, and he’d grumble about it, but believe me. I felt like a horrible, deceitful girl. I’d always been taught lying was wrong. But I reminded myself this was a matter of survival. A pregnancy would surely kill me, and if it didn’t, childbirth would. It had killed my mother. Some nights I had nightmares of myself meeting her exact fate- safely giving birth to six sons, only to die in childbirth with my seventh- a daughter. Then perhaps when that daughter turned twelve, she would be married off to one of Leonidas’ other colleagues five times her age, and the cycle would repeat. I lay awake at night, crying and praying to any god I knew might possibly help me.

Finally, one night, shortly after I had turned thirteen, I was on my cycle but Leonidas wouldn’t take no for an answer. He chased me around the room until I tripped on a sandal and fell onto the bed. He smiled and lifted my dress, seeing the bloody cloth.

“Acantha, dear,” he said. “Why would you hide the fact that you’ve started your cycle from me?”

I spat in his face indignantly. “Because I don’t want to have your fucking children.”

“Now, now,” he said with a frown on his face. “That’s no way for a wife to treat her husband.”

That was the first night he beat me. It hurt even more than our first night together almost half a year ago.

“Stop whimpering,” he snarled as he hit me again. “You sound like a little girl.”

“I am a little girl,” I spat. “Or at least I was when you married me. You shouldn’t have even entertained the idea.”

“You were old enough,” he growled. “It’s not unheard of a girl to marry that young. You were fair game.” He threw me to the floor and stormed out of the room. “You will give me children, whether you like it or not, Acantha,” he said as he left.

~

The years passed, and just like his first two wives, I bore Leonidas no children, which didn’t make him happy. I expected that he was probably going behind my back to sleep with the servant girls in hopes that one of them would give him an heir. Though I never gained the courage, I often thought to tell him that if none of the women he had taken as wives or lovers had borne him children, then perhaps it was his seed that was defective rather than the wombs of the women in question.

Before I knew it, I was sixteen- the same age my mother had been when she wed my father. Many girls my age, ones I’d known from childhood, began to marry- the rest of them had done two years ago at 14.

One of my childhood friends, named Chrysanthe, sent me an invitation to her wedding. I asked Leonidas if I could go, and he begrudgingly agreed, though only if I brought him.

I was excited and nervous to see Chrysanthe, we hadn’t spoken in almost six years now. I was surprised she’d even gone to the trouble of inviting me to her wedding.

Leonidas and I walked into the feast hall and Chrysanthe ran to me. She and I looked like we could have been sisters- tall and gangly with olive-toned skin, bright green eyes, and curly gold hair.

“Acantha!” she said excitedly, hugging me so tightly I thought she might cut off my breath.

“Chrysanthe,” I said with a smile. “I’ve missed you.” She gripped my shoulders and looked over at Leonidas.

“Is this your husband, Acantha?”

“He is,” I said, though acknowledging my marriage to Leonidas still left a bitter taste in my mouth even after almost four years. “Leonidas.”

“How long have you been married?” she asked. “How did you meet?”

“He’s a colleague of my father’s,” I said, biting my lip. “We’ve been married nearly four years now.”

“You married at twelve?” Chrysanthe asked incredulously.

“You know as well as I, I didn’t have any choice,” I said. “My father wanted me to marry Leonidas, so marry him I did.” Leonidas ran a hand through my hair.

“She was somewhat defiant at first, but she’s learned to be an obedient wife,” he said. “There’s only one more thing I could want from her.”

“He wants sons,” I explained. “And I haven’t given him any yet.”

“No daughters either?” Chrysanthe asked. I shook my head.

“I haven’t given him any children.”

“But it’ll happen eventually,” Leonidas said, prodding my stomach. “We may have to visit someone about it, but we’ll have children eventually.”

~

After the ceremony and meal, Chrysanthe invited me back to the private chambers to help her get dressed down for her husband.

“No one did this for me after my wedding,” I noted, undoing a braid in her hair. Suddenly my heart was hammering and my cheeks were heating up. What was this feeling? I’d never felt it before.

Suddenly, Chrysanthe turned her chair to face me. “Acantha, can I tell you a secret?” I nodded.

“Of course.” Chrysanthe smiled and pressed her hand to her abdomen.

“I’m with child.” I stared at her in shock.

“Demetrius’?” I asked, naming my friend’s new husband.

She shook her head. “A scullery boy, back at my father’s halls. We fell in love a little over a year ago and had been seeing each other in secret, but it never went much further than kissing. About a month or two ago, I found out from my father that I would be marrying before the end of the season. When I told my scullery boy, he was distraught. Heartbroken that soon I’d never get to see him again, I let him make love to me. I thought that maybe I’d remember him better that way.” I nodded.

“Perhaps you can pass the child off as your husband’s anyway. Maybe he gets you pregnant tonight.”

“True,” Chrysanthe said. “After all, Demetrius and Andreas- that’s my scullery boy- don’t look that different. If I give birth eight or so months after our wedding, he’ll have no reason to suspect the child is a poor man’s bastard.”

I nodded and wiped the makeup from my friend’s face, taking away the color. “If the child’s a boy, perhaps Demetrius will even name him his heir. Leonidas will surely be jealous.”

“I’m sure he will,” Chrysanthe said. “All men want sons and heirs.” I frowned.

“When I first married Leonidas, I was terrified of pregnancy. Knew it was dangerous with how small I was. Truth be told, I’m still afraid. My mother was nearly thirty when she died in childbirth. It can kill you at any age.”

“Well then, I pray you never have to experience it,” Chrysanthe said sympathetically. “Does Leonidas have any brothers? Perhaps he can name a nephew as his heir.”

“Or perhaps he’ll have a child with a servant woman,” I said almost hopefully.

The door opened and Demetrius stood there. I swallowed.

“Well, I’ll leave you two and get back to my own husband,” I said and left.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.’”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is…" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking requests (feel no pressure to do this) 14 with Obi-wan and a knight Anakin because that sounds very much like him

A fluff prompt!! I’m so excited, thank you! 🤍

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept in three nights, and his Lineage was not happy about it.

Ahsoka and Anakin watched with narrowed eyes from a balcony as the Jedi Master mingled with the crowd, smiling softly at anyone who engaged his attention, keeping close to the side of Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chair Mas Amedda.

For a man who was running on very little sleep and hardly any sustenance, Obi-Wan was managing to maintain the image of the perfect Jedi — civil, humble, charming, wise. Power concealed just below the surface.

Every so often, Palpatine would draw the Jedi deeper into some conversation or other, or pat him on the shoulder in a strangely paternal fashion.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ahsoka hissed to her Master. “Master Kenobi hates strangers touching him!”

“The Chancellor isn’t a stranger,” Anakin said defensively. But he watched again as Palpatine settled a hand on his former Master’s arm and saw the slight tension creasing Obi-Wan’s forehead, and had to concede that Obi-Wan was feeling uncomfortable. “But yeah. I don’t think the Chancellor knows, he wouldn’t do it if he did. He’s probably just too used to working with me instead. We’re more like friends.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. “And would he have let you go home by now? We were supposed to be able to leave almost two hours ago.”

Anakin sighed. He leaned on the railing, absentmindedly picking at a carved design in the metal with his mech hand, creating a small clicking noise. He scanned the room again, searching for unlikely threats, and then returned his gaze to his Master and his friend, still penned in the center of a colorful crowd all waiting for attention. To see and be seen. Vultures.

Obi-Wan had more patience for this sort of thing, it was true, but it was apparent to those who knew him well — to Anakin — that he was run ragged. That every new face turning in his direction, awed and pettily delighted by meeting both the Supreme Chancellor and a High Jedi General, was another weight on his shoulders.

Anakin glanced over at his Padawan. Ahsoka’s eyes lit up as she saw the look in his eyes.

“How do you wanna do this?” she asked, tapping her fingers excitedly on the banister. “I know you like explosions, but if you set something off, Master Obi-Wan will definitely have to flee with the Chancellor to safety and then he’ll be gone for ages.”

“You’re right, Snips,” Anakin said, and a smirk pulled at his lips. He ruffled his hair proudly, ignoring Ahsoka’s eye roll, and said, “So I’ll take a leaf from Obi-Wan’s book. I’ll just go right down there and use my words.”

Anakin beamed.

Ahsoka looked as if she suddenly preferred an explosion.

-

“Yes, hi, hello, excuse me, coming through, yep, pardon me, just walking here,” Anakin threw scattered, inane apologies in every direction as he plowed a path right through the entire gala.

Ahsoka trailed in his wake, smiling awkwardly at the people who scattered with startled looks and scowling ferociously at those who dared look cross.

Obi-Wan spotted them first. He was deep in conversation with a representative from the Core, but his blue eyes flickered to them briefly and his smile became slightly taut; he raised one of his hands in what might have passed for a wave but was, to his Padawans, a clear signal to turn around.

Anakin disregarded this subtle warning immediately.

He strolled directly up to Obi-Wan, bowed slightly, and put a hand on the Master’s shoulder, smiling blindingly at the representative. “Good evening. I’m afraid it’s time for Master Kenobi to depart. The Jedi thank you for your time.”

The representative raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Palpatine, on the other hand, suddenly popped up right beside them, a wide smile on his grandfatherly face. “Anakin, Knight Skywalker, how good to see you! I thought you’d gone home hours ago, why, surely you need your rest after that last campaign.”

Anakin kept a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Ahsoka shifted to stand behind them, smiling a little too widely, the points of her teeth glinting, at anyone who looked at them askance.

“We had quite the victory,” Anakin agreed. He preened slightly. But — “And you’re right, Chancellor, we do need our rest. General Kenobi has served very well, and we’re all eager to rest and prepare for our next deployment.”

Palpatine’s smile widened still further. “Ah, yes. General Kenobi is an incredible public servant, he’s such a delight to have at events such as these.”

This time it was Anakin who tensed slightly. Ahsoka sidled up surreptitiously and linked her arm with Master Obi-Wan’s, flanking him between them, drawn up as tall as she could make herself.

Anakin looked intently at Palpatine, trying to communicate to his friend that now was not the time for politics. He’d thought this would be easy, but the Chancellor seemed determined to keep Kenobi with him all evening. The crowd had begun to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to be receiving any attention for awhile, but they milled about nearby, clearly listening in.

“I—” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin decided to risk his Master’s wrath and just cut him right off.

“And he and I are always happy to be invited by such gracious hosts!” he blurted out quickly. “But sadly, we will have to wait for another invitation before we get the chance to enjoy one another’s company. We really do have to be going.”

Palpatine studied him for a moment.

Go on, Anakin urged him silently. Please. Come on. You know we want to leave.

The silence dragged.

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said warmly, turning to Obi-Wan, and Anakin felt a wave of relief. “What do you say? Shall we… let you out of your duties for the sake of your valiant friends?”

Oh, what the fuck?

It had the ring of a joke but was worded like a trap. And Anakin could see, in slow-motion, the flicker of resignation and bitterness deep in Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, just behind the friendly smile, and knew what was about to happen if he didn’t do something about it.

Anakin let out a loud laugh and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder again. “Sorry, everyone. We’re on a time crunch, we have to get back in time for dessert.”

Ahsoka laughed, too, and clung a little tighter to Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan looked somewhere between confused and horror struck.

Palpatine’s smile froze.

Anakin chuckled and waved at the surrounding crowd, shrugging in a you-know-how-it-is sort of way. “Hey, he promised us milkshakes. General I may be, but I still demand my old Master fulfill his promises of unhealthy desserts.”

