#and how moral wrongness is a thing that Stains You. Personally. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shapard · 2 days

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Thorned🥀

Lucifer x human!fem!reader

A/n: Hope you enjoyyyy!

Been a while huh

They really can't catch a break

Sand

Chapter 5 < Chapter 6

This Arm was very complicated.

The new Features and flexibility were a lot to handle. The Arm was, different. You moved your arm left and right.

Weird.

Tears sting in your eyes, why were you so emotional?

Your heart squeezed, the wind you used to enjoy when it glides through your fingers was gone. Your healthy arm grasps the cold metal between your fingertips.

The Iron creaked under your force. You felt weak for crying. Weak for the loneliness that creeped into your heart. Sorrow, and Anger at the situation.

You got some information but at what cost?

You forgot everything because of the explosion. Right, the explosion. Where is Lucifer?

___

“No, No. That’s horrible.” Long fingernails dig into the head from Lucifer. How can Humans be so cruel and stupid?

No doubt that the person who wrote this is indeed still alive and a complete maniac. Who else set those traps right before you and he came? Who would do horrible things to their own kind, just to create the "perfect human".

Putting the letter into his pocket he went back to you. Lucifer opened the door slowly but stops abrupt.

Were you crying?

Why?

Are you in pain?

Lucifer went with fast pace next to you, His fingertips massaged your shoulder as he searches for your eyes. Your soft cries were hurting him.

Indeed, you were crying. Crying while holding onto your new arm for dear life. “What’s wrong kitty?” Your breath shudder, how long was Lucifer here? You turned around not wanting to show him how vulnerable you are.

Lucifer pushed you back towards him. A gesture he never done before.

You hated it.

You hate that Lucifer sees how hurt and damaged you are. Even with all those self-hatred those eyes of his made you break.

The warm smile he gifts you in return as he opens his arms. All you could do was falling in those arms and let go.

Who could blame you?

“Woah, are you okay?” Lucifer hands went up to your head as he draws a pattern into your hair. You simply shook your head and laid there between his neck and shoulder.

Obviously Lucifer knew you weren't okay. It was obvious. The way you shook under hir embrace and the tears that stained his shirt. It told it all.

Maybe you two will never be but you let yourself fall into the feeling that’s unknown to you. Is it comfort or the feeling of being loved?

You don’t know.

The way how Lucifer was softly humming you to sleep. “Just let go.” Your eyelids dropped even after all the fighting you softly snore in Lucifers arms.

“You’re really different, Y/n.” His scarlet eyes gazed at your glowing skin, no doubt beautiful. Even more with clothes off.

You draw him in. Like a nymph who calls men in the endless sea of suffering and death. He couldn't care less.

He'd die for you.

A true beauty.

Lucifer was Ignoring the topic to call it love. Every blind person could see how deep he had fallen. But you were human. Easily Breakable and soft. Too soft.

Still one question was burning in his mind.Would you eat him alive if he let you in?

He’s close to lose all his morals he built up. At first it seems easy to not fall for a human but now. He can’t Ignore how his heart is pumping and the rush of blood making him all nervous.

Lucifer wanted to stop. He didn't want this. He can't. Not after all these things that happened when he fell last time.

It stings.

His face dropped down to yours as he attached his lips onto your forehead.

Stop.

His forehead followed right after as Lucifer breathed in heavy. “I’m sorry you must go through this. I’ll bring you to peace. Home. With me maybe.”

The double standards were heavy laying on his shoulder. Conflicted voices screaming in his head. He should try, but what if it's too dangerous. What if... You don't want him?

What if you hate him for what he is?

Lucifer sits back up. Looking now out of the window. The sun was long replaced with the soft moon who lights up the dark.

Earth is really beautiful.

His face turns towards your sleeping form. The moon glow did perfection to you. A true Moon goddess.

Lucifer stood up. His pearl white hands softly pulled his shirt off his body. The stains are still wet from your crying.

A crash broke the comfortable silence. A stone flew into the glass, making it shatter into smaller pieces.

One cutting your cheek. You didn’t wake up. With a another loud crash a golden reptilian eye catches Lucifers bright red ones.

The appearance was different but the smell of a that demon is very familiar to Lucifer.

“You.” Lucifer growled as he looked to the demon. “Long time no see your Majesty.” The demon spat at Lucifer and more demons jumped out for an attack.

Lucifer jumped out of the attacks and dragged you with him.

The other demons have managed to make small damage to Lucifer but nothing he can’t fix. A snap with his fingers and the demons were burning in the raging red of Lucifers flames.

The flames of hell.

The snapping and cracking of demon flesh, Lucifers red eyes pierced through the burning flames as the Demons yellow eyes flashed back to him. “Striker.” Lucifer growled, his teeth bearing as he watched every movement of Striker closely.

The screams made you shift in your position but you haven't opened an eye yet.

Lucifers hands were tight around your waist, his eyes never leaving strikers. “You blue blooded freaks always take what they want. Leave my girl alone, Morningstar.” Lucifer breathing got hotter, and the flames made it uncomfortable warm to you.

"Your girl? Hah, never knew you liked degrading." The smirk Lucifer gave Striker only boiled Strikers blood. The rage filled eyes of these two were intimidating.

The oxytocin was thin, and your lungs tried to get every bit of air in. Lucifers eyes worriedly switched to your body, sensing the trouble your body was having.

Why haven’t you woken up?

The hair on his body raised as striker shot into your leg, still no reaction. “Y/n!” The moment Lucifer let his guard down another bullet strikes his shoulder, the golden blood poured onto your shirt.

“Oh? She doesn’t wake up?” Lucifers red eyes quickly stayed Striker. Till he heard the sound of glass hitting another. A small bottle was in Striker’s hand. His smirk never leaving the imp demon.

“What have you done?” Lucifer doesn’t want to even think about it.

Did He even want to know what is in this bottle?

His heart clenched heart as sweat pearled down his forehead, his muscles tensed. Has Striker poisoned you? But when? How?

“Just a little,” Striker angled the bottle downwards as it substance dropped onto… you. Shocked Lucifer looked down to see you gone from his hands.

Was he so tense and off guard that he hasn’t realize how you slipped out of his hands?

Where did all this training from heaven go?

“Drop.” Strikers tongue lapped over his lips as he took out an Asmodeus crystal. Lucifer quickly react and dashed towards your body. His hands stretched outwards to grasps yours.

Striker laughed as a portal formed beneath his feet.

Lucifers scream hollowed through the walls and forest. Crows fly upwards to safe themselves of danger. Meanwhile Lucifer laid in his own blood in an empty room.

“Y/n?” Lucifer claws ripped into the dark wood from the floor, “Y/n!”

__________

Striker walked into the hall of the hospital with you in one of the hospital beds. The cold sound of shoes hitting the stone pavement was uncomfortable and pestered to hear.

“You’ve got her?”

A/n: I wanted to post earlier but I had to fix some things✋🏽😭💀

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whatever-you-can-give-me · 8 months

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man. racism in fandom is one of those things that brings to mind that tumblr post about realizing there's a spot on the wallpaper and peeling it back to reveal black mold has taken over the entire house.

i was trying to draft a post about the hypocrisy of people insisting that people don't draw wolfwood brown enough, heavy implication that any fanart compliant to his stampede design [and sometimes his older designs, which are not as dark as his fandom design would imply] (including that which portrays him as east asian, which is probably how he was designed and how many east asian artists draw him, but i digress, the colorism thing is a Different Post) is Doing Something Wrong TM and should be treated as such, when "wolfwood must be This Brown, This Hot, This Buff, This Racialized to pass" is a significant contributor to the whole "vashwood, but wolfwood is a sex god papi with massive honkers and an even bigger dick, and vash is a 150 year old blushing virgin whose delicate flower has never been touched by a man" stereotype bullshit, because of how certain fandomgoers especially in slash fandom view brown men.

and then i realized that "the shift in wolfwood's characterization in fanwork [and the corollary effect on vash as his designated white boyfriend] has direct correlation to him being fanon-redesigned into a much more racialized and darker-skinned character than in any iteration" is like. SO many layers deep in the analysis of fandom politics and requires SO much awareness and acceptance of the genuinely fucked up patterns of slash fandom and online fandom in general.

...and most people who are Being Mad On Twitter To Indicate Their Moral Values do not get that far. most people see the spot on the wallpaper and get really mad about the spot, because if they acknowledged the black mold, they wouldn't get to continue to live in The House That Fandom Built without knowing something's wrong with it anymore.

#reblogs off & no organizational tags because this is kind of a Use Bat On Hornet's Nest kind of post #but i was watching an analysis of gamergate. and the desire to not be robbed of one's innocence to certain bad things happening #because that would cast moral judgement on You for participating if you continue to #because once you know. you're not just acting without awareness (which would be morally neutral)#you're acting WITH awareness. and if you choose to act that way it's Morally Wrong.#and most people who were raised in an xtian society like the usa have not unhooked their concept of morality from the concept of the soul #and how moral wrongness is a thing that Stains You. Personally.#and that behavior of. not investigating or delving deeper being the only way to stay untainted. has been on my mind recently #and then i made the mistake of looking at twitter and immediately felt very tired.

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longagoitwastuesday · 1 year

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I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).

The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.

Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.

Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.

I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.

#Don't get me wrong. Odysseus is super shitty and this is a 'pick your poison' kind of situation #But I don't really think there's a double standard when it comes to the kids situation given that Odysseus doesn't sacrifice his own kid #I really think that's what lies at the core of this. Does that make him shittier and more selfish and a worse person? Actually yeah perhaps #But we are no kings with thousands of people depending on our decision yet cringe at the idea of hurting people close to us #It feels like betrayal. And this is where the moral preference takes the role. Which do you prefer? The one that would betray their family #for the greater good or the one who'd sell the world for their family and themselves? It's interesting because #while in fiction the first option is often the most frown upon while selfish actions for the beloved are easy to sympathise with‚#in reality these are usually worse regarded. I didn't want to go there because I already wrote so much it didn't fit in the tags #but I actually think the same thing happens with Galahad/Lancelot. Heathcliff/Edgar I'd say has a somewhat similar situation going on #There are many many examples but mainly I was thinking of Galahad and Lancelot #So this is not an 'Odysseus did nothing wrong'. This is an 'Odysseus did many things very wrong but he didn't kill his son #so while both him and Agamemnon were the cause of death of kids‚ their action are not the same so there's no double standard regarding #the particular action of sacrificing Iphigenia. In fiction that kind of betrayal makes characters often unlikeable'#I guess that action 'stains' the view under which Agamemnon's actions are seen and so his character is often seen under a darker light #He is presented a bit as an antagonistic presence opposed to Achilles who is very popular so I guess that also influences this?#Anyway I've been elated by the musical causing Odysseus art and posts but I do have noticed that he is very goodified in it and that #it has influenced how he is being regarded around here (the way it happened with The Song of Achilles as well I suppose)#And I must say I like that less. He is shitty in a fun way but not in a light way. He is very shitty #Definitely not better than Agamemnon depending on the perspective you take. I can't believe I'm 'defending' Agamemnon #He is not my thing at all I'm all for selfish actions for oneself and the loved ones through manipulation‚#lies and scams and letting the world drown if needed. In fiction Lancelot's‚ Odysseus' and Heathcliff's actions are a lot more preferible #to me than Galahad's‚ Agamemnon's and Edgar's. But yeah #I ALSO didn't want to go there because again it would have take me forever and I would run out of tags (yet here I am)#but there's also a Priam/Hector/Paris comparison in how they act and how they're regarded to be drawn here #Agamemnon/Iphigenia‚ Priam/Hector/Paris‚ Odysseus/Telemachus. And that is not even including everything with Elektra/Clytemnestra/Orestes #or Oedipus and his own family for that matter #But yes. I'll better shut up already. I'm talking a lot more than I intended #I just found that discussion super enthralling and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I still can't #I talk too much #I should probably delete this later

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eddiesxangel · 8 days

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Give Me Everything | E.M x PlusSize!Reader

Anonymous requested: I was wondering if you could do a story on a plus size best friend reader.. who was asked out by a jock on a dare or who Eddie walks into her room to see her sitting on the floor upset because her favourite dress is getting tight.. and he shows her how much he loves her body even if she can't see it... Maybe with like a praise/breeding kink.. or whatever you want to do 😁🫠👉👈 Recently went through a weight gain, and I'm so hard on myself.

AN: As a plus-size girly myself, I got you bbg. 😚

CW: bestfrined!Eddie x f!reader, self-loathing, self-depreciation, weight gain, body image, Eddie is a big ol' simp, soft dom, praise, oral, p in v, breeding kink, creampies, Pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl etc.)

wc: 3k

When the former basketball team captain ran into you at the local bar and asked you out, you were hesitant to say yes.

Your body never bothered you…until it did. The perks, your tits never looked better; the downside was you felt big. You’re still getting used to this new body, the body that you didn’t like.

Maybe your favourite dress would be the thing to help. So you dug into the depths of your closet. It has been a while since you’ve even attempted to put it on. The summer months were finally here; you could use this pick-me-up.

You stepped into the A-line skirt. So far, so good. When you tried to bring the straps up, things took a turn. It felt so tight; it dug into your soft flesh, your skin popped out around the straps, and the buttons in the front weren’t even close enough together to do up. You turn to see the taught fabric surrounding your back, all lumpy with back rolls.

Silent tears start to shed as you look at yourself in the full-length mirror. You never even heard the knock on your door or the lock click when your best friend entered your home with his copy of the key. You didn’t see how Eddie’s face dropped when he saw you criticizing every inch of your body. The way his heart broke when he saw your tear-stained cheeks in the reflection of the mirror.

Eddie knew you had a date. He came for moral support and to maybe convince you not to go for his own personal reasons.

He was shocked when you revealed the name of the guy who had asked you out. Jason Carver. Number one douchebag of class of ‘87. He thought you were joking, but you didn’t grow up in Hawkins; you moved here after college. No way you would have known the country club- bible-thumping moron was his arch-nemesis all those years ago.

“Y/N”

You jumped when the soft whisper of Eddie’s voice filled the room.

“Eddie, I didn’t hear you come in.” You quickly try to wipe away the tears, embarrassed that he saw you like this, looking like this.

You quickly grab your oversized t-shirt and pull it over your head to cover up your shame.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You’re quick to reply.

“Don’t do that, you always do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” He gently takes your hand and pulls you to the bed.

“It’s so embarrassing.” Your voice cracks, and you want to die.

“It’s me we are talking about, babe; nothing you can do is embarrassing.”

Eddie was right; you shared everything. He knew all of your deepest, darkest secrets. All of them, but this one.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before speaking.

“I’m no model, I’m not the size I use…” You look down, and you are not able to finish your sentence. It hurt too much to say out loud. "Nothing fits me anymore." You mumble.

“What?” He stroked the back of your head, trying to calm you.

“Nothing fits me anymore!” You break.

“So we will buy new clothes.”

“That’s not-ugh. You don’t get it,” he would never understand.

“Then tell me.”

“I never used to be like this.” You gestured to yourself.

“Like what?”

“Big!”

“You’re not big”

“Eddie… stop. I am… I just wanted to put on my favourite dress to feel better about myself, but now it doesn’t fit me anymore.” You sniffle.

