#walked around on the balls of my feet and kept my arms in close

[snackugaki]

more unattended shenanigans because @shiftandshade left me alone with their DinoAU

[halosdiary]

Strawberry Shortcake | Toji x Bratty!Reader | 呪術廻戦

synopsis: You have to breed with the Zen'in clan's biggest liability. You refuse and he plays some games with you.

Contains: jealousy, mind games from Toji's side, humiliation, breeding, doggy, full Nelson, BASICALLY HATE FUCKING.

Word count: 3k

Toji doesn’t want to marry you. Not because it’s you, just because, well, he doesn’t want to marry anyone. He doesn’t want to listen to the Zenin clan at all. Marrying him off to the highest bidder, your parents, because he wasn’t a sorcerer. He hates you by association, even though it’s not your fault. But this marriage, should be rather, interesting.

“They expect me to breed with you?”

Toji asks you after the ceremony, sprawled on the futon. The Zenin clan had asked you to take his last name: Fushiguro.

All you did was ignore him, you hated this arrangement, All you wanted was freedom. You sighed as you walked over to the window looking at the view of the city. 

He watched you for a moment, studying your back as you move towards the window. He wasn’t expecting you to be friendly; neither of you wanted this.

He stood up from the futon and walked over to you, stopping a few feet behind you.

“You hate me,” he stated, his arms crossed over his broad chest as his eyes continued to look you up and down intently.

“You don’t even want to spend a single night with me, do you?”

"Hate is a strong word " you stated to him, giving him a side eye.

You turned back around to look at the view of the city. You looked down at the ring on your finger, so much shit has past you by and all you did was blink.

He stepped forward, standing right behind you, so you can practically feel his body heat. He lets out a quiet chuckle as his eyes move to your hand, where the ring is.

“The ring looks good on you, darling.” His breath fans over your ear and he places a hand on the window, effectively trapping you between the window and him.

“At least I get to look at this pretty face every day now.”

"You're so thoughtful." You said to him sarcastically.

You walk away from the window and roam into the kitchen. Not much was going on. You whipped out your phone and started texting friends.

There wasn't really much you or your new husband could do. It was clear as day you two weren't exactly fond of this wedding arrangement. As soon as you said "I do" and we're officially married, you immediately took the money your parents gave you and cut contact.

He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and watching you silently. He was trying to get a read on you. You didn’t speak to him much, and he had no idea how you might take things.

He wasn’t expecting to be met with sarcasm, that was for sure. Toji smirked, leaning against the counter. “Are you gonna act like that every time I open my mouth?” he called out to you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Or should I just get a ball gag ready for you every night?”

You scoffed at his suggestions, and tried to shoo him off. He was unbelievable. For a man who didn't wanna be tied down he's really committed to his role as the husband. You scanned him up and down, if it weren't for the fact he wa s apiece of work, you admitted he was pretty attractive. 

"Real immature. Are you sure you can keep up with me, old man?"

He chuckled, finding your irritation entertaining. “Who’s old?” He pushed himself off the counter and slowly stalked towards you. “If you think I’m old, you think wrong, darling.”

He reached you, putting a hand on either side of you on the counter, trapping you once again. He loomed over you, his face was nearly touching yours as he tilted his head slightly. “And I think I’ll be able to keep up with you just fine, wife.”

"I have a name, old man." You sneered at him trying to get away from him.

He was entertained with the way you kept trying to get away from him. But every time, he’d find a way close the distance. He liked taunting you, seeing you get all riled up.

He chuckled again, putting a finger on your chin and forcing you to look at him. “I know you do, darling,” he said, using the nickname to annoy you even more. “But I like calling you wife.”

All you could was frown at him, you continued to text on your phone. Checking messages and looking at old pictures. You looked at the ring again, and sighed.

“Who are you texting?” He asked, looking over your shoulder at your phone. “New lover you’re gonna hide from your husband?”

He pushed his body against yours, trying to get a glimpse of your phone.

"Get over yourself, Fushiguro." You snapped at him, "I have more class than that. I'm not one of your floozies."

He smirked at that, putting a hand on your waist and pulling you close to him, making you drop your phone.

“Floozies?” He was amused. “Are you jealous, darling? Are you scared I’m going to have women coming over night after night?”

"Why would I be jealous of a cocky old man?" You smack him away from you.

"Be so fucking for real right now."  You walk off in a huff to a different room and slam the door.

He let out a low chuckle and smirked at your reaction. He was pushing your buttons, that was for sure, but he was enjoying it.

He casually followed you to the room you stormed off to and knocked on the door. “Come on, open the door, *wife*." He purposely used the word again, knowing you’d get annoyed. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to lock yourself away from your husband?”

"Let's face facts, you obviously want your freedom, so why don't you just go?"

He pushed open the door and walked into the room, standing at the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“And go where, exactly?” he replied with a smirk. “I’ve been told by the head of the clan that it’s my duty to breed you. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not, darling.”

"Go stick your sword up your ass, geezer." You hug your knees and just look away from him.

He chuckled at your words. “Is that anyway to talk to your husband?” he replied, his voice taunting.  “What a filthy mouth.”

He pushed himself off the bed and walked towards you, grabbing your chin in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “Watch it, *wife*. I can punish you for that attitude.”

You move yourself away from him once more. You weren't in the mood for this bullshit. You give your husband the middle finger and stepped out the apartment for a while. He watched you storm out with a smirk. It was too easy to rile you up, but it was also kind of fun, messing with you.

He got up and walked to the window, pulling the curtains back slightly so he could see you. He didn’t plan on letting you stay out for the rest of the night, but he would at least let you cool off first. You wandered off into the nice, cool night. You looked around, and people were just chatting away, dancing and laughing. The work day was over for most people, as normal they were heading to bars and have some fun.

He watched you walk off through the streets of the city. He didn’t plan on letting you be out for too long. He wanted to see if you’d make an attempt to get away.

There were plenty of bars and other people around, and the thought of you sneaking off with one of them didn’t settle well with him. He couldn’t exactly blame you, he wouldn’t want to be with him either, but he was your husband now. It was his duty to keep you by his side and it was your job to obey.

You were alone in a bar, drinking your sorrows away. You hated this arrangement. But something about you seemed to attract a lot of unwanted attention. 

A few men in the bar had taken an interest in you as you sat there drinking alone. Their eyes were on you, their gazes lingering on your form. Some glanced at you and smirked, while others sent winks your way.

You decided to ignore the attention and drink away. You don't know why your "husband" always managed to get under your skin, but he did it a little too well.

The attention was starting to get annoying. It was obvious they were hitting on you, but you just wanted to drink alone and deal with your problems in peace, not be bothered by some lowlifes.

One of the men approached you, sliding into the seat next to you. “Hey there, beautiful. You alone?” he said with a smirk.

"Look, whatever you want, I'm not entirely interested at the moment." You dismissed them and looked at your drink.

It was a strawberry shortcake martini, your favorite. 

The man raised his arms up in a surrender motion, laughing at your response. “Just asking. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to chat up a pretty girl like you.” He put his arms on the counter and leaned on them, looking at you intently.

”You look like you can use some company, though. You don’t look very happy.”

"It's a long story. You wouldn't wanna hear it." You just muster.

“Oh, but I’m a very good listener. I promise, a pretty girl like you could tell me all her problems,” he smirked and leaned a bit closer to you. He clearly didn’t understand your dismissive attitude.

Some of his friends looked over, one of them whispering something to the other, glancing over at the two of you.

"I'm stuck in an arrangement with someone and I just wanted to enjoy the single life a little longer."

The man nodded with a hum, listening intently. “Arrangement, huh? Sounds like a shitty deal, being tied down to someone you don’t really wanna be with.”

He paused for a moment. “Who’s this person that has you tied down, if you don’t mind me asking?” He gave you a smirk. “Some rich old geezer?”

"Some asshole named Toji Fushiguro." You answered bluntly.

The man’s eyes widened slightly at hearing the name. “Toji Fushiguro, huh?” he repeated. “And he’s your husband now? Must not be that great of a guy if you’re drinking away your troubles.”

His eyes darted over to his friends at another table, who were watching carefully. They both seemed to be whispering and nodding to each other while glancing over occasionally.

"He's such a pain in the ass. I SWEAR." You continued to shit talk him, not acknowledging Toji's presence behind you. You then noticed the man you're talking to go pale.

"What?" You said to him

The man quickly looked behind you, seeing Toji now standing behind you. He paled and quickly averted his gaze, looking back at you.

“E-er, no reason.”

By now, Toji was clearly pissed off. He had been standing there for a while listening to you talking about how annoying he was and his hand was clenched into a fist.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's just an asshole." You laughed still not knowing he's behind you.

The man in front of you laughed along with your statement, but it was a clearly nervous laugh.

Toji had enough of listening to you talk badly about him. He reached over and put his hand on your shoulder, grip tight as he leaned down over your shoulder.

“Don’t you think that’s a little rude, wife? Calling your husband an ‘asshole’.”

"OH—" You yelled out and fell from your seat. You felt your heart beating out your chest.

Toji caught you before you could actually fall to the ground. He chuckled at you, an arrogant grin over his face as he held you against his chest. One of his hands was gripping your waist to keep you up while the other held your shoulder.

The man in front of you looked at the two of you, clearly startled and intimidated now that Toji had appeared.

"JESUS." You yelled out,

"Thanks for the heart attack—"

Toji smirked at your words and pulled you closer to him. He wasn’t gonna let you keep bad mouthing him to other people.

“Sorry, princess. But you really should watch what you say.”

He nodded his head to the man you were talking to, who was now just staring at the two of you. “You shouldn’t talk about your husband l like that in public, right?”

"You don't even like me, why do you even CARE?" You raised your brow to him.

“Care?” Toji laughed at that, pulling you a little closer to him as he spoke.

“Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean you can go around bad mouthing me, darling.”

He put a hand on your cheek, eyes looking down at you with a mocking gaze.

“I’m your husband, now. And I have a reputation. So you better keep that pretty little mouth of yours from calling me an ‘asshole’ again in public.”

"If I don't?" Your arms were crossed still waiting for some type of result.

Toji’s smirk only widened at your question. He leaned down more near your ear, hand still grabbing your cheek as he spoke lowly.

“Try me, wife.” His tone darkened, a hint of a warning in his voice. “Go on. Call me an ‘asshhole’ again.”

You leaned in closer to him and doubled down on that promise.

"Ass..hole." you said as a sly remark.

Toji’s grip on your waist and cheek only tightened at your words. His eyes darkened and he let out a scoff.

”Oh, you’re really pushing my buttons, you know that?”

His voice was low, almost a growl. His lips were near your ear and his hand on your cheek moved to grip your chin, forcing your head up to look at him. You glare at him, and all he had was that a shit eating smirk on his face. The way you wanted to humble this man was atrocious. Before you could say or do anything he threw you over his shoulder and just stared at the man you were just chatting with.

You were kicking and yelling at him to let you go. You then notice as he started working, he was walking towards a bathroom.

The man just stood there as Toji picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. He was a bit in shock, watching as Toji began to walk towards the bathrooms.

You continued to kick and yell at him, attempting to get away from him, but he just held you firmly.

He pushed open one of the bathroom doors and walked into it before kicking it shut behind him, locking the door for privacy.

"What the hell are you—" your sentence stopped as his lips violently crashed into yours. You were in for a shock.

His lips were rough, pressing against yours with force as he grabbed you tightly. The suddenness of the kiss completely caught you off guard, and his grip on you showed he wasn’t letting up.

He pushed you up against a wall, pinning you, and his lips only pressed harder into you.

You tried desperately to pull back, but you felt him bringing you back.

He only continued to press you against the wall, pinning you with his body. His hands gripped your hips and held you tightly, not letting you get away.

The kiss was rough and aggressive, his lips pressed hard against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth and claiming it.

The more you pulled back, the more rough he got, eventually you just let it happened. He groaned against your lips when he felt you stop resisting, his tongue claiming your mouth still. His grip on your hips got tighter, body pressing against yours as he began pushing his thigh in between your legs.

It felt like one second you were clothed, the naked you were bent over in the stalls. You could feel his length and girth slowly going inside you. He groaned and growled as he bottomed out into you.

"Fuck.." he groaned to you.

Toji’s thrusts were slow, but packed a forceful thrust. Your moans  and skapping skin were echoing the bathroom, he had a firm grasps of your hips as he just watch your ass jiggle for minutes.

"What's the matter, wife?" He asked you as he pounded deeper into you. "You're awfully quiet, no shit talking?"

The faster we went, the more he got to see your ass jiggle. At this part you were like putty to him. You watched as he switched positions and you felt like you were going to explode. Toji groaned loudly as he unloaded inside you. You felt his  warm seed inside of you, you were speechless.

Time had passed, and you were the first to come out the bathroom, your clothes a bit messy, but you basically got yourself prepped and ready.

Toji followed after you shortly, his clothes also a bit messy, but he looked relatively collected. He ran a hand through his messy hair and watched you.

“You know,” he said, his voice a bit low. “You’re a lot more fun when you lose the attutde, wife.”

"Shut up." Was all you could muster, but also couldn't help but feel your cheeks heating up.

Toji chuckled at your response, a smirk over his face. “You’re still so feisty though. You never give in, do you?”

He stepped closer to you, putting an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. He leaned down close to your ear, his voice a low whisper. “But I do like that cute little flustered look on your face.”

All you could do was groan in embarrassment, as he laughed it off and took you home.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu @lowkeyremi

[cakelitter]

Sweetheart Club

Professor! Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: dirty talk, pet names, p in v, thigh fucking, semi public sex, age gap, mentions of exhibition, cheating (not on reader), angst with a happy ending

summary: “You wanted to talk, professor?” he turns around and faces you, placing down the papers he’s holding on his desk and taking his glasses off. “Yeah, mind explaining the absences?”

words: 2.2k

a/n: prof Leon is rotting my brain, this is a technically a part 2 for "A+" but no need to read the previous chapter to understand the plot of this one. Enjoy!

You’ve kept your promise to yourself.

Slipping away from the comfort of his broad arms and continuing on with your life like nothing happened. Like a couple of weeks ago your professor wasn’t whispering sweet nothings into your ears while he stroked your hair; plotting a gentle kiss on your forehead as post sex sleepiness overtakes your senses.

You ignored his texts and calls, skipped his classes for weeks; all to keep those blue eyes don’t lure you in like they did the first day you met. You focused on yourself, burying your head between assignments and tests; keeping any thoughts of him at bay.

Crazy how you used to live like this, now you’re making effort to make things go back to the way they were. Was life always this cold away from his embrace?

Wish you could say that you didn’t miss him, him and his stupid jokes, and his stupid soft air, and his stupid mellow voice. The three crow feet that would appear on the corner of his eyes every time he smiled, and the mole on his neck burned into your memory.

 Wish that you could say that he’s no good for you. That he’s a horrible person that ruined you, that you feel like shit because he treated you as such, maybe if he was like that, you’d have an easier time moving on. But that’s far from the truth.

He was softspoken and gentle, giving you his jacket when it’s cold, buying you gifts and holding you close till you fell asleep. How are you supposed to hate the hand that showed you nothing but love and affection?

Either way, it had to be done. Funny how a ring around his finger still left a bitter taste in your mouth no matter how sweet his presence in your life was. Maybe you should’ve talked to him about it—told him how it made you sick to your stomach, seeing him go back home to another woman after he had been worshipping the ground you walked on.

Well, aren’t you technically the other woman? After all, the one he goes back to is his wife on paper, regardless if he loves her like a husband should or not. The guilt is staring to overshadow any of the blossoming feelings he planted in you.

You’re not disgusting, not the kind of women that get off to the idea of stealing another’s man. Not the kind to go around parading your relationship like you won the lottery.

That’s not you.

If you knew better, you would’ve never gotten involved in this. Would’ve kept your legs closed and mouth shut. But you didn’t. And now, your balls deep in a mess you willingly created.  

Taking in a deep breath, you step into his class, mixing in with a group of students and sitting down in the far back. Whether you want to see him or not, you have to pass this class. Taking any more absences will affect your GPA, this course was hard even when he was personally tutoring you for his exams. Reading the notes that your friends took while they’re half asleep are not doing you any good.

You see him, eyes fixated on his laptop waiting for more students to arrive. Your heart is already beating out of your chest and he hasn’t even looked in your direction yet. You mentally scold yourself for yearning for him, feeling all the progress you’ve made in hopes of moving on going down the drain.

Does he even want you back anymore? Your brows furrow at the possibility, what if you were just a pawn in his game, chewed you up and spat you out without even glancing behind. Yeah, you pushed him away. But with each passing day, you looked forward to see that missed call notification pop up on your phone.

 A few minutes later, he gets up and starts explaining, his eyes falling every now and then on the empty seat where you’d usually sit; completely unaware of your presence.

However, that was short lived when his eyes finally lock with yours. Your heart drops, anxiousness overtaking your senses as you try to not let it show. He keeps looking at you as he explains, his expression hard to read, unable to tell what’s going through his mind before you look away.

Enchanting blue eyes snap back to you between pauses in his explanation, pools so deep you feel like you’re suffocating.

Coming here was a waste of time, your thoughts drowning out the voice around you. It looks like your GPA is going to drop whether you attend or not, might as well keep whatever is left of your dignity and stop showing up.

The sound of people packing their bags and leaving snaps you out of your thoughts.

 Biting the inside of your cheek, you begin packing your things as quickly as you can; wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. But as you’re about to get up, his voice calls your name. “Please stay for a second, we need to talk.”

Shit.

How do you always find yourself in these situations? He’s not even looking at you, eyes scanning through papers he’s holding as he waits for the class to empty.

Not a single bone in your body wants to talk, actually that is a lie. You do want to talk, just not about what he has in mind.

Maybe you can just sneak out the door? No, he’ll probably just follow you and you’d end up embarrassing yourself. Pretend to have an emergency? He knows everything about you, that would never work on him.

What if you just jumped out the window? He’d never expect that. But the both of you are going to hell, so you’ll meet eventually. Fuck, there is no escaping this.

The room eventually empties, leaving only the two of you. Honestly, the sooner you get it over with the better. Just rip off the bandaid and tell him that it won’t work.

‘No Leon, we cannot fuck anymore. You’re married, act like it.’ See, plain and simple.

Getting up, you walk over to where he stands, feigning confidence like you weren’t spiraling two minutes ago.

“You wanted to talk, professor?” he turns around and faces you, placing down the papers he’s holding on his desk and taking his glasses off. “Yeah, mind explaining the absences?”

Ok, we’re starting off professionally, interesting. “I was having some complications.”

“With?” he immediately retorts, voice becoming more agitated closing his eyes in frustration. “I-”

“I send you texts, I call you, I send you a fucking email, and you don’t respond.” Yeah, there it is. “You skip my classes, and fall off the face of the earth for almost three weeks. Do you know how fucking worried I was?”

His voice softens at the last part, this is honestly the first time you’ve seen him this pissed. He takes in a deep breath looking up at the ceiling, loosening his tense muscles. Stepping closer towards you, his large hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing the skin soothingly.

“Sweetheart… why are you doing this to me?” God, that pet name rolls off his tongue so perfectly, your knees are about to collapse. You look up at him, noticing the worsening state of the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Leon, I- We can’t keep doing this anymore.”

His gaze softens, hand stilling its movement. “Do what?”

“This.” you gesture at the hand on your cheek. “Leon, you’re married. You have a wife, and you’re out here fucking your student.”