“Hey, I think out of everyone, I deserve milkshakes the most!” Ahsoka interjected, her tone teasing.

A few of the politicians shot her amused smiles. Ordinarily she would have bristled, but in this instance she just shot them knowing, conspiratorial looks, like a child deliberately making mischief. There was a ripple of laughter.

“I don’t know about that,” Anakin said. “I think I definitely took out the most droids.”

“Riiiight,” said Ashoka. “After I took out the battlement. By myself.”

They ribbed back and forth. The gala was eating it up, their faces amused and indulgent, intrigued by the display of youthful frivolity and friendship the Jedi were giving them. Obi-Wan was still pinned between them, rooted helplessly to the spot.

Anakin looked back at the Chancellor, expecting a smile.

Instead he got a blank expression — which quickly turned into a loud bark of laughter and a grandfatherly grin. He clapped his hands to gain the attention of the crowd and said, “Oh, I believe our brave Hero and his friends have earned themselves a night out for something as innocent and delightful as milkshakes, don’t you say?”

The crowd laughed and nodded; there was scattered applause, and it was done.

Anakin winked at the Chancellor and then turned on the spot, he and Ahsoka striding out the room with Obi-Wan trapped in the middle, waving and bowing at anyone who smiled in their direction.

The three of them escaped out of the ballroom, down the flight of stairs, and out onto the grand balcony overlooking the landing platform, where their ship was waiting in the semi-darkness of the Coruscant night.

Anakin and Ahsoka turned at the same time to look at Obi-Wan, each of them still holding on to one of the Master’s arms.

There was a long silence.

Obi-Wan stared tiredly down at the speeder for a very long time.

Anakin looked at his Padawan nervously.

But then Obi-Wan’s lips twitched beneath his beard, and then he chuckled, and then he burst into uproarious laughter. The sound was infectious; relieved and excited, the other two clung to him and laughed, all of them half-leaning on the railing, cackling like idiots.

They laughed until they ran out of breath, and then laughed a little more.

After a long while, Obi-Wan disentangled his arms from their controlling grips but immediately settled them back, one on Anakin’s shoulder and the other resting on Ahsoka’s back. “I think,” he said, “I promised you milkshakes. Dex’s?”

“Oh, I definitely remember you saying that!” Ahsoka said. “Dex’s is great.”

“Yeah, and you also definitely said you’d pay,” Anakin wheedled.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Awww. Worth a shot,” Anakin whispered to his Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I said I’d pay for Ahsoka’s. You, my Knighted former Padawan, can pay for your own dessert.”

Ahsoka cheered. Anakin groaned. They strolled off into the night, ambling without haste or urgency or fear, connected by light touches of the hands and arms, and by something deeper and unseen and familial.

There would be time for the war and politics later.

Right now, they were late for dessert.

fin

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.2

Part one

Summary: Too quickly does the Darkling find his rogue Sun Summoner, but his arrogance will cost him. 

Warnings: slight fluff, angst

==========================

Faith – Y/N’s floated away from her a very long time ago, like a leaf being pulled away on the tide, and into the sea to become lost and alone, likely drowned. But she had faith in Aleksander. She always trusted him, not doubting he’d protect her. That’s why this is much more painful than it had to be.

“Running doesn't matter, I'll hunt you down if I have to.” Kirigan spoke through gritted teeth, as if he knew she could hear him, feel the palpable anger and betrayal he struggled to contain.

And still she ran. She ran without looking back, cutting through the forest with her breath caught in her throat. She ran, flinching with branches leaving cuts across her face, but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, he’d find her and if he found her, Y/N didn’t know if they’d both walk away unharmed.

Finding a cave, she ventured inside. She sat curled up against a wall, shivering in the darkness. She clutched the kefta she wore in Little palace, clinging to his already faded scent. Just hours ago, his arms were wrapped around her, his lips claimed hers. She was his, undoubtedly in love with the very man who turned out to be the enemy.

A sob escapes her, whimpering as her hand covers her mouth to assure her silence. Risking being found because she needs to cry is stupid. Aleksander would expect her to cry.

“Where have you been?” The Grisha asks, breathless as it seems.

His presence alone commands awe, respect and his charisma can make any human stop and forget what they’re doing so long as it pleases him. He is magnetic, electric, someone you can get lost in before knowing what’s happening.

“Answer me.” He insists, lower his head to her level. His eyes narrow at her quivering lips, just then realizing she’s shaking.

“Leave us!” He orders the Grisha who came running once the light reached them outside the tent.

He taps her shoulder, the air around them turning static with contact, “What is happening?” Her shaky voice sounds and his eyes soften.

“You truly don’t know?” Raising an eyebrow, the Grisha steadies Y/N before letting her go. “My name is general Kirigan and you”, he points at her, his forehead wrinkling momentarily, “are the Sun summoner.”

A breathless chuckle escapes her, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m a map-maker.”

“No”, Kirigan raises an eyebrow. He steps closer, his hands gripping her arms gently, “You are a Grisha.”

Swallowing thickly, her eyes flood with tears. One by one, they make tracks down her cheeks, stunning Kirigan.

“You need not worry”, wiping the tears off her left cheek with his thumb, Kirigan smiles softly, “I will protect you.”

Huffing, Y/N shakes her head. “I never should have trusted him.”

Suddenly, she felt her airways constrict. Gasping for air, she clutches her chest, unable to breathe or think clearly. Darkness etched into her vision, blurring it until there was nothing left. She felt her mind drift, the last she heard was a whisper she once adored.

“I’ll carry her back.” Aleksander states, his eyes never moving from her. He didn’t expect to find her, especially not as quickly as he did, but the ring she wore lead them straight to her location. Once again, she trusted the wrong person and once again, it brought them closer together.

Upon his return, he had laid her on his bed, hoping to speak to her somewhat peacefully this time around. If she could just feel the way his heart aches for her, maybe then she’d believe him he’d never do anything to bring her harm.

Groggy, Y/N groans. Her hand moves to her forehead, rubbing her temples.

“You’re safe”, Aleksander tells her, but the sound of his voice made her open her eyes wide, sitting up so quickly her vision blurred.

“St-stay away!” She pushed herself back, hitting the headboard.

“I won’t hurt you. I saved your life." Kirigan leans in, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"How? By taking my freedom, mind and identity?" She snaps at him, her nostrils flared with frustration and anger bubbling up to the surface.

"The chains are broken now.” Kirigan sighs, “You know the truth.” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows knit together, “Are you really free?"

Shaking her head, she narrows her eyes at him, "You are still my captive, no matter how beloved you once were."

Giggling, Y/N stumbles back and into the table. A few figurines fall to the ground, but it doesn’t seem to phase Aleksander who smirks as he rests his hands at each side of the table, essentially trapping her.

Raising an eyebrow, she looks up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Are you about to ravish me, oh sweet Darkling?”

Chuckling, he cranes his neck just enough for the tip of his nose to brush hers. Hearing her inhale sharply and hold her breath, Aleksander couldn’t help but peck her lips. It felt innocent enough, something that wouldn’t scare her but would satisfy his need to feel her closer to him.

“Don’t go looking for trouble, sunshine”, his lips twitch, amused how her hands have clutched his hips, pulling him closer to her.

“Maybe I like trouble”, she whispers, breathing heavily so much so he could count each and every breath passing the lips he wished her could kiss for an eternity, uninterrupted.

Biting her lower lip, her hand rests on his left cheek, caressing the scruffy beard with her thumb. “Come on, Darkling”, she teases, “What are you afraid of?”

“You”, he responds without a second thought. His response came so quickly, catching Y/N off guard. “I’m afraid of loving you”, he exhales through his nose, his clenching under the palm of her hand before he speaks again, “Afraid of losing you.”

“Please”, crosses his lips and Y/N’s heart skips a beat. Aleksander is a man of many virtues, but begging wasn’t one of them. He’s the man who demands and makes things happen. Such men don’t strike you as someone who plead often. And this was Aleksander pleading, asking her to do something irrational, to trust him, the only thing she couldn’t do.

“What could you possibly say to make this okay?” She swallows thickly, averting her gaze as if looking at him for too long could destroy her very essence.

"They called me the Darkling as an insult. You were the only one who used it as a term of endearment." Aleksander reaches for her hand, but she pulls away once again. “Let me put your mind at peace.”

Pressing her lips, she exhales through her nose, “You made me into a weapon. I'll never find peace.”

“I didn’t make you into anything”, he remarks, “You were born as my equal, to be my other half.”

Nodding to herself, she swipes her thumb under her left eye, “I sure feel like your equal now”, glancing at him she bites the soft flesh on the inside of her bottom lip, “You can still do the right thing. I believe there is a good person inside of you. The man I fell in love with must be somewhere underneath the darkness you're flaunting. Be him.”

His eyes narrow, clouded by his own sorrow, “It's too late to go back. You can't even look at me.” Standing, with his back turned on her, Aleksander allows tears to fill his eyes, “Do you even love me?”

“Of course I still love you, but trusting you is a different question.” With a heavy sigh parting her lips, she stands too. “You can’t force me to stay with you and expect unconditional love. That’s not how this works.”

Blinking fast, Aleksander refused to look at her. All she’d see is his weakness – his feelings for her have made him soft, too easily swayed by emotions and he mustn’t reveal it.

“You can’t catch sunshine, my dearest Darkling”, she wraps her arms around his waist. Resting her right cheek on his back, between his shoulder blades, she pulled him into her embrace, “You need to let me go and find my own way.”

“You’d be dead by nightfall.” He snaps, trying to push her off but she holds onto him even tighter, silently weeping.

How can she stay when every cell inside her body is screaming for her to leave? How can she leave when every single molecule she’s made up from is aching for just one more touch?

“If you love me, you’ll have to trust me”, her voice is shaky, unsteady as she feels. “Staying will make me resent you. I need some distance, time.”

“I can’t”, he shakes his head, wiping his tears away before she can see any.

“Then I need you to remember”, her hold on him lessens.

With a frown etched on his forehead, he turns to her with a lump at the back of his throat, “Remember what?” His words rip through her like glass shards do to skin, but he can barely tell if she’s shaking because he’s started to tremble himself.

A smile breaks on her lips, just as bright as the light she once emitted to contrast his. “Remember I love you.”

And once again, without a warning, Aleksander found himself on his knees.

He didn’t love her, he desired her most of all. He desired her gaze on him as desperately as the air he needs to breath. He desired her skin against his as the food he’d need to live. He desired her lips to speak his name in ecstasy more than the water as he thirsted for her light more than anything else in this world.

And in his desire for her he had lost himself entirely. He had lost his cold exterior, becoming putty in her hands. He had lost his ruthlessness he planned to aim her way, directing it to any and all who’d harm her. He had lost his resolve to stay away, so he’d give into her with all he is.

So with that desire and the loss of him, he hated her for all of it. He hated her with burning passion. He hated her so much it consumed him.

Or so he told himself so. For in the end, he did nothing to push her away.

He couldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Logic demanded him to stop her, but his entire logic went out the window the day he found her in his tent, stealing his grapes. He’s no longer a part of the living anymore either. She’s become his cornerstone and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it didn’t change. It’s become factual.

He didn’t hate her, not even a little, not at all. Aleksander Morozova, Aleksander Kirigan, The Darkling, the unforgiving general, the Black Heretic, the Shadow King – all of him loved all of her, even as she had put a knife through his heart. The very heart that beat for her was now bleeding because of her. A betrayal, he realized, the very same as she had felt when she learned of his lies.