“Y/N.” your name fell off of Eddie’s lips-laced with such sorrow.

“And now I have to find something to wear for this date in two hours, and I have nothing. I don’t even know if I like the guy, but he’s the first one who asked me out in a year, and I just wanted to feel pretty… to feel wanted... desired.”

“You are pretty; you are beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that.” your mouth speaks, but you can't ignore the butterflies that come with those words.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” Eddie poured his heart out.

“You have to say that- you’re just trying to make me feel better.

“I’m really not, and if Jason doesn’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve to go out with you.” He shuffled closer to you. “That guy is a fucking loser! Peaked in high school. It’s killing me that you agreed to go out with him.”

“Maybe that’s what I deserve…”

“What?”

"If he is the only kind of guy that wants me it's what I deserve."

"Don't you dare say that," Eddie cups your face to force you to make eye contact.

"Why on earth would you think so little of yourself?"

"Because... no one wants the big girl." your eyes glazed with tears once again.

Eddie knew he fucked up by not telling you his feelings earlier on, but he was scared.

"Let me show you how beautiful you are. Please."

"What?"

"I can't watch you go on this date without letting you know that it should have been me to ask you first. I was scared of what it would do to us, but I like you; I like you more than a friend should. I think about you all the time, and I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want you to understand that your body is the most perfect thing I have ever seen.

"Eddie I-"

"Please"

"O-okay."

Eddie crashes his lips into yours. Nothing about this is sweet. It is primal and needy, like he can finally drink you in after weeks of thirst. His hand travels to the back of your head and gently lays you back on the bed. His body is hovering over yours as your fingers tangle in his hair. He tastes like spearmint gum and cigarettes. You breathe in his woodsy cologne, giving you a head rush.

His kisses become more gentle, more calculated as the both of you begin to mould into one. Curious hands travelled under your skirt as he felt the soft skin of your thigh, bringing it up so he could get closer.

The skirt of the dress you still had on fell, exposing more of your leg, and Eddie couldn't resist taking a peek.

He rose, and you let out a soft moan at the loss of contact.

"It's okay, baby. I just needed to see you. How beautiful you are spread open for me."

That made you flush. Never have you seen this side of Eddie before. Only in your wildest fantasies could you dream of these words being spoken from his mouth.

the self-consciousness quickly set in as you needed to close your legs, but Eddie's strong hand found the meat of your inner thoughts and pried them open with ease.

"No baby, I need you to be a good girl, and keep these open. Do you think you can do that for me?" He leaned in and gently kissed your inner thigh, another part of you you've been particularly loathing lately.

"i don't know" IT was so overwhelming.

"We don't have to keep going if you don't want to... But I would be honoured if you let me have you this way." It would be the highest compliment, the most trust you put into a man.

"I want to, but im nervous." You've not shown anyone your body since the weight gain; you never wanted to. But something about Eddie made you feel safe and wanted.

"we will go slow. I want to savour every second." He smirked and you couldn't help but cover your face. Why was he making you feel so giddy?

"No, no. I need to see you, pretty girl." Eddie's rough fingers intertwined with yours as he peeled your hands away from your face.

"You can't say things like that to me!" you squeak.

"Why? dose it make your pussy feel all tingly?"

"Eddie!"

"Oh, I bet it does; you like me talking you up? Good, because so do I." His lips latched on yours once again, and his tongue made its way into your mouth before he pulled away to kiss his way down your neck until your shirt got in the way.

"Take it off." His hands slid underneath, feeling the fabric of the tight dress bunched up around your middle. This was another barrier he would need to convince you to get rid of.

"Eddie..."

"Please? I want to make you feel good." His hands inched up further and further towards your breasts.

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh before nodding in agreement. Your hands find the hem of your shirt before slowly peeing it off, exposing your lacy bra.

"Fuck" You hear Eddie exhale above you.

When you slowly open your eyes, you see a man above you, full of lust and primal desire. A man to whom you thought never to be attracted to you, yet here he is, ready to devour you like you're his last meal.

"You're so fucking perfect." He reaches to grope you, not able to resist not touching your chest.

He can feel your pebbled nipples through the thin blue lace that hardly concealed anything. The thought that Jason was the one who might have gotten to see this instead of him drove him mad with jealousy.

You swore you heard him mumble the word 'mine' before leaning in to kiss your skin right above where the bra lay on your breast. His plump lips were so soft on your skin as his kisses turned into licks and nips through the fabric. His hands cupped and squeezed your tits as you watched him become a man possessed.

You arched your back up into Eddie as he fondled you; you can also feel how hard Eddie is becoming against your thigh.

You moaned his name, and that only made Eddie need you more.

“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to taste you, baby?”

“No,” your breath is sharp and shocked.

“No?” He cocks his head, “Well, I need to get better at showing you just how much I need you.” He takes your hand and guides it to his jeans, where his cock is strained beneath.

Your eyes widen as you feel the stiff outline before you reach up to kiss him, but he pulls away, making his way down your body as he pulls down your dress, leaving you in only your matching panties and bra.

Your hands instinctively cover your stomach, but Eddie beats you to it, catching your hands mid-air and tilting his head.

“I don’t think so, baby; it’s just me.” He guides your hands to rest beside your body before he tentatively moves his own hands to your inner thighs.

“You trust me?” He continued.

You can’t form words; the only thing you can do is nod your head dumbly. No one had made you feel so desired, wanted... needed.

“Good girl”

Eddie finds his own hands pushing your legs open as far as they can go so he can see the wet patch that has formed in the gusset of your panties. A knowing smirk breaches his face as he leans forward to lay a gentle kiss on your covered pussy lips before taking a deep breath in. Your scent filled his nostrils, making you squeak with embarrassment.

“Eddie!”

“Can’t help myself, you smell so delicious…. Can’t wait to taste you.” He hooks a finger in your panties to move them to the side.

“So pretty,” he whispered into your lower lips before leaning a long wet kiss to your clit.

“Oh god!” You cry, arching your back into him as he makes out with your pussy.

“Tastes even better than you smell, baby.”

His tongue licks a long, drawn-out strip from your home to your clit, making you even wetter than before.

A mix of Eddie’s saliva and your slick coat on your inner thighs as he ravished you. The way his lips and tongue worked your clit and folds was head spinning.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You cry as your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

Your body shakes beneath your best friend don’t let go until he’s consumed all of you.

“Holy shit,” you catch your breath. No other words came to mind as your blissed-out state takes over all of you.

“You did such a good job f’me” he mumbled into your pussy before pulling back.

You see his shiny lips and chin break into a smile as he crawls back up your body to kiss you. You pull him down into you, and his body weight feels so good on top of you. You need more; you need to be closer.

“More,” you say into the kiss.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not even close to being done with you.”

“Eddie, please.” You whine, hardly recognizing your own voice. You’re so full of want and need for Eddie. He is the only thing you can focus on.

“Patients, baby,” he leans back to remove his clothes.

First came his shirt and then his belt; you watched as his ring-clad fingers skilfully undid the intricate lock of the belt buckle and teased you as he slowly undid his pants.

Your hands travelled up your chest, and you played with your nipples to entice Eddie to move faster, but he was savouring the moment. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks; he had been waiting too long for this moment to not make it last.

"You're so pretty spread out like this, just for me."

“I want you so bad,” you moan as his boxers finally are tugged from his waist, and what you’ve wanted the most is sprung free. “I need you.”

“You have me, all of me.” Another feverish kiss was taken, and you couldn’t help but grind your bare hips into his own.

“No more waiting.”

“No more waiting baby, I have you.” You feel him rock the warm head of his cock through your cum soaked folds back and forth collecting your slick so he can slide into you with ease.

“Baby please.” You beg.

“What about protection?”

“No condom” you shake your head.

“No? You want me to fill this pretty little pussy? Claim you? Breed you? Make you mine?”

“Yes” you plead with a hint of desperation in your voice. The glint behind your eyes was too much for Eddie to say no.

“You want to be mine?”

“So bad, Eddie. Please, I want to be yours. I’ll give you everything, please.”

“Such a good girl. I like it when you tell me what you want.” He stroked the side of your face before cupping it to take you into a long kiss as his cock penetrated your leaking hole.

Another muffled moan from the both of you filled the room as his cock stretched your inner walls. Never had you had someone this big before; it's been a little over a year since you’ve had sex with a man. You don’t remember why you’ve waited this long. All thoughts about body image and self-hatred melted away with each brush of his cock.

“Fucking pussy is so tight.” He gritted through his teeth, trying not to spill his load into you already. Eddie swore he died and this was heaven. Your pussy was heaven on earth; nothing ever felt this good, not anyone, not anything.

“Faster.” Your hips matched his rhythm as you ground down onto his cock.

"You sure you can handle it, baby?"

"Yes!"

Lewd sounds of wet skin slapping filled the empty space of your bedroom. Cries of pleasure and touches of wanting filled the space and one another minds as the two of you couldn't get enough.

"Love how needy you are for me. Just can't resist my cock can you baby?"

unintelligible left your lips as Eddie rocked furiously into you.

"Anwer me, baby, or I'll stop. You were doing so good before."

"Yes! I want your cock." you cried.

"I'm so proud of you; you're taking me so well. Who's my beautiful girl?"

"m-me," you stutter as his cock brushes your spot.

"Fuck youre so beauiful. You're going to be even more beautiful after you're filled with my cum. You want hat baby? Want my load inside of you?"

"Yes!" your fingers dig into the flesh of Eddies back, leaving raised red scratches in their wake.

"Please- wanna cum so bad." you breath

"Fuck yes, baby, claim me. Make me yours cum on my cock."

It didn't take much longer as Eddie began to play with your swollen bud of nerves before you were falling apart all over again. A silent scream, your jaw hung lax as the sound gets caught in your throat, and another tidal wave, this one bigger than the last, washed over your whole body as his cock and fingers continued to work your needy pussy.

Eddie watched your fucked out state feeling so satisfied with himself. "Fuck that's my girl, squeezing me so fucking good." You feel Eddie jerk one last time before he spills everything inside of you. "Fucking take it."

You snap out of it when you feel the weight of Eddie collapses on top of you. You let out a giggle in your blissed-out state.

"Something funny, pretty girl?"

"No-no, everything is perfect. Thank you, Eddie." You brushed his swaety hair off his perspiering face.

"No baby, I think I need to be thanking you. Never has anyone let me fuck them like that."

"Never?" You shy away, realizing what youve asked of him.

"Don't worry. You're the only one I've ever wanted to do that with. I think you unlocked something inside of me." He kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Yea, I like you... a lot. If that's not obvious."

"I like you too, Eddie."

"I sure hope so you let me cum in you." He snorted.

"God, you're so vulgar."

"Yea, but you like it. "

"I do."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson request #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson x best friend reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 3 months

Text

How John Comes Home from Deployment

CoD ML

John hates coming home from deployment during the cold periods of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves the sight of you asleep in your shared bed, wrapped up nice and snug in the thick comforter. A smile never fails to spread on his lips when he notices the pattern of your shirt, barely visible in the dusk yet enough for him to notice. Fortunately he has his flannel shirts to keep you warm when he can’t.

John knows you’re more than capable to take care of yourself. Nevertheless, he can’t help but grit his teeth at the thought you had to tuck yourself in yet again. That’s his job!

But the annoyance, as per usual, subsides at the scene in front of him: you snuggling with the warmy (a stuffed animal that contains a bag with cherry pits you have to heat in the microwave) he got you. He vividly recalls how you giggled that day, the way you compared him to the brown grizzly bear in your hands. “A rather striking image, innit? It’s like looking in the mirror.”

“That how you see me?”

“Especially in the morning when you haven’t had your cigar and tea yet.” He wrapped you up in his arms, pride swelling in his chest as you snuggled into it. “You’re my bear.”

My bear.

It’s the nickname he never envisioned himself liking. However, now, there isn’t anything else he’d rather be called.

Aside from Daddy.

John has embedded the way you say it in his fantasy and often thinks of it, plays it like his favourite song over and over. Out in the field, it’s a sure fire way for him to not lose morale. Moreover, it fuels his determination to return home, no matter the cost.

(And the rest of his boys too, of course!)

He has to.

If only because there is an important question he needs to ask. Should right now, after months of gathering the courage.

But he lets you sleep.

This can wait until the morning.

Quietly John puts his stuff in the corner by the door, grabs a shirt and pair of sweats out of your shared wardrobe, and slips into the bathroom to change. However, not before he has caressed your cheek, made sure he’s kept his promise. The talon of anguish lets go of his throat when he finds your skin dry and free of the little salty black rivulets that stained it last time. Thank God, he hasn’t made you cry again.

“The next time I do, I’ll retire,” he recalls telling you when he lifted you off of the couch. You’d fallen asleep there, wrapped up in your favourite white fluffy blanket like a burrito.

For as long as you could, you stayed awake to welcome him home in person. Unfortunately, you lost the fight around one in the morning. Two hours later, John stepped through the door, knackered and a little heartbroken at the sight of you clutching one of his shirts like it’s your lifeline. He didn’t mind the stains your mascara had made on it.

The same can’t be said for the fact your act had crumbled behind his back yet again. Time and again he’s told you it’s fine to cry, to tell each other you miss them, to not always pretend to be fine.

Because he knows you aren’t.

And neither is he.

Yet the decision he’s made might change things, bring some peace. Even if you tell him he’s insane and shouldn’t do it because it will be like throwing away everything he stands for, he stands by his word.

This was the final mission.

From now on, he’s simply John Price.

A man craving to settle down with his beloved.

The girl who instinctively snuggles into him the moment he lies down. Whose presence soothes and dispels the worst of his ghosts. Who drives his determination to improve himself day by day.

To do better as a man rather than a captain.

To be the best husband he can be.

Until then, John is as he is now.

Exhausted yet perfectly content.

Next to his fiancée.

Home.

#John Price #Captain John Price #Captain John Price x Reader #John Price x Reader #CoD x Reader #CoD MW #CoD MW Price

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suguruplsr · 6 months

Text

oh how you hate that man.

,, gn! reader , fluff + slight angst <3

“missed me?” suguru mutters into your skin. your tired eyes flutter open, unfortunately, graced with the sight of the black haired man on top of you. you don’t care for how he even got here in your house, or when he did. but you know why he’s here.

always for you. the person he can’t bear to leave behind.

“no.” you whisper. suguru’s heart should ache in sadness, but it only makes him feel more eager, hands roaming your body with fervor. “no?” you can hear the amusement in his voice, a slight smile forming on his face as his lips find your neck. you tilt your head, not answering and simply basking in the feather-like touches of his chapped lips.

but he pulls away, a hand reaching up to you neck and wrapping around it. no pressure, just his thumb running up your throat and guiding your head so you two lock eyes. “really?” “really.” you’re almost matching his grin. did he really think you could possibly miss the touches and presence of someone you’re now forced to kill. how funny.

no matter how deep your relationship is with him.

no matter how safe you feel trapped under him.

“say it again.” suguru hums, leaning down to take your lips, and you let him. but this time, you reciprocate. a gentle hand reaching up to his undone hair and raking through it as your lips fit together perfectly. it’s a rare passionate kiss, well, compared to the rush-filled ones you two have shared over the past year. late nights of your window wide open, being snatched up by the murderer who always seemed to sweet talk you into enjoying just one more night with him.

no matter how wrong it is.

but.. it’s okay.

you can just do it another time, you tell yourself.

