#those bottom lashes in this chapter i swear to FUCK

[kuroko99]

HIM HIM HIM HIM HIM

[stressedemoblackbratz]

pretend

pairing: shuri x singer!black reader

warnings: swearing and fading relationship between reader and her boyfriend

a/n: as you can tell, i was definitely inspired by Zay’s own writing (the title has magically excused itself from my brain (i’m thinking lemonade, but i don’t wanna fuck up) my apologies, but i’m gonna blame that on finals). i loved the chapters and it inspired me to write something after a year. those euphoria requests wore me out lol. also, i don’t mention the death of anyone in this story. it didn’t happen…okay? okay! i might do a backstory to this? I’m not really sure, but we’ll see. i hope you enjoy babes!

words: 1.4k + not proofread

let's pretend we never met. a good excuse to play forget. let's pretend you never lied, so i can give it up all night, swallow my pride, and learn to forgive. when i'm looking for love i pretend it's you. a love that never ends.

the bed was cold, your lace band was on snug, and the food you cooked for your boyfriend of 2 years was cold.

and after all that damn cooking?

he could throw away the food and clean the dish he didn’t get to eat.

2 years and this was life. you used to bask in each others presence, go on dates, write poems together, make appearances, but now?

now you barely saw him because he was rehearsing lines with his new costar and you were trying to finish your album.

he didn’t look at you the same anymore, the house was cold, and those i love you’s we’re definitely empty.

you were perfect and just like that it was gone.

pretending like you were fine was the only thing you two had in common.

you remember one morning darius got a call stating he nailed his audition and filming would start soon. that night you two attended a movie premiere then at the after party you met t’challa and he introduced you to his sister, shuri.

now it was forced smiles on the red carpets, powdering your face after cry sessions, lying for him, and him avoiding questions about you slyly.

real enough.

now shuri, your producer for your upcoming 3rd studio album, she knew better.

she watched you write the songs, cry mid recording, consoled you when you came in with puffy eyes and swollen lips, fed you when you realized it had been some time between your last meal due to the fast paced life…she picked up the pieces.

and she hated it because she’s in love with you.

“okay! okay! but sza? ctrl literally raised me…sos is gonna eat.” you proclaimed to shuri one night after recording one song and touching up two others. it was crunch time and your label and fans wanted the album soon.

laughing at your seriousness she put the pho she had ordered down. the light you got in your eyes while speaking on the popular album was so cute to her.

you loved this shit as much as she did.

you were raw. letting each emotion out in each song and showcasing your life to shuri before showing it to those who supported you and your craft. you didn’t put on a facade in front of her even after you had been pretending for awhile.

“for me uh…” shuri paused to think after her giggles died down. she licked her bottom lip before flicking her eyes to yours. “definitely ego death by the internet. they raised me and i hope that their next album isn’t their last. i’d scream out to bast.” she started giggling again with you joining in.

two beautiful women discussing a mutual love.

“hey y/n. listen baby, i’m gonna be late, but i promise i didn’t forget.” you could hear aeva, darius’s costar, giggling in the back. “see you soon, love you.” he quickly said before the recording clicked in an ending.

according to him he wasn’t with her intimately, but you knew him. he was drawing away for awhile, way before this role. you wanted the peace of not caring or wondering what he was doing. wondering if what he once felt for you was what he felt for her just times ten.

in that moment, with tears in your bottom lash line and legs criss crossed sitting in the large black satin bed, you knew him coming home in a few hours, waking you up with sex and sorry’s you’ve learned not to believe wouldn’t cut it this time.

it hurt so bad to know that you were done.

it hurt more to know you gave up, not that the love died. you had already grieved on that. you tried so hard, but it takes two.

but you were so happy because you’d be able to address those growing feelings you had for a certain wakandan producer.

those feelings you suppressed to honor what was left of your expiring relationship.

all of that was over. you decided it.

climbing out of the king sized bed, you made your way to the bathroom. after cleaning up your face and sighing at the water clumped lash extensions, you decided you needed to shower to sooth the ache you felt simmer in your heart.

while rinsing the soap off of you, you realized your bedroom would make you feel suffocated. you needed to leave.

the only place close by though? shuri’s studio.

quickly drying off, moisturizing, putting on deodorant, and changing into a light pink crochet top, panties, black shorts, and the most beat up pair of crocs you owned, it was almost time to go.

a purse and jacket on one arm with your phone and keys in the other hand led you downtown.

shuri was up playing with beats. you needed one more song on the album before your label would review it and decide on the next steps.

she didn’t want the hard work you had done to not be cleared. this final beat would put you and her in the spotlight. this album was your baby and in a way, hers too.

she hadn’t heard griot announce your presence as she nodded her head to the beat, but she acknowledged your existence when she smelt your signature scent overwhelm her nostrils.

you definitely noticed her. she smelt so good and looked even better. her curls hung in front of her face, different vibranium rings across all 10 fingers, wearing low hanging sweats, and a tight beater that helped show off her lean, but muscular frame.

“y/n?” she called turning around. by the look of your eyes her heart dropped, but she could notice a different kind of look on your face compared to what she usually saw associated with that feature.

“what’s wrong, entle? kukho into ayenzileyo?” she asked stopping the beat, queuing a different track, and grasping your hands.

you smiled at her urgency. she was always so sweet to you.

“shuri you know i’m still learning. i only caught you calling me beautiful.” you teased with a smile. her heart didn’t feel as heavy anymore with that look. it wasn’t forced, just playful.

“kukho into ayenzileyo, i asked did he do something?” shuri said with a light smile and knowing eyes. yours darkened a bit before you looked away and contemplated on the best way to tell her.

“he promised he wouldn’t miss dinner again, he did and it’s because he wants to be with her.” shuri frowned at his actions.

“i can’t take this anymore so i’ve decided when he comes home i’ll let him know we’re done. i’m going to make sure he gets a good mover for his items and i find a good locksmith so he can’t come back.” you revealed. saying it out loud made you feel lighter.

“i’m giving it all up. i choose me and my happiness.” you whispered as she brought you into her chest. the slight jolt she endured as a result of you slamming into her made her bump the play button and start the last song you recorded together.

let’s pretend that we bout to break up…to catch the feelings so we can make up…

“i’m…i’m proud of you! this whole album was you baring it all and finding yourself…this might be the end of a chapter. you’re stepping into a new book.” shuri spoke to you. she was tired of picking up the pieces he broke. she was tired of seeing you try to fix them.

let’s pretend i ain’t your friend so we can get it on again.

“ndiyakuthandana.” she whispered her love to you.

so we can get it on again. let’s pretend we never met, a good excuse to play forget.

“nam ndiyakuthanda” you whispered right back.

i pretend it’s you…that i’m in love with…

a tattooed hand gripped the side of your face before shuri questioned you.

“you mean that shit?” she lowly whispered.

you looked into her dark eyes and thought about everything. the first session, your recent session, the parties, the conversations, the outings, the meals you ate together, the secrets you told, the feelings you shared, everything you’ve experienced with her or because of her you wouldn’t trade.

you did mean it.

a thousand times you’d say yes.

with a nod from you shuri lifted your head from her chest and kissed you.

she’s been waiting for it.

that kiss was one of many that night. clothes left on the soundboard, seven mixed calls and a few texts left from darius ignored, the sun started to come up, and a new life was brewing on the horizon.

pretending led you to what you really wanted.

shuri.

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter Thirteen

Niall

"That's fine."

With a pen in my hand, I scribble the date of the business trip in Italy, one that hovers around the same time as Jenna's wedding.

But honestly, fuck that wedding.

The more I see Wren pour into that and the way her sister treats her in return, the more it makes me want to tuck her away and show her exactly how important she is.

George Finley hums under his breath. "Will you be needing any extra accommodations?" As the person in charge of setting up every aspect of the event, I can't help but smile at his grumpy nature. "Usually you just need passes for one."

"Two." I say without thinking. "I'll have someone with me this time, Wren Jacobs."

Silence settles over the call, everyone else knowing that not once have I ever requested added amenities to a stop on any of the tours that I've attended.

"I've got that taken care of." His gruff voice comes through the receiver before he checks on everyone else. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Sitting at my desk, I turn around in the chair and look out of the floor to ceiling windows of my office that overlook the course as the call ends. It's hard not to want to just get lost in the view when the rolling hills stretch out forever and the clouds paint the skies in the most perfect ways.

Something cold presses to my hand only to be replaced by soft fur and the tiniest little growl, pulling my attention away from the view and to the dog in front of me.

"Does someone need some attention?" Scratching under his chin, I smile when his back foot hits the hardwood flooring. "Yeah? Did I get the right spot?"

"Niall?"

I know it's Wren before I even turn around. Her voice is soft but it reaches into every part of my body even from where she stands at the door to my office.

Cal abandons me, running across my office and sliding to a stop at her feet, tail swishing back and forth along the hardwood floor like a dust mop. "I swear he would pick you over me every single time."

"Hey there, cutie." Bending down, Wren smiles as she holds a couple folders in her hands but makes it work in order to pet him. "Do you like me more than your mean, old daddy?"

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I do everything in my power not to focus on the way that last word sounds coming out of her mouth. Or how much I wouldn't mind hearing outside of this office.

"I am not mean or old." Crossing my arms over my chest, Wren looks up at me. "Thank you very much."

She hums, standing up and straightening out her skirt that makes me want to do the exact opposite. "That's to be determined. I was bringing you a couple of things for the spring marketing ideas. You'll just need to look over them and finalize whichever you would prefer."

Cal decides that the two of us are boring, retreating to the oversized bed next to my desk, resting his head and looking up at the two of us with those big brown eyes.

"I'll add it to my list of things to do." Stepping closer to her with a smile on my face and grabbing the folders, I let my fingers trail across her skin and relish in the way it feels. "You look beautiful today."

The apples of her cheeks flush the perfect shade of pink and she pulls back, crossing her arms around her waist. "I can't stand you."

"Are you sure about that?" Crowding into her space, my fingers reach out and tug on one of the loose curls framing her face before letting it slide through the tips of my fingers. "Because I feel like that's a lie."

Those perfect dark eyes with a hint of golden honey find mine, framed in dark lashes. "Who says I'm lying?"

There's nobody around, but I slide my arm around her waist anyway, pulling her body flush to mine. "I do."

Wren looks up at me, her pupils taking up more space and pushing the rich brown out even more. Cupping her jaw, I let my thumb travel along the edge of her bottom lip, my eyes glued to the motion.

"You are so dangerous. So fucking dangerous, do you know that?" My voice sounds rough, like gravel. "It drives me insane."

"Niall—"

Just as I'm about to lose any sense of self restraint, the phone on my desk starts ringing just like it has all day, breaking through the tension and making Wren pull back.

Which is probably for the best.

At this point, it's getting painful to not be able to touch her in all the ways I wish I could.

It's beyond painful trying not to tell her how much I don't think I want to pretend anymore.

By now Wren and I have spent enough time together for me to realize that she's the person that I didn't know was missing from each corner of my life and she was right under my nose the whole time.

Every single time I see her, I want to ask her if she feels the same. If she wants to trash the rules as much as I do.

If she wants me like I want her.

Sure— she's seven years younger than me and thinks that coffee should always be iced, but what does that really matter in the end? In the end what matters is that she makes me laugh harder than anyone I've ever met and her presence makes me feel more relaxed than I've ever been.

The phone keeps ringing as we stand there and look at each other, tension thicker than ever. "I should get that."

"You should." She whispers.

"Are you coming over later? For the date?" My hand hovers over the receiver as I wait for her answer.

We were supposed to go out to a nice restaurant but due to some issues with the ventilation issues in the kitchen, they called and canceled. So instead, Wren suggested we just cook at home and watch something on a streaming service.

It didn't matter to me. We could sit and watch paint dry for all I care. As long as I got to be around her that's all I cared about.

"Yeah." Wren backs out of my office. "Do I need to bring anything?"

Shaking my head I pick up the phone and tell them to hold, pressing it to my chest as a smile pulls at my lips just thinking about her being in my space. "No, I've got everything."

Turning and walking away from me, I watch her go.

Before I can stop myself I call out to her, making her turn around. "Have you ever been to Italy?"

And when she tells me that she's never been, I decide right then and there.

I'll make it happen.

For her.

__________

"Act cool, alright?"

Looking down at my dog, he looks up at me with his new green bandana, tail wagging as always.

Wren texted me that she would be a little later than she thought she would be because of traffic on her way home. It worked out perfectly because it gave me time to take a shower and take my little buddy on a walk before she got here.

A knock at the front door draws my attention away from the plethora of food that I ordered. When I asked her what she wanted before I left Willow Lake, she said that she didn't really care... So I ordered a little of everything.

Sushi. Tapas. Italian. Burgers. Pizza.

Literally everything spread all over the island in my kitchen.

Callaway barks excitedly as I make my way across the house, pushing open the door and looking at the most stunning woman I've ever seen standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Sorry I'm late." Wren smiles at me, pushing a lock of hair that slipped from her ponytail behind her ear. "The traffic was crazy."

Stepping aside and letting her pass me, I try not to focus on the way the dark blue leggings hug her in every place possible. Fuck, those leggings.

I know that I need to snap out of it— but I just fucking can't. I've never been so tired of fighting something in my entire life.

"Are you hungry?" Turning away from her and walking towards the kitchen, I smile when I hear her talking to our little guy. "Because I kind of—"

"Please tell me you didn't order all of this?" Wren laughs when I turn and grip the back of my neck, feeling exposed. "Niall!"

"Well you didn't really give me a lot to go off of when I asked what sounded good, therefore..." Spreading my arms wide, I give her a cheeky grin. "You get everything."

"You didn't have to get all of this." Crossing her arms over her cream colored sweater that's missing the bottom hem, she rolls her eyes. "What are you even going to do with what we don't eat?"

"Leftovers— Duh." Grabbing a couple plates from the cabinet and handing her one, we both fill up our plates. "What's in the bag?"

When she walked in, there was a tote bag hanging from her shoulder, the very one sitting on one of the barstools along the other side of the island.

"Oh!" Brown eyes grow wide as she sits her plate down, one already piled with various things. "I brought some face masks. I didn't know what you wanted to do but skincare is never bad."

"Let's do it." Without missing a beat, I put a few sushi pieces on my plate. "You gonna put it on for me?"

Wren swallows hard, looking down at her plate. "Yeah, yeah. That sounds good."

We look at each other for a couple more minutes, only the sound of the automatic water bowl for Cal piercing the quiet.

God fucking help me.

_______

This is the worst idea I have ever fucking had.

Just being around Wren in any capacity shreds every single sense of self that I've ever known.

"Okay, so we just sit here for like, five more minutes." Next to me on the couch, Wren settles back into the cushions with her head tilted towards the ceiling. "Then we can take them off and work the excess into our skin."

After we ate dinner, one that felt less like a date that we had agreed upon in a contract, but more like one that just felt right— We ended up here.

Wren was eager to dig into her bag of secrets and I can't say I didn't love sitting back and listening to her talk about skincare and what she liked.

All I wanted to know was how soft her skin was.

I know it is, I just fucking know it.

When she helped me put my own mask on, I almost said fuck everything and pulled her into my lap. From the way she sat next to me on the couch while One Tree Hill played in the background, it could have been so easy.

"I'm going to take mine off really fast and I'll be right back." Lifting herself off the couch, I stifle a groan when her palm pushes off my thigh. "Be right back."

In the few minutes that she's gone, I try to count backwards from a thousand or literally anything to get my mind off of the way her ass looks as she walks away from me.

"Okay so—" Coming back around the corner, Wren smiles at me and I know that I want to see that smile every single day. "Let's get this off."

Stepping between my legs, she leans forward and her fingertips trace over the edge of the mask before peeling it back and laying it on top of the discarded package on the table.

"How do I look?" A smirk pulls at the edge of my lips. "Well rested? Hydrated?"

Shaking her head, her laugh fills up every corner of my house— of me.

Her fingers work across my skin, her thumbs working the serum in, the feeling making a low groan work its way from my lips. "God, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Smiling down at me, I can't help but return it. "All done—"

Something happens outside of the floor to ceiling windows because all of a sudden the dog that was laying on the end of the couch has torn past us, going between our feet.

In the process, Wren loses her footing— tumbling straight into my lap.

With her hands fisted in my Nirvana shirt, my own hands find purchase along her waist, my fingertips burning against her skin from the absolute want that fires through every part of my body.

"Wren." My eyes drop to her lips. "Fuck."

Her eyes lock onto mine as she moves to straddle my lap, shaking her head back and forth so slowly it's almost like I'm imagining it.

"This is a bad idea." Breathless, her fingers find the nape of my neck, toying with the curls that lay there. "Such a bad idea."

"Please, baby—" I'm desperate for her in any fucking way that I can get her. "Please."

Resting her weight in my lap, I let my head fall back as her hips roll forward over the rough material of my jeans.

"Niall, god." Letting her head roll to the side, Her eyes flutter closed. "That feels good."

"You think it feels good sitting in my lap like this?" Dropping my hands from her waist, I reach up to cup her jaw and bring her closer to me. "Show me what else feels good."

Tentatively, her hips move just the slightest. "But this is against the rules— We shouldn't."

Those soft lips move against mine with every word, a tease.

"Wren." Dropping one hand back to her hip, I guide her along my length, knowing that there's no hiding how this makes me feel. "Who give a shit about the fucking rules?"

"If we do this—" A moan slips from her lips as she presses down harder. "No kissing."

"On the lips." I add, leaning up to press my lips to the base of her throat barely showing over the collar of her sweater. "But everywhere else is fair game, yeah?"

"Sure, yeah."

As soon as the words come from her mouth, there's no time to waste as I leave a trail of open mouth kisses along her throat, sucking the skin between my teeth and groaning at the whimper coming from Wren's throat.

Her palms flatten out against my chest, nails digging into my skin through the thin material of the vintage shirt, her hips rolling in an even rhythm against me.

"Can I take this off?" Kissing along her skin, I toy with the hem of her sweater. "Let me see more of you."

Nodding, she helps me pull it off before throwing it behind her and baring her torso to me.

I'm a dead man.

If I thought I was done for before?

It's nothing compared to how I feel seeing her smooth skin with the black lace right in front of me.

"I need—" Wren frowns. "Please—"

Leaning up, I nip at the skin of her breast above the edge of the lace. "Tell me what you need. Let me give you what I can."

"I just need you right now."

"Use me, Wren." Pulling at the waistband of her leggings and letting it snap back into place, I groan when she presses herself into me harder. "Be a good girl and get yourself off for me."

The way she moves against me has me half a second away from losing my mind, happy that she's using me to get something that she needs and not going somewhere else for it.

"I could come like this." Breathless, Wren arches her back when I thrust my hips up to meet hers. "You feel so good."

