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whitedarkmoonflower · 6 months

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Until the death us parts

Assassin!Sihtric x Templar!reader

Authors note: This is a fic for @little-diable 15K celebration. It's the first time I dive into another universe, but unusual tasks require unusual solutions. Thank you so much @st-eve-barnes for brainstorming with me!

The rules: " (..) I'll choose one of the books listed above and will select a sentence I can find on the page belonging to the number you've chosen for your ask. You can do with the sentence/quote as you please, but it has to show up in the fic."

My sentence: “We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery.” From Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Warnings: mention of violence, angst, SMUT, 18+. Assassins Creed is used only as a background setting without exploring any further.

Word Count: 4,6K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

It must be late in the evening already, there is no way of telling for sure, as the small laboratory-like room with featureless walls, painted a stark white, has no windows, but you feel your stomach growling and that is a sure sign. Your eyes keep drifting to the other side of the room. The light from the flickering fluorescent lamp at the ceiling is feeble, but it is enough to make out Sihtric's features pretty clearly. He's still asleep on what looks like a surgery table, wrists and ankles strapped down.

You have failed. For the first time in your life you have failed your mission and that has brought you here in this damn cell together with the one and single reason for your failure. If someone had told you that you'd fall for your target, you'd have laughed right in their face. But here you are, still trying to wrap your head around it. It was so unexpected, this whole thing. Sihtric was different. Kind. Gentle. Warm. For the first time in your whole life, someone had cared about you without wanting anything back.

You feel anger slowly spreading within you, pulsing through your veins and making your cheeks blush. But it's not directed at him; it's aimed squarely at yourself. You should have come clean earlier, but fear of losing him held you back. For once in your life, you craved a brief taste of normality – being in love with a charming, handsome Dane, just a normal gay from next door, whose only flaws were fondness for crazy haircuts. How foolish! Deep down, you knew it couldn't last. You knew who he was far too well. You knew why the Order had set you on him. You just hoped you had a bit more time… Now it's all over anyway.

—---------------------------------------------

It's just an ordinary autumn day, kind of gray and windy, and there's this soothing sound of rain hitting your umbrella as you walk up the library stairs. You love your new job although it is not that new anymore. It served your purpose and allowed you to sneak into Sihtric’s life without raising any suspicion. He was a frequent guest there for his love of the books and you were the new and pretty librarian - what a perfect setting.

For you, books have always been more than just bound paper; they are portals to other worlds. Each time you open one, it feels like you're stepping into a world where magic is real, and heroes are fighting the good fight. These stories are your happy place, where you can dive into adventures where anything can happen, where the little guy wins, and the good always beats the bad. You've always wanted to be like those heroes in the stories. You kind of convinced yourself that you were, but lately, it's been harder to keep believing that.

You love the library's peaceful vibe, a place of calm and age-old wisdom. The dim, gentle light streaming through tall windows bathes the bookshelves in a warm glow, and the hushed murmurs of readers add to the tranquil ambiance. It's like a sanctuary free from the strictures of any creed, a testament to free will and creativity – ironically, the very things you're trained to suppress and eliminate.

Why? It’s a question that does not let go of you lately. You repeat the mantra ingrained in you during your training – to protect the innocent, to end violence – but doubts linger. Can violence really put an end to violence? It’s not that easy, you snarl at yourself. Yet, this nagging inner voice has only grown louder since Sihtric came into your life, challenging your beliefs with such force that at times it's overwhelming. Sometimes you can’t stand it anymore, you lock yourself up in the bathroom, open the shower and cry biting your fist to the blood.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice the figure that accidentally collides with you just as you reach the top of the stairs.

"Oops, sorry!" someone blurts out, but before you get a chance to reply, the stranger has already vanished into the throng of students at the entrance. You're left with a strange, uneasy feeling in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand reaches into your pocket and there it is – a small, folded note that makes your face turn pale as you clutch the door handle for support.

“PR275 4 A7 H3

P19, L160

2 28 5 19 14 10 20 6 13”

You don't even need to read it to know what it means, yet you find yourself dashing through the spacious corridors, coat flapping open, scarf still wound around your neck, trailing in the air. Your heart pounds in your chest, the blood roars in your ears. The sound of your shoes slapping against the polished wooden floor is stark against the library's usual quiet. You cling to hope. Until you haven’t deciphered it, there is still hope, you try to convince yourself, even though deep down, you know it's a vain hope.

"Hey, slow down! What's the matter?" comes the concerned voice of your boss from the office on the left.

You barrel past her, not stopping or even glancing back. You don’t care. You know this place so well, every corner and crevice, it propels you forward, guiding you even as your thoughts whirl in chaos. "PR" - that's English literature, located at the far end of the corridor. The code refers to the English Renaissance period, 1500-1640. You head for the first aisle on the left, bookcase 4, shelf 7, third book. It has to be there.

The warmth in the library is suffocating. Sweat beads on your forehead as you hurriedly unbutton your coat and fling it to the ground, the scarf landing atop it in a heap. You're breathing hard, a mix of exertion and sheer anxiety, as your eyes dart over the book titles, scanning spine after spine for the one that holds your fate. Finally, your shaking hands grasp the book - William Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

"Come on, hurry up," you mutter to yourself. Page nineteen, line 160.

“We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery,” you read the line out loud without realizing it, quickly moving to the nearest table to grab a pen.

You unfold the small piece of paper and start counting: one, two, it’s “e”. One, two, three… twenty seven, twenty eight - “l”. One, two, three, four, five - “i”. Your heart pounds as if desperate to break free from your chest. But there's no need to go further; you know what it spells. Yet, you can't stop, you keep counting and writing down letter after letter. You need to be sure. Your fingers tremble as they slide over the paper: "e", "l", "i", "m", "i", "n", "a", "t", "e". ELIMINATE.

Your eyes keep returning to the paper, tracing over each letter repeatedly, while your lips silently mouth the word that signifies the end of your fairy tale. You quietly pick up your coat and scarf, your movements slow, defeated, and begin the solemn walk back to the entrance.

"I quit," you declare, your words sharp as you stride past your boss's office. You don't pause to see her reaction, her astonishment. You just walk out, pushing through the big, heavy library doors. Once outside, you lean against them, feeling their solid presence at your back.

The rain pours down relentlessly, drenching you completely. It seeps into your clothes, your skin, soaking you to the core. Your hair, cold and wet, cling to your forehead. You can’t make yourself care, you don’t even register it. You stand motionless, lost in a daze as you gaze across the small square in front of the library. People hurry past with their umbrellas, like a sea of oversized mushrooms, but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the scene.

"Why me? Why now?" The questions hammer in your mind, unanswerable and haunting.

—----------------------------------------------

“Hey, honey! I’m home. How was your day?” Sihtric’s familiar, cheerful voice rings out from the hallway.

“Terrible,” you whisper to yourself, still staring out of the window.

"Please, don’t. Just stay back, don’t come any closer, not yet," you silently beg. You know deep down it doesn't really matter if he hangs back a bit longer; it's not going to change anything. It's just putting off the inevitable, really. But you can't help it. You're clinging to these last few normal moments, trying to stretch them out as long as possible before everything flips upside down.

Your knuckles are white, gripping the hilt of your Poseidon, and you compulsively check the silencer for what must be the twentieth time. The footsteps are getting louder now, and there are those squeaky floorboards right outside the door. As the first one creaks under his weight, you know Sihtric is just about to walk into the living room. Every creak feels like a countdown, and you're just hoping he'll take his time, maybe get distracted by something, anything. You're not ready, but then again, you wonder if you'll ever really be. The sound of those footsteps, so familiar and usually so comforting, now feels like they're marching right through your heart.

You can't help it – you just have to see him one more time. You want to soak in those eyes of his, thick-lashed and mismatched, that always seem to look at you so seriously but kindly. You're craving that warm, bright smile that lit up at the sight of you after a long day, and oh, that infectious laugh of his that gets you giggling every time, no matter what. But you know this moment's going to get swallowed up by anger and fear real soon. Slowly, you turn around to face him, your right hand tucked away behind your back. You're doing your best to smile, but it's shaky, and you can feel your nerves all over the place. It's just a moment, but to you, it feels like forever. You let your eyes roam over his face, trying to burn this image of him into your memory – that neat goatee, those full lips, his straight nose and strong cheekbones, and finally, those big, deep eyes that always seem to say so much. As your eyes lock with Sihtric's, you feel this weird shiver run down your spine.

That shiver turns into full-on tremors as Sihtric's concerned voice cuts through the silence. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost. Everything okay?" His eyebrows pull together in worry, his eyes filled with concern.

In one swift motion, almost like a reflex, you pull your gun from behind your back, pointing it straight at Sihtric. "Don't move," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, as tears start to form in your eyes. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Baby, what the hell is this? What's happening?" Sihtric's voice is a mix of shock and disbelief, his body freezing in place. You want to pull the trigger, you really do, but your fingers just won't move. They're like they're not even yours anymore. A cry breaks from your lips, raw and pained, a sound of someone who's reached their breaking point, as you realize you can't do it. There's no way you can pull that damn trigger.

In just a heartbeat, Sihtric's right there, up in your face. His hand grips your throat, pushing you hard against the wall – his speed and strength just incredible. You can barely breathe, eyes wide with fear, hands clawing at his in a vain attempt to break that iron hold threatening to suffocate you. When he finally lets go, you drop to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, your head spinning like crazy from the lack of oxygen.

“You’re a Templar,” he spits the words out like they were poison, an accusation, a curse, his mismatched eyes burning with disgust and resentment, as he glares down at you. “You’ve been spying on me this whole time.”

"I was, at first," you manage to gasp out between coughs, tears streaming down your face. "But not anymore, Sihtric, I swear. Please, you have to believe me."

"Believe you? Why the hell should I?" His voice is bitter, a blend of disbelief and scorn.

You flinch as Sihtric's rough hand clutches your hair, yanking your head back against the wall. “What have you been telling them? Did you report on every time I fucked you?” Sihtric snarls in your face, mockery in his voice laced with an undercurrent of sadness, even pain.

"I didn't, I swear..." you start, but his hand comes down hard across your face, cutting you off and leaving you tasting blood.

"Don't lie to me!" he roars, his face inches from yours. "You were just about to shoot me. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?"

You're about to say something else, but then you both hear it - footsteps coming up the stairs, voices, though muffled, getting closer.

"Get out of here, now," you hiss at Sihtric, grabbing his arm as you try to get back on your feet. "I'll handle them. Look, you might not believe me, but I'm not your enemy. Just go!"

Sihtric's bewildered gaze flickers between you and the door, his grip loosening. He is listening to the growing noise outside. “Go,” you urge, “I'm done for anyway. There's no way out for me. But you – you can still make it.”

He hesitates, eyes darting, weighing if this is a trap, a desperate attempt to win back his trust. But the choice is taken out of his hands. The sounds outside are getting closer, more urgent. It's clear there are too many of them for even both of you to handle.

—---------------------------------------------

And now you're here, in this small, windowless room, feeling the walls close in on you, the air almost too thick to breathe. You close your eyes, but there's only silence, the room soundproof, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?" Sihtric’s hoarse voice jolts you, but you don't bother turning around. There's no need; it's just the two of you. It was about time he woke up.

"I'm locked up here with you," you snap, frustration boiling over. Your hands tangle in your hair, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you slide down against the wall.

"Would you mind untying me?" Sihtric's voice is oddly casual, as if this were a normal conversation over dinner.

"Why? So you can have another go at killing me?" you can’t help but smirk at yourself, as if it mattered anyway. To you, it feels like you're already dead. You can't fathom why they left you alive, locked up here with him. You are useless to the order now and useless things are disposed of. Perhaps this is your punishment – to face death at the hands of the only man you ever loved. Anger surges through you, propelling you to his side in three quick steps. Furiously, you tug at the leather straps binding his wrists and ankles.

As soon as the straps loosen enough for Sihtric to free his hands, his iron grip clamps around your throat, pinning you against the wall. You don't resist. What's left to lose?

His eyes burn with hate, scorn, disgust. Gone is the mischievous, sweet, caring look you fell for. That charming, adoring gaze is lost forever.

"I'm dead either way, and I'd rather it be by your hand than theirs" you manage to gasp out.

It's a bitter truth. If this was meant to be your punishment for failing your mission, then they've miserably failed. This is your twisted form of revenge, a testament to your self-determination – the power to choose your own end. A smile tugs at your lips at the irony. The powerful order, dedicated to dominating human free will, has failed to subjugate someone as seemingly insignificant as you. Fear doesn't grip you; there will be no begging. You've made your choice, and as you're pinned against the wall, Sihtric's fingers digging painfully into your skin, marking your throat, you can’t hold back a satisfied smile forming on your lips.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already." Sihtric growls, his face twisted with anger. There's a certainty in his tone that sends a chill through you.

"So what's stopping you? Just do it already!" you shoot back at him, provoking deliberately.

"You betrayed me, played me, you're just a whore, selling yourself," Sihtric's voice is hoarse and raspy, his breathing growing heavier with each venomous word.

"Really? I think we're pretty much the same, you know. When were you planning on telling me the real you, Assassin?" you snap back, your voice just as sharp.

You sense a subtle shift in Sihtric's behavior. His eyes intensely scan your face, almost as if trying to see through you, his face mere centimeters from yours. You can feel each of his breaths against your skin, hot and rapid. A whimper escapes you under the mounting pressure, tears brimming in your eyes, yet your gaze remains steadfastly locked with Sihtric's. Your breath is cut off, his grip tightening, and your eyes begin to roll back as darkness edges in.

Then you hear it, rough and low, right by your ear. "I hate you," he growls, "I fucking hate you!" Sihtric breathes heavily against your ear, as his hands leave your throat and slide down, finding the bottom edge of your T-shirt and gliding beneath it.

His touch is warm, firm and bruising as his hands start roaming your bare skin, pushing up your bra and squeezing your breasts roughly, angrilly. Sihtric leans closer, his nose in the hook of your neck as he inhales you sharply, almost desperately, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His lips and teeth are on your neck, grazing, biting, leaving marks on their way down to your shoulder, there is nothing gentle in the way he treats you, anger pulsing through his veins, but you are unable to contain the hungry moan, escaping your lips parted in a smugly grin.