“i don’t miss you..” you murmur against his lips, breathless as he pulls away with a laugh, humored by your resistance. “you do. you try to ignore it baby. the blood staining my hands..” suguru mumbles, biting your ear as his hands travel to your thighs, leaning back on his knees. “cuz you know, with you, these hands love you.” and you hate that he’s right, you hate that he’s so right because you just let him wrap your legs around him.

he’s willingly bringing himself to you.

it’s okay, you can just kill him next time.

suguru looks down at you knowingly while your eyes flicker away. “you love me?” he smiles, catching every subtle movement you make, before you can even utter your disdain. even the ones you don’t make speak to him. like the way your hands don’t move away from the familiar purchase on his stomach, flush against his v-line as if you would push him away. but he know you won’t.

you can’t.

you can’t do it.

not from how the only thing on your mind was to just feel him, to bypass all the mixed emotions and confusion you desperately want to express. he knows how to make you feel good.

yea, that’s all.

“sometimes..” you sigh. maybe that’s why you’ll just indulge him for now. you’re too tired for his mind games. as if you two aren’t completely different people now, with completely different morals, lives, and values outside of your room. outside the room where you two confide in your love, sex, affection.

something only suguru know how to provide to someone like you.

someone on such a high pedestal.

just not higher than the people who want his blood on your hands.

“i know.” suguru chuckles. “but i’ll always love you.”

you remember those words exactly as satoru repeats them to you, a solemn look on his face. “those were his last words to me?” you clench your fists, calming your trembling fingers as he nods. “well i don’t care.” oh but you do. he knows. satoru will always know. he watches your figure walk away. he’s the only one that can see how you experience the internal battle in your head. tears almost breaking free of your blurry eyes to flow and curse the man.

the man who turned your teenage life into a jungle of love and adventures.

the man who twisted your mind into one of hate and despise for him.

the man who ruined you.

you hate him. Geto Suguru, whose only chain of his past before corruption was you.

you hate that man, you swear.

but, oh how you still love him..

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tkaulitzlvr · 9 months

Note

2008 tom forcing reader to answer a call from her bf while they're secretly fucking, going faster and whispering dirty things in her ear as shes on call to tease her, making it harder for her to not to make any noise🤭🤭

btw I love ur writings sm, one of my fav writers fr😩

thankyouu😽🙏🏻

ANSWER IT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: your boyfriend calls you at a pretty inconvenient time, but tom forces you to answer, and you have to disguise what is really happening, tom not making it easy for you.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon! and oh my god this req is such a good idea, literally as soon as i saw it i knew it was gonna be the next one i write, and i had so much fun making this so thank u so much for requesting i hope u like it!!💞

come over, no one else is home. 10:47pm

i stared at the text message as it came through, the words looking back at me, contemplating on whether i should give in or not. my mind, the more rational, morally correct side of me, tells me that i should say no, reminding me that i have a boyfriend, who would be home from his business trip in just a couple of hours. but, the fact that my heart should have belonged to someone else had never stopped me before. my heart was more reckless, making rash decisions that spoke only for my impulses, not the part of me that felt guilty for what i had been doing for the past few months, completely unbeknownst to my boyfriend.

it was never meant to turn out like this, no. what was firstly settled as a ‘drunk mistake’ that my boyfriend wouldn’t have to know about became a sober fuck, one that happens at least once a week. i am hooked, unable to stay away from tom despite the constant nagging that reminds me how much of an evil person i am. but my guilty conscience is not strong enough to win me over, so i keep going back, completely addicted to the way tom feels, my boyfriend unable to give me the same satisfaction.

he is kind, loyal, loving. i don’t deserve him, really. he would come home from work every evening, completely oblivious of the fact that another man had been inside of me just hours before, intimate with me in the bed that we would sleep in every night - he knows nothing about any of it.

and it is this that reminds me that i should decline tom’s offer, my eyes still blazing into the phone screen as the message stares at me. i have a boyfriend, this is wrong. the voice inside of my head says, chanting it over and over, convincing me to make the right decision for once, instead of acting purely on desire. he would be heartbroken if he ever found out, he doesn’t deserve this. my conscience continues, on the brink of winning me over, the shame of what i have become sinking into me, nothing about this entire thing justifiable on my part. i can put a stop to this, do the right thing, all i need to do is say the word.

k, i’ll be over soon. 10:51pm

i sigh, a little embarrassed at my lack of self-control, knowing that tom has me wrapped around his finger, unable to decline his invitation. the blood is on my hands, staining my innocence, and i am far too into this to ever go back to the way things once were. i jump out of bed, rushing over to the mirror and inspecting my appearance. my makeup is a little messed up, so i take time fixing it, making sure i look perfect for tom, adjusting my hair after, removing any knots in at as it falls to my shoulders. finally satisfied, i grab my keys, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me, making my way to the parking lot.

i unlock my car, climbing in cautiously, checking that my boyfriend hadn’t unexpectedly arrived home early before turning off my location on my phone, getting used to doing these things to avoid getting caught as much as i could. the car engine starts with a low hum, radio quietly sounding out in the background as i drive to tom’s house, the guilt soon fading away as excitement buzzes around me.

the familiar house comes into view, but i park a little further down the street, not wanting to make it obvious that i was there in case my boyfriend did find out where i was. the street is dark as i climb out of my car, locking it before quickly walking towards his house, checking behind me and knocking on the door.

tom opens it within a few seconds, smirking whilst looking me up and down, moving to the side and giving me room to walk in. he shuts the door behind him, not wasting any time as he pushes me forcefully against the wall, attaching his lips to mine.

“missed you.” he mutters into the kiss as i whine a little in response, already too into it to give him a proper answer, but judging by the way his hands travel down my back, squeezing my ass firmly, it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking anyways.

but i didn’t mind, our hookups strictly sexual, no romance behind them. sure, he would whisper things into my ear in the heat of the moment, but i knew that it didn’t mean anything, and i didn’t want it to either. despite betraying my boyfriend in the most evil way possible, i didn’t want to end things with him, somehow still feeling something towards him though he could never pleasure me the way tom does.

without breaking the kiss, tom’s hands hook around my thighs, lifting me upwards as i instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, our lips moving against each other’s as he carries me to his bedroom, my hands locked around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders.

my back collides with the bed as he places me onto it, his hand flush against my back for support as he falls onto it with me, our lips never breaking, his body now on top of mine. he clearly doesn’t want to tease me, his hands finding the bottom of my hoodie, pulling it off and leaving it somewhere on his carpet, leaving me in only my shorts and small pink bra. he smirks at my lack of clothing, drinking it all in whilst his fingers play with the waistband of my shorts. he takes them off too, seeing that my panties match the bra, his tongue moving to the corner of his mouth.

“all this for me, hm?” he smirks, moving my thighs apart and leaning downwards, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them slightly as i let out a small moan, blushing at his words and nodding my head. “i bet he doesn’t touch you like i do, get you to put in all this effort for him.”

tom continues to taunt me, the mention of my boyfriend causing my heart to wrench, guilt settling in my stomach as it is enough to remind me how much of a bad person i am. but, the second tom pulls his t-shirt off, revealing his toned frame, adorned with muscle in all the right places, his abs on full display, any thought of my boyfriend is long gone, my eyes and mind only focused on what is in front of me - the view admittedly far better than anything he could ever give.

tom reconnects our lips, his tongue entering my mouth, hips beginning to grind against mine at a torturously slow pace, hands moving to swiftly unclip my bra. i start to become impatient, fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans as i scramble for the button, undoing them as his zipper follows. he sees that i am struggling, tugging them down himself and letting his boxers come off with them.

he moves my panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them down, before sliding into me, a long moan escaping from my lips as i feel him stretch my walls, already feeling so full.

“so fucking tight, always so good.” he mutters, his forehead against mine, his breath tickling my nose as he speaks, a choked moan sounding from his lips as he is fully inside. he waits a second, studying my expression, gauging that i am okay as he almost pulls out fully, before slamming into me unexpectedly.

my breathing is heavy, body glistening with sweat as i hold onto him, my hands raking down his back as his pace speeds up, becoming more fast and relentless. i am so far gone, in too much pleasure to even process anything that is happening around me - including the sound of my phone beginning to ring.

tom, however, notices immediately, picking it up from the bedside table whilst still thrusting into me, my eyes following his movements as i am too lost in ecstasy to ask what he is doing. he turns the phone, showing me who is calling. my eyes widen as i shake my head, signalling for him to put it down, not wanting him to stop.

“answer it.” is all he says, passing the phone to me, one hand on my hips, helping him to move in and out of me easier, whilst the other holds the phone to my ear. he accepts the call, smirking as my boyfriend’s voice can faintly be heard.

“baby? hey, uh, i just got home from work. where are you?” he asks, tom nodding his head, gesturing for me to speak. a knowing smirk spreads across his face as he speeds up his thrusts, my teeth sinking into my lips to prevent a moan that is dangerously close to spilling from them.

“h-hey love.” i pant, trying to sound nonchalant, failing miserably as i feel tom hit my g-spot, a muffled whine sounding from the back of my throat.

“what are you doing? you okay?” my boyfriend asks, his tone laced with confusion.

“sorry uh- my back is sore, the usual.” i manage to get out, quickly closing my mouth as tom stares into my eyes, enjoying the way i struggle, showing no sympathy as he only drills into me faster. “i’m- i’m at my mom’s house.”

the excuse is terrible, tom furrowing his brows once i utter the words, making me realise how unbelievable it is. but, he finds my lack of thought amusing, smiling a little before resting his head in the crook of my neck, planting rough, open-mouthed kisses there. i sigh out in response, quickly covering my mouth as i mentally curse my self.

“your mom’s place? what are you doing there? it’s like nearly midnight.” my boyfriend responds, clearly hesitant to buy my excuse.

“yeah, family emergency. i-i’ll…be home in the morning-” i have to stop my speech, pursing my lips shut as a moan is dangerously close to sounding from them.

tom smirks against my neck, goosebumps forming on the skin whilst his lips curve into a slight smile.

“look at you. getting fucked whilst your boyfriend is on the phone.” tom mutters, his voice low as he makes sure that his words can’t be made out through the phone. “so wrong. but you love it, don’t you, hm? fucking slut.”

tom continues to taunt me, paying attention to the way i bite my lip, or place my tongue on the roof of my mouth, even squeeze his upper arms, anything to stop any noise from coming out of my mouth, desperate to stay undetected.

“what? is everything okay?” my boyfriend asks, showing concern as he tries to extend the situation, much to my annoyance, unable to keep this up for much longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out in pleasure. “should i come-”

“no!” i quickly say, a little harsher than i initially intended to, the utterance a mix of desperation and an attempt to hold back a moan, the combination coming out as an abrupt plea. “i mean- she, she’s just…a little overwhelmed.”

tom begins to kiss the skin below my ear, biting at it gently, knowing this spot drives me crazy, and once i shiver a little, he knows that he has me right where he wants me, changing his thrusts a little as the new angle causes a familiar knot to build in my stomach.

“could he make you feel like this, hm? only i can, right baby?” he whispers, knowing the effect that he has on me, no need for me to verbalise it, the way my eyes screw shut at his movements enough to confirm it. “so needy, letting me do this to you whilst he can hear. if only he knew…”

his words against my neck combined with the new angle makes the urge to moan almost unbearable as i bite down onto tom’s shoulder, a low grunt escaping his mouth at my unexpected action. yet it only fuels his stamina as he chuckles under his breath, enjoying the effect he has on me, the thrill of the entire situation turning him on even more.

“oh, just, let me know if you need anything okay? i love you.” my boyfriend says, finally wrapping up the conversation as i sigh in relief, feeling at ease as i have somehow managed to pull this off.

but tom clearly isn’t satisfied with how i have managed to stay quiet, desperate to get some sort of noise out of me, and, he knows exactly how to do that. one hand still holding the phone to my ear, he moves his other downwards, using it to rub circles on my clit whilst thrusting in and out of me. and that is all it takes for a restricted moan to leave my lips, unable to be mistaken for anything else. i know that i am in deep shit.

“what the fuck was that? what’s going on? are you fucking someone?” my boyfriend asks, his voice raising as he has finally picked up on what is going on.

“w-what? are you crazy? of course not!” i quickly say, panting through my words, no longer able to hide it, knowing that i am completely fucked.

“don’t fucking bullshit me! where the fuck are you? i can’t believe this, you’re fucking cheating on me? i swear to fucking god once i find-”

his furious rambling is cut off as tom ends the call, turning my phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, his hand now running up and down my waist.

“i did you a favour. he was fucking annoying anyways.” tom breathes out, a satisfied grin tugging on his lips, only faltering once he reconnects them with mine, the hurt of what had just happened never sinking in, tom’s movements more than enough to make me forget.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz twins #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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badkitty3000 · 3 months

Text

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

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tightjeansjavi · 11 months

Text

Jail Bird | Joel Miller x smuggler/raider f! reader

A/N: I got inspired by listening to the song “Stay” by Rihanna when I was driving home from Kentucky, and this was the result of it 🫠 you’re either gonna love, or hate the reader in this one.

~word count: 5.9k~

Summary: your relationship with Joel has always been easy up until the point that you make the conscious decision to leave him, and the QZ behind. Years later and you meet again, under violent circumstances.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, pining, stalking (if you squint) borderline possessive/obsessive behavior, smut (described but not as the main focal point of the story) conning, emotional manipulation, the reader is morally gray and you’ll either love them or hate them, actions on the base of survival, implied consent, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving) violence (undescribed but marked) possessive! Joel, vulnerable! Joel, protective! Joel, dark! Joel (if you squint) Joel is a hopeless romantic, manhandling, threats, use of firearms, smoking, +18 minors dni!

Jail Bird: ‘a person who is or has been in prison’

Your relationship with Joel Miller, your partner in crime, was as easy as sliced pie. The syrupy sticky sweet warm filling with melted vanilla ice cream drooling down the crust. Joel Miller, however, was anything but sweet. He tasted of smoky bourbon and life-long indescribable grief. Fluttering ashes, tongues tied, teeth clashing. His hands; sculpted by Greek gods in a meticulous manner. Strong, veiny, calloused yet soft. Joel Miller was a perfectly wrapped package with an ash stained bow. A dangerous combination of brooding, pining, and lust. Your partnership consisted of smuggling, sharing rations, and fucking. Joel was a man who knew how to fuck. The first time he took you was in a back alley in the QZ. The air was balmy and ridden with suspense. He caught you sneaking through the shadows past curfew to make a few back door deals with some FEDRA soldiers. A blow job for a trade of a handsome stack of ration cards? No biggie. He never felt jealousy course through his veins till he saw you sink to your knees on command.

Even with the lack of lighting, sans the pale moonlight shimmering above, Joel saw the doe like innocence in your eyes as he peeked his head around the corner. It felt wrong to watch. It weighed heavy like cement around his bones. Filth and sin dripped through his grime stained pores. He had been watching you for a while. You were a new resident to the QZ, a pretty thing that knew her way around the rules like they never even existed to you. He liked that about you. He liked that you were brash, that you outsmarted every lonesome fuck that crossed your path. So he’d observe you from a distance, catching your keen eye every now and then. It turned into an obsession for him and now the last shroud of little morals he possessed, were completely shredded as he palmed himself through his painfully tight jeans. Cursing under his breath as he tried to provide any form of relief to his aching cock. His head tilted back against the brick wall, lower lip taken harshly between his teeth as he took another risky peek around the corner.