Your throat tightens as tears begin to brim on your lash line. The words you spit out feel like venom, inflicting pain on the two of you. “I don’t know what’s the situation with your wife, and every time I bring it up, you end up changing the subject like what we’re doing is normal.”

Warm tears drip down onto your cheeks, your voice shaky as you attempt to compose yourself. “I love you, so much. But I feel fucking horrible every time I remem-”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“...what?”

“I’ve been considering getting one before I even met you. Meeting you showed me everything I’m missing. My relationship with my wife… has been honestly nonexistent for years now, and I know that doesn’t justify what we’re doing but-”

“I should’ve done it sooner. I’m sorry, baby.”

He smiles softly, his thumb wiping away the tears that cascaded down your face. “You still mad at me?”

Relief rushes through your body, the heavy feeling of guilt slowly being lifted off your shoulders. Your head leans against the hand brushing through your hair; your smile mirroring his.

His face inches closer towards yours before finally connecting your lips together. Never realized how much you’ve missed his lips, till you tasted them again. The kiss is sweet and slow, your hand reaching up and resting against this jaw, his rough stubble scratching against your soft hand.

Grabbing you by the hips, he pulls you closer till his chest is flush against yours as he mummers against your lips, “Missed you so much, sweetheart.”

You giggle, connecting your lips once more. This time, the kiss is deeper, his tongue brushing against yours. The hand on your hip guides you towards his desk, his mouth latching onto your neck, leaving kisses and bites across the sensitive skin.

“Please, touch me.”  You whine out, grabbing his forearm and leading his hand over to one of your breasts. Groaning, he sneaks his hand beneath your shirt, groping the soft tissue through your bra. Your fingers tangle through his thick hair, your other hand clutching his bicep.

“Turn around, and take these off.” He hisses in your ears, his finger hooking the waist band of your pants, letting go of the material and letting it snap against your skin. Doing as you’re told; your hand fumbles with the buttons before pulling them down enough to expose the wet patch on your underwear.

Cursing beneath his breath, his hand cups your mound, the digits rubbing against your swollen clit as his thumb teases your entrance. “So fucking sexy.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan, his hand moving to the fat of your ass, spreading you open for him. You hear his belt getting undone, and it doesn’t take long before you feel the tip of his cock smearing precum over your thighs.

“Close these thighs for me, sweetheart.” Your head turns around slightly to look at him, a happy trail running down from beneath his white shirt, leading to a trimmed bush above his thick cock. Your eyes linger on it, tip shiny with precum and veins traveling up it���s length. “Leon, please.”

His fucks his dick between your thighs, the tip brushing against your warm clit causing you to move back into him. He lets out a moan, his head tipping back as his fluids coat your panties, making the material stick uncomfortable to your sobbing cunt.

Squeezing your thighs together to get more friction, a breathy moan escapes his lips as he holds your hips firmly. “Yeah, yeah baby. Just like that.”

“Leon, I want your cock, please.” His hand sneaks below you, rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I know, I know. Just gotta make sure this little pussy is soaked when I stuff it full of my cock.”

Leaning in he kisses your jaw, his other hand cupping your breasts as he whispers into your ear. “You’d let me play with you, yeah sweetheart?”  

You nod eagerly, gipping the desk below you; shifting your attention the warm feeling blossoming between your thighs.

Deciding he’s had enough, he slips your soaking panties down, placing one of your knees on his desk. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Leon centers his tip at the opening of your hot cunt, collecting more arousal before bullying himself into you.

You let out a yelp at the stretch, resulting in his hand clasping over your mouth as his hips begin to thrust into you. “Gotta stay quiet, baby. Can’t have anyone walk in and see you getting this pretty cunt stretched out like this, yeah?”

The idea causes hot arousal to shoot across your body, your walls pulsing around him. “Fuck, you’d like that? Want someone to see you getting cockdrunk on my dick?  See how well you take it?”

Your mind imagines every word he’s saying; simply thinking of how dirty the sight must be is enough to send you over the edge. You thrash around beneath him, pussy pulsing around his thick length earning a moan out of him.

He begins to chase his own high, hips slamming against yours, the grip he has on you is rough, enough to leave a bruise. Your body goes limp, hearing him whisper incoherent praise into your ear.

“So good for me.”

“So fucking tight.”

“Pussy made for this cock.”

Moments later, he reaches his own release as hot ropes of cum coat your walls. You hum at the warm sensation, watching him pump into your spent cunt a few more times, before he eventually pulls out with a low hiss; cursing beneath his breath as he watches your mixed releases ooze out.

Before they drip any further, he grabs your underwear; pulling it up and leaving a soft kiss on your hip with a reassuring pat. He fixes himself up and helps you look as proper as possible. “I think I just missed my lecture, thanks to you.”

“Forget about it, got three weeks’ worth of concepts to make up for.” He smiles, arm pulling you closer to him. “Gotta make sure to pound those points in before finals.”

divider by: @d-oie

[lewisvinga]

his lucky charm | carlos sainz x fem! reader / daughter

summary; even during the most stressful moments of football, carlos needs his good luck charm, his 6 month old daughter, in his arms.

word count; 630

warnings; ? idk pero hala madrid siempreeee

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; [requests are closed] I HAD TO DO THIS😫 i’m weak for madridista carlos and i saw a video of a guy holding his daughter while watching benzema score a penalty and it reminded me of carlos ! but also, el clásico win tdy w bellingol winner tho🤭🤭🤭

masterlist !

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“Carlos, you know you can set her down in her crib, right?” Y/n asked again for the second time in 10 minutes, looking at the sleeping baby in her husband's arms.

“Ahorita no, mi amor.” [not now, my love] Carlos quickly shushed his wife as he kept his eyes on the screen.

Sometime around the second half, he had picked up little Catalina in hopes it would calm down his nerves over the Real Madrid and Manchester City match. However, when the match went into overtime, his nerves just became worse.

He was so nervous that he couldn’t help but rock back and forth which made his daughter fall into a deep slumber in his arms. It made Y/n laugh to herself. She was a fan of the Madrid-based team but not to the extent of Carlos who lives and breathes Real Madrid.

Her father-in-law even made a joke once that the Sainz’s bleed white, the team's official color. Sure, she was nervous because it was a knockout match for the top competition of club football but not nervous to the extent of her husband.

“Carlos, I really think you should put Catalina down before-“

“She’s my good luck charm!” Carlos exclaimed, holding the 6-month-old close to his chest. She even was wearing the white Real Madrid kit his father gifted them when she was born, making her even more of a ‘good luck charm’

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes at her husband's antics. She gets up to go to the kitchen to grab her phone and a bottle of water. When she walked back to the living room, she saw him biting his fingernails and kneeling on the floor instead of sitting on the couch.

“Carlos, what are you…” Her voice trailed off. She wore a confused expression as he held a now awake Catalina in one hand and the other hand kept running through his hair.

“Penalties, mi amor! Penalties!”

Y/n sat back down on the couch and held her phone up so she could record his reactions. They were down to the last penalty, the 5th one. If Real Madrid made it then that means they would pass.

Even Catalina, who doesn’t even understand what is going on, was focused on the screen as #22 for the Madrid-based team took his spot. Y/n noticed her husband holding his breath as the player swung his leg back and kicked the ball. The ball makes it in causing her husband to let out a cheer.

Carlos immediately stands up to his feet and holds Catalina out. “Mi gatita! Ganamos! Vamos a los semifinales!” [my little cat! we won! we’re going to the semifinals!] He loudly exclaimed to his 6 month old daughter who gurgled in reply. “Te dije, Y/n! [i told you] She’s our lucky charm!”

He holds her close and leaves kisses all over her chubby cheeks. Catalina squeals at the sensation of her father's beard scratching her face. She plants her hands on his face as he continues to kiss her, letting out fits of giggles.

Y/n’s heart melted at the interaction between her husband and their daughter. She knew he’d make the best girl dad the moment she found out she was pregnant. She was right, he is the best girl dad.

She couldn’t help but burst out into laughter when she heard Carlos start to sing the anthem of Real Madrid to Catalina who kept gurgling at her father's antics.

Y/n stood recording and quickly uploaded the video of her husband and daughter to Instagram, captioning it ‘a Madridista and his lucky charm🤍 hala madrid!’. She knew people would immediately fawn over their favorite driver cheering to his daughter, but for now, she was just enjoying the show he was giving with his not-so-perfect singing.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eleven

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None. Gwyn and Y/n bond over books. Azriel and Y/n get even closer — this had me kicking my feet and screaming internally and externally

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Rhysand’s training sessions always started with him sliding over ten objects: a book, a piece of jewelry, an article of clothing — anything he could find with meaning for you to discern.

“This one is Mor’s.” You held the red satin box in your hands. Two months ago you would have only been able to tell him who it belonged to. Maybe nothing at all. The meaning held by the object was weak. The jewelry too new. Unworn. But now you could harness your power with more precision, like you’d finally been handed an image of the puzzle you were trying to complete so you knew what to look for. “You bought it two months ago at Cizero’s as a Winter Solstice gift.” 

“And what is it exactly?” 

The box was still closed. 

You pushed your power forward, imagining light slipping in through the seam of the box. An image flashed in your mind. It was blurry, but held onto its form long enough for you to make it out. 

“Drop earrings. Rubies,” you said with a straight back before dropping the box into Rhysand’s open palm.

He smirked and clicked it open. Gold banded rubies hung from the backing like bloody tears, each drop separated by a diamond that flashed brighter than the stars in the ever darkening sky. 

You dared to smile, staring at the jewelry with a level of satisfaction you hadn’t felt since being handed top marks as an apprentice. 

“Very nicely done.” 

The box disappeared back into his desk beside a glimmering gemstone the size of your fist wrapped in tissue paper. 

It’s probably for Amren. You thought to yourself. Azriel told you she loved shiny things and hoarded her treasures like a crow. Hence why she’d yet to return from Summer with Varian. 

You moved on to the next portion of your exercises. With a feather light touch, Rhysand laid his hands on your palms, your wrists, your forearm, your shoulders. He moved up and down your body, waiting a minute for you to control yourself before touching the next flash of exposed skin. It was still difficult to completely contain your power, but you were getting better at moving it around your body. When he reached for your hands, you slid the magic up to your chest. When he reached for your knees, it moved down to your ankles. It was a delicate dance, like the curling of ocean water away from the shore or the splitting of a river around a stone. 

You did what you could to experience the touches with a clinical detachment and Rhysand did as well. He was careful. He stopped the moment you let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling of warm skin pressed against your own and there wasn’t an ounce of judgement written in his beautiful features when you trembled beneath his touch. 

“Take your time,” he said encouragingly.

For him, touch was a necessary part of life. He always had an arm slung over Cassian’s shoulders or wrapped around Feyre’s waist. He fell asleep with his mate pressed against him and he walked around the River House with Nyx on his shoulders and Velaria curled up in his arms. But there were also mornings when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, the feeling of Amarantha’s red-tipped nails dragging down his chest like she wanted to take more from him than just his body. Those were the days Feyre knew to give him his space. 

“Take all the time that you need.”

Rhys stepped away. You steadied your breath and took time to record your progress in the journal you kept close by. Although there was no true way to quantify your learning, your Day Court training never left you and you wrote down what little could be put into words — for posterity’s sake. Then maybe the next Clairvoyant the Mother willed into existence would have an easier time navigating this than you. 

Gwyn found you squirreled away in your usual reading room, back bowed over a flurry of books and note pages like a reed in the wind. You reached for the mug on the desk only to find it disappointingly empty. Unlike the River House, the Library did not fuel your caffeine addiction with reckless abandon. 

She floated over, abandoning the cart of books she’d been tasked with returning that night. Her legs were throbbing from the split squats Cassian had coached her through that evening, and she was desperate for a break. 

“Some light reading, I see?” she teased, sinking into the seat across from you. 

You looked up, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. It took a few moments for Gwyn’s shape to come into focus. 

“What?” The word slurred coming out of your mouth.

She tapped the ever growing pile of papers beside you. Your manuscript: 120 hand-written pages and counting. When the book became too frustrating to handle, you abandoned it in exchange for another productive task. Even if the 120 pages you’d reproduced were utter garbage.

You groaned, forehead slamming against the wood with a clatter. Thoughts of white blood cells, lymphatic vessels, and innate and acquired immunity knotted in your brain like the world’s worst game of cat’s cradle.

Gwyn would have found it amusing if she didn’t know just how much time you spent within the mountain. You’d effectively been adopted by the priestesses. Lurking here and there like a cat coming in from the cold. And you were just as disapproving as a stray. Gwyn would often catch you among the stacks, mumbling about the disorganization and how you couldn’t work in such paltry conditions. 

“Cauldron boil me, I’m sorry for asking.” Gwyn raised her hands in surrender. 

You let out a great, heaving sigh. “It’s not you.” 

“Oh I know it’s not me. You look like you’ve been dragged through a gutter.” 

You blinked wearily at the lovely priestess.

“A very clean, well-managed gutter.” She grinned. Her skin shone, reflecting the pale, fuzzy moonlight that filtered through the window above and doused the library in a silver sheen. 

“Thank you, Gwyn.” 

“Anytime.” She drummed her nails against the table, the beat of it almost sending you to sleep. “How long have you been here today?” she asked with concern.

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“After midnight.” 

“Oh.” 

“How long?” Gwyn repeated and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“Seven hours? Give or take?” Your stomach growled. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

Gwyn grabbed you by the end of your robes, tugging you up several floors and down an unfamiliar hallway until you stopped in front of a teal-blue tapestry. Selkies, sirens, and water nymphs dove in and out of rippling waters highlighted by iridescent beads. She flung it to the side and pressed her hand against the bare stone. The slab sank into the wall and then slid open to reveal a cream-colored room adorned with bundles of babies' breath. 

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the neatly made bed. You swayed dangerously on your feet. 

“I’m really fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

“Sit. Down.” She cut you with a lethal gaze Nesta would be proud of. 

You snapped your mouth shut, shuffled across the carpeted floor, and sank into the queen-sized bed. You played with the ties of your robe wrapping them around your finger, then unwrapping them, then wrapping them again.

King Tiberion, third of the Nachmanian line, born Aschieron Cambria Nostrus Tiberion Dalgna to Effel Taul and foreign-born…

Found dead at a young three-hundred-and-ninety-two years of age at the hands of her brother. Spell cleaver or not, Ingrid…

Something like a lock and a key. Magic that’s perfectly complementary might be afforded the unique ability to seal… and break… gods I’m tired… 

There have only been seven recorded Shadowsingers in history: Lovania Vallant born 895 in the age of Alders (see ref. 18992HBG Carstairs), Gherald Dashiv born 1459 in the age of — 

Gwyn snapped her fingers in front of you, pulling your mind out of the hurricane of thoughts. You were a strange creature. You spoke little, moved about the Library as quiet as a mouse, and you had an interesting habit of running your fingers along every book on the shelf. Back and forth, back and forth you’d run along before jerking to a stop like one of the books had caught you at the end of a fishing lure. 

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Some would say that’s a good thing. It would make me incredibly trustworthy, at least when it comes to responding to things. I’d be terrible at keeping secrets, unless I was very careful about how I went about things. You know how it is. With the things.” 

Gwyn huffed with silent laughter and opened one of the cabinets in her small, makeshift kitchen. “Eat.” She commanded again and you were too slow to catch the sleeve of biscuits she tossed in your direction. It bounced off your forehead and landed in your lap. “I’ll be right back with something more substantial.” 

The door shut with a puff of air and you were left to chew on the chocolate and orange biscuits in silence. 

Gwyn’s room faced the city and you saw the lamplights burning through the windows that had been cut into the mountain rock, mimicking the stars that twinkled overhead like salt poured onto black glass. 

Cream satin sheets caught the moonlight until it glowed and you had the sudden urge to tip back and fall into oblivion. You could work for a long while, so long as you didn’t sit still long enough for the exhaustion to catch up to you — which you were doing now. 

You shoved another biscuit in your mouth, now almost halfway through the sleeve. It helped settle the hollowness in your stomach so you could pick yourself up and move over to the bookshelf. 

Bodice ripper, bodice ripper, murder mystery, bodice ripper, romantic comedy, found family adventure, spy thriller, bod—

Your face went red. Damn.

The priestess chose that moment to return to her room carrying a tray laden with bread, orange slices, and a thick mushroom stew leftover from dinner. She froze, pale cheeks turning a dusty rose as you silently pushed the book back onto the shelf. 

“Dragon-born? Really?” You shoved a burning spoonful of stew in your mouth and drowned the stale crust of bread, waiting for it to get sufficiently soggy enough you could chew it.

Gwyn groaned and buried her face in her pillows. “It was a phase.”

“Must have been a very long phase. You have the whole series and I know it took her thirty years to write them all.” 

Her head shot up. “How do you know?” 

“I read the first book.”

You sat up straighter, back pressed up against the closet that housed her daily robes, ceremonial garb, training gear, and Valkyrie armour. 

“So how can you judge me?!” 

“It makes no anatomical sense, Gwyn!” You threw your hands up in the air. “She’s four feet shorter than him. He’d sooner tear her in half before giving her any pleasure, and I’m not talking about his claws.”

The priestess scoffed. “Have some imagination, Y/n.” 

You huffed and pulled out a notebook from your ample pockets. You both spent the next thirty minutes going through hastily drawn sketches that would have disappointed Feyre to no end testing out your imaginative capabilities. Gwyn couldn’t stop smiling at you as you moved your hands through the air with animated fervor. Half of what you said didn’t make sense, but she would blame it on your sleep deprivation. 

You had Gwyn in stitches. The female hung off the bed, red-brown hair brushing the ground as she gasped for breath. You looked like you were sitting on the ceiling, black robes pooled around your knees like shadows. 

That sobered Gwyn up a bit. It was a real shame she liked you as much as she did. It made it harder for her to stay mad at Azriel.

And as if you read her mind, you asked, “Why don’t you come around to the River House?”

“What?” She wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“Why don’t you come to the River House?” You asked again. “You’re close friends with Nesta. You’re part of the Inner Circle. You have a guest room there, but I haven’t seen you at the house.” 

“Do you even spend enough time at the River House to know?”

“Yes.” 

Gwyn sighed and straightened up, folding her legs neatly beneath her on the bed. “Some… Some things happened a couple years ago. I won’t bore you with the details and I don’t know if I even have the right to tell you everything, but it’s colored the way the Inner Circle works now.”

“The details are the most important part,” you murmured, “I wish I had more details. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a stranger in that house.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Gwyn reassured you. “Is that why you spend so much time here?” she asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Yes and no. It feels closer to home here. Even if your lack of organization has made my job ten times more difficult. I don’t see why you haven’t adopted any kind of classification system. It’s a small library. It would be very easy to implement.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Gods, you were tired. The feeling came and went in waves. “I shouldn’t complain though, everyone has been incredibly kind and welcoming. Especially Azriel.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers fluttering against your shoulders. You tucked your chin into your elbows and tried not to think about that glorious night of sleep with only Azriel and his shadows. Waking up with his chest rising and falling on the floor beside you.

You were falling for him and you knew it. Gods did you know it. Or maybe you could convince yourself you weren’t falling yet, but it was a steady march to the cliff’s edge and you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

Gwyn felt her heart stutter. “Oh? He’s usually so… quiet and… reserved.”

You thought about it for a long while. 

“I don’t think he’s nearly as quiet as everyone believes him to be,” you said thoughtfully, “I think he just speaks in his own way.” 

 You were right about Godswood and The Gallows. 

The letter arrived on your desk early in the morning. 