The way Sihtric has you trapped against the wall with his body lets you feel the hard bulge in his crotch, pressing against your thigh. Your head's all foggy, you are dizzy from not getting enough air, and from your thirst for more as you feel each bruising touch burning right through your skin, straight to your soul, reminding you hard that you're both here, both alive. Everything else just fades away. Right now, in this moment, it's just you and him, and the familiar heat pooling in your lower back and your walls clenching and pulsing are the only things your dazed mind can focus on. He can do whatever he wishes with you, you will not struggle, you will not protest, you are yielding, you deserve it, you accept it and crave for it, for one last time.

And in the next moment you are pulled away from the wall and bent over that metallic table, a loud whine escaping you from the force you crush against it, Sihtric’s hands pull down your jeans in one quick motion, leaving them half way at your knees. His one hand is on the back of your neck, pushing you firmly down against the table, holding you in place while the other pulls aside your already soaked panties, pushing his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, already dripping, like the filthy whore that you are. Do you like it? Huh? I will fuck that dirty smile out of you until you’ll not remember even your name anymore.”

Your mind is too hazed, too immersed in the burning sensation in your core, to be able to formulate any words, as you arch your back, consumed by your hunger, your need to feel him inside you, to take everything he can give you, all of his anger, all of his hate and all of his love and desire, if it’s still there somewhere behind that maddening dark shimmer in his eyes.

You hear him undoing his breeches, freeing his cock and giving himself a few strokes, his breath ragged and itchy. You shiver in anticipation as he places his leaking tip at your entrance and pushes inside your wet and throbbing cunt, sheathing himself with a low growl until the very end of his shaft. You cry out at the sudden stretch, not out of pain, it’s the overwhelming pleasure of feeling Sihtric filling you perfectly that makes you grab the edge of the table and push back against him as he starts thrusting into you, slapping his hips against your bottom with a relentless, breathtaking pace.

“Is that all you've got?” you hiss, hearing a curse leaving Sihtric’s lips, his heavy and rapid breathing mingling with wild groans, as he ruts against you like a crazed beast driven by his anger.

“Give me more, Sihtric. I need more of you,” you cry out, your breath panting, your knuckles turning white from the force you are clutching the edge of the table, trying to spread your thighs, to open yourself to take in more of him. You want him, you need him, harder, deeper, you want to feel all of him, bringing you to the limit, splitting you open, possessing you, making you feel the life pulsing through your every vain.

“Fuck,” Sihtric groans, his hands on your hips now, his fingers digging deep into your skin, as he fastens his pace, snapping his hips against you, savagely, brutally, “It’s what you want, huh? Believe me, you’ll not be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

Sihtric’s hands land on your cheeks, parting them, as he watches your pussy swallowing his cock again and again, your arousal dripping down your thighs. The slaps of Sihtric’s hips against you, his rapid breaths and your moans of pleasure echo around the room. Your eyes start rolling back into your head as you feel your climax pooling; each time he pushes forward, his length reaches that spot inside you that makes your back arch and your thighs tremble, feeling the tension building up and bringing you ever closer to the edge.

Sihtric’s fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls you roughly up against his chest, his teeth on your neck, bruising more marks into it, the other hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing and circling it. He is angry, he is hurt and he fucking hates how much he loves and craves you; with each thrust, each snap of his hips, Sihtric feels his anger dissipating. You are his doom, his damnation, his sweet madness and there is no escape, no cure from it. He just wants to fuck you into oblivion, to make you cum on his cock, screaming his name one last time, as there might be no tomorrow, no other day for it.

“You’re mine and you’ll always be mine; nothing else matters,“ Sihtric’s breath comes out in harsh and ragged hot pants against your ear as he turns your head to kiss you harshly. A desperate sob escapes your lips as you answer his kiss, his words echoing in your ears and tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Sihtric…,” you whine in disappointment as he suddenly pulls out, but he flips you around, lifting onto the table with one swift move as if you were weightless, yanks off your jeans and panties and sinks back into you, both of you moaning heavily as he resumes thrusting into you with an insatiable frenzy.

“Damn, how I love those sounds you make,” Sihtric hisses in your ear, “Give me more of them. I bet they all are watching us right now, straining against their breeches. Let them hear you. I want you to let them hear you,” he demands and the dirty sounds that depart your lips, something between moaning and whining, are probably the most lewd ones you have ever made.

Your fingers slide up his arm until you reach his shoulders and you pull yourself closer to him, pressing your parted lips against his. You bite his lower lip, hard, but he doesn’t pull away, his lips crash against yours, kissing you with such desperation that you find yourself struggling to breathe.

“Say it… say that you are mine,” Sihtric growls into your mouth.

You look into his expressive, mismatched eyes, rolling back into his head from pleasure that you are giving him. You love the sharp features of his face, married with scars on his forehead and right cheek, you are his and he is yours, now and forever and it doesn’t matter how long this forever will last as you are sure to find him and claim him again and again in all the possible afterlives.

“Yours, only yours and nothing can ever change that…we are bound, forever, until the death us parts,” you whisper in between your heavy breaths with half lid eyes.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me,” Sihtric hisses, wrapping his fingers around your neck and squeezing slightly, his breath panting as he locks his gaze with you, and you do as he asks.

“Fuck, I could never hate you,” Sihtric breathes, his forehead touching yours, as he keeps thrusting into you, “Do you hear me? Never! I love you too much.”

You can only whimper incomprehensibly as his words make your walls start clenching around him. You try to hold back, to prolong the moment; from his rapid, shallow breaths, his thrusts getting sloppy, you feel that he is close too and you want to take him with you into oblivion.

“I can feel you, don’t fight it,” Sihtric’s firm voice reaches you through your dazzled consciousness, “Let it go, cum for me,” and you can do nothing but to obey as his words push you over the edge, your fingers tangle in his hair and you feel your climax rolling, washing over you in waves of pure bliss as you fall deeper and deeper into oblivion, his name on your lips like a prayer. You come undone, your cries of ecstasy filling the room, your nails digging into Sihtric’s shoulders. Sihtric’s pace doesn’t falter as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, your thighs trembling around his waist; you are spent and pliable, whimpering mess, spasming around his cock and a moment later his own moans and groans start bouncing off the walls as Sihtric follows you spilling himself deep inside you, your eyes locked and foreheads pressed against each others.

"I love you. I love so much,” you murmur, cupping his face in your palms as he breathes heavily against your skin. Tears trail down your cheeks, and your lips tremble just above his.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it," you whisper, barely getting the words out through your sobs.

"Shh, I know. It's okay, everything's going to be alright," Sihtric draws you closer into his embrace, pressing gentle kisses across your face. You know he is lying, but it doesn’t really matter. Right now, it’s enough. You just lean into him, letting his steady rocking soothe you.

"You know they'll use me against you," you murmur after a while, “You should have killed me.”

The room goes quiet except for your heavy breathing and the comforting sound of Sihtric's lips in your hair. "Let them try," he finally says, his voice low but determined, holding you close.

#little-diable15k #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric smut #modern!sihtric x you #the last kingdom #tlk #modern!sihtric x reader

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angelsanarchy · 15 days

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Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 12

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress @starry-eyed-wild-child

Mike walks into the bar and thought for a minute it might be closed. Y/n walked out of the back carrying a case of liquor and paused when she saw him.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" She asked surprised to see him.

"Leff kicked me out because the chick he was fucking was shrieking over the show I was watching." Mike shrugged.

"Uh oh, he must be with Candy tonight. She's obnoxiously loud when she's fucking." Y/n sat the box down and Mike looked at the door.

"Are you closed? I can get out of your way if-" She waved at him.

"It's usually dead on Tuesday's. Drink specials aren't until tomorrow so this is my one day to relax, restock, clean and run numbers." Y/n explained.

"Anything I can help with?" Mike offered making her smile.

"You don't have to help but you're more than welcome to hang out." Y/n wouldn't admit it but she actually really likes having Mike around. He made her laugh and she loved flirting with him. He actually made the days easier to get through.

"Seriously, let me help. I don't mind." He took the case from her and she showed him where to put it. She started writing down all the bottles she was restocking and Mike started placing them on the shelf.

"You looking for a part time job?" She teased.

"Hell I'd do this for free if I get to hang out with you." Mike watched how diligently she took notes and she smirked at him.

"Don't you ever get tired of flirting so shamelessly with me?" She asked honestly and he paused.

"No? Unless it bothers you...I mean I like you but I don't want to be one of those annoying guys that can't take a hint either." Mike's words were filled with concern and she laughed.

"You would know if your advances weren't welcome, trust me." She assured. Mike tried not to show the blush on his cheeks, turning away from her as he finished emptying the box.

"I'm actually a little bummed you didn't tough it out at home. Could have been a team player and made me another video." Y/n wiggled her eyebrow and Mike snorted a laugh.

"As if you would actually use them for anything." Y/n was surprised by his response.

"I did! I used it last night as a matter of fact." Y/n defended.

"How would I know that? You don't share the wealth with me." He pouted before taking his jacket off so he could break down the box the liquor bottles were in. Y/n watched the muscles in his arms flex.

"How about I make you a deal? You beat me in a game of pool and I'll make you a video all your own." Y/n walked over to the door and flipped the sign to closed, making sure to lock it.

"What happens if you beat me?" Mike walked over towards the pool sticks and grabbed one. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I get to watch you make one." She bit her lip, this time not missing the crimson on his cheeks.

"Sounds like a deal." Mike held his hand out and she shook it.

"Rack em' up." She gestured to him at the end of the table. Mike knew how to play pool. He had played with Leff when he was a kid but he could never beat him. He wasn't bad but he just could never win against Leff. He didn't really feel like he could lose either way when it came to their deal.

Y/n was clearly expecting him not to be any good because she kept giggling to herself every time he sunk a ball. She shook her head when he started taking the lead.

"Don't get so defeated. It won't be fun when I beat you." Mike teased.

"Are you getting cocky with me?" Y/n asked brushing past his shoulder.

"Maybe just a little. From what I saw the other day, you didn't seem to mind when I'm a bit cocky." Mike licked his lips as he bent over to take his shot. Y/n leaned forward exposing her clevage to his fill view. He shook his head at her.

"You're cheating." He hit the ball and it bounced off the wall.

"What? How am I cheating? I was just trying to get on your level...see what you were aiming for." She sipped a beer and he let his eyes linger from her chest to her face.

"I know what I'd like to aim at those things." He teased as she moved to set up her next shot. He moved to stand behind her and she could feel his bulge poking her as she rested bent in half over the table.

"See it's not so easy when you're distracted now is it." She fired off her shot and it went into the pocket. She turned around and smirked at him.

"I'm not sure what you mean but I suggest you focus up if you want to win." Mike rolled his eyes and knew his next shot could set him up to win, sinking two more balls by using one of hers to bank on.

"Bitch." Y/n gasped. Mike had to laugh out loud. She gave him a playful shove and he took a dramatic bow.

"Well I guess now you have to call your shot." She stepped into his space watching him look over the table at his best options. She danced her fingertips down his arm and he watched her move to stand between him and the table, resting her hands on his belt buckle.

"Now this is definitely cheating. I never took you for a dirty player." Mike watched her hands undo his belt and slowly unzip his pants.

"What can I say? I don't like to lose." She released his cock from his boxer briefs and he let out a quick breath. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked up her hand before gently jerking his cock, keeping her eyes on Mike's face as he closed his eyes and gripped the table with both hands.

"You know what I liked about your video most?" Mike opened his eyes as she spoke. It was hard for him to focus while she jerked him off though.

"I like listening to you breathe...and grunt. I love when a man makes noise when he's getting off. It makes me so fucking wet." Y/n gave him a squeeze and Mike moaned resting his forehead against hers.

"Y/n...if I tried to kiss you...would you punch me in the face?" Mike asked cautiously and she held his gaze.

"Yes." She replied but Mike didn't care for the repercussions. He gripped her face in his hands and slammed his mouth into hers. She kissed back instantly, letting her tongue dance with his own while she continued to jerk him off. Mike had wanted to kiss her since the morning they met but he never thought he would be in this kind of compromising position.

"Wait..wait!" Mike pulled back opening his eyes to see Y/n surprised.

"What? You want me to stop?" She asked almost worried. Mike shook his head letting her know he loved what she was doing but he had to taste her.

"I need to eat your pussy...please. I'll concede, you win. I just-" Mike realized how desperate he sounded but Y/n smiled at him as she sat back on the table and spread her legs.

Mike didn't even bother tucking his cock away before he got on his knees in front of her, yanking her shorts and panties off. He dove tongue first into her folds and she groaned. He tried to probe his tongue as deep as he could to taste her, shaking his head so that the tip of his nose would wiggle atop her clit.

"Fuck! You're good with your mouth when you aren't talking." She moaned, letting her head fall back and right hand rake through his hair to clutch and pull. Mike could feel her pushing her hips into his face, grinding against his face and tongue.

"You taste...so fucking good." Mike hummed as he pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked. Her legs jumped and he tossed them over his shoulders.

"Right there. Oh fuck. Don't stop. Right there Mike." She cried pulling on his hair as she whined. Mike wanted her to cum. He wanted to make her cum so badly that he double down on sucking her clit and shaking his head like a dog. He tasted her release and she squeezed her thighs around his head as she came, her juices running down his chin.

He lapped at her juices as he legs twitched on his shoulders. She laid her back against the pool table trying to catch her breath and Mike grinned, staring down at her, completely fucked and spent because of him.

He didn't have a ton of accomplishments but he considered this one of his proudest moments.

#FUCKING FINALLY #ya girl loves to tease #she loves a slow burn #but GD this one had me in stitches!#Mike #Mike x Y/n #Film: 5lbs of Pressure #5lbs of Pressure #One Shot series #Fever Dreams #Fever Dreams Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

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dearanakin · 9 months

Text

Break Free - Bucky Barnes x f!Reader / Part 3

Summary: You were an infiltrated nurse working for HYDRA and takes care of Bucky Barnes, who's still triggered and being used as The Winter Soldier.

Part Two

Warnings: blood, violence, fluff

Word count: 2.4k

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You felt every little hair on your body chill, and your spine stiffened by the look Bucky gave you. He didn't remember you this time. He didn't know it was you. He only knew you were his mission.

He walked towards you while holding a knife in one hand and used his metal arm to grab your neck, making you gasp for air. His grip was tight, and he never left his gaze, his blue eyes were darkened, his frown showing pure hatred.

Alexander Pierce was standing by the cell, watching you almost fall apart in front of him, because that's what he wanted.