You knew Joel was watching you. You caught his familiar, ruggedly handsome features appear from around the corner. How long he had been watching you did not matter. Your cunt ached for him just as much as his cock weeped for you. You had been observing him the day you arrived at the QZ, and you found yourself yearning for his rough caress.

Your eyes stayed locked on the spot behind the wall where Joel was pressed against as you pleasured the FEDRA soldier who lasted all of 30 seconds before he was spilling his filth down your throat and tossing ration cards at your knees. The stray dribble of cum was wiped from your lips with the tip of your thumb as you gathered up the ration cards and shoved them into your pockets as you rose to your feet. You pulled out a freshly rolled cigarette, bringing the tip to your lips as you lit the other end with an old lighter. Your features were illuminated by the warm glow of the flame as you lit the death stick and deeply inhaled. “You can come out from your hiding spot, Joel Miller. I know it’s you behind the wall. Don’t be shy.” Your head tilted to the side as you took another long drag.

Joel sauntered from behind the wall. His tall frame was brooding under the soft glow of the moon. His boots crunched heavily under rubble as he approached. Thunder lowly rumbled in the far distance as a warm breeze kissed your skin. The comforting glow of the moon was casted over in darkness of thick moving clouds as cooling droplets of water began to free fall from the heavens. The pavement was stained in dampness as the sky grumbled above. Bleach-burn hot flashes of lightning illuminated the jet black sky and illuminated Joel’s features in a blink of an eye. The rain didn’t deter him as he stopped a foot from where you stood. His gaze on you burned as brightly as the lit end of your cigarette pursed between your lips.

“You know, you’re worth a hell of a lot more than a blowjob in a back alleyway. How long did the fucker even last? 30 whole fuckin’ seconds?” He was leaning over you now, forearm resting along your head and you could feel the electricity and heat radiating from his body.

“Do you always watch women give blow jobs to FEDRA soldiers in back alleys? Or is this just a new hobby that you have suddenly developed?” You were casual with your question, a smirk playing on your lips as you lightly blew the hazardous smoke off to the side.

“No. You’re the first, darlin.’ It’s filthy of me, I am aware. Bet you liked it though huh? Bet you liked the idea of some dirty old man watching you get down on your knees prettily like that. You don’t seem like the type of gal to beat around the bush. Storms rollin’ in..wanna see if we can give the thunder a run for its money, sugar?” Joel wasn’t one to beat around the bush either and you appreciated a man that knew exactly what he wanted. Joel Miller was exactly what you needed to satiate your desires.

“You want to fuck me Mr. Miller?” You purred, flicking what was left of your cigarette to the ground, listening to the light hiss the extinguished flame gave when a stray rain drop fell upon it.

You felt his lips dip down to the shell of your ear, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin as he whispered, “wanna destroy you in the best fuckin’ way possible. Wanna ruin your sweet cunt. Been s’long for me, n’you’re so fuckin’ pretty, it hurts. Let me take care of ya, and I promise you won’t have to get on your knees for another FEDRA fuck again.” He pressed an open mouth kiss against the spot where your ear met your jaw, licking a hot stripe down your throat with a heavy warm breath.

“Is that a promise you can keep?” You whispered through the steady rainfall, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting.

“I don’t do promises, baby.” He rasped as his strong hands found purchase around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. “I only fuck. Ain’t gonna find any love from me. Don’t go and lookin’ for it.”

“I don’t do love either. It’s lost all significant meaning for me. I’m just looking for a good consistent fuck, and the means to survive.” You grasped the back of his neck in one swift movement, yanking his head up so you could crash your lips against his in a heated, tongue filled, teeth clashing kiss.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, doll. You’re mine now.” He mumbled against your swollen lips as he popped the button along your jeans and shoved his hand between the tight fabric and your soaked through panties.

“Yours.” You gasped longingly as his broad fingers teased your sticky, slick folds, gathering up your pooling arousal that oozed just for him.

The pounding rain soaked through your clothes as your thighs were wrapped tightly around Joel Miller’s hips. He was buried to the hilt inside of you as he slammed into you in a rhythmic pattern. The wind howled wildly as thunder cracked dangerously above. His hips would snap forward into you each time the thunder cracked ferociously. You and Joel were like two feral animals, clawing, biting, and moaning through the ever-growing violent tempest.

Your need for one another had grown carnal. Your bodies were constantly drawn to one another, like moth to flame. You spent more time in his apartment on the other side of the QZ than your own. He fucked you into a peaceful slumber everytime. Sometimes he’d fall asleep inside of you when he’d grown exhausted. “G’nna keep you full of my cock all fuckin’ night.” He’d whispered against your sex stained skin as his arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

You’d slip out of his steel grip before the sun would kiss the budding horizon. Sleeping over at Joel’s felt too personal, and you did it for yours and his own good. Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. He’d confront you about it each time you’d accompany him on a smuggling run. “Why’d you leave in’sucha hurrry? Think I’m ugly or somethin?’” He’d casually ask as he walked alongside you.

“We both agreed to do no sleepovers, Joel.” Was always your reply. It was like clockwork.

“Fuck our stupid rules. I want to wake up to that pretty little cunt squeezing my cock. You gonna deny me that? C’mon. One sleepover won’t kill ya. I like havin’ you in my bed darlin.’” He nudged you against a nearby tree as the early morning birds chirped along the swaying branches.

“Fine. One sleepover.” You grasped him firmly through the tight confines of his jeans as he hissed under his breath. “Just one, baby. I swear on my filthy, lust ridden heart.” He affirmed.

One sleepover turned into five, and five to a dozen, till neither of you could keep track. It’s as if Joel had made a home inside of your flesh where he refused to depart. He built a door between your sternum; strong and sturdy. On either side of your sumptuous breasts laid two crafted windows. Your heart is where his bed laid where he secretly wished he could inhabit there for the rest of his dying days.

You had grown accustomed to the old metal bed frame striking the crumbling wallpaper fiercely. The old creak and groan of the bed springs creating a rhythmic tune in sync with your sweat slick bodies colliding over, and over again. Joel took you in any position imaginable between those 4 cramped walls. He grew fond of the way you’d ride him slowly where he had the pleasure to watch the way your warm walls hugged his cock with each roll and rise of your hips. He reveled in the erotic sight of your cum mixing with his own, like your own personal watercolor painting between your connected bodies. He reveled in smearing your skin with his release, using his fingers as a paintbrush as he streaked your skin in his filth.

When he learned that you were incapable of having children, he’d press his cum back into your tight hole with glint in his darkened eyes as he used his tongue to push his cum further inside of you, humming at the taste. “Gotta keep all of that inside of ya, sweet girl. Love knowin’ I can fill ya up like this. Don’t want any drops to leak out of this cunt. Wanna keep you stained in my cum forever.” He’d kiss your clit lovingly, tenderly with a light flick of his wet muscle. His words were nothing short of filthy. Any existing priest in this shit-hole would proclaim that you and Joel were children of satan for the debauchery that you both willingly partook in.

You liked it that way.

On the evening you made the conscious decision to leave Joel, and the QZ forever. The weather was stormy, just like the night you had first officially met. The rain pounded furiously against the grime stained windows. The tattered curtains casted shadows along the peeling floral wallpaper. Bright hot flashes of lightning illuminated the room you inhabited for what felt like centuries in fluorescent white. Your thighs were deliciously squeezing either side of Joel’s head as his face was buried deeply into your ruined cunt for the fifth time that evening. His tongue worked you in practiced strokes. His hunger for you was that of a ravenous beast that hadn’t experienced the taste of a woman along his tongue in years. He lapped at you like a man starved as if your cunt was that of the holy grail, sweet and life-curing. His hands acted as anchors around your hips, holding you pliant with little strength needed, eyes blissfully closed as he drank and lapped every last drop you could possess for him. Always so willing, always so needy, always such a good, good, girl for him. Only for him.

When he finally detached his mouth from your swollen clit, he looked up at you, grinning like a devil. His beard and chin were freshly coated in your slick that glistened under the bright flashes of lightning. His lips were wet, and appeared like two dew kissed cherries, scarlet and kissable. He rested his cheek along the inside of your sweat thick thigh as he caught his breath, chest rising and falling as he gazed up at you through thick lashes. He pressed an open mouth kiss as his beard scratched your skin gently. He was in love, and yet you had no idea. Or, maybe you knew all along. Maybe you loved him too. Maybe, just maybe. “Do you think maybe we can just stay here forever?..I’ll greet ya with a kiss every mornin.’ We could just stay between these walls and no one would have to know.” He pressed a feather light kiss to your hip bone. “Just you and me, and this sweet cunt. Never have I tasted something so sweet.”

Your fingers found purchase through his sweaty tendrils, twisting them between your digits with a content sigh. “I’m leaving the QZ, Joel. I can’t stay here any longer.” The confession flitted past your lips with a heavy sigh to shortly follow.

He chuckled, the sound vibrated up his chest and through his throat that was coated in your taste like cough syrup. “What do you mean you’re leavin’ the QZ? Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Everywhere behind these fuckin’ walls is a shithole. There ain’t anythin’ good out there. I can’t fuckin’ protect you past those gates.” Another kiss was left along your abdomen.

“I never asked for, nor needed your protection, Joel. I’m perfectly capable on my own. You have to let me go. This has gone on far too long, and it’s for our own good.”

He scoffed as his lips continued to kiss their way up your body. Stopping at every freckle, every scar, every blemish. He traced them gently. “Let you go? How the fuck do you expect me to do that when I’ve learned, and know every fuckin’ inch of ya. Is it really for our own good? Or just yours? Don’t lie to me.” He nipped at the spot just below your ribcage, and your immediate reaction was to arch up closer to his touch. You always felt magnetized to him.

“You and I both know that it’s better off this way. What we had was good, and I have no regrets, but we broke every fuckin’ rule we put in place, Joel. It’ll hurt for a while, but the pain will reside and you’ll forget all about me.”

He was on his knees now, yanking you down by your ankles so you were beneath him. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me how I’ll feel. You know how fuckin’ long it’s takin’ me to finally open myself to someone again? You think you can just leave and suddenly one day I’ll stop thinkin’ about you? You’re fuckin’ out of your goddamn mind if you think that to be true.” The tip of his cock was nudged against your entrance, dragging through your slick folds that parted open for him like a canyon. He pressed himself into your tight wet hole, groaning softly at the feeling of your cunt hugging him already. “Put your thighs up against your chest fo’me.” He gritted out between clenched teeth.

Your thighs moved on command as you brought them up to your chest, bending yourself in half like a folding table as the weight of his own broad chest pushed your back further into the old mattress. “Joel, please.” You mewled. “You have to let me go. You have to.”

“Stop. Tellin’. Me. What. I. Have. To. Do.” He enunciated each symbol in a borderline patronizing way. He sunk further, and further into your warm abyss. Your pussy hugged him tighter and tighter till he had bottomed out. Sweaty strands of curls draped across his forehead like curtains as he snapped his hips forward in an aggressive manner. “You wanna leave me so bad, baby? After everythin’ I have done for you? Everythin’ I have given you? Shelter, food in your belly and a cock that knows how to fuck you stupid? You ain’t goin’ anywhere. I’ll just have to follow you. Care about you too fuckin’ much to just let you leave me like that.”

The old springs in the mattress squeaked with each one of his heavy thrusts. Your eyes rolled back as his tip pressed firmly against your cervix, eliciting stars to be casted behind your eyes. He fucked into you at an impossibly deep angle, his heavy balls hung between his thighs and slapped against your skin with every snap of his hips. “Joel, please.” You pleaded with him between moans.

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you stupid till you forget all about wantin’ to leave me? You’re not the same until you’ve had a well deserved fuck. I’m the only fuckin’ man that can give it to ya. Take it like the good fuckin’ girl that you are fo’me. Your pretty ‘lil fuckin’ pussy is huggin’ my cock so perfectly. S’like she was made ‘jus fo’me.” He was kissing you now, all teeth and tongue to shut you up. You protested words that fell muffled against his addictive lips as he fucked you the way he knew best. Always making sure you felt filled, stretched to your limits, and on cloud nine by the end of it. He always took care of you afterwards. Gently wiping between your thighs, bathing you under a warm stream with the tenderest of touches. Joel Miller loved you, and that’s exactly why you had to leave him.

He kept you anchored against his naked chest all night. Notched together like two puzzle pieces. At the strike of morning, with the soft beams of light trickling in through the wispy curtains, prying yourself from his satiating grasp. If you stayed in his warm embrace any longer, your heart would cave and you’d never leave. Without even delivering a proper goodbye, you left his apartment without looking back. You kept pushing yourself further and further from Joel, from the QZ till it was just a mere speck in the distance.

Joel drove himself mad on his search to find where you went. His anger shrouded his hurt as he scoured the QZ for any sign of your existence. He checked alleyways, the abandoned mall, your own apartment. He tore through your things in a fury, tears burning his vision as he ripped through your belongings like a predator rips apart its prey. No signs. No hidden clues for him to find where you ran off to. He inspected mutilated faces of the infected, praying that none of the once living would resemble you. None of them did. He gave up his search when he and Tess were forced to take a teenage girl across the country to the fireflies. Tess perished and soon it was just Joel and the kid. He never stopped thinking of you, of course. You haunted his dreams and sometimes he’d wake up to see your ghostly face laying beside him.

He thought he’d never see you again until one brutal winter in Jackson while he, Tommy, and a few other men were patrolling on horseback. Ellie was safely back in town, far from harm's way while Joel placed himself on death's doorstep every time he patrolled with his brother. His horses' hooves crunched heavily along the freshly fallen snow. The wind whipped and howled in an ominous tune as the bitter chill tore through his thick jacket and pierced his skin. “There ain’t nothin’ alive here for miles, Tommy. Let’s go back. That rumor we heard about a raiders camp is probably false. Besides, you said it yourself, ain’t no man is stupid enough to try and overthrow the town.” Joel rode up alongside Tommy’s horse.

“The cold botherin’ you or somethin’ brother? Thought you were tougher than that.” The younger Miller brother said with an amused grin as he lightly punched Joel in the shoulder.

The wholesome moment quickly turned to chaos as 3 shots rang through the snow covered evergreens. Your group had been closely stalking Joel and Tommy for hours in the shadow of the forest. It wasn’t your first choice to join a raider group. Why the men spared you that day was beyond you, but they had become your new family, and you’d take whatever protection you could get; good or bad. You were the mastermind behind ambushing the group from Jackson. Driven by greed and bloodlust, you convinced your men that they could take down the patrol group, and overthrow the town. A lack of poor judgment proved to be fatal as you were thrown from your horse and tumbled into the snow. Your gun was kicked violently from your grasp with a heavy boot as you let out a feral scream.