“We will see each other again”, she croaks, her tears crashing around him.

Gasping for air, he desperately fights the pain so he can keep his eyes open longer. This might not kill him, but it will slow him down. This time around, she’ll run and as she takes off the ring, he realizes it won’t be so easy to find her again.

She kisses his lips, so softly he’s unsure if it’s a well crafted dream.

“Moya lyubov'”, he manages to say as she stands and heads to the door. He can’t speak, but he’s screaming on the inside, hoping she’d look back at him. If she does, there was hope.

Reaching for the knob, Y/N sighs, glancing over her shoulder at her Darkling with unimaginable pain tearing her apart. But sometimes you have to break in order to create something more beautiful. She knew he’d hate her for it, but she walked out the door anyway.

PART 3

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Hiddleston - BAFTAs

A/N - It’s time for Tom Hiddleston head-canon time because I cannot keep my mind quiet. Please enjoy, I have no idea what this is. :) I do not know Tom Hiddleston, nor do I claim to. This was inspired by Tom at the BAFTAs.

Warnings - Panty-thieving, heavily implied smut, cursing, slight public embarrassment? 18+ rec.

Summary - Tom thieves your panties after you rile him up the night of the BAFTAs, and he doesn't anticipate the consequences of keeping underwear in his pocket on the red carpet.

Tom has a huge night. He’s at the BAFTAs, presenting, and you’re going on the carpet with him, partly to make up numbers but mostly because you’re his girlfriend and therefore he insists you be everywhere important with him. :’)

However, from the second you put on your chosen gown, things have gone severely downhill. And through no fault of your own. Well, debatable...

He growled like a feral animal the second he saw you at the bottom of the stairs, your dress hugging you in all the right places, and in his favourite colour, perfectly matching his monochrome suit. His grip on your arm became intense, even walking from your house to the car.

He looked fucking incredible in his suit with his hair long and his beard that tickles you all the right ways, and it makes him look so tall. You weren't sure how you'd be able to keep your hands off him, and you don't. You didn't even plan on restraint.

When you got in the car, that’s when things started to get worse. He wouldn’t tear his eyes off you, his hand gripping your leg brutally, his blunt nails digging into the satin and gossamer of your dress.

“What’s wrong Tommy?” you asked coyly.

“You know what.” He snarled.

“Then do something about it.”

Definitely the wrong thing to say. You’ve never heard him emit such a sound, one of such anger and barely tethered restraint.

“I have a suit to consider, my darling. It’s very expensive.”

“I dare you.” You whispered. Only because he’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.

You moved your hand to his leg next, dancing your fingers along the inner seam of his trousers. His entire body shifted, his legs clenching, his lips pursing into a thin line. Then come the featherlight kisses to his neck, nothing more than a sign of affection. But when you brushed his sweet spot, it was over.

“Stop fucking riling me up, would you?” he practically shouted. Even his driver discreetly coughed. Tom never swears.

“Tom I’m doing nothing.” you answered steadfastly. “This is what I always do.” And it was true. This is what you do every time he has an event, gently caressing his legs and kissing his neck and throat every so gently. But this time, apparently, it got to him.

“Yes but this time it’s different, ok?”

“How?”

“Because I want to take you over my fucking knee and spank you for looking so sexy, but at the same time I just want to ravish you the way I couldn’t at home because of these damn awards.”

You just looked up at him, blinking with doe eyes, thinking up your next move, your next words, but your fingers grazed him in just the right place without even meaning to, and you leaned in to peck him on the lips. You were done for the second you kissed.

“Fuck this,” he purred, slamming his mouth hotly onto yours, pushing you back onto the seat, yanking your panties off from beneath your gown, his hands instantly exploring you.

Your driver did two extra blocks so you could get yourselves sorted to actually step out and enter the event looking halfway respectable and as though you hadn’t just been fucking in the back seat.

That’s how you got here. On the carpet with your panties in his pocket, little more than a soaked, shredded scrap of silk in amongst his handkerchief and mints and phone.

You swan around on the carpet, posing with a coy smile on for all the photos, kissing Tom's cheek innocently from time to time. You keep quiet, simply his girlfriend, but you can feel his eyes on you even while he's taking photos.

You stop for a few interviews as well, only speaking when spoken to in order to profess your love for Tom and how talented he is, how honoured you are to have been invited, how wonderful it is that he's presenting a segment tonight.

Until you reach the last interview on the carpet, and in the cold, Tom turns away to blow his nose so he doesn't sound weird.

"What you got in there?" The interviewer asks, noticing that it's hard for him to get his hankie back into his pocket for some reason.

Sadly, in the moment, the one thing he direly needs to remember slips his mind, and he paints a smile onto his face, and begins to pick items out one by one.

Breath mints, throat lozenges, a tissue, air pods, a mask, a mini wallet, house keys, a pen, and...

"Oh my God." you mutter under your breath when he withdraws the last item.

You bury your head into the shoulder of his blazer, your eyes scrunched shut, but you feel the bright crimson blush burning his skin and clawing up his cheeks. You've never cringed so hard.

"Well, um, yes, so... Thank you very much, and we— yeah, we'll be off. Enjoy!" His voice is so strained on his hasty words and his clutch on you is so tight it starts to hurt as he steers you far away, and pelts it down the rest of the way, off the carpet and inside.

You're pinned against the wall the second you're out of sight, your panties balled up in his hand as he raises them to his face momentarily.

You're gushing and whimpering with his hold on your dress, and you're so exposed with just your dress on, but can't even care.

"Tom," you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. He greedily kisses you back, and is bundling your skirt up a second later.

“Think it’s funny do you? I’ll show you just how funny it is.” he growls into your ear, and you're absolutely finished.

It's safe to say you're just a smidge late for the main event...

[elenamiria]

The Jedi

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.8k Summary:  (Direct sequel to this maul x reader fic) After the events of the day you have to reconcile what happened with your master. Obi-Wan for a change expresses himself through actions instead of words  Warnings: Master and Padawan relationship (Padawan is of age and I never write with the thought that the master has known them for a long time or since they were not of age), mentions of bruises and bite marks, Fem reader, oral (fem recieving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, inappropriate use of the force Masterlist -- Tags (send an ask or message me if you’d like to be added):  @fishswimbetterunderwater  @a-dorin @blxwjobsforclones @lynnie51 @katrynec  @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie @crazycatladyjenga​ @stonegoldsecret-v2​  @blackirisposts​

You paced around the room aimlessly as you waited for your master to show up, nothing to distract you from your thoughts. You tried to squash down the fear inside you for what lay ahead not wanting to add to your already long list of un-Jedi like behavior from that day. When the sudden noise of a second set of footsteps joined yours you froze. The sounds grew to a thunderous level in your head before silence fell through the room, your back was to the entrance and a pit formed in your gut as you slowly turned around. Obi-Wan stood there in his usual attire, looking as composed as ever and yet as his cerulean eyes took in your form you felt yourself tremble under his gaze. You were the first to break the silence with a quiet, "I'm sorry," not knowing what else to say.

Obi-Wan shifted and took an audible inhale, the breath catching in his chest before he could say anything. His exhale was equally as loud as he shook his head, looking away briefly, your heart was in your stomach as you felt tears gather in your eyes. When his gaze turned back to you he noticeably softened as he called out to you, "Oh no, none of that. Come here darling."

His arms opened and in seconds you were across the room slamming into him and pulling him close to you. Obi-Wan returned your tight embrace one hand coming to grasp the back of your head firmly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his other arm firmly wrapped around your waist. You weren't even aware that you were crying until you gasped for air and Obi pulled away enough that he could cup your face softly. His thumb brushed away your tears as his eyes roamed your face, "It's alright, I'm here, it's ok."

You bit your lip as you took deep breaths mimicking his breathing in an attempt to calm yourself. Once you had stopped your tears Obi-Wan offered you a toothy smile and your eyes darted to his mouth before locking eyes with him.

"You aren't angry with me?" You questioned hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Obi's countenance darkened for just a second, you would have missed it if you did not know him so well, before switching back to a more neutral look - though he couldn't hide the relief in his eyes.

"No little one, I'm not angry with you. I am relieved that Maul didn't hurt or kill you...I don't know what I would have done." Obi-Wan's admission came a surprise to you, though it was obvious the both of you cared about each other a great deal it wasn't a fact the two of you often discussed. Especially when your feelings for him ran far deeper than a simple master and padawan bond should. You offered Obi-Wan a small smile as he continued, "We can deal with what happened here later, for now let's get you back to the ship."

His words gave you pause as you remembered the whole reason for being on-planet in the first place, for a moment you panicked as you gasped out, "The troopers!"

Obi once again soothed you, his hand slipping down your spine to rub gently at your back, "They're fine, they contacted me when you didn't make contact with them and they all have been picked up and are back on the capital ship. I had come down myself with a few men to look for you when you..."

Trailing off Obi-Wan abruptly pulled away from you, his face red, as he cleared his throat and straightened up, nodding towards the door, "Like I said we can discuss that later. Why don't we go back to the ship for now."

The speeder ride back to the troopers was silent and awkward, as was the ride back to the main ship. Obi was quick to escort you back to your quarters and away from prying ears, something which you were immensely grateful for. When you entered your room there was another spot of silence until both of you were speaking at once, “I don’t know how it happened and I-”

“You moaned my name. Twice.” Obi-Wan’s words intercut with yours and you froze as your brain processed what he was saying. Eyes wide you sputtered for a moment until you managed to spit out a lame, “Yes.”

You could see Obi-Wan’s cheeks reddening through his well groomed beard and you felt your own face heating as well. Looking down at the ground you mumbled, “I did. I- when I heard your voice all I could think about was you and I....”

Trailing off you really hoped he understood what you were going for and didn’t ask you to elaborate. A surprised little ‘oh’ left Obi-Wan’s mouth before he cleared his throat and questioned, “Have you thought about...you and I before those moments?”

You were sure his question was innocent, there was no way Obi-Wan felt the same way you did. He had never shown any outward interest - always the picture perfect Master, however you felt shame rising in you at the sheer amount of times you had thought about Obi in that light. You nodded and heard Obi-Wan take a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, it was then that it all became too much. You didn’t want to hear his rejection of you and you didn’t want to hear another lecture about the ways of the order, and you especially didn’t want to have to talk about having fucked your Master’s worst enemy. Instead you glanced at Obi-Wan muttering, ‘I need a shower,’ and fleeing to the bathroom.

The mirror was finally defogging from your extremely long and probably too hot, but much needed, shower. You stared at your appearance in the mirror, fingers brushing over the faint bruises blossoming on your hips, only just noticeable, before you tugged your underwear up. The room was hot from your near scalding shower but you pulled a spare undershirt over your body anyway. Your fingers lingered on your neck, 3 large marks decorating the skin there and you sighed lightly. The shirt did little to conceal the marks and so you tugged on the robe you had thrown on the floor earlier, pulling it tight around your body. A knock on the door startled you from your thoughts and you responded with a short “Come in.”

Attempting to find something to busy yourself with you found yourself picking at imaginary dirt from under your fingernails. Obi-Wan’s call of your name had your eyes darting to meet his in the mirror. Your breath hitched at his face etched with worry.

“Are you sure your alright little one? I-I know you said you were alright but it would make me feel better if I could check you for injuries myself.”