Barnes pointed the knife on your stomach, and you flinched, trying to find strength to make him recognize you. You tried to hold his arms, but he's too strong and shakes you off of him.

"Bucky, it's me. It's (Y/N). Please, don't do that", you beg. Your voice is wavering as you try too hard to keep yourself alive. You feel the tip of the knife piercing slowly through your skin and you groan.

"I am not Bucky", he said. His voice as cold as his metal arm touch. He still looked at you like he wanted to make you his trophy.

"Tell me, (Y/N). Why did you think that, for a second, you'd outsmart me?", Pierce asked. He walked towards both of you, standing behind Bucky. "You think you can come to my place, fool on my people and leave without paying for that?".

The Winter Soldier still had your neck around his metal hand, while slowly pushing the knife on you. You felt your skin burning.

"What makes you think we're that stupid, you bitch?", Alexander came closer to you, and you tried to hold his gaze. At the same time, you looked at Barnes again, with pleading eyes.

"Please. Just don't", you tried holding your tears that started streaming down your cheeks, your body was stiffened and you were sweating from all the stress.

For a slight second, James noticed his eyes flicker, and he felt a stomp in his brain. He let go of your neck, holding your arm closer to him, taking you out of the cell.

"She's my mission, I'm going to finish it", he said, simply. He walked on your side outside your cell, and Pierce asked him where he was taking you. "I'll take it from here."

You weren't sure it was safe out there with him, especially when he's been triggered for less than an hour, and he always acted dangerous by then. You were walking in a hallway you never learned about and felt his grip loosen when a man stood a few steps away from you two.

You've seen him there before. Once, at least. He said he was German, and he wanted to work for HYDRA, but by the time they turned him down. He had this different way of looking at Bucky, and you straightened your sight.

"Hello, James", he said. "You might remember me, I'm Helmut Zemo". Oh, so that's the one. He was holding a .40 in his hand. Zemo didn't make a move, you felt Barnes breathing on your neck and realized this wouldn't be a conversation.

The soldier fired without a warning, but the other guy had learned how to dodge and had good reflexes and started shooting against him as well. Nothing would be more terrifying than standing there in the middle of a shooting, while Bucky tried to protect you.

"She's not your mission anymore, Barnes. She's worth a lot of money now, millions of dollars, I might say". Helmut sounded like you were some kind of gambling game he was about to win, and then the feeling of regret hit you in the pit of your stomach.

You didn't want all of this to be happening, but if you were to guess, you kinda could see that coming. Zemo aimed the artifact straight to your face, in an attempt to shoot you dead instead of making you suffer, but James made his metal arm an armor and the bullet ricocheted.

Bucky made you run with him, your body completely glued to his while he was looking for a way out. You still had no idea what he wanted to do with you at that point, but he saved you anyway.

While he was trying to find a way of getting out, going unnoticed, Zemo made his presence more than surprising and choked Bucky from behind. You let go of him for a second and stumbled on a pile of boxes, making a lot of folders hit the floor, papers spreading all over.

There were countless notes about super soldiers and people who were given the serum. There were pictures of them, reports and applications. Maybe there was something about him there, but you didn't have time to look for it.

Maybe you should, but that would slow you down. "Fuck it", you thought. You crouched on the floor, picking up all the papers you could, flipping through them. You spent several minutes looking for it, both of them still fighting hand to hand, leaving bruises on each other.

The sound of a shot makes you feel goosebumps in your body, and you look up, watching Barnes lean on a table, holding his flesh arm. Helmut was dead-staring at him, holding his gun while aiming for his head.

As soon as you get up, you get his attention, trying to confront him. "You want to play a hero only to get money, I thought you were smarter than that".

He looked at you, letting out a sarcastic laugh. His facial expression changed to amusement, while he was walking towards you to get closer. Zemo made it to you, and his expression changed once again.

"And you should know a woman doesn't get to be as important for the system as you think", he replied, slowly. He let out a scoff, turning around, looking at Bucky.

The soldier started to get on his feet, but Helmut stopped him, pointing the gun at him again.

"No, I'll be back to you in a second. No, I want you-", he said, now pointing at you. "To know no bitch screws around like that with my people".

His people? You thought he wanted to work there. You thought he was trying to get something from them, sure, but to understand he was already one of them made you tremble.

"And you know why you were his mission? Because that's what you deserve. You are playing a smart-ass princess who helps the others, but you're just another scumbag here". His words were thrown out like shrapnel, and they hit you hard.

You obviously didn't expect to be treated nicely there, considering the kind of company you were working for. But you had no idea you'd be one to be with a gun pointed at you.

Barnes was silent until he realized Zemo's words affected you in a way that made the soldier strike his knife on the man's back. You heard a low groan and watched as he searched for an object in his pocket and landed it on the floor.

You only had time to feel your heart thumping in your ears before you could run only a few feet away and the small device blew up the room. Helmut was lying on the ground, the knife still placed on his back. You were on your back on the floor, the entire room filled with fog and wreckage all over.

Your body hurt and it weighed you down, your legs were weak from all the stress and fright you've been through. Panting, you stood up and started looking for Bucky across the room, there were piles of ripped papers all over, the furniture was in a million pieces and Zemo was probably dead, at least you hoped.

You found Barnes unconscious again, he was bleeding through his arm and his face was injured from the fight and the blow up. It didn't take longer for him to wake up again, coughing from the dust.

"Hey, hey. It's me", you grabbed his face gently, and he looked at you concerned.

"What the hell are you still doing here? He could've killed you", he said. You weren't sure it was the Winter Soldier, but you could tell when Bucky was a little softer to you.

"So? You could've killed me too", you replied. He looked confused. You helped each other out of the building, sneaking through the vent he found. You were both miserable, and it took you ages to finally find an exit, but it happened.

You didn't want to think about it now, you didn't know exactly what to expect from him if he's not Bucky yet. You didn't know if it was safe to stay with him, but he wasn't trying to kill you, and he pulled you out of the living hell inside that company.

Pierce was still alive, though. And you thought maybe it would be a good chance to actually ask Steve to deal with him instead. You remembered of a place you were told about a few months back, one place out of the city no one would find, besides you and your coworkers.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You found a gas station where you and Bucky cleaned up yourselves and took a bus to the place. You didn't have clothes with you, you probably didn't even have your phone, but it was probably for the best anyway.

As soon as you got there, the man responsible for the small houses recognized you as one of his private investigator friends and let you in. It was like a motel facility, but it was secure. You paid the man a few extra bucks and asked him to go get some clothes and shop at the drugstore, which he did with no complaint.

The facility worked as a refuge, and it was hard for any other person to find it unless you have the location. You and James walked over a mile until you find it. You were bruised, and had to stitch yourself up.

Barnes still hadn't said a word since you took the bus, and it wasn't like he was going to say anything. You didn't care to leave the bedroom as it could be a good chance for him to escape, so you stayed as close as you could.

And then again you were there to patch him up, give him painkillers and treat him like a loyal patient for the hundredth time. He still didn't interact even then. While you were removing the remaining of the bullet, he sat still in the bathroom toilet, eyes looking at nowhere specifically.

It hit you again to see the amount of scars in his body, the small bruises with dry blood. The way his body language works every time you touch him to take care of him explains a little why he never actually killed you.

"You should not be near me", Bucky said, still looking straight. You didn't care about what he actually thought. You didn't care he was a threat.

When you didn't respond to what he said, he grabbed your wrist with his metal hand and squeezed it a bit. You stared at him, surprised by his sudden movement. He still had that frown, he carried a little of gray in his blue eyes.

"Don't get closer", he whispered. You knew why he was doing that. You knew he was trying to protect you from himself. But like a magnet, you gripped his chin, forcing him to look at your eyes.

"Bucky. I know you're there", you breathed. He didn't change his expression, but you could see his eyes flickered for a slight second. "Please, I want to do it".

He didn't say anything else, letting your wrist loose so you could finish patching him up. The way he looked vulnerable made your legs waver and your heart started beating faster.

You couldn't help but look how built up he was, how well worked out he looked, his abs perfectly shaped, his arms with big biceps. He felt your gaze upon him and stormed out of the bathroom, leaving you in your trance.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

After taking your shower and getting something to eat, you were ready to get in bed. You were sharing a king-sized bed, and there weren't any other single ones in the building. Barnes was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling like he was frozen.

You crawled until you reached his flesh arm, he felt an electricity there. He looked at your hand on his skin and then looked at you. He had the same confusing ones after he woke up from the trigger.

You settled closer to him, leaving traces of your fingers in his arms until you reached his scruffy beard. He was still looking at you, sort of amazed. His blood was burning inside him, and he wasn't sure it was a good idea to stay so close to you.

Deep in his mind, it felt the right thing to do. He cupped your cheek with the metal hand and bashed his lips into yours. It felt desperate, it felt warm, it felt messy, needy. When he felt your tongue caressing his, Bucky shivered under your gentle touch.

He groaned on your mouth, and it sent a shockwave through your whole body. You fixed the hair that was falling on his face and he sighed. Bucky didn't know he actually needed to kiss you this much until he felt it.

He doesn't remember being his old self, he doesn't remember he actually had a bit of your taste the other day. He knows, though, that the reason he wouldn't kill you, that the reason he never actually went after you to kill you, was because you were always there.

You were always the one who would clean him up, who would take care of his wounds, of his injuries, of his mess. You never actually complained about it, and you would always show how much you cared eventually.

Barnes gripped your waist with his metal arm in order to pull you closer, like you'd merge into him. He was desperate to feel your touch a little more than that, but at the same time he didn't want to feel like he was depending on it to feel sane.

When he broke the kiss, the soldier rested his forehead into yours, holding your hand with his. He opened his eyes to look at you, realizing something was different. It took him a moment, but he finally figured out what it was.

"Hey, it's me again", Bucky said. You felt your heart warm up and this time, you had no intention of stopping that kiss.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier fanfic #userashe #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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666writingcafe · 8 months

Text

Trouble is Brewing

My head is killing me. Even with my eyes closed, it's pounding hard enough that I feel like it's going to break free at any moment.

Immediately, I'm reminded of the restaurant incident, and my stomach sinks. I didn't destroy anything again, did I?

"I think they're awake." A soft, low voice. Lucifer, maybe?

"MC, can you hear me?" Is that Diavolo? I can only muster a thumbs up, as even a quick nod will make my headache that much worse. Someone murmurs what sounds like a spell, and the pain begins dissipating. Must have been a healing one.

Once I'm able to open my eyes, I take in my surroundings. The three of us are in Diavolo's room. Lucifer and I are on the couch, and my back is up against his chest. Meanwhile, Diavolo is crouching in front of me, a kind yet concerned smile on his face.

"What happened?" I ask, sounding incredibly sleepy.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Lucifer replies. I have to think for a second, but then the memory comes to me.

"We were on stage, waiting for the song chosen for our dance battle to play. I remember hearing the first few seconds and being surprised that the song in question was from the human world, and then..." I trail off as the mental picture gets fuzzy. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to recall anything else."

"That's quite alright," Diavolo comforts.

"And understandable," Lucifer adds.

"Did I black out during our performance?" The two men share a worried glance, making me nervous. I hope I didn't do anything embarrassing.

"That's about the best way to describe it, yes," Diavolo answers. "You experienced a magic-induced blackout." What?

"You became so focused on your performance that you started glowing," Lucifer continues. "By the time the song was over, it was clear to both of us that you were completely checked out, like your mind decided to take a vacation and leave your body behind." Well, that's terrifying.

"Thankfully, the song talked about the dancer becoming the dance, so people thought that your performance depicted that perfectly," Diavolo states. Wait, so does that mean...?

"Did I win?" I ask. Diavolo nods.

"Until the next bloody moon, you will be considered the most honored and respected person in the Devildom."

"Do I have to start wearing fancy clothes now?" Diavolo laughs heartily, while Lucifer quietly chuckles.

"Just keep being yourself," the latter responds, pecking me on the cheek. "That's the best part about you." As much as I want to relish in the sweet moment, there's a more pressing matter that must be addressed before I can truly relax.

"Did anything else happen while I was in my weird magical blackout?"

"What do you mean?" Diavolo inquires.

"Well, did any cracks show up on the floor or ceiling?"

"Fortunately, no." He pauses. "However, something did occur outside the walls of RAD." Oh no...did I somehow demolish a monument or something?

"We didn't find out until we got settled in here," he continues. "We knew that you weren't in any condition to go out and party with everyone else, and the only person that was bound to disturb us here was Barbatos, so we figured that this was the best location for you to recover in."

"Just as Diavolo sat down, his phone buzzed, and a few seconds after he saw what it was about, he grew serious," Lucifer takes over. "I asked him if everything was alright, and he just shook his head as he gave me his phone."

"One of the demons Solomon has a pact with was on his way home from the bloody moon event, and that involved him cutting through the primeval forest," Diavolo explains. "He nearly lost his balance on one of the cliffs, as it had been hit with an enormous landslide that took out one of its sides. He couldn't see the bottom of the cliff, even when standing right on the edge and looking straight down. He took pictures and sent them to Solomon, who sent them to me." And if Diavolo in turned showed them to Lucifer, then Lucifer probably wondered how such a thing could occur in that particular location, which means that Diavolo probably explained...

Lucifer knows, doesn't he?

I don't blame Diavolo for telling him. Lucifer is his right-hand man, after all. It was only a matter of time before he would have to reveal everything.

And yet...

It's not until two sets of arms wrap around me that I realize that I've started crying.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo

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khaylin27 · 1 year

Text

You're a What!?

Part 1 of DODGERS VS PHILLIES BABY!!!

Pairing: Miles Teller x Fem!Reader

Summary: What if Miles Teller dated someone who was a Dodger fan instead of a Phillies fan?

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, Miles being drunk, So many baseball references, Dodgers v.s. Phillies lol

Word Count: 1893

A/N: BEFORE Y'ALL COME AT ME, I respect Miles and Keleigh's relationship and marriage. THEY ARE RELATIONSHIP GOALS!!!! I wanted to write this because I love Miles and baseball. If you feel this isn't for you, please don't read it.

You met Miles not too long ago at a mutual friend's wedding in Philadelphia. He was one of the groom's friends and you were the bride's friend so you guys were ironically sitting at the same table.

You knew who he was because of his recent movie Top Gun Maverick but you were shy to say anything as he was drunk and dancing to Single Ladies by Beyoncé. So instead you decided to watch the Dodgers v.s. Angels game at your table while everybody danced.