"Have you been thinking about it? Thinking about how good I could make you feel?" Leaving a mark along the top of her breast, I soothe it with my tongue. "Do you think about me when you're alone?"

Biting her bottom lip, she nods just a second before she pushes her hair out of her face. "All the time, Niall."

"Show me— Show me how you'd move above me." Dropping my hands to her thighs, I let her move even more frantic above me. "Tell me how wet you are— How easy it would be for me to get inside of you."

Reaching for anything to hold onto, her hands slide up my arms and just barely under the sleeves of my shirt to grip my biceps. "So easy. So fucking easy, Niall."

"Birdie—"

I watch her as she gets what she needs from me, knowing that I'm going to relive this moment in my mind for the rest of my life.

"I'm so close—" It's a heavy whisper, her breath hot on my neck as she buries her head into the crook of my neck.

"Take it— Take what you need." I groan, doing everything I can not to come in my pants like a teenager. "Let me see that pretty face when you come for me."

Wren looks at me, those beautiful brown eyes so full of everything I've ever wanted. "Yes. Yes."

With one more roll of her hips, I watch as she lets herself go, the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen.

A strangled moan falls from her lips just before she lets herself collapse onto my chest, my hands immediately going to her back and running up and down her spine.

"You're so perfect, don't you know." It's barely above a whisper, but it's true. "So fucking perfect."

Pressing her lips to my neck, I tilt my head to the side as she leaves her own trail of kisses up my neck and to the scruff that covers my jaw. "Thank you."

"Let me get you something so you can clean up, yeah?" Still tracing my fingers over her warm skin, I don't really want to get up but if I don't then something else will happen on this couch that shouldn't.

She nods as I stand up, lacing my fingers with hers and walking towards my room and into the master bedroom, showing her where the bathroom is and leaving a pair of old sweats for her, I take myself to the guest bathroom and step inside.

While she cleans herself up across the house, I wrap my fist around my cock and bring myself to my own climax without an effort with the thought of her on my mind.

It's both the best and worst high of my life.

Cleaning myself up and expecting to meet her out in the living room, I frown when I see her packing up her bag and awkwardly making her way towards the front door.

Before I can even get close to her, she gives me a terrible excuse and slips through the door before I can do anything to stop her.

Before I can do anything to make her stay.

And I would... Ask her to stay.

But as I watch the lights disappear down my driveway, I can't find myself to feel bad about what happened between us.

Because it might have started off as fake, but I know just as well as she does that there's no way that it's fake anymore.

Whatever lies between us?

It's real, so fucking real.

Whether we want to admit it to each other or not.

________

twitter @ niallsgoldhoop

-Alex 🍀

[casspurrjoybell-26]

💖Sweet Revenge💖 - Chapter 18

*Warning Adult Content*

Blake Welling

It's almost ten a.m. when there's a knock at my door.

I've managed to get myself out of bed, eat a bowl of cereal, brush my teeth and throw a few things in boxes but that's about it.

When I open the door and find Aaron standing there, I wish I'd made more of an effort to get my shit together.

He looks a lot better than he did the last time I saw him.

The day after the fire, he'd looked so lost, so hurt, I'd wanted to hold him and never let go.

I'd wanted to tell him everything was all right... would be all right but I couldn't because that would have been a lie.

Everything was not all right and I didn't know if it ever would be again.

His shop is gone.. his beautiful chocolates... all that work... reduced to ashes and my dreams are just as demolished, though I at least have wreckage I can salvage.

Now he's talking about new dreams... shared dreams... and I don't quite follow.

Not until he hands me the thing he's been holding behind his back.

It's a red, heart-shaped box, tied with a white ribbon.

On top is a simple card, with three words written in a curling script.

'To my hero'.

I take it and for a moment I think my heart has stopped.

Then the box falls from my hand and hits the floor.

It's not that I don't want the chocolate it contains... I do, very much but I want the man who made it even more.

He starts to take a step back, not understanding but I reach for him, pull him towards me by the front of his shirt and kiss him.

He tastes like chocolate... dark, sweet and bitter... and I let the crutch fall from under my arm as I wrap both around him.

I can tell he's startled and he isn't quite kissing me back, so I stop and pull away a bit, my eyes shifting between each of his.

"Aaron... I want it all. I want your chocolate, your love, your dreams. I want you. If that's... if that is okay?"

His mouth is slightly open and then the corners curve up and he smiles.

"Yeah. That's okay."

His eyes drop, hidden by his thick lashes.

"That's what I came to tell you that day, when you were on the phone. I realized... I want you, too."

He looks back up at me and the thin strands of my control snap like over-stressed rubber bands.

My mouth lands on his a little too hard and he laughs against my lips.

"Hey, slow down," he says, pushing the door shut behind him.

"We don't have to do this right here. I mean, don't you have a bed or something?"

I could almost have lifted him and carried him again but I'm pretty sure Dr. Patreski would hunt me down and kill me herself if I did, so instead I grab his hand and drag him with me to the next room.

Somehow I wrestle him out of his shirt while my mouth never leaves his and get my own off as well.

I have to pause to work at his belt buckle and my hands are shaking so much I can barely work it loose.

"Fuck," I swear, when I can't get it.

He laughs and pushes me away.

"Tell you what. You get yours and I'll get mine."

He sheds his pants and then he's standing in front of me in just those lovely, pale-blue briefs and then he sheds those, too.

Every inch of him is gorgeous, from his face to the curve of his half-erect cock and I hesitate.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking down at himself with a frown.

"It's not you," I say.

"I... my leg... I have scars."

His expression eases.

"Is that all? You think I'll care?"

He smiles.

"Come on. You've seen mine. Now it's your turn."

He's right.

His scars might not be visible but that doesn't make them any less real.

I pull off the rest of my clothes and he stares but not at my scared leg.

Walking towards him, we collide again, bare-skinned and breathless.

I push him back lightly and he falls on the bed and I move to pin him, wincing a little as I do.

"Your leg..." he says, seeing my expression.

"Fuck my leg."

He grins lopsidedly.

"No thanks. I'm more of a bottom, actually. That's not gonna be a problem is it?"

Suddenly I find it hard to speak and I shake my head.

"Nope. Not a problem," I manage.

I kiss him again.

We're lying chest to chest, my cock between his thighs and his trapped against my lower abdomen.

I rub against him as I slide my tongue alongside his and he moans into my mouth as he stiffens.

I lift myself slightly to look at him.

His pupils are black and wide, blown with lust and his lips are red and slightly swollen from my kisses.

"How do you want me?" he mumbles, shifting against me so I feel his heat.

"Just like this," I say.

"I want to see your face."

Leaning down, I kiss his throat, his shoulders, swirl my tongue over the hard pink nubs on his chest.

I trail kisses down his body, over the slight rises of his abs, down to the nest of dark hair and his perfect erection.

He gasps and shivers and I engulf him in the dark heat of my mouth, taking him as deep as I can before slowly sliding back up.

My new favorite candy.

I hold his hips down so he can't thrust, so I have him at my mercy and lick and suck until he's red and weeping precum.

I'm so absorbed with my task I don't realize his moans have turned to desperate entreaties until he grabs the back of my hair and pulls me off him.

"For God's sake, Blake. I can't... Please..."

Suddenly, I can't either.

I jump up and grab the lube and condoms from the dresser, then climb back between his legs, pushing his knees back and apart.

I work him into readiness with my fingers and he squirms and cries beneath my touch.

The sight of him is too much.

"I'm sorry... I can't wait any more."

I set myself against his entrance and penetrate his body in one smooth, slow push.

He arches, veins standing out in his neck and gasps.

I wait while he adjusts, chest heaving.

Then I move... slow and fast...until I find the perfect rhythm and we breathe in unison.

I feel him tighten around me as he spasms and a moment later my own release blinds me and I thrust once more, buried in his heat.

Carefully, I pull away and he shudders on the echoes of pleasure as I do.

Then I collapse beside him.

My leg hurts but I don't care.

We're both sweaty and breathless and we smell like sex.

We lie without speaking and I listen to the whisper of his breath.

After a few minutes, I lift myself on my elbow and look down at him.

His eyes are closed, his face relaxed with something like bliss.

He's beautiful.

His eyelids flutter open and he looks up at me.

"You okay?" I ask and he nods.

"More than okay."

I grin.

"Good. Me too."

I loop my arm over his chest and pull him close.

We both need a shower but I'm not quite ready to let him go.

"If that was a dream, baby don't wake me," I murmur.

He laughs and turns to kiss me.

"You ass. That's not even what I meant. I want us to be partners. Business partners."

I blink in surprise.

"You what now?"

"Yeah," he smiles.

"I know 'bicycles and candy' aren't exactly 'peanut butter and jelly' but I think they can get along, if they try."

His blue eyes are wide and hopeful and I'd agree to just about anything to keep them that way.

"Sure," I say.

"I'll try anything, if I can try it with you."

[epickiya722]

REACTIONS TO EPISODE 5 - THRILL OF DESTRUCTION

It's the usual biz, genuine "at that moment reactions", some jokes here and there and me appreciating Miruko and my other faves.

LAST EPISODE'S REACTIONS!

Onwards!

Just knowing the chapters this episode will possibly cover and I'm ready to freak out!

Staring off with a recap, starring Miruko!

X-Less, it was nice knowing you.

Okay, I'll admit it was a little funny Miruko just laid back down after Endeavor to stay still. Like, queen, you have done enough. LAY DOWN PLEASE!! I'M WORRIED FOR YOU!!!

Oh my gosh, Backdraft?!

That little exchange between Present Mic and Eraserhead.

Maybe it's just me but Eraser Head is pretty here.

X-LESS, YOU SHOULD HAVE RAN WHEN YOU HAD A CHANCE!!!

I'll be honest... I do not like that cape on Shigaraki. He just never felt like a cape guy for me.

On the topic of the cape, why didn't it turn to ash when X-Less did? Shigaraki's quirk can spread now! Oh, what, he can control it like that now?! I NEED ANSWERS!!

"It's cold." Yes, it would be after you spent so long in a large vial of pretty purple liquid.

Fatgum really tried holding Tokoyami down. 🤣🤣

How he just dropped Kaminari, Honenuki and Komori out his fat!!! 🤣🤣🤣

"I WON'T LET YOU STEAL A RIDE OFF FATAXI!!" I LOVE FATGUM SO MUCH!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Dark Shadow sounded so sad. I want to hug Dark Shadow.

They... they didn't have to show Twice now. I do not want to cry right now. Unfair.

Mt. Lady just destroying walls while Dabi monologs. Hee hee, that's golden right there.

"Think about it, you BBQ'ed birbs." Oh wow, okay. You got jokes? 🤣

FATGUM RUNNING AWAY FROM MT. LADY'S ASS!!! "A BOTTOM!!" 🤣🤣🤣

Also, thanks, Geten, for unintentionally saving Tokoyami, Dark Shadow and Hawks.

Oh, he's pretty! Like ice prince pretty! Look at his lashes!!! Awww!!!

Look, real quick, I know some of you don't like Hawks, but I swear if I see bad talk about Tokoyami I'll riot. He is just a KID who is unaware of Twice's backstory. He just knows Twice is a villain and right now the villains have to be dealt with for the sake of society. He's going to be concerned for his teacher, alright? You can't fault him for it and I'm so tired of this fandom for not understanding that. The characters are not going to know the other's backstories, alright? It ain't hard to understand. The villains and heroes just see each other as enemies. It is nothing new in the superhero genre. 🙄 So if you're gonna get mad at Tokoyami for being concerned for Hawks, if you're gonna get mad at Tokoyami for being SCARED, then I'm gonna need you to not come this way.

Now back to our scheduled program!

Ah, shit, Gigantomachia is standing up!

"I smell my master. He's... awake." That is actually creepy you know that.

MY GOTH BIRD SON GOT HIS TITLE CARD!! I gotta use those purples.

URARAKA, TOO?!

Okay, Bakugou yelling at the old lady about the chocolate bun IS in the manga. That is not a new scene.

"You just want a chocolate bun, don't you?" Well, one, yes same! Two, the fact that he is aware of that is amusing and cute. 🤣🤣🤣

I will never get tired of Iida's arm chopping motions. So precious!! 💙

Aaaaw, Koda evacuating the kitties!! HE IS JUST TOO CUTE, THAT IS MY BABY!! MY SUNSHINE!!! 😭😭😭😭🧡🧡🧡🧡

Who... who is the airplane head guy?

*Midoriya stops* Ah, shit. It's happening!!!

NOT CRUST!! I ACTUALLY LIKED HIM!!! I knew it was coming... BUT DAMN!!! THE PAIN IS STILL THERE!!! First top hero to die, too. THAT SHIT IS HEARTBREAKING!!! SOMEONE HUG ME!!

Pixie-Bob, you tried.

Garaki, do you ever want to like... NOT TALK?!

ST. LOUIS SMASH AIR FORCE!! I'm sorry, but I love it when my green boy does his moves. He's great.

Okay, I like the evacuation scenes. Todoroki with his ice, Tsu doing her thing, Uraraka doing hers, Bakugou doing that, MIDORIYA PULLING A BUS.

OH HELL NO!! THE FUCK IS AROUND MY GUY'S ANKLES?! I WON'T STAND FOR IT!!

"Overhaul wouldn't be happy to see this." WHO CARES?!

*Shigaraki calls Machia* And the madness really begins!!

Overall, again, I don't have much to say about this episode. I liked it and now I shall go mourn Crust because he deserves it. He was gone too soon. 🥲

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️

Chapter 2:

You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.

“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.

You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.

You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.

“Open it” you hear faintly.

The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.

The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.

“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.

Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.

“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.

“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.

“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.

“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.

The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.

Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.

“What the hell is this?” You tremble.

“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.

“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.

“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.

Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.

“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.

Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.

“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.

You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.

“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.

“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.

“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.

“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.

“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.

You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.

“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.

You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.

Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.

“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”

You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.

“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”

Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.

“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.

“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.

“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.

He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.

“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.

You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.

“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.

He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.

“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”

“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.

You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.

“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”

You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.

“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.

Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.

“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.

“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.

“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.

You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?

His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.

“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[ghostoflinny]

Firewhiskeys & Happy Endings (Ginny Weasley x Harry Potter)

Warning: smut, drinking alcohol and swearing

Pairing: Ginny Weasley x Harry Potter

Link to Part 2: here!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38022460/chapters