Your eyes hardened for just a second, fully prepared to say no, but the pure desperation you found in his eyes had you giving in. Giving him a short nod you whispered, “go ahead,” so quietly Obi-Wan nearly missed it. Looking down at the floor you slowly turned to face him, his hands landed on your arms trailing down to lace fingers with you. A soft squeeze had you finally glancing up to meet Obi’s eyes. Though just moments ago looking him in the eye had seemed terrifying now that your gaze locked with his it was the only thing convincing you that everything was going to be alright. 

You were the one who unclasped your robe, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to fall to the ground again. Obi-Wan’s breathing stuttered as he caught a glimpse of your neck, his fingers immediately hovering over the marks almost touching them. His hands dropped quickly as he seemingly realized they were made by Maul’s mouth and a displeased look covered his face. Obi’s eyes trailed down your body and his hands settled on the hem of your shirt. When you gave him a slight nod his palms began sliding up your shirt baring your upper thighs to him, once the shirt made it over your hips he paused. Blue eyes picked up on the faint marks on your hips and his fingers brushed over your left side causing a small hiccup in your breathing as your face heated at his tender touch. Obi-Wan’s eyes darted to your face and he whispered out, “Does that hurt little one?”

You nodded and Obi-Wan started to bend down as if he was going to examine it further until you spoke, “It’s not necessarily the bad kind of hurt though. It’s uh, more just sore.”

You offered, not wanting him to trouble himself over something so insignificant. However Obi-Wan continued his path downwards and as he settled on his knees in front of you a teasing glint entered his eyes as he questioned, “So, you don’t want me to kiss it better?”

Your jaw dropped at his brazen words, face burning hot as a squeak escaped you. Swallowing deeply you glanced down at your master while he stared expectantly up at you, waiting for a response. You nodded again though all that earned you was a slight head tilt and you pouted lightly realizing that you would actually have to admit what you wanted. Taking a deep breath your hand reached over to cup his cheek, fingers brushing through his scruff lightly as you breathily requested, “Kiss it better, please Obi-Wan.”

Your words came out a bit more sensually than you had planned but with the way Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened you couldn’t find it in you to care. Obi’s eyes trailed back down to his target, a spot just above where your panties ended, and suddenly he was pressing forward and placing a hot open mouthed kiss the the bruised area. A gasp flew from you as Obi-Wan suckled lightly at the affected area, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. His tongue lapped gently in between sucking and experimentally he nipped at the area causing a startled yelp to fill the room. As Obi-Wan made his way down the area, beard scratching at your stomach and leaving your hips to buck unconsciously, his hands slid to your ass - groping firmly. His mouth made its way to hover just over your clothed and absolutely soaked pussy. Taking a moment Obi-Wan looked up at you once again as he cooed out, “And what about here, darling? Are you sore here too?”

Truth be told you were sore from the thorough fucking that you had received from the former sith lord but there was a part of you that was aching for this so strongly that you couldn't hold back any longer. Gliding your hands to your panties you grasped the edges and pulled them off, muttering sweetly, “I bet you could make my cunt feel so much better Obi-Wan, it’s aching for you.”

Obi audibly choked at your words, his hands settling on your thigh as he guided your legs open and exposed your slick swollen lips to him. A low groan slid from his throat as he took in just how soaked you were for him and you caught the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Moments later it was you who was letting out a groan as Obi-Wan flattened his tongue and licked a broad stroke up your lips, catching on your clit and causing your legs to tremble. Repeating the motion Obi took in your taste, your freshly bathed scent, everything about you that he could take in he did - desperate for every part of you. As he repeated the long lick a third time his hands squeezed your thighs gently and before you knew it Obi-Wan was diving in, lapping and sucking at your clit like a man starved. You cried out, partially in surprise partially in pleasure, and your hand buried in his hair as bliss shot through your body. 

Your hips canted towards him unconsciously, enraptured with the pleasure you were receiving and delighting in the way his scruff rubbed against you. The way you continually ground against his face along with the perfect little whimpers and whines you were causing Obi-Wan to harden, cock swelling with need, desperate for you. As he continued his ministrations one of his hands left your thigh to grasp at his aching length over his pants, needing some form of contact. When his hand left you, curiously you had looked down and you could immediately tell what was going on. 

Your breath hitched and though Obi had worked you up so close to reaching your peak you decided there was another place you’d rather cum. Reaching down you tugged lightly on his hair urging him away from your dripping lips with a cry of his name to draw his attention to you. His dazed expression almost tipped you right over the edge - his beard and lips glistening with your juices, the way his tongue darted out to clean his lips, and the way he stared up at you like you held all the stars in the galaxy. A breathless smile covered your face as you guided Obi to stand again and crashing your lips together once again. His arms were wrapped around you in and instant, pulling you close as if he were worried you would disappear. You could taste your tang on his lips and on his tongue when you parted your lips for him, the taste combined with his causing you to whimper into his mouth. When you finally broke apart with a soft moan you trailed your hand down to stroke his cock as you pleaded, “Please fuck me, Obi.”

A deep pleased rumble left Obi-Wan’s chest and he captured your hand to tug you out of the bathroom to the small bed within your quarters. Sitting down on the bed he tugged you onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs and your cunt just barely brushing his bulge. Obi kissed you soft and sweet this time while your hands made quick work of undoing his breeches to tug his thick length out. As you hands brushed against his cock Obi-Wan let out a strangle sort of groan as his head jerked back, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. His reaction had your lips parting before curving into a soft smirk and you ran your fingers up and down the length of his rigid dick, eyes watching his reactions intently wanting to commit each one to memory. After a particularly needy gasp of your name you took mercy on your master and lined his tip up with your entrance, your hips brushed back and forth slightly, coating his tip in your juices before you sank down onto him. The first few inches took your breath away and you could tell Obi-Wan was feeling it too as his hands landed firmly on your hips. You let out a small hiss as his hands squeezed over the bruised areas and quickly he relocated his hands to your waist with an apology. Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gave them a squeeze as you whispered out, “It’s alright Obi-Wan.”

Taking a few deep breaths you raised yourself up slightly before sinking back down onto the hard cock below you, taking a little more of him into you each time you repeated the motion. When you felt like you could take him all you allowed yourself to sit hard on his length and he bottomed out deep within you. Your walls fluttered hard around him as you nuzzled into his neck, smothering the moans that flew from your mouth. Obi’s hands tightened as he breathed out your name and swearing seconds later when you clamped down on him. As you adjusted to the feeling you slowly started to grind your hips against his, whimpering while his cock brushed up against your most sensitive spots. Gasps filled the air as both of you took in the pleasure and you leaned back in order to start bouncing on Obi-Wan’s length. 

Your Master guided you, using his hands to help you keep your rhythm, and this time he was burying his face in your neck. He left light kisses and gentle nips over the areas where Maul’s teeth had bruised, soft and gentle where Maul was rough. Obi-Wan didn’t seek to mark you as his only to soothe and comfort, he hoped to let you know that it was alright and that he still loved you despite what had happened. His softness had your walls clenching at every brush of his beard and every time his lips touched your neck, it was all so overwhelming you found you were barely able to keep your pace. Obi-Wan must have sensed your struggle as he lifted you off of him, despite your protests, in order to lay you down on the bed below him. Settling in front of you he lined back up with your entrance while your legs wrapped around his hips - urging him forward. A light laugh filled the air as Obi-Wan smiled down at you and teasingly chided, “Patience, little one.”

You couldn’t help the pout that covered your lips until Obi-Wan leaned forward to kiss it away. You giggled softly against his lips, unable to stay annoyed with him especially when he was kissing your thoughts away. His hand that wasn’t holding his weight found the edge of your shirt and slid under it, forging a path up your stomach and sternum before settling on your breasts. Gasping as Obi-Wan’s lithe fingers tweaked at your nipple he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while you arched your back below him. In the midst of this Obi’s hips finally relented and his cock prodded at your entrance before you reached down to angle him properly so as he shifted forward his cock pushed into your depths. 

Your cunt clenched around his tip desperate for more and Obi-Wan was happy to oblige, pressing forwards as he he broke apart from your lips to sit up straight. His hips thrust forward the rest of the way until his hips were flush with yours and you were both sighing in pleasure. You whimpered under him and bucked your hips with a soft cry of his name, Obi-Wan smiled down at you as his hips dragged backwards. The slow pull of his cock against your sensitive entrance had you whining below him as your hips chased after his only to loudly cry out when his hips snapped forward again. He repeated these slow drags and quick thrusts for several long minutes until you were writhing beneath him, babbling and pleading for more. Obi-Wan teased until a cry of, “Master, Please!”, left your lips and he finally caved. 

Your words had him growling out your name as his hips sped up to a steady rhythm, the sounds of him dicking you down filling the air. His grip on your waist tightened slightly as his cock pounded away and you were shocked by the fast pace he had set. You had expected Obi-Wan to want to take things slow but after all the buildup it seemed he was as desperate for you as you were for him. His grip on your waist had pulled your shirt tight against your body showing off the way your tits bounced on every thrust into your slick cunt. Obi’s eyes were trained on them and his hips sped up as he adjusted his grip, one hand fisting your shirt to keep it tight while his other grabbed one of your tits. Squeezing softly he ran his thumb over your peak, quickly finding your nipple and rolling it between two fingers, causing it to stiffen and for a squeak to fly from your lips. Your hand shot down to your clit as a deep thrust hit something that had you seeing stars and your orgasm fast approached while Obi toyed with your nipples. Panting your fingers rubbed tight circles on your clit until both your arms were wrenched over your head and pinned there by unseen hands. Obi-Wan’s use of the force had your walls tightening around him as he growled out, “Let me take care of you little one.”

His hand which had been wrapped in your shirt slid down your tummy to find your clit, mimicking you movements and rubbing in tight circles that had you crying out for more. Your hips bucked in time with his thrusts as his cock slammed into you over and over. You were so close to tipping over the edge and your eyes met Obi-Wan's as you simpered out, “Obi, please I’m so close. I need you Obi.”

Shifting his weight his pace slowed as his arm slid under your body to grasp at the back of your neck and he leaned down, his chest pressing into yours as his lips captured yours. His adjusted position allowed him to press deeper into your tight cunt, once again brushing up against your g-spot and hitting it consistently on each thrust. He swallowed down your cries as you tipped over the edge, pussy spasming and clenching around his length, his fingers working you through the orgasm. Your chest expanded as you wiggled below him, pressing the two of you together impossibly close, and you whined into his mouth as his fingers continued toying with your clit, prolonging your pleasure. Muttering a protest against his lips at the overstimulation you were silenced by him pulling back just enough to whisper, “It’s alright darling, I have you. You can give me one more, I know you can do it my good girl.”

His words sent a heavy aftershock through your body and your walls fluttered much to Obi-Wan’s delight as he let out a light moan. His slow, sensual pace continued and your cunt squeezed constantly around his length as the stimulation on your little bundle of nerves got to be too much. Your hands clenched, fingers digging into your palm, as you attempted to smother your noises as they grew in both frequency and volume the closer you got to your second orgasm. As Obi slammed into you particularly hard you couldn’t hold back the blissed out noise that slipped between your lips as your eyes unfocused for a brief moment. Obi-Wan repeated the motion causing the same reaction as you lost yourself in the pleasure, Obi grunting as you clamped down on him.