As Max Muncy was up to bat, you suddenly got disturbed by a very drunk Miles Teller sipping another glass of whiskey. "Aren't you a little bit too drunk right now to be drinking some more?" You ask as your focus was now on Miles instead of the game.

"Maybe just a tiny bit but I'm sobered up now because you're talking to me." His flirty comment made your cheeks slightly red as he moves right next to you. "What are you watching there?"

"Umm the Dodgers v.s. Angels game. I've been a big baseball fan since I was little, especially for the Dodgers." As you said that you see that Max Muncy hits a home run and the Dodgers win. "OH MY GOODNESS. WE WON!!!" You shout out with happiness while Miles covers his ears. "Sorry for being loud."

"It's okay. I like a girl who's very passionate, especially about baseball. I'm the same way too. " He winks as he says that. "I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Miles, Miles Teller."

"And I'm James, James Bond." You both laugh at your response. "Just kidding. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm a friend of the bride."

"It's nice to meet you Y/N. I'm a friend of the groom but hopefully, I can be more than just a friend to you." He smirks at you as your cheeks were turning bright red. "Is it possible to get your phone number?"

"Well, I would give you my number but I don't think it's worth it considering how drunk you are. You might forget me." You laugh at the end because after tonight he might forget you ever existed.

"Sugar, I won't be able to forget a pretty face like you getting so excited about baseball." You're writing your number on a napkin as he says that and put it in his coat pocket.

"That's my number. If you don't forget about me, text me and we can go on a date." You say as you get your stuff to go say goodbye to the newlyweds. Leaving Miles at the table smiling happily as you leave.

The Next Day

You were asleep in the hotel bed until you hear your phone buzzing nonstop. At first, you thought it was your manager texting you for an upcoming project but to your surprise, it was someone else.

UNKNOWN: Hey sugar! I don’t know if you remember me from last night but I remember you ;)

YOU: Ahh so you didn’t forget about me, Miles. I feel touched 🥹

MILES: How can I forget a beautiful woman like you that passionately loves baseball?

YOU: You remember that too, I guess I left an impression on you. Are you hungover right now?

MILES: Yes you left a very good impression last night. And yes I am VERY hungover *sends pic

YOU: Aww so sorry for that bud. Wish I can help but your actions do have consequences. You drank too much and now you have a hangover.

MILES: It’s nothing that I’m not used to. It’ll go away once the medicine kicks in. What are your plans today?

YOU: Nothing really. This might be the only time I have free time so I’ll probably explore Philadelphia. I’d never been here before until I got invited to the wedding.

MILES: Oh that sounds fun but if you want I have Behind the Plate tickets to the Phillies tonight. Wanna come?

YOU: Ooh you got me at Behind the Plate tickets. Who are they playing against?

MILES: The LA Dodgers. Why?

YOU: Oh no reason :) What time do I have to be there?

MILES: We have to be there by 5 pm. So I’ll come to your hotel by 4:30 pm cause your hotel is close to the stadium.

YOU: WOW! How do you know I’m staying at a hotel?

MILES: I might have asked my friend where you were staying at 🫣

YOU: Wow 😅 you really think you have a chance with me?

MILES: Yep cause we both love baseball 😉 and I like you.

YOU: Is this considered our first date?

MILES: It can be our first date ;) Hey, I’ll text you when I’m at your hotel. I have to get ready.

YOU: Okay, talk to you later.

Hours Later

A couple hours later and now you’re heading down the hotel lobby. You see Miles wearing a red Phillies hat with a Phillies jersey. The Dodger fan in you was kinda disgusted but you didn’t want to say anything. This was considered your “first date.”

He hugs you. “Hey beautiful. You look amazing.” You were wearing a simple black romper but it made you look amazing. But there was one thing Miles didn’t like and it was the blue Dodger hat that was on your head. “Except I don’t like that hat.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble hot stuff but this girl is from LA and loves her Dodger blue.” You smile at him and comment back at him. “I also don’t like yours either.”

“I didn't know you were a Dodgers fan!?"

"If you weren't too drunk last night then maybe you would've remembered me saying that I've been a Dodgers fan since I was little." You laugh a little because he totally forgot you said that last night.

"Is that why you asked me what team the Phillies were playing today?” He asks as you guys walk into the limousine.

“Of course! If they were against someone else I wouldn’t have come. I’m loyal to my boys in dodger blue.” You smile at him. “You’re very lucky to have met me at the right time or else you would’ve lost me.”

In The Car

As you were heading to the stadium you guys started to get to know each other. He was born and raised in Philadelphia and perused acting. For you, you were born and raised in LA and perused being an influencer on social media. The conversation was very good and you got to know him a little more until you reached the stadium.

“Hey Y/N. I think we should hold hands. There’s going to be a lot of paparazzi and you might get lost.” He suggests as the limousine had stopped.

“Are you asking me because you’re worried or you just wanna hold my hand?” You ask with a smile as he smirks back.

Miles gets out of the car first and holds your hand as you get out of the car. He was right about the paparazzi, there were a lot and you were a little bit anxious. But when Miles was holding your hand it was calming to you and you got to your seats safely.

“Hey, thanks for holding my hand. I was feeling a little anxious back there with all that paparazzi but you calmed me down.” You sincerely thank him and he smiles.

“I’m glad that I helped. There’s going to be a lot of that today since I’m an actor and you're an influencer. But I’m going to be here for you.” You smile back at him. “Is it just me or are you hungry?”

“I’m kinda hungry too."

"I’ll ask a staff member to get us some Philly cheesesteaks. It’s a staple to have in Philadelphia and since it’s your first time you need to get it!” He says as he calls a staff member to get us some cheesesteaks.

Once he’s done talking to the staff member you ask him a question. “So who do you think is gonna win tonight?”

“I gotta go with my team. We got Harper and Schwarber!” He say’s excitedly. “You think your team is gonna win?”

“I for sure think my team is gonna win! We have Betts and Muncy.” You say with so much confidence to him.

Your Philly cheesesteaks come on time and you both open them. It smells so good but the taste is! Was so good!! “OH MY GOODNESS!! This is so good!!! How did I live my life not trying this!?”

“That’s what happens when you're a Dodger fan sugar. All you have is hot dogs.” Miles says.

“That’s not true. We have some BOMB tacos every Tuesday.” You say as you eat your cheesesteak.

Once you guys finish your cheesesteaks Miles makes you a deal. “Hey Y/N you wanna make a deal?”

You were now curious, “what type of deal?”

“I know you live in LA and I currently live here. I don’t want this to end. If the Phillies win tonight, this doesn’t end and we get to keep talking. Even though we live far away from each other.” Miles suggests.

“And what if the Dodgers win?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“That’s up to you then. But I have much faith in my team that they’re gonna win.” He smiles as the game starts.

Bottom of 9th Inning

It was the bottom of the 9th inning. You guys were both anxious for different reasons.

You were anxious because the Dodgers were winning 4 to 3. Since it was the bottom inning, the Phillies were batting because they were the home team. If someone from the Phillies magically got two runs that would mean Miles would win his bet.

Miles was very anxious too. The Phillies need two more runs and they would win. Except there were two outs and if one more batter got out it would be over.

This was a make-it-or-break-it moment. If this batter gets out it’s game over, but if he hits a run the Phillies still have a chance. As Julio Urías was pitching the last pitch to determine it the umpire declares it as an out.

THE DODGERS HAVE WON!!! All Dodger fans at the stadium we cheering with joy because they won. Miles however wasn’t.

He lost his bet with Y/N and that meant he might never see her again. “OMG MILES!!! WE WON!!! WE WON!!!”

“Congrats to guys I guess?” He says with a sad smile.

You can tell he was sad. He really thought his team was gonna win. “Hey don’t be so sad? Cheer up hot stuff.” You say with a little smile.

“Why would I cheer up. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to see you again.” As he says that you put your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately.

You pull away and ask with a smile, “Does that answer your question hot stuff?”

“That most definitely does sugar.” He kisses you again but this time it gets caught on the Phillies kiss cam.

And this was just the beginning of their relationship and their feud with the Dodgers and Phillies.

A/N: OMG THE FIRST CHAPTER! Hope y'all liked it.

Here's to be added to the taglist

Taglist:(crossed out means I couldn't tag you) @eternalsams @angiem219 @mizzysx @xlynnx07 @withakindheartx @lethalbeautiful @atarmychick007 @shanimallina87 @adoringsebstan @mak-32 @nograce-nomercy @brittancqs

#miles teller #miles teller x reader #dodgers #los angeles dodgers #philadelphia phillies #mlb national league #Phillies #baseball #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw

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softtdaisy · 2 years

Note

Congrats on the milestone! Can I request a 🌷 for TASM!Peter with the song “Someday” from the movie Zombies (literally haven’t watched the movie but am really obsessed with the song)

_someday

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

based on: someday from zombies

summary: Peter is scared to date you after you discovered he was Spiderman, but you're absolutely not scared at all by your superhero boyfriend

words: 718

a/n: Thank you!! That was super sweet to write, I got inspired with the music video too which explained the cheerleader part 😂 I hope you will love it 💛

join my secret garden for my 1k celebration 🌸

“Peter!” you screamed from the top of the pyramid you made with your cheerleading team.

You immediately heard some sighs and complaints from your friends. But you couldn’t care less when the man you were in love with was standing right there, on the bleachers. Peter has been missing for a few days, for a reason that only you knew. You were scared for him and for he might be doing, so seeing him again was a pure relief.

Even if, technically, you couldn’t go and see him right now. Could you?

“I’m sorry.” You repeat each time you were hitting a member of your team, trying to go to Peter. Of course, your coach was screaming for you to come back but you acted like you didn’t hear him. What could you risk? It was just a training. At worst, you wouldn’t be there for the next game.

Peter looked up when you started to come over him, surprised that you would stop one of your favorite activities to see him. Surprised, but relieved that you were still caring about him even after he took his distance from you. “You’re here.” You said, totally out of breath but with a huge smile on your face.

“I am.” He replied, looking down at his hands. He felt terrible. He had so much to say to you after what happened the other night. He took his time to think about the two of you and now that you were by his side, the only thing on his mind was his heartbeat being super loud.

You and Peter have been seeing each other for a few months now. A few nights here, a few kisses there. Nothing too serious, at least not until a few weeks ago when you both realized you were falling in love with each other. And it could have been great. Until you got caught during one of his missions. Not only you discovered he was Spiderman, but you almost go hurt because of him. And for Peter, it was enough to convince himself he was better off alone.

Which explained the whole disappearance and the lack of messages from the past days.

“Stop thinking with your big brain, Peter.” You said softly, taking his hand between your fingers. You started drawing circles on his palm and slowly, those circles became hearts. “I don’t see any bad things about this relationship personally.”

“How could you say that? You almost got hurt because you were with me!” he spoke too loudly. Some students turned their heads towards you with judgment and Peter apologized. You both got up to leave the bleachers and find a quieter space. You noticed how he kept your hand with his, a proof that he didn’t want to let you go either. You couldn’t help but smile at that thought. You could win this battle.

“If we think about it,” you started, closing the door of the only free working space you found. “I might get hurt, but I have a superhero boyfriend to save me.” You crossed one arm around your waist since he was still holding your hand. You probably looked ridiculous because there was no way your statement would have made Peter laughed like that.

He couldn’t resist hugging you there. He missed your touch when he was away, and he clearly needed it. Especially when he was fighting some stupid guys that thought they were stronger than him. “Look how cliché it sounds, you’re a pure sunshine and I’m more from the dark side.” You looked at him, frowning.

“I don’t care about what people might or might not say about us, Pete. I think this can work out and I’m gonna make sure it does.” You slowly brushed his cheek, and you loved the smile that came from that touch. You brought your face closer to his, almost speaking lips against lips. “All I see, is that we can be an extraordinary couple. And I love that idea, don’t you?”

Peter didn’t need to think a lot about this question. His heart was already answering for him. “I do.” He whispered before kissing you slowly, bringing one of his hands on your hair to keep you close. Being with you was worth every single risk in the world.

#peter parker #Peter Parker imagine #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker imagine #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield #my writing #1k celebration

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deathlandsxreaper · 2 years

Text

I can always see the moment when love dies.

It’s part of what I am.

That click which feels enormous and heavy and so goddamn silent; a one-sided decision that will bring one individual peace while the other is oblivious to what’s actually going on.

Then comes the cruelty.

My cruelty is sitting across from me, clearing his eyes from whatever my brother shot into his neck earlier.

It takes a full eight seconds of looking at our surroundings before his arctic gaze travels the length of my frame, drinking me in like poison.

The feeling is mutual for very different reasons.

Where he looks like he could kill you with one hit, his mind games are his real art.

And while I appear as lovely as a daisy, I can also tear this imposing man in two physically and mentally.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not even close.”

He narrows an eye on me, not appreciating the nonexistent bite to my words.

He always did prefer passion over comedy; mix in his favorite amount of angst and we have the walking poster child for a self-obsessed man with little time for anything more than a fuck doll.

“What is it now, Gracey?”

Red.

It’s painfully hot, burning tears behind smeared lashes. That name latches like an inescapable twitch in the base of my neck. A tunnel of breathing, heartbeat thump, thump, thumping, something drips down my fist.

I’m vaguely aware of him yelling, tensing thigh muscles around a blade that has crucified him through the steel chair. There’s an attempt to buck off the metal, cursing my name while he attempts to wrench free.

“You stupid FUCKING BITCH!” He screams without venom. Dragging breaths, broken and furious, yet all I can pay attention to is the steady drizzle of blood coursing from blade to floor.

Plip.. plip…

A yank, tugging free with a squirt that stains my wrist crimson. The knife clatters to the concrete, my gaze moving to the way his veins protrude in such a thick neck while he hurls insults at me.

“What did I ever do to you?” like I hadn’t just stabbed him. My voice is devoid of the same emotion he has; the shell cast over me slowly cracking to give way to a monster I keep locked away.

“Are you fucking– really?! I don’t owe you shit, Lena! You deserved it all, honestly, and don’t try to say you didn’t. Couldn’t even listen for one goddamn-”

My boot slams into his chest, cracking the sternum viciously. A grunt when he hits the wall opposite me, rolling eyes to fight off the concussion beginning to flood his consciousness.

Baby blues close, head tilted back with a deep inhale. Drowning darkness relaxing into my pores, settling at home in my bones. Fury oozes from within, sharp and scented with gunpowder. When my peripheral finally finds him, he’s ringed in the same blistering color as I saw when he used that fucking nickname.