The Bookkeeper, Taunum Hyst, was found trying to burn books in the western greenwoods along with some texts from Argot’s. He fought back against the guards sent to retrieve him, but he didn’t know what he was doing. Even now he’s confused and adamant that the last three weeks have been a blur. There’s a daemati at work here. Someone other than Henna. Rhysand knows, if he hasn’t already told you.

I’ve sent a translated folktale in old Bauldish and Common, and another in Demnyon along with the others you asked for. They might be worth looking into to help with the book. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Night Court. Happy hunting and stay safe. 

~ Helion 

You were right. 

You dropped the letter, hands coming up to your mouth as you took in a deep, shaky breath. You knew Taunum Hyst. You could picture his salt-grey braids and coal-black skin. He’d helped perform the funeral rites for your mother. Hell he’d managed to make you laugh that terrible day. 

 Your stomach turned. If there truly was another daemati left in the Day Court that could help explain the killings. Either the Librarians could have died trying to keep the knowledge in their minds safe, or the daemati had made them kill themselves before moving onto their next victim. You didn’t know which was more tragic. 

The clock rang eleven bells and you hastily folded up the paper, dropping it into the box along with the rest of your father’s letters.  

“I think this might be the first time you’ve ever been late,” Rhysand said with an amused smirk. He leaned against the doorway to his office, ankles crossed over one another. Did that male ever stand normally? 

“It is the first time.”

“Of course you would know that.” 

You smirked, pushing open the door to find—

“Azriel?” 

The Shadowsinger stood with his hands neatly folded behind his back. “Y/n?”

“Cassian!” The Lord of Bloodshed leapt in front of his brother, arms spread wide. “I’m also here. Nesta couldn’t make it with Valkyrie training.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes with affection. She reached for Rhysand’s hand without thinking and he accepted with barely a glance. They were two magnets, always pulled towards one another in space.

“What’s going on?” You glanced back and forth between them all. It had always been just you and Rhysand during these lessons. 

“I thought it would be good to start practicing with other people when it comes to physical touch,” Rhysand explained. Azriel’s nostrils flared. “You’re getting comfortable with me, which I’m happy about. But I want you to get comfortable with everyone else too.” 

You told me you wanted another debrief about the Mortal Lands. Azriel was loath to admit that just the thought of touching your hand was making his heart race like a schoolboy. 

And I do. Rhysand said rather smugly, as if he already knew Azriel was freaking out inside. But I also know you wouldn’t have agreed to this if I asked you ahead of time. It’s amusing to see you like this, brother. Have you forgotten how to touch a female? His violet eyes glittered with mischief.

Azriel swallowed, eyes trained on you as you mulled over Rhysand’s comment and nodded. You wanted to be comfortable too. Comfortable in your body. Comfortable with other people touching you.   

You thought of what it might feel like to have Azriel’s hand tucked beneath your chin, not just his shadows, and shivered. 

Azriel nearly choked when you started undoing the ties of your robes. The gold embroidered fabric slipped off your shoulders in a soft hush that had Azriel going rigid. You wore traditional Night Court fashion beneath your Librarian robes — a tight black shirt revealed the gentle curves of your arms, the cut of your collarbones against your chest, the thin band of flesh around your stomach; a breezy skirt with slits cut into the sides that revealed flashes of your thighs with every movement you made. 

Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian all shared looks, nearly bursting out laughing at the way Azriel’s shadows were in flight around him. A swarm of bees buzzing and murmuring about how beautiful you looked. 

Azriel had seen many fae in his time in various states of undress. He’d seen males and females in the Court of Nightmares parade about in scraps of silk and lace. He’d taken countless lovers to bed. Bodies were something he knew well. Something he knew intimately. But he had never felt so flustered as he did looking at you like this. He thought his heart might just burst in his chest.

Cassian elbowed Azriel in the ribs when you weren’t looking and one of Azriel’s shadows looped around his ponytail and pulled. 

“Ow.” Cassian rubbed the back of his head with a grin. “Rude.”

You felt rather ridiculous standing in the center of the room with your arms and legs stretched out to the side. 

“Right arm,” Rhysand called out. 

Cassian bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists held loose by his sides with the lightness of a male a quarter of his size.

You squinted. Is he… is he about to punch me? 

Cassian read the alarm on your face and grinned, hitting you with a tap gentler than rainfall. 

You snorted, but felt nothing. Perfect.

You had to be grateful for Cassian’s light-heartedness. He had the worry melting off your shoulders. With every limb that Rhys called out, Cassian would do a little dance before punching you or kicking you. At one point he even faked a blow to your face, spinning up to you before leaping into the air and shooting out his right leg. You didn’t flinch as his boot swung an inch away from your face. You could smell the rubber soles of his boots. 

“You missed,” you teased. 

Cassian pouted, turning around to walk back to the wall now that he was finished with his piece. Azriel looked ready to tear his head off his body. 

You’re lucky you missed. Azriel’s eyes screamed across the room. You’d be a dead man if you hurt her.

Cassian winked and blew him a kiss.

Feyre was next. You practiced brushing against her like you would do in a crowded street complete with the obligatory fumbling of apologies. 

“Oh good heavens.” Feyre fanned her face like the old, upper-class women in her village used to do and laid on that sickly sweet accent they all had. “I’m so dreadfully sorry.” — They never were. 

She shook your hand and touched your shoulders and looped her arm around your waist. That was the part that had you worried. You slid your power away from every inch of your skin, wrapped it up like a secret, and held it deepin your chest. 

“Good.” Rhysand smiled and Cassian punched the air. 

You breathed deeply and gave a small bow like you’d just finished a performance. But there was still one person you were meant to touch today, and they made you the most nervous of all.

Azriel stepped forward, a picture of calm. Inside, he was raging like a storm. He kept his hands firmly grasped behind his back, wings pressed so tightly he felt his shoulders start to ache. 

You took a step forward as well, tilting your head back to look at him. You felt the grip on your power falter when he held out his hand palm up like he was asking you for a dance. Months ago at the Summer Solstice ball you’d been approached by a number of males hoping for a song with their hands at your waist and at your shoulder. The prospect of that kind of touch had terrified you then, and it still terrified you now but for different reasons. Because this time, you wanted it. 

You wanted him.

You gently slid your hand into his, feeling the scars roll beneath your soft skin like the mountains that surrounded Velaris. Your breath caught in your throat, but before Azriel could rip his hand away you held on and squeezed reassuringly. 

You’d read hundreds, if not thousands, of romance novels in your time. You’d consumed them with a ravenous hunger, surviving on them when real touch felt like a hopeless dream and the loneliness became too much to bear. And in nearly every single one of them, the first touch between lovers was described as an explosion of color. A dangerous shaking of the world down to its foundations. A cataclysmic event. 

But you were surprised to find that they were wrong. They were all wrong. Azriel wasn’t destroying anything. He was mending. 

It felt like a re-centering. The shifting of a leaning tower so it stood upright again. 

A blissful silence. 

Azriel cradled your hand in his, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. He couldn’t help what he did next, couldn’t have stopped himself even if Helion stood at his back with murder in his eyes. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand with such reverence, such tenderness, that you swore your heart was glowing in your chest.

“Why don’t you try a hug, Y/n?” Rhysand suggested when Azriel had straightened. “If you want.” 

You looked down at your feet where shadows swarmed, and then up at Azriel.

“What do you say, Y/n?” Azriel murmured softly. His words were for you and you only. “Where would you have me touch you?” His hazel eyes caught the light before scattering into a thousand brilliant colors. 

Wordlessly you ran your fingers down his arms, tracing the shape of the muscle beneath the leather. You held his hands and gently led them up to your waist, gasping when he made contact. His warm fingers brushed the exposed skin of your waist before sliding around to your back. 

You balanced on the tips of your toes, looping your arms around his neck before resting your face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like leather and the mountains. Wind and rain and nightfall coalescing into something so uniquely him you could pick him out in a room of thousands with your eyes closed.

It started out as a loose, misshapen thing, your hands and his arms searching for the right grip to hold your bodies together. But once you found it, you were lost.

Azriel wrapped his arms around your back and waist, hands splayed out like he was absorbing you into him. And you were no better. You buried your face in his neck, lips pressed up against the curve of his throat so you could feel the rhythmic rush of blood through his veins. 

He refused to be the first to let go. The roof could cave in. The floor could drop out from beneath your feet. He would not let you go. 

Your tears started out slow, coupled by ragged, shallow breaths. 

“I’ve got you, Y/n,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve got you.”

How long had it been since you’d been held like this? A hundred years? Two hundred? You thought you’d learned to live without it, but now that it was yours you didn’t think you’d ever, ever be able to give it up. You were at the cliff’s edge now and without an ounce of hesitation you flung yourself over and into the abyss.

With Azriel, controlling your powers didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. Later that evening when you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you realized you hadn’t been thinking of control at all.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all... THEY FINALLY TOUCHED EACH OTHER! And not only that, BUT HE KISSED HER HAND!!! And! They fucking HUGGED!!!!

[rkivedpages]

❛ CALL OUT MY NAME ❜ ♱ ོ⁩ ABBY ANDERSON

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name ( call out my name, baby )

‎ ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name when i kiss you, so gently

PAIRINGS: top!abby + blkfem!reader

SUMMARY: you haven’t been sleeping well, you can’t think straight and you didn’t even have the stomach to eat most days. all because it’s been way too long since you’ve seen your girlfriend.

WARNINGS: 4.6k, [contains nsfw wlw content, m+mdni 18+], angst, smut, vulgar language, intimate sex, shower sex, making out, crying, hair pulling, fingering [r!receiving], oral sex [r!receiving]

J4Y SPEAKS — this was way longer than i expected but, here ya go lol

𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓! + 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐓𝐋𝐎𝐔/𝟐! + 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒!

wanna stay updated? welcome to j4y’s taglist!

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ a bright strike of lightning crashed against the night sky, seconds behind it, the boom of thunder that shook the building. aches and pains sparked through your body, a knot forming in the middle of your shoulders irritated you as you stumbled through the empty hallway. the sounds of your wet footsteps echoed, accompanying the off and on sounds of the leaky pipes no one has been able to fix since settling down here. you looked over to the right, glaring at the few fish that were left swimming around behind the glass. the water grows more green and dirtier by each day, and more fish die in the tank and no one could stop it.

outside, the heavy rain continued to fall. the water proceeded to mix with the dry dirt, making the runny mud you just came back from trudging through.

your arms not quite touching your sides, your cargos sticking to your thighs and calves in uncomfortable places. a black tank top dripping with water, your nipples pebbled through the thin materials of your top and sports bra. the once white shoelaces trailing behind the loose shoes on each foot. holding onto the damp strap of your backpack, you drug it along with the rest of your rain doused clothing. your curly hair is riddled with dirt, rain and sweat — maybe even a little bit more than that. a strained gulp of saliva struggled to slide down your throat when you came closer and closer to the room you shared. dreading to see it empty once again.

muddy footsteps left a trail for anyone who wanted to find you. easily.

scratching the bottom of your chin, you threw your head back to mindlessly walk towards the closed door, finding the strength to twist the gold knob open. reaching to the side, your cold fingers skimmed the wall to find the flat light switch. the room was emitted with the light, the bed messy but the messy you left when you left early this afternoon. you stared at the dark gray sheets crinkled on top of the mattress, the pillows everywhere but the head of the bed.

your hands balled, fingernails digging crescent marks into your pale palms before you let go and dropped the backpack in one of them. hearing the bag hit the ground, you began to slide the thick boots off of your feet, bending down to position them at the door by your other shoes. you sniffed the snot running down your mouth, feeling like your body is coming down with something as a result of the harsh weather that kept most of the group from going outside.

going over to grab your towel and the bar soap in the cubby by your bed, you wanted so badly to drop on the bed and let it all out—the tears, the heavy breaths. but you were dirty and needed to wash the dirt, sweat and sadness away.

though it doesn’t seem like the sadness would go away any time soon.

your eyes simply fell shut on your way towards the showers, the squishy feel of the wetness between the toes of your socks. left more footprints leading to the showers when you let another shaky breath slip from your dry lips.

more downpour spouted from the dark sky, pelting against the side of the building and the trees scratching against it as well. you wanted to stand outside and get drowned out by the cold rain, but the minute you stood still, your friends wouldn’t allow that to happen. claiming that you would’ve caught a nasty cold if you stayed outside any longer. but what good is being in good health if you don't care about it? if you didn’t care whether you got sick or had stamina like an ox? you’ve been on a three week schedule of heading out and looking for her, finding nothing and coming back to an empty room, with an empty bed and you sleeping with a full heart.

you then reached the showers, throwing your towel over the glass door right before you began to undress, tossing your damp clothes onto the floor beneath your cold feet. the soggy socks came off next, pulling on top of the mound of discarded clothing, your naked body now cold and ready to get this over with and go to sleep this night away. stepping in, you immediately started the water, flipping it to the closest hottest setting it can reach without blowing the hot water out for anyone else. you walked into the water pouring down over you, covering your body in warmth and settling the goosebumps riddling your limbs and back.

you looked over at the bar soap sitting sadly on the small seat in the corner of the shower. reaching over for you, you started to lather the fresh scent over yourself. foamy soap suds ran down your arms and down your back as you rubbed the small piece of bar soap over your skin. the start of the warm water cradled in your arms, you placed the bar back down to finish washing the suds off.

in the next minute or so, it will be a full three weeks since you’ve seen or heard anything from your girlfriend. three weeks ago, you would send her off on another normal run with a smile on your face and a long kiss that was placed on your plump lips. her hair tucked neatly into the braid that you did, her backpack full of snacks and her boots laced tightly, along with the blue shoestring that came from your shoes tied in with hers. just so she doesn’t forget to come home to you. even though she never forgets anything when it comes to you. tears welded your eyes shut at the mere thought of her not coming back into your arms. on the fourth day, you were a complete mess, not coming out of your room, snapping at anyone who even tried to give you the time. it wasn’t like abby to take more than three days to come back from a run.

it wasn’t right.

she was supposed to come back home. she was supposed to be waiting for you in the room on the bed and in the room that you two shared. but she wasn’t there every time you entered through the door.

every day you went out to look for her, you always came back with nothing. aside from the one time you came back with a torn piece of the jacket she left in. that broke your heart into pieces, sending you into a downwards spiral from there.

it was rare that you talked to someone. if they didn’t have any whereabouts of abby, you didn’t want to hear a thing coming out of their mouth.

your salty tears mixed with the hot water that burned your skin, but it wasn’t like you really cared about the temperature in this state. you ran the water over your hair, wetting it and freezing there. you didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to get out or turn the water off—you just wanted to stay there and let out everything you had built up.

there have been some days where the only thing you would see through the day would be the four walls of your room. the same posters, the same workout routine abby had on the clipboard at the end of your bed, the dumbbells that abby owned, the shoes that lined up at the end of your door. you didn’t want to see any of those things anymore.

mindlessly, you nibbled at the soft knuckle on your right hand, staring off into the distance of the shower tile that covered the wall you stood in front of. the sound of the heavy bathroom door opened, shutting behind the person that supposedly came in and walked along the slippery flooring. it snapped you out of your slump, finally paying attention to the little fog that the boiling hot water made, as it filled the stall you stood in. you turned your head every which way, left and right, up and down, just to listen to the weighty footsteps walking around the bathroom, over the tile and walking up to stop somewhere near the stall you occupied. your eyes darted over to the wall where the shower seat was embedded, as quickly as a knock came crashing against the opaque shower door.

“occupied.” you spoke meekly, tightening your arms around your naked and soapy body, the soap suds have now washed off, leaving only the sleekness of the water running over your skin. gulping, you then heard another knock collide into the door, heavier the second time.

heart beats pounding behind your chest and skin, your arms dropped a bit from the tightness of you hugging yourself. “i said it’s occupied.”

a minute passed by, it seemed as if the person couldn’t hear or tell that you were even saying anything to them. you didn’t have the guts to look back at the door, to see if the person was still standing behind the door, to see their legs peeking underneath the large space under the door.

you heard the sound of the boots move, the footsteps faded a bit, probably moving to a different stall, a small ruffle of clothing being removed over the harsh sounds of water against your ear. a rush of relief came and went when you thought the person was finding another stall to use, but that was only before you heard the door of your stall open and close, indicating that that person is now standing in the same stall as you. your lip trembled, going to bit it to stop it from moving so much and your body tensed up at the thought of being in the same stall as someone you probably barely know. “please.”

“please what, baby?” a raspy and amber voice emitted from behind you, your eyebrows fell into a certain position and your arms fell fully to your sides, your lips parted as you took in another big breath before slowly turning around.

that voice.

when you turned around, your eyelids were heavy when you opened them back up to see who was standing behind you. she was covered in scratches, probably from the bushes and tree branches, a massive bruise formed on the top of her shoulder, all while she was beginning to take her hair down from the loose braid it was kept in. a shudder took over your body and you could sense the tears forming on the waterline of your brown doe eyes. you watched her dirty brown hair wave up from being in the braid for so long, her face looked so tired and worn out from the long-lasting run she just came back from. you reached out your hand, feeling the tips of your fingers brushing up against her skin just to make sure that seeing her and feeling her were real and not just a hallucination from you missing her. she brought her hand up, grabbing at your wrist and pulling it up her face as she puckered her lips out and kissed the palm of your hand, the tears in her eyes swelling as well as her pulling your body close to hers. “abby.”

“hi, sweetheart.” she mumbled, her other arm snaking around your smooth waist and pulling you flush against hers. not caring that she’s dirty and bruised, you didn’t care that she smelled outside, you have her back in your arms. she reached up with her other hand, moving a curly piece of hair out of your face, so you could see her a little bit better. more so, so she could see the entirety of your gorgeous and tired face. tired because of all the long nights you wished she was there next to you, wrapping her large arms around your body, wanting to smell her scent in the middle of the night and you couldn’t. you were so tired of missing her and waiting for her to be home, that you deprived yourself of sleep because you wanted her to be safe so badly and were praying that she made it back to you.

“i missed you.” you watched her gulp in your wet appearance, peering down at you and taking in everything she hasn’t seen in three weeks, her thumb rubbing over the skin on your lower back while you reached up and grazed your fingers over the purple and green bruise covering over her freckled skin. the cuts riddled over her face and cheeks, you steadily rubbed over them like she didn’t feel a thing, though she was mentally flinching at the subtle touches of your fingers while she rubbed your cheeks with her thumb.