The same boot that disarmed you, kicked your body down into the snow with a heavy thud. Adrenaline coursing through your veins clouded your senses as you held your hands up in defense at your perpetrator. You could only see his eyes as the rest of his face was covered by a thick wool scarf. The barrel of his gun was pressed against your temple as the man’s knee pressed harshly down on your stomach, pinning you at his mercy. “Your men are dead, and now you’re about to fuckin’ join them. How stupid does one person have to be to try and pull off a stunt like that?” The man gruffly spoke, voice muffled through the thick wool disguising his features.

That voice. Could it be? No. You were just imagining things again.

“Go ahead and fucking shoot me then. Better you than the men back at my camp. They’ll do far worse than you can imagine.” You spat.

Joel grasped the back of your head, yanking you up as he kept the barrel of his gun steady against your trembling temple. “How many of ya are there? In your camp, how many? If you tell me where they are, I won’t kill you.” Joel Miller was always a man of his word.

“Twenty..or so. You’ll need more men.” You grinned your teeth together as he roughly yanked you up. Your face was also concealed with a thick scarf, but your eyes held a sense of familiarity that Joel hadn’t felt in years.

“Tommy! Round up what’s left of their horses, and we’ll take her back with us. She’s gonna tell us where the rest of her group is. Ain’t that right, darlin?’”

Tommy was weary of his brother's proposal but ultimately agreed. “Fine. We’ll put her in a cell and then interrogate her for information. Maria isn’t going to take lightly to this, just so you’re aware.” Tommy narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heel to return to his own horse.

“So, I’m becoming your prisoner? You gonna put me in handcuffs or something, sir?” You couldn’t help but take a tone with this man, despite a literal gun being pressed against your forehead.

He yanked you up to your feet in one swift movement. “You’re going to be my jailbird for as long as I fuckin’ see fit. You wanna live another day? Better get to talkin’, and cut that smartass attitude out. The hell is wrong with you?” Joel shoved you towards your horse with the barrel of his gun now shoved at your back. “Get on.” He demanded.

“You injured my horse.” You flatly stated as you grabbed ahold of the reins and hoisted yourself back into the saddle, and your scarf fell down just the slightest before you quickly scrambled to re-secure it.

“That’s what happens when you ambush heavily armed people, darlin.’ A grazed bullet to the flank ain’t gonna kill your horse. He’ll live.” Joel hoisted himself back up into his own saddle.

“It’s a she, and fuck you.”

“Well, my apologies to her.” Joel held the reins in one hand while the other was firmly wrapped around your bicep, just in case you were going to be stupid enough to try and escape.

You were in fact thrown into Jackson’s makeshift jail like a rag doll. Joel was anything but gentle as he shoved you inside the cell and slammed the door shut with a heavy clank and locked it. “You outta go and make yourself comfortable, cus’ you’re gonna be here awhile.” He pulled up a chair to sit right outside the metal bars. It scraped painfully along the flooring as he sat down.

You sat down in the chair across from him, peering through the metal bars with your arms crossed against your chest. “So, even if I tell you where the rest of my group resides, you aren’t going to let me go?”

Joel mirrored your actions by crossing his broad shoulders over his chest in an intimidating manner. “I never said anythin’ about lettin’ you go. All I said was that I wouldn’t kill ya if you told me where the rest of your group is.”

“Ohh. So you were dead serious on the whole prisoner thing? I thought you were bluffing.” You pressed the weight of your back against the metal chair. “Well, if we’re gonna be here awhile, mind telling me who you are?”

“Those details are not necessary. You ain’t got a reason to know who the hell I am. You’re gonna sit there, and you’re gonna talk and I let you live. You think you get to call the shots, sweetheart? You got another thing comin’ for ya.” Joel stated with a raised brow.

“Alright, how about we make a deal. You seem like a reasonable man. How about we both take these scarves off and reveal our identities, and then I’ll talk. Let’s make this entire transaction personable, it’ll make it way more fun for me to kill you if I see your face.” Your threat was casual, yet all the more serious.

“Kill me? How are you gonna do that? I got you trapped behind these bars and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.” He scoffed at your threat, brushing it off like water off a ducks back.

“I have my ways.” You stood up from the chair and sauntered over to the bars, grasping them between your hands with your cheek pressed against the cold metal. “C’mon. Tell me your name, and then I’ll tell you where my camp is. It’s a fair deal.”

Joel let out an annoyed huff. He was sick of your games already and he briefly wondered how someone as incessant as you, survived this long. “Joel. My name is Joel.”

Joel is a common name, right? There’s plenty of Joel’s. There’s no way in fucking hell that this man was your Joel Miller. Not a chance.

The air felt heavy as you stared at him through the bars. Your gaze was heavy on his covered face as if you were trying to see through the wool that covered it.

“The fuck are you starin’ at? Y’know what? Maybe I should just kill you after all. You ain’t gonna tell me what I want to know. You think that you’re gonna fuckin’ weasel your way out of this. Well, guess what? You ain’t.” He stood up from the chair in a fury as he strode to the bars and grasped your chin in one swift movement. You clawed at his hand, but it was too late. Your scarf fell from where it was secured on your face and he stumbled back as if he had seen a ghost, his own scarf falling as his body collapsed into the chair.

“YOU?!” He yelled incredulously as he stared at your recognizable face in disbelief. “YOU TRIED TO FUCKIN’ KILL ME!” He tossed his scarf to the ground as he pulled himself back up from the chair. “All these years, and this is how we meet again?!” His voice echoed off the concrete walls, booming painfully against your eardrums as you cowered from the sound.

“Had I known it was you—”

He didn’t even give you a chance to finish your sentence as his hands slammed down around the bars. His face was flushed red with anger, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Bull fucking shit! You tried to kill me, and my brother! You fuckin’ ambushed us!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU, JOEL! I SWEAR!” You tried to plead with him.

“You tried to kill me.” His voice fell flat as he stepped back from the metal bars with a heavy shake of his head. “You fuckin’ bitch.” He whispered under his breath as he strode out of the makeshift jail without looking back.

Three days passed since you had last seen Joel Miller. You were convinced that he, and the people of Jackson would let you rot in here without a care in the world. In your solitude, your mind drifted off to the QZ and your time spent with Joel. Oh, how everything had changed.

A metal tray skidded to your feet below the metal bars along with a mug of coffee. Joel had returned and was once again sitting in the old metal chair as you scarfed down the food he provided you like a ravaged animal.

“Your men are dead. Cordyceps got to them before we could.” He was resting his hands on his knees as he leaned over, observing you.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” You spoke between mouthfuls of stew, not even looking up at him.

“Tommy wants to kill you. His wife is pretty fuckin’ pissed that you and your group ambushed us. I’ve convinced him for the time being to spare your life. You’re welcome.”

“I agree that they should kill me. I’m a traitorous killer. If you let me out of this cell, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“You can quit that whole tough girl act ‘round me. I know exactly who, and what you are, and you darlin’ are not a killer.” Joel retorted with a sigh.

“Stop fucking acting like you know who I am, Joel. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me anymore. You don’t know the people I have killed since I left you. You don’t know what I’m capable of, so stop pretending that you do.” You snapped.

“Oh? I don’t? Just because you went off and joined a group of murderous raiders, doesn’t mean I don’t know you anymore. Are you forgettin’ that I used to be one of them?”

“What exactly are you trying to get out of this, Joel? Are you looking for closure? Are you looking for revenge? What the hell is it that you want?” You kicked the empty tray back under the prison bars.

“I want some fuckin’ answers. I want to know why you just up and left me like that. Do you know how long I spent lookin’ for you? I was forced to give up because a teenage girl, who I now view as my own kid, was thrown into my life, quite literally, and we went on this journey together. I stopped looking for you in mutilated bodies, but I never stopped thinking about you, and where you were.”

“I already told you why I needed to leave. I gave you those answers, and you wouldn’t agree with me. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever fucking had to do. I told you it was for our own good.”

His boots were heavy along the floor as he stopped in front of the bars, grasping them tightly between clutched fists. “No. I want a real fuckin’ answer. I deserve that at the very least.”

You were in front of him now, hands grasping the bars just below his own with your eyes boring into his. “I left because I had to. If I stayed any longer, I would have never been able to leave. We would have never worked out, Joel. It was going to come to an end whether we wanted it to or not.”

“You didn’t fuckin’ have to do anythin.’ I provided you anythin’ you fuckin’ wanted. Anythin’ you needed. I let you ruin me, and you just get up and leave? Fuck you. I didn’t ask to feel this way. I didn’t ask to care about you. It just fuckin’ happened. So how dare you say that you had to do anythin.’” His tone dropped an octave as his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“What the fuck else do you want me to say, Joel? Do you want me to say that I hated you? That I never cared about you either? Do you want me to lie to your fucking face and tell you that you never fucking meant anything to me? Is that what you fucking want?!” You responded exasperatedly with your lips nearly touching his between the gaps in the bars. “I’ll lie to you if it means that you’ll finally let me go.”

“I loved you.” He whispered with a clenching heart. “I loved you, and would have done anythin’ to keep you. I’d lasso you the fuckin’ moon if it made you happy.” He confessed.

Your heart fell heavy between strained strings as your palms grew clammy. “No. Take it back. Don’t you dare fucking throw that word around with me, Joel Miller. You’re fucking lying.”

“Am I? Am I fucking lyin’ when I tell you that I searched every goddamn crevice in the QZ looking for you? Am I lyin’ when I tell you that I tore up your fuckin’ apartment to try and find any sign or clue as to where I could find you? Am I lyin’ when I spent sleepless nights cryin’ in my own filth because it felt like a piece of me was ripped away? Just like the way my fuckin’ daughter was ripped from me? I love you, you stupid, stupid girl.”

Suddenly, you were kissing. Magnets drawn together by an impossible force that not even prison bars could keep you apart. He grasped your face delicately between his hands as you kissed one another with desperation, as if you’d slip between one another’s hands like sand on a beach. He detached his lips from yours, a string of spit keeping you connected for a mere moment as he quickly unlocked the cell door with the key in his pocket. You were on each other in an instant, slamming his back into the door before kissing him fervently once more. Joel Miller should have never trusted a jailbird such as you. You felt the coolness of the key in your grasp, having him distracted at your mercy. You shoved him away, slipping through the door and slammed it shut before locking it. He barely had a chance to register that you were no longer in his proximity.

He shook the bars wildly, yelling fiercely as you slipped from his grasp once more. “DON’T LEAVE ME! DON’T LEAVE ME! I LOVE YOU, PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T GO! I LOVE YOU!” He slammed his fists into the bars over and over again, till his knuckles were raw and bleeding, and his throat ran dry.

Tagging people I think will enjoy! @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @darkroastjoel @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42

Part Two

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pandoraslxna · 7 months

Text

Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 4

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 6.2k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, Miles pov, conflicted emotions, dirty talk, praise & degradation, rough oral (m receiving), thigh fucking, begging, virgin reader, obsession, authority kink, power play, corruption kink, brief mentions of blood from biting, (angst?)

Notes: this took me forever and idek if I like it or not🧍🏻‍♀️

Good has always pined for evil.

Ironic, because Quaritch knows what being good meant. Or, what being a good soldier meant. He couldn't tell when exactly this happened, but the knowledge came and stayed. He killed people. Of course, when there's an attack you fight back. He killed people on command, too. Sure, there are superiors who sit higher and see farther and they get the whole picture, so no command is mindless or unjustified.

Being a good soldier meant turning your common sense the fuck off, and following commands not doubting it for a second. Not thinking about why you attack instead of fighting back, or what is the reasoning behind missions involving sudden and bloody invasions. At one point, he also became said superior himself. Gave the commands to kill. Had blood on his hands without staining them, because those weren’t actually his hands that did it.

A good soldier is a thoughtless machine, and there is some fucked up irony in not using actual machines instead of human sources in military, he thinks. They want you to be a robot, but they need you to be a human. Or whatever is close to a human. Funny, now that he thinks about it.

He didn't think that working for Ardmore was much better or more sensible than being in the U.S. Army, or even working for Parker. The only difference was wielding more information. Not that he was sure that she shared everything she knew.

So in the end, he’s a good soldier, but that ultimately makes him a bad person. Not if you would ask him, no, there’s not even a spark of regret inside him. But to people like you, to you he must’ve been the devil himself.

And you know how that saying goes? Opposite attracts. And now Quaritch wonders, what does that make you? His antithesis in every way? Yes and no.

Because, turns out, sweet Cherry is everything Miles parents had tried to condition him to want in a person when he was young. A good person.

You’re driven to succeed, he thinks, every time he so coincidentally walks past the labs and you’re there, always working, day and night it seems, not so different from himself. You’re clean, he muses whenever he sees you in ironed clothes, seams sharp and not a hair out of place. You’re polite, he's reminded every time you drop "sir" and "ma'am" like it's second nature to you. You’re overly respectful, he realizes, always watching the way your spine straightens and gaze drops to your shoes whenever a person of authority steps into your space. And you’re pure, he knows it, innocent enough that his strictly christian mother would’ve approved of you, and yet, behind that façade, you’re not so innocent as it seems. So much so, that his father would’ve given him a proud clasp on the shoulder, murmuring something inappropriate while handing him a beer that would remind him why he’s never bought any women home to meet his parents. You care for others, for your environment. You’re empathic. And you’re good, in any way that matters.

And he hates it.

He hates the fact you’re everything he wants in a person, when he really shouldn’t. Because Miles fucking Quaritch, fifthy years of age, should not fool around with such a young little thing in her twenties, fragile like porcelain and pure like a flower that grew under a glass dome. Too naïve to even realize what you’re getting yourself into. It’s not like Miles has ever cared about the wrongs and rights in life, let alone what’s morally correct. But there’s something about you that makes him… hesitate.

In the grand scale of how much things in his life had changed recently, the Polaroids were just a detail. But he found himself attached to them like he’s never been attached to anything. Found himself holding the comically small photos in his big, blue hands every night like they’re a treasure.

It still shocks him to think that this is the same woman that he had met around a month ago. Pure little cherry. He scoffs because the thought of your shaking frame, big innocent eyes not able to meet his gaze, while nervously fiddling with your lab coat, is the same one he’s looking at right now on said Polaroids. It’s ridiculous.

Shocks him more that he likes this version of you way more than he would ever openly admit. That he wishes you would’ve captured your rosy cheeks on those photos, the way you blush and tremble and shy away. How you stutter when he makes you nervous. How your breath hitches. Wishes you would include videos next time, of you begging, calling him sir, saying please, please, please may I come? So sweet, it makes his teeth rot.

He wants to watch these soft lips moving as they say all those filthy words, with that tone in your voice like it’s the first time you’ve ever said them out loud.

Staring at those plush thighs as their spread wide open on your bed, Miles realizes he never wanted to dig his teeth into something more. There’s this desire to bite you, to mark you. Somewhere, it didn’t matter, just as long as he could see it. He wants to nip at your inner thigh, or maybe your bottom lip, your throat, your cute little ass. Wants to bite and suck and kiss until it bleeds and then gently, lovingly lick away the blood, simply because he knows you would allow him to do this. Because he likes the taste of you. Because he knows it would undoubtedly make you more wet. Because it would cause your snug little pussy to hug him even tighter.

Lately, these thoughts have become a vicious circle he can’t seem to break out of. Because no matter the scenario that plays in his head, all his thoughts ultimately lead to the image of him sinking his cock into your tight little hole. Something he doubts is even physically possible, starting from the difference in size between you and him. And there’s also this tiny issue, the fact that you’ve never actually done it before. That no one has ever popped your little cherry.