Gracey..

A cool wash of air, the familiar handle of another blade I’ve sparingly used for the demise of humanity. This one is readily sharp and forged from Annihilation’s ambition. He winces away, struggling to keep his composure.

I am rarely the Reaper to anyone.

Until now.

“I could be kind and give you a merciful death, but where is my justice in that? When do I get your repentance for degrading and debasing me needlessly until I was broken down? Nothing was good enough. I can’t be silent anymore; I can’t let you fucking win! Not after everything.”

His hands jolt at the sing of my scythe ripping a hole from one realm to the next. I don’t even turn for the clatter of nails against the stone floor. My fingers twist in grisly fur, petting the creature absentmindedly.

“Eat.”

“What the h-”

He doesn’t get to finish his final thought, her hellish maw clamping and yanking his lower mandible free from his face. Blood rains onto his cheeks like tears, the hole where a handsome jaw used to be quivering in a nervous system memory of how much he liked to run his mouth.

I ignore the blood spatter sticking to my skin and hair, watching grimly as the bones and tendons are torn from this once strong man.

The sounds of a gory feast follow me until they’re a distant slurp; the door open with a dark figure at the opening, silently watching my handiwork.

I would know Death anywhere.

It must be a proud father moment I’ve read about in books.

The air outside is smothered by the scent of hot rain. It’s the thing that calms my senses back to technicolor; the rage I look so pretty in swallowed deep and caged for another day.

#Spotify

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thebluewritingbench · 3 years

Note

10) “Please, for the love of god, do not explain any of what I’m seeing.”

I feel like there could be a lot good comedic dialogue with this one.

I’ve enjoyed your Supercorp stories so far ❤️

thank you!! here have some more fluff: this is disgust #10 from these dialogue prompts

"Please, for the love of god, do not explain any of what I'm seeing."

“Your Monopoly set is cursed.”

Lena glares at the board, currently filled with houses and hotels, abandoned pieces still spaced around the edges. She’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch instead of sitting on it and looking disgruntled. Her nose is scrunched in disgust, and Kara kind of wants to reach over and boop it.

Instead, she leans back on her hands and grins at Lena. “I don’t think the fact that you lost means it’s cursed.”

Laughter rings out loudly from the kitchen, and Kara catches Nia’s cackle above the rest. It’s the tail end of game night, the point where the games are starting to be forgotten halfway through and abandoned in favour of fervent drunk rants and trips to the kitchen for more snacks. Right now, Kara can hear Nia trying to convince the others to climb out the fire escape and up to the roof.

It’s just her and Lena left in the living room now, and Kara’s had enough aldebaran rum and coke that everything is a little fuzzy around the edges.

Lena falls forwards slightly, like she’s tilting on her axis. She’s a lot floppier when she’s drunk. “I think that’s exactly what it means,” she says. “I always win Monopoly. I am the queen of Monopoly. I do not go bankrupt.”

“You did in this game,” Kara laughs, catching her hands. Lena beams at her, forgetting to be irritated for a moment before she quickly overcompensates with an expression that’s far too serious to be believable.

“Because it’s cursed,” she says.

“Because Alex beat you.”

Lena gasps. “Alex cursed Monopoly.”

“Alex did not curse Monopoly,” says Kara, swatting at her. Lena laughs and swats her back, so they’re hitting each other’s hands as she talks. “There were just a lot of us and you had bad luck this time.”

“Like I said, cursed!”

There’s the sound of a window opening and closing, and the chatter in the kitchen swells and fades slightly. Nia must have convinced everyone to go up to the roof. Kara cranes her neck to try and see if there’s anyone still left in the kitchen.

“Stupid Monopoly,” Lena mutters, mostly to herself. “Fuck Monopoly.” And just as Kara’s turning back to look at her, she reaches out and hits the board off the table, sending cards and plastic pieces flying.

“Lena!” says Kara.

Lena does not have the grace to look abashed. In fact, she looks quite pleased with herself, like a cat who just knocked something over.

“You can’t just knock over the Monopoly,” says Kara, scraping up handfuls of little plastic houses and hotels from the carpet. “What if we wanted to keep playing?”

“Oh, pfft,” says Lena, unbothered, flipping dark hair away from her face. “Everyone’s too drunk to play now anyways. We weren’t going to keep playing.”

“You don’t know that.” Kara plucks a Monopoly house from her palm and throws it at Lena. It bounces off her forehead, and Lena’s jaw drops in a comical exaggeration of betrayal.

“Did you just throw a hotel at me?”

“It was a house, actually,” says Kara, picking another one to throw. This one bounces off Lena’s cheekbone. “That was a hotel.”

“You did not just do that.” Lena leans across the table and snatches a stack of Monopoly money, then launches it in Kara’s direction. It flutters down over the table and carpet. A bill brushes Kara’s ear. One lands on Lena’s head.

“That’s paper, it’s not going to do anything.”

“Don’t test me,” says Lena, scrambling out from behind the coffee table and grabbing the rest of the stack of money. She flicks it off her hand, a few bills at a time, sending a rain of multicoloured money over Kara and scattering the once tidy piles across the floor. The bills slide under the couch and TV. Kara chokes out stop between her laughter, still tossing tiny houses and game pieces at Lena.

There’s a bowl of gummy bears on the table, and when Kara runs out of Monopoly pieces, she reaches for a handful of those and starts throwing them at Lena instead. Lena’s moved on to throwing the cards at her, and it’s really going to be a bitch to pick it all up tomorrow, but Kara’s laughing too hard to care. Lena’s cackling, and she stumbles to the side and crashes into the coffee table, knocking over the remaining Jenga tower as she goes down. It only makes them both laugh harder.

Popcorn. The bowl of popcorn on the couch still hasn’t been knocked over, so Kara grabs a fistful of that and throws it. It’s better than the gummy bears, it sticks in Lena’s hair and falls down her blouse.

Having finally exhausted the contents of Monopoly, Lena reaches for her own handfuls of popcorn and gummy bears. “Take that,” she says, alternating between throwing the two snacks at Kara. “And that.” A gummy bear lands in Kara’s mouth. A piece of popcorn hits her eye.

Hiccupping back her laughter, Kara reaches blindly across the table for her drink, and without really thinking about it, flicks her wrist and tosses the entire contents directly at Lena’s face.

Everything freezes. Lena looks stunned, blinking rum and coke from her eyes. Amber liquid drips from her chin, her hair.

Kara, eyes wide, only manages, “Oh my god, Lena, I am so—” before Lena’s vodka soda is hitting her in the face. She gasps, inhaling a mouthful down her windpipe. Lena looks far too smug when she finally manages to stop coughing, and some instinct in Kara must take over because she lunges forwards and tackles Lena to the carpet.

Lena shrieks and laughs and squirms, and Kara pins both her hands above her head with one hand, sitting on her knees to straddle Lena’s waist. Instinct still driving her, she leans forwards and licks a wet strip up Lena’s cheek.

When she sits back again, Lena has stopped squirming and is staring up at her, utterly bemused. “Did you just lick me?”

“You’re covered in aldebaran rum and coke,” Kara grins. “Wouldn’t want it to go to waste. It’s expensive stuff, Lena.”

“Oh, so you’re trying to drink me.”

Kara shrugs. “Drink, eat, whatever.”

She’s basically sitting over Lena’s middle, which means she feels the way Lena’s stomach jerks slightly against her pelvis in a sharp inhale. Feels the way Lena tenses, like every muscle in her body has gone taut. Lena swallows, licks her lips nervously, which of course brings Kara’s full attention to her mouth.

Her lips are so pink, and so pretty and plush, and she suddenly looks so kissable it’s unbearable. It feels like Kara has to kiss her, like it’s a physical compulsion. She takes Lena’s chin in her free hand, squishing her cheeks slightly as Lena stares at her, and whispers, “Wait, wait, wait.”

Then, very gently, softly, quickly, she presses her lips to Lena’s.

Lena blinks at her, eyelashes fluttering, when she pulls away. There’s a long silence where she searches Kara’s eyes before she says, voice low, “Again?”

Kara leans forwards and presses a second experimental kiss to Lena’s lips. She lingers a moment longer than the first one, then pulls back an inch, still holding Lena’s hands fast above her head.

“Yes?” she whispers.

Lena nods, like she can’t quite remember how to speak. Then she says, “More.”

When Kara kisses her for a third time, her lips are already parted slightly, and they slot easily between Kara’s.

They’re so soft.

She tastes like vodka soda and gummy bears, and it’s almost more than Kara’s drunk brain can process at once; Lena’s warm body pressed to hers, her slim wrists in Kara’s hand, the softness of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the slick brush of her tongue. She loses herself in it, forgets time, forgets how they got here, forgets everything but Lena.

It’s finally quiet after all their shrieking and laugher, just the sound of their lips melding together. Kara’s not sure how long they’ve been kissing—perhaps a minute, perhaps a lifetime—when someone clears their throat loudly, like they’ve already done it once or twice.

Kara breaks away, and Lena makes a small protesting sound in the back of her throat, a tiny whimper. They both look over Kara’s shoulder at Alex, who’s standing in the doorway looking faintly queasy.

Kara watches her take in the scene: Lena lying on the ground with Kara straddling her waist and pinning her hands above her head, the pile of Monopoly money and pieces that they’re lying in, the gummy bears and popcorn scattered across the floor and in their hair, the drinks that are still dripping from both their furtive, swollen-lipped faces.

Alex opens her mouth, and then presses it closed again.

“You know what,” she says, after a long moment. “I don’t think I want to know. Please, for the love of god, just… do not explain any of what I’m seeing right now.”

Without another word, she turns on her heel and disappears back into the kitchen.

Kara and Lena turn back to each other, still pressed together on the floor, breath uneven. Lena’s flushed, eyes dark, lips parted. She really does look good enough to eat. Her wrists twitch under Kara’s hand.

They stare at each other. Several long seconds tick by. Then, simultaneously, they start laughing.

It’s a long time before they stop.

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #supergirl fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #i posted some awful angst earlier this week so here's some fluff #alex is perpetually being tortured by the 'gal pals' act her sister and lena have going on and so it shall always be #fellas is it gay to pin your bestie to the floor and make out with her #prompts #asks #anon #bluewritingbench writes #bluewritingbench ficlets

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

An accidental flash - Barry Allen x Wayne!reader

Masterlist link

Word count - 1749

Summary; interruption is often than not present in the life of justice, this time Barry Allen is involved

Warnings; nudity, fluff, awkwardness, erection, making out, swearing, brief mention of the talk, mention of murder and prison

The mission had been long and gruelling, and you were just happy that it was over. Being a member of the justice league was hard all on its own, throw being the daughter of Bruce Wayne into the mix, it was understandably a nightmare at times. Sweat riddled your body as though you were the ploy of a river, drowning in your own body’s function as you ripped off your mask and tossed it carelessly onto your bedroom floor; next, your target was the zipper at the front of your suit, luckily your father had fixed it, in the past it had a tendency to get stuck.

Though maybe it’d have been better if it were to have upheld you for a few minutes as you struggled to descend the line of metal teeth downwards, that way you’d have been covered whence an intruder whisked into your room. Everything usually ran slow for him, however this time appeared different, for he showed up just when your suit hit the ground, leaving you half naked, in nothing more than your panties. It took you a moment to even realise that he were there, at your doorway, mouth agape as he took in your exposed beauty.

His heart was practically fluttering out of his chest as he saw you in all your glory, even if it were from the back, and you were sufficiently oblivious to his wondering eyes. Your father would kill him if he ever knew that he were getting this kind of a view of his daughter, but he had yet to panic at that prospect, he was more so focused on how the wading of your spine rippled and the tiresome joints of your shoulders rolled as you stretched your back. Without much of a thought you turned around, with the mental security of the door to your room being closed.

But no longer was it as your eyes widened, and your hands scurried to cover your bare breasts; Barry too realised that his ogling had been a mistake, he knew it was wrong from the get go, but he was so fastened with the concept of being hypnotised by your oblivious magnificence that he’d hardly registered how definitely rude his wordless actions had been. “Oh- I, um- I’m sorry.” The boy stuttered, a flush ravishing his cheeks from being caught shamelessly peeping as he turned around, blocking your entrancing body from his eyes.

“I-it’s, it’s okay Barry.” You confided in him, as you desperately searched for a tee. This base was so new that you’d hardly had the time to move in, a shower sounded absolute, however you were going to need some clothes to change into afterwards. “Do you think you could get me a robe or something please, if it’s not too much?” Barry considered the or something portion of your enquiry as he removed his infamous red hoodie, turning towards you before realising his mistake once more.

“Sure.” He grimaced from his exact mistake again, trying not to begin too drool at the sight of you, moonwalking to reach you and handing you the hoodie, however he tripped over your suit, leaving him in despair on the ground, and you whom had also fallen atop of him. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he could have avoided the awkward scenario that had stumbled the two of you into the current position that you were clambered in. Barry gulped, feeling your breasts pressed straight against his chest, he could feel a masking of nervousness creeping over his neck, as his breath fanned over your upper lip.

“Hi.” He spoke softly, his eyes locked on your own. Doing so concealed his nervousness, and it showed that he had no intent to look elsewhere on your body. A smile sprung onto your lips as you felt the constant pounding in the speedster’s chest, it ravaged against your body as it pulmonary beat through the cage of his ribs, sending unintentional shock waves through your body. You licked your lips, a light furrow distorting your brows as you quirked yourself head at his words, eyes also engaged with frolicking in the visual of his own.

“Hi.” Was your repeat. It was strange to be so close to Barry, especially in this sense, but you weren’t entirely complaining. It was unknown how you were supposed to revel out of this position without him seeing you clad in nothing more than your underwear, a part of you was frustrated that you’d have to. And then you felt it, a solid notion against your leg, spurring from his jeans, and resting against your covered mound. “Please tell me that is your phone.”

An awkward smile, with stretched lips and shown teeth justified the truth; it indeed was no device. He had gotten hard from the accidental predicament that the pair of you had quite literally tumbled into. “Sorry.” He mumbled, about to look down, but remembering that was not such a good idea. “I can’t help it- you’re so beautiful in and out of clothes, and like, it’s my body, that has yours against it, if you get me?” He rambled, making you shake your head at him, and laugh lightly, causing him to freeze.