Find my other stories in my pinned masterpost!

~~~~

Ginny is sitting back in her chair at the dining table at Ron and Hermione’s. She’s sipping on her firewhiskey, her insides warmed up and her head feeling light and free as she puts her third empty glass down. 

‘Merlin, Gin!’ Ron calls her out. ‘You drink that firewhiskey like it’s water.’

Ginny raises an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re just jealous it has taken you an hour to even finish your sweet cocktail.’ Hermione stifles a laugh, earning a glare from her husband before he looks back at his sister again. 

‘I’m not made for firewhiskey. Me and them do not go well,’ He huffs as he points at his sweet cocktail. ‘Thereby this cocktail is great.’

‘Sure, big boy.’ Ginny chuckles.

Ron looks to Harry and Hermione for help but Harry shrugs, a smug grin on his face as he brushes his foot up Ginny’s lower leg under the table. She reaches for the bottle of firewhiskey but knocks it over by accident.

‘Oh fuck,’ Ginny calls out as she quickly grabs for the towel that had been laying on the table after Hermione spilled her drink earlier.

‘Oi, you kiss your mother with that mouth?’ Ron says as he grabs his wand, cleaning the table for her. 

‘No,’ she says, a mischievous glint in her eyes that Harry knows so well. ‘But I do all different things to your best friend with it.’

Hermione gasps before breaking into a fit of giggles, Ron spills his own drink all over the table and she can hear Harry choke on his own drink. Hermione quickly jumps up to help Ron with cleaning the drink and wiping the table as Ginny lets her hand brush over Harry’s upper leg. She looks up at him through her lashes, her eyes dark and her cleavage on display for him - his eyes feasting on it - on her.

‘I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later,’ she whispers at him. 

Harry’s breath gets stuck in his throat, his senses awakening at the look on Ginny’s face. Her bottom lip sucked in, her eyes dark from lust to her cleavage presenting it to him and god would he like to free and suck on those right now. Her hand is slowly sliding to the inside of his thighs. 

‘Fuck Ginny,’ his voice is raspy and barely a whisper, sending a shiver down Ginny’s spine. She would never get enough of hearing her name roll off his lips like that. ‘You can’t just do that in front of them.’ He nods toward Hermione and Ron who were cleaning up the empty snack bowls and glasses off the table. ‘You need to stop.’

He gasps as her hand softly strokes the bulge in his pants. ‘Why don’t you make me?’ Ginny firmly grabs all of him and an involuntary moan leaves his mouth. ‘I’m not wearing any underwear.’

Harry jumps up from his chair startling all three of the others in the room. ‘Ginny and I should be going. It’s getting late and eh-’ 

‘I have to be up early from practice again tomorrow,’ Ginny swoops in to save him from the embarrassment.  

They say a quick goodbye to their friends, Ginny getting a wink from Hermione as she kisses her on the cheek. Women always know. As soon as the front door closes behind him, the two of them look at each other for a moment. Harry’s breath is accelerating as he takes Ginny in his arms, his hands cupping her ass. Ginny giggles softly as she can feel Harry’s sex pressing up against her. 

‘Someone’s happy to see me,’ she whispers as she grinds her hips against him, rewarding her with a throaty moan from her husband. 

Harry looks up at her, his eyes squinted as he looks at her lips up to her freckled nose and into her eyes. ‘I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.’

‘Bed. Now.’ Ginny said as she takes Harry’s hand in hers and they apparate to their apartment together. 

They breathe heavily as they appear back in their bedroom. Before Harry can fully recover, Ginny is already working on his jacket. She throws it to the floor as she unbuttons his dress shirt. She’s pressing kisses all over his neck and down his chest as his shirt falls to the floor next to his jacket. She kisses down his stomach, tugging his belt loose and pushing his zipper down. He steps out of his pants as he takes off her coat, moaning her name when she lets her fingertips brush the waistband of his boxers. His hands stuck in her hair when she pulled his boxers down, smiling down at his hardened cock. Her hands stroke him gently.

‘Can you see what you’re doing to me?’ he whimpered under her touch, completely whipped and utterly in love with this woman and he wanted her so badly. He wanted her to touch him, he wanted her to take him, right now. 

She wraps her hand around his sex, slowly moving it up and down as she watches Harry throw his head back in a pure bliss. His eyelids fluttered and his lips slightly parted as a moan escaped them. She bites her lower lip as she sinks down onto her knees, the tip of her tongue teasing its head before slowly wrapping her lips around it. Her head bobbed up and down as her lips and tongue got up to work. Her hand working on the end of his cock, moving up and down in the same rhythm as her head. 

Their eyes meet and a series of moans come from Harry as he looks at his beautiful wife on her knees with her lips wrapped around him. His hands lost in her hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes as she let her tongue tease the head of his cock again. She was stunning and he could never get over seeing her like  this. 

‘Fucking hell, Ginny Potter,’ Harry whined. ‘You’re so fucking hot.’

She can feel her husband tremble underneath her touch, his cock twitch against her lips when she pulls away again. She licks her lips as she stands up. She can see his eyes having darkened with lust and desire when she pushes him back. Her hand on his chest as he falls back onto the bed. 

‘Sit back,’ she commands and he complies, shuffling back until his back is on the pillow against the headboard. ‘Touch yourself for me, my dear.’

She’s twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she stands to look at her husband laying on the bed. His hand wraps around his cock as he slowly starts moving up and down. She can feel her sex starting to throb in between her legs and a blissful sigh escaped her lips as his eyes find hers again. He’s moving his hand up and down his length as his focus is completely on her as she slowly takes off her shirt. Her shoes and trousers slowly follow as Harry is softly panting. Little beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as his eyes take her in, looking her up and down as if he’s trying to savour the memory of every single freckle on her body. 

‘Oh don’t mind me,’ Ginny says, a playful smile on her face before she bites on her bottom lip as she looks at Harry’s cock in his hand. ‘I’m just enjoying the view.’ 

‘I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now,’ Harry grunst as he lets his hand massage the top of his cock. 

Ginny has a smug grin on her face as she slowly climbs on top of the bed, approaching him, letting her hand brush up his leg. Her eyes never leave his. She slowly removes his hand from his cock as she hovers over him. Her breasts graze his chest, her nipples hard and sensitive. 

‘You look so beautiful all spread out like this,’ Ginny whispers in his ear, biting down on his earlobe, making him gasp for air. ‘Just for me.’

She sits back up, her hands on his chest as she feels Harry’s cock press against her entrance. Making him whimper underneath her, full of lust, full of want, full of need. 

‘Don’t worry,’ she says as she lets herself sink down onto his cock, Harry moaning her name in the process. ‘I’ll take care of you.’

Ginny sits up, rocking her hips back and forth as she brushes her fingers through her hair before letting her hands travel down to her breasts, playing with her nipples. A soft moan escaping from her lips as she bites down on her bottom lip, rotating her hips now. Letting Harry’s cock hit the sweet spot that makes her cry out Harry’s name - her hands on his chest as she quickens the pace. 

‘I- I could watch you ride m-me all day,’ Harry grunts. 

‘Just shut up and fuck me,’ Ginny tells him, her eyes looking fierce into his, a spark of a challenge in there. ‘Don’t even dare to be gentle.’

Harry’s fingers digging in Ginny’s hips, pressing her down hard on his cock as he puts his feet down. Thrusting inside of her, his name sounding so pretty on her lips as she moans. His hands travel up to her breasts, taking her nipples in between his fingers, squeezing on them before sitting up. He wets his lips on her mouth before taking her nipple in between his lips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her down hard on his cock as they moved in unison. Her nipple still in his mouth, her hands tugging on his hair as she’s grinding her hips. They’re panting as their bodies melt into one. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, her tugging his hair and her nails scraping against his neck awakening a whole new level of arousal inside of him. Ginny can hear his breathing hitch as he throws back his head against the headboard, giving her the free space to move her body as she wants. Her nails tracing a line down his chest as she puts them down, her eyes trained on her husband. His lips part as he whispers her name huskily, low throaty moans painting her skin with goosebumps. 

She loves her husband and she loves pleasing him, making him feel good and god is he hot like this. His fingers dig into her thighs as she can feel him come to his climax. His body muscles contracting under her fingers. 

‘Fuck Ginny,’ Harry cries out as he reaches his climate. 

She pants as she presses down on his cock hard, her hips rotating in the way he likes it most to stretch out his orgasm. She can’t get enough of watching his body respond to her riding him into his climax. She can never get enough of hearing him moan as she takes him to his high. She presses her lips to his and kisses him hard as she rocks back and forth, feeling her own orgams build its way up to the edge. He sucks her bottom lip in as his hands pull on her hair. 

He’s rocking his hips in the same rhythm as she is, thrusting himself inside of her again. Hitting her sweet spot over and over again.

‘Harry,’ she whines against his lips. ‘Faster. God please faster.’ 

He obeys, he wraps his arms around her upper body, pressing her down on top of him. Her moans are loud in his ear as he pounds his cock into her. It makes Harry want to please her more. He wants to take her to her high the way she did for him. He wants to hear her moan his name. 

‘I’m so close,’ she whines.

Harry’s hands are on her bum as he thrusts into her. She screams out his name as she starts contracting around him, her body trembling on top of him. He kisses her shoulders, his hands rubbing her back. She pushes herself up to look at him, a smirk on her face as she grabs a handful of his hair. 

‘You didn’t think I was done yet, right?’ Ginny whispers. ‘I want your face between my legs right now.’ 

This fic continues: here!

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 2//Awake

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes

Chapter Summary | y/n finds a way to cope with the stress

Warnings | smut, vaginal sex, swearing, mentions of drug usage

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"G'morning, baby." Steve mumbled huskily, one eye opening into a squint so her could look at me without being blinded by the unforgiving sun spilling like water through the curtains that we may or may not have forgotten to close in our lustful hurry last night.

"Morning." I whispered back, fully aware of the brunet super soldier laying peacefully asleep behind me, cool metal arm sling over my waist atop the duvet. His hot, steady breath fanned over my neck, his nose buried into my hair. I was laying on my side, simply watching steve as he slept until he had clearly awoken.

"It's rude to stare, you know." He mumbled back lazily, eyes finally fluttering open. A wide smile played on my lips, as it always did when I could look so deeply into those ocean blue eyes.

"Sorry." I smile back, eyes pleading. A chuckle, low and rumbling, came from Steve at the sound of my disjointed, broken morning voice. "Hey!" I whisper-shouted, untucking my hand from under my head to slap Steve's bare chest, but he caught my wrist with ease. He slowly pulled it up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand, lips feathering against my skin.

"Now I'm sorry. I somehow forgot how you're still recovering." Steve apologised, continuing to press his lips to my hand, eyes looking into mine. I shuddered slightly, letting my free hand raise to my neck, my fingers dancing faintly over the long, horizontal scar spanning the space. The memory, the pain, still haunted me. Haunted me like a ghost that was sent for me, and only me. My dreams had often been filled with these images - ones of a flashing silver blade, sinister splatters of blood, grotesque and open wounds. The thought made me shudder again, as if to shake off the bad memories.

"You know that one won't be awake for a while." I mumbled, taking a glance at the clock over Steve's shoulder, seeing that it was barely nine am. Steve smiled against my hand, eyes loving.

"I know. So why don't we have a little fun while we wait?" He grinned, almost boyishly, a level of lust clouding the pure blue that usually dazzled across his eyes. I quirked a brow, expectantly, as Steve kept looking at my mischievously from under his long lashes, lips travelling quickly towards my neck.

He grabbed my other wrist, chuckling lowly as I giggled when he flipped us, gently pulling me from Bucky's grasp which earnest us a longing groan but not even a stir, before I was under Captain America in his bed.

Steve's lips didn't leave my skin once, his skin soft against mine as put naked bodies rutted into one another, my head thrown against the pillows now as I felt the surge of arousal pang at my core. One of this thick fingers traced my slit, circling my cliff lightly before he was pulling it away, offering the digit for me to lick clean. I moan at my taste, the sound matching Steve's groan as his cock hardened watching my suck off his finger.

"Ready baby?" He breathed, lining himself up with my dripping heat and pushing in when I whispered with a nod. His palm covered my mouth, strangling my moans and muffling any noise as he begun to thrust, slow but hard, the headboard slowly knocking into the wall behind us. The thumping of wood against plaster only made me more aroused, the realisation of how strong to man above me actually was.

With his free hand, Steve ran his fingers over my arm and up my wrist, before tangling them with mine and pressing my hand into the pillow beside me face, gripping me tight. His face was buried in the joint where my neck and shoulder met, his soft grunts disguised by my flesh as he bit down on my skin to keep himself quiet. My other hand claws at his back, harsh enough for boy of us to know there'd be lines down his back when this was done.

The trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock scraped across my clit with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure through me and causing stars to cloud my vision.

It was obvious we were both getting close when we heard Bucky speak.

"Getting started without me?" His raspy husk of a morning voice pondered, the bed dipping by my shoulder as he propped himself up on a fore arm. Steve groaned, lifting his face from my neck and turning it to the side, giving Bucky a glare. But his hips never stopped moving into mine. In fact, they only seemed to speed up, his pelvis slapping into mine hard enough to leave bruises.

"Don't mind me. I think it's a rather lovely sight to wake up to." Bucky grinned, his tongue tracing his bottom lip as he watch steve lift his palm from my mouth, tangling his hand with mine as a jumble of moans and pleas finally fell from my lips. "Make her cum."

And with those words alone I was seeing white splotches across my vision, my hips bucking up desperately and Steve threw his head back, the tightness of my walls from my orgasm causing his own.

"F-fuck! Y/n!" He moaned loudly, collapsing on top of me as he painted my walls with his seed. My eyes were still lost somewhere in my skull, chest heaving as I slowly ran my fingers through Steve's hair, his head resting against my chest.

"How about we fill in Bucky on what he's missed?" Steve murmured in my ear, teeth nipping along my neck, a smirk tugging at our lips.

...

Pulling her hood up further over her head, y/n quickened her steps. One of the other downsides that came from the night Bucky returned was that her face was now well know. With the amount of reporters and just cameras in general that were at the party her dad had originally thrown to celebrate the first proper steps of her recovery, y/n's face was probably the most well-know one in New York second to maybe only Tony Stark's himself.

The pavement slapped beneath the rubber soles on her shoes, the dirtied black trainers helping y/n blend in against the see of clearly struggling people. Her eyes stayed narrow, fixated on my target as she eyed the small alleyway, three doors away from Benjies, a little run-down cafe that no one wanted to buy and no one could afford to buy. The bricks swallowed any hint of safety, dark shadows lurked almost as anxiously as the people they concealed.

Sharply turning on her heel, y/n pivoted into the dingy space between two broken buildings, litters of waste, used joints and other miscellaneous junk scattered the crumbled tarmac floor, the gaps between bricks stuffed full with moss and wrappers whilst the bricks themselves were marked up with paints of all colours, forming poetic pieces of scrabbling artwork that decorated the discarded buildings.

Y/n cleared her throat, nerves bubbling as she approached the also hooded-figure who was leant casually against the left wall, giving the illusion he knew it well. But y/n could tell from the way his slender body was slightly tensed, brown eyes darting as the drips of clinging water shattered against stone and the way his hand rested over the side of his thigh - ready to pull out the small gun at a splits second notice that he was only once familiar with this place, but had neglected it - even fled it, for a long while now.

"You sure you wanna do this, kid?" His voice was soothing, a complete contrast to y/n's abused, scratchy one as she gritted through her teeth,

"Don't tell me what to do, Sam. You promised you'd give me the name of your supplier, no questions asked." She ground the last words out, hands falling from her pockets and balling to fists at her side. Sam sighed deeply, pushing himself from the wall and sauntering closer, closing the gap between him and y/n as he rolled his eyes obnoxiously at her irked stance.

"I know, just consider what you're doing. This shit can really fuck you up, I stopped for a reason." Sam suggested, fingers curling over her shoulder his his hand settled there, a comforting gesture.

"I know what I'm doing. I just- I can't keep up with the stress." Y/n admitted, a vulnerable crunch behind her grit teeth as she tried to spit the words out. Sam held his hands up in surrender, backing up a step when he saw the dangerous lurk to y/n's eyes.

"I know, I know." He offered a small smile, dipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and fishing out a small slip of paper, torn edges and all. He crammed the piece into y/n's waiting hand, but didn't let go as he looked directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know it's tough, and I get why. Hell, it's exactly what I did. But it's a steep slope, one that few get off of." He warned.

"I understand, are we done now?" Y/n scoffed, her indifference unnerving yet the facade held cracks that few could see.

"Just don't let your boys know I gave that number to you. I know both of them would give me hell if they ever found out I was involved." Sam requested, and y/n gave him a cert nod.

"They won't find out. Promise." Y/n even punctuated her words with a tight smile, although it didn't quite touch her eyes. Sam returned the gesture, all be it slightly warmer, before he was brushing past her, clearly desperate to leave the little alleyway before anyone could catch him.

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 12

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Implied cheating, swearing, destruction of government property, Javi has road rage.

Word Count: 2077

Notes: Reeling from what you witnessed in the alley, you arrive at the office for your meeting with Dixon. And you take out some of your anger on Javi's unwitting empty office. But in the midst of your rage, you come across something interesting.

Let me know if you find any crazy mistakes. Feedback and comments greatly appreciated.

Be well!

Read on Ao3

*

The moment you set foot in the office bullpen, you know your initial bad feeling about this meeting is right. Everyone seems to be looking at you with a pained expression; as though they are all sympathetic to some plight that is still unbeknownst to you. You think maybe it’s just the memory loss and your temper flares, making you want to scream and lash out at all of them, down to the typist in the corner.

Then, Van Ness steps into your line of sight and says your name cautiously, looking at you with concern etched on his forehead.

“I’m here to meet with Dixon. She called me.” You grit your words out, willing him to just back off, not wanting him to ask you if you’re ok, knowing that if he does, you’ll start sobbing hysterically in front of all of these people in the middle of the United States DEA bullpen.

“Ah….yeah, well the Ambassador just showed up, she got caught up meeting with him. Shouldn’t take long. She wanted me to keep an eye out for you.” As he spoke, the younger man steered her towards an office and through the doorway. “You can wait in here until she’s finished, probably five, ten minutes.” Too late you realized the office you were being ushered into was Javier’s office. You thought better about throwing a fit and asking to wait somewhere else. If you did, he’d probably inquire as to why and then…well, it was probably best to just sit in your piece of trash husband’s office and wait.

He won’t be in for a while anyway, you think furiously. He’s too “preoccupied”. That thought brought the empty bottom feeling into your stomach again and was quickly replaced with boiling fury and rage at what you had witnessed. Van Ness seemed to sense your anger and quickly retreated, leaving you to pace Javi’s office angrily.

“What a piece of shit!” You growl under your breath and then proceed to call him every foul name you can think of in both English and Spanish. As you do so, you randomly kick furniture, upending a pile of cartons on an armchair and not caring one second about the headache it would cause him to reorganize it. As you pass the bookshelf, you punch a flag statue off a shelf and enjoy the satisfying crunch it made as it lands on the floor. That sound seems to drag more need to destroy. You tear the cushions up from the couch and rip them open, flailing the stuffing out of them, imagining it was your husband’s insides that you were ripping to pieces, as well as that “informant”! You grab a framed medal off the wall behind the couch, smashing the glass over the coffee table and marching over to his desk, ripping the medal out of its cushioned velvet bed and taking the sharp, pointed edge of the bottom of it to the back of his desk chair.

The tearing sound as the material was ripped open fills up the room like a freight train and gives you an extreme sense of satisfaction. You jab the sharp end of your makeshift weapon into the glossy, smooth surface of the desk and grit your teeth as you put all of your anger and weight into cutting a jagged line from one side of the desk to the other, knocking files that were spread out haphazardly on the floor. Your rage completely overtook you and you began to gouge all of the foul names you had previously been calling him into the surface of the desk until your hand began to ache from pressing so hard. The pain only makes you angrier and you fling the medal across the office, knocking a lamp off of the end table. The clatter and sound of the bulb smashing give you some momentary peace, but then the memory of that woman’s hand moving inside his pants resurfaces again, causing you to redouble your efforts and proceed in destroying every visible inch of his office.