“i. . .missed you too.” a couple of tears fell down your cheeks, mixing in with the hot water spouting from the shower head. you pulled the both of you further back into the water, to where abby was now being drench under the hot liquid, her hair color darkening from it and the dirt from her body washing off and down the drain of the shower. you reached over and grabbed the bar of soap, skimming it over her skin, creating the clean suds that you did to yourself, she sighed in pleasure at your hands rubbing over her body, abby’s eyes dropping at the euphoric feeling. dropping her arms to her side, she allowed you to do everything for her, not because you needed to do everything, just because she missed the feeling of your fingers over her skin and being in the presence of you. she could feel the burning of your eyes on her as her eyes struggled to pry back open to get a look at you, but she had to force them to open, not wanting to miss a moment of looking at you.

soon, the dirt washed off of her body and rinsed down the silver drain, along with any dried blood that covered her as well. the cuts and nicks washed out before they could get any type of infection from being caked in mud and anything else from the outside. silence filled the air of the close stall, surrounding the two of you in it comfortably, as you both stood leaning up against each other for more warmth than you probably needed. abby began to smell like you, the more you rubbed the soap into her skin and the more she rubbed against you. she finally pulled away, boring her sapphire blue eyes into yours, they faded over to a darker blue, breaking the eye contact to get a quick glance of the water droplets dripping from your plush and parted lips, her stare on your lips had gotten longer and longer too the point where she wasn’t even looking into your eyes anymore.

abby leaned down, her muscles sore from the strenuous activities she endured, they tensed as she craned her neck to level out with your face and brace her lips centimeters away from your own. you rushed your fingers through her wet hair, combing through it just to take handfuls of it and press her face into yours, colliding your lips with hers. a gutted grunt filled the space from her, a hearty moan erupted from your throat when you got to taste her again, the same taste you missed when she left you for three weeks. your eyebrows furrowed when she pushed the both of you over, arching your back and body into her as you felt her calloused hands grip every inch of skin she could get them on. you two walked backwards into the tile wall, next to the seat as you continued to messily move your lips against one another.

pressed into the wall now, abby’s hand rubbed down the side of your hip to your thigh, latching her fingers onto the back of your thigh, pulling it up to rest on her hip. moaning at the way you felt against her, you could only feel the heat coming off of her and not the heat of the water anymore while she locked her other hand on the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to hers if that was even possible. carelessly, you started to grind your wet pussy onto the air, desperate to feel something touch you. you were desperate to feel her touch you.

she pulled away, lips red from being smashed against yours, her eyes filled with lust and neediness towards you. the grip she had on your thigh was harsh, her nails digging into your supple skin with intent. “can i show you how much i missed you?”

there was nothing in your head to prompt you to say no to her question. “yes. yes, abby, please.”

she took the chance to kiss over your face, gathering a giggle that slipped from your lips. reaching your jawline, abby’s kisses became more sloppy, filled with more love and more care, more spit she placed on your skin with the water rolling down you skin. you could also feel the hand that was latched onto your thigh slip further upwards, closer to the place where you needed her fingers to touch you. abby’s tongue slipped out past her lips, trailing up and down the side of your neck, you couldn’t at all help release the moan building up in your throat. she continued to assault your neck with her wet tongue, latching her lips around the spots she licked over and over. abby pulled away to look at the masterpiece she made of you and your neck, you felt her fingers graze over your wet opening with a small smirk on her face knowing that she did that to you. “abby. . .”

abby took ahold of your face in her free hand, puckering your lips out and leaning in to kiss them again, this time, harder than the first. her tongue moved past her swollen lips, groaning once more at the taste of you and something flipped inside of her. the animalistic tendencies took over as she deepened the kiss, swirling her tongue around your mouth and rubbing her against yours. you could feel the indents of her nails on either side of you face when she took control of the kiss. you just followed along. she pulled away once more, with your bottom lip in between her teeth before she released it with a pop. abby licked her lips, watching you intensely when she dipped her middle finger into you a couple of times, all the way to her knuckle just to pull out and circle your clenching pussy for fun. “please what, baby?”

“what do you want from me?” you tried to pull her closer towards you, if possible, you dug your nails into her lower back with pleading eyes, you looked up at her, you wanted-need to feel her.

“i want you to fuck me.”

abby stopped the movement of fingers, her ocean blue eyes bored into your head with the slow smirk that appeared on her lips when she pulled away fully. you watched her place a singular kiss upon your collarbone before she dipped down on her knees, feeling the wet tile underneath her. the deep thump of her hitting the floor just made it feel real for the first time in ten minutes. you took in a harsh breath, sealing your lips closed when you watched her lift you leg and rest it over her shoulder, staring up at you with the most vulgar look in her dark eyes,the feeling of not seeing you for half a month was really overtaking her brain.

she rolled her lips in, moving her hand back and forth against the skin on your thigh, tilting her body forward the start placing small but lingering kisses on the skin that she rubbed previously. her eyes still bored into yours.

her head close to your heat, eyeing it before she looked back up at you, catching a glimpse of how much it dripped with anticipation. how much it missed her and her touch. the tip of abby’s nose nudged your clit, moving it around to hear another quick moan fall from your mouth. “abby. please, i need you.”

“oh, such a needy girl.” abby smirked, taking whiffs of how you smelled, the fresh bar of soap scent taking over.

you bit your bottom lip, just wanting to feel her mouth on you. “ don’t do this, abbs.”

abby’s lips straightened out, continuing to move her head back and forth, enticing the feel on your clit even more. you began to rock your hips back and forth just to get more friction, but you could also feel abby grabbing your hips to halt the movements they mindlessly made. “how much did you miss me, sweetheart?”

you dropped your head backwards against the tile wall of the steamy shower. “abby, i-”

she cut you off with her middle finger circling your entrance, hissing when she felt you drip down her forearm. “how much. did you. miss me. sweetheart?”

“so very mu-” abby wrapped her plump lips around you perked up clit, sucking on it like a straw as she still circles your entrance, feeling you desperately wanting to clench around her fingers. you raked your finger through her wet dirty blonde hair, grasping it to keep yourself grounded, especially when she dipped her finger past your walls. her finger drew back slowly, pulling out almost at the tip until she slipped in another finger, fastening the pace just as quickly as she sucked on your clit.

abby continued curling and scissoring her finger inside of you while you pulled on her water absorbed locks, the stinging feeling against her scalp pushed her to go further in lapping up everything you had to offer her at the time. sticking out her tongue, abby licked your now puffy clit, with her eyes on your contorting face. you felt the harsh little smack she gave to your thigh, wanting you to look into her eyes as she brought you to the brink of coming undone. your breath shaky and uneven, trying to conceal your sounds if anyone were to come in and hear you two. thought it’ll be just you being so loud.

even on her knees under you, abby noticed how quiet you were trying to be and she hated that. she wanted people to know who was making you feel so good, which made her tear her fingers away after coming to a complete stop and giving your clit one last lick before taking her tongue away also. “abby.”

“shh, i know, baby.” abby went in for another kiss, sloppy like the one before, she eyebrows knotted as she reached over your hips and down your ass. groping the plush flesh and kneading it to her liking, probably likely to leave a bruise with how hard she was gripping.

you felt abby’s hand flip you around, pressing your front to the cold tile, your nipples rubbing against it as you sucked in another breath. abby trailed kisses down the side of your neck and over your shoulder while she ghosted her fingers over your hips and pushed you harder against the shower wall. you reached behind you and placed your hand on top of her head, moaning at the little feeling of her lips again.

abby slid her left hand in front of you and her right hand behind you, her fingers rubbing over different spots simultaneously. the fingers on her left hand found your puffy clit once more, rubbing it in large circles while the fingers on her right hand found your wet hole again.

“shit. you’re so wet.” she mumbles, her brain so occupied by the euphoric feeling on her fingers that she didn’t even mean to say that out loud. the sentence alone made you wetter than before, if it was again possible. she dipped them into you wetness, copying what she had done beforehand, dipping her middle finger in and pulling it out to the fingertip and adding another finger. all while still setting open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. “i love how easily i can slip my fingers in you.”

your other hand gripping the top of the shower wall and the other hand still entangled in abby’s hair, your nails digging into her scalp so painfully good, according to her eyebrows that stayed knotted. her fingers never once moved in their spot, they sat there gathering more of your wetness while abby carried on with the kisses she wanted to put on you. the needy whines and the push back of your ass on her fingers gave her more than enough go head to start pumping her fingers into you.

abby removes her hand from your clit to bring it up and tilt your head backwards so she could watch your pretty face turn up at how she’s making you feel, before finding her place back on it again. the circles becoming tighter, firmer.

she moaned at how hard you were clenching around her fingers, wanting more from her and just wanting her to make up cum as hard as you can. “oh fuck, abby!”

“fuck, yeah. call my name out again, baby.” you feel the tip of her fingers bump your g-spot over and over again.

“abby, i-i’m-” you could barely think words anymore from the stimulation on your clit and abby thick fingers dancing inside of you. the steam from the water that was still spewing from the shower head and the exhilarating feeling of abby made you dizzy. your head swaying from side to side, not knowing what to do or say next. everything was getting to your head.

you couldn’t see the fat grin on abby’s face when you said what you said, since your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back on her shoulder.

she watched you with hawk eyes, from your bitten lips to your bobbing throat, she mentally jumped to the roof for making you look a mess. “what was that? you’re gonna what?”

“i’m g’na cum, ab.” your finger harshly gripped the top of the wall for balance, though your grip was slipping, so was your sanity.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty. s’wet for me, wanting to cum all over my fingers.” abby’s fingers fastened in their pace, whispering dirty nothing in your ear while you felt the tight ball coil in the pit of your stomach as she felt like you needed to endure the harsh pumping. the circles on your clit grew tighter and tighter. “ask me if you can and i’ll let you.”

“please! abby, can i cum, pre-pretty please?” you chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes opening up to peer at abby who was already looking down at you with such admiration.

if it wasn’t for her and her heavy hands, you’d probably be face down on the floor because of your buckling knees and wobbly thighs that could barely keep balance, clearly unable to hold up your own weight in this state.

“of course you can, baby. cum all over my fingers for me.” the last pump was enough, abby could feel the absentminded clenches you gave her fingers as you let go, dripping down her fingers which were finally slowing down but not to a stop. your eyes still closed, you only felt the continuing pump of abby’s fingers and her hot lips setting themselves on yours. tempting you in another heated kiss, sloppy and full of spit, just to her liking.

the overstimulation of her fingers made you buck your hips, your hand still tangled in her hair, her hands still touching your sensitive areas. abby pulled back, her fingers finally stopping to take them out and slip them in her mouth, to steal the taste of you once more.

“i’m glad you missed me.”

© rkivedpages. j4y’s works are all reserved. i do not give permission to copy or publish my works on any other sites.

[castiwls]

tolerate it - a.s

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt; 'If it's all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow'

Requested; @simonsbluee

Notes;anakin version:) again all time fav cry song requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The sound of the door opening pulled your attention from the data pad on your lap. A small smile grew on your lips as you placed the pad beside you before standing from your seat. “Your back,” You grinned. “I didn’t think you were due back for another few days.”

Anakin pulled off his robe before turning to you, his grin just as bright. “We got back early.” He closed the distance between you both pulling you into a hug. You felt his arms squeeze tightly around your middle as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. 

Taking a deep inhale you felt your body relax in his arms. He was safe. After weeks he was finally home again. After a moment you pulled back. His arms still wrapped around your waist. “I missed you.” He spoke quietly, his eyes slowly tracing your face. 

“I missed you too.” You smiled slowly rubbing a hand through the back of his head. “How come you’re back so early?” 

“Some sort of diplomatic thing.” He let out a breath, rolling his eyes causing you to laugh quietly. You knew how much he hated anything which involved politics. In all the time you’d known Anakin he’d never been one for anything which involved long boring conversations.

“The charity ball?” He nodded his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your waist. “Yeah. How did you know about it?” He frowned slightly, a look of confusion filling his features. “I got invited to,” You watched as a small smile grew on his lips at the idea of not being alone. “Well. That should make this slightly more bearable.” 

You nodded thinking for a moment. “We could…we could go…together.” Your voice came out as a whisper. The thought was something which had been sitting on your mind for a while. 

Every event you were invited to end up with you having to go alone. It was always the same questions asking when you were going to get into a relationship if you had anyone special in your life. By this point, you had mastered the act of politely brushing off anyone who brought up the topic, but that didn’t mean that it never hurt.

It hurt that you were unable to share your relationship with the other people in your life. That you had to act as if Anakin was nothing more than an acquaintance when you met him in public. You knew getting into this relationship that there would have to be sacrifices, you never expected anything less. But sometimes you wished that he would have enough trust in you to share your relationship with those closest to you.

Anakin let out a sigh, his gaze moving down to your feet. He pursed his lips slightly, looking back up. “Angel, you know we can’t…” He moved a hand to gently cup your check. “If the council found out about us…I don’t know what they’d do.” he frowned to himself as he spoke, his gaze seemingly growing distant for a moment before he re-focused back on you.

“I can’t risk them finding out.” He rubbed a thumb across your cheek. You kept your face passive as you stared at him. 

Sometimes your relationship felt almost one-sided. You felt committed to him in a way that he could never commit himself to you. While you knew Anakin was by no means in love with the order and their rules you knew he was still committed. You came second.

The thought had you swallowing, trying to push back the sudden rush of emotions that ran through you. “Fine.” You pulled back from his hold before walking back to the main room. Anakin sighed following closely behind you.

“Are you seriously gonna do this again? You know why we can’t do that. It would put my rank at risk!” He stopped as you turned to face him. You jabbed a finger into his chest. “You. You. You. That’s all it ever is. Do you ever think about what I want?”

“Of course, I think about what you want. You are the most important person in my life!” He reached out to grasp your hand. He lowered his voice as he spoke. “Which is why I can’t lose you.”

You rolled your eyes letting out a quiet breath. “You know, sometimes I feel…I feel like you don’t even love me anymore.” You felt your lips quiver slightly as you swallowed back tears. “Like you're only here out of obligation.” 

You watched his face drop slightly. “Of course I love you. You’re my wife.” He stepped closer, his thumb slowly rubbing circles over your palm. “Then why are you so scared of telling the people closest to us that we’re married,” You pulled your palm from his grasp feeling a tear slowly slip down your face. 

“There’s dinner on the table if you want it.” You whispered before walking towards the bedroom.

You could hear him calling after you but you simply ignored it slamming the door behind you. Slowly you sank to the ground, your body shaking slightly as sobs began to fall from your lips. 

You’d stopped feeling loved a long time ago. At first, you’d believed that the feeling was simply in your head that you were just having doubts about your relationship due to how new it was, yet those doubts never seemed to go away. 

And Anakin did nothing to quell those doubts. Taking a breath you placed your chin on your knees, staring at the bed. You never imagined the man who you were supposed to love unconditionally and who was supposed to love you back could leave you feeling so unseen in your own relationship.

[sourprada]

Possessive mommy wanda clubbing with you for the first time. She’d be a menace.

It wasn’t news to anyone that Wanda was the possessive one of the relationship. Sternly glaring at anyone who dared to talk to you when she was holding you by the waist. When you agreed to spend your friend’s birthday on a club, wanda was skeptical about the idea but seeing you in a short dress, barely leaving anything up for imagination, made it up for her.

Until she remembered she wasn’t the only one seeing you like this.

Wanda regretted the idea the moment she stepped foot into the club, her mind playing tricks alluding her to think everyone was looking at you, automatically stiffening her posture. You noticing this, clung to her side the whole night — until the drinks started coming— being the light drinker of the group had its perks, getting drunk with two cocktails was one of them.

The drinks kept coming and the heat started to rise within you, the alcohol consuming any restrictions you once had. Dancing became easy and teasing the infamous Wanda Maximoff came naturally. It started innocently, light touches in the back of the club turned into a full grinding in the middle of the dance floor. Your ass purposely brushing against her crotch making her grunt in your ear, ring clad fingers harshly gripping your waist closing any distance between your bodies, and that’s when you felt it. The hard shaft poking you through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Keep this little show going and I’ll have no problem putting you in your place in front of everyone”

“I bet you’d like that, getting your pussy stuffed with everyone watching how much of a dirty whore you are”

Wanda had a dirty mouth every time she fucked you, she mastered the power of getting you wet and needy just by her words. And it worked. Your breathing was ragged and legs shaky but the alcohol was still hot and heavy inside your mind, you still had the bratty within you. Turning around with pouty lips and doe eyes, you looked up at her, circling your arms around her neck, making the first and worst mistake of the night — “but wands, I’m not doing anything. It’s not my fault you’re all sensitive and can’t take a little heat”— if looks could kill, you’d be 6' feet under by now. Wanda was red and fuming, she didn’t think you had the balls to say something so bold without thinking about the consequences. Oh there’ll be consequences. In seconds you were being dragged across the club in direction to the bathroom, her short nails digging against your flash making you wince. The bathroom door was closed with a bang and she wasted no time in attacking you neck.

“After I’m done with you, I’ll make sure you come out of this bathroom so full of my cum, you’ll feel it drip from your legs every time you walk”

And she did just that. Wanda pounded into you, until she had to hold your form between the sink and her body so you wouldn’t collapse. Squelching noises filled the room while she abused your cunt from behind, fist full of your hair stinging your scalp, “that’s what you deserve, bunny. Sluts only learn when they are full of cock.” Shame long forgotten, your moans echoed through the whole room, louder and louder each time you got closer to climax

“Beg to cum. Come on, slut. Beg”

Wanda complied her promise. She left you full of cum and put your underwear back on.

“There you go, bunny. Don’t worry, when we get home I’m gonna make sure you suck mommy’s cock clean”

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Wife: The Duck Dilemma, Resolved

Joel Miller x F! Reader

not necessary to read but here's Part 1

Summary: Joel explores new ways to get the Ducks out of the Miller house once and for all

- - - -

When Joel wakes up, there's a blurred yellow fuzz thing—a fucking duck—standing on his chest, staring down its brown and yellow stained bill right along his own snout and directly into his soul.

"Dinner," he grunts with a sneer.

The little duckie utters an unbothered quack and hops off to the side. If only to its death over the cliff of his bedside edge. Only not so, for Sarah, who's standing by his side of the bed, scoops her up safely in her careful grasp. She leans on her tip toes and kisses Daddy on the cheek, and then holds the duck expectedly to his face with her big beady round baby eyes.

He grits his teeth, his chest grumbling with contained annoyance. 

His daughter, the light of his fucking life, only leans closer to him, Duckie held high with expectant gleam. Letting out a quick sigh, he makes quick work to peck its fluffy little self on the forehead. 

And one by one, he does so for all 6 ducklings she raises up to his lips carefully. He’s kissed more duck heads than he’s ever wanted to in his whole life now. 

She sets the last one down on the floor and walks away, a trail of 6 duckies following her with their aide to side waddles.

How she and you came up with the names Eenie Meenie Miney, Pickles, Pringles, and Presto, he will never ask. They all look exactly the same but somehow Sarah can tell them apart. 

Although, Sarah has called them EE, MEE, My, Picole, Pingle, Pwesto.

God Bless her.

“This one is Pringles—no wait that’s… that’s uh. Eenie? Wait Meenie?” You’re holding three in your arms, lifting them closely, trying to find the identifiable marks you’ve used as cheat sheet to remember them. Failing miserably. 

“Pwesto!” Sarah clarifies, stomping her foot and taking her baby duck back into her arms. They always nibble at her ear lobes, causing the little child to erupt into giggles.

“She’s making it up, I swear. She doesn’t know which ones are which…” you whisper to Joel.

“Just admit you can’t keep track of your hoard of children you keep bringing into this house.”

You frown. “I want 12 more kids from you. So lift your skirt and get to baby stuffing,” you say snakily, slapping his ass.

He sips his coffee with massive bags under his eyes as two ducks sit on top of the stove.

Some thoughts, albeit as brilliant as they are, would get him sent straight to hell. Like the one swimming in his brain at the opportunity right now.

He glances to the left, then right, then slowly reaches for the gas igniting knob along the stove top. Directly below the unsuspecting ducklings…

Threatening growls come from the floor below. He rolls his eyes and backs off with his hand in the air to show retreat, as fearsome Mommy number 2 (3?) Spoon here comes to save the day.

“Ya used to be on my side, lady,” he hums to the dog.

And it’s true. Spoon didn’t know how to react at first. She went from single pet baby sitting a little girl to being swarmed by 6 freaky little two footed flap flaps, the weirdest looking puppies she’s ever seen. When they crowded and yapped incessantly around her, she kept picking her feet up and backing up to avoid them, but they all just kept coming at all angles all over. At one point from sheer curiosity, she hesitantly puts one in her mouth.

 Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs and pointed to Spoon accusingly.

 "Yes good Spoon! That's good girl!" Joel claps quietly. He knows you two wouldn’t blame innocent Spoon if she accidentally ate a duck or half dozen. 

Unfortunately, Spoon does not like the sensation of the duck eating out her extra snack crumbs sitting in her teeth, instantly spitting the little guy out like a bowling ball. She jumps on the couch to avoid the rest, and they all flail helplessly trying to reach her. 

By the next day, Joel prayed maybe Spoon decided she wanted a late night duck-goulash and had swallowed his 6 new problems. Instead, you found the ducks nested tightly against Spoon’s body, sleeping into her heated belly like her own little babies.   "Cmon girl not you too,” Joel says, but Spoon growls at him  when he tries to take them away. She doesn't mind when they yap and tap, just lies down with them peddling all over her body and head, sighing in defeat.

"Did we just make Spoon a mom of 6 overnight?”

 Duck Duty has taken over the house 24/7. 

When Joel goes to the shower, pulling back the curtain, there's duckies paddling in the tub.

He has to empty his shoes before stepping in them because, lo and behold, a damn duck is in there.

There’s more frozen pea bags in the freezer specifically labeled for each duck than he can fit his pizza pockets in there.

“THATS IT!” He barks loudly when you and Sarah are tucking the ducks in his bed sheets for a movie night.

You all, including Spoon and all the duckies, go quiet and look up. 

Except, instead of finishing a statement, that is it. Joel storms out of the room the next moment, leaving you all sitting speechless.

Two seconds later you turn on the TV and all eyes focus on the screen to resume your movie night like normal.

-

Joel disappears in the garage for 3 days. You called Tommy asking if he was going to work, but Tommy told you he had called to let everyone know he would be unattainable for the weekend. Absolutely NO ONE was to disturb him. You could hear sparks and saw blades flying in the garage, heavy banging and all kinds of construction going on. Maybe you should be a little concerned. He hasn’t done anything else but this. 

You rub your hands together, braving the knock on the garage door. Maybe you had gone too far with the ducks. Was he preparing to build himself a new house to live away from you all? A death trap for the ducks to fall into?

A new wife???

You tighten your ass cheeks and raise your knuckles.

The door swings open before you can pound. A sweaty, dirty, musky, saw dust covered Joel Miller, with messy slick hair, flannel and low hanging jeans complete with his decades old tool belt greeted you with gritted teeth.

“S’done,” he says plainly.

“W-what’s done?”

He takes your hand and leads you out. “Sarah! Ducks! Fall in!”

Sarah hops off her chair that she was braiding her doll’s hair. As she follows behind you, all 6 quickly growing Duckies  follow behind her like a pre-school hand holding chain.

You all round out the now empty garage and towards the backyard gate. He opens it and shoves forward.

Part of the backyard and side of the house has been transformed into a Duck Oasis Paradise. A custom built duck house with heating lamps, fresh bedding and smoothed wood adorn the area, with a water fountain and splash pad of fresh water constantly rippling their own little Duckie pond/pool. Each duck has its own feeding station, and even custom bed slots with “Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Pickles, Pringles, Presto” hand painted for their own bunks. There’s a raised mini bed for Sarah to lie in with a canopy so they can cuddle and watch projector movies outside. Joel had even installed a side door that leads into the garage if absolutely need be they MUST come inside once again. Everything is painted to Sarah’s princess house liking, and she is able to sit inside the and play around the area while it maintains its Duck-necessities.

As if she had just met the real Santa Clause, Sarah screeches excitedly and runs around with the ducks to explore their new home.

Joel’s hands are on his hips, smirking proudly at your reaction.

Your mouth is on the floor. When the FUCK?? HOW the fuck??

“You thought I was gonna cook em’ didn’t ya?” He boasts.

“I —wushhshh pshhh—N--ta—nmmm-pshhh.” You don’t have words to try to deny it. 

“Ah huh.” He points to his cheek … well, cheekily. “C’mere and give it ta me.”

Inserted, you grip his face, turn him to face you, and plant your entire mouth on his, swallowing his lips and his entire body if you could.

He grins and kisses you back. 

“When are you going to put this much effort into putting another baby in me?” You tease while curling his hair.

He’s left quite shocked, and is about to suggest the two of you stow away while the kids are occupied until—

Sarah runs up like she’s about to pole vault and launches herself into her Dad’s arms for the biggest hug a todler can muster. Joel bends down to his knees to return her kisses.

And that would have been it, were it not for the duck that’s immediately in her hands, held right to his cheek.

“Ugh,” he groans with rolled eyes. He holds it all in as Sarah lifts them to nibble at his beard stubble in a duck fashioned kiss, each getting a turn to clean his facial hair.

You clasp your hands together, beaming at possibly the greatest man the earth had ever put out.

She runs off with the ducks following to go play with their new land.

“2 adults. 1 kid. 1 dot. And 6 ducks…” he says, referring back to your previous comment. “That ain’t enough for ya?”

“12.”

“12…?” Were you serious about 12 kids????

“Ducks,” you state plainly, avoiding his eyes.

“Wh—what, are they all pregnant?” He asks incredulously.

“No…” you lock your fingers together, sealing side to side in the way Sarah does when she’s admitting to doing something horribly wrong. “I thought you were going to eat these ones… and I didn’t want Sarah to be sad and so I … maybe… it’s actually really funny, Joel.”

“YOU BOUGHT—SIX—MORE—DUCKS???”

“Ohh oh no!” You shake your head, as if hoping to dissipate the steam billowing from his ears. Though it’s almost like he knows it’s not any better. “Um… it’s way worse… I bought 12 more ducks. So that’s 18 total,” you smile widely with fearful yet innocent eyes.

Joel sits straight up in bed, his heart hammering and sweat persperating along his entire skeleton.  He clutches his heart, remembering to breathe in the night air, grounding himself in his surroundings from the nightmare. You’re sound asleep at his side, peaceful as ever.

He tosses the blanket and darts off to Sarah’s room. His girl sleeps just as innocently as you, with her teddy clutched under her arm. Lying atop her fuzzy pink decorative rug is Spoon, who raises her head curiously at the intrusion. He does a quick search, but nothing else moves in the room.

Joel runs to the backyard, foregoing any shoes. Despite no evidence in the house, he doesn’t get his hopes too high. He flips on the lights of the duck barn (which was not a dream), and braceshimself.

While he would have liked to have seen 0 flat footed peddling little yellow shits, a mere 6, and ONLY 6, ducks rest in their designated bed, tilting their head at him staring them down.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a relieving breath.

“Thank fucking duck.”

- - - -

Taglist : @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

[shares-a-vest]

While my shoulder has been fucked up I've been watching a lot of football AND sports commentary shows, which I have found myself enjoying??? As always, I've kept the actual sports ball details vague seeing as I barely know American sports.

Eddie walks into the living room to find Steve on his feet and standing far too close to the television. He has the phone to his ear and his shoulders are tensing.

"I cannot believe this," he says to Robin, who Eddie knows is on the other end of the line and probably just as agitated.

She must say something Steve vehemently agrees with because he nods, all stern and vibrating in agreeance. But he soon scoffs, holding the phone away as the Sportsman on the television says... Something about something baseball-related.

Steve swooshes his hand through the air in disapproval.

"Rob, are you hearing this asshole?"

The oven dings and Eddie decides to take his chances and step forward. He tip-toes quietly, making sure to keep his distance as he moves into his husband's field of vision and boy, is Steve mad about... Whatever tonight's Sports Problem is.

It's a big enough to-do that it is being discussed on (Eddie knows this much) Sportscenter.

Steve's frown deepens and his mouth down-turns to a cute – albeit grumpy – pout that has only become more accentuated with age and wrinkles.

"Dinner," Eddie mouths, adding an innocent, wiggling hand wave.

Steve props a hand on his hip and nods at him before he turns his attention back to the television. He heaves in a breath and now Eddie frowns. Because yeah, sure, Hellfire still gets his heart a-fluttering every once in a while, but these days he and the boys carry out quieter, more laid-back campaigns that would make their former selves gasp in horror.

And, Sport Problems, or not, he doesn't like the idea of Steve getting so worked up that he's wheezing.

"Rob!" Steve scolds in disbelief down the line, "What? Ugh, fine... Fine!" he looks at Eddie, "My dinner is ready too... Alright! Call me back... Mhmm," he pinches his nose, "Yes, I'll do the three-way call thing with Sinclair instead... Fine! Okay, bye."

He ends the call with a forceful pressing of the Talk/End button and murmurs to himself, practically sneering as he shoots the panel of sports commentators a look.

"Okay-p," Eddie says, clasping his hands together as he decides to charge for the remote.

He points it at the TV and gleefully reduces the group riling up his husband's undead universe-induced asthma to black nothingness.

"Calm down, Stevie-bear," he says, discarding the remote on the couch so he can rub at his back, "No more Sportscenter for now."

"But, Eddie, can you believe –"

Steve cuts himself off as Eddie loops an arm around his middle and leads him to the four-seater dining table.

"I know your hip is too bad for you to play ball these days, sweetheart, but you gotta calm down," he bargains, relieved when Steve's breathing begins to even out, "Dinner time is our quiet time."

"Yes..." Steve glances around.

Eddie narrows his eyes the moment he realises his partner has located their iPad on the breakfast bar. He tilts his head, hoping to block Steve's view of it and they soon become engaged in a silent stand-off despite standing in the middle of their living space attached at the hip, arm in arm.

It only stops when Steve purses his lips, no doubt readying himself to bring out the big guns and say something with the deadliest of bitchy lilts.

"Nope," Eddie says, chopping his hand through the air, "You're not rewatching that... play you are so cranky about on the iPad. I'm sure you are right about it anyway."

Steve says nothing. Hell, he probably saw straight through that ever-so-slightly condescending attempt at deflection. But Eddie can't bring himself to be all that worried about his tone as some very real panic sets in at the sound of the pot on the stove bubbling up a little too much.

He detaches himself from his partner, thinking that ruining dinner and taking Steve away from the television will start up a World War III, the likes of which he hasn't seen since the time he brought a stray cat into the apartment, who promptly hid in the closet and pooped in Steve's new Nikes.

"I am right," Steve says, all perky and chipper now as he pulls out a chair, "Can you, uh... Do the, uh..."

He trails off, looking at the phone's keypad and gesturing to the buttons.

Eddie reaches forward and plucks the phone from Steve's hand.

"I'll set up the three-way call for you later," he says, reading his mind. He presses a kiss to his forehead and sets the phone down on the table, "Promise."

"Lucas will be ready to talk at – "

"Eight o'clock," Eddie nods, "Just in time for the replay, I know."

He pats Steve on the shoulder with reassurance. When his husband finally takes a seat, Eddie heads off to the kitchen just in time to salvage their dinner.

[pandorxxx]

Tamed

Neteyam (21) x metkayina fem reader (20)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, cursing, hair pulling, pinning, p in v, oral (for like 2 seconds), intense orgasms, (DOM NETEYAM AND IM NOT KIDDING), edging.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

“Bro, where is my fucking girlfriend, I’ve been trying to find her all day!” Lo’ak whined, trailing behind Neteyam as they walked towards the beach.

“Baby bro! Were you not listening when she said her and y/n had training all morning?” Neteyam chuckled, looking back at Lo’ak briefly before turning back around.

“I miss her. I just can’t get enough!” Lo’ak joked, fake crying with a hand over his heart. Neteyam rolled his eyes, laughing loudly.

“You just saw her last night!” Neteyam chuckled, gesturing calmly as he kept a steady pace in-front of his brother.

“Bro, do you not realize we lucked up on the hottest girls here! And they just so happened to be sisters?” Lo’ak sighed with joy, shaking his head with a smile.

“You’re soooo ungrateful.” Lo’ak spoke sarcastically, catching up to Neteyam.

“Oh, trust me! I’m definitely gratef-” Neteyam started, but was quickly cut off by you screaming at Tsireya in the middle of the beach.

“Y/n, You’re such a BITCH!” Tsireya shouted at you, gesturing wildly.

“You stole MY TOP, and I’m the bitch?!” You screamed, pushing her back lightly.

“Should we stop them?” Lo’ak asked, watching intently as the scene unfolded before him. Neteyam was conflicted. This was you and your sister, surely you wouldn’t try to really hurt your sister, right? Besides he really didn’t wanna get involved.

“Just give it a minute.” Neteyam spoke, holding his arm infront of lo’ak as he watched closely, waiting for the moment when he had to split you two up.

“I don’t even see what the big deal is! You weren’t wearing it ANYWAY!” She replied in anger, pushing you back. You stumbled back alittle before balling your fists up, eyes full of rage.

“IT DOESNT MATTER! the point is you went in MY CLOSET AND TOOK IT! GIVE IT BACK NOW!” You roared, shaking in anger as you tried your best not to strangle her in-front of everyone.

“NO!” Tsireya projected, crossing her arms. That was the last straw for you as you watched your hand fly across her face, sending her to the ground. Everyone around gasped, watching the handprint form on Tsireya’s face.

“Bro! get your fucking girlfriend. She just slapped mines silly!” Lo’ak yelled, running over to Tsireya. Neteyam pursed his lips in anger, walking over to you two.

“I- ahg! Fucking told you to give -ngh! me my shit back!” You grunted, choking your sister out as you straddled her.

“I-it’s not that SERIOUS!” Tsireya struggled, trying to flip you off of her, but you were too far gone in your own anger.

“IT IS THAT SERIOUS! DONT TOUCH ME STUFF!” You shouted, shaking her neck with every syllable before sending another hand across her face, even harder than the last time.

“Alright get off now!” Lo’ak shouted from behind you, trying to pull you off by your waist, but you swiftly pushed him back, making him fall to the ground. Instantly you felt two strong hands snake under your armpits, pulling you off of your sister with such ease.

“ENOUGH!” Neteyam growled, holding you back by your waist as you desperately tried to get to your sister.

“I HATE YOU!” Tsireya cried, standing to her feet with the help of lo’ak, still lunging towards you.

“I HATE YOU MORE!” You hissed, punching neteyams arm to get out of his grasp. He grabbed your tail, wrapping it around his forearm before yanking it hard. You yelped in pain, immediately stopping all movement. Lo’ak watched, instantly following neteyams lead as he yanked tsireya’s tail. Lo’ak bent down to Tsireya’s ear whispering to her as Neteyam did the same to you.

“You’re in fucking public! Calm down!” Neteyam muttered through gritted teeth.

“But she stole my toooopppp!” you whined, stomping your foot in anger like a child. He gripped your tail tighter, making you hiss in frustration.

“What did I tell you about hissing at me? HUH?!” He roared in your ear, grabbing your arm tightly.

“Tsireya is the LEAST of your worries now!” He spat, spinning you around to throw you over his shoulder. He glanced back at lo’ak dragging tsireya away by her hair.

“HANDLE THAT!” Neteyam growled, pointing to lo’ak. Lo’ak looked back briefly, still dragging Tsireya away.

“AND TAME THAT WILD ANIMAL OF YOURS!” Lo’ak chuckled, yanking Tsireya harder before turning away.

The walk to your hut was filled with kicking and screaming as you desperately tried to get Neteyam to put you down. You finally made it, as he slammed the door behind him, placing you on the ground.

“What the fuck is your problem? Why are you fighting your sister like that?” He asked surprisingly calm, with his hands on his hips. You paced back and forth, face balled up in anger.

“I TOLD YOU! SHE STOLE MY FUCKING TOP! AND YOU JUST TOOK HER SIDE!” You screamed, still pacing back and forth as your arms crossed around your chest.

“I DID NOT! bottom line is, you cannot CHOKE your sister out!” He shouted, gesturing angrily as he watched you burn a whole in the ground.

“TIS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” You shouted sternly, stopping all movement as you watched him cross his arms.

“Ohhh, but it is my business! YOU ARE MY BUSINESS!” He growled, hitting his chest with force.

“Fuck you, Neteyam. Get out.” You whispered with a clenched jaw, pointing at him before turning around. His eyes grew narrow, tilting his head as he huffed with each breath.

“What did you say to me?” He whispered, walking closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace. You turned around, meeting him halfway.

“I said GET OUT!” you yelled, hitting his chest hard, but of course he didn’t budge, not even an inch.

“No! The first part. Repeat that FIRST PART.” He commanded, turning his head slightly to hear you clearly.

“FUCK…Y-”you were cut off by neteyams strong hand wrapping around your neck with much force, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Now, I’ve let you scream at me, HISS at me, hit me, but I draw the line at blatant disrespect, princess.” He whispered with low growls rumbling in his chest, as he was only inches away from your lips.

“No one’s bold enough to put you in your place, and it shows. But you’ve finally met your fucking match.” He hissed, poking you in the chest with the ball of his finger. You pouted up at him with your ocean eyes, trying to get out of the trouble you were in.

“That sad face of yours is not going to get you out of this.” He growled, picking you up to throw you on the cot. You instantly shuffled around, trying to crawl away from him, but you were too slow. Neteyam grabbed your arms, pinning them behind your back before shifting your hips up to meet his pelvis.

“Ngh! I just want my top baaaaack!” You whined, throwing your head down into the cot to muffle your whimpering. He ripped your loincloth off before ripping his, throwing both of them to the side.

“Shut up about that FUCKING TOP!” He growled, slamming into you with no remorse. You screamed at the force, trying to wiggle your arms out of his grasp.

“Stay still!” He shouted, thrusting into you hard and deep. Your scrunched your face up as the pleasure washed over you, becoming too much tohandle.

“Neteyammmm pleaseeee!” You whined, as your salty tears found there way to the corners of your mouth. You could feel him piercing through your soul, searching your guts for an apology.

“Say sorry, RIGHT NOW!” He grunted, holding your dainty hands behind your back, while his other hand pulled your hair.

“Mmm-ughh! No!” You spat, trying desperately not to fall into his trap. You weren’t one to be tamed, but Neteyam knew exactly how to get you under control.

“NO? Did you just tell me NO?” He growled, growing angrier as he thrusted into you faster. The pace he was going was unbearable, you felt like you were going to explode at any second.

“Sllll- oooww down!” You moaned as your vision blurred from your constant flow of tears. You could feel your orgasm approaching fast, and you knew it was going to be intense.

“You’ve got something you want to say first?” He shouted, pushing your head back down onto the cot, holding it there. Your ears were ringing from the impact, and your legs were going numb. Your whole body was tingling as you felt the knot in your stomach unraveling slowly.

“I-IM SORRYY NETEYAM!” You cried loudly, before deliriously gnawing at the material of the cot, trying desperately to find some relief elsewhere.

“SAY *thrust* IT *thrust* AGAIN! *thrust*” he shouted, thrusting into you so hard that your numb legs gave out under him.

“I-I CANT MOVE!” You whined, trembling in his grasp. He pulled your hips back towards him harshly, sliding into your sensitive cunt again.

“DONT EVER DISRESPECT ME AGAIN! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!” He roared, smacking your ass multiple times, leaving handprints all across you.

“YESSSS!” You screamed, tears burning your sensitive cheeks. Your legs gave out again, this time with your orgasm following. Your eyes crossed, as you convulsed under him, squirting everywhere. He watched you lose it with his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Mhmm, just like that. NOW GET UP!” He growled, smacking your ass again. You tried to pull yourself up, but you fell back to the cot everytime, crying with every attempt as you were scared of Neteyam’s reaction.