“Okay.” You replied, hardly believing that you were about to do such an act, as you learn down and pecked his lips. His entire body, and you meant entire, went rigid, lulling in the brief moment that your lips were against your own, a dazed and dopey expression contorting his face. “You good Allen?” You enquired with a pat to his chest, as he licked his lips, reminiscing in the taste of your own. He dumbly nodded, though he intently pulled you back down for another, elongated encore of the action.

The pair of you were enduring a passion, more innocent as it seemed, making you oblivious to the footsteps that gained closeness every moment that you spent revelled in one another. Perhaps no one would have known that you and Barry were entangled like so if your door were closed, but it was not, leaving a sufficient glance for any passers by. When Victor walked passed, he gave you a small applause, and a light catcall, making your head jolt up, only for Barry to pull it back down.

Arthur smirked and shook his head; kids. He said nothing and stoically traipsed past, whilst Dianna recalled that she ought to direct a motive talk to the pair of you later on. Those two were away from your senses. Barry’s hands found refuge on your back, pinning you closer against him as he felt you slither your tongue against his lips, and he was certainly more than happy to allow you entry into the warm and wet cavern of his mouth. He groaned when you tugged delightedly upon his dark locks, feeling how your tongue swirled around in his mouth, fighting and winning dominance in the realm.

It was quite the conjuncture to be caught in, more so by the billionaire in Gotham, the Batman. As soon as Bruce saw you, his daughter, and the young man that he recruited for the team attached in such ways that he did not appreciate, he called out your name, making you shiver against your team member as you looked up, terrified of the fact that he had seen you like this, with Barry! Really, you should have expected nothing more, or at least have shut the door, but you had been too occupied.

Bruce cleared his throat as a blush blossomed over Barry’s skin, he was internally terrified. If you weren’t atop of him, he’d have definitely sped away, saving his skin from the hell that he’d endure from your father. You expected your parent to shout, to scold you, to threaten the life of the man beneath you, but instead he diverted his eyes, and raised his brows, as he thought of the talk that he’d have to have with the pair of you later on. “The two of you missed the meeting, now I see why.”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Bolted from your mouth, but the only response that you earned from your father was him shutting the door, to everyone’s relief. “Fuck.” You groaned, dropping your head upon Barry’s chest. It was embarrassing, sure you were no longer some teenager that needed to be checked on every five minutes, or directed down a narrow path, but it was nerve wrecking all the same. You’d never wanted your father to see you like that, and if he had reprimanded you, that’d have been highly hypocritical all the same.

“He didn’t kill me.” Relief embezzled Barry as he heaved a heavy sigh, dropping his head back onto the carpet. “I mean if he did, then both our fathers would be in prison.” He spoke with a shrug, and you placed a sweet peck onto his jaw, causing a smile to reprimand presence onto his handsome and well structured face.

“Eh.” You shrugged considerably, Barry raising his brows at your reaction, that had yet to be finished. “He’d have someone cover it up, and he’d still be a free man. Money can do quite a lot. For all we know, he’s plotting on taking you out when you least expect it.” You reasoned, making his hands pause their stroking on your back.

“I must insist on another kiss before that happens then.” He puckered his lips, but rather than receiving a diligent peck opposed onto the surface of them, your forefinger pressed down on them, halting his hopes for a continuation.

“Take me on a date Allen.” You winked at him as you stood, no longer covering up from his gaze as you grasped his hoodie, and retreated into the attached bathroom. You were certainly something else, and if Bruce were to kill him in some way, he was sure it’d be worth it. When he was with you, he liked to endure everything slowly, and appreciate every notion in progress that you made, whether it be a true smile or a blunt roll of your eyes.

The sound of the stream from the shower turning on alerted his ears that you were now cleansing yourself, he too thought that sounded like a good idea, and thus he vacated to his own room and did so, singing lightly in the shower as he thought of where he could take you for a first date.

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orieriee · 2 years

Text

Writing Random Scenarios Based On a Prompt Generator! (pt. 2)

Author's note: A mini series for some of my fave one piece men just before the new year! Hope you enjoy! This is Law's and Kid's :D

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, curse words and in Kid's, grammar errors because english isn't my first language and I haven't write in a long time

Gender neutral reader! The prompt generator can be found here

(pt. 1 here ft. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy)

my masterlist

For LAW: [I'll let you guess the prompt first]

"Law, you've been working too much. Come on, it's time for bed." You approached your overworking husband by his table and massaged his stiff shoulders. He's been working all night long finishing the rest of his paperwork. It can't be helped that he has many work to do since he's the top surgeon of the city after all.

Being a doctor is no easy task. Being a surgeon is more harder. And being the spouse of a doctor/surgeon is also hard because that means you have to take care of your overworking husband, who won't rest until all his work is finished. That being said, he is one of a workaholic himself anyway.

"I still have work to do. You can go to bed first." Law didn't even lift up his gaze from the stack of papers he cleaned up as he took another stack to work on. Having a workaholic husband sure is concerning sometimes.

"My love, it's 1 AM. I get lonely a lot before I go to bed because you're not always home. And when you do get home, it's usually when I'm already asleep." You bring your arms forward to hug him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "You also have work tomorrow. Save up your energy for tomorrow, your eyebags are also getting worse. Let's go to bed together ok?"

After a long persuasion and your warm hug, he finally put down his pen and sighed. He always melt under your embrace and your care. You always know when he pushes himself too much and needed a break but could never before all work is done. That's what he really appreciates from you, being able to make him take a break and free him from his pile of stress and to be able to give him the comfort to do so.

"Alright. You win." Law may say that as if he has no other choice but to 'obey' you but his smirk and his soft tone said otherwise.

The nights when he usually can't fall asleep is no longer with you beside him. Your presence calm the storm inside him and allows him to sleep soundly in peaceful nights. He's too tired to even stay awake in your embrace as you shared your warmth to him through the night.

"Good night Law, sweet dreams." you whispered as you kissed his forehead, drifting off to sleep for the next day.

The sound of the ruffling curtains being pulled is enough to wake up Law before being hit by sunlight through the window.

"Sadly you have to go to work again this early morning. Come on, I've prepared breakfast." You gave him a peck of morning kiss as he sat up from the bed.

It has been a long time since he could sleep that well. It's usually him who wakes up earlier than you to get to work and stuff. He could say he overslept on a day like this but he feels refreshed than ever after a good night sleep. See, you never fail to bring him the comfort he needed.

And when it's time to head off to work, Law let you make him a bento to bring in for lunch later. He may be a busy man, but he'll never forget to say thank you for the food. Yeah, he should give you a thanks after the comfort refreshment you gave him.

"Have you forgotten something?" you asked as you looked at him, waiting for him to notice something.

This is the part where he says or rather, expresses his gratitude towards you. He leaned in to your height and closed his eyes for a second before pulling away and dusting off his coat before going off to work.

"Oh, uh… Thanks…" you didn't expect him to kiss you all of the sudden. He's the type that rarely gives this kind of affection so it's always a pleasant surprise that makes you go all red.

"But what I meant is this…" you showed something on your hand and it's his bento you made him earlier that he forgot to take with him.

For EUSTASS KID: [below the cut!]

I'm doing something different with Kid and the prompt is....

Y/N-Kid is a couple in a youtube channel with over a million subscribers that people known as the chaotic duo that looks high but it's just themselves vibing and being chaotic together. [major modern reference]

Y/N : Ok, the camera's on now... Hey ho!!! It's Y/N here!! And I'm here with-

*pans camera to Kid who is sitting in front of a mirror, applying lipstick*

Kid : Hey! Don't show my face yet! My eyeliner's not done yet. *panicking*

Y/N : My boyfriend Eustass Kid!

Kid : HEYY I SAID STOP!!!

(Video got cut off because Kid messed with your camera. The scene cuts to you entering Kid's car.)

Y/N : Ok, so we're doing our daily vlog. Where are we going today?

Kid : TO THE STARB*CKS YEAHHHH *🤟🤟Giving me the punk rocker vibes*

Y/N : YEAHHHHH!!! WE'RE GOING TO GET SOME COFFEEEEE *adrenaline for caffeine*

Kid : YEAHHH WE GOIN' TO GET SOME LIQUOR BABYYY

Y/N : WE'RE GOING TO GET SOME- (puts down the camera angle) wait no, we don't drink liquor, this is a family friendly, content, cut the cameras-

(Scene cuts to Kid ordering his Starbucks order)

Operator : So [your drink of choice] and then a grande with trenti iced coffee, 12 pumps of sugar-free vanilla, 12 pumps of sugar-free hazelnut, 12 pumps of sugar-free]caramel, 5 pumps skinny mocha, a splash of soy, and ice. Is that all? *out of breath but keeping the job professional, struggling to be ok*

Kid : Yeah, and the coffee is to the star on the siren's head, ya hear me?

Operator : *visible sweating* alright, is that all, sir?

Kid : *turns to you* baby, do you want anything else?

Y/N : Nu uh, I'm fine with my own drink, thanks. *looks at him weird, sympathizes the operator for rapping the order*

Kid : alright, that's all.

Y/N : why is your order so long this time??? *utterly confused*

Kid : I like to see them suffer *evil laugh*

Y/N : Ugh you're a devil.

Kid : You mean a hot one?

Y/N : Not as hot as Loki but OK

Kid : Loki isn't a devil, Y/N. He's a god. I thought you were a Marvel fan?

Y/N : I am. But I like spiderman more.

Kid : Spiderman is a part of Marvel, Y/N. Gosh.

(Camera cuts to them drinking starback before Kid drived off.)

Y/N : Well, now we're stuck in a traffic jam. And a lot of fans have been asking us questions on instagram so I thought we might answer some of them.

Kid : Don't pick a dumb question, that's no fun.

Y/N : Kid, if you have teeth coming out your 4nus, would you go see a dentist or a surgeon?

Kid : what kind of question is that?? I'd say the dentist.

Y/N : But(t) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) wouldn't you have to stick up your butt to the dentist?

Kid : ugh, I hate your pun. Well I mean I think so but dentists spealize in teeth so going to the dentist is reasonable.

Y/N : True dat. Ok, moving on. Are you guys dating?

Kid : HAH…. * letting out a big sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose* *whispering* why do you pick this dumb question out of all?

Y/N : I want to hear it from you, come on. *mischievous smirk*

Kid : Well, sorry for crushing your assumption, kid ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) but Y/N and I aren't dating. Y/N is actually my mom's… Grandma's second cousin's… First cousin. If you get it yeah.

Y/N : PPFFFTTT QUIT JOKING *bursts off laughing*

KID : YOU'RE JOKING WITH THAT QUESTION SO I'M JUST DOING THE SAME

Y/N : NO I'M NOT *shitting tears of joy* A person legit asked that. See?

*Y/N showed Kid the question*

Kid : Oh wait, fr. Well, yeah, no shit sherlock. We're dating YEAAAAA

Y/N : No, he's my ex-boyfriend actually.

Kid : Eyyy so we playing this game huh?

Y/N : No, I'm serious. *suddenly dead serious expression*

Kid: Babe? W-what? No, you're joking. Come one now~ *his heart dropped a bit there but he won't admit it out loud*

Y/N : No, I'm not joking. *pulling out something from their pocket* Will you be my spouse instead?

Kid: *turns into that universe/milky way meme and the math lady meme*

Y/N : Kid?? Babe??? You gotta say something.

Kid : y-yes?

Y/N : HE SAID YES PEOPLE! WE'RE NOT DATING, WE'RE GETTING MARRIED.

201 notes · View notes

piecksz · 3 years

Text

dirty little secret | (m)

pairings: jock!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, dub con, cheating, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, saliva, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, sneaky sex, explicit language

words: 3.2k+

summary: eren’s unsatisfied in his relationship with his girlfriend, so he looks to you for sexual gratification.

a/n: all the characters in this story are adults! it was originally meant to be a college au but the whole “fire drill” detail doesn’t really make sense in a college setting since fire drills are typically held in dorms, so as per usual 18+ minors dni.

Your legs moved quickly against the polished tile of the hallway while you sped up to meet with your class who had already been far ahead of you, disappearing into the throng of people filing outside at the blaring signal of the fire alarm.

You’d excused yourself during your lesson to use the bathroom, unaware that an unplanned drill had been scheduled for that day, so with haste you finished up and rushed to rendezvous with the rest of your classmates before you were left inside the building.

As you rounded the corner, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your forearm, forcibly pulling you behind the small door that stood at the end of the corridor.

Instinctively, your hands balled into fists, and you threw them blindly in the direction of your assailant. You hoped that you’d at least land one successful hit, and it would give you enough time to break out of their hold and flee.

“Y/N, relax! It’s just me!”

Your hysterical flailing ceased, and you opened your eyes hesitantly at the sound of your attacker’s familiar voice. “Eren?”

Frantic pupils fell upon a pair of mischievous jade eyes, and your terror-stricken expression contorted into an angry scowl as you drove the palms of your hands into his chest, sending him careening back into the metal shelf behind him. “You asshole! What is wrong with you?”

Eren’s quick reflexes allowed him to catch himself and the rack before both were sent tumbling to the floor. “Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing away the soreness spreading over the skin of his arm from your knuckles’ potent impact. “You’ve got a brutal left hook.”

“Yeah? You wanna see my right one?” Your right hand tightened as if you were projecting another throw, but Eren’s outstretched arm maintained a safe amount of space between you two. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Eren’s tightly-wound eyebrows began to arch as his distressed face eased into a buoyant grin. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

You blinked. “Were you the one that pulled the fire alarm?”

“No, I didn’t pull the fucking fire alarm,” he replied sourly, evidently offended that you’d suggest he’d do something so juvenile. “I just got lucky.”

Your curled lip relaxed, and your irritation waned into a resigned stare. You desperately wanted to trust Eren’s saccharine words, and it didn’t take much effort to believe him while you were faced with his stupidly winsome expression. His smile was warm, eyes glossing over with adoration like he was truly expressing what he felt, and it wasn’t just empty flattery, yet you’d been more perceptive than to just take his intentions for what they were. Rather, you’d been smart enough to learn from last time.

He’d said something along the same lines, after you two had hooked up in his car after his lacrosse game. He was feeling mirthful after winning and wanted to celebrate with you, but on the cusp of his orgasm, he’d let the “love” phrase slip, and when you’d asked him about it afterward, Eren mulled over it for a second before nodding, admitting that he had feelings for you.

His confession had been somewhat of a relief, and you’d expected him to end things with his girlfriend shortly after he’d realized what he really wanted, but the following day in the courtyard, you were stunned to see Eren sitting with her and the rest of his friends, showering her with kisses like nothing had taken place the night before.