“You like that little one? Want me to fuck you like that until you cum for me darling?” He questioned, continuing the same motion and increasing his speed without waiting for a response. Though it was just as well since you were fairly incapable of responding to him as your eyes glazed over and you cried his name out as you were swept up in your second release. As if determined to blind you with pleasure Obi’s fingers sped up against your clit, rubbing furiously and causing your whole body to tighten - spiraling higher and higher until it was all too much and your body went limp. You felt a rush of liquid as you gushed around his thick cock and the obscene squelching noise that filled the air as your Master fucked you through your orgasm caused an embarrassed moan to escape you. The slick tickled at your clit and soaked his fingers, which he finally removed from your aching nub, and you whimpered when you felt it slide down your asshole to land on the bed. At the feeling your weak cunt clenched and Obi thrust a few more times, until he stilled deep within you as he reached his own peak. His cum shot out in ribbons, painting your walls and filling you up more than you thought possible. As he came inside you up his grip on your hands through the force faltered and your arms were free, instantly clinging to his shoulders as soon as you realized you could move, tugging him to you for a soft kiss. 

The two of you lay together for a long moment, him nuzzling into your neck and you laying there thoroughly exhausted as you stroked his hair gently, arms still wrapped around his shoulder. Obi-Wan was the first to move with a regretful groan as he separated from your heat, you flinched as he withdrew and for the second time in 24 standard hours you felt cum sliding from your sated pussy. A whimper left you but you were far to exhausted to do anything about it, not even noticing that Obi-Wan had disappeared to grab a warm damp cloth along with a meal bar and water. Having removed his outer layers he came back with just his undershirt and underwear on as he knelt by the edge of the bed. Tenderly he moved your legs so he could clean up the mess of your combined cum in slow gentle strokes. When he was finished he helped you sit up in order to eat and drink, sliding back onto the bed behind you and his arms winding around you waist. You eased back into him with a contented sigh and he accepted your glass and trash, laying them on the floor, when you were finished. The two of you maneuvered until you were comfortable, Obi-Wan laying on his back with an arm tugging you close while you used his chest as a pillow and pressed yourself to his side. After all the recent events your brain was running a mile a minute and yet you could barely keep your eyes open. Drowsily you went to ask Obi-Wan a question but all you got out was his name before your eyes fluttered shut. That last thing you heard before drifting off was, “Just rest now sweet little one, I’ll be here when you wake.”

It was dark. Pitch black, and yet someone else was there - you could sense them. Cautiously spinning around you attempted to peer through the darkness to no avail. Your hand reached unconsciously for your lightsaber only to find it missing and you tensed. Finally something broke the silence, a recognizable deep angry low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been very bad my little Jedi. Such a little slut you let your Master fuck you not even a day after I did. Do you really have such a greedy cunt?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and you spun trying to locate him. You could feel your annoyance at the Sith build as he refused to show himself until you froze as his golden eyes glowed at you in the darkness. You had to bite back a whimper as he stalked towards you, a mix of arousal and anger filling you. His voice echoed towards you, reverberating off of nothing in a way that had you quivering, “Don’t worry my little whore, the next time I see you...I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

In a sudden flurry of movement he was inches from you, his hand pulling your head back harshly as his teeth bared in a fierce scowl, “I’ll have to remind you that you belong to me.”

A yelp flew from your lips at the unexpected closeness and suddenly you were shooting forward, sitting up quickly. Blinking blearily you tried to regain your bearings as you looked around for Maul frantically. It wasn't until a sleep filled call of your name met your ears that you convinced yourself it was just a dream. Obi-Wan’s hand met your spine as he called to you again and you turned to meet his furrowed brow and concerned blue eyes. Smiling you nodded with a whisper of, “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”, before you allowed him to pull you back down to him. Nuzzling into his chest you allowed yourself to relax as you repeated softly, “It was just a dream. Just a dream.”

Maul’s piercing yellow gaze bore into the ceiling above his bed. A smirk tugged at his lips, he had never planned on fucking you again - figuring he would use you against Kenobi the next time he found you, and then disposing of you. But now? Now that he knew your Master had feelings for you it was going to be so much more delicious to ruin you for him. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch as recalled all the depraved things you and he had done last time before thinking of all the things he was going to do to you the next time he found you. Maul’s eyes slid shut as his hand wrapped around his aching length, for now he’d just have to be content with his own imagination.

[no-pucks-given]

JACOB MARKSTROM | COVER ME IN SUNSHINE

A/N: I wrote a rough part 1 and part 2 back in January (when I first started writing) and February, barely above 1K and 2K. However I loved that imagine, but it just wasn’t good enough to post here on Tumblr (in my opinion). So time for a rewrite, and I’m so glad I did. 3.5K more words, more ‘plot’, more smut, more love, more Marky. I love it. I’m happy to share this with all of you. 

Warnings: Oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, shower sex, (some marking + cum, you know the drill, nothing shocking though), a few swearwords, sweet and soft Marky and a water bill so high I could treat you all to dinner.

Word Count: 6.5K

Requested: Yes.

 The gentle beams of sunlight shining into the room isn’t what wakes you up this morning. It’s the prickling of Jacob’s beard between your legs, his rough hands sliding over your bare legs, his mouth leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs. That’s what wakes you up.

For a moment you’re completely confused, the sleepy haze still heavily present in your mind. You try to move your legs, gasping when Jacob’s mouth makes contact with your core. “Jacob,” you whimper, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jacob mumbles from underneath the covers, the vibrations of his voice sending chills throughout your entire body. You grab the covers with both hands, throwing them to the end of the bed as far as you can, revealing a smirking Jacob between your legs. A naked, smirking Jacob to be precise. “Did I wake you up?” Jacob asks you innocently, his fingers brushing over your exposed skin.

“Mmhmm, you sure did,” you say, softly smiling at the man between your legs. What a fantastic way to wake up.

“I can always stop and let you go back to sleep?” Jacob whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as he dips his head down. His tongue makes contact with your core again, your hips almost bucking of the bed by the sudden contact.

“Don’t you dare, J,” you moan out, your hand finding its way into Jacob’s hair, gripping the strands tightly between your fingers. “Please, don’t stop,” you beg him, knowing the effect it will have on him. You hear his sharp intake of breath, his eyes shooting to yours. Gotcha.

“I see what you did there, baby,” Jacob groans against your core, slowly dragging his tongue through your slit. You give him an innocent smile, which turns into a quiet moan when Jacob tightens his grip on your thighs, bringing you even closer to his wicked mouth.

Jacob softly sucks your clit into his mouth, his large hands keeping you flat against the mattress. God, Jacob loves to take his time, loves to take it slow, and all you can do is squirm underneath him, hoping, begging he’ll give you more than this. His tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, excruciating slowly, but so, so good. “Please, J,” you beg, needing more, needing to feel more than this. Jacob looks at you expectantly, you feel his smirk against your core, waiting for what’s yet to come, it always comes.

“Please, Jacob. I need more. Please, can I have more?” you beg him, your eyes pleading to him to fill you, to finally give you what you need. You have absolutely no problem begging Jacob for anything, no shame at all.

“Always so politely huh, sunshine,” Jacob mutters, letting one of your legs fall to the side. He shuffles a bit, moving his large body so he can bring his hand between your legs as well. His hand joins his mouth, his long finger spreading your wetness through your slit, before pushing inside of you. You gasp at the sudden, yet welcome intrusion, clamping down on Jacob’s finger. “Is that what you wanted, baby?” Jacob ask you, moving his finger inside of you, curling it just the right way to make you slowly lose your mind.

“Yes, yes!” you tell him, not sure if it’s an actual answer to his question or an exclamation of relief and contentment.

Jacob makes a sound of approval, pushing a second digit inside of you. Your whimpers and soft moans spurring him on, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Your grip on his hair tightens even more, bringing him impossibly closer to where you need him the most. With only one arm around your thigh you have way more room to move your hips, grinding them against Jacob’s face. You can almost feel his smirk, his fingers digging into your skin. “Take it, baby. That’s it,” he praises you, encouraging you even further to make yourself feel good. This. This is all about you.

The moment your breathing starts to hitch, the moment you get even wetter Jacob knows you’re close. All it takes is a little push, a last nibble on your clit, a last hit with his fingers against that one particular spot and you’re a goner. It’s Jacob’s soft voice telling you to come for him that brings you over the edge, your orgasm thundering through your body. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision turning blurry, back arching off the mattress. Your legs tighten around Jacob’s head, keeping him firmly in place, while he does his ultimate best to prolong your orgasm.

Jacob loves to tease you, loves to watch you squirm underneath him, but he’ll always, always let you come. It’s his favourite thing in this whole world to watch you come, that blissful look on your face, those quiet moans and whimpers leaving your pretty mouth. There’s nothing he loves more, except you. Watching you shatter in front of him, all because of him, is the biggest ego booster anyone can get, watching the person you love orgasm thanks to you, because of you.

When you finally feel like you can breath again you relax your body, with shakily legs you open them up again, freeing Jacob from being smothered. You give him a weak smile, still trying to recover from the intense orgasm you just had. Jacob crawls back up your body, wiping your juices off his face with the back of his hand. He places his arm next to your head, putting most of his weight on his arm instead of your much smaller frame.

You reach around him, putting your hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to your own. Jacob smiles, dipping down to take your lips with his. His tongue glides over yours, tasting yourself on his tongue makes this an even more intimate experience. It’s a pure and raw feeling, you can’t even begin to describe it. You break the kiss, smiling back at the man on top of you. “Good morning, sunshine,” Jacob smiles back at you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“Good morning indeed, baby,” you tell him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. You lay there for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, enjoying the quiet Sunday morning. Jacob rolls over, taking you with him so you’re laying on top of his chest, a small squeal leaving your lips with the sudden movement. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his other hand finds its way into your hair, playing with the strands. You revel in the feeling of his strong arms around you, feeling so safe and secure.

You know, oh you know there’s no way you’re done, there’s no way you’ll both leave this bed and go on with your day, absolutely no way. Jacob has the exact same idea as his hand slowly moves down to the globes of your ass. Seemingly content with finishing this in bed he grabs one of your cheeks with his large, calloused hand, giving it a firm squeeze. His other hand tugs slightly on your hair, tilting your head so he can capture your lips with his again.

You absolutely want to finish what he started, you want nothing more than that, but you do have other plans than Jacob. Plans that involve him, a hot shower and you on your knees in front of him. You break the kiss, wiggling out of Jacob’s arms, who gives you a confused and almost disappointed look, a slight pout visible on his handsome face. You almost feel sorry for him, almost. “Baby?” Jacob whispers, reaching his arms out to you, eyebrows furrowed, an emotion on his face you can’t place.

“Don’t, J,” you shake your head at him, a small smile playing on your lips, surely confusing him even more. Poor guy, now you do start to feel sorry for him. You lean forward, brushing your lips over his ear. “Why don’t you head into the shower, love? I think we have some unfinished business, don’t you think?” you whisper into his ear, enjoying the way his breathing hitches.

You lean back, looking triumphantly at the astonished Jacob in front of you. He opens and closes his mouth, you’re pretty sure you can hear the wheels turning inside of his head. You want to laugh at him, at the way he looks when the realization of your words settle in. His eyes shoot from you to the shower and back to you, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store.

You shoot him a quick wink, a small smile playing on your lips at his expression. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen a 6’6 man jump out of bed that fast, almost tripping over the sheets. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to contain your laughter at the sight before you. Jacob untangles his leg as fast as he possibly can, running straight towards the shower.