How dare he? How...dare...he? How dare YOU, thinking anything less from the man that was your husband. A leopard doesn’t change its spots...what had you been thinking? WHAT could possibly have EVER made you agree to marry such a vile, disgusting slime ball of a man? You had begged him...BEGGED HIM...to fuck you only an hour before you found him in a shkeezy back alley with a cheap whore. Fuck him! If he would rather have his whores than you, then so be it. He could keep them. How long had he still been “working leads” after you’d gotten married? Did everyone outside in that bullpen know? How many of them still tittered over the water cooler about how many times Agent Peña visited the brothels in the city...how many of THEM out there had he fooled around with, too? Why stop at whores? How could he have convinced you so well. Convinced you to marry him, but then, all this time, convinced you to keep begging him, to keep trying to be with him. You had asked...you had asked him to his face if there was someone else. He had denied it and you had believed him. What a fool you’d been. No, there wasn’t someONE else. There was probably NUMEROUS others.

As suddenly as your rage had come upon you, it is just as suddenly replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness; you feel your legs give out and you collapse to the floor amidst the upended furniture, crumpled balls of paper, broken glass and strewn file folders. Staring at the destruction around you for a moment, you feel the knife of betrayal prick your insides and your heart shatters to pieces.

You bury your face in your hands and begin to sob. After several minutes you draw a watery breath, then shake your head. Dixon was going to be out of her meeting any minute. She was going to find you in here sobbing hysterically amidst all of this.

Oh god! You look around at the mess you’ve made in Javi’s office. The sudden thought enters your mind that you’ve just successfully demolished a significant amount of government property. You frantically start collecting crumpled paper and straightening file folders within reach, trying to return the room to some semblance of order as quickly as possible.

As you reach for one particular folder, you catch sight of half a photograph sticking out that seems familiar. Your hand stops in mid-air.

It’s your wedding photo with Javi.

The same one that’s framed in your apartment. Your hand shakes as you reach for the photo, tears starting to stream from your eyes again at the sight of the now familiar photo. You both looked so happy, so in love with each other. What had happened? How could he be such a good liar?

You cry as you clutch the photo to your chest. Your marriage was over. A marriage that you hadn’t even really gotten a chance to be a part of because most of it was lost to the clouds of your missing memory. And though you didn’t want to admit it...as much as you wanted to hate him, you knew that deep down you were mostly sad because you loved Javier. And he had betrayed you. Had lied to you. But you loved him despite that. And now, knowing what you knew, you couldn’t stay married to him.

And that broke your heart.

You heaved another huge sigh and moved to place the photo back where you had found it….

...and paused again.

What was your wedding photo doing in a DEA case file folder?

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Javier didn’t think he had ever driven so fast in his life. Even though he had made a valiant effort at breaking every single driving law in Columbia, it still seemed like an eternity before he braked in front of the DEA building. Today the universe had not been on his side. Despite driving as fast as he could, he seemed to hit nothing but red lights and streets full of bumper to bumper traffic. Crosswalks seemed to be more full than normal with mothers and baby carriages and kids on their way to school. Even when he had tried to take the few shortcuts he knew, he had stalled, running into construction or a blocked roadway where there had once been open passage.

In the end, it had taken him twice as long to get to work then it normally would have. He was furious when he arrived. Furious as himself mostly, but also willing to dole out a fair share to the traffic lights, pedestrians, sidewalk vendors and whoever tried to get in his way before he found out where his partner was.

He was certain she had seen them. He just knew it, deep in his gut. And he knew that he had to find her. To see her. To talk to her. He needed to talk to her before Dixon broke the news to her about her being sent home. He needed to hold her. To tell her….

Would he have the balls to actually tell her what he needed to tell her?

Thinking about that only served to remind him of what a coward he was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her how he really felt. He hadn’t even been able to….SHOW her how he felt. He hadn’t been able to fuck her when she had begged him, when she had willingly offered herself to him on multiple occasions.

He wanted to throw up thinking about it. Thinking about saying those words to her. Thinking about how she was going to be sent home, that by tonight she wouldn’t be in his life anymore, that he was never going to know how it felt to hold her in his arms and whisper those words in her ear, wasn’t going to know how it felt to be inside of her, to know how she sounded and looked when she came undone from pleasure.

Yeah, he was a real fucking coward.

When he stormed into the bullpen, he knew something was wrong. Van Ness and Feistl both stood a short distance from his office, arms folded, heads cocked towards the closed door as though trying to detect any sound. They both had stricken looks on their faces, a mixture of fear and bewilderment, and neither man seemed quite sure what to do with themselves when Javier entered. One look at them and then a look at the closed office door told him that things had already started happening. His heart sank.

“Dixon?” He asked, nodding towards his office. Van Ness started, then stood up straight, shaking his head.

“No. She’s still in a meeting. She wanted me to have her wait in...” Without waiting for any further information, Javi plowed his way past them and wrenched open the door to his office.

He stopped short, eyes widening at the scene in front of him.

It looked like a bomb had exploded in his office. Furniture was upturned, pictures were smashed and hanging askew, file folders were thrown everywhere, the floor was covered in ripped and crumpled paper and...some kind of fluff...what was that? The couch cushions? He saw them ripped to shreds and thrown randomly around the room. Items had been smashed off the bookshelves and lamps were cracked and broken to pieces, leaving large chunks of glass strewn about the floor.

And there she sat in the midst of the chaos.

Her shoulders were hunched over. A file folder was open in her lap and she had clearly been reading several pages of the report found within. Your staged wedding photo was in one hand as she turned the pages of the report with the other. He could only stare at her and at the destruction surrounding her...and then it slowly dawned on him what she was reading.

At almost the exact same moment that he had the realization, she lifted her head from the file and looked up at him.

His heart broke.

Her face was red from crying, tear tracks staining her face, confusion and a thousand questions filling her eyes. Her voice was shaking and wobbly and sounded like a child’s: scared, lost...terrified of the truth.

“Javi?”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 13

[beyscape]

Secrets - 2

Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You hid your pregnancy form your ex-boyfriend, Ransom, and managed to keep your secret hidden for six years. What you didn’t know was, how secrets have a way of revealing themselves.

Word Count: 3564

Warnings: just some swearing

A/N: I really just used this chapter as an excuse to rewatch Knives Out huh

Part 1   Part 2    Part 3

Your “little” secret, the one you had tried your very best to keep hidden, was out. There was no running away now, no amount of lying would save you out of the confrontation that was headed your way. And believe me, you had tried to come up with something, fabricate a lie that would give you enough time to pack up and leave with your little girl. You cursed yourself for believing the bullshit of hiding in plain sight. The only lie you had come up with was maybe tell Ransom you cheated on him, but there was no way he would believe that after you nearly had a full breakdown upon running into him. That, and of course the little matter of Mary looking near identical to Ransom.

  You paced back and forth all around the living room, careful as to not step on any of the toys scattered around. Or the damn Legos. Your eyes drifted towards the clock on the wall, obsessively checking the time every few minutes. Knowing the whole ordeal wouldn’t be okay for a little child to witness, you had remembered to text Ransom to meet some time after ten, when Mary was safely tucked away in her bed. You just prayed he would be able to keep his voice down enough for her to stay that way, but you were that most likely wouldn’t be the case with Ransom. After all, he had a flair for the dramatic. The sound of a car door snapped you out of trance, you ran to open the door before he had a chance to ring the bell.

  Throwing open the door with your heart just about beating in your throat, you saw him. He looked the same more or less, aside from the slight creases you spotted forming on his forehead. He still was the man you once had loved despite everything and everyone. Loved, as in past tense. Because you totally were over him and had been for a while now. You had more important things to consider, a daughter to think of. You were a fool for falling in love with Ransom Drysdale, but those days were gone. You gestured for him to come in, unable to meet his eyes properly.

  He looked around the living room, it was small by his standards of being raised in fortune. His gaze drifting from the toys all around to the pictures on the walls, there were plenty of Mary’s baby photos that Ransom remained focused for a full minute. You exhaled slowly, the bundle of nerves knotting in the pit of your stomach. He finally looked at you. You raised a hand.

“Before we begin this… discussion, Mary’s sleeping upstairs so I’m asking you to keep your voice down.” You sat on the loveseat, motioning for him to take the armchair across you. Ransom’s eyes flicked towards the stairs for a split second. He sat down, not even bothering to take off his coat.

  “I can’t believe you.” The words came out of his mouth slowly, accusingly. Maybe you deserved it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t just say you’re sorry. How could you hide this from me? I get why you hate me and I don’t care but how could you keep my daughter away from me, all these years? What if I hadn’t decided to stop at a random grocery store, then what? Were you ever planning to tell me?” Ransom spitted out, a kind of fire that you never saw before flicked in his eyes. You were too familiar with angry Ransom, but not this one. Not like this.

  “Ransom, I don’t hate you but you have to understand, you’re not exactly cut out to be a father. And we didn’t exactly part on good terms. I wasn’t about to put my child through that.” You felt bad, for not allowing Mary to meet her dad, for not allowing Ransom to bond with his daughter, but at the end f the day you had made a decision. You had made your bed, now might as well lie in it.

  A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t know that.” You noted the slight falter of his voice. “Just because my parents fucked me up doesn’t mean that I would be a bad father. Hell, Y/N, you never even gave me the option.” He shook his head, his disheveled hair swaying along.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

You opened your mouth to apologize again almost instinctively, but stopped. Straining your ears, you recognized the familiar pitter patter of a pair of small feet coming down the stairs. Mary stood on the last step of the stairs; her bunny clutched between her arms. She looked between you and Ransom through her long lashes, yet another thing she inherited from her dad. Ransom shot to his feet.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong? Let’s get you tucked back in.” You rose form where you sat and headed towards the little figure after sending Ransom a warning look. It would have to wait.

 You picked up Mary with no protest on her part, the mop of tangled blonde hair resting against your shoulder as you carried her upstairs. You saw Ransom follow you quietly from the corner of your eye, his thin coat now left discarded on the couch. Entering the small room that matched the state of the living room with the toy situation, you turned on the nightlamp, casting soft purple hues on your faces. Mary was already practically asleep as you gently placed her down, pulling the covers over her small frame. You placed a small kiss on her forehead.

 Ransom watched this whole scene unfold in front of him from the doorway as he leaned on it, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. There was this weird sensation, this warmth in his chest that sent every part of his mind into a confused and slightly panicked state. He had never in a million years thought he would have a child, let alone feel whatever he was feeling towards that child. In a way, he knew you were right. He wasn’t made for being a father, and he originally had no desire of ever staring a family when the one he grew up in was such a hot mess. But now, this child had appeared out of pure luck in his life and he felt a tug towards her. To give her what he never got from his parents.

 If someone had told Ransom the feelings he would have as he watched the woman he loved tuck in their daughter, he would have told them to fuck off. That it wasn’t funny. Indeed, it wasn’t, Ransom couldn’t even make fun of this dumbfounded state he was in.

After you were sure Mary was completely asleep, you got up as slowly as you could to not disturb her. Ransom followed you back to the living room. You took your previous positions, the tense air almost giving you a headache.

 “I’m in.” He spoke after a while, breaking the silence with soft words. His blue eyes rose to yours.

 You shook your head. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

 “I-”

  “No, listen to me,” you cut off, “this isn’t something you just get to decide on a whim. This is an actual human child, who has feelings and all, not some toy that piques your interest. Once you are in you’re in for life. No take backs.” You whisper-shouted, not trusting that Ransom was aware of all the responsibility parenthood brings.

 “You listen to me.” He pointed a finger at you. “It was you who broke up with me, and it was you who couldn’t even be bothered with a call to let me know you were pregnant with our child, Y/N. I fucking know that there are no take backs. But you should have given me the choice of whether I wanted to be a father or not.” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I would have been in from the very start.”

 You leaned back, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Didn’t seem like you cared much about me,  you were seen with that model barely two weeks after we broke up.” You shot back weakly, the hurt feelings of that time washing over you.

 He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Believe it or not, nothing happened with her. It was just a show. I have a reputation, dear Y/N.” A cruel smirk appeared on his face for a quick second before disappearing. “In fact, nothing happened with anyone since you dumped me. Sure, sex here and there but,” he shrugged, “I cared.” Ransom tried his best to act nonchalant, to keep up his image, but couldn’t help the words that slipped out. He was surprised at himself, how easily he was talking about his feelings, but a distant part of him still remembered how simple it was for him to talk to you.

Doubt still lingered in your eyes, finding it hard to believe his words. Ransom always had a way with words. This was the man who never even could bring himself to utter the words ‘I love you’ and yet here he was, talking about how he cared and all. You shook your head.

“Now I know you had my number, you could have called if you cared.”

“Seriously, Y/N?” I’m sorry for honoring your wish of,” he mused, tapping his chin in mock thought, “what was it? Ah yes, never wanting to see my jerk face again.” His lips smiled but his eyes remained cold as ice.

 “Ransom.” You pleaded, the heartbreak from over six years ago felt as if it was just yesterday, you felt your chest tighten. He watched your face intently.

“You wanna know I never called? Or tried to get back together?” He got up, pacing along the room. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not stupid. I always knew you deserved much better than me. It didn’t matter how I felt or whether I missed you or not, I knew you would be better off.” He stopped in front of the biggest picture on the wall. It was a picture taken on Mary’s first birthday, showed her trying to blow off the candles while you held her on your lap, smiles on everyone in the picture. His jaw tightened.

He tilted his head. “Now you know.” He muttered, quiet. Almost… sad.

“Can you, from the bottom of your heart, promise me? That you’ll be here.” The lump formed in your throat made it hard to get the words out, you couldn’t believe this was happening. In the hours you spent pacing and imagining how the conversation would go, this turn of events was the last thing you thought was possible. You thought you knew Ransom, you probably knew him the best, but you couldn’t recognize the man standing just a few feet in front of you, his eyes still fixed on the frame.

“I know I was a dick and hell, I still am. But,” he finally looked at you, “I promise. I promise to be here and do my damn best for Mary… and for you.” His voice trembled ever so slightly, never could you remember seeing Ransom like this. Not once in those two years you knew him. You stood up; shoulders slumped and tears prickling your eyes, threating to spill at any moment. You stopped barely a step before him.

Neither of you dared to move as you stared into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation taking place and making up for the lost years. You never realized how much you had missed him. You reached up to stroke his face, your fingers aching to touch him, to feel him. Your fingertips glided over his clean-shaven jaw; Ransom closed his eyes at your touch. You gulped, dropping your hand to rest on his chest, not daring to do more. His hand came to rest above yours, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

“I’m here, Y/N. I swear.” His words heavy on his whispering lips, he gently tilted your face to meet your eyes. He chuckled softly upon seeing the tears welling up in your eyes. “Why the tears?”

“Shut up.” You sniffled. “I… I wanted to tell you Ransom. But I wasn’t sure if— if you’d want this. Or if you would end up hating me more. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could handle that.”

“I understand.”

“And with your family too, even the thought of dealing with them just gives me a headache. Though I guess it’s unavoidable now.”

He groaned, a deep sound of annoyance from the back of his throat. “Those people can eat shit, they’re not coming remotely close to Mary.”

“Your mom wouldn’t be happy if you didn’t tell her. Or Harlan.” You mused; he knew you were right. He still hated the thought.

“Let’s not think about them right now.” You were suddenly too aware of the closeness, of the placement of his hands, the familiar touch sending tingles down your spine.

“Yeah? What should we think of then?”

He just gave you a look before leaning in and kissing you. Maybe thousands of times he had kissed you before, you would think you would be used to it by now, yet it felt so new, so unfamiliar due to the time apart. Your heart leapt out of your chest, beating wildly, your whole body cursing you for not reaching out sooner. The feelings you had done your best to tame snapped out of their cages at that moment, never to be trapped again. You deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I missed you, angel.” He pulled back; his words barely audible.

“We have a lot to talk about, Ransom.” You met his gaze, reluctant. You lead him by the hand towards the loveseat. You both sat, holding each other close, not ready to let go yet.

“First, there is the matter of introducing you to Mary. Properly, I mean.” You sighed.

“Has she ever asked about me?”

You bit your lip at the memory. “Once. A couple of months ago, we were watching some Disney movie when she asked me why she didn’t have dad. I just told her you were away. She never asked again.” You remembered the shake of your hands when Mary asked you that question, looking at you with wide blue eyes. You remembered the whirl of your mind as you quickly tried to figure out what to say. You remembered sobbing quietly into your pillow when Mary was finally asleep that night.

You looked at Ransom. “It was so, so hard.”

“If you had only told me.”

“I know.” Your eyes fell on one of the dolls laying on the floor. “Should we talk to a therapist?”

Ransom scoffed. You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m just wondering out loud. No need for the attitude.”

“I should just meet her. I don’t know, play with her. I wanna get to know her, Y/N.”

“She’s a great kid. She’s… a lot like you, and not just the looks. Wicked smart, and has the sweetest heart. Her current favorite animal is bunnies, she is very excited to start school next semester and she will talk about that for hours.” You laughed. “She hates carrots, and is allergic to strawberries. You can pretty much bribe her to do anything with chocolate chip cookies. You’ll love her.”

“I already love her. She’s my kid.” A genuine grin spread on his handsome face.

You talked for hours on that couch, with mostly you doing the talking. Ransom wanted to know everything he could, from her first words to her entire list of likes and disliked. Your heart swelled at his interest and the way he kept asking you questions.

It was a little after the clock struck one and a million yawns from you, Ransom got up.

“You should sleep.” He grabbed his coat.

“Would you… like to stay over?” You pressed your lips together.

Ransom smirked. “Day one and you’re already trying to get me into your bed? Wow, Y/N.”

“Not like that,” you huffed, “we don’t have a guestroom but the couch’s pretty comfortable.”

He flashed you a smile. “Where are the sheets?”

------------

 After a night filled with tossing and turning brought by the fact that Ransom freaking Drysdale was sleeping on your couch downstairs, you opened your eyes to the sun filtering through your window. It wasn’t the sun, however, that woke you from your dreamless sleep, it was the smell. You followed it down and into the kitchen, confused, and came to a halt at the scene in front of you.

 The cabinets were open, and the sweet smell was stronger, but the strangest thing bay far was how Ransom was standing in front of the stove.

“Are you cooking?” You rubbed your eyes, making sure you weren’t still asleep.

“Pancakes,” he showed you the box, “you said it’s Mary’s favourite breakfast.” Ransom flashed you a smile. “Cute PJs.”