“I c-can’t feel my legs!” You cried into the cot, lazily crawling away from him with the strength of your dainty arms. He flipped you over, picking you up by your thighs before walking you over to the wall. He glared at you hungrily, eyeing you up and down with lustful eyes.

“please don’t do this to me! I-I can’t take anymore!” You strained, shaking your head from side to side as tears streamed down your face again.

“You’re so pretty when you beg, you know that?” He asked, kissing your neck, leaving hickeys all over. He gently put you on your feet as he held you by your waist, turning you to face the wall. Your knees buckled, and he quickly grabbed you.

“Upside down, NOW!” He growled. Your eyes widened at the memories of that position, and the way you always seemed to black out afterwards.

“Neteyam, I-I can’t p-” you panicked before being cut off. “Your legs are numb, right? I’ll hold them for you. Now BEND…OVER!” He muttered through gritted teeth, backing you up enough for you to bend down. You bent down hesitantly, placing your hands flat on the ground. He instantly lifted your legs, bringing your crotch to his.

“I have a feeling this will never happen again, am I correct?” He asked sarcastically, sliding into you before thrusting slowly.

“YESSS! It won’t happen again! I’m sorry!” You whined, feeling the blood rushing to your head. He speed up his pace, using your ass as leverage to destroy you. He hit your sweet-spot with every thrust, sending a wave of overwhelming pleasure your way.

“N-Neteyam! m’ gonna f-fall!” You stuttered feeling your arms trembling under you. He slapped your ass, rolling his hips into you, making your mouth fly opened.

“You better hold on, because I’m not DONE YET!” He growled. You couldn’t even speak, or rebuttal. You were too busy trying to find the breath that Neteyam took away.

“Nothing to say? That’s a fucking first!” He chuckled, watching your sticky pelvises meet with every thrust. You finally caught your breath with a loud gasp, screaming out as you felt your orgasm coming again.

“mmmm FUCK!” You screamed in between thrusts, feeling slightly woozy from the position. You decided to milk it though, hoping he would ease up on you.

“N-Neteyam, I-I’m gonna pass out like l-last time.” you said breathlessly, trembling under him. He shook his head at your attempts to get out of your current situation.

“Pass out then, I’m not stopping!” He grinned, spitting down onto your cunt. He felt you clenching around him, signaling that you were about to cum, and he wasn’t too far behind you.

“You’re gonna m-make me cum again!” You whined as your eyes rolled back, twitching around his torso. As soon as he felt you clench around him again, he pulled out of you.

“Ohhh Neteyam! Pleaseee!” You begged, as you felt your orgasm slowly disappearing.

“Have you learned your lesson, y/n?” He asked, bending down to French kiss your cunt, sucking on your clit. Your arms were really trembling now, as you moaned loudly, nodding at his question. He pulled away, wiping his mouth before poking at your entrance with his tip to tease you.

“I want you to go and talk to your sister when we’re done. Make it right, ok?” He spoke softly, smacking your ass again.

“YES, YES! I’LL TALK TO HER!” You submitted, nodding your head again. He slid back into you, and you instantly felt your orgasm approaching again. He sped up his pace, chasing his as well. All that could be heard was loud moans, and skin clapping against each other.

“Cummingggg!” You screamed, balling your face up in pleasure as your squirted all over his lower abdomen and chest.

“Mhmmm, good girl! Im almost there!” He grunted, focusing only on the movement of your ass as it slapped against him. Your arms were becoming numb, as they shook violently under you.

“NETEYAMM, IM GONNA FALL!” You whined, as stars flooded your vision. He leaned back alittle, lifting some of the pressure off of your hands as he threw his head back.

“FUUUUCK!” He growled, pulling out of you to spew his thick cum on your ass. His eyes rolled back, jerking his cock to milk himself dry.

“m-my arms are numb! Lift me up pleaseee!” You pleaded. On command, he put your legs on the ground, lifting you up by your hair.

“Are you done being a fucking brat? Never again right?” He whispered in your ear, tugging on your long hair.

“Never again, I swear…”

Wheeewww chileeee! New position unlocked 🔓. Idk I got high and was like “let’s put this bitch UPSIDE DOWN!” lmfaooo. As always, I love y’all to death, and I’ll talk to y’all later!!!

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @pullandhug @ameliestsblog @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @theycallmesia @dollswrld1 @iikatsukii

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Eternal

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.2K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: yelling, Astarion being a dick, arguing, angst, hurt/comfort, #sadgirlhours @ me bitches (it’s me, I’m bitches), ends fluffy because I can't stay mad at my baby

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

Astarion had been in a bad mood the whole day. You noticed it this morning when you woke up without him. You found him down by the stream, he had ignored you a bit. You left him be, thinking he was just not in the mood to talk that early. However, he seemed to be avoiding you and whenever you were in his general vicinity he seemed… irritated? You were beyond confused, everything had been going well for months, you had little bickering spats but nothing serious. Your worst fears broke into your mind; did he want to break up? No, of course not. That’s silly. You willed your feet to walk to him at the campfire. He ignored your presence until you sat next to him. Close enough to bump shoulders. Astarion shuddered away from you. That hurt, yet you persisted. You were jovial and elated, talking and laughing with the others around the fire. You turned to kiss Astarion’s cheek and hold his hand. 

He scoffed before untangling himself from you, “Gods Y/N stop! Stop being so clingy its fucking infuriating.” he said loudly. 

Camp was silent, the others looking at Astarion before looking at you. You were petrified, your breathing had stopped. You felt your eyes welling up with tears. You slowly stood up from the log and started walking to your tent.

“Y/N…” Karlach whispered. Shadowheart gently held your arm before you patted her hand, giving her the most broken smile. You kept walking until you were able to curl up in a ball, in private and let your sobs out into your pillow. 

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

“What the fuck?” Shadowheart snapped at Astarion as soon as you were inside your tent. 

“What? Lovers can’t quarrel?” Astarion huffed out looking away from everyone. The ball of shame inside him started to consume him. 

“Quarrel? Yes. Yell and demean? No. You hurt them Astarion, lovers don’t do that.” Gale chimed in.

“Always tell the truth is my motto, they needed to hear it.” Astarion waved everyone off, trying his best to sound his regular posh self. 

“Yeah, well, here's a truth for you - you're an asshole.” Karlach said, glaring before her and Shadowheart sauntered off to your tent to comfort you. 

Wyll walked away shaking his head in disapproval. Gale walked to his tent but stopped in front of Astarion, softly clapping his hand onto his shoulder. “They worry you know? About everything when it comes to you two. Their thoughts about it are so loud I hear them nonstop. It's quite deafening actually. Do you want to know what I hear now?” 

Astarion’s eyes turned soft, he was almost afraid to know but nodded anyway.

“Fear. Of losing you. Of overstepping your physical boundaries. Of being kicked out of camp. Of existing… I know you feel deeply for Y/N but they do not deserve to feel this way. If you are going to treat them like this, end it. I do not like to see my friends in anguish, and right now, they are suffering. Thanks to you.” Astarion had never seen Gale so stoic, so protective. And worst of all, Gale was right. 

Astarion hung his head, he rubbed his hands over his face in frustration before pushing past Gale. Astarion quietly made his way to your tent. The sight inside broke him down completely. There you were, crying into Karlach’s chest as Shadowheart held your hand and whispered honeyed words to you. Astarion gathered some courage before taking in a sharp breath and walking in. The women immediately glared at him. If looks could kill, he’d be back in that coffin, 6 feet under. He put his hands up, showing he meant no harm. You sat up, finally looking at Astarion. You wiped your face of tears. You nodded at the women, letting them know you could hold your own in this moment. They left the tent, both of them “accidentally” shoving Astarion’s shoulder. 

Your lip was quivering and you felt a lump in your throat, you swallowed it down before saying “Say your piece.”

Scared! Run! Hide! Astarion’s tadpole wriggled and screamed at him. You really were scared of him, the thought itself killed him. 

“Little love…” he whispered, trying to take your hand. You yanked it away and scooted further away from him. Hurt flashed across his eyes and he had nobody to blame but himself. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry…” he spoke quickly, unfamiliar still with trying to communicate his feelings. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you whispered, the lump forming again quickly. 

Astarion wanted so badly to hold you. Truth was you weren’t clingy. You were perfect. A fucking saint actually. He was incredibly lucky to have such a kind soul love him. He loved you more than anyone, anything. All the malice in his body melted away in that moment. “No, my sweet. I… Truth be told, I have been in a sour mood for a while.” he did his best to explain.

Your face dropped even further, “Do you want to break up?” your voice wavered heavily. You didn’t want to keep him trapped if that is how he felt. It would break you but not all broken things are lost. You would mend, eventually. He would be a jagged scar across your heart and soul. 

Astarion’s head snapped up, “No!” he said frantically, crawling a bit closer to you. You backed up a bit before stilling, he looked… guilty? “I… I am sorry… It’s still hard to talk about how I feel… and I am… anxious.” he forced out. 

“About?” you asked softly, straightening your back so you and Astarion were about an arms length away.

“I… worry. About us… after all this is over… about what life looks like. I’m… I’m afraid that if I cannot walk in the sun you will…” he stuttered out his response, fear was now his to host inside. 

“Leave?” you said with a look of surprise on your face. 

Astarion nodded, eyes flitting between yours. He looked vulnerable and subdued. 

“I will follow you anywhere. I would burn the world for you. I would slay the sun and bathe the world in darkness for you. Nothing can separate my soul from yours. I love you.” You said with confidence, and yet there was gentleness in it. 

Astarion’s eyes glossed over a bit. “I love you… it’s why I’m so scared… I don’t want to be alone again… I’m so sorry. ” he let out a sniffle. 

That was enough for you. You pulled him into a tight hug, “And you never will be, not if I have any say in the matter.”  

He hugged you back just as tight. “I love you. I love your touch. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you.” he mumbled into the crook of your neck. 

You shushed him and kissed his cheek, pulling back to look at him. “I am yours. You are mine. From this day until my last day. The sun has no bearing on the matter.” you whispered on his lips. He nipped your lip before kissing you hungrily.

“Good…” he said in between kisses, “selfless as I am, I’m not ready to let you go.”

You giggled as he kissed over your face, his hands wandering as far as you’d allow. You drank him in, both of your worries devoured by your equal, undying love for one another.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello!!! Another little fic that popped into my head today. Work is exhausting and its only Monday :') ughhhhhhh...... might have to wait a bit to get another fic out but I hope you guy's like this one! As always - thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Stay safe out there ya'll - ILYSM <3 xoxoxoxoxo

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Crash Landings (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough sex, Dub con, sex pollen, degradation, pussy slapping, fingering, compromised ability to consent Rated: AdultSummary: After taking damage to his wings, Adam has no choice but to make an emergency landing in a clearing of purple flowers, unaware of the unique flora of hell. While he waits for his flight feathers to regrow, he's met with some rather unexpected side effects of exposure to Hyperrigidus Purpureus pollen. His luck this extermination had been shit but when a pretty little demoness all but trips over him, he is pretty sure his luck was about to change.

A flower fic for @redvexillum- the least I can do for designing the banners for RedFoxTober.

Adam soared through the air, spinning toward the ground as he tried to gather his wits. Feathers fluttered around him, knocked free by the force of the explosion and compromising his ability to take control of the nosedive he was currently stuck in. 

They would grow back quickly enough. In an hour or two he’d regrow the shed flight feathers enough to have lift again. In the meantime, he had no choice but to try and regain enough control of his descent before he crashed into some building or impaled his wing on a fucking tree branch or something.

A patch of purple caught his eye. A clearing, flat and fairly deserted. It was too close to that damned princess’s hotel for his liking, but it was his best option. It didn’t look like there was anyone nearby that could try to fuck up his chance for a breather. He hit the ground with explosive force, sending dirt and flowers into the sky. 

“Shit!” Adam yelled, batting clumps of dirt and flower petals as they rained down on him. “Fuck! Goddamnit.” 

The bitter taste of vegetation invaded his mouth as he inhaled, preparing to let out another string of outraged curses. Instead, he wheezed, coughing and sputtering out the offensive taste as he climbed out of the small crater he had created. 

As he walked, seeking shelter in the small patch of forest, Adam examined his wings. The flight feathers were in a state of ruin. Those that hadn’t been ripped out were singed or broken. Golden blood dripped from the tips of feathers where blood feathers not yet ready to emerge from their keratin casings had been broken open too early. 

Adam grunted, digging through the ragged feathers to find the bleeding numbs. He wrapped his fist around the first one he found and pulled. Pain stabbed through his wing but he kept the pressure steady, pilling the feather out of the skin of his wing. After tossing the bloody feather to the side, he put pressure on the opening until it clotted. 

“Fucking hot ass mother fucking weather.” Adam mumbled, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe, groaning when it did nothing to remove the sweat from his skin, instead rubbing along his battle helmet. Had it always been so fucking hot down here, or was it worse on the ground? “Fucking sweating my goddamn fuckin’ balls off.” 

Adam pulled the helmet from his head, desperate for some air. Sweaty brown hair stuck to his skin as he again wiped his forehead. He tossed it to the ground at his feet, needing his hands free to pull the baggy robes up and over his head. It was too fucking hot to be wearing them. Stupid fucking robes. 

The hot air caressed his arms, doing little to cool the fire that seemed to build inside him. He needed to sit down, get his bearings, and rip those bleeding feathers out. The sooner they were gone, the sooner they would start to regrow and he could go back to killing these lowly fucking cunts. 

He sat under a tree and got all of three feathers out before groaning, leaning back against the tree. It was too fucking hot. He fanned himself, but found no relief in the action. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, working the buckles free from the strappy leather shirt he wore. 

It was an unneeded layer of protection, but one he wore out of habit. Sinners couldn’t hurt him, not in any substantial way. That didn’t make taking blows any more fun, though. Clacking of metal and the groaning of leather seemed too loud in the patch of trees he took shelter in as he pulled the zipper down his chest. 

Hot air caressed his chest, doing little to cool the flushed skin. He just needed a few minutes to let the sweat dry, that was all. He was just trying to make sure he didn’t get a heat rash. 

“Fucking bullshit,” Adam groaned as he shifted, pants constricting around his thighs. The heat had him sweating everywhere, resulting in all of his clothes pulling at his skin. The grip on his cock was painful. 

“Stupid fuckin’ shit,” Adam groaned, as he worked the studded belt buckle around his hips free, working the fly of his pants open. This would look so bad if anyone found him like this. He just needed some fuckin’ airflow. 

No wonder everyone walked around hell half naked. It was so fucking hot. 

He wasn’t sure when he had pulled his cock out or when he had gotten hard. It hadn’t been intentional; he was just trying to get some airflow around his fucking balls. The sweat had them sticking to his legs, the pull of hairs against sweaty skin causing stinging discomfort. 

Somehow that led him here, to be sitting on the ground of a hellish forest with his cock in his fist. Sweat poured down his back as he stroked himself. The pace had started lazy, just a way to occupy himself while he let the wounds heal and feathers regrow. It was a distraction from the way his wings fucking itched.

Before long, his pace was disparate as he fucked into his hand. He squeezed and gripped; he caressed and thrusted and yet he could not find release. The oppressive heat of hell was keeping it from him. 

“Fuck,” he panted, thankful he was alone at least. 

Or he thought he was. 

Though he was too distracted to hear it, you ran through the forest. Bare feet slammed against the forest floor, not sparing a thought to the way the branches and rocks cut into flesh. It was better to be cut up by the forest than by the Exorcist that you were fleeing. 

Panting breaths slipped from your lungs as you ran, desperate to keep the whine from your voice. There was no way for you to know how well those winged killers could hear. Though you were fairly sure you had lost the one that had been hot on your tail before you ran into the cluster of tight trees off to the side of the road, you didn’t slow. 

The trees grew more sparse as you ran, feet leaving bloody smears against the dirty ground. With explosive force, you burst from the underbrush into a small clearing, hardly large enough to be called that. 

Pink hair flew into your face as you jerked back, tripping over roots as you tried and failed to find your footing. The last thing you had expected was to find a man in the forest, let alone one that looked so painfully human. 

You fell to the ground, hands just in front of his black leather boots, full of buckles and metal. For a moment, you just laid there, dazed and looking up at the man holding his erect member in his hand. 

He was so human looking, so soft in a way you hadn’t seen since landing in hell. Brown eyes looked down at you, wide. Metal necklaces and earrings glittered in the dim light as his fist moved slowly up his length, as if he couldn’t help himself. 

You blinked your unnaturally pink eyes at him, unsure what to do when faced with a human in hell before you took in the rest of the sight. A crumpled white and gold mass of fabric sitting at his hip, a black-horned helmet sat next to it. You gasped as you realized golden wings stretched out behind him, smears of golden blood marked the tree trunk he laid against. Above the fluffy boyish brown hair floated a golden halo. 

This man who looked so human was far more deadly of a killer than any of the demons in hell. 

“Please,” you whispered, rising onto your hands and knees. “I- I won’t tell anyone about this if you just let me go.” 

Adam’s eyes ran over you, taking in the dark marron of your sweatshirt and the ever so light pink of your pleated mini skirt. Such a contrast between modest and slutty. Horns and bat wings reminded him through his lusty haze that you were little more than just another disgusting sinner. 

“How are you not burning up?” Adam asked as his hand slowly moved down his cock again. “It’s so fucking hot here.” 

“I-” your eyes widened as you recognized the purple flower petals in his hair. “It’s not. It’s you, the… the flowers. It’ll go away in time. I should-” 

Adam lunged forward, grabbing you and pushing you down onto the ground. He sprang forward with such sudden force you hadn’t had a chance to finish your sentence, let alone try to escape. 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, let me go. I’m trying- I swear I’m trying to be better.” 

“What do you mean it’s the fucking flowers?” Adam hissed, sitting on your hips to ensure you couldn’t get away from him. You tried to ignore the way his cock stood out from his pants, bobbing with every move either of you made. 

“Their pollen,” you gasped, eyes wide as the first man grabbed your wrists, pinning you down and putting an end to your struggles. “It makes people horny.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Adam hissed, “How do I fix it?” 

“You just have to wait it out,” your breath caught in your lungs, hating how your sweater had ridden up in the struggle, exposing your abdomen. 

Adam leaned forward, his cock brushing directly against your skin as he prepared to say something. Instead, his eyes grew wide, and he groaned at the fleeting contact. “I’ve been doing that.”

“You just have to wait,” you whimpered as he folded over you, thrusting his cock lazily against your stomach. “You won’t be able to take care of it on your own.” 

“And with a partner?” Adam shook the shredded petals from his hair, sending dirt and bits of flower raining down on you, not sparing a thought to how it could land in your wide eyes. “If I had some to fuck?” 

“Faster,” you whispered. “Please, I don’t want to die.” 

“What if we made a deal?” Adam thrust his hips against you again, smearing precum along your skin. “That’s what you fuckin demons are all about, aren’t you? Deals?” 

“What?” 

“You help me ride out this fuckin’ bullshit,” Adam leaned closer, brown hair brushing against your pink hair in what surely had to be a strange sight. His wings fluttered out from his back, golden blood dripping onto the ground as he shifted, forcing a knee between your legs. “And I don’t kill you, this year at least. How’s that sound?” 

“You won’t kill me?” Your eyes grew wider as his knee pressed higher, pushing your thighs apart. “If… If we-” 

“You’re lucky, you know.” Adam said, taking both of your wrists in one large hand and shifting, letting his gloved hand run over the skin of your thigh, pushing your short shirt up around your waist. “Bitches fight over who gets to fuck me. You’ll be the only demon bitch who can say she fucked the first man. The fucking original dick. Fuck, you’re so lucky.” 