Barely 5 seconds later you hear the sound of the shower, the water falling on the tiles. You let out the laugh you’d been holding in and climb off the bed yourself, making your way over to the shower to give your boyfriend your own version of ‘good morning’.

You softly close the door behind you, turning your gaze onto the man standing underneath the stream of water. Your eyes rake over his naked body, focusing on the water droplets that fall onto his skin, following the sharp edges of his body until they fall down onto the tiles. It’s hypnotizing, the way he moves underneath the stream, the way his tattooed arms flex when he brushes his hands through his hair. You could watch him like this forever, never getting bored at the sight before you. What a sight.

Jacob catches you staring, gawking at him and his body. “Come here, babe,” he says, smirking at your obvious desire for him. You shake your head, trying to clear it of the lust induced haze – without much luck – before walking into Jacob’s awaiting arms. He pulls you close to him, his arms tightening around your body. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing both of your cheeks with his large hands. You gasp by the sudden pinch, giving Jacob the perfect opportunity to claim your lips with his.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up for him. A request you happily fulfil, granting him access to your mouth. His tongue collapses with your own, twisting and turning around the other, exploring familiar grounds. Hands wander over wet skin, gasps and moans swallowed by the sound of the never ending stream of water. At some point during your passionate make out Jacob’s hand finds its way into your hair, entangling his fingers with the strands.

Jacob tightens his grip on your hair, giving a slight tug to break off the heated kiss. You keep your eyes on him, the twinkling in his eyes promising nothing but trouble and mischief. “Are you gonna get on your knees for me, beautiful?” he whispers against your lips, giving you that signature smile, that smile that could make you do absolutely anything. You nod your head at him, your fingers trailing over his abdomen. You did promise him a ‘good morning’, right?

Jacob guides you to the ground, his hand firmly on your jaw the entire time. Your hands follow his body, sliding over every part except the part where he aches for you. You lightly dig your nails into his thighs as you settle down on the cold stone tiles. You fight to keep the smirk of your face as Jacob groans, his cock twitching right in front of you. Jacob brushes his thumb over your cheek, before moving it to your bottom lip. You look up at him, the desire and lust clearly swirling in his eyes. Slowly, excruciating slowly he pushes his thumb past your lips, coaxing you to suck it into your mouth.

“Look at you, so eager, aren’t you?” Jacob smirks, loving nothing more than filling your pretty mouth. It’s a sight for sure, a sight that would be even better if it was his cock in your mouth instead of his thumb, but he’s in no rush today. It’s his day off, something he doesn’t get a lot, something he treats as special. What better way to spend that day with you, on your knees, underneath him, in any possible position and way? Nothing, absolutely nothing beats that.

You release his thumb with a pop, waiting patiently for Jacob’s next move. You keep your eyes on him as he gives you a nod, his sign of ‘go on’. You waste no time, licking his impressive erection from bottom to top. You keep your focus on the underside of his cock, following the large vein with your tongue, stopping every time you almost reach his tip. Jacob’s sharp intakes of breath every time you get closer and closer to the tip spurs you on to prolong your teasing as long as you can, as long as Jacob lets you.

Apparently it won’t be that long, the hand still tangled in your hair yanks you backwards. Your eyes shoot to his, while you give him an innocent smile. It’s not like he wasn’t enjoying it. His hand reaches out, grabbing his throbbing erection. He wraps his fingers around his cock, bringing it closer and closer to your mouth. “Suck,” he commands you, a side you don’t see often with Jacob, a side that makes you clench your thighs together as desire rushes through your body. You love that side of him, you can only wish it would come out to play more often. Maybe this is the way to achieve that, tease him until he can’t help himself but give in to that side of him.

You open up for him, allowing him to slide his erection past your lips. You close your lips around him, softly sucking on his tip. He moans at the feeling, sending chills all over your body. Even in the middle of a shower he tastes like he always does, manly yet fresh, you fucking love it. You simply can’t get enough of him.

Grabbing the base of his cock you give him a firm squeeze, another groan falling from his lips. Your tongue swirls around his tip, softly sucking, all while keeping your eyes on Jacob. The way his abdomen flexes every time you suck harder, his eyes looking up to the ceiling every time he moans, it’s addicting. Moving your hand at the same tempo as your mouth you find a steady rhythm. You flick your wrist just the way he likes, earning yourself another symphony of moans and groans. Like music to your ears, that’s how the moans and groans that leave his lips sound like. Music.

His hand moves to the back of your head, a clear indicator it’s time to hand over your control, although you wonder if you even had it in the first place. You can’t help freezing up for a second, it isn’t Jacob’s fault at all, but no matter the crazy amount of time you’ve been together, he’s still impressive. His cock, his cock is impressive and slightly intimidating. Although.. maybe it applies to Jacob as well, 6’6 of pure muscles, tattoos and a beard? Yes, it definitely applies to both.

Jacob notices your slight change in demeanour, halting the slow movements of his hips. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes showing genuine concern. You nod, flickering your eyes downwards, before meeting his eyes again. Jacob chuckles, clearly understanding what this is all about. “Don’t worry, sunshine. I know what you can handle, but squeeze my thigh if you want me to stop, okay?” he asks you, giving you a reassuring smile.

You nod your head, but Jacob won’t continue without hearing your voice, he needs to hear the words. He slips out of your mouth for a moment, allowing you to voice your thoughts. “I’m okay, J. Just a bit intimidated,” you tell him, smiling when Jacob can’t contain his laughter. “But I’m fine, J. I trust you,” you tell him, reassuring him he’s good to go. He gives you another smile before bringing his erection back to your lips, coaxing you to open up for him again.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and raspy as he pushes further into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head he slowly moves himself in and out of your mouth, making sure to never push you further than your limit. It takes you a few minutes to get used to him again, finally able to relax around him, taking him deeper into your mouth. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” Jacob praises you, only spurring you on to take more, to make this even better for him and you.

His hips thrust forward, deeper into your mouth, a low string of curses leaving his lips. He uses your mouth as he pleases, while also giving you the confidence you can handle him, you can take him. You bring one of your hands back on his thigh, bracing yourself. Your other hand reaches underneath him, gently cupping his balls. You roll them between your fingers, gently giving them your full attention. You know Jacob is close, you know he’s chasing his high as his rhythm turns sloppier and sloppier. All he needs is that last push, that last push over the edge that has him tumbling into the abyss of pure euphoria.

Jacob looks down at you, cursing under his breath. There’s just something about having his girl on her knees in front of him, her lips wrapped around his cock, that drives him absolute nuts. It isn’t a sense of power, it isn’t your surrender. It’s the complete trust you have in him, it’s the love that shows in your eyes, the way you clench your thighs as he fucks your throat, as he chases his orgasm. It’s the fact you’ll do anything for him to make this a phenomenal experience, just like he tries his hardest to return that favour, to make this just as enjoyable for you. It’s teamwork.

He’s so close, so close to reaching his high, so close to just shooting his release down your throat. So close, but today he has other plans, plans that don’t involve you swallowing his seed. The moment he reaches his high, his orgasm thrashing through his body he pulls your hair, releasing himself with a pop from your mouth. His hand shoots out, grabbing his cock and aiming his release at your chest, coating you in his cum.

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so shocked, and.. turned on. Watching Jacob orgasm is an amazing experience on its own, but watching him orgasm and mark you with his cum? That’s incredibly hot.  Hotter than you would’ve expected it to be, hotter than you would like to admit to yourself. It’s a damn good thing you’re already in the shower. “What was that, babe?” you ask him, even though you know the answer to that question already, it’s clearly written all over his face.

Jacob smirks at you, sliding his fingers through the cum on your chest. “Just staking my claim, sunshine,” he simply says, bringing his cum-covered fingers to your mouth. “Open up,” he commands you, pushing two fingers past your lips. You suck them into your mouth, licking them clean until there’s nothing left. Jacob makes a sound of approval deep in his throat when his eyes focus on your lips wrapped around his fingers, his eyes blazing a fire you’ve seen so many times before. You’re not done yet, you’re not done until Jacob tells you you’re done.

You release his fingers, looking up at the giant Swede before you. “You don’t have to do that, you know? I’m all yours, completely and utterly yours,” you tell him, smiling as his face turns into a grin. He holds out his hands for your, helping you back onto both feet again.

“I know, but I like you covered in my cum. It looks good on you,” he simply says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the most normal thing to do. You shake your head at him, stepping back under the stream, washing away all the evidence of his ‘claim’.

You feel his eyes on you, on your body, on every inch of your skin. It almost burns, leaving a sizzling feeling behind wherever his eyes landed on. His heated stare makes you ache with lust, desire for him, only him. The predatory look in his eyes tells you he’s coming for you, he’s coming for you hard. You’re more than ready for him, more than ready to take all of him.

Within a second his lips crash on yours, his hand landing on your cheek, keeping you close to him. He backs you up against the shower wall, his knee pressing itself between your legs. You gasp into the kiss, giving Jacob the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. You can’t help but roll your hips forward, grinding down on his thigh. Jacob smirks against your lips knowing you can’t help yourself, knowing you can’t control your need for release.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here against the wall, sunshine,” he breathes out against your lips. Your breath catches in your throat by his words, a quiet moan leaving your mouth when his hand moves down your throat towards your breasts. His fingers linger on your throat for just a second, a second that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Aching for him, for his fingers, for his cock, just simply for all that is Jacob.

His hand cups your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple expertly. You drop your head against the cold shower wall, moaning out at the sensation of his fingers on your sensitive nipple, your core shamelessly grinding on his thigh. Your hand reaches between your bodies, instantly finding Jacob’s semi-hard cock waiting for you.

You close your fingers around him, gently squeezing his growing erection, moving your hand just the way that riles him up, gets him on high alert. “Fuck, you make me hard so fast,” he groans, thrusting upwards into your hand. You smile triumphantly at him, the knowledge that you have this much power over him, makes you even more desperate for him.

Jacob presses his thigh harder against you, his fingers still playing with your taut bud, rolling and pinching them, switching between your left and right breast, driving you absolutely mad. “Are you gonna come for me again, sunshine? Are you gonna show me how pretty you look while getting yourself off on my thigh, huh?” Jacob whispers in your ear, spurring you on to take, take whatever you need. The bastard knows how much his words, how much his teasing turns you on.

His mouth barely leaves your skin, biting and nipping on your neck, throat, anything he can reach. He knows you’re ready for him, ready to take all of him. Hell, you’ve been ready for him all morning, he fucking knows it, but God, he loves to get you off, he loves to watch you get off.

On edge all morning it takes you way less time than expected to reach your high, your second orgasm of the day crashing through your body. Jacob’s name on your lips like it’s the only thing on your mind, and in a way it is. His hands keep your trembling body upright, his thigh still pressing against your now oversensitive core.

His eyes search yours as soon as you’ve come down from your high, a search for affirmation, consent. You reach up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down towards your own, crashing your lips on his. “Fuck me, J,” you mutter against his lips, the twinkle in his eyes telling you that’s exactly his plan.

You squeeze his now throbbing erection again, a breathy moan leaving Jacob’s lips. “You’re a tease,” he mutters under his breath, before grabbing the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. You squeal, not used to being this high off the ground. Jacob chuckles at your childishness, it isn’t that high up.