“How come I never once saw you cook before? Fatherhood really changes a man.” He chuckled as he flipped the pancake. You could get used to this. Ransom turned to you to say something before his attention turned to a spot behind you, eyes slightly wide. You turned to look, and saw Mary to no surprise.

The little girl focused on Ransom, striding towards him with determination.

“Are you my dad?” She looked up to him, her words sending Ransom into a coughing fit.

“What? Mary, honey, what makes you say that?” You gulped, rushing to her side before kneeling down.

“He looks like me.” She shrugged at you and turned back to Ransom. “Are you?” her eyebrows raised; she crossed her arms. Ransom kneeled as well; every move uncertain. Nervous. He looked at you. You gave him a slight nod, might as well tell her.

“Yes.” He nodded. Mary squinted her eyes at him, before nodding back. Her serious face broke into a smile before she leapt forward, her small arms tightening around Ransom’s neck. He swayed back at the surprising force, his wide eyes snapping to yours. After a moment of shock, he hesitantly hugged her back, his hands ever so gentle on her back. Pulling yourself up, you moved towards the window, not wanting for either of them to see the tears in your eyes.

Six years, you had secretly let yourself imagine this exact moment. In those rare instances you allowed your mind to wander over the possible scenarios, one question would repeat in your mind. How would Mary react? Would she be distant, angry? Would she cry? Be disappointed? Hate you for not telling her sooner? Would she even want to meet her dad? You would agonize over these unanswered questions time and time, the whole thing feeling too far away sometimes. Yet here it was, right in front of you, all of your questions answered. The smell of burning snapped you out of the moment.

“Shi—shoot.” Ransom pulled back, mad at the pancake for breaking the moment. Mary gasped.

“Pancakes! I’ll go get Mr. Chuckles!” She darted out, leaving a bewildered Ransom behind. He turned to you.

“That went better than I thought.” He shook his head, swallowing, he was slightly ashamed of the tears in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice quiet, your smile small.

Mary was back in a second, excitedly babbling about how much she loved pancakes and how waffles were a close second. Ransom flashed her a smile, his eyes twinkling with pride. You grabbed plates and set the table, stealing glances at Mary’s happy face and the identical look on Ransom’s. Your family.

“But daddy,” she turned to Ransom, whose heart skipped a beat at the word, “where were you?”

Your mouth fell open. “Honey—”

“I was away.” Ransom cut you. “But I’m here now, princess. And I swear I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned at his gentle but reassuring words, satisfied.

“Okay. Oh! You have to meet my toys!” She rose up, ready to take him up to her room and make sure he memories all the names of her toys.

“How about you finish your breakfast first?” You motioned at the untouched stack of pancakes sitting in front of her.

Rest of the breakfast was filled with Mary talking to Ransom between bites of pancakes, asking him a ton of questions and grinning. Ransom’s gaze never faltered away, he listened to all of her ramblings and answered every question. You watched the two of them, unsure whether to be amazed at Mary’s excitement or this shift in Ransom’s character. Where was the man who drove you up the walls? Where was the cocky, selfish jerk everyone knew him to be? He turned his gaze to you upon feeling you stare, winking you before turning back to your daughter.

All the baggage, all the worry you carried within you melted away, leaving no trace behind. For the first time in six years, you felt yourself completely relax.

--------------------------------------------------

Sorry for any mistakes, I was super excited to post this so I might have missed some stuff. A thrid part might come if you guys are interested 👀

SECRETS TAGLIST @helenaeisenhower​ @the-best-third-wheel-ever​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @buckyshattergirl​ @lover1307​ @selluequestrian​ @run-through-wa11s @monotoneaudio​ @cap-just-said-language​

CHRIS EVANS TAGLIST @marvelouspottering​ @kelbabyblue​

[the-lady-writes-what]

Training Secession

Summary:

You finally get your boyfriend Shouta Aizawa all to yourself. What else were you supposed to do today besides teasing him relentlessly?

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhed x Reader

Contents: teasing, finger fucking, slight BDSM, restraint without handcuffs/rope, spanking. Mild fluff

It wasn’t often that you got Shouta all to yourself. Between teaching and working as a pro-hero, you saw little of your boyfriend. It didn’t help matters that you also worked as a pro from time to time, but your quirk wasn’t nearly useful or impressive. Shouta never pointed out the noticeable difference in your power levels. You admitted that he took things too seriously sometimes, and you wished he’d lighten up, even just a little. Still, waking up next to him was the best thing in the world as far as you were concerned. It was pure bliss to be able to wake up next to him.

You glanced at the clock. It wasn’t early in the morning. However, you wondered if you should let him sleep a bit more. When you peeled your eyes open, you saw his hair tousled around his pillow.

You sat up a little to get a better view. Shouta slept like a rock, unable to hear giggling at his snoring. You took a lock of his hair and twirled it around your finger. Surprisingly, and despite rumors, he took care of it. Of course, you insisted that he use your conditioner and it worked wonders. It was much nicer to run your fingers through while you two were fooling around in bed.

You checked to make sure he was still sleeping. Shouta snored like a fat cat. His hair slipped through your fingers as you laid down again. You were rarely the big spoon, so you liked being able to hug him, even if your arms weren’t nearly big enough to wrap around him properly. You gave him a good squeeze. Shouta shifted, and you stilled your movements. But then, you had a naughty idea.

You brought your hands to his shoulders. You kneaded his shoulder blades with your palms until you heard him groan.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“About nine,” you answered.

You continued to knead the muscles in his back and shoulders. You stopped for a minute just to see what he would do. You smiled cheekily when he turned with that grumpy look on his face.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“Okay, Mister Grumpy Gills. But you’re going to have to get on your stomach.”

Shouta rolled over at your request. You straddled his hips and sat on his lower back while you massaged his shoulders. There were kinks galore that the man never bothered to get rubbed out. He worked himself to death and didn’t think about himself. On the one hand, it was a quality you could admire. On the other hand, it made the relationship much harder for you since your boyfriend didn’t like to take of himself. Which meant you could spoil him whenever you wanted.

“Goddammit, Shouta. You’ve got kinks in your kinks. What the hell are you doing all day?”

He only groaned into the pillow. You continued working at the knots the best you could. Truth be told, you had no idea what you’re doing. Let’s be honest, you did it mostly because you wanted to feel up those muscles. The first time you saw Shouta undressed, your jaw dropped to the floor. Beneath his dark hero’s costume and capture weapon, you had no idea about the heat your man was packing underneath all that. Every time you could get him to take off his shirt was extra time to get your hands on him and his muscles.

Whether or not he knew about your fascination with his well-built form, Shouta didn’t shame you for it. Hey, if he got a free massage out of it too, you could put your hands on him any time you wanted.

“Those kids are going to kill you one of these days, right? Maybe not in a villain attack, but just stressing you out.”

“You have no idea.”

Shouta let you go on for a few more minutes. He rolled over much to your disappointment. With you still straddling him, Shouta lifted the both of you off the bed. He secured your legs around his waist and made sure that your arms were wrapped firmly around his neck. He kissed you. For a second, you thought he was going to toss you back into bed or slam you into the nearest wall. You were mildly disappointed that he took you into the kitchen. Putting you down, your hands lingered on him as you ran your hands down his arms.

“Ah, Shouta,” you whined. You pouted.

Shouta put an end to that real quick with a kiss and pushed you against the fridge. His tongue distracted you long enough for his teeth to catch your bottom lip. Shouta gave a little tug, not much, and never to hurt you. When you left you against the fridge, you were panting. Shouta turned on the oven and started heating some eggs. He gave you a sideways glance that said more than words could ever hope to. If you pressed your luck, you’d find yourself bent over the kitchen counter again.

You didn’t pout as you helped him with breakfast. Mornings with Shouta were rare but full of moments that showed him the side you often see in him while you were out in public. He was still reserved and no-sense, but when it was just the two of you together, he could be sweeter. If his class ever saw him in the matching couple’s pajamas you bought for each other last Christmas, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. As much as you wanted him, being able to make breakfast and sit at the same table was the perfect way to start today.

However, it was hard for you to keep your hands to yourself. Shouta knew about your slight kink for feeling up his muscles or his body in general. You were one of the few people who got to see it. You felt privileged. So when your hand wandered down his back and took up position on his ass, you couldn’t help but give a little squeeze. Naturally, he did the same thing to you. His hand was much bigger than yours, and even his hands were stronger. When he grabbed something of yours, he made sure you’d feel it hours after his hands left you. He firmly grasped your cheek with twice as much power as you’d done to him.

“I can give as good I get, little lady. Don’t tempt me,” said Shouta next to your ear.

You grew red in the face, but you liked it. If you heard anyone calling your Shouta a submissive, you could show them the bruises on your ass to confirm the contrary.

Even on vacation days, Shouta didn’t rest for a minute. He hung around you until after lunch before he excused himself. He was going to work out for a while. You huffed at the man’s persistence on working even while on holiday. You didn’t feel like walking to the other side of the house where you knew Shouta would be working out. Despite your more powerful instinct to follow and watch him build up a sweat that glistened on his skin, you prowled through your small library of books on the shelf. Guests could tell which books belonged to whom. Shouta owned a few works of fiction, but he was mostly interested in more practical knowledge. Your shelves were dedicated to romance and some cleverly hidden erotica. What? You were an adult, and so was Shouta and all your friends. You had nothing to be ashamed about. Out of boredom, you picked a random novel and took it with you back to the couch. You vaguely remember the plot, so you skip ahead to the sexy bits.

About a couple chapters in and you were rubbing your thighs together. It grew harder for you to finish reading even a passage knowing that Shouta was somewhere down the hall working out.

"'His lips caressed her moistened lips. He nestled between her legs and kissed each thigh before returning to her core. She trembled as he kissed her there, lashing his tongue against her swollen clit. Her back arched upwards. She felt his bruising hands grasp her hips to keep her from moving away. His greedy mouth tasted the dew and suckled at its source. His tongue laved the outside of her walls, testing her waters, so to speak.

“M-Milord…” The serving maid blushed like a rose. Her petals began to weep as she felt his tongue dive into the most secret part of her.'"

You toss the book aside. Quite literally. You don’t see where it lands as you’re preoccupied with the heat between your legs. You leave the living room and go off to find Shouta. Sure enough, you saw him in the midst of his push-ups. You didn’t dare disturb his counting but stood in the doorway. You licked your lips and gnawed a bit at them. You watched the sweat trickle over his skin, still unaware of your presence. For now.

He looked good with his hair pulled back. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t ask questions. Shouta eventually caught onto your peeping Tom behavior, though he said nothing. You couldn’t tell for sure, but you’d swear up and down that a smirk tugged at his lips. You had to take a seat on the floor before you dripped.

At one point, Shouta stopped to look at you. He almost sneered at the playful look on your face. He probably suspected that you had something dastardly planned. You pretended not to have an evil thought in your brain, all the while wanting nothing more than to tackle him and ride his cock till kingdom come. Pun very much intended.

“Come here. If you’re going to stare, you might as well do something useful with your day.”

The scenario played out in your head. You’d get him riled up to the point where Shouta would have no other choice than to pin you on the mat and have his way with you. It was unfortunate that wasn’t the game he was playing today. Shouta never gave you the chance to tease him. He was much more interested in kicking your ass in a few sparring rounds. Being built stronger and having more experience than you in the field, it was all but natural that he had you panting for breath for all the wrong reasons. You figured this out too late when he had you smooshed against the mat, face first, and your arms pinned against your back. Other than his hands on your wrists, he wasn’t touching you in the way you wanted him to. Now you were horny and cranky.

“Is that all you got?”

You couldn’t stand that smug look on his face right now. You immediately kicked up your legs and threw yourself back. Shouta didn’t plan for you to be so reckless and fell with you. You climbed on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head.

“How you like it, huh?” You mimicked his smirk.

Shouta had you pinned on your back in no time at all. His hair came loose from the elastic band holding it together, blocking your view of anything else but him. Being stronger than you, moving your hands out of his grasp was easier said than done. Before you could kick him, Shouta shoved his knee between your legs. At this point, you were sensitive enough that his knee against your core was enough to make you moan.

“You’ve been needy all day,” said Shouta.

“Maybe I am? So what? What ‘cha gonna do about it?”

You teased him with a kitten lick on his nose of all places. In your defense, that was the only place you could reach.

Shouta tensed for a moment. He took his time deciding what to do with you. The moment he did, you knew you were in for it. Shouta released your hands, but not for long. He stood up and admired you briefly as he stood over you. You wore sweatpants and a tank top, no bra. Your top was thin enough to see your nipples peeking through. You couldn’t stop the shudder rolling through you as you watched him lick his lips. You tried to get up on your own only for Shouta’s hands to find your waist, throw you unto his shoulder, and carry you like that. His hand held you tight.

“S-Shouta!” You laughed and playfully kicked him in the ribs. Only playful, you didn’t mean any harm.

All your play-fighting did was rouse him more. His free hand swatted you on the back of your thighs, stopping you from further fake protesting. He dragged you back the bedroom like a caveman—minus the hairpulling cliché—and you loved every second of it. The world spun for a second after he dumped you on the bed. He let you sit up long enough to get rid of your useless top. Once it was gone, you were on your back and lifting your hips so he could take off your pants too. You smirked when he found your little surprise. Shouta’s eyes widened.

“You…didn’t put on underwear today?”

“What of it?” Your smugness vanished when he crammed two fingers at once inside you.

“Is that you’ve been teasing me all morning? You wanted to show me how much you wanted it?”

His fingers plunged inside you fast and hard. His other hand gathered both your wrists and pinned them above your head on the pillow. Shouta was a through man; you could count on him to get the job done. You should have known better than to tempt him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. Only you got to see the kind of face he was making while finger fucking you.

“S-Shouta!” You shivered around his fingers. Shifting your weight didn’t help either. He just caged your legs so you couldn’t move.

“Mmm?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be teased. I told you earlier, I give as good as I get.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what? Give me a good reason to let you come.”

“I’ll. I’ll do anything, please! I need you…I need you so bad right now.”

He curled his fingers inside you and sped up. You thrashed around, but the moment your eyes found Shouta’s, you became very, very still. His face hovered above yours as he watched your every move. Your juices sloshed around as he pumped wildly. Your backed arched off the bed as you came around him. Once you came down from your high, Shouta wiped your forehead. However, if you thought you were done, you couldn’t get more wrong. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled your head back.

“Open,” he said, upholding the fingers that just finished you.

You obediently opened your mouth and suckled on him, tasting yourself. Shouta pumped his fingers deep inside until he reached your gag reflex. He pulled them out quickly, leaving behind a string of your saliva in their wake. His tongue tentatively lapped at his fingers.

“Do you want more?” His gaze never broke away from yours.

You glanced at his hand, which thumbed the hem of his sweatpants. Looking back up at your boyfriend, you nodded.

“Greedy girl.” Shouta took off his tank top that had his sweat running down the front by this point. He tossed it over his shoulder and chucked off his sweatpants.

You hadn’t been able to notice before because your view had otherwise been blocked. Shouta sported a monster of an erection, and it was all for you. You were still seeping wet when you plugged you up. Shouta pulled you onto your side. He wrapped your legs around his hip and trapped your hands above your head once more.

“Would…you…say you’ve been…a good girl today?” Shouta asked while drilling you.

You didn’t have a thought in your brain. This angle made you dizzy, too dizzy to think of anything other than Shouta’s cock. You couldn’t form syllables if you tried.

“I think …you’ve been rotten. Do you think…a bad girl like you…deserves my cock?”

Shouta was nestled deep inside you. This was your favorite position for a reason, and he was using it against you.

“P-please, Shouta! Don’t stop!”

“And why shouldn’t I?” He pulled almost all the way out. “You’ve been a fucking tease since we woke up this morning. Didn’t think I’d noticed how you kept getting your hands all over me?”

Shouta thrust a few more times, then stopped again. “Have you anything to say? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself right now?” He went back to pounding you. “All you…had to do…was beg for it. Instead, you tease me…walking around without panties. Trying to…get my attention like the fucking cock-hungry, needy girl…you are.”

He flipped you onto your stomach. Your hands were against your back. Unable to resist him, your legs were shoved open wider for him to inspect your sopping cunt. You screamed into the mattress when you felt the first swat of his hand on your ass. You were stone-cold sober after four more. Tears bubbled in your eyes.

“Shouta!”

He was inside you again. His pounding was more furious than before. Your ears were filled with the sound of wet skin slapping against skin and his grunting. His hands left your wrists in favor of groping your breasts. His sweat drenched your back, and you felt his hot breath in your ear. Shouta ground his hips into yours.

“Fucking tease. Tell me…tell me when you want to be fucked, so I don’t have to punish you. Unless you like this shit?” He tweaked your nipples.

You screamed. You could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

“Such a needy girl,” said Shouta. He straightened up.

He let your arms fall where they may. Your hands tightened around the sheets, clenching and unclenching, depending on how hard Shouta gave it to you. His grip moved back to your hips, where you were firmly rutted against him.

“Don’t you dare cum before I do. That’s your punishment.” He growled before smacking your thigh.

He was asking something almost impossible for you. You wracked your brain for anything to keep your mind off of orgasming right then and there. Shouta never moved with reckless abandon; he loved to be lost in you. His movements were always precise, calculated, and sure to drive you up the wall. His cock was reaching deep within you to the point where you lost all sense. You could feel nothing but him moving inside you, driving in and out.

“Stop clenching if you don’t want to come before I do.” He smacked your ass this time. “Next time, I’ll slap your needy cunt since you enjoy punishment that much.”

You took his threat seriously. You tried to think of anything to break you out of the moment, for now, to stave off coming. Frog legs. Midnight’s cooking. Paperwork….

Suddenly, a warmth washed over you. Shouta’s hands flexed on your hips. He grunted as he unleashed himself. You screamed and clenched around him. His cum filled you deep inside. You couldn’t stop crying as he filled you up. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You two remained in that position for some time. When Shouta finally pulled out, you groaned aloud. The absence of him left you wanting more, and you felt hollow inside. Shouta tried not to smother you with his weight. He moved onto his side and did the same to you so that he could look you in the eye. You had your eyes closed so you could only feel his hands moving your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You meekly nodded your head. Shouta didn’t mention the fact that you technically disobeyed him by finishing at the same time. He kissed your forehead nevertheless.

“I’m going to draw us a bath. You sit tight, okay?”

Again, you nodded. Shouta left you in that blissed-out state. From across the hall, you could hear the water running. You smiled to yourself; you should wear panties less often.

If you’d like to see more content like this, please consider going to my AO3 here

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ JUST ONE NIGHT ❜

Part III

with Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz.

Warnings: angst af, not sorry.

Word count: 2k

Chapter Index.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @fromthesixteenthfloor

Masterlist.

Maybe you should have accepted the invitation from Mardi, your best friend, staying at Santo Padre instead of occupying your parent's house in San Diego. But the pain was too strong to stay there, with the risk of finding Coco walking through the streets or driving his motorbike. You haven't known anything about him for the past five days, and if you've been about to call him hundreds of times, fortunately you haven't. The one who has tried to put in contact with you has been Bishop. He has called for the last two days. But, what would have solved answering the call? Probably nothing. So you just let your phone ring, having a sip from the last bottle of tequila left.