But it’s an ache he has, to pin you down and make you scream his name from the top of your lungs, let all of bridgehead hear who’s pounding your cute human pussy.

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? You’re a human. Small, tiny, fragile human. And he’s not– not anymore. What a fucked up joke from the universe, huh? Not the price he expected to pay when he signed up for the phoenix program, when he decided to direct his whole life to becoming a damn good soldier.

But there were things that did help to numb that ache, besides staring at your Polaroids, receiving new ones every couple of days to which he jerked off until his cock felt raw and hypersensitive.

Quaritch was working: doing his job, going on missions, working overtime, crawling into Ardmores ass to exchange informations, forcing his mind to block out every other thought, occupy it with what others would describe as an obsession with finding Sully. But also going to the gym and exercising with the Squad until black spots blocked his view.

Though no matter how hard he tried, that ache never really disappeared. So he decided that it was time to finally do something about this, even if it was just a temporary relief that didn’t include his own hands. Not when yours could work perfectly fine, too.

It’s been a while since he had last seen you, Quaritch realizes as he walks past the labs to find them empty.

Considering the time, it’s not unusual to find them empty, so he goes straight to your room. He doesn’t even know why, doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you’re not opening the door, that he can’t find you in the cafeteria either, why he doesn’t just take a cold shower and go to bed, why he couldn’t sleep even if he tried. Miles doesn’t know why. It’s not like he can just bend you over and truly ruin you, stain your purity forever once he’s found you. Fuck you long and hard and good and let that fire inside him cool off for a good while.

He wants to, yeah sure, but he can’t. And he doesn’t know why it drives him so insane.

Apart from the whole logistics of being almost three times the size of you, Miles has never been one to fuck around with women like you. Women, that don’t know what they’re doing. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel the way it does when you act all shy, trembling limbs and teary eyes when he touches you, greedily asking for more because it feels new and good so you just can’t help but beg for it– for him.

He’s not a teacher for fucks sake, he just wants to fuck. Release some stress. He wants to feel good, get a pretty girl on her knees after a long day at work and then make her ride him like she’s good for nothing else. Miles doesn’t want to show you how it’s done, to waste his time teaching you what most freshly eighteen year olds already know. Not his fault you’re such a social butterfly, sticking your nose into books and studying weird plants and what not, rather than to go out, get drunk and get laid. Fucking hell, who even are you to put such a pressure on him?

But god damn, don’t you look like a tasty little treat, running on that treadmill, with that absolute peach of an ass stuffed into a pair of sport tights that hug your curves just right.

Quaritch can’t help but watch once he’s finally found you. And he has a phenomenal view, leaning against the door frame of the common gym, arms crossed over his chest while his eyes scan you up and down.

Instead of cursing you for not spreading your legs for any other guy to spare him of the misery he was now trapped in, he dedicated his mindspace to mapping out all of the dips and curves of your body. The way your breasts bounced with every step, chest heaving, the flex of your thighs and the sweat beading at your temples.

The distant sound of music reached his ear, as he stood there in the doorway. Your headphones ensuring that no thoughts had any chance to form in your head, drowning out the silence of the gym at night.

With a scoff, Quaritch then finally decides to walk over to you. There’s a prickling feeling under his skin as he approaches you, still oblivious that you weren’t alone anymore, up until to the point where he pulls on the cords of your headphones and the music suddenly stops.

"Didn’t count you as a little gym bunny", he says, grinning. His fangs poke out from under his lip as he watches your eyes widen, immediately hitting the stop button to make the treadmill come to an halt.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me", you pant, clutching your chest. A little overdramatic, he thinks, raising one of his brows at the curse words falling so easily from your lips. He tilts his head slightly, looking directly at you, and you don’t even bother trying not to squirm under his gaze.

"Sorry, sir", you mumble and Quaritch doesn’t know if his eyes were just playing tricks on him, but it almost looked like you were rolling your eyes at him.

"You shouldn’t work out with your music on full blast when you’re all alone", he tells you, his eyes boring into yours like he had any right to tell you what to do. At least it felt like he did. "If I were less than a man, I could’ve taken advantage of that."

His grin widens for a brief second, but then you exhale a dry laugh, and now he’s almost certain you just rolled your eyes at him.

"Sure, I’ll keep that in mind for next time."

Feisty, he remarks, licking his lips. There’s something up with you, you’ve made that much clear. And maybe you’re not so much different from him than he originally thought. You and him, you might as well just be two sides of the same coin.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, kid?", Quaritch asks. If you want to act like one, might as well treat you like one. He straightens up, towering over you with his arms crossing over his chest like you owe him an explanation.

"Oh, I usually don’t work out, not like, like you guys. You look like you live here." You cross and uncross your own arms, failing to mimic his confidence stance, instead tugging at the hem of your shirt. "I couldn’t sleep, so i thought i could somehow tire me out." You shrug.

"Tire yourself out, huh?" Now that piques his interest, a half smirk tugging on his lips. "You know, I came here looking for you for the exact same reason."

The way you bite your lip and advert your gaze tells him more than words ever could. His tail sways in anticipation, feeling like a cat that just trapped a helpless little mouse. Miles leans forward slightly, lips close to your ear now before he whispers lowly, "You look pretty fucking good in these gym thighs, cherry."

Quaritch has definitely been fucked with to some degree, but your response freaks him out more than straight-up mockery would, somehow.

"Aha." Oh?

His brows rise. It’s not even a response, it’s just a noise you make. But that little noise holds so much attitude, so many emotions. Quaritch can’t help but scoff. He had to give you that, you really had some nerves for someone who normally couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out when he’s around. And that newly found boldness makes him want to dig his fingers into your hips, make your little cherry tattoo turn into a bruised plump, spin you around and bend you over his knee just how you deserve for that.

"Alright", he exhales, trying to calm his nerves, "you got a lot of pent up frustration for such a little thing, so what’s with that attitude today, huh?"

You look at him like a lost puppy and now he’s the one who wants to roll his eyes, wondering why he even keeps up with this childish bullshit. If you were any other person, Quaritch would’ve loved to show you just how far that disrespectful tone gets you with him. But you’re not just any other person.

"You didn’t…" The words hadn’t even fully left you, and your eyes were already adverting to your shoes and your lips pursed into a thin line. Before you could finish however, Quaritch lets out a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, already knowing what’s about to come. "Listen, kid", he starts and if you were any close to Na‘vi, avatar, recom or whatever, your ears would’ve pinned back against your head. Instead, your shoulders slump, your whole body language suggesting that you were mentally preparing yourself to get lectured, because you knew the answer to this already.

"I don’t know what you were hoping you would get out of this, but if you’re looking for someone to be your first, that ain’t gon' be me."

His voice had grown a tad louder, accent heavier, and he halfway expected you to flinch or even tear up. Instead, you straighten up. Your hands may be trembling, but you hide it by balling your fists. Pushing out your chest, you gather all confidence that was left in you to snap back, "Why not?"

"Why not?", Quaritch laughs. He laughs because it’s funny, really. Because he can’t believe it, can’t help but wonder where all that is suddenly coming from. He laughs because if he wouldn’t, he would make you regret this. "I already told you. It’s not going to fit."

"What if I—"

"Cherry." It comes out as a warning. Your stance falters for a second, those big, puppy eyes returning to your face where just seconds before was such a fierce expression that it undoubtedly made him want to push you further, see how feisty you could actually get. But at the same time, Miles had just discovered just how easily you could get on his last nerves like this.

"I‘ll prove it. I can take it, just let me—"

A hand grabs at your lower face, thumb pressing into your cheek and four fingers digging into the other side, with his palm closing tight over your mouth and nose, keeping it shut. Quaritch yanks you forward, forces you on your very tiptoes to get your full attention.

"Will you stop acting like a desperate little brat, jesus christ." They were harsh, bitter words, drenched with equal parts lust and anger. They were meant to scare you off, yet you looked anything but scared. You looked aroused. Tempted.

To his surprise, words were muffled against his palm, refusing to keep quiet even with a big, blue hand halfway covering your face.

Rolling his eyes, he allows you to swat his hand away.

"You… You said you also came here to tire yourself out", you say, panting slightly once you’re able to speak and breathe freely. "I‘ll help you."

There it is. That side of you that’s so hidden from the rest of the world, it’s hard to believe it’s coming from the same person.

You see, Miles figured he loves the feeling of two opposites coming together. It causes friction.

His kiss is ravenous, the force of it tilting your body to bend backwards once he had dragged you into the communal showers at the gym. He feels your legs go weak, so his arm around your middle flexes, effectively supporting your weight as he pushes you against the tiled wall. His lips coax yours open with little effort as you're hardly putting up any resistance. The flavor of whatever gum you must’ve chewed a while ago is still rich on your tongue, sweet as ever and he groans into the kiss.

Quaritch explores your mouth determinedly, taking what he believes to be his, and he doesn’t even realize that this is the first time he had put his lips against yours. Long strokes of his tongue against yours, teeth catching your lips in bites, groans and moans caught in one another's mouth and swallowed up. His thumb runs up and down your jaw, occasionally applying pressure to adjust the tilt of your head as he changes the angle of the kiss, feels your hair tickle his forehead. Noses bump and brush, he inhales your scent, groans when it’s just as sweet as you taste.

His kiss is powerful. It commands. Look at me. Touch me. Feel me. Only me. It leads you, your movements, the pace. But yours is soft, pleading and submissive. Obedient.

It drives him to near madness, teetering him on the brink of sanity.

He presses himself harder against you, towers over you like a mountain. Your hands are small, and they claw at his arms, his biceps, his neck. They pull and pull, yet he doesn’t budge, doesn’t move unless he wants to. You make a whiny sort of noise in protest and he grins. His forearm rests against the wall, tiles cool against his burning skin as he watches you with half lidded eyes.

The same red that paints his new favorite fruit taints your cheeks crimson, as you hesitantly lower yourself to your knees.

A pleased rumble left him, and his smirk curled further, hints of too-sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips, "You did that before?" He wonders out loud. There’s a suffocating tightness underneath his briefs that only gets worse once you answer him with a quick shake of your head. No, of course not. He scoffs, equally amused as he is excited.

With trembling fingers and unsteady breath, you move your hands around to unbuckle his belt. Letting it hang open, you move to the button and zipper on the fatigues, a little clumsy as you tried once, twice, three times to get the damned thing open. Miles couldn’t help but chuckle.

You looked even smaller on your knees in front of him, pulling on the waistband of his pants to get his cock out. He could just stand there and watch, torture the little thing by letting her struggle, but his impatience has grown rapidly in those past few minutes so he swats your hands away and pulls his pants down just enough.

You hold your breath, waiting. Watching. The nervous tension makes a shudder run up your spine and he smirks, once you finally catch sight of his cock.

The way your eyes widen makes him remember the first time he had stared at himself in the mirror. The first time he was alone with this new body of his, the mirrored image of what he despised most. Alien, that’s what he looked like. What he must’ve looked like to you. Blue skin and faint purple tip, small bumps and ridges around the crown, littered in those glowing freckles that made him look like a damn toy, was what he had first thought when he saw himself. And there was also his size. The root of this whole situation, the reason neither of you could get what you so desperately wanted.

It’s a lot to take in, literally, and he enjoys the fact that not even a polite woman like you could stop herself from staring at him.

A shaky exhale of air then brushes over his tip, your throat bobbing as you swallow thickly and Quaritch tilts his head and chuckles. "What’s wrong? Where did all that attitude go, hm? I thought you wanted to help me out."

Your hands are still firmly planted on your own thighs, but he sees the subconscious little twitch of your fingertips. They want to move, but you don’t dare just yet.

"It’s- no it’s just, I’m, I—"

"You didn’t thought I was lyin‘, did you? I told you it’s—"

"I know", you cut him off, your cheeks blushing, "I- I know. And I still want to…"

The grin that tugs on his lips his dangerous and his tongue darts out to lick over his pointy canine, while he gives himself a slow tug. A small drop of clear, sticky pre-cum beads at his tip.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go on", he purrs lowly, "Touch me."

You’re hesitant at first, taking his length into your delicate hands. They’re warm and soft and he hums at the touch. You can’t even close your fingers entirely around his girth, but you try your best to give him an experimental stroke, feeling his weight and the texture of his skin.

"C‘mon, Cherry", he tells you, his hand brushing through your hair at the back of your head, before giving you a guiding little push. "Use your mouth. Get it wet for me."

Not so bold now, he thinks to himself as he watches you lick your lips and shuffle a little closer on your knees. Like this, it almost looks like you’re worshiping him. It gets him even harder than he already was before, makes his cock throb, feeds his god complex in just the right way. But then you place your lips against the mushroom-like head of his cock, plants a kiss right there on its slit almost tenderly, and Miles can’t stop the groan from escaping him.

Your big doe eyes are staring up at him, piercing right through his soul, before you give a little kitten lick to his length.

"I said use your mouth, not just your tongue", he says, albeit a little breathlessly. He ain’t got time for any of this practice shit today. You offered to suck his cock, might as well do it right then.

His hips buck forward, the head of his cock nudging against your kiss swollen lips and you part them dutifully. The tip is an easy fit, tight but manageable.

You’re timid at first, barely moving further down, but your tongue is practically dancing against him, so it's not all that bad. "There you go", Quaritch groans, the hand on the back of your head holding you still, makes you take him a little deeper. A little more. Your nostrils flare wide as you struggle to breathe and you close your eyes for a brief moment. Your cheeks hollow inward as you suck him. Just a few inches, and he can already feel some resistance on the back of your throat. It’s tight and you tear up, instinctively pulling away.

He clicks his tongue, but you’re quick to put him back into your mouth, warm wetness enveloping not even half of his throbbing cock once again.

Miles fingers have formed into claws, digging them into his own palm as one arm rests against the wall, the other fisted into your hair. It takes every fiber of will within him not to grab you and just force you down onto his cock, to make you choke on it while he thrusts deep into your throat. He’s filled with the sudden, perverse desire to break you, to stain you, make you as filthy as himself. It’s only fortunate that you can’t see the way his features have twisted through the tears in your eyes, from lazy pleasure into something animalistic.

Your mouth moves slowly over his cock, sloppy and uncoordinated. Barely enough of him fits inside your mouth to bring him pleasure, more than just a teasing swirl of your tongue. There’s drool running down your chin, your jaw opened as wide as possible as you sucked and slurped on his length. But he needed more if you planned to get him off properly, needed you to take him deeper.

The hand that had been brushing through your hair grips tighter, and then he slowly moves your head up and down on his cock, using your throat like you’re his personal little fleshlight. Just a couple of thrusts, merely a few inches more, already have him in the back of your throat, and he feels your muscles constrict around him. Helpless little gags fill his ears, followed by tears running down your cheeks.

The hands that had been clawing at his thighs like he was your lifeline had began to tug on his pants, while you whimpered and whined around his length, signaling him that you needed to come up for air.

"C‘mon Cherry, how are you supposed to take all of me when you can’t even suck me off properly?" His voice is taunting, a low growl as he pulls you off of him with a wet pop. You gasp for air, panting, chest heaving and he allows you a moment to catch your breath, before he pushes you back down. He’s careful not to actually hurt you in the process, but he’s also determined to get more of him inside your mouth.  Either you didn’t hear him, or your were pointedly ignoring him. Regardless, the result is the same. You’re struggling, gagging and whining and he knows you’re trying, but it’s been fifteen minutes and you’re not making any process.