You swore you’d learned your lesson.

“Are these new? Can I see them?” Eren’s fingers gently wrapped around the frame of your glasses, pulling them from your face, and he slid them onto his ears, adjusting their position on his nose. “How do I look?”

“I can’t see, Eren,” you answered simply.

Eren laughed bashfully. “Right, I think they look better on you instead.” He slid your glasses off and tucked them back behind your ears.

Your lenses restored your lucid vision, and now that you could properly see, you noticed the way Eren’s lips were parted, lids low and languid as his face lingered only inches from yours. He’d used your glasses as leverage to get closer to you, a crafty technique, and now that he was close enough, he could whisper.

“You know what else looks better on you?” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards into his cheek, and he closed the space between you two, fixing his lips onto yours while his thumb and index finger supported the curve of your chin. His kiss was slow, mouth undulating with the most tender of movements, and when he carefully slid his tongue between your teeth you could taste the vague chill of spearmint on his breath. He proceeded timidly, as though he was touching you for the first time, but that was the very detail of your couplings that always had you running back. He handled you like he cared.

The tip of Eren’s nose skimmed against yours, ever so slightly, while he continued prompting his tongue further into the depths of your mouth, eager to have you savor his desire.

Your body was traitorous and unmoving, allowing Eren to command you with his lips, and for a few blissful minutes, you forgot the two of you were crammed into the unyielding space of a storage room.

Eren withdrew from your mouth, and tilted his head to the side so he could occupy the empty curve of your neck, and once you felt him press mild kisses to the hollow of your throat, you freed a displeased sigh and sent him backwards with an assertive push.

“Seriously? In the supply closet?”

“We’ve got like fifteen minutes before everyone comes back.” He reassured you, shrugging dismissively before tipping his head in for another kiss.

You shifted backward, studying Eren as he continued to lean in until his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wondering why he wasn’t receiving any contact, his eyes flitted open.

“You still haven’t broken up with her have you?” You pressed your lips into an unamused line.

Your question had Eren angling until he was standing upright, and then he rolled his head back and released a groan as though already tired from your question. “Y/N, come on. I don’t feel like having this conversation.”

“Have you?” you probed.

“No, I haven’t. It’s not that easy.”

“It really is.”

Eren drew his eyebrows up, now in regret. “We’ve been together since freshman year. Do you know how big of a douchebag it makes me look if I break up with her two months before graduation?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you know how big of a douchebag you look fucking me behind her back?”

Eren’s eyes drifted to the side.

“Or are you just embarrassed to be seen with me?” you questioned, canting your body into his view.

“Okay, you sound ridiculous,” Eren laughed dryly.

“Because I’m not a cheerleader or an athlete, and I have about one other friend. You don’t want everyone to know you’re fucking the girl that spends lunch in the library.”

“What kind of cliche movie do you think we’re in right now?”

“It’s just something I’d expect from someone who peaked in high school.” Your words were sharp on the tip of your tongue, and you could tell by the way Eren recoiled that your statement managed to penetrate his seemingly careless guise.

“I’ll handle it okay?” Eren’s hand slid over the back of his neck, looking blameworthy of all the faults you’d accused him of. “But right now I really need help handling something else.”

Your eyes narrowed in his direction after realizing he’d managed to do it again, forcing you into forgiveness with his charming abashed impression. He’d taken advantage of how spineless you were when it came to matters concerning him.

“Please?” he urged.

It was his thick brown brows that were creased in the middle and opalescent green eyes that stared you down that made him look so sincere. He was easily one of the most spellbinding people you’d ever met, attractive and likable, he knew exactly what cards to play to get his way, and even though you were aware of it, you always found yourself wrapped around his finger. A pretty face and a sweet tongue was a recipe written up by the devil himself.

You lowered yourself onto your knees, leveled with Eren’s hands working swiftly against the buttons of his slacks. “I’m done doing this, Yeager,” you announced wryly.

“I know,” Eren said, as though guaranteeing you it would be the last time.

He pushed his pants down along with his briefs in one swift motion, freeing his cock from the tight cotton confines of his underwear. His length was already rigid, the sticky beads of precum leaking out of his swollen head the result of your stalling. He’d already provoked himself by thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you, you didn’t have to do anything more to get him hard.

A relieved exhale left Eren’s lips once he grabbed the base of his cock in the sweaty heat of his palm, tapping his wet tip against your bottom lip, then he pulled the hem of his shirt up slightly, allowing you enough clearance to take him into your mouth.

You wrapped a ginger hand around his length, feeling the way his warmth throbbed in your fingers, and you leaned in, using your tongue to lap along the rim of his cock.

“Fuck—” Eren’s voice was husky as it ripped through the depths of his throat. He watched you with heavy lids, observing the way your tongue’s tip danced around his swollen head, giving coy licks to his slit, and the way his cock twitched with need at the slightest provocation. “Jesus Christ—”

You gave him a few generous pumps before taking him whole, humming at the way his girth felt against the inside of your cheeks. The skin of his length ran like hot silk over your tongue as you fell into a natural rhythm, and your lips and hand rocked back and forth against him.

Eren’s face broke out into a dirty grin. “You’re such a little slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

You glared up at him over the edge of your glasses.

“Sorry,” he responded meekly, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that fell loosely against his forehead.

You continued working against him, excited by the honeyed melody of his moans every time your fingertips ran over the sensitive skin of his balls. Eren’s cock pulsated against the surface of your tongue with each small ministration, and you watched the muscles across his abdomen tense.

“I know you hate me,” he started. “But you have no idea how hot you look on your knees right now. Keep glaring at me like that, and I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

The mention of Eren’s warning had a torrent of heat surging between your legs, and you fought off the urge to dip your fingers beneath your skirt and begin rubbing away your discomfort. You didn’t want him to know you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.

Your heavy yet stifled breathing caused your glasses to fog lightly, so you sat back on your knees, withdrawing your mouth from him briefly to catch your breath. You lifted a thumb to wipe away at the saliva that dribbled down your chin, but Eren’s fast fingers stopped you, holding your wrist away from your face.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “You look pretty like that.”

You ran the back of your hand across your cheeks, as though you were trying to rub off the furious heat that crept across your skin and over your nose. “Shut up.”

Eren only responded with an amused smile.

Then when you brought him back to your lips for the last time, his hands settled on the crown of your head, and he pushed his cock back in until his tip relentlessly prodded the back of your throat. Holding your head in place, he began jerking his hips, fucking your mouth at an agonizingly slow pace that had heavy tears cascading down your cheeks.

Every time his cock slowly and deliberately pressed against the back of your throat, you gagged involuntarily, fingertips digging into the side of his thighs.

“Feel how hard I am?” Eren asked. “You did that.” He rocked his pelvis forward again, muffling your whines.

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck your pretty little face, don’t you?” He thrusted himself between your jaws, throwing his head back and liberating a series of foul swears. “I really need to feel you.”

With the declaration of his wish, he pulled his cock out of your mouth, inhaling sharply at the obscene sight of his length coated and dripping with your spit.

After your dry heaving subsided, Eren helped you up with a gentle hand, running his palm between your shoulder blades to soothe your coughing. He made sure you were steady before cuing you to turn so that your back was facing him, then he watched as your shaky hands slid underneath your skirt and fingers hooked around the fabric of your underwear.

“Pull out this time, Eren. I mean it,” you rasped, cautioning him ahead of time. You stepped out of your underwear and used the toe of your shoe to cast it aside.

Eren’s hands reached under your hem, large palms gliding over the curve of your ass. “The odds of you getting pregnant are like one in what?” He flipped up your skirt and continued teasing the skin of your backside. “Plus I always cover you for the pill, don’t I?”

“I don’t care, cum in me and you’re dead.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the metal shelf, and you slid your arm around Eren’s shoulder while he placed one hand on your waist for support and curved the other under your thigh. Then, he brought your knee up to his chest until all of your weight was allocated onto one leg.

Eren held his cock with his fingertips and slid himself between your folds from behind. You let out a soft, unanticipated whimper, but quickly brought your teeth down on the flesh of your tongue to smother any more sounds of pleasure. You didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder at Eren’s satisfied smirk, you could tell by the way his hand squeezed your thigh that he had noticed it.

Eren positioned himself at your entrance, skimming his wet tip over your hole before sliding himself inside you. His cock slipped in with ease, your saliva acting as a crude lubricant.

“Oh fuck—” His breath was hot over the span of your neck.

“Eren—” you sighed, forgetting all your pretenses. You closed your eyes, enjoying the way he stretched you out, and then he started moving causing a pattern of shallow cries and moans to fall from your lips.

“Fuck Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy,” Eren groaned, thrusting up into you, slowly and rhyhmically, steadily filling you to the hilt every time, while his hand traveled beneath your ribcage to cup your breast over the crisp fabric of your uniform. “She doesn’t take me as well as you do.”

You shook your head, making weak sounds of protest between delicate whines. “I don’t wanna hear that, Eren—”

“But it’s true.” Eren moved quickly between your legs, hissing every time your slick walls tightened around his aching cock. With each punctuated thrust, you continued to lose yourself, until your need unfurled and Eren had you under siege. His methodical pace sent you into a flurry of moans, and you cried his name over and over.

His even strokes began to stagger, and his breathing became rapid and shallow, chaotic pants of hot air rolling out over the span of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum—” He continued pounding into you, faster now, harder, keen on drawing out his orgasm, and then Eren gave one last thrust, so deep it had you shutting your eyes and pursing your lips to keep from screaming. Then he shuddered, his body convulsing with the bout of his orgasm, and you felt him release inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy with every twitch of his cock.

“Y/N—” he moaned, resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder while he continued to jettison every drop of his release until he was sure he was empty.

Your hands tightened around his shoulder, as the ripple from Eren’s climax had your cunt tightening around his length, and ecstasy spread over the span of your pelvis and down your thighs. Once he grew limp, he slipped himself out of you, and you felt a slow stream of his cum run down the inside of your thigh.

“I said not to cum in me you fucking idiot.” Your legs were sweaty, making it easier for you to twist yourself out of Eren’s hold until you were now standing upright, both legs planted unsteadily on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” Eren wrapped his arms around you apologetically, but you shrugged him off, using your elbow to drive him back.

Your eyes scanned the closet with haste, looking for tissue paper you could steal to clean up the mess between your thighs, and Eren must have sensed your aim because he made use of his height, seizing a large roll from the top shelf and unwrapping it before handing it to you.

You grabbed it out of his hands, waiving a statement of gratitude, and ripped away a few plies, crumpling them up into a generous wad. “You owe me eighty dollars.”

Eren’s eyebrows lifted and his face twisted into an incredulous expression while he stuffed himself back into his pants and buttoned them up. “Are you running a prostitution ring?”

“I’m serious. Fifty for the pill and thirty just for dealing with you.” You straightened out your uniform, and watched as Eren did the same, tugging on his collar to smooth out the creases.

“You’re a mean little bitch,” he jeered with a slight playful undertone, and then he looked off to the side in concentration. He turned around, pressing his ear to the door of the supply closet, and then he looked back at you. “I think they’re coming back.”

You hummed.

“I’ll walk out first.”

“Right,” you said unenthusiastically, recalling that no matter how many praises he lavished you with in private, in public you were still his dirty little secret. He vowed to you that he would end his current relationship because it was clear you were growing tired of being his toy, good enough for him to fuck but undeserving of anything else. And after all was said and done, when you two passed each other in the halls, he’d still glance at you with the cordiality of a stranger.

Eren had promised to handle it, yet it was obvious he had no intentions to, and you knew that while you watched him give you a fond smile before slipping out of the supply closet.

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x reader smut #aot au #eren au #attack on titan au

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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book-of-baba-fett · 3 years

Text

A Lucky Hand - Fives x Fem!Reader

Crossposted on A03

Fives finds himself running low on credits during a game of pazaak with his favorite mechanic, but a risky wager on his end might end up benefitting both of you.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Oral Sex (f/m receiving). Drinking, PiV intercourse, (let me know if I miss anything!)

***

“And I win another round! Come on Fives, at this rate you should just hand me all your credits,” You tease at the clone sitting across the table from you. Your smirk is met with a scowl that doesn’t reach his sparkling amber eyes. The 501st is on leave on Coruscant, and they're one of your favorite clone battalions. You work as a mechanic at the military base where their barracks are, and once the war started up you got to know a bunch of the troops as they came through to ask for your help on any equipment they damaged on their last deployment. This is how you got to know Fives particularly well; if something could break, Fives would find the way to do it.

After he had annoyed you enough times by breaking the gear you had just fixed for him, he started to repay you by inviting you to hang out in parts of the base that were off limits to most of the civilian workforce, like the break room you were in this night. A few troopers were scattered around; most had early shifts on the base tomorrow so they couldn’t spend their free time at 79s that particular night. This meant they were entertaining themselves more tamely than usual but for many of the troopers this meant drinking ale and gambling on games or podraces they were watching on the holo, or in Fives and your case Pazaak.

Fives begrudgingly slides you the credits on the table and starts to deal out the next round. He was not a man who took defeat easily. Since his shifts for the day were over, he was only armored from the waist down and has his blacks on top. You’ve been drinking some ale during the night and you couldn’t help but notice the way the fabric clung to his body, particularly his broad chest and hard biceps.

Woah watch it there, you work around a million guys who look the same as him. Once you let those thoughts in there’s no going back. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him even without the alcoholic influence. Fives drove you crazy half the time, but he was just so damn hot you let it slide.

“You do have a point,” Fives suddenly spoke up and you’re snapped out of your thoughts. Once you notice he’s looking through his utility belt, you realize he’s answering your previous statement. “You’ve cleaned me out, I don’t have any more to bet tonight. That is…unless you’re not opposed to wagering something a little more interesting?”

You take a sip of your ale, draining the bottle. “And what do you propose?”

Fives looked around the room, making sure none of his brothers were paying too close attention to the two of you. Luckily, they were all focused on their own entertainment. His face broke into a grin as he looked into your eyes and leaned in closer to you.

“If I win this round, you give me a handjob,” he whispered into your ear.

You huff out a laugh to act nonchalant, but the truth is you feel a flutter in your stomach and a flush to your cheek by the suggestion. Everything between you too had just been friendly before, and while Fives had gotten flirty occasionally you never thought he was serious. He was Fives, that’s what he was like with everyone.