Your legs lock around his waist, pulling him closer towards your entrance, toward where you need him the most. He slides his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Chuckling low when you whine at him, tired of waiting, tired of not feeling him inside of you. So he gives you what you want, what you ache for. He lines himself up, before slamming all the way home. You choke on your own breath, the sheer force of Jacob’s thrust smacking the air out of your lungs. He stretches you to the absolute max, pain and pleasure going hand in hand, although pleasure has the upper hand here, it always has.

Jacob groans, trying to keep himself together. It was a bad, yet fantastic idea to slam himself deep inside of your tight pussy. The feeling of being buried deep inside of you will always feel like something extraordinary to him, it’s a mesmerizing feeling and if he could he’d stay like this forever.

“J, baby, you feel so good,” you whisper against his shoulder, bringing him back from his thoughts. He returns your praise with a low grunt of his own, slowly starting to move his hips again. Knowing it probably took some toll on him and his control you keep praising him, soft sweet nothings against his shoulder, against his lips. There isn’t much room to work with in the shower, the slippery tiles making it hard to go any faster than the slow and steady tempo Jacob keeps right now. It’s almost torturous, driving you absolutely mad. The way he fucks you, with slow and deliberate thrusts, making sure you feel every single ridge, every single vein on his cock.

Jacob loves this look on your face, the look of pure bliss, pure euphoria with every thrust he delivers inside of you. He knows he won’t last long, not after this morning, not with the way your pussy clamps down on him every time he moves inside of you. “Tell me what you need, sunshine,” he groans out, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. You need, he needs you, to finish first. You’ll always come first, always.

“I need more, J, harder,” you moan out, your nails digging into Jacob’s shoulders. His mouth finds yours again, and only when he bites down on your bottom lip he speeds up. His hands move to your ass, squeezing each of your cheeks roughly, pushing you further into the cold wall. You can still feel his teeth in your lip, when he picks up his pace further, slamming harder and deeper inside of you. Every thrust, every movement he makes hits the right spot inside of you, it’s so fucking good.

You feel your orgasm creeping closer and closer, you can feel it crawling over your back, inside your tummy, fucking everywhere. Your vision blurs, nails digging deeper into Jacob’s shoulders, black spots appear in your already blurry vision, until you explode around him. Fireworks, fucking fireworks as your orgasm rocks through your body, like your nerve endings are on fire. His name echoes through the shower, your head falling back against his shoulder, completely spent from your third orgasm of the morning. Fuck.

There’s no way, no fucking way he can hold out any longer. Your tight pussy pulsing around him, aftershocks from your intense orgasm still rocking through your body, no fucking way he can keep this up. He thrusts into you once, twice more, before his knees buckle slightly as he reaches his own high for the second time this morning. He groans out your name as he buries himself deep, so damn deep inside of you, coating you with his release. His fingers tingle, his legs feel like jelly, his head spins. Never felt a second, fuck.. even a first orgasm like this, so intense, so intimate, so out of this world, absolutely mind-blowing.

Jacob tries his hardest to stay upright, with you still in his arms. Completely out of breath, mind still full of a post-orgasm induced haze, he puts all his weight against your body, crushing you against the shower wall. He drops his head against your shoulder, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down his racing heart. “You okay there, love?” you ask him softly, running your fingers through his wet hair.

He chuckles low, his raspy voice sending chills all over your body. “More than okay, y/n, more than okay. I just need a minute, maybe two.”

A few more minutes pass, before Jacob carefully slips out of you, making sure not to hurt you in any way. He gently puts you back on your own two feet, pulling you back underneath the hot water. Jacob raises his eyebrows at you when you suddenly start laughing, although he can’t help the smile that forms on his face by your laughter. Nothing better than seeing his girl smile or laugh. “This water bill is going to be so damn expensive, Jacob,” you giggle, pulling him closer to you.

Jacob chuckles, brushing your wet hair out of your face. “I don’t care, that was fucking amazing. You are fucking amazing,” he exclaims, softly pressing his lips on yours in a sweet, loving gesture. He reaches behind you, grabbing one of your shampoo bottles. “Can I wash your hair?” he asks you, an innocent smile plastered on his face. Suspicious, but whatever, if that’s what he wants to do, you’ll play along with it. You nod your head, before turning around so he can reach your hair.

His fingers brush gently through your hair, the smell of your favourite shampoo filling your nose. You sigh softly, this might be the best feeling in the world, something you could get used to. For a moment you think of ways to get Jacob into the shower with you every time you need to wash your hair, but quickly decide that would be a terrible idea. Not for you though, but definitely for your bank account and mother nature. Definitely shouldn’t do that, right?

Jacob’s voice brings you back from your thoughts, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Am I doing this right?” he asks you, a hint of insecurity lacing his voice. You try to answer him, but the only sounds coming from your lips is a muffled moan. “I guess I am,” Jacob chuckles, gently washing the shampoo out of your hair.

You close your eyes, enjoying his hands brushing through your hair, just enjoying his touches. It’s like he can read your mind, it’s almost scary. Just like you expected he had more up his sleeve when he asked if he could wash your hair. His hands wandering down your body, gently soaping your breasts. His soapy hands make soft circles over your breasts, cleaning them thoroughly, even though there’s no way they’re still dirty after the amount of time you spend under the shower stream. “You just needed to touch me some more, huh? you muse, shaking your head softly at him, not bothering to hide your grin.

“I need to make sure you’re completely clean, sunshine,” Jacob tells you, humour lacing his voice. Not bothered by his actions you let him clean you, from your head to your toes, no spot stays untouched. You guess he needs this right now, to make sure you’re absolutely okay, a way of aftercare, so you’re more than happy to give him this.

It takes both of you another 15 minutes to finally get out of the shower and dry off. It’s hard, so hard when you have such an attractive male running around, a naked, attractive male may you add, to keep your hands to yourself. And boy, it’s the exact same way for Jacob, who can’t keep his eyes and hands off you, imagining all the possible ways he can get you underneath or on top of him today, tomorrow and the day after that. It’s hard not touching each other, but why should you stop?

So when an arm wraps around your waist after you just pulled on some panties and hooked your bra, you lean back against the muscular chest behind you. His arm tightens around you, his hand covering your belly. You can feel he’s also still in the process of dressing himself, feeling the warmth radiating from his naked chest. You drop your head against his shoulder, enjoying his affection and attention to the fullest while you still can. You don’t even want to think about that upcoming road trip, not right now, right now all you want to think about is him, him and his warm body.

Jacob presses a soft kiss underneath your ear, snuggling his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you, y/n. I’m going to tell you that a million times more, until you’re absolutely fed up with it, but I need you to know that,” he whispers against your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist, before looking up at him. “I love you too, J. So, so much, you know that, right?” you ask him softly, a small smile on your lips. His words make the butterflies in your stomach flutter at full force, you’ll never get used to hearing those words coming from his mouth, never. His words hold a certain edge though, an edge you aren’t used to hearing from him. It’s almost like he’s looking for confirmation, looking for a way to take away his insecurities, whatever they might be.

You squeal when he suddenly picks you up and drops you on the bed. For a moment he simply stares at you, his eyes raking over your body. Just as you want to tell him you aren’t having sex with him again, at least not yet, he chuckles. “I’m not trying to seduce you, sunshine.” When he finally got his fill of your body, he crawls on top of you, wiggling himself between your legs. He softly pecks your lips, before pulling back, a soft smile on his lips.

You cock your head at him, curious to know what he’s thinking right now. “Do you know why I call you ‘sunshine’?” he asks you, that same smile turning into a grin. You shake your head at him, you never thought much about that nickname, although you absolutely adore it. “I never thought I would find someone like you. Even after all this time together I’m still so,” Jacob muses over the right word for a moment, “amazed? I can’t even find the right words to describe it.” He stays silent for a few seconds after that, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Although he doesn’t speak, his face does. The smile plastered on his face tells you a lot, the glint in his eyes tells you even more. You better pay attention to whatever he’ll tell you, you can see it’s important to him.

“You filled my life with sunshine, you still do every single day. When you give me one of those grins that make your eyes wrinkle, I feel like I’m on top of this world.” You can’t help but laugh at that, it’s no secret Jacob loves that, even though you aren’t too fond of it yourself. “You know those first sunny days? Those first warm beams of sunshine after the cold winter?” he asks you, and you nod. “That’s how you feel to me, every time you smile, every time you look at me. You feel like those first beams of sunshine, the beams that warm your skin, the beams that make you forget the cold winter you endured. That’s how you feel to me, like sunshine. You light up my world, you cover me in sunshine, you are my sunshine.”

His words tug at your heart, you had no idea your nickname went that deep, that it has that much meaning to him. What he just told you means more to you than anything ever could. You can’t help the emotions breaking free, you can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, you can’t help how his words make you love him even more. He bared himself to you, showed his vulnerable side, showed you what you really mean to him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Jacob whispers, gently wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmurs softly as he gently kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips, anything, until you let out a giggle.

You cup his cheek with your hand, softly smiling through your tears. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, love,” you whisper to him. “You shower me in love, affection and good times every single day. You make me feel so loved, so safe, so special. No words can describe how much I love you, Jacob, absolutely no words, but I’ll try my very best to show you exactly how much. Every day I get to spend with you is one I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.”

Jacob leans forward, his lips pressing onto yours, so soft, so gentle, almost like he’s afraid to break this vulnerable, real moment you’re sharing with each other. You wipe away the stray tear that falls from his eye, he might be 6’6 and playing one of the toughest sports out there, he’s still human, he still feels like any other person. He buries his hand in your hair, pressing harder against your lips, never have you felt this close to each other.

He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you as a smile slowly grows on his face. “It’s a damn good thing I have you for the rest of my life then. We’ll cherish every day together,” he pledges.

You can’t stop your laughter as Jacob rolls over, taking you with him. You land back on top of him, staring down at the love of your life. “We’ll make every single day count, J.”

“Every single minute of every single day, sunshine.”

[fanmoose12]

a sort of?? continuation to this thing!

"Another."

"I don't think it's wise."

"Another," Levi presses, throwing a sizzling glare to his opponent. Then, with his voice so much softer, he adds, "Eren, start another game, please."

Eren nods and with a few quick motions enters the main menu and presses play. And so the game begins, and Levi grabs the controller tightly as the players start assembling on the imaginary field.

It's his fifth match against Zeke's, Hange's ex from years ago and Jean's dad. Levi has lost all the previous games, but he's determined to win this one. He has to win, in order to impress Jean. And by impressing Jean, he might also impress Hange, and, well, that is his priority, sort of.

His another priority is humiliating that fucker Zeke, because he's arrogant and cocky and so irritating and also he's Hange's ex.

And if a stupid baseball game is how Levi can assert his dominance over the jackass, then so be it.

He will win this stupid game, and Hange will be impressed. Levi will earn her smile, her praise, perhaps, even a kiss, and Zeke will get nothing, because he is Hange's ex and was allowed to come here only because it's Jean's birthday party and, technically, the bearded arrogant asshole is still his father.

"I believe in you, dad," Eren whispers into his ear just as the game starts.

The tight, annoying knot that was making him grit his teeth and throw furious glances at Zeke, loosens at the earnest tone of his son's voice. Eren believes in him. Levi feels like this will be the match that brings him victory.

The game starts, and Levi easily scores a few balls. But suddenly the game shifts, and he starts to lose, lose, lose. He swings the stick to the right, he presses on controls just a little too hard, but it ultimately leads to nothing and so very soon Levi sees the words he despises so much.

Player Zeke wins

It takes all of his self-control not to hit the head of the cackling man with a controller.

"Man," the asshole actually wipes at his eyes, because apparently Levi's humiliation is hilarious enough to make him cry out of laughter. "Are you that desperate to get laid?"

Well, yes, he is that desperate. But only if he'll get laid with Hange.

Which is why he has to win that stupid game. So, ignoring Zeke's poisonous laughter, Levi pats Eren's soft locks.

"Get the game started for me again, alright?"

"Alright," Eren agrees readily, but before he plods to the console, he leans close to Levi's ear and whispers, "Hey, dad, remember that program we watched a week ago? About monkeys? Don't you think that Jean's dad looks a bit like a monkey they've showed in that program?"

Levi's eyes trail to Zeke, who is sitting on the other end of sofa, his point finger lightly scratching his ear.

Fuck, he does look like a monkey.

The realisation is enough to make Levi chuckle. He squeezes Eren's shoulder and says, "Good observation skills, buddy."

Eren beams at the praise and runs to start the game.

"Ready to lose again, Ackerman?" Zeke gives him a self-contained smirk. Levi balls his fists to stop himself from throttling the bastard. Gods, what an asshole. What did Hange find in him?

Just as another match is about to again, Hange in question saunters in the room, Jean trailing at her heels. The easy smile brightens the room for a moment, before slipping to show an annoyed, angry frown.

"Zeke?" with hands on her hips and pouting lips, she looms over her ex, glaring at him furiously enough to make Levi grin. "Are you seriously playing that stupid game again? I thought you came here to see Jean."

His eyes are a bit panicked, but his smile is effortlessly brilliant as Zeke turns to look at Hange. "Honey," he begins, lifting his arm towards her. Hange roughly slaps it away. Levi internally triumphs. "I'll quickly destroy your... new friend for the seventh time, and then Jean and I are going to play. Right, son?" Zeke asks, tilting his head towards Jean. Jean simply shrugs and plops down on a sofa.

"I hope you win," he murmurs to Levi quietly, careful not to let his dad hear. Levi discreetly bumps his shoulder against Jean's, barely resisting the urge to openly gloat at Zeke.

"Don't feel too bad about losing to him," leaning over the back of the coach, Hange whispers into his ear. "Zeke is obsessed with this game," then, raising her voice so Zeke is able to hear, she adds, "He used to pay more attention to it than to me."

"Not true!" Zeke claims from his end of the sofa.

"Very true," Hange argues, still glued to Levi's side. "If you win, you'll absolutely destroy him," Hange murmurs, and then, before Levi can process what's happening, she leans a little bit closer, shortens the little distance that was still between them, and presses a gentle kiss to his. "Good luck, Levi. I'm counting on you."

Apparently, that's all he really needed to absolutely annihilate Zeke and the remnants of his dignity.

When the triumphant music starts to play and the banner rolls out to show that Player Levi has won, Levi nearly punches the air in celebration.

Luckily, he doesn't have to embarrass himself like that. Instead Eren does it for him, the kid starts jumping up and down, chanting "My dad has won, my dad has won," over and over again.

Perhaps, even more pleasant is a slight pat Jean gives to his dad's knee, as he tells him, "Maybe, try better next time, dad."

And then, Hange rubs the final portion of salt in the deep wound of Zeke's pride. She leans close to Zeke, her lips at his ear and whispers, careful not to let kids hear, "If that's any consolation, Levi is also much better in bed than you ever were."

The pure mortification that reflects on Zeke's face gifts Levi with immense amount of satisfaction. That feeling is almost as good as the one he receives when Hange laughs at one of his jokes.

"Let's go, Jean," Zeke pulls the boy to his feet. "We'll play catch outside."

With the most innocent expression Levi has ever seen on the boy's face, Jean asks, "Can Eren and his dad play with us?"

Levi never thought that the expression for fuck's sake can be so clearly seen on the one's face without them saying it. But Zeke's face is screaming it.

To his credit, however, he manages a semi-polite smile and, ruffling Jean's hair, he agrees. He doesn't grit his teeth and doesn't even flip off Levi when the kids start running outside. Zeke's all kinds of dick and Levi has more than enough reasons to hate him, but... his composure is certainly admirable.

Although, the facade slips, when Hange comes to wrap her arms around from Levi. She turns his head slightly, so he can meet her lips in a sensuous kiss.

"Zeke, look after the kids, alright?" she asks, not looking away from Levi. "We'll join you in just a minute."

Levi is too focused on the feeling of Hange's lips on his to be sure if Zeke really did say, "Fuck you, Ackerman," but even Hange's proximity doesn't make him miss the sound of the front door closing shut with a loud bang, announcing Zeke's departure.

"I never saw him so angry," Hange confesses when they break apart. "I think you have a special effect on him."

"Well," Levi slips his hand to her waist, bringing Hange just a little closer. Already, Zeke is very far on the least of his priorities. "You have a special effect on me, four-eyes. How long do we have?"

"Mm," Hange bites her lip as she thinks. Levi tries and fails not to stare at her. "I think we can allow ourselves to arrive ten minutes later."

Ten minutes with Hange isn't nearly enough, but, even so, it's ten minutes, with Hange, and without kids around.

Besides, ten minutes is more than enough to make one bearded asshole very, very angry. And Levi thinks that it's certainly a neat, pleasant bonus.

[whatsmyline-pb]

I guess I’m now writing a modern T/A series based on ridiculous Tom Hardy photos (and eventually CM pics too?) Here’s part two:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32103217

Series: Inspired

Work: Business as Usual

Summary: A modern Tommy/Alfie riff on those ridiculous TH MySpace photos.

They say to never mix business with pleasure and this is an anthem that Alfie could give fuck-all about; he is more than happy to spit in the face of conventionality and its ridiculous adages. Tommy, on the other hand, is not so keen to shed such things, is annoyingly determined to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

He shrugs off Alfie’s hand with narrowed eyes when it lingers too long on his shoulder during meetings. Shoots off deadly glares at the subtle innuendos Alfie throws his way when they meet with potential clients. Greets him with stony, infuriated silences when they reconvene later in the evening for purposes that are decidedly not business-related.

Alfie fucking loves it. Loves it when Tommy strides into his flat after a day during which he’s been particularly indecent, radiating annoyance and petulance and arrogance. It’s a challenge Alfie welcomes with open arms, all together delighted to set about the task of unwinding Tommy’s moods, teasing him into bed where he can then dutifully strip him bare and turn his ire into quivering need.

And as with most things when it comes to Alfie, Tommy should know better. His bad moods and sullen responses to Alfie’s behavior only serve to further encourage it, pushing him to infuriate him more and more.

—

It’s about a month after Alfie’s fateful run in Margate that he begins to send scandalous texts to Tommy throughout the workday. The idiot had made the mistake of sharing his calendar with him, so Alfie always knows just the opportune time to bombard him.

It starts off innocent enough. The occasional text recalling the night before (Can't stop thinking about how glorious that beautiful ass felt around my cock) or anticipating evenings to come ( I’m going to make you come so hard tonight you won’t be able to walk for days). Alfie always hits send with a rush of glee, imagining Tommy checking his buzzing phone during important negotiations, his cheeks flushing pink upon reading them, followed by a clenched jaw and quickened breaths.

Without fail, Tommy never responds, but still comes to him later, throws his briefcase onto the couch before seething out, for fucks sake, Alfie, and slamming him against the wall or counter or fridge with an aggravated kiss. It’s utterly delicious, and Alfie happily welcomes the bruises that emerge under Tommy’s aggressive ministrations and the moans of desire that soon follow as he takes him fully.

—

Alfie ups his game quickly from words to photos. He makes sure to not send anything too incriminating, no dick pics or anything, he’s not entirely lacking in class, after all. But there are teasing shots of bare arms and his unclothed chest and wetted lips and an exposed inguinal crease. All his parts that he knows Tommy likes best.

The result is far more effective than words, Tommy later barreling into his flat in a storm of ferocious lust and annoyance, equally.

One time, when Alfie yearns to taunt Tommy during what he knows is a particularly important meeting, he can’t find a moment of his own to take a current photo, and instead delves deep into his archives, finding one from his MySpace days, nearly decades ago.

The photo he stumbles upon is absurd. A young picture of him nude but for a pair of scrunched white drawers, leaning languidly against a door frame, crotch unabashedly defined. He sends it without a moment's hesitation.

Tommy doesn’t wait until their evening plans to respond. He strides unannounced into his office midday and slams his phone onto Alfie’s desk.

“You’re getting fucking lazy, Alfie,” he says, a strange, unfamiliar energy humming about him. “Can’t even be bothered to send something recent, eh?”

Alfie grins in response and cocks his eyebrows.

“Ever rescued a dog, Tom? Naw, I bet not. See the thing is, when you rescue a dog, often it’s no young pup. And all you can think the whole time you’ve that majestic beast in your care is, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to see this beauty in his youth. So, considerate man that I am, I figured I’d grant you said pleasure.”

Tommy barks out the rare, loud laugh, his eyes twinkling and mouth spread wide. Alfie wastes no time in undressing him and fucking him senseless against his desk.

—

From this, Alfie learns that the one thing he loves more than riling Tommy up is making him laugh, and from then on his actions take on a whole new purpose.

His sent photos become less scandalous and more ridiculous and are more often from the past than not.

There’s the picture of him, lips pursed and bare-chested, but for a green vest, hand sneaking beneath his waistband. And the one of him flexing his youthful upper body quite wonderfully, if he does say so himself. And then there’s the one with him donning nothing but an orange thong and a baseball cap and a wonderfully trimmed mustache. So many to choose from, so he sends them all.

Tommy doesn’t make it easy, and Alfie has to admit he’d be disappointed if he did. More often than not Tommy strolls into his flat, skillfully masking amusement with annoyance, parading about uninterested. But Alfie can see the lightness glinting in his eyes, the slight twitch in his hard-pressed lips, and it’s with wholehearted joy that he strips away Tommy’s pretenses and delights in his ensuing undoing.

—

One day, things go particularly awry. It’s not Alfie’s fault, really. How was he supposed to foresee that Tommy had recently synced his texts to his computer and that his latest sent photo, entirely unprofessional— in fact, the most raunchy of them all— would pop into frame while Tommy was reviewing spreadsheets with his newest client?

There’s no world in which Alfie should be held accountable for this, except for Tommy’s. But still, when, instead of a non-response to his text followed by a late-night visit, Alfie receives a phone call, there’s an unease deep in his stomach.

“You crossed the fucking line, today,” Tommy informs him, with a particularly steely tone. Alfie balks.

“I what? ” He asks, incredulous. Tommy recounts his day and hangs up abruptly at Alfie’s ensuing laughter.

Countless texts later Alfie has convinced Tommy to come over, after all. Despite his complete lack of responsibility for the disaster his earlier text had resulted in, Alfie can’t help but feel a pang of remorse.

So he swallows his pride and sets about a scheme to rectify matters. He’s naked but for his cinched white underwear, posing against the wall, emulating that first MySpace post he’d shared, when Tommy enters his flat. Tommy falters when he sees him, clearly so ready for defiance, but shocked into something else entirely.

Alfie rubs his free hand over his beard, says, “2005 called. They want me back.”

The grin that splits over Tommy’s face should be relief enough, but it’s not until he steps forward and cups Alfie fully in his palm, his lips grazing softly over his, that Alfie knows his sins are truly forgiven.

They spend the night enthusiastically fucking and, when morning comes, continue, canceling their workdays, pleasure thoroughly trumping business.