Quaritch tsks, "Yeah, no, that’s not going to work. Get up here."

You make a small sound of protest when he pulls you off of him again, and then yelp in surprise when he grabs your arm and yanks you up to your feet. Miles stares at you for a moment, breathing heavily. Takes notice of your lips, swollen, gleaming with saliva and pre-cum. You look so utterly vulnerable. And that's exactly how he wants you.

His hand still holds your upper arm firmly, and he spins you around so sudden that you had to brace yourself against the wall in order not to fall. There’s a split second in which he ponders if ripping your leggings would be a good idea, considering that he didn’t know if you had any spare clothes with you in the gym. He decides against it, barely able to think logically with all the blood rushing from his head to his cock.

Hooking his thumbs underneath the tight waistband, he drags your pants down quickly, and your underwear with them. A pleasant hum leaves his lips when he finds you soaking wet, tiny hole clenching around nothing, all too eager to be filled. Miles gives a firm slap to your ass that makes you try and fail to stifle a gasp.

"P-Please", you mutter quietly, arching your back some more.

"Don’t get too excited", he leans in to whisper against the shell of your ear, chuckling. "Close your legs." Glancing at him from over your shoulder, there’s a look of utter confusion, mixed with disappointment on your face, yet you comply to his orders without a complain. And the feeling of knowing you would do anything he says, follow every one of his orders despite what you wanted, is simply indescribable to him.

Quaritch doesn’t take it slow now that he has you like this. His cock is still lubed with spit so it’s an easy glide as he positions himself behind you and pushes forward between the soft flesh of your thighs. You gasp, feeling the smooth length of his cock drag against your sensitive folds.

"That’s much better", Miles groans lowly into your ear as he begins to thrust back and forth.

It felt heavenly— the warmth of your skin enveloping his length in the same way a tight pussy would. He could feel your slick covered lips pressed against him, your arousal smearing between your thighs and his cock adding further to the impression of being inside you.

With an increasing pace, he begins to actually fuck the space between your legs. His cock bumps against your clit over and over again, which causes you to moan along to the filthy sound of flesh against flesh.

"Fuuckin‘ hell, that’s it." His hands on your hips had began to pull you back against his thrusts, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, as he used your body for his own pleasure. More arousal oozes out of you and both of you make a pleasant sound of acknowledgment at that. "Hmm, can feel you dripping all over my cock, cherry. You like it that much when I fuck your thighs, huh?"

"Y-Yes, f-fuck, yes!" His ears perked at the sweet little whine that trickled out of you when he snapped against the back of your thighs just a little harder. There grows a force behind his thrusts, one that makes it hard for you to stay still and let him use you, he can tell. Your legs are trembling, wanton little pleas falling from your parted lips. "Please, I- I need more! Miles, c‘mon…" You push back against, rising to your tip toes in an attempt to catch his tip against your entrance. "Please!"

He could come so easily like that, rocking back and forth, his cock trapped between the plush of your soft thighs, your slickness lubing his length enough to make his movements more fluid. Yet you were nowhere near close to your own release. His touch was just barely enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to get you anywhere. Poor little thing, Miles thinks to himself with a grin he doesn’t even bother to hide.

The sound of his cock sliding between your wet thighs was downright obscene and he could practically feel your neglected clit aching for attention, warmth slowly pooling into the pit of his stomach. And with that, he angles his hips to put more force behind his trusts, his length gliding through your folds, the tip of it pressed snugly against your clit, bumping against the little nub with every stroke.

Pleading mewls soon turn into desperate moans the harder he fucks your thighs. "Mmnh– need you, need you in- inside", you begin to brabble, staring up at him from over your shoulder. "Please, Mil– sir!"

"Christ, cherry", he curses against your neck, letting the heady vibrations of his rumbling growl pierce through your neck, letting you feel his words in the most primal way. Your thighs press together. "Do you ever shut up?"

Miles feels you press back against him weakly, nowhere near strong enough to get him anywhere. "I– I can do it, just let me…"

His annoyed groan is quick to cut you off. Whatever complain bubbled up your throat was shushes with a hand clasped over your mouth before it could even come past your lips. You make a muffled sound against his palm, your eyes continue to plead for him, but he’s determined to keep you just like this.

"Don’t be so goddamn stubborn", he grits out, teeth grazing the lobe of your ear and he feels the way your whole body tense as he bites down on it. "You got a lot of learning to do if you want to be good for your Colonel."

The smack of his hips against your backside makes punched out little huffs of air escape through your nose, and it’s almost adorable.

Meanwhile you could barely form a thought over the constant throbbing between your thighs, the slaps of skin hitting skin, the whining of your body being squeezed under an intense force and hands gripping your hips and keeping your mouth shut. You couldn’t even hear the heavy grunts of the gruff man behind you as he bit the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings of how good you felt around him.

Fingers dug deeper into your cheeks and hips, his cock almost rubbing you raw with how fast he fucked your thighs. The cock that still rutted between your silky legs was drenched in slick and Miles felt the way you tried to angle your hips and squeezed your legs to put more pressure on your clit.

Fuck, he was so close he could hardly hold himself back.

"You want to come?", he whispers into your ear. A pleasant shiver runs up your spine that even he could feel. Your response comes as nothing more than a muffled "Mhm! Mhm!" against his palm.

"Will you be a good girl for me now? Stop with all that whining bullshit and be a little grateful for what I do to you?"

"Mhm, mhm!" Your frantic nodding makes him thrust against you harder, and he relishes in the needy sounds you make.

"There you go, sweetheart", he chuckles, "That wasn’t so hard now, was it?"

The heat from his chest begins to pool in the pit of his stomach, coiling together in a painful knot that could only mean one thing. Miles groans against your shoulder, biting particularly hard as his hips start to stutter, the grip on your waist tightening once more, leaving definite blue bruises that wouldn’t leave any time soon.

He then shoves his fingers between your thighs, tips pushing and rubbing against the twitching little nub between your folds so hard it felt like he shifted it from its original position. You wailed against his palm like a banshee as you finally came, the sudden spark of pleasure aimed just at the right place sending you over the edge as tears spilt down your cheeks, rolling over the hand that’s still pressed against your mouth.

Your legs clamped shut tighter than before, squeezing his cock that was still thrusting in and out between your soft, wet flesh.

"Jesus, fuck", he grunts, breathing heavily, "good girl, good fuckin‘ girl."

Quaritch soon comes after you, biting again, until he left a giant bruise on your shoulder. He was drinking up every sweet little moan and gasp he elicited out of you like this, groaning and lapping his tongue against your skin while he pumped his seed through the space of your legs as it spurted from his throbbing cock.

Your eyes were still heavy with tears as you blinked to clear your vision, the bruising grip he had on your hips slowly loosening as he comes down from the high of his orgasm, but then tightening again, for just a split second that makes you tense up and flinch.

Miles is almost certain that that piercing pain he suddenly felt in his chest was some sort of cramp, some fucked up symptom of ptsd or his psyche struggling to adjust to this body that still wasn’t entirely his. But then that picture perfect doll face glances up at him from over your shoulder. Your eyebrows are pinched together, hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks flushed red and glistening in a thin layer of sweat, lips all swollen red and bitten raw.

And now he’s not so sure anymore where that piercing pain in his chest really comes from…

#miles quaritch #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles smut #avatar miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #atwow quaritch #avatar quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #quaritch smut #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #Avatar #atwow #avatar the way of water

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crownmemes · 1 month

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Spy Sentences, Vol. 15

(Sentences from various sources for spies and/or secretive muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Your reputation is warranted. You're beautiful at what you do."

"I was waiting for you in that alley. Watching you watching me."

"I came here to put a bullet in you."

"You've stepped into a world of lies. Nothing anyone says is true."

"Hacking's not really my area of expertise."

"Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what's right."

"Difficult stain to get out, blood."

"We're all human. We all make mistakes. It's just that, in this line of work, the consequences of those mistakes are simply more consequential."

"I don't have to tell you what a comfort anonymity can be in my profession."

"You sent me to die. That's kind of a deal breaker for me."

"Why don't we just kill him?"

"You and I know about this. That's where it stops, you understand? It never happened."

"Are you going to report me?"

"You act like you don't care about anyone, but here you are saving lives."

"Your lack of understanding does not obligate me to explain."

"Sometimes, a little death is necessary."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

"We need people like you, who care about the one life as much as they care about the millions. That way, I never have to."

"Bravery's good news. It's got to be maximised."

"Are you really going to pull that trigger?"

"How many languages do you speak?"

"There are things happening here that you don't understand, and right now, you just need to accept that."

"You have something I want. Right now, that makes me the only person you can trust to get you out of here alive."

"When a man shakes my hand and says he's going to do something, I expect him to follow through."

"When things go wrong, I like to be ready."

"So many people think that when you're exposed to death and suffering every day, you become immune. It's quite the opposite."

"I've got no fight with you."

"No offence, I just don't think it's a great idea you going on a solo mission to save the world."

"You knew that I saw something, so you figured there must be something there and took a guess. Clever, but also pathetic."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#spy;

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pedroscurls · 9 months

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Always Here For You

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales and Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: Frankie comforts you as you cope with your grief. Word Count: 1,193 Author's Note: This is part of @pedrostories 1k celebration. Prompt quote is: “Alright baby, alright baby. Come on now.” and fanfic trope is Hurt/Comfort. I also just want to express my gratitude for allowing me to submit this even past the deadline. This was very cathartic and very close to home (with the recent loss I've experienced). I know I said I was taking a writing hiatus, but this was something that had been in the back of my mind for a little over a week now... Warning: mentions of grief

Frankie knew that you were struggling with the recent loss of a loved one. The news came suddenly; you had gotten a call at four in the morning and when he heard the tone of your voice shift, he knew that something was wrong. He didn’t know how to comfort you, how to tell you that eventually, things will get better, because he didn’t know for sure. He had been more acquainted with loss and grief more than any person, but seeing you in this much pain… Frankie felt helpless.

You barely ate.

You barely slept.

Every night, you cried into his arms.

And every night, Frankie didn’t know what to do. He tried to make you smile, make you laugh, but nothing he did worked. He hated seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it.

Grief was crippling, Frankie knew that. The fact that someone could be gone in a second and the world would continue on like nothing happened, it was frustrating.

And you had always been so positive, always looking at the brighter side of things, even when it didn’t go your way. You were always a bright light in Frankie’s life, but the news of your loved one’s passing had dimmed that light.

And tonight was no different. You were sitting on the couch in sweats and one of his hoodies that were obviously too big on you. The hood was over your head and you were mindlessly watching whatever was on the television. You hadn’t even turned your head to look in the direction of the front door opening.

“Baby?” Frankie called out, removing his boots and his hat to set on the coffee table.

You looked up at him and Frankie felt his heart break. Your eyes were red, puffy, and you were quietly sniffling.

“Hey,” you whispered, stretching your arms out for him. Frankie bit the inside of his cheek before he sat next to you instead, pulling you onto his lap. His arms snaked around your waist as your arms moved to wrap around his shoulders. You buried your face against the side of his neck and felt tears building in your eyes once Frankie’s hand rubbed your back.

“How was your day today, hermosa?”

“Rough,” you whispered shakily. “I’m glad you’re home though.”

Frankie nodded and pressed a kiss to your temple. He continued to run his hand along your back in a comforting manner, which he found you leaning further into him. He could hear your quiet sniffling and could feel the tears begin to stain his shirt.

“Did you eat today?”

You just shook your head.

“Baby,” Frankie said quietly. “How about I order us some pizza? We can have a movie night, eat some food, cuddle…”

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, but your stomach said otherwise. Both you and Frankie heard your stomach rumbling and you pulled back enough to look up at him with soft eyes, biting your lower lip. “Don’t listen to that.”

“Sounds like you are, hermosa,” he said with a smile, gently poking your abdomen. “What about breadsticks?”

You shook your head.

“French fries?”

You didn’t respond, but instead just kept your eyes locked on his.

“Oh, so French Fries might be something we can work with.”

“And chicken nuggets?” you said with a hopeful tone.

Frankie smiled, gently leaning in to peck your lips. “I’ll get you anything you want as long as you eat something, hermosa.”

“Can I come with you?” you asked, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Frankie’s eyes lit up. It had been a little over two weeks since you found out the news and since finding out, you didn’t want to leave the house, which Frankie understood. “You sure?”

“As long as I’m with you, I’ll be okay.”

Frankie smiled and moved a hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the fallen tears. He stared deeply into your eyes and leaned in to press a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“You know I’m here for you, okay?”

“I know,” you whispered shakily. “I know.”

“And no matter what, you don’t have to go through this alone, hermosa.” His thumb caressed your cheek and his eyes bore into your own. It was overwhelming, the amount of safety you felt just being in Frankie’s presence.

“It’s just–” you whispered, tears beginning to pool around your eyes again. “I don’t know how to cope with this, or move on from this and I just–”

“The pain may never go away,” he said honestly. “And there’s no timeline for these things, so if you want to cry, you want to scream, you want to just let out your emotions, then do it, hermosa. I’m here”

“But it just hurts so much and–” A breath caught in your throat and you brought a hand to wipe at your eyes, but Frankie moved both hands to cup your cheeks, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay, hermosa.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for comfort in the depths of his brown orbs and immediately felt yourself breaking down all over again. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly, burying your face against his neck as you let out a quiet sob.

“Alright baby, alright baby,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him as well. “Come on now,” Frankie said.

Frankie could feel your body trembling against his own, his shirt beginning to get wet with the stain of your tears. Your sobs filtered the living room and Frankie shut his own eyes, hoping and wishing the pain away.

“I’m here, baby,” he said quietly. “I’m here.”

You continued to cry against him, taking comfort in his strong arms wrapped around you. The pain of losing a loved one was nothing like you ever experienced before; it was debilitating, crippling, and every time you thought about what happened, your heart just broke all over again.

But Frankie was always there to pick up the pieces.

To hold you.

To whisper sweet reassurances in your ear.

Frankie was your home, your safe place, and you didn’t realize how badly you needed that right now.

When you felt yourself slowly begin to calm down, you pulled away to bring the sleeves of the hoodie to wipe away at your eyes. You looked over at Frankie and noticed him staring right back at you with soft eyes.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Frankie let a small smile line his lips. He leaned in and pecked your lips, pulling back enough to rest his forehead against yours. “And I love you, hermosa.”

Just as Frankie was going to say something, your stomach growled once more. Louder than earlier and he saw a small smile line your lips. He felt his heart soar at the sight and when he heard you let out a quiet giggle, Frankie finally felt like things were going in the right direction.

“So, fries and nuggets?” he teased.

“And a milkshake?” you asked.