“I am,” you agreed, not feeling lucky in the slightest. “I’ll do it, please. Just don’t hurt me.” 

“Fuckin’ damn right you’ll do it,” he grabbed the band of your panties, a thong that didn’t cover much anyway, and pulled. The elastic cut into your skin, burning as it stretched. The band around your hip ripped first and then the gusset was cutting into your thigh. You spread your legs in a attempt to flee from the pain, opening your naked core to him. The ripped panties hung around your knee as he dropped them. 

Adam leaned back, taking in the sight of your pink cunt. It was darker than your pink skin, a rosy color that he was eager to get his hands on. 

You hated how your body flushed at the attention. Men like Adam were just your type. Fuck boys who took what they wanted. Assholes who used and took and demanded. His hand pushed your sweater up, greedily exposing your breasts. 

“No bra?” Adam tsked as he took in the sight of so much unnaturally pink skin. Your nipples were rosy and dark, much like your folds. “Fuckin’ slut,” Adam said as he harshly palmed your breast. 

“Ah!” you arched into his touch, body betraying you as his fingers dug into the flesh. The squeezing pressure let up for a moment before he was pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pain flashing through your mind. 

His hand left your breast, letting the warm air of hell soothe the pain. His touch was far from soft or teasing as he ran his hand down your body. Fingers dug into whatever softness he found. 

He positioned himself between your thighs. The way he brought his hand to his mouth was sensual. He pinched the leather of his gloves between his teeth, first to pull open the buckle fastening the glove around his wrist and then at the tips of the fingers. He tossed the black glove to the side, letting it fall atop the heap of his robes. 

Your hips bucked as he wasted no time running his fingers through your folds. He was greedy, selfish. There was no teasing in his touches. 

“Fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, wiggling a finger deep into your hole. “So fuckin wet. You want to be fucked dirty, don’t you?” 

You whimpered, hips working as his finger thrust slowly into you. The sensation expanded as he entered another finger into you, thrusting in and out. There was little resistance. Your opening was shamefully wet. 

“What has you so wet, hum?” Adam asked, fucking his fingers into you harsher. You hated how the squelching sound of his fingers in you filled the clearing. 

This wasn’t something you wanted, not really. But you were willing to do it, to fuck him if it meant he wouldn’t kill you. What you wanted and how your body responded were two very different things. 

“You’re fuckin soaked,” Adam sneered as he pulled his fingers from you, holding them up so you could see the way your slick covered them, strings of it hanging between the digits as he spread them. “Fuckin’ eager whore, aren’t you?” 

He kneed your legs apart, slotting his hips between your legs as he lowered himself down. The head of his fat cock nestled against your folds as he looked down at you as if you were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. 

“What is it, hm?” Adam asked as he parted your folds with his head, moaning at the wetness that pooled around him. “You’re suck a fuckin’ slut. Going to let the fuckin’ first man fuck you in the woods. Fuck you on the dirty ground.” 

You moaned at the burning stretch of his head pushing into your opening. He hadn’t spared a second to run his cock through the folds, to collect the slick on him, to ease his entry. He didn’t give a shit about you as he sank deeper. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, “going to get fucked by the general.” 

“Please,” you whined, hips wiggling as you tried to work your slick over his cock and ease the burning strain of your hole around him. “Just fuck me,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Adam moaned as he spread your walls open with his length, slowly bottoming out. “Look at me while I fuck you, bitch.” 

You fluttered your eyes open, coming face to face with the angel general. A blush colored his cheeks, flushed from the heat the flowers put in his body. His cock spread you wide and reached deep. The first man had been gifted with an impressive tool, far more sizable than any of the men you had been with in life or in death. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, back arching as he thrust into you. Your nipples scraped against buckles and the zipper, a painful change in sensation that paired with the stretch of him. 

“That’s right,” Adam said, pulling out as you whined. “Beg for it.” 

It took all of Adam’s self control to not plunge deep into your sopping wet cunt. Instead, he pulled further back and grabbed you, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. 

“Please,” you whispered, begging less for Adam’s cock and more for him to get on with it. 

“I don’t believe you want it,” Adam slapped your ass, the stinging pain forcing a yelp from your lips. The sound of three more sharp strikes echoed through the forest, each one blooming into a heated pleasure that made it hard for you to remember that you didn’t want this. 

“Please,” you begged, less sure of what you were begging for as you leaned back on your knees, seeking the full feeling of his heavy cock in your cunt. “Please, fuck me.”

“That’s right,” Adam sneered, smile curling as he fucked into you harshly. The sudden punch of his cock against your cervix knocked the air out of your lungs. “Fucking beg.” 

He refused to move, twitching inside her as he waited. Like hell was he going to let some fuckin hell flower control him? It was one thing for the fucking flower to make him fuck a slutty little fucking sinner like this, but he would not let it decide how he fucked. Pulling out, he sat and waited, watching your core clench, seeking him out. 

Adam was the original dick. He was fucking since fucking was a thing. He didn’t need some fucked up hell flower to tell him how to fuck. He spat, watching the glob as it hit her quivering hole. 

“Please,” you whimpered as you felt his spit splatter over your folds. “Fuck me.” 

Your control was slipping. There was a line between wanting to fuck Adam because he was going to kill you otherwise. Looking down at the ground, you saw the shredded purple of the petals, knowing full well in that instant why you were so wet.

“Fuck,” Adam moaned, thrusting harshly inside of you again, knocking the air from your lungs and sending you face down onto the ground. “Just like that, bitch.” 

You blinked your eyes, trying to breathe as he fucked harshly into you. That purple petal, hardly more than a shred danced on the dirt, carried by your gasped cries. His belt stung as it bit at your ass, each thrust slamming it into you. 

“Fuckin’ take my fat cock. Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ lucky.” He moaned, thrusting into you as he folded over you. Strong hands grabbed your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples under his hands. “Fucked by the first fucking man. Fucking dirty slut, you like that, don’t you?” 

You moaned deeply in response. That wasn’t enough of an answer for him, though. Adam’s hand left your breast, only to swing up and slap it in a stinging blow. You clenched around his cock, moaning deeply at the strike. 

“Fucking whore,” Adam said, “answer me.” 

“Yes,” you moaned into the dirt. “Fuck, yes.” 

“Good slut,” Adam praised, pinching your nipple as a reward. “Who’s fuckin’ you?”

“A-Adam,” drool ran from the corner of your cheek, collecting on the ground as he fucked into you harder. 

“That’s right,” Adam said, “Right fuckin there. Take it. Take my fuckin’ load like the greedy bitch you are.” 

He came with a moan, never slowing his thrusts. You cried out at the burning heat of the ropes of his hot cum, shooting into you without warning. His pace never slowed, even as his seed stung in the small rips his size had caused around your opening. That pain was just one more thing that bloomed into pleasure. 

“Please,” you panted, “want to, want to cum.” 

“No,” Adam said, pulling her up onto her knees by the breasts. “You can fucking cum when I’ve had enough.” 

“Adam,” you whined, as he continued to fuck up into you. The change in position had your back arched and the painful size of Adam had him pressing against your stomach with every thrust. 

“Fuckin’ whore,” Adam said, “Bitch ass slut,” his sweaty head rested on her shoulder as he continued fuckin up into her. “Why the fuck am I still so fuckin’ hard?

“F-f- fuck,” you moaned, struggling to say anything. When you reached down, hoping to stroke your clit and push yourself over the edge, Adam grabbed your wrists. “Fucking flowers.” 

“Going to fuck you till I’m done,” he promised, “fuckin use you up.” 

That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Your core clenched around him as you let your head fall back, resting on the shoulder of the man who was driving you to such heights of pleasure. 

“Please,” you whined, “Please- fuck! Please use me,” 

“Damn right,” Adam moaned, breath cascading down your chest, washing over your overheated breasts. “Fuck. Best cock you’ve had all fuckin year. Best fuckin’ of your life, huh?” 

“Y-yes!” you cried out as he slapped your breast, nipple stinging from the impact. “Best fuck- fucking.” 

“Never gonna have someone as good as me,” Adam promised, running his hand down your body, pressing into your stomach. Pressure built inside you as you were pushed closer to the edge. His cum and your slick poured down your legs, smearing into his leather pants as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. 

“No.” you flexed your fingers, nails digging into your chest where Adam’s still gloved hand had your hands pinned. “Please, please, Adam, please, I want to-” 

“Fucking dickmaster,” Adam grunted as your core squeezed the life out of his cock, “Call me dickmaster- ah! Fuck, when you cum.” Reaching down, he ran the pads of his fingers over your clit, stroking it. You thrust your hips as he worked his fingers over you. Drool ran down your chin as he continued spearing you on his massive cock. “You can do that, can’t you, my little demonic slut?”

“Yes,” you chased the pleasure he was giving you, hips working against him as he fucked you dumb. “Fuck, yes. Please. Please. So close, Adam.” 

His fingers left you for a moment before a stinging slap hit your clit. You cried out, tears running down your face as he fucked you through the pain. He slapped your swollen clit three more times, driving you closer to the edge with each blow. 

“What the fuck did I say, bitch?” Adam grunted, fucking into your sloppy hole harder, twitching inside you. “Fuck, so tight. What are you- fuck- going to call me?” 

“Dick-” you gasped, legs and small bat wings trembling. He let your hands go, reaching up and wrapping a hand around one of your horns and yanking your head back. He forced your back to arch, ass pressing into him as he continued thrusting harshly, chasing his own release again. “Dickmaster, fuck.” 

“Good girl,” Adam praised, catching himself off guard as he turned his head, planting a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Good fuckin’ slut. Come on now, cum on the first cock. Come on my cock.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped, back aching at the way he had forced you to arch it. He slapped your clit again and again, fingers running over the slick nub between blows. “Fuck, fuck,” you cried out as he yanked on her head again, “I’m going to, fuck, Dickmaster, I’m going to-” 

“Go on, slut.” Adam said, yanking at your horn as he slapped your clit harder. Each strike clenched your cunt around him as he moaned. “Cum on my cock,” 

You did, with a scream that echoed through the forest. “Adam!” You chanted, switching it out with “Dickmaster,” when he slapped your overly sensitive clit again and again. 

“Fucking slut,” Adam grunted, shoving you forward as you convulsed around his cock. Strong hands gripped your hips, dragging them up without a care for the way your nipples scraped against the ground as he fucked into you, riding each wave of your orgasm. “Fuckin’ whore, cuming on my cock.” 

“Ah!” You couldn’t make your limbs work as each wave of your orgasm crashed into eachother, blurring together in searing white hot pleasure, “D-dick, dick… Master. Fuck, Dickmaster.” 

“That’s fuckin’ right,” Adam said, seed spilling into your cunt, squelching out of your hole with every thrust he made into it. “Fuckin’ whore,” Adam whispered as he collapsed over her, spent.

Both gasped for breath, trying and failing to fill burning lungs you shuddered, twitching around his cock. Above you, in the sky, holy trumpets sounded, as they always did, twice a year to single the beginning and the end of the extermination. 

You survived another year, doing whatever you had to do in order to make it out the other side alive. Never had you thought fucking the angel general would be what it took. 

Adam pulled from you, his cock leaving, letting a river of his cum run from your hole. It tickled as it trickled down your folds. For a moment, he stood over you, running his ungloved hand through his sweaty hair. Finally, the sweat on his skin was drying and his cock softened. 

He wasn’t sure what to say to you at the moment, so he said nothing, tucking his dick away in silence. You laid on the ground, ass in the air, skirt still thrown up around your hips, seed running from your hole and dripping off your clit onto the dirty ground. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he grabbed his phone. 

He walked around the side, taking in the fucked out look on your face. The sweater you wore, a mockery of modesty, was bunched around your shoulders, displaying your breasts. 

You hardly registered the sound of a camera shudder snapping as Adam took pictures. Your wings twitched as you lay gasping for air. Adam moved around you, ensuring he could look back on this and know exactly the way your pink hair fell across your fucked out face, the way your nipples looked dragging across the ground and most importantly, the way your cunt dripped with his seed. 

“Thanks for a good time,” He said, kneeling behind you for a moment for a closer look. “Fucked yourself into another year in hell, good job slut.” 

“Adam,” you moaned, blinking at the sound of his voice. 

“That’s right, whore-” A wet slap echoed through the trees along with your lusty yelp as he delivered one final blow to your abused cunt. “Don’t ever forget how you got yourself another year. Maybe you can remind me next year.” 

You groaned, tears running down your face, dripping into the dirt as you came back to yourself. Blurry eyes watched as Adam slipped the robe over his long frame and shoved the helmet over his head. He spared you a digitized wink as he fluttered his wings, leaving you exposed as he took off, joining his band of bloodthirsty killers as you lay exposed on the ground. 

Just as he had promised, he left you used up. 

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello and congrats on 5K!!!!!

I was unsure if I should send in my goofy idea haha but here goes! I was just imagining, the mc and the 141 having to do a mission super early in the morning. So the mc puts on some earbuds and just listens to the most grating or strange music to help wake themselves up. I imagined this with Soap or Gaz but whoever is fine ^^

Thank you and again, congrats on 5K!!!

—How Do You Listen To That?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

It was three a.m. and already you were in full gear, bag slung over your shoulder as the C17 sat on the tarmac. Soldiers walked about, men and women loading up the plane with all manner of items your Task Force might need. You don’t mean to be rude when you walk past without more than a grunt in greeting, it’s just that you can barely keep your eyes open.

The debrief had been quick, nothing more than a few words by Price said when everyone had been called in from their barracks not fifteen minutes earlier. Off to another base somewhere in Egypt, you yawn into your elbow and try not to think about how hard it’ll be to stay awake on the fly over there. You needed to be boots on the ground right off the bat, so no time to rub at your eyes before you landed. 

Your feet thump up the ramp and you drop your bag next to Gaz, who pulls his headphones out of his ears to rest around his neck. He sends you a glance, lips pulling in a tiny smile. 

“Still with me, Love?” You send a blurry glare his way, tossing yourself down beside him into one of the uncomfortable chairs connected to the wall. 

“Remind me,” your voice grumbles as Kyle’s hand grabs the seatbelt from your side, pulling it over you and clicking you in. “Why did I join up?”

“Well,” Garrick teases, “to see my face every day, Ma’am. Can’t think of a better reason.”

“You’re lucky you’re smart, Sergeant.” Pulling the strap to cinch the seatbelt to your abdomen, you shuffle into a more comfortable position and go to rest your head on Gaz’s shoulder. 

“Is it mine or yours, then?” The man asks you, and your lips pull in thought. An arm extends around your shoulders, jostling you closer to a hard chest as you hum in approval. 

“Mine—you choose the songs to Latvia.” A phone is casually moved to your hand and you take it with a muttered ‘thank you.’

Gaz sighs, leaning his head back and putting one of the headphones into his ear—you take the other and do the same, smile pulling at your lips. Your face still burns with fatigue; eyes fluttering against the lights as Johnny, Ghost, and finally your Captain all make their way to their own seats. 

With every Op, there was a routine. 

Johnny would fiddle with all kinds of hand-held puzzles he kept in his pack or write in his journal, Simon would read, and Price would go over reports or type up mission details—the upcoming intel that you’d all need to know before the real nitty-gritty started. 

Gaz and you would listen to music. 

It was sweet, you thought. A semblance of balance and stability before the ball dropped. Being close to him always felt like that.

Absent-mindedly, you scroll through song after song as Kyle rests his eyes, itching at the back of his neck as he holds you. Finding a song that’s sure to wake you up, not even knowing the band, you can tell just by the album cover exactly what it’s going to sound like. 

Screaming, throaty wails; maybe even garbled voices that yell at a frequency so high it’ll make your ears bleed. You smirk.

Perfect.

Gaz’s relaxed demeanor is accented by a tiny smile, muscles lax and his face loose as the ramp of the C17 begins to fold in on itself before take-off. He holds you in the crook of his arm, feeling your sleepy heat and the way your face nuzzles his upper pec—you always alluded to a feeling of relaxation on days like these; when time was of the essence. In the few hours of having you against him, Kyle can finally let his mind rest—

“Bloody fucking hell!” The man calls as the grating sound of vocal bellowing strikes his ears. Gaz’s body jerks forward, snapping the headphones away from him as the rest of the men immediately look over to the scene of a horrified Sergeant and a giggling woman under his arm.

You laugh loudly, phone close to your chest and face burying itself into the panicked man’s neck. 

Gaz blinks quickly, staring down at you with parted lips as the rest of the Task Force share a knowing look. 

“Now,” he asks through a breathless exaggeration, “what did I do to deserve that?” 

“I…I’m sorry,” you giggle out, giving him a firm side hug. 

“Christ,” Kyle sighs, fake glaring down as a smile comes out over his face. “You’re trouble, Love, y’know that? Who can listen to that this early?”

You smirk in his face, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile. “It’s going to wake us up, Garrick.”

“Fuck, if that’s how you’re going to do it, I’d rather bash my damn head into a wall. Jesus.” You roll your eyes and give in, chuckling. 

“Alright, Alright—no songs that involve people screaming directly into your precious little ears, Kyle.” The man knocks his head on top of yours, a smile hidden in your hair as the voice of the pilot wafts over the cockpit. 

“...Thank Christ. ‘Bout pissed myself.”

[milla-frenchy]

Wolf like me - part 2

3k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: trying to understand your relationship with Joel, you awkwardly stir up his possessiveness Warnings: 18+ mdni. Darkish. Mentions of somnophilia and anal, manhandling, oral (f/m), cum eating, slapping, spitting, biting, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, piv, ass play, a little blood. Self abandonment, toxic relationship, possessiveness, jealousy, reader is looking for pain, Joel is not particularly nice and not caring either, angst. No age specified. a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for the beautiful edit of Joel with the wolf 😍🔥and for beta-ing me, as usual. ILY 💕🫶

ao3 | masterlist

part 1

His feet were firmly planted on the ground, as his cock was sinking between your folds. His eyes locked with yours, he was pounding you against the front door. 

You heard his heavy footsteps when you knocked, and he grabbed your arm as soon as he opened the door, then closed it back with the palm of his hand. Without waiting for you to put your things down, he pushed you against the door. He groaned, his forehead against yours.

He knelt down and pulled down your pants and panties, growling into your crotch as he took in your scent. His tongue slipped between your folds, eager to collect your wetness, which had begun to soak into the fabric of your underwear as soon as you walked up the stairs.

“Already soaked for me”, he murmured between two breaths. And you dug your fingers into his brown curls, as if you wanted him to devour you even more. Even if he couldn't be any closer. He grabbed one of your calves to lift your leg, placed your thigh  on his shoulder and his tongue impatiently lapped at your pussy. He ran it flat, over and between your folds, then fucked you with it. You were already moaning, quickly becoming sensitive to his way of eating you. It was wild, feral. As if you were there to fill one of his needs. He pushed three fingers into your pussy, and his tongue swirled against your clit.

“Fuck, Joel”, you whimpered, feeling your orgasm building deep inside you. He growled again, as if your words bothered him. But you knew now that they only turned him on more.

As soon as you came, your pussy clenching on his fingers, he replaced them abruptly with his tongue, diving it deep between your folds. He wanted to feel you cum on his tongue. The pleasure had seized you so quickly that you were dizzy. When your spasms stopped, you were so shaky that you could barely stand on your feet. After getting up he didn’t bother to wipe his mouth and his chin, both dripping, and already, his tongue was searching for yours. Mixing your wetness with your saliva and his. His beard rubbed against your skin, and you loved feeling the raw contact. He was wearing only jeans that he quickly pulled down under his cock and his balls, and his thick fingers gripped his shaft, guiding it into your depths.