Alcohol isn't the solution, but it's enough to hush your demons, alleviate the pain and make you sleep. So you have been drowned in a bucle of drinking the mexican drink for excellence the whole day, until your body asks you to stop and the hangover hits your head with painful lashes. Since you met him, you have been dreaming about a life together, about trips, about days at home doing nothing, about helping him every time he feels down. About whatever. But he was right. You knew about club shit when you started dating. What you weren't expecting was the kind of things he told you last time you were together. You don't need Coco to be on you the whole time, but if you read your text messages, every twenty yours there's one from him just sayin ‘yeah’ and ‘no’. That's all.

He wasn't busy with his own business to see what he was doing, and you were living it. You were sleeping alone, not knowing anything about his situation. You were passing the days alone, waiting for anything, with the anxiety and the sadness oppressing anatomy, squeezing your heart without mercy. But you loved him. You kept trying to hold him, to save him somehow, until you understood that there's no salvation for someone who doesn't want to be saved.

Cleaning a wild tear, you step out from the sofa, grabbing your house keys and your credit card to get out from it. You truly look like a mess, wearing a pair of long grey sweatpant, a white long shirt and some sneakers. Your hair is tied in an undone bump, no makeup in your face, but two black marks under your eyes. Almost dragging your feet on the ground, you lead your steps to the nearest shop to buy more tequila and maybe something to eat, because you have forgotten when was the last time you had a decent meal.

“Do you know what you're gonna tell her?” Angel drives by his side and behind Bishop, Tranq and Taza, highing his voice over the engine's buzz.

“No!” He just utters under the black bandana.

It only took Miguel five minutes to find you, after checking that you didn't cross the border to Tijuana and that your parent's house in San Diego was having in use the electric and water suministers. Packer sent someone to assure that you were really there, before giving Bishop the green light. Coco has never been more nervous than today, about to reach the place, trying to not think in a speech. He wants to tell you what he really feels from heart, without planning absolutely nothing. He wants to be sincere with you and finally break down the walls around him to let you come in. The last days have been an odyssey for him, being controlled every single second by the crew to not do any crazy shit, after hearing him asking to let him die. And, of course, it's going to be worse in case you declined the idea of coming back to Santo Padre with him, giving Coco a second chance. That's what it hurts the most, the fact that he believes you're not going to open him the door or, if you do, it's going to ask him to go to hell.

Reaching the white house with a blue rooftop, the Mayans park their bikes next to the sidewalk, under the attentive, confused and scared gazes from your neighbors. Getting up from them and taking off the helmets, to leave them over the seats, Angel palms his back trying to cheer him up and give him the strength and the motivation he needs to begin walking through the paved road breaking the garden in two sides. Brushing his hair back, followed by his brothers, he takes a long breath before calling the doorbell. One time, two times… Eight times. Coco understands that you don't want to see him, huffing resigned, but when he's about to turn around and leave the porch, Angel forces him to keep trying.

“Mami… It's me, Coco”. He says biting his bottom lip and licking his incisors. No answer. “Listen, I just… 'am sorre' 'bout all the shit I made. 'Bout pushing you away, 'bout talking you with those… fuckin' manners and 'bout forgetting the most special day of my life. 'Am so fuckin' sorry”.

Nothing. Not a single sound by the other side of the door.

“Keep trying, Coco”. Gilly whispers narrowing his left shoulder.

“Yo, ah… 'am fuckin' sorre'... I know you deserve better. I know you deserve someone who lives for you, for makin' you happy, for takin' care of you, and I know I didn'. And maybe it's too late to regret but… I will keep the promise of changin', of being a better man for you. The one you deserve. Just… fuck, please… Give me a second chance”. His voice breaks as he talks, feeling the tears piling up in his eyes because he doesn't have any answer from you. “Lis—Listen. Prez gave me some time out an—”.

“Yes, I did, kid”. Bishop interrupts him for a second, trying to be helpful.

“And you know… You have told me a lot of times that… you wou—would like to go to Disney and… I was thinken' about… goin'. Together. Onle' you and me, (Y/N). We can go on my bike, or… or in your car, or… use mine… I don' care, I don' give a shit, I will carry you from Cali to Orlando walking if you ask me for”.

Coco is about to cry from one time to another, feeling Angel gently caressing his back. He, better than anyone, knows how much he loves you and how much he cares about you. And maybe his friends didn't do the correct thing with you, but he's badly trying to fix up things between you two.

“Do you… Do you know that if yo—you shout ‘Andy is comen'’ all those… idiots from Toy Story have to fall down? Jus—Just imagine us sitting on a bench… screaming it the whole time, or… following them around the park…”

The guys can't help but chuckle, because they know you two are really capable of spending a day like that. Like two children.

“And you can… put me one of these... fuckin' Mickey's ears. I promise I won't complain”. He sighs bowing his head down, with a disgusting pain getting installed inside his throat. “And… there are a lot… of things about Marvel too… and shows and… a lot of things”.

Coco is breaking into pieces being ignored by you, starting to cry like a hurt kid. He's aware he has lost the best person he could find on earth. His soulmate. His best friend. He knows that it's only his fault. He can't blame his family, nor the club. Because it was enough to sleep with you at home, instead of staying at the scrapping. It was enough texting you one time a day.

“Fu—Fuck, mami, 'am realle' sorre'... You don' have to say something now… but, I don' know… maybe in some days. Now 'am feelin' what you felt and… it's a damn shit… 'am fuckin' sorre', I swear. I never meant to… you through this”. Hardly sniffing and barely breathing, he cleans the tears running down his face. “I will… stay around, in a hotel… if you wanna call me, or… maybe see me to talk alone… I don' know… whatever you want… Or, if you want me to go… ju—just tell me and I will… leave you in peace”.

“Let's go, Coco…”Taza says, placing a hand on his nape.

“No, no… What if I ju—just wait here, till she opens me the door?”

“It's better if you give her some time to think about it”. Bishop shakes his head for a second.

“Yeah, but… what if I ju—I just stay here? Maybe she… doesn't want to talk 'bout us because you're here”. He insists, but Angel is not going to let him do that, surrounding his shoulders with an arm.

“She will call you, hermano. You will see, ah? Seein' you on Mickey's ears worth it.” The oldest Reyes says then, turning around to come back to their bikes.

You are there. Standing up in silence at the beginning of the garden. You have been there the whole time, listening every word Coco said. His wide eyes are fixed on yours, holding a box of Don Julio between your arms, and a big cardboard bag full of doughnuts of different flavors hanging from your closed teeth. Angel pushes him with both palms on his back, forcing his brother to walk towards you. Spitting the bag over the box of tequila, EZ comes closer to grab them and free your hands, before throwing your keys to his old brother.

“The kitchen is at the end of the hallway”. You just say, waiting for them to come in.

“(Y/N), 'am so—”.

“I heard everything you said”. Interrupting him, you close both arms over your chest, wrinkling your nose. Trying to process everything. “The night of our anniversary, I was about to ask you to marry me. One day I went to the clubhouse and heard you talking with Angel, because you were scared of me thinking you were crazy for proposing. So, I was about to do it”.

“I wan'et. I wanna marry you and… being together all my life”.

“You fucked me up badly, Johnny. Really fucking bad”.

“I know, I know… But, please. Gimme a last chance, ain't fuck it up again. And I know you don' believe me, I get it, I earned that shit, but I will show you every day, mami. No more nights out of our home. No more days without calling or texting you, I will do it every hour. And I will not… talk to you again like a fuckin' shit”. He looks and sounds sincere, with his reddened eyes begging you. And you're conscious that Coco is as destroyed inside as you are. “Please…”

Heavily sighing and rubbing your forehead, you lean forward to kiss his cheek, before surrounding him with both arms to hug him tightly.

“I fuckin' love you, (Y/N)”. He cries now, collapsing under your grip without can't avoid it.

“I know, Coquito”. You whisper caressing his messy hair, pushing him closer.

Feeling him again is like coming back to life, kissing once and once his face and trying to clean his tears, breaking you a little watching him like that. Clinging his hands in your thighs, he urges you to wrap his waist with both legs.

“And of course I want to marry you, shithead”. You say, making him chuckle between tears, sinking his face into your neck.

“I love you more than anythen', I swear to God. And I will… make you happy as you deserve”.

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[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XVI

Choices: Open Heart; Part 1-15 in bio.

Rating: M, implied sex, swearing

Song: My Own - Whitaker

Word Count: 3380

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @choicesficwriterscreations @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @bubblelaureno @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Sixteen: Scarred

Suki didn’t need to hear any more. There was no explaining away this one. She’d asked the question and his answer was simple. So I am just a body to you? Yes.

Her gaze fell to the floor and her feet felt cemented there even though all she wanted to do was run away. She kept trying and trying but they wouldn’t budge. Noise was all one big long beep fizzling around her ears and her vision was a big blurry mess, despite the tears clinging on for dear life at the bottom of her lashes.

But she didn’t need to move. Bryce already had. She saw as the blurred shapes of his legs removed themselves from her peripheral and she could picture each step in her mind, each one another stab to her chest.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, swaying in the growing dark, the tears still gripping on obstinately to her lash line.

And it seemed she made it home on autopilot, because the next thing she knew she was unlocking her front door and gliding through to her bedroom. If anyone was around in the communal areas, she wouldn’t have been able to tell because nothing was registering.

She also seemed to manage to undress and slide into pyjamas in smooth movements, eyes barely blinking and mouth set slightly parted. She hadn’t bothered to turn the light on, just a small window of grey sky illuminating the room ever so slightly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying not to think too much about the time Bryce had done this for her. She didn’t even look in the mirror as she did so.

It wasn’t until Suki cradled herself into bed and laid to one side, the space Bryce often occupied empty in front of her, that she finally began to cry.

She felt out to the space, the smooth cotton kind of stinging beneath her still-cold hands, like that would somehow let him know she was thinking of him. That she was sorry. Sorry that she went and fucked up and caught feelings. Sorry that she acted on impulse. The empty space never usually felt like a problem, probably because she knew it would be occupied at some point or another. And now it wouldn’t be. She slowly turned her hand over, looking at her scars in the dim light. And she just cried more. Because it was a reminder of Bryce seared into her skin forever. The puckered skin a neat example of Bryce’s careful and thoughtful stitches. The red disappearing scabs a beacon of how she’d messed it all up.

His stitches hadn’t scarred just her hand, but her heart, too.

She wasn’t even meant to feel anything for him, but mistakes were made. She wasn’t even sure she ever felt like it was a good idea, even from the start, just that she wanted him. She had been helpless to stop the unforgiving want.

But as she grew to want him in the other way, he’d stayed the same.

This was nothing like the time Bryce had been funny about the surgery, or when she’d been worried about what she’d heard him say to Ben. This was different. This was real and definite and final. No chance of miscommunication. She’d worried—knew to some extent—that how she felt was one sided, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

She was embarrassed. Because even if she’d been right about him not feeling the same, she’d still believed he at least cared for her as a friend. Just like the rest of the group. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

There was definitely a sense of frustration that he’d been pissed at her for lying, but in admitting that she was only a fuck to him and not a friend, he’d revealed he’d been lying since she asked him about it.

Her throat hurt as she tried to cry silently. She couldn’t believe how badly everything had got fucked up. She found herself wishing that the space next to her was occupied. She didn’t even want the sex. She wanted the intimacy. Just Bryce next to her. His stupid fucking grin and his eyes like chasms she’d trip and fall down with just a word—just the thought of hearing her name on his lips triggered a chorus of ‘Why, Suki?’ and she was in even more desperate tears. No ‘Sukes’, no ‘Santa Fe’, and her full name normally sounded like heaven—but.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wallowing. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep until she woke up with the sore, crusty eyes and a wet pillow. Pathetic. He wasn’t even anything to me. I hate that I made myself feel this way.

—-

The next few days were a big blend of work, coming home to stare at a wall, and eventually needing to eat.

This shouldn’t have fucked her up as much as it was, but it had. She’d lost a friend above anything else. Or, who she thought was a friend.

And she wished that maybe this had happened sooner, before she got too sucked in. But then she realised. She’d always been screwed. The entire time.

She hadn’t even considered previously that they’d had an emotional bond before they even had a good chance at being only fuck buddies. When they’d kissed in the supply closet all those months ago, it was sealed. Her tears had been drying on her cheeks as he’d kissed her desperately, tasting them and consuming her misery. For her, anyway. She should’ve read the signs, let herself stay away from the inevitable heartbreak.

And yes, Suki got sick. So she was sick and heartbroken all at once. She had to take a couple of days off, and all she did was hole up in her room and pop out occasionally to cook up a meal from the freezer. Thank god she was always prepared.

One day she was unfortunate enough to enter the kitchen while Jackie was already there, eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hey,” she smiled, she knew Suki was sick so Suki assumed that was what the sympathetic look on her face was about.

“Hi,” Suki replied meekly, before pulling out some cold pizza from the fridge and digging in to a slice.

“Aren’t those sweatpants a bit big for you?” Jackie asked. Suki forgot she’d been living in Bryce’s hoodie and sweatpants she’d stolen at Christmas. She was currently in an old t shirt of her own and said sweatpants which definitely were a tad big.

“No,” Suki groaned through her mouthful of pizza.

“Okay, what is up? Any time you’re at the apartment you’ve been moping and barely taking care of yourself, you haven’t even noticed me when I’ve said hi to you at the hospital. I know you’re sick but... I don’t know. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jackie. I guess I just hate February.”

“No… there’s something wrong. Is this a bad time of year for you?”

She looked at Jackie properly for the first time in the conversation, concern laced in her typically brusque face. It was a bit of an impasse. Telling Jackie would probably screw things up further, especially given how close she was with Bryce. If she was being honest, Suki had no idea if Bryce had confronted Jackie about the whole thing. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to know. If Bryce hadn’t chastised Jackie, then Suki knew the whole thing had been about her, and he really had meant that the fact they were sleeping together changed things. Of course if he had, that would mean that Suki wasn’t special at all. She couldn’t win.

Was indifference worse than resentment?

“Something like that,” she gave a small sad smile. Jackie nodded understandingly, and Suki knew she wouldn’t press.

“Here,” Jackie patted the chair beside her, clearing off the last of her sandwich in the other hand. Suki didn’t really want to sit down and chat—she’d been hoping to hole up in her room all day again—but at this point that would be rude. So she reluctantly slid into the chair. “So, I need to ask you a question.”

Suddenly Suki’s head whirred with all the possible things Jackie could be curious about, but all they landed on was Bryce. Had she somehow found out they’d been sleeping together? Or, did she know those sweatpants were his? What if Bryce had confronted her about the whole thing and that was this? All questions lead to him. And that made her seriously nervous. She didn’t want to talk about him, she didn’t want to think about him. Even though that seemed all she could do these days.

“Okay…”

“So after the whole I-stopped-you-from-hitting-a-surgical-intern thing, did you maybe… go back and do it?”

Suki balked, she wasn’t expecting this. “No? What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of them sporting matching black eyes, I wondered if—”

“No.” Suki was surprised by the revelation, because it certainly hadn’t been her.

“Oh. Alright. I suppose he’s probably just a dick generally, then. I’m glad, I’m still shocked they didn’t report us.”

Although Jackie might’ve been right—he might’ve just been an ass in some other situation—Suki couldn’t help but feel there was some connection. Maybe Landry was pissed they’d given him away? No, he didn’t seem the type. She didn’t really feel like asking the guy, but the situation was curious to her. Hopefully there’d be enough gossip once she was back at work to figure it out.

“Fred’s nose is fine, by the way. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this,” Jackie said as she looked at the table; affection was something she was still getting her head around.

Suki nodded, she was glad she hadn’t broken anyone. Because she had been feeling a little guilty, even if he had deserved it. That feeling paled in comparison to how it had affected things with Bryce, though.

—-

The following days, months, indeterminate amount of time were hell for Bryce too.

He’d taken it too far. He could’ve let her down more gently. But she was too forgiving, too loyal, and she would’ve still been there for him—he couldn’t have that. Fucking hell, she would’ve probably bought him soup about the fact he’d rejected her if he’d been soft about it. And shit, he adored her for it.

He felt so incredibly guilty because he could see he’d hurt her. Those words cut like a knife for so many reasons. First, he looked like he only cared about getting in her pants and it hurt him that that meant every meaningful moment they shared became just another way to fuck her. Second, it had been a direct contradiction to what he’d told her before when she’d asked him the same question—and he’d insisted they were friends. Third, he was sure he’d done it at the worst possible time. Just when he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. Like the way she looked at him meant what he wanted it to mean. And yes, that was why it had to happen, but it also meant he’d probably hurt her even more.

Shit, he wished he didn’t hurt her at all. Ever. He wished she could always be okay, he wished she could brush it off. But he knew she couldn’t. Even if he meant nothing to her—something he didn’t know the answer to—the way Suki was as a person would mean she’d be upset no matter what. She was thoughtful, loving, and empathetic. He’d seen that time and time again. Even if she didn’t like him the way he liked her, the fact of losing a friend was enough for her. And he was beating himself up nonstop for letting things get to the point where he would hurt her. Had hurt her.

Part of Bryce had wanted those idiots to report him for hitting Ben, some sort of sadistic payback for what he’d done to Suki. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t, but at least he still had work to pour himself into. That was his only solace. The thing he loved the most. Or, historically had.

Although he truly fell for Suki at Halloween, he was also of the belief that there’d been some odd emotional bond from the very start. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. All the flirting, the desire to be near her, the way she made him feel. It was clinging to the familiar, the concentrated girl from college who he’d shared a moment with, whom he’d felt compelled to comfort that day. They were fucked before they even tried.

—-

If Suki had any hope of things fixing themselves after some time, that was gone when the months dragged on by with no word. It was easier than she expected to avoid friend outings:

I’m so tired.

I’m working really early tomorrow.

I’m actually working.

I’m trying to drink less.

And that seemed enough for the moment. She had picked up enough extra shifts that most of the time she really was working her ass off. Aurora knew what had happened, being Suki’s one confidant, and helped along with the excuses and avoiding. Aurora was… less than happy with Bryce but never said anything at Suki’s request. She did, however, disapprove of the way Suki was handling things.

“You can’t let this mean you avoid all your friends,” she’d said one day after trying to drag Suki out of her bedroom to Donahue’s. Suki had been grateful that Aurora hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Even if she had been right.

“I live with you guys. It’s only him who’s extra, anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be nice to clear the air, though? Yeah, he was a dick, but you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of the time we’re all at Edenbrook.”

“I’m just not ready yet.”

Was Suki putting off the inevitable? Almost definitely.

—-

Around Easter, Suki had a couple of days off and was still feeling totally awful. It didn’t help this gave her a chance to think about it. She’d just been so engrossed in work and then so exhausted she’d fall straight asleep. There wasn’t as much time to focus on it properly, even if it did come into her mind at every opportunity. Every time she had to schedule a surgery she dreaded it would be Bryce walking through those doors—but by a stroke of luck it never was. Fate striking again. She did have Ben once, which was as awkward as it could’ve been.