Frankie smiled. “Anything you want, baby. Let’s go.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco catfish morales fanfic #francisco morales fanfic #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories1k

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

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so idk how mha is gonna end but obviously the moral of the story we’re going for here is that everyone deserves to be saved and heroism is about saving people no matter what. that’s great! i’m guessing some or all of the league is going to survive and be put into some kind of rehabilitation center (toga and spinner seem the most likely to me for now but who knows). and i’m fine with that i like the overall message of it.

but how are they going to deal with the fallout from the league’s victims? i get the feeling that they’re not, or it’ll be a one-off like “some ppl were upset we didn’t jail or kill the villains but the heroes calmed them down” or something like that. i mean. whoever in the LOV it is would have to show remorse eventually, for one thing, for them to be any different than the corrupt hero system. but even then, all the families of whoever machia trampled on during the war arc, are they just gonna be cool with this? mind you I don’t think that anyone in the LOV should be killed or jailed rather than rehabilitated, but i wonder if the show is going to bring up that anyone who dabi or toga killed won’t get a second chance. they won’t get rehabilitated, they’re just gone. how are their families and friends going to deal with what society deems as an appropriate punishment for them?

i think this message also could’ve been conveyed better if we had more prominent “corrupt” heroes aside from endeavor and hawks. the top ten minus them and the irrelevant guy who retired after the war arc are all portrayed narratively as good people. iida’s brother is attacked by stain for no real reason at all aside from not being all might. all might’s heroism ends up being bad for society overall yeah, but so much of that is because of who toshinori is as a person rather than hero society (which does play a part but if toshinori just hadn’t pushed himself to be the best and number one savior for everyone there wasn’t necessarily any society forcing him to until after he’d already showed them he could do it).

PLUS the existence of afo offsets this message. everyone can be saved…..besides the real super evil people?? if, and I’m not saying they do, shigaraki and afo had the same kill count, is the lack of a sad childhood the only thing that makes afo beyond redemption? i mean he might not be gone gone if he’s still inside shigaraki’s mind or whatever, but that doesn’t change the fact that the heroes were trying to kill him too. narratively, why was all might in the right for killing him all those years ago when hawks was in the wrong for killing twice? because twice was kinder? because twice was neurodivergent??

mha also a little bit contradicts itself because. hero society is exposed post war arc. civilians have every right to be mad that their current number one is an abuser and that the heroes failed and couldn’t protect them. but theeeen, we have ochako’s speech in which she yells at scared civilians that “the heroes are the ones who are getting dirty!” which is like. yeah. they are. but during and post the war arc civilians also very much died. i feel for izuku but at first glance if someone promised you a safe haven from being attacked and then said oh never mind we’re actually going to bring the one guy shigaraki can absolutely track and hunt down here because he’s tired of fighting, getting upset with that is not totally unreasonable.

and I get that civilians are supposed to get mad at heroes for being corrupt, but not for failing, because heroes should never have been put up on such a high pedestal. they should be seen as humans who are as fallible as everyone else. that doesn’t change the fact the average innocent person would be rightfully scared, because it’s not just the heroes who are getting dirty. people are getting attacked. the heroes are not saving everyone. they shouldn’t have to and there’s no way they realistically can, but picking and choosing which aspects of hero society people are allowed to criticize feels…meh. if there’s gonna be fallout, fallout that endeavor and hawks if not the rest deserve, there should be proper fallout.

i don’t think the UA kids should be treated as full-fledged heroes because they’re not, but their age should not be the one thing that makes them better than the current heroes. they’re liable to the same mistakes and the same fallings. or they would be had they not all been portrayed from the beginning as one big happy hopeful crowd who just wanna save the day! there was opportunity to show who was in it for the right and wrong reasons and somehow ochako who has been so poorly written for several seasons actually had the most relevant arc (besides bakugo) about being in the hero business for the right reasons. ochako should have interned with hawks ochako should have interned with hawks ochako should have interned with there should’ve been more students in it for the glory, for the money, for the fame, but even monoma from class b and mineta are apparently true heroes! is being a high schooler all it takes??

anyway this is all jumbled and a mess but mha should’ve made hero society far more corrupt to justify its dismantling is my point. right now we’re getting a vibe of “the heroes are just as bad as the villains if they don’t save them too” and that’s just like. objectively not true. if hawks was supposed to be an assassin for hire for the hero commission, we should’ve seen him kill people aside from the guy who could’ve turned the tides of the war, at the very least actually kill best jeanist to finish his mission. if toga wanted to preach about how the heroes are just as bad because they killed jin, it falls flat when she’s on machia’s back stomping on people and then killing an old lady to talk to ochako. the heroes should try to save everyone including the villains because that’s what heroism is, but they are not equally as bad as the villains for trying to stop the villains.

the hero commission in general is just like afo, a vague villain we can blame so that we don’t have to blame the underlings. if people discriminate against animal quirks we should’ve seen it way earlier with shoji and tsu and tokoyami, maybe really expanded on it once mirko and hawks and even the dog cop were introduced. if sooo many heroes were in this for the wrong reasons, where are they? the current “failings” of the hero system are all might, endeavor, hawks, lady nagant and bakugo. everyone else is fine! there was a chance to show that someone like mount lady isn’t a real hero because she only cares about fame. there was a chance to show that aizawa is a good hero compared to others because he doesn’t try and seek glory. but these points are only halfway done and then kinda left there.

#mha manga spoilers #mha #anti mha #<- not really but tagging it in case #mha critical

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loving-n0t-heyting · 6 months

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In any case, the combination of impotence and guilt leads to shame: the sense of being morally stained by something one cannot help. It feels like guilt because it is reflected in what we choose to do or omit — to turn a blind eye to that homeless person, to show a “reasonable” skepticism about accusations of sexual harassment or assault, or more generally to go along with something that you can’t feel good about. It feels like shame because the magnitude of the problem expressed in each particular instance is overwhelming and debilitating — it’s not as though I can end homelessness, or stop all future sexual harassment or assault, or make the world a better place.

Every time we make that compromise, a debt of guilt builds up inside us. We know we are not merely passive observers or victims, that we do make choices and could have done otherwise. We feel shitty, and we get tired of feeling shitty, and that makes it harder to do the right thing the next time — because doing the right thing would be a tacit admission that we had been wrong all those many times before.

I can’t say that the pathology being diagnosed here is among my own numerous and severe failures of character, but this little essay really helped me to empathise with the author and a lot of others ik, and to understand some of the differences between my ways of thinking and theirs

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ryo-apologist · 3 months

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Feathers and Ashes

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader x Keigo Takami

CW: Spoilers, but at this point, they aren't new. This isn't really headcanons or a story, just my thoughts on it. Depictions of toxic relationships.

AN: Okay. hear me out here- HEAR ME OUT. It's always Shigadabi this, Hotwings that, which yes. They are elite. They are delicious. But there's a whole market being missed on Shigahawks. Dusty feathers if you will. All I know is I want to be between them and no one is letting me without letting Dabi in too.

~Darling XOXO

☾ It doesn't matter what side of the war you're on. Not anymore. When entangled with a hero bred from a society crumbling beneath the weight of their owns sins of the very idea of heroism and the villain aiming to destroy it all with a simply touch of his fingers and leave it in smokey ruins, you don't get an opinion.

☾ Maybe you do, but it's biased. Hawks wants to preach that he's a hero, he's one of the good guys, but Keigo can't even believe that himself.

☾ How can he when he has the blood of someone who saw him as an ally still warm on his palms, seeping through his gloves and tainting his very soul. The one still flickering with the hope he had as a child.

☾ Hawks and Keigo are such interesting characters. I say 'and' because I personally view them as two different entities. Not in a split personality way, not, but as in Hawks is a mask that Keigo wears to protect his fragile little heart so no one can touch it. And if we chose to delve into his entire character, he's full of so much gray morality, truly I could write an essay on him and his entire motivations and how he's so much more than what the fandom devolves him too.

☾ Shigaraki Tomura on the other end of the spectrum is an individual so tainted and rocked by a past soaked in trauma thats never been addressed in a proper way that he's blind to positions that even slightly challenge his own. His rivalry with Stain back in season one (two? Idk it's been awhile.) set his character, and thus development, up in the way that told the audience he didn't like challenges to his authority in any way. The following fight against Overhaul confirmed this. There's a difference between the way he was characterized as childish, which he is, and the way his reactions played out to these challenges. With Overhaul, this entire thing showed that above all else, Shigaraki is strategic. He's incredibly intelligent when it comes to battle IQ and war fronts and has proven it. (Not with the USJ incident, but liken that to starting a game. You never know how to play first round, but play around a bit and learn the controls a bit better and you get better.)

☾ Now, why do I say all of this in a post about a threesome with crust one and two?

☾ It's important to know why I find this dynamic so interesting because these two as individual characters are interesting, but look at their parallels.

☾ We have two children, surrounded by broken homes, that need a way out. Their quirks give them that ability, but at what cost? The cost of gathering the attention of adults who know right from wrong, taking them in and indoctrinating them in all the wrong things while encouraging enforcing propaganda about ideologies that directly contradicted what they were preaching.

☾ Neither side is truthfully right, argue with the wall about that (I'm not saying they're justified in how they're handling the war, do not get me wrong about that), but Keigo and Tomura will be damned before giving up their spot in the war, and that is something so fun to play with.

☾ Alright, back to the fun stuff you clicked read more for.

☾ Your opinion? Doesn't matter. In fact, I would avoid that topic entirely between them. Hawks is willing to kill for what he believes in, may Jin rest in peace, but so is Shigaraki evidently.

☾ Keigo and Tomura, however, are willing to set aside their ideologies.

☾ Do not get the idea that this is a healthy relationship by any means. No. I do not believe that even in his darkest depths Shigaraki is capable of anything moderately healthy. In the same vein, I don't think Hawks is either. It's not feasible with their lifestyles, it's not feasible with their missions, it's not feasible with their characters.

☾ Shigaraki is infamously territorial and possessive. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He wants what he claims is his, and he wants it now. He has the power to do so, he has the will, he will get what he wants.

☾ The only way I can see this happening is this: Hawks takes up a secret lover, how this happens is hard to say- pick your poison, I personally love them being a villain playing undercover hero and getting close, but that's me- and Shigaraki catches wind of this. Let's say we run with that idea, of the sweetheart being a villain of their own right, then they aren't affiliated with the league. Or maybe they are, I don't know. But Hawks and his villain sweetheart are running around, the former believing this is a villain trying to make a change and Keigo wants to help them, if a bit weary.

☾ And Shigaraki notices. Nothing big like the number two playing around with a villain goes on in the underground without him knowing. So he knows, and he doesn't know what the villain sweetheart is going after, but he wants in. He doesn't want anything opposing his rise to power, especially not some half-baked jack-off that thinks Hawks will save them.

☾ But then he meets them and maybe they aren't as bad as he hastily decided. He still doesn't like them, but he isn't going to dust them right away. They chat. Maybe they're threatened to fall under the League, or maybe they're willing to team up in exchange for something. Drugs, money, fire power, hard to say.

☾ But villain sweetheart refuses to give this up. Dabi fucked up with Hawks, he pulled the trigger pin far too early. But them? They have it locked down. Hawks is learning. It's subliminal, it's conditioning, it's something so small that Hawks only picks up on it when something in his routine changes to accommodate and by then it's too late.

☾ I think Hawks is honestly too smart for anything big, honestly he's probably too smart for any sort of manipulation.

☾ For the most part.

☾ Oh you thought I'd leave it at that? No. Think about the Dabi situation. He's down, he's vulnerable, he's been outed and now he's hated by the country. Hawks is dead. Keigo is yearning for something to grasp onto, to hold that won't crumble between his fingers like his hero career currently is.

☾ Now is the moment to strike. You have villain sweetheart offering up information about a mafia group they don't like, giving their information the benefit of the doubt and giving them the title of 'useable'. Not trustworthy, but the heroes take their plea for redemption with some merit.

☾ And Keigo clings to them the moment they offer any sort of apology, fake or not, for what happened, because it's an acknowledgement that he was wronged in some way shape or form.

☾ He's weary of being hurt again, but should villain sweetheart capitalize on this? Work their way deep into his shuddering and quivering heart and take post there? Manipulate the situation so that his focus shifts from hero politics to them?

☾ And then they team with Shigaraki?

☾ Keigo, not Hawks (Hawks is dead. He will remain that way. Keigo is running the show even if he's running it off a cliff), can be considered a guard dog. He's not trusted, fuck no, not at all, but he's defense. He's not trusted as offense, but canon fodder? Absolutely.

☾ If his villain sweetheart needs him, he's there.

☾ Shigaraki isn't happy, but he's too interested in villain sweetheart to let go. So what's the obvious solution?

☾ There isn't a good one. Hawks is, at this point, enamored in a relationship so dependent it's hilarious. He can't let go and he can't be alone, not again. He's done it as a child, he's done it as a hero, and he's hated it. he can't be alone. He can't, he can't, he can't.

☾ But there's a new toy in the toybox, a new piece on the board, and Shigaraki wants it. He needs it, no matter how useless it'll turn out to be. It's a piece the other side doesn't have. An uncontrolled, unpredictable, undocumented variable.

☾ To a degree, he knows what the heroes will do. He knows him and Deku will fight. He knows that. They, admittedly, know he'll do whatever it takes. They know he's going after their foundation built off of All Might and anything, especially Deku, to take it down and he's willing to take quirks to do so.

☾ But this new piece? No one knows what they want. They don't know who they're going after. They don't know what is driving them. And that, in a war, is dangerous. It can make or break either side.

☾ And Tomura Shigaraki wants them.

☾ Keigo has been proven as a non-threat to him. He's not dangerous anymore. He's been disarmed once, he has a blatant weakness to which they can exploit. So if he wants to cling to this variable then so be it. It's not on his radar.

☾ Anything Hawks can do to him, he can combat with his own quirk. He's not worried.

☾ Keigo is terrified. His quirk? We need to be so real. It's cool, yes, helpful, absolutely, but in the grand scheme? Not that combat oriented. He can't beat any of the big bad villain players unless their own quirk isn't combat based. Like Twice. Toga, I feel they are pretty evenly matched and will come down to something like swordsmanship and training. Dabi and Shigaraki? Not a chance. I hate to say it, I'm a Hawks baby fr, but being a Hawks person means I can admit he's only all that and a bag of chips because the commission pushed his image to be that.

☾ Anyway, Keigo? Terrified of losing his sweetheart. He's following them no matter what just trying to garner where they want to take this and how.

☾ So, where are we now?

☾ Keigo, with his hero persona long dead, is clinging to a villain who's using this to their advantage all while said villain is behind the scenes, working with one of the biggest players on the board currently. Said big player thinks this new piece is little more than a morsel of advantage over the other side, but this new piece has taken what is essential a bishop or knight (a piece that you never really think about until you're pinned by them) from the other side and converted them.

☾ Shigaraki is willing to ignore Hawks, but Keigo isn't willing to do the same. It's too risky for him, so he's right back where he swore he'd never go again into the lion's den.

☾ So it's a stalemate. Shigaraki isn't willing to let go, but neither is Keigo.

☾ It's a dynamic that is endlessly interesting to me and something I feel the fandom can explore. Dabi adds spice, but it's been beaten in every way with Shigaraki and Hawks and all three together. But he's got his share, Dabi's kicked to the curb for now. Let's explore these two as one pairing, because their dynamics are endlessly interesting with their parallels and their characters.

☾ I'm getting rambly so I'll end it there. I'm sure I'll write so much more about what I'm dubbing dusty feathers because I love them so much individually and can only imagine them as a pair.

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