And now he was pounding you, quickly, his hands tight on your thighs wrapped around his waist. You gripped his shoulders with your hands to hold him against you and feel his warmth, but he grunted, “Wanna look at you while you’re taking my cock.” His piercing gaze was plunged into yours, as if he was probing your soul. His intensity made it barely impossible to hold his glance. His cock pierced you with every thrust of his hips, so violently that you no longer knew whether you felt pleasure or pain. But you didn't care. You just wanted to feel something, and that was what he was giving you. He lowered his pace and tilted his pelvis, now thrusting against your G spot, at a slower but deeper rhythm. You bit your lip and he smirked.

“Can feel your cunt squeezing me.”

You closed your eyes as you felt the wave grow, ready to break through your entire body, while he kept thrusting. You opened your eyes, and his gaze was still on you. “Look at that little cunt, ready to cum on my fat cock…yeah, give it to me.”

You moaned louder, and bit your lip to the point that the taste of iron had now invaded your mouth.

“I know, it’s too much for that tight cunt, right? Fuck…”

Your pussy clenched and you whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Emotions and sensations, so strong that you lost yourself in them and in the feelings you had for him now. When he saw them in your eyes, he shook his head and buried his face in your neck, breathing in deeply as his nose rubbed against your delicate skin, before biting it. When you cried out as his teeth dug into your flesh, you felt him freeze. He was close.

He pulled out, grunting “kneel” and you presented your open mouth to him, just in time for the hot spurts of cum to warm it. His fist clenched your hair as he dragged the tip of his twitching cock over your soiled tongue.

You fell asleep in his bed, just feeling him cover you with a blanket. Many times, you had fallen asleep in his apartment, woken up in the middle of the night by the feeling of his thick cock roughly sliding in your pussy and spreading your folds, using you like a rag doll, whose limbs and body were controlled by his movements. And you clung to him fearing that he would let you go, while he couldn't do without your pussy tighting on his shaft, barely managing to hold back from cumming inside you, and shooting his cum onto your stomach or anywhere else at the last moment.

But that morning you woke up not having been fucked during the night, and his side of the bed was cold. You felt empty. You pushed back the blanket to inspect your arms and legs, looking for the slightest trace of bruising. Then your hips, where faint marks remained, from the last time he had held on to them as he thrusted his cock into you. You couldn’t remember if it was in your pussy or your ass. The erased traces of his fingers buried in your flesh only made the void inside you grow.

You saw each other several times after the day he had held you in his arms the last time. But he hadn’t shown you any other signs of affection since.

When you left his apartment, the raindrops on your cheeks were mixing with your tears.

Later that day, you met Robert at the usual meeting point, and you saw Marlene leaving discreetly. He gave you some supplies and asked you to bring them to one of his guys near the guardhouse. 

Once there, you felt a gaze on you and you turned around. Joel’s dark stare was fixed on you, and he didn’t flinch when yours landed on him. Why would he? He had been a hunter, a wild beast, since the beginning. And all you wanted was to be his prey. Even more than usual, as the days and months passed. So you brushed against the arm of the man you were talking to, whose first name you didn’t care about, while in your head you could only hear your mind repeating “Joel.” You smiled a little more than you usually would have when that guy said something kind to you. And when he leaned over to whisper something in your ear, you let him, hoping that Joel was still watching.

You left, heading towards your apartment. You had only taken a few steps when he grabbed you. You knew it was him, the moment he clasped your wrist. He pinned you against the alley wall, your cheek against the brick, and his cock against your ass. Already hard. The sleeves of his blue denim shirt were rolled up and your eyes were fixed on his forearm veins, when he held your wrist firmly against the wall.

“Fuckin’ slut. My cock’s not enough?”

He chuckled when you stuck your ass out towards him.

“Ain’t gonna fuck you here. You’re really ready to take it anywhere.”

He grabbed your arm, leading you with a firm hand to his apartment. You tried to keep up with him, but he walked fast and you were forced to trot alongside him.

“Hurry the fuck up”, he barked at you, when you were going up the stairs. You felt his impatience, and you were almost afraid for the first time of what was going to happen. Maybe you had gone too far, testing him like that. The post-apocalyptic world brought out basic needs. Eating, sleeping, fucking, owning. And Joel seemed to be the embodiment of that.

When he opened the door and pushed you inside, you stumbled, and almost fell. He closed the door behind you and once he turned back to you he put his hands on his hips. You could see he was trying to calm down, his nostrils flaring from his short, angry breathing.

“Joel, I-”

The look he gave you cut short what you wanted to tell him.

“The fuck was that, outside?”

His eyes were darker than ever and when he took a step forward to approach you, you took a step back.

“Joel…you’re scaring me.”

“You're goddamn right to be scared. ‘Cause I wanna tear you into pieces right now. Wanna fuck you until you pass out, and then, maybe you’ll stop thinking with your cunt.”

“I need you”, you murmured on the verge of tears. “I need you, and you’re not here for me. Not as much as I need. I thought you’d be, after…” Your voice broke.

“After what? After I hugged you? You're a fool, if you think I'll love you. I don’t love, I own. I possess.”

He was already close to you when you realized he had moved, his body against yours and his face lowered towards you. His hand was on your throat.

“I already told you that you belong to me. No one else can have you. So, I’m gonna ask you one last time: what was that, outside?”

His hand tightened on your throat when he asked you that question, and you brought your hands to his, to make him release you, but of course, his grip was too strong. When he withdrew his hand, he didn’t even hide the satisfaction he felt, seeing his mental and physical hold on you.

“I wanted to make you jealous”, you whined. “I wanted you to notice me, to feel something for me.” But he didn't even respond to that, to your desperation. You were emotionally bare in front of him, and he was giving you nothing.

“I’m gonna fuck that cute little face of yours. And when your mouth is full of my cock, at least you’ll stop whining”, he said, undoing his belt before letting it fall to the floor, and then unzipping his jeans. When he took out his cock, you were no longer crying. The idea that he was going to fill you made you forget all your doubts, all your insecurities. You knew, the moment his cock was buried in you, no matter which hole he would use, he would only be yours.

When he began fucking your mouth to the point of making you choke on his cock, you didn't back down. You let him dispose of it as he wished. He hit the back of your throat every time he thrusted in, one hand around your neck to feel his shaft sliding in. Feeling how far he was going. When he released you and let you catch your breath, you begged him “I want you to fill my mouth.”

“I bet you do,” he answered, holding the back of your head with one hand, and fucking his wrist with the other. He thrusted one last time, his balls clenched in his hand as if he wanted to shove them into your mouth too. When he came, his neck swollen and his veins bulging, he managed to say “don’t wanna see a single drop flow." You did as he wanted, swallowing the spurts as he offered them to you, keeping his cock between your lips.

He didn’t make you cum, and you didn’t ask. You didn't try to relieve the pressure between your thighs, either. He showered you, like he did sometimes. Like someone would wash an abandoned dog brought to a shelter. His calloused hands running the soap over every inch of your skin, between every fold, every curve, and rubbing every bone.

He knelt down, reaching your lower stomach, and was turning your body the way he wanted. Facing him, back to him, sideways. He cleaned your feet, bringing them up one after the other as you turned your back to him. He ran his hands over your pussy and leaned you forward. Sometimes he fucked your ass in the shower, helped by the soap. Your desire for him was so strong that you didn't need any more time for him to dive his cock into your tight hole. Your mind was so eager, so dependent on him, on his body, on his cock, that you could take him almost immediately.

He never let you wash him. It had disappointed you at first, as you were eager to touch his body, but now you were used to just looking at him, standing in the shower next to him. Hypnotized by his hands, his body and his skin marked with several scars. You watched him clean his cock. Once you tried to touch it, but he slapped your hand and grunted “no.”

Once clean, you got out of the shower and he always dried you off first. If he was cold, he didn't show it and never complained. Every time you felt your pussy drool, but he never fucked you at that moment. Sometimes though, he ran his hand between your folds and licked his fingers. At most he passed his tongue quickly. But rarely.

Then he fed you. He probably knew that your fridge was often empty. “That fuckin’ Robert doesn’t give you enough food cards or what?” he asked one day. You shrugged your shoulders.

And you were still perplexed by all this, the showering, the feeding. That felt mechanical, as if he had a job to do.

You were in line to send messages when you saw him walk past everyone. He came out a few minutes later, his jaw clenched. When he saw you, he told you to meet him at his apartment after you were done. 

He fucked your mouth, as usual. He ate your cunt, too, but didn’t make you cum. He told you to lie down on his bed. You wondered if he was going to jerk off and cum on your body without fucking you. You couldn't discern his thoughts, even less than usual.

He was standing, facing the bed and looked even more magnificent, more magnetic than usual. Even darker, perhaps, if it was even possible. 

He took his cock in his hand, running his thumb over the precum to spread it over his tip. He was so beautiful, his sexual energy was overwhelming you, so  you slipped your hand down to your pussy and started rubbing your clit while looking at him. He rushed to the bed and swatted your hand away, growling “don’t fucking touch what’s mine.”

His excessive possessiveness continued to fill the void in you and you didn't rebel any more than the other times, waiting to see how he was going to dispose of your body. Wanting to let him use it as he wished to.

When he laid down between your legs, he rubbed his cock between your folds, covering it with your wetness. His fist was clenched in your hair as you sought to catch his gaze with yours. When he pushed his cock half way into your pussy, before pulling back and plunging all the way in, you screamed. “Shut up and let me use you”, he grunted. You spread your thighs for him to go deeper, and he added “yeah, you know what you’re good for.”

Your fingers tight on his biceps, you followed his movements by rolling your hips towards him.

“Deeper, Joel,” you begged. 

"Yeah? You wanna scream, baby doll? Want my cock to help you forget everything else?”

You nodded, biting your lip, as he already picked up the pace, his balls slapping against your skin. Your moans turned into cries when his thrusts went harder. “Every time you cry, you’re even more mine than before,” he said, nestling his nose in the warmth of your neck, his hands gripping your hips. He licked your earlobe, then bit it gently.

"This pussy’s mine. Fuck…You're mine. Say it”, he panted, his lips against your ear.

“I am yours. All yours.” He stopped, balls deep in your pussy, to look at you. You didn't see the slap coming. It wasn't a strong one, but sharp enough to understand that he was pissed.

“I said: this pussy’s mine. You’re mine. Repeat it”, he said again, holding your chin and pouding you again against the mattress.

“My pussy’s yours. I’m yours”, you whimpered.

“I’ll tear apart anyone who touches you. You understand that?”

Tears ran down your cheeks, as in that moment he gave you more than you had ever had or felt.

“Yes. And I want that. I want to be marked by you, however you wanna do it, and I want everyone to know it.”

He grabbed your hair and held your head back against the bed. Neck and throat offered to him, he licked and sucked your skin. You knew you would have several visible hickeys the next day.

“Bite me, Joel.”

“Fuck…” he buried himself completely, holding his cock deep in you. Your head was still held back by his massive hand. He sank his teeth into your neck and bit into the tender flesh. You heard him growl against your neck, and soon you felt your tears streaming down toward your ears. But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to taste everything your body could offer him. And when he continued to fuck you, he responded to your silent waiting by licking the evidence of your offerings with his tongue, before giving way to his lips, coming to soothe the bite with kisses. Your tears and blood mixed on his tongue. 

“Touch yourself,” he said, looking at you. You slipped your index finger between his lips and the outline of a smirk was drawn on his lips as he sucked your finger. You then placed it against your clit, and began to caress it delicately. Your other fingers brushed against his cock, and the place where you two became one.

“Come for me…come on my cock.” It was almost like a plea, and it was enough for your orgasm to build. 

“Joel…please don’t stop. I…Fuck…I’m gonna cum.”

When you squeezed his cock, he thought he was going to cum between your folds without having time to pull out. He clenched his jaw so hard that you heard his teeth gnash. He pulled away and grabbed you by the arm, leading you to the dining room table where he bent you over. He pulled one of your knees up onto the wood, spreading you lewdly, and thrusted in, pressing your chest against the table with his hand. He fucked you so hard that your disjointed body was shaking, following his rough movements. You were so wet that all you could hear was the sounds of his sodden cock stuffing your pussy.

He was now growling and grunting, rumbling several “fuck”, while he was pounding you quickly. Spreading your ass cheeks with one hand, you heard the spittle of saliva reach your ass. He pressed his thumb against your tight ring, spreading his saliva, and pushed his finger in. The double stimulation was driving you crazy. Crazy about him, crazy about his whole body, crazy about the sensations you were feeling. Your second orgasm hit you, even stronger than the first one. A breathy “shit” escaped his lips just before he pulled out and shot his load against your asshole. He emptied his balls and collapsed on your body, his cock resting against your ass.

“You’re mine and I must protect you. You understand?" he managed to say between two breaths.

“Yes… yes, Joel.”

Before leaving, he told you not to go near the corner of Stillman and Cross for 24 hours. You didn't ask any questions, and nodded.

When you got home, you couldn't stop smiling. You felt close to him. Protected by him. Nothing could happen to you, he wouldn’t allow it.

When you fell asleep in your bed that night, you could still smell his scent on you.The moon was round and full, and lit your face all night while you slept. You dreamed of him. Of his hands, his cock, his gaze. You slept better than ever, that night.

The next day, upon reaching Area 5, one of Robert's men asked you if you knew what had happened. You shook your head, waiting for his explanation. A knot tightened in your stomach even before he answered.

“Robert’s dead. Joel and Tess were seen leaving the place where he was found.”

You walked towards the corner of Stillman and Cross, looking for him on every street. Finally, you saw him, near his apartment. He was walking quickly, behind Tess. And…a kid you didn’t know. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed preoccupied. He was carrying a backpack, so was Tess. 

It was raining.

He turned around, as if to see whether they were being followed. And that's when he saw you, across the street. Your eyes met for a few seconds, and he shook his head “no” to you, before entering his building. The knot in your stomach came back, more painful than earlier.

You didn't sleep that night.

When you went back to his apartment, the morning after, he wasn’t there anymore.

You never saw him again, never knew if he was still alive. The hope he would return to Boston had left you a long time ago. Sometimes you thought you were seeing him in the streets of the QZ. But it was never him, and each time you cried when you realized it.

You had wondered for a long time if he knew that he was going to leave that day. You still wondered sometimes. And you hated him for leaving you alone with this void inside you, bigger than ever. With no one to protect you.

You never managed to find out more about his past, during the times you were with him. Never knew why he kept this broken watch on his wrist night and day. He had remained largely a mystery to you.

When the anger had passed, you thought a lot about your moments with him. All those times he showered you, fed you. Only now understanding that it was his way of taking care of you, of showing you his affection. He probably didn't know how else to express it, broken by this world, and whatever happened to him.

You understood that the last thing he told you was meant to protect you.

A few times you went to the Mission hill pier. You watched the black waves that washed up there. They were often agitated.

After his departure the anger that had lived in your soul for so long dissipated. Now you felt empty.

*****************

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[wingedhallows]

bloody party; wolfstar

pairing: wolfstar x reader | 0.9k words plot: finding your bofriend cheating you at a gryffindor party sucked, good thing sirius and remus liked you bloody all the same. prompt: "bloody party" authors note: this might have a second part, since it has an open ending. I hope you like it :)

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The bass thumbed through you, faintly. The smoke filled your lungs between quiet sobs, the tears probably smudging your makeup. Your bloody knuckles hurt and shivered as you tried to hold onto the cigarette. How could he throw your relationship away like this? Like it never meant a thing?

It was a good night, good music, good people and greater booze. Remus and Sirius went out for a smoke so you made it your mission to find your own boyfriend. Fleetwood Mac was playing and you felt on cloud nine. Your hair flew with a twirl and a big smile was evident on your face, you felt pure bliss.

Marlene slumped her arm over your shoulder, yelling along to the music as she pushed a cup of mystery liquid to your lips. You took a sip with a smile, bacardi cola, and swayed along with her for a few more moments.

You caught a glimpse of James talking to a pretty blonde, his face adorned with a flirtatious smile.

You left Marlene to her friends and kept on searching for the boyfriend in question.

Felix had to be somewhere here, right? A few more steps forward you were able to see him, his reddish hair, the black watch you had given him for Christmas last year.

Then you saw the full picture, his hand was entangled in a brunette's hair, his other on her bottom and his lips on hers. Their mouths seemed to dance to a song you couldn’t hear, to taunt you.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as your fists balled. You saw red, deep red.

Your jaw tightened as you stared at the both of them, your feet seemed to have developed a mind of their own as they got you right to them.

As his eyes found yours, he pulled away. The girl turned around, her eyes wide. You see, you had a reputation. Not a good one but a reputation, alright. You were prone to use your fists before talking so as you got real close and whispered.

“Run.” She didn’t think twice and took off.

“Y/N, honey. My love, this is a misunderstanding.” His hands tried to keep you at a distance, his eyes wide. People around you formed a circle, excited to see you give way to your reputation but also scared for Felix.

“You’re dead.” You snarled before you sent him to the ground with a right hook. A tooth clattered along the stone tiles as he held his cheek.

“You don’t cheat on me.” Your hands twitched in anger as tears threatened to spill. You got on top of him and threw punch after punch, the boy now unconscious, blood everywhere. The music was still playing, people danced and you stared down on your bloody, beat ex-boyfriend without a twinge of remorse. 

Suddenly your arm was yanked and you were pulled off of Felix, who didn’t move.

“What the fuck, Y/N.” Tristan, Felix’ best friend yelled in your face. He yanked your arm once more but the more you looked at him, the more he annoyed you.

You saw Sirius and Remus approaching with worried expressions on their faces. Sirius had Tristand by the throat in an instant and Remus held you, examined your face and body.

“He’s alive.” Lily threw in, wiping her hands on her black dress.

“If you touch her again..” You didn’t listen any further as you turned around, bent down to Felix’ unconscious form and robbed him of his pack of cigarettes. Without looking back, you walked off.

“Y/N, love.” Remus called after you but you just gave him a tight smile. “Five minutes, Rem.”

He nodded and turned back around to help Sirius who was still holding back a very agitated Tristan. 

Your white summer dress was ruined, it was full of Felix’ blood. The cigarette was nearing its end and the alcohol was slowly but surely wearing off. The bliss you had felt hours ago, was gone, utterly destroyed.

“This bloody fucking party.” You mumbled more to yourself than anyone else.

“Here you are, birdy.” Remus came into sight, Sirius right behind him. “We searched for you, dove.” He spoke and sat down next to you. His hand brushed some hair out of your face, his thumb tried to gently rub some blood off your cheek but you just took another drag from your cigarette.

“We made sure no one talks.” Sirius said as he took another sip from his beer.

“He was an asshole anyways.” He tried again, but you just wouldn’t answer. Remus and Sirius shared a look, worried.

“He was undeserving of you, dove. I hope you know that.” Remus spoke before he sank to his knees before you. His big hands rested on your knees.

“You deserve so much better, someone who would wreck the world for you.” He spoke.

Your eyes now found his as you flicked the done cigarette to the ground.

“Someone who loves you unconditionally.” He rested his hand on top of yours, Sirius joined, his hand now also on yours.

“Who’s that?” Sirius hand found your cheek, thumb on your lips as he whispered. 

“Who do you think?”