“Well, that is an interesting suggestion. What do I get if I win then?” you reply, trying to sound as transactive as possible; like this was some normal deal with a trader.

“If your hand wins, I’ll finish all the reports and paperwork you need to do for any 501st related repairs while we’re on this leave.” Ok, this got you excited but not in the core warming way his previous suggestion did; that would be a big relief on your workload. And hey, his hand has been terrible all night, luck seems to be in your favor.

“All right, you’re on.” You smirk and he flashes that devilish grin at you.

You win the first round easily; Fives was being very conservative with his hand and didn’t seem to want to play too many cards. He either has nothing in his deck, or he’s really holding out for something big.

The second round lasts a few minutes longer, but you overdraw your cards and Fives wins which meant the match was tied before the 3rd and final round. Fives teasingly stretches his arms over his head, making you roll your eyes at him.

The third round goes on the longest; you had used up most of your set deck already so you were being careful to not overdraw again, but you play your last card. You didn’t reach the 20 total needed to win, but being at 19 you felt confident in your choice. Fives drew another card from the deck, that pushes his total to 22. If you finished the round with a number over 20, that meant you lost so you begin to shift back in your seat and put your feet up on the table.

“Sorry, Fives, better luck ne-,” you start but he cuts you off, wagging a finger in your direction. He places his last card on the table: a -2. Making his total 20, and him the winner. You couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief as the clone copied your victorious pose – stretching back with his arms behind his head and his feet coming to rest on the table as those amber eyes locked with yours.

***

“OK Listen, I was being a little shit. I had a terrible hand; I didn’t think I would actually win. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You brought Fives back to your workshop in the base – the best place you could think of for some privacy. It was late so all the other mechanics should have left already. It was small, but there was enough space for a worktable and the small bench that you and Fives are sitting at. His voice was soft; you knew he could be a bit of an ass, but you knew he was being honest and the last thing he would want to do was make you uncomfortable.

“Nope, I don’t back out of a deal.” You smirk at him and his edge seemed to come back once he accepted that you were ok with this. Your hand rests on his armored thigh and slowly makes its way up to his codpiece. “Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit curious about what you’ve got going on under all the armor.”

A devilish grin grows on his face as his own hand meets yours. He fiddles with the straps on his codpiece and pulls It away, revealing an already sizeable bulge in his blacks. He pulls your hand onto him and holds it there. You feel your core flutter as he hardens in your hand.

“Well, I’m more than happy to show off for you, baby,” His voice is lower and has a raspy edge to it. You push his hand aside and slowly undo his pants, releasing his cock. You slowly grasp your hand around the base of him, and you can’t help but lick your lips looking at it. His tan cock is thick and long, and already swollen at your light touch. His breath is low at your touch, he places a hand on your shoulder, wordlessly begging you to move.

You take your hand away for a second to lick it and you firmly hold him again. You slowly began to stroke up and down, feeling his velvety soft skin in your hand. You flick your thumb over his head, smearing a bit of the precum that was already leaking from it. You can’t help but want to taste him. You increase your pace and Fives’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his breath increasing. You look at his face, he smiles back at you, his pupils blown out and filled with lust.

“I had a hunch you would be good with your hands.” He breathed out, trying to hold onto his composure. You wanted to wreck that pretty face. As you continue working his cock up and down in your hand, he sighs out and bends his head backward, hitting the wall. You take this pause in attention to bend your head down and start licking the head of his cock.

“Fuck!” he cursed out, sighing your name. You slowly move off the bench to kneel in front of him. You continue to jerk him and lick a long strip up the underside of his cock. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh well, if you’re not happy with it I can always stop,” you tease and his eyes darken with hunger. He responds by placing a hand on the back of your head and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“I’m more than happy sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about what those pretty lips would look like wrapped around my cock for ages.” He gently guides your head back to him, and you open up wide to take more of him in.

You start slowly, he’s so thick it’s hard to fit him all in. You press your tongue underneath his hard cock as you slowly bob up and down on him, using your hand to help jerk the rest of him. Once you adjust, you push him further into your mouth until you feel him hitting your throat. His hips thrust up, trying to feel more of you and his hand presses your head closer into him. You feel your gag reflex kicking in as he releases you, gasping for air as you come up.

“Was that, ok?” Fives asks, and once you smile and assure him it is, he grasps your hair again. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth; can I do that sweetheart?”

“Yes, use me” you gasp, and he doesn’t waste a second. He slides himself back into your mouth and begins thrusting himself while holding your head in place, hitting the back of your throat with each stroke. You’re so turned on by this, having this strong man use you to chase his pleasure. You reach one of your hands in between your legs, rubbing your clit over your jumpsuit, just trying to appease your needs with any form of friction. Fives notices and groans.

“Is this turning you on? Me choking you with my dick?” He grunts while thrusting into you. You hum in agreement, the vibration giving him more pleasure. His head knocks back against the wall, beads of sweat appearing at his forehead. He’s close. “Fuck, I’m gonna come down that pretty throat of yours. Then, I’m gonna eat that pretty pussy of yours, you like the sound of that?”

You moan and look up at him, pulling your head away from his grasp. He looks wrecked, ready to cum and he’s about to push your head back down when you say, “Let me finish you off.”

His hand is still on your head but not pulling you down anymore. His cock is coated with your saliva, and you jerk him rapidly again then take him back into your hollowed out mouth, You use both of your hands, twisting as you jerk him and suck on his head. He starts gasping your name, warning you he’s about to come. You slide him completely into your mouth, where his tip is partially down your throat as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth and taste his thick, salty cum spurt in your mouth. He holds you down while he thrusts out his orgasm. You swallow as he’s already pulling you up off the ground into his lap and crushes your lips with a kiss.

“You’re wearing too much.” His voice is raspy from his release, but he’s focused on fulfilling his earlier promise to you. His hand finds the zipper at the front of your jumpsuit, and he tugs it down to your waist, his lips never leaving yours. He roughly pulls down the shoulders, leaving you in just your bra from the waist up. He moves his kisses down to your neck, and he sucks a love bite right where the collar line of your suit would have been.

You feel like putty in his strong hands, moaning at even his softest touches. He grabs one of your breasts over your bra, his thumb rubbing where your nipples are peaking through. He uses his free hand to reach around you and effortlessly undoes the clasp on your bra. He leans back to stare at your exposed chest, eyes glancing over every inch of you and back up to meet you own. You feel yourself blush, but you’re hungry for more. You lean back in to kiss him more, and he slides his tongue into your mouth. He wraps your legs around his waist and slowly rises. He carries you over to your worktable, where he uses his arms to clear off the paperwork and tools that had been sitting there.

“Sorry if any of that was important,” He mumbles into your mouth. He places you at the edge of the table and makes quick work of removing the rest of your jumpsuit, leaving you in just your panties before him. He gently pushes you backward onto the table, kissing along your neck and sucking at each nipple before he moves his way down your body.

Your breath hitches as he reaches your hips, leaving another love bite as he gets there. His hands spread your legs open for him, propped against the edge of the table. His kisses trail over your panties and you can feel his breath on your clothed entrance. He lets out a dark chuckle.

“So wet, and I’ve barely even touched you. Someone’s needy.” He places a kiss right over your clit and you feel like you’re ready to lose any control you had over your urges. His fingers reach around the waistband of your panties as he slides them down your legs. He spreads your legs again, lifting one to rest on his should as he caresses and kiss it; his goatee offering a ticklish yet pleasurable sensation. He takes his time teasing you, kissing and licking around your joints and hip bones, his calloused hands squeezing your thighs. You begin to whimper under his touch, trying to rotate your hips so he’ll pay attention to the one area he’s ignored.

“Need something, mesh’la?” He grins up at you.

“Dammit Fives, touch me!”

“I already am, you need to be more specific than that. And maybe try asking nicer?” That little shit.

“Please, Fives. Your mouth. I need it. On me. Please.” You prop yourself on your elbows to look at him. God, you want to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but you need him too much to fight him right now.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” And he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your slit and you can’t hold your moan in. He uses his fingers to open up your folds as his tongue finds your clit. He flicks it expertly, keeping his eyes one you as you began to fall apart under his mouth. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks gently at first, reading your reactions. He switches up between sucking and licking, swirling his tongue, and lightly grazing his teeth around your sensitive bud, causing you to cry out in pleasure. He’s too good at this, damn him for being so good at this. You have too much pent-up attraction in your system, too much of a need for him, you’re going to come soon.

You can’t prop yourself up anymore, and you fall back onto the table. Your hands search for anything to grab onto, to ground yourself in the moment. His tongue continues its onslaught against your clit, Fives is using one of his hands to press your hip down, preventing you from moving too much. Just when you think you can’t be more overwhelmed, you feel one of his thick fingers pressing into your entrance. You moan and clench around him, but he can tell you want more so he slips a second finger in. He slows his tongue to match the speed of his fingers dragging in and out of you, only to increase his pace as your body welcomes him in.

“So tight around my fingers, baby. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” Your moans start to pitch higher and higher, your release imminent. He can tell you’re almost there, his fingers press even deeper into you and curve slightly, finding that spongy spot inside of you. You cry out louder.

“Yes, please Fives! Right there!”

He doesn’t relent his pace with his fingers as his mouth latches to suck around your clit. You can’t string two thoughts together; all you can focus on is the electricity pulsing through your body. All you can hear are your moans and the filthy noise from his fingers and mouth pleasuring your pussy. Your legs are quaking around his head, your hips fighting to leave the table but being held into place by your source of pleasure. You’re able to glance down at Fives and the lustful but focused look in his golden eyes is enough to push you over the edge. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm hits you like a speeder. His fingers work you through it as your pussy flutters around him, and his tongue laps up your release. Once your breathing settles, he pulls his fingers from you and makes eye contact as he sucks them clean.

“You’re even sweeter than I imagined.” You’re still sprawled on the table as he stands up and removes the top of his blacks. You’re in recovery from your release, but you feel yourself clench as you look over his sculpted, tan body. You almost moan when you notice his cock, still free from your earlier work is now hard again as he removes what was left of his armor. He notices the hungry look on your face. “Bet I can get you to come again, this time on my cock.”

Your energy perks up and you’re able to lift yourself up again, and you teasingly wave your hips at him, showing off your entrance, still glistening from your orgasm. One of his hands grabs your hip to steady you, while the other strokes his cock and lines it up against your entrance. He slides it up and down your slit, whacking it against your sensitive clit. You shake in his grip and his eyes gleam as he slowly presses into you.

You’re still wet from your release and his fingers had worked you up, but you still have a hard time accepting his thickness. You feel him splitting you open, but the slight edge of pain is overpowered by the pleasure. Fives bottoms out in you and pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to him. You had never been so full and the sensation is almost too much. Your arms lift and grasp onto his biceps, needing to hold onto him for proof this wasn’t some dream.

One of his hands reaches behind you to the small of your back to keep you propped up. His other is gripping your hip, grounding himself as he’s ready to take what he wants. But he has to briefly control himself. He bends down, kissing you on your forehead.

“You feel so good, I won’t be able to last long. Are you ready?” He asks as his kisses trail down to your mouth. You deepen the kiss, gathering his bottom lip in your mouth and lightly bite on it making him groan.

“Fuck me, Fives. I’m off tomorrow, so I don’t need to walk.” You whisper and that’s all he needs.

He pulls himself out and then thrusts all the way back in, hitting your deepest spot. You barely reacted when he’s already moving again, unrelenting in his pace as he aims for that pleasure spot with every single thrust. He holds you against him, smacking your hips into his. Your nails digging deeper into his arm, and you’re turned on at the thought of him secretly walking around tomorrow with your marks on him. His pace is harder than it is quick, and you feel him drag in your pussy with every movement, almost as if you can feel every vein and ridge on his cock. Your pussy is holding him in a vice like grip, and as your legs wrap around his waist he groans as he feels you move around him.

Your head starts to roll back, and his hand that was on your back moves to the back of your neck to hold you in place, making you keep eye contact locked with him. He’s in complete control of your body, his strong arms able to hold you and fuck you like a rag doll. The tension starts to build in your body again, building to another peak.

Fives pulls out and you whine from the loss of him, but then he flips you onto your stomach, your ass up and legs dangling off the table. He uses his legs to spread yours further apart as he bends over, licking a line up your spine. He bites at the back of your neck, grabs a fistful of your hair to angle your face with his as he kisses you. He slams his cock back into you and you cry out; you won’t have a voice tomorrow.

“I’m close, can I come inside this pretty pussy?” he pants into your ear as he slowly drags his cock in and out of you. You were on birth control, so you knew you would be fine.

“Yes, please, fill me up Fives!” you gasp, grinding your ass back into him to meet his movements. He kisses you again then slides his hand back to your hips and begins a brutal pace.

If you thought you hadn’t been filled before, this angle makes you feel him in places you didn’t think were possible. His body pushing into you more and more with each thrust, you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips from his hands and marks on your legs from the edge of the desk. You start to lift yourself, but he uses on hand on your back to press you back down, your cheek turned to the side pressed against the surface so you’re able to see him ravish you from the corner of your eye.

He’s hitting your deepest spot with every thrust, quickly propelling you closer and closer to your second orgasm. Your body is wrecked as he fucks into you. Your vision is blurry, you can’t focus on anything, and your head is filled with your combined moans and the sinfully delightful slap of his hips against your ass and his dick in your pussy. You won’t be able to focus on any of your next projects when you’re on your next shift, all you’ll be able to think of is how this Arc Trooper bent you over your desk and fucked you into another galaxy. Your whole body begins to tense, and you feel a euphoric sensation take over your body. You were already on your way to the strongest orgasm you ever had, when his hand reached around for your clit and his calloused finger pads start rubbing it. You’re pushed past the point of no return.

You scream out but you can’t hear it, you see white and the only thing grounding you to the planet is the sensation of him fucking you through your climax. You call out his name countless times as he fucks you through it, your pussy squeezing him to the point where he can’t hold on any longer and, with a cry of your name, he fills you with hot streams of cum.

He collapses onto you, both of you breathing together and still joined. Slowly he gets up and pulls himself out of you. You nearly roll off the table, but he catches you and picks you up just to bring you down to the floor with him. He holds you in his arms there, allowing you to catch your breath. His golden eyes don’t leave your face as he brushes tears you don’t even realize you had shed off your cheeks. He smiles at you and his eyes twinkle as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“I’m glad I lost that bet,” you joke, making him laugh and bend down for another kiss.

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