That day around Easter the group had made a big meal and spent some nice quality time together. So in the next instalment of a long line of mistakes, Suki drank too much wine and found herself on Bryce’s doorstep. Which kind of made her cry all over again remembering the last time she was drunk and how Bryce cared for her. How he’d held her and kept her hair back and brushed her teeth and put her in his pyjamas. How he’d cuddled her as she fell asleep. And how apparently that was just a courtesy, not because he really gave a shit.

She thought about what he’d said: if only you knew what a screw up I was, and how ominous that felt now. I’m not sure what you meant, but I feel like the screw up now. No—I am the screw up.

She stared at his door from a distance, before nearing it. Then backing away. Then pacing back and forth. It probably should’ve been a warning that even in her drunk state she couldn’t make up her mind, but clearly it wasn’t.

She neared it, and knocked. Footsteps began to sound out and then when she felt the knob begin to twist she blockaded it on her side.

“Don’t open the door,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear, lolling her forehead onto it. “I can’t do this properly if I have to look at you.” Because even just imagining his face was painful right now. He probably looked so pretty. Unaltered. Just the thought was making her sobs hitch in her throat; but she didn’t want him to hear her crying.

There was a pause from the other side. “Suki…” the tone of his voice was indecipherable.

“I just need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unawares to Suki, Bryce was directly on the other side of the door, his ear pressed up against it and his eyes shut. It was her voice—he hadn’t heard it in what felt like way too long. He just wanted to rip open the door and see her face. Hug her. Kiss her. Say sorry. But she was right, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So he clambered his hands against the wood beside his head, reaching for the unreachable.

Bryce wasn’t sure how to respond, either.

“I fucked up. Bad. I-” she swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I fell for you,” she tried to control her voice but the tears were relentless, her hand shaking on the wooden door. This wasn’t the ideal situation to be confessing her feelings but it honestly just sort of came out. And there was no taking it back now.

It wasn’t something she was particularly used to… wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. Usually she’d sort of just… fallen into a relationship and that was that. But here she was admitting to Bryce—who’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t feel the same—that she’d fallen for him.

Drunk, no less.

“You…” Bryce started, but Suki cut him off.

“And I don’t… wanna see you again. I can’t ever see you again. It hurts too damn much. I know I don’t mean that to you, but I just...”

“But Suki you—”

“Please don’t. I’m going to move on. I’m giving up Bryce for lent,” Suki, drunk, didn’t care that Easter was the end of lent. “I just had to say it first.”

Before she broke too much she rushed away from the apartment and didn’t look back.

Didn’t hear Bryce’s whisper from the other side of the door: “I fell for you too. Long ago.”

—-

All the way home she questioned whether she’d made the right decision. Whether she should’ve just left it.

If admitting her feelings was perhaps entirely idiotic. Sober Suki would probably think so. But there was a slight sense of pressure lifted. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. He knew.

She’d feel embarrassed tomorrow, but that was a problem for sober Suki.

When she got home to see everyone still sitting around the table laughing with their wine glasses she wasn’t entirely sure she was in the mood for it (the whole heartbreak thing probably had something to do with that), but couldn’t object when she was beckoned over.

“Did you get more wine?”

Oh yeah. Her excuse. Oops.

“They were out…”

Jackie shot her an uncertain glance, but everyone was too drunk and jolly to care.

Eventually Suki was able to retreat to bed and follow her usual pattern. But she found herself staring at her phone. Specifically Bryce’s contact.

She’d meant it. She was giving him up. That meant taking certain measures.

She deliberated for what felt like hours, but eventually sent the text.

Suki Moore: Bryce & Suki’s Fuck Buddy Agreement: TERMINATED

Almost immediately her heart was in her throat and again knew sober Suki would regret this. It hurt. Knowing she’d put the final nail in the coffin.

Bryce’s dots popped up. Then down again. Then up, down. Then they never returned. The word read looking more and more like dread. He was probably glad to be free of her.

She found herself wondering how things had changed so drastically. Bryce had gone from being a stranger at a frat party to a colleague with undeniable chemistry to a fuck to… so much more. And now he was worse than a stranger. Her relationship with him was well and truly terminated.

What’s a break-up when the two were never really together?

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 15

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual mentions

A/N:  hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

    - I think we suffer from the same thing, then … Sir. - her lashes fluttered slowly and Sebastian wondered if time had stopped moving and she was perhaps the only person who held that control.

    - Fuck it. - his hands flew to the sides of her face, grabbing her close to him so he could connect his lips to hers. Y/N fell down onto he couch, losing balance at the sheer veracity of the kiss. He swiftly turned her around so she was laying on top of his chest. The kiss seemed endless and every time it felt like it ended, he would kiss her again some longer some shorter. Her hands slid up and down his blazer, stopping at the top so she could pull it off him and throw it somewhere in the living room.

As his hands climbed up her torso, reaching the bottom of her sweatshirt until the lift binged. Y/N’s heart stopped as she pushed him off her, eyes widening as she saw Gwen walk into the entrance followed by her newer bed acquisition. The heiress paid barely any attention to the two of them, instead grabbing her bag from the hook. 

     - Try to be back by 5, we have that cabaret meeting, remember? - Sebastian spoke up before Gwen could return to the lift. 

     - I’ve already told you that I won’t be caught dead in a cabaret. - she rolled her eyes, lowering her dark sunglasses to the bridge of her nose. - Ask Y/N to go, she probably has nothing to do. 

     - It’s not Y/N’s job to ...

     - It’s okay. - Y/N softly placed her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, trying to diffuse the fight that was surely about to begin if he decided to speak back to Gwen. She guessed he didn’t know to what extent she always got what she wanted and so, she thought that maybe her long and thorough knowledge in avoiding blow outs with Gwen could help him. However, Sebastian calmed down due to her soft touch and not because she decided to avoid a fight. She seemed to have that effect on him. - I’ll just fill in for Gwen, I have the free night. 

    - Are we done? - she whined like a five year old before jumping back into the lift once Sebastian dismissed the situation. Once the lift doors closed and the arrows above blinked the down, Sebastian wrapped his hands around Y/N’s waist effectively pulling her from the couch onto his lap. 

    - Where were we? - he questioned, pushing the hair away from her face that had inevitably moved out of place during the heavy make out. Her cheeks heated up as she moved her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling the smell of bergamot and pepper of his cologne. Sebastian always seemed to smell good in an intoxicating way that made her want to wrap her whole being around the scent. - Cuddling works too. 

   - We can’t do this. You know we can’t do this. - there was really not much force or containment left in Y/N and characters she used to loathe for their infidelity suddenly became sympathetic in her mind. Suddenly Y/N understood Anna, Cecilia, Constance and their passions for it seemed that once your heart made a decision, your mind couldn’t really argue it. So there she was now, out of arguments, out of reasons not to be in his arms, wrapped in his aura. She had lost all the reasons. Why should she be allowed to give into her passions when Gwen herself constantly did despite her impending marriage? Why should Y/N always be in the right? Was there even something known as right or wrong or was everything shades of greyness? - One of us must have self control.

  - Well, angel ... I hope you’re not expecting me to be the prudent one because I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. - Y/N pulled slightly back to look at his eyes. Eyes couldn’t lie as they were the window to the soul and the soul is too pure to be filled with lies. His eyes were softened, looking at her as if he had stated the most mundane fact in the whole entire universe, as if he had told her it was rainy outside, no big deal. - Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. 

   - Maybe you’re right. Maybe we ...

   - Mr Stan? - they were removed off their daizy daydream by a voice getting closer and closer. Yet, this time, none of them were fast enough or caring enough to separate from each other and as such Amelia walked in to her employer sat against the couch with one of his employees on his lap. Y/N cowered under her gaze, swearing mentally as Sebastian got up. - Your one o’clock meeting is here. 

   - Thank you, Amelia. - he cleared his throat before turning his head ever so slightly to look at Y/N. - I’ll see you tonight, angel. 

The handmaid nodded, bitting her lip as he left before her gaze shifted to Amelia who had a slightly hidden grin in her face, something she couldn’t exactly read. Was she gonna tell Gwen about the situation she had found? Was she gonna lecture her that the position was not something she should’ve been in with a married man? 

   - I must say, Miss Y/N, you’re quite the little box of surprises. 

   - Please don’t tell Gwen. - she rushed after her into the kitchen. - I know it’s wrong but I ... I really tried. 

   - Miss Y/N, it’s not up to me to judge your choices. Besides, I’ve always thought Mr. Stan needed a softer influence to get away from whatever manners his father taught him. 

   - But it’s wrong ... I’m such a bad person. - Y/N plopped down on one of the high chairs. - How would Gwen feel if she knew?

   - Well, how would you feel if it was someone else he was engaged to and not Miss Gwen? - Y/N rubbed her neck at the question. Was she only feeling bad because she knew Gwen ever since they were children? Would she have jumped into the affair without a thought? Was she that bad of a person. - People aren’t good or bad, Miss Y/N. No one is purely good and no one is purely bad.

   - I can’t explain an affair. Why would I do this? Her family raised me and could possibly kill me. How do I thank them? I kiss her husband to be in her home. Oh god, I’m a home wrecker ...

   - Now, now, Miss Y/N. You can’t be a home wrecker if those two never really wanted to be in a relationship. You can’t destroy something that isn’t there. 

Even with that Y/N spent the rest of the day wallowing in pity over feeling rather attracted to the mob boss. How could she not feel attracted to him? Not only did he appeal to her most primitive part but also to her modern side. Being next to him meant she was constantly protected, if no one dared to shot at him no one would shot at her. On the other side, he was absolutely stunning, well built and probably the nicest man she had ever met. True, she didn’t exactly know his mob persona but she didn’t exactly knew most of other mobsters business persona. 

She tried to busy her mind by considering what to wear to a cabaret. In the first place, she didn’t even knew that cabarets existed anymore and the only place she had ever heard about a cabaret had been the musical cabaret. What did people even wore to a cabaret? With that thought in mind she opened her wardrobe looked at the various dresses Gwen had handed out to her over the years. What was suitable to wear in a cabaret even? Did you dress like if you went to a nightclub? Maybe she should dress classically. Classic dresses were the most she had on her wardrobe due to Gwen having quite a few for cocktail parties and other high class gatherings but Y/N had always had a favourite one. It was an Elia Saab dress Gwen had gotten from one of her father’s associates. It was made of a short white sheer fabric which had been embroided with white flowers. It had always been one of Y/N’s favourites growing up as it reminded her of something a princess would wear, it was magical.

She grabbed the hanger of her wardrobe, pacing over to the bigger mirror with it. Once her reflection was seen in the mirror, she placed the hanger over her shoulder, playing with the fabric as she watched it in the mirror. It looked beautiful and the mere sight of it made her forget she was about to attend a business event with the man she was absolutely smitten with.

The time seemed to speed up faster and faster as Y/N gotten ready and before she knew it, it was time to go to the cabaret. Did she know what to expect? No. Was she nervous? Yes, but not entirely for the reason you’d expect her to be. She closed the door of her bedroom, face turned to the door.

   - You better not be trying to run away. - she moved her gaze from the door, noticing Sebastian at the end of the hallway. - Because it would be a pity not to show up to that meeting without such a little pretty thing like you on my arm. 

   - Am I your accessory now? 

   - Angel, anyone standing next to your is the accessory, not the other way around.

Sebastian had always believed Y/N was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever come to see in his whole life but the dress and jewellery always took her to a level that the mob boss didn’t think humanly possible. If he said he wasn’t rather prideful of parading her around as they walked into one of the cabarets he’d inherit from his father, he’d be lying. She still did not understand why out of all places he and his associates decided to have a meeting in a cabaret.

She was quickly introduced to most people before being sat by Sebastian’s left, a place that was usually reserved for either the wife or partner of a mob boss. Y/N had been used to setting the table back at the Forrests and that was something that had gotten engrained in her mind as Mr. Forrest took it particularly personal on keeping sitting etiquette. She wondered if Sebastian cared about it. Y/N soon realised that the meeting was about to become private as some of the associates got up. 

  - Stay here. - he mumbled against her ear. - I better not hear about you wandering around. 

  - Or what? - Sebastian was a controlling man and he was certain that Y/N’s natural born curiosity was something hard to keep in control. However, this was a mob spot and he didn’t want her wandering around. 

  - I’ll spank you, angel.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld​ @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: They Are Cryin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Fuck."

It wasn't a painful awakening; she actually felt damn good. Clearer, like the tiny neurons in her brain fired without a jolt of pain. The sweet moment of clarity after the removal of an infected tooth. Bliss. If only a familiar face could loom over her, a happy embrace of the one she loved. A blissful reunion.

The aging woman who looked over her with a sour expression erasing her gratitude and any field of butterflies illusion. Along with the confusion of waking up in unfamiliar territory.

Right, she was dying just a moment before.

"Where am I?"

This sloppily white-painted interior was not part of the shopping center she recognized. The medical machine that counted out her vitals was also out of place, but that was a minute detail. Jane had woken up from the dead once already, just not inside of a shipping crate. Make that one low she had not yet met.

"Just outside of London," the woman's scowl relaxed, "you're with the Special Operations Biotic Company. Luckily for you, I understand you had a rattled implant."

Her hand was grabbed before she felt her spirits utterly bottom out, the woman's dark brown eyes peering out at her from behind black and white streaked hair. A moment of shared pain passed between them before Jane could not manage to keep up the contact, "how about the LT? My home?"

"The latter is in one piece. I'm not familiar with the person you speak of," the lady spoke gently, "you were rushed here after an injury. But let me introduce you to the person that saved your life, Doctor Balcan."

Jane's gaze shifted to the person arriving on the other side of her bed, the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld. Dark brown hair and eyes loomed over her; the soft smile set upon full brown lips looked perfectly primped without a touch of makeup. The simple doctor's smock hung perfectly on her body, the garment unable to smear an ounce of the poise this woman possessed. As the female nodded in greeting and her long lashes crested her cheeks, Jane was infected with jealousy.

"Thank you, Helen," even her voice was sweet, not in an artificial way, but in the vein of the sweetness of a ripe strawberry, "I think I can handle Jane for the moment if you wouldn't mind grabbing her meal."

The woman waited for Helen to leave before speaking again, "how long have your biotic powers been misfunctioning?"

"Since the Reapers fell," time was a funny thing to Jane anymore.

"Just shy of seven months," the minuscule movement of her eyebrow hardly seemed surprised, "though, I wasn't expecting to be fixing an L5n implant."

"Who else would be stupid enough to bullrush a krogan," any vanguard worth their salt knew how other biotics could view them. Rash. Stupid. Bullheaded.

"I think your stupid luck is what saved your life. You should have had severe seizures attacks, if not died from them, months ago."

Jane continued with a snarl, "but the mall. How... did everyone make it?"

"It was unkind of us not to tell you immediately, but only one civilian casualty," the doctor proffered a soft smile, "the Special Ops group got to your compound in time to repel the brunt of the attack. We had heard there was a pocket trying to rebuild; we just weren't sure if you were friendly, so the entire team did not come along. They had to rush you back here. The equipment is too fragile to move quickly."

She was even nice, gross.

"I was asked to pass on the message that you keep your ass down," at least the swear word brought her down from the utterly ethereal.

Jane's smile cracked, slightly painful against the cybernetic scars that littered her cheek.

"Your body is a curious piece of work; the sheer amount of upgrades and scarring at a microscopic level is fascinating," the woman pulled out her datapad, scrolling down what Jane assumed was a list of medical notes, "synthetic weaving to reinforce bones, microfibres in your muscles, synthetic skin fibres as well. I can't imagine the cost of that modified biotic amp."

Jane looked at her blankly, "you certainly poked around."

"Somebody wanted you alive," strawberry remarked, undeterred, "I'd think you're some sort of mad scientist experiment -that's a foolish notion. But I have my bets on Special Ops... N7."

Jane's eyes snapped into a glare, setting her jaw hard. Teeth grinding into her following biting statement, "don't attempt to bite off more than you can chew."

The woman returned the statement with tempered pity, lips tucked into a frown. The kickback from her calloused words came back twofold as a sharp pain seared across her orbital bone, requiring a hand to staunch the heat before it ended out in a cry. Jane should be thankful, instead, she was pissed. Most of the angst directed inward, some at the patheticness of the situation, little at the well-meaning doctor.

"Can I go?"

"I'll need you here for a couple more weeks minimum."

Fucking perfect.

The doctor continued before Jane's snarl turned into an attack, "you know you need to keep your biotics offline for a while. During that time, we can prepare to merge our groups as one. We'd like your help in escorting us back."

The last line was a platitude, but the LT's message made more sense. The guilt of their previous encounter started to trickle into her psyche before she squelched it away with a flinch, "any more orders, doc?"

"As you are The Commander, I think I should be deferring to you."

"Come again?"

The female laughed behind her hand, "it's obvious who you are. You may fool everyone else with the fancy scars, wilted demeanor, and blonde hair -which by the way, looks fabulous- but your unique physiology and enhancements give it away. I struggled with the thought briefly because how could the savior of the galaxy be here? You charged in with the strike team that went to activate the Crucible. But by God's grace, you're here."

"You can't be-"

Strawberry waved away the protest with her hand, "I'm more than some yokel surgeon. I don't get to be a spec ops field doctor without further training. You won't fool me."

"You bitch."

"Language, miss!"

The sharp crack of the older's woman's words snuffed the faint glow Jane had unconsciously started to accumulate. But it did not dim her glower, blue eyes pinned on the female tapping something into a datapad. Jane was still, frozen in the moment until the second snap of warmth from a small body clambering into her bed shook her from a blind stupor. The little hands and the mound of mousy hair looking at her with barely disguised disdain.

"But I already know those words," Evelyn murmured, only to increase the scrutiny Helen placed on her patient.

"Why are you-" the room immediately thickened with another aura, a solemn shake from the salt and pepper haired woman stopped her question, "are you here because Pater sent you?"

"It is my job," the girl declared bravely, "Pater said that I was to stop you from fighting with anymore krogan. Or just fighting."

"It was my fault, Evelyn...Helen," Strawberry squeaked, "I poked Mar- sorry, I meant Jane without telling her."

Jane's attention returned to the Doctor, pupils narrowing. That was no longer her name.

"I'll excuse it this time, Rahna," Helen's voice returned to a gentle timbre. Handing over the plate of rations, prepared in a manner that was meant to be appeasing. Simple rations that Jane was not thrilled to consume, "eat up. Biotics need energy. I've seen you guys crash before. I don't want you accidentally breaking something expensive."

Rahna.

Rahna...

Rahna.

The woman raised an eyebrow in her direction, plump lips playing into a smirk. Jane was had. Jealousy sunk deeper into her guts, bordering on hatred. How could Kaidan call her beautiful after seeing this divine creature? Beautiful on the Citadel. Beautiful after the first night they had bunked together. Beautiful every time they fucked after. Beautiful in the small moments. Beautiful in the big and the in-between. Had he meant Rahna all along?

"Two weeks."

"What now?" Jane snapped away from the grip of her thoughts.

Rahna crossed her arms, Evelyn giggled, and Helen spoke, "biotics."

"All of this commotion is probably a little too much for her, right now," Rahna cautioned to a sulking child, "let Jane eat in peace while I run a few more tests."

"Yup, super hungry," Jane murmured under her breath.

The patient's gaze did not stray from the Doctor, laser-focused on the slightest movement she made. Waiting for her to do something rash, her temper barely holding behind her tongue. Violent thoughts collided in her head, the desire to do something impetuous a string she had yet to completely cut. It was the easier way, the brutish way- but it was not the way Shepard did it. Shepard would resist, The Commander famously turned the other cheek. Chose kindness. Some of her could still seep through.

Even if it was in the form of stony silence.

"Why hide who you are? You are the one person who could reunite everyone."

A bloody icon. Hero. Butcher. Madwoman. Lover. Terrorist. Murderer. Savior. Pathetic.

"There's nothing to explain," a surly statement only dampened by a flinch, "I don't owe you anything."

"So, it wouldn't matter if I told everyone?"

Jane's silence was the answer.

"This is Major Alenko's squad, I'm sure everyone would be interested," Strawberry continued, placing her first foot away from the bedside, "Let alone you being Shepard, the Major's fling is a very juicy topic. I'm sure meeting the woman would be a top priority."

Rahna took several steps away, gliding out of the retrofitted container. Someone pulled her back, Jane regretted the breeze against her exposed backside. Luckily nobody seemed to pay them much mind in the moment.

"No," her eyes lit with tears, "don't. I can't."

Kaidan knew it was the end; Mary couldn't bring herself into accepting that. Luck. Stupidity. Credits. Spite. They had all stopped her death, had prevented her from reaching a low she could not climb out of. The brutal murder of her parents. Losing her unit on Akuze. Hell, even the deaths of friends during her campaign against the Reapers. They hurt like hell, but it never brought her to her knees. Now... in this moment. In the reality of losing Kaidan, she crashed. Tears, sobbing, railing against the ground. It was pathetic.

Was it the loss of her entire family aboard the Normandy, or just one man?

Dark brown eyes met her on her level, gentle the hint of moisture in her deep eyes, "everyone here mourns him."

"Fuck you."

Rahna laughed, offering out her hand and pulling the woman up to her feet, "I won't tell your secret, but I think you should talk to someone. We have-"

"No, nobody else."

"You know the risks of PTSD; you can't push through it."

"I'm fine."

Jane's stare hardened the emotions out-drying the tears riveting down her scarred cheeks.

"Or how about a deal, my silence for a few talks? Nothing official, just friendship."

She considered for several long moments, biting back each bitter comment that fought to come out. It wasn't the time for resistance. Talking wouldn't hurt, especially if it meant Rahna kept silent. What was she supposed to do for the next two weeks? Stare at the wall? Teach a child to swear? Avoid Kaidan's squad as much as humanly possible?

"Friendship may be pushing it."

[writefightandflightclub]

Violent delights (Chapter four)

Summary: First Order!Poe x reader series (ongoing). Chapters 1-3 available here. Taglist open.

Author’s note: Chapter 3 was smutty. Have we all recovered? This is significantly less smutty, but stick around. You have my assurance that things will heat up again in future chapters. Also, if you’ve ever wondered what the Morning After the Night Before with FO!Poe might be like? You’re about to find out. As ever, reblogs appreciated, comments and asks very welcome. I LOVE to hear what you think (what is the point without you?)!

Warnings: (18+ only) restraint / imprisonment (canon-typical), language, sexual references, choking (con and non-con), torture references, drugging references, bondage references. Um, being stepped on (idk). Let me know if I missed any. 

Taglist: @aussiefangirlwolfy @localashe @fictionalcharactersownme @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass @itsamedeemoney (let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be added). @tintinwrites I’m taking the liberty of tagging you - hope that’s ok?

The Commander lures you from your slumber with the soft press of a kiss on your mouth, the seductive skim of his tongue along your bottom lip. His scent ensnares you; that undertone of caustic, First Order soap masked by his potent, rousing musk. Stirring, you hum as -impossibly gentle- he ghosts his lips along your cheek, your jaw, mouths at your pulse point. “Time to go, sweetheart.” he coaxes, his balmy breath trailing to the shell of your ear. And then you can practically hear the shark smile, the glisten of teeth as he whispers: “Hux is waiting for you.” His words are soft-spoken, but with the precision of his threat they become as intrusive as an alarm resounding in your head.

It is quite the wake-up call.

You inhale sharply, instantly alert, but before you can react he yanks your hands, your bound hands, wresting you violently from the bed. He jolts you forwards and your knees collide harshly with the hard floor, your continuing momentum throwing you down on to your elbows. You are immobile for a moment, hissing-in air, until the jarring pain in your joints abates. And then, in an instant, he is looming over you, pressing his polished, heavy-tread boot down on to the side of your face.

It is quite the Morning After.

“G’ morning to you too, darling,” you simmer as your face crushes against the cold, unyielding floor, your ass sticking up into the air.

“Are you going to behave yourself?” he asks, curtly, as his boot pushes down more insistently, forcing your jaw slack, a trail of drool beginning to course down on to the cool tiles. You treat it as a temporary moment of respite, a chance to haul in a deep, centering breath. To observe that he’s redressed you in your sullied Resistance clothes, boots and all. You brace against the stun-cuffs at your wrists, against his foot; testing your restraints, testing him. You find no hint of weakness. “Are you?” he snarls.

You make a reluctant noise of compliance, the mention of Hux still causing blood to pulse rhythmically in your ears like a muted siren.

“Good. Get up.” he orders, unpinning you, and you clamber to your feet, scouring the commander’s face for any whisper of feeling; any hint at all of internal conflict which might indicate he would think twice before handing you over. You draw a blank. The siren in your head does not relent.

“I’m getting the hint that you don’t want me to stay for breakfast, Dameron. How about you call me a TIE and I’ll be on my way?”

That fucking crescent smile. A bat of his eyes. “Come on, rebel. What did you expect?”

He’s right. Surely you knew it would come to this? And yet you still srutinize his overcast, sunless eyes as if he might be your lighthouse. As if he might guide you through the rolling sea of panic. As if his eyes -alight with that gunmetal glint- could call you home across unforgiving seas. But his expression meets you and it’s bleak; detached. He’s not your light. Once again he’s the dark side of the storm that will spell your desolation. Your stomach flips as if you are being subsumed by a crashing wave.

He’s in control. You submitted. You remember submitting vividly. Your core clenches around that memory.

“You didn’t think I would keep you safe much longer, did you?” he questions. 

“Safe?” you scoff.

“Have I hurt you?” he asks pithily, managing to sound affronted.

Where do you begin? Drugged, slapped, fucked, cut. “You know you-”

He interrupts, rephrasing his question, eyes fervid. “Have I hurt you in ways you didn’t like?”

No. No, you admit. Not yet.

But the General will.

Somewhere through the haze of panic, the trauma of being torn so harshly from sleep, the memories of the night before which cavort in and out of your head, your self-preservation instincts finally begin to kick-in. You cling to this newfound lifeline, cycling through your options, systematically.

Seduce, bargain, blackmail, beg, fight. And he must sense that you land on “fight” as your body coils itself like a snake preparing to strike.

He raises a finger.

“Ah-ah.” he warns, imperiously. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Don’t you want to find out where Hux is keeping Barret? Aren’t you burning to know?”

A final option. Comply.

Bile rises up in your throat. Barret. You avert your eyes from the commander as your face burns in an admission of guilt. You haven’t thought about Barret once. You were too preoccupied getting the fuck of your life from the First Order commander who drugged him. Who drugged you. Your breath seethes in and out of you, but -in truth- you’re only angry at yourself. 

“He might be a little worse for wear,” Dameron continues, unmoved, “you know, from the torture... but he’s alive, for now. And I hear he’s really worried about you.” His tone is purposely flippant, his wolf eyes hooded, goading.

You feel sick. Ashamed. But you jut your chin at him, as defiant as possible in the face of resignation. “Take me to Hux. I’m not going to beg.”

The commander leers fiendishly, knowingly, knives hidden in his smile. “You only beg for my cock then? Not for your friends’ lives?” 

There’s nothing but truth in his razor-sharp words, and he can see that they cut you. You could muster something in retort, you could attempt to fight or rage, but it would be futile; it wouldn’t change how much of a monster you apparently are, would it? Maybe pain, a slow end, is as much as you deserve.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart,” he sings, his buoyant tone contrary to everything you are feeling. “I’m all for the begging. I like my needy little toy.” The pad of his thumb rises to your lips, brushing each in turn. Predictably, even this wretched morsel of touch evokes a dark desire in you. How is he so capable of overriding all your better instincts? Flooding you with it. 

Yes, you could say something, try and retort, but instead you just look at him, dragging your eyes over his lips, his hair, his uniform, his body, his crotch. Until his nostrils flare. Until he begins to squirm under your intense study. Until -you imagine- the blood pulses to his length. You swear, somehow, that you can almost feel the throb of lust in his body.

And then, you give him a tight-lipped, knowing smile. A self-satisfied quirk of your eyebrow. “I’m the needy one?”

Neither of you are locked in this tryst alone. Both dragged down by it. Perhaps... perhaps you shouldn’t castigate him for this. Perhaps he simply stirred the beast which had been in you all along. That’s it. You could hardly blame him for tipping you into darkness -could you- if you had already come so close to the edge by your own volition?

A long breath seethes out of him, and he wrings those damn leather gloves. His eyes darken. “Get to the refresher, now, scum.” he says coolly, no doubt reasserting his authority. You side-eye him, huff a breath out. It’s not as though you could forget that you’re presently at his mercy. If he has any.

So, you oblige. You let him lean you up against the counter, hands positioning your hips. You let him spread your thighs astride him so he can nestle there. Your bound hands pinned uselessly between your warm bodies. You let his hand still your head as he washes your face with a damp cloth, his jaw set. You let him gently fix your hair. You feel awash with unease. Despite this closeness his touch feels... ceremonial. Like he’s preparing you for a ritual slaughter; preening you as a pretty prize for the General. You suppose he enjoys the power play of being the one to get you ready. After all, why would he allow you even a scrap of control? He decided when you woke, how you woke. He’s decided everything which has happened since. It’s meant to be destablising, you understand. Well, it’s working. You feel a distinct lack of stablity.

You grimace as, next, he coats a toothbrush with paste and holds it out to your lips. You look at him questioningly, mildly humiliated. And then he’s saying “open”, voice laced with honey, looking right at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes like tractor beams. You despise yourself for the fact it turns you on as he controls your jaw with his hand in order to work the toothbrush over your pearly teeth. Seriously? Even this? He commands you “spit”. He says something about if you had more time he would make you open your pretty mouth and have you swallow instead.

Then, he caresses you with a single, gloved finger. He runs it deliberately along your jaw, his touch like a fuse line running along your skin, possessing the power to combust you. And with him here, between your thighs like this, all you can think about is last night. Him writhing on you, hot and animal. You remember how you opened eagerly for him and welcomed him in, his length gliding into you thick and urgent. All you can think about is how you want him again. You become lost in your body, in the echo of his brutal thrusts.

“Oh. One more thing.” his teeth flash white as he takes his aftershave in one hand, clasping your bound limbs in the other. He spritzes his scent on to each of your pulse points in turn. So that you smell like him. Then, his hand travels up your neck, and he squeezes. Lightly. Ardently. His thumb traverses circles on the fading bite marks he trailled down to your collarbone. He hums in satisfaction as you mewl for him, unconsciously offering your throat to him like dazed prey. He swallows thickly, settling his firm gaze on you. He shakes you, to be sure you listen. “When he touches you like this, don’t forget who you belong to.”

You avert your eyes from him, from your captor. Your lover. The gesture, his words, trailing a slow, liquid heat all the way down to your core.

“So needy, sweetling,” he confirms, with relish, slapping you lightly on the cheek with his open palm.

Seduce, bargain, blackmail, seduce, beg, fight, comply, seduce. You cycle through your options again.

He removes himself from the junction of your thighs, seemingly unaffected. It leaves you lacking. He turns, somehow composed, and sweeps towards the main room, where you intuitively know you’re expected to follow. “Ready to meet the General?” he throws casually back to you.

A final option. Panic.

You stall there momentarily, still reeling from him, from everything. But as you gather yourself you notice the shaving blade, glinting on the counter; your true lighthouse in the storm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you respond, surreptitiously pocketing the blade and catching-up to him.

He gives you a sly once-over. “Not afraid to meet Hux?”

You shrug, almost light-heartedly, but your words drip with vitriol. “From one First Order dick to another.”

You are shocked as his face splits into a fleeting, perfect smile. It lingers in his eyes even as he clips a chain to your stun cuffs, so that he might easily lead you. Then he gives it a tug -his eyes finally lit, dancing- as if he’s thinking about how else he might make use of you all bound like this. “You know, if you weren’t scum I feel like we could be good together, baby.”

Absurd, isn’t it? He’s about to march you off toward probable death. But suddenly you’re smiling back. “Maybe if you gave up the Order.” you look him up and down, eyes roving aprovingly over his tamed curls, across those pressed lapels at the expanse of his chest, down to those polished, unforgiving boots.

“Let me guess. You want me to keep the uniform.”

He bites his lip, teeth snagging on the plump flesh, and you wonder if you might jump him then and there. Instead, you share an evanescent moment of affinity, an intimation of your weakness for one another. A moment where you both perhaps wonder, what if? What if? 

Then, he wrests you from the room, marching you down the long, sparse corridor of the First Order ship. He leads you along by the chain and you follow almost gladly in his wake, the wake of his storm. As you follow, you are positively enthralled by his raven curls, his measured, majestic stride in motion. You recall the first time you saw him stalk down that street, dark and devastating, weaving almost gleefully through the choas and bloodshed. Arresting. Formidable. For some inexplicable reason the memory warms you, perverse as that is. Look at how far you’ve come.

As he leads you, you hardly register the contemptuous looks of the others you pass, as they realise precisely who and what you are. What you do notice is the way the crowd part for him, the reverant fear and respect he inspires. And that makes you glow with the most peculiar pride. He -this powerful man- had craved you, caved for you, taken you, said you belong to him. Not only that, but he had welcomed your imperfect darkness, tasted it, caressed it, drank from it. It disturbs you to think you have never felt more seen.

It already feels too soon, when your journey is complete. If only you had more time. You arrive at a metal door, and the commander swiftly dismisses the Stormtroopers standing guard. They turn on their heels and when the corridor is clear and quiet, he stands outside with you for a moment, toe-to-toe, his hands tugging yours taut towards him. If an onlooker didn’t know better, they might say you were exchanging vows, the scene practically matrimonial.

He stares deeply, uncomfortably into your eyes. “So about last night, sweetling.” he starts.

No, you’re not letting him do that. Not now. “No,” you protest firmly.

The commander looks at you curiously. Amused. “Oh, so you do have some limits, after all?”

“Take the cuffs off me.” Your request is plain, his compliance improbable, but you can’t help blurt it out as you face the reality of meeting the General. The General you know wants you dead. Or worse.

“Honey...” He leans in close to you, excrutiatingly close, diverting his lips to the shell of your ear. “I’ll take the cuffs off you when you’ve been good.” He lingers there, reaching one hand down into your pocket, reclaiming his shaving blade. “And you’ve been very, very bad.” You practically whimper, from his proximity, from the rasp of his hot breath on your cheek, from the fact you are now all alone without any lifeline at all. He leans back from you slightly, rocking his weight on to his heels and smoothly concealing the blade in his own breast pocket. You wish you could wipe that maddening smirk off his face. 

“Hey, come on.” he says soothingly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. For the first time, probably long overdue, you flinch away from his touch. “Listen. Whatever happens next, just go with it. It might even be fun.” He gives you a surreal wink, the briefest flash of white teeth. Then, he presses a sudden, crushing, closed-lips kiss on to your mouth, just before the door slides open. It is almost as if he has wed you in the archway of a First Order corridor, claimed your allegience. But you remember with clarity that he’s made you no promises. No vows.

You turn, to see an open, bare, and expansive room, Hux stood in the centre, facing away from you. Arms clasped behind his back.

You are spiralling, into an abyss. Into a place that’s hopeless, and the only thing you find to cling on to is this thrum in your veins, this oscillating darkness. You let it embrace you. Baptise you. Calm you. A deep, centering force. It allows you to draw just enough power to smooth your face, dull your panic. To stand taller as if a taut rope is coiled like a corset at your stomach. You submit -you’re getting so good at that- and you feel the darkness bind you and hitch you up in its beatific bondage.

Bolstered, you suddenly you have the nerve to venture into the space, your voice surprisingly loud, impassive, even before Hux has turned to you.

You want to be majestic. Fearless. Ruthless. Like him. You will be.

“How long have you been standing like that for effect, Hugs? Ten minutes, twenty minutes? Did you try out a few different poses?”

He turns, his face already scrunched-up in distaste as if he’s sucked on bitter fruit. He’s already so unlike Dameron, you realise. In fact, you’re not sure how he dare call himself superior to your sweet, forbidden fruit, at all. Out of the corner of your eye, you even catch Dameron looking at him with disdain.

Nevertheless, Hux stalks towards you as if he owns the room. In your periphery, you see the commander circle to the side of you; to get a better view of the proceedings, you suppose. Hux attempts to tower over you, looks down his nose at you. This close, he smells astringent. Still that caustic, First Order soap, but without any of the warming, tantalizing musk. He cycles through all the classic intimidation tatics. But it’s not working, you realise. You’re not scared of him. You see through him. He’s lost. Desperate too; to prove himself.

As soon as the General sucks in a breath to speak you get in there first. “I’m ready to roll my eyes, so let me know as soon as you’ve finally landed on a comeback.” you snark.

He exhales slowly, already looking mildly perturbed.

“This is one of the problems with the Resistance.” he says to no-one in particular, beginning to circle you, his hands clasped behind his back. His beady eyes fix on you from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Oh, Hugs. The circling. Do they teach this in villain school? It’s making me dizzy.”

Hux only smiles thinly, tiredly. “Commander Dameron, perhaps you’d like to formally introduce our guest to her stun cuffs?” Hux’s eyes tic towards the commander, who -you think- finds himself having to quickly scrub all trace of amusement from his face. 

He meets your eyes, just for an instant. “Clicker’s broken, General.”

“What do you mean the clicker’s broken?” Hux spits, voice already trembling with rage. Whether his rage is for you, or for Dameron, you’re not quite sure.

“Clicker’s broken. Very unfortunate.” He purses his full lips, his handsome face pinched into business mode.

Hux seethes, his hand flailing out towards your throat. You eyeball Dameron as he chokes you, and you swear you see his tongue flick out over his lips. But Hux’s grip is crushing, actually suffocating. The tightness in your chest becomes like fire. You begin to see spots.

“With respect, General,” Dameron interjects, “you might want to skip ahead to the next part?”

Hux sneers, as if he doesn’t very much appreciate the commander telling him what to do. Still, he drops you, and you collapse to your knees, coughing and heaving the air back into your lungs, spluttering on the floor at the General’s feet, as if prostrating yourself for forgiveness. Oh, now you are pissed off. You don’t kneel for this man. This whiny, cruel, snivelling wretch. How dare he touch you. As your anger intensifies, you feel that dark force vibrating under your skin once again. You summon more of it. Gather it deep inside until you think you can even hear the drone of it in your blood, in the marrow of your bones.

Hux is not the most powerful one in the room. Not by far. Hux should be afraid of you.

You recover, implausibly quickly. You stand. You bring yourself face-to-face with the General. You brace yourself for whatever he is about to subject you to next, at Dameron’s behest. But there’s no way you could see what Hux says next coming.

“Whilst it is more than apparent that you have some residual... insolence to be drilled out of you,“ he starts to address you, uncomfortably, “be assured we can take care of that. We can teach you the proper way to behave, if you’re willing to learn, to be disciplined. All the same, it is my pleasure to welcome you to the First Order, Commander.”

What in the.... All you can do is look on. As if you are floating above your own body.

“Commander Dameron tells me we have a new recruit. That you were swift to betray your band of rebels,” Hux continues. “So, tell me. Are you ready to fall to your knees and renounce the Resistance?”

You had imagined the most fantastical tortures and mindfucks that the commander might concoct for you, but, well-played Dameron; you certainly didn’t see that coming.

It looks very much like you need a new list of options.

“So,” the general prods, “will you pledge your allegience?”

Before you answer, you bite your lips to stifle a laugh of disbelief. But really, it’s quite simple. You know exactly what to do.

You turn towards the commander.

“Dameron, honey?”

He looks at you, his eyes practically glowing, and then in unison you both tilt your heads towards Hux, enjoying his obvious confusion as his eyes flit between you. 

Hux gulps.

You can no longer hold back your own resplendent shark smile as you hold you hand out to your commander. “Give me the blade, darling?”

Maybe this would be fun, after all.

Violent, yes; but